Field Trip City

WHAT I'M IN F...

- wait a second, first things first. I slept through my first class, The Touch of Evil Project. Waking up was one of those uh-oh, why the fuck didn't my alarms (2) go off, why am I waking up under my own power kind of waking ups. Great start to a new course.

But I didn't let the morning go to waste. I emailed the prof immediately, apologizing for my absence and inquiring as to where and when I could pick up my syllabus. While waiting for a response I went to Future Shop online and bought a new alarm clock and a digital camera with memory cards. Then I started investigating grants for the next Ottawa Art Bazaar. I came across some information on a package I'm going to put together, so I sent out requests to some folks for their help. The first application for the Ontario Arts Council is due October 1st, so I'm going to look into it more extensively this week, as well as the leads I have on a couple of other sources.

Finally, Professor Corinn Columpar emailed me back, setting up a meeting for tomorrow so that she could assign me a presentation slot. She also told me where I could access the syllabus online. Therefore -

WHAT I'M IN FOR (PART TWO)

The Touch of Evil Project is not devoted entirely to the Orson Welles film; in fact, I'll be looking at a bunch of films including The Magnificent Ambersons, The Third Man, Kiss Me Deadly, Morocco, Greed, Klute, and Lone Star. The theme of the course, I think, involves interruptions and overhauls of the creative process resulting in the perversion of a director's vision. Sounds very cool. The actual "Touch of Evil Project" is a culmination of each student's contribution of one particular aspect of the film, echoed in the other material we'll be examining. I'll be graded on my contribution, which will take the form of a presentation, as well as participation, a class facilitation, and a final project (research paper or something mindblowing) with proposal and presentation. Lots of presenting. But at least the subject matter is beyond engaging.

WHAT I'M IN FOR (PART THREE)

George Elliott Clarke seems like a genuinely warm, enjoyable man, who is extremely passionate about African-Canadian Lit (although he dislikes the term "African-Canadian", "black" and any other generalization of race, claiming these definitions are only in place for political reasons). His intensity grew as he went over what we'll be studying piece by piece, and peaked in his telling of an experience he had on a plane (back from Berlin, nonetheless) just this past Sunday when a man accused him of stealing food. I volunteered to present on Oni the Haitian Sensation, and sent him an email after the fact to stress my interest. I hope I'm able to, because I'd love to turn it into an opportunity to take a closer look at Ottawa's spoken word scene. I get a kick out of making my classes into examinations of my direct interests. In the meantime, I'll be looking at Lorena Gale's "Angelique", Austin Clarke's "Choosing his Coffin", Afua Cooper's "Hanging of Angelique", Dionne Brand's "Land to Light On", Mary Shadd's "A Plea for Emigration", Djanet Sears' "Harlem Duet", Nega Mezlekia's "Notes from the Hyena's Belly", and material by the man himself as well as some films.

The University of Toronto seems like a very competitive place. I like to take my time when it comes to courses, meeting professors, sharing my ideas. I like to get the feel of the room. And the feeling I get from the rooms I've been in so far is that continuous attempts are being made to cement one's place in the front of the line. I'll pass it off to a general excitement, for now. But I've personally never been one to take the first bite of a kill.

I found out how much I'll be getting scholarship-wise. I almost fainted. The feeling came over me that I'd done something terribly wrong. I'm starting to feel funny about applying for OSAP. But the revelation is putting interesting thoughts in my head. Like where I may be spending New Year's Eve.

I don't have another class until Friday, but tomorrow is a day full of appointments. And I really shouldn't sleep through them.

My baby's up there somewhere, in the sky on the other side of the globe. At 11:11 I made my wish for her...

--

A gull drops to kiss
    its dark, watery double,
       soars again alone.

- George Elliott Clarke, "Solitude" (from "Whylah Falls")