Field Trip City

I'm old. Well, older.

The less said about adventures in film semiotics, the better. I finished Notes from the Hyena's Belly, and interestingly enough, it was largely criticized in class. Professor Clarke was trying to think of the name of a Mexican magic realist prose writer whom Mezlekia resembled (it was Laura Esquivel), and a few folks shouted out names. I hazarded a guess with Octavio Paz, who was really the first magic realist writer I ever encountered, and got kind of a weird reaction - laughs, and the assertion that Paz was a poet. I felt kind of silly, until just now, after doing a little research. Paz was definitely Mexican, definitely a magic realist, and definitely a short story writer (I've read "My Life with the Wave") in addition to being a poet. My guess was completely acceptable. And I was feeling disappointed in myself for making it.

Yannick Marshall was a special guest in class today, and he read from the book he just co-authored with Yemi Aganga entitled "Old Friend, We Made This for You." His stuff really blew me away. One of his favorite images seems to be the celestial body, and I asked him why that struck him in particular. He explained that the Toronto skies are grey and imprisoning with pollution in comparison to the night skies of Africa and what he calls in one of his poems "the Diaspora of stars." That's such an amazing way of looking at the night sky, and admitting the power we put in the hands of whatever lingers above our heads. I picked up a copy of his book, which he autographed for me. Very cool.

I walked home from Keele station, made some dinner and watched the Ghostbusters commentary track and the deleted footage on the special edition of Mallrats. Tomorrow I'm meeting with my Bibliography group and going to dinner with some chums for the ol' b-day celebration.