manuscriptgal

Dangerous Minds

Sun, 26 Apr 2009 18:35:15 GMT

Dangerous Minds

The quiet crank,
the humpty-dumpty professor
who teeters, slippered, before the blackboard
with a smile liked creaking leather.
The old Lothario,
whose hands have touched so many pages,
the spines of books
are no strangers to him.

He knows the cadence of Shakespeare,
and his heart beats in iambs.

"What light through yonder window breaks?"

His kind are dying.
And the new ones
have footnotes lined up like razer blades,
contact lenses
and polished fingernails.

They know that Shakespeare
was just a dead white man,
and there was never any author to begin with.
There is no blood on their fingers.
They cannot see the sunlight on the bed,
and Juliet, sleepy eyed, marveling
at the newness of her body
after his touch.
They cannot hear the lark
(or the nightingale)
or feel the iambic drumbeat in her vein.

It is easier to mock that love
than share it.
These dangerous minds.

There are Many Road in Venice

Sun, 22 Feb 2009 08:20:06 GMT

This is what the other group's hotel staff told them when they asked about directions. It is incredibly true. There are MANY roads in Venice. Most of them are tiny, twisting, somewhat sketchy, but amazing! I haven't had much of a chance to update. Laura's just applying the last of her make-up and putting on her mask. We have to run shortly. But this incredible! Just incredible...I'm so tired. Tired. Must walk the roads.

fatelfandsanta

Wed, 18 Feb 2009 09:11:53 GMT

Wow, my brain is still fuzzy. I don't think I have the long term mental stamina of your average coffee-swilling grad student. I can't pull an all-nighter. I really don't work well after 10:00 pm in fact unless I'm drinking pots of green tea. I try to overcome this by a general prepared-ness. I get my work done ahead of time so I can keep to a reasonable schedule and not shove too much in at once. And this is generally effective enough to keep me IN grad school. But yesterday turned my brain to sludge. You know when you're at the gym, and you know you just need to do another two to complete your reps, but your muscles are killing you, so you kinda put your back into it, and jerk around to get through? That was my brain for the last four MSS (I looked at 17 yesterday). Then I read another three articles, came back and started filling in the collation details from my printed description. I got through about half before I reached the end. Plus, I'm trying to slowly make notes on this book I'm reviewing, so I did a chapter of that. But now my brain still hurts, despite a big English breakfast.

But, enough whining! Today, I will battle mental fatigue with a well-placed pint, and move on to some of the fun stuff. I actually took the time to wander around the Hereford Cathedral yesterday (For some reason, a number of the Herefordians have made someone suspiciously disparaging remarks against...Worcesterians?). I don't know why that's in parantheses. It's really not related to anything. But they have a beautiful, HUGE mappa mundi, and I got to see the chained library. I bought some posters of the map for when I one day have an office. It'll be great!

Oh yes, and fateldandsanta. That is the password for Wifi at my B&B. There is a story there, but I will not tell it you.

Mindnumbing Manuscripts

Tue, 17 Feb 2009 19:13:00 GMT

For those of you who remember, last summer looking at manuscripts made me gouge holes in my hands in an stigmata-like attempt to open bottles of beer. Now I remember why. It hurts. HURTS! I read three articles and looked at twenty manuscripts. My brain no longer functions. So that was my day. And then I ate a salad. And missed my train so by the time I got home every beer-selling store was closed. GARRGGGHHHHHH!

Hot Librarian Alert

Mon, 16 Feb 2009 18:26:50 GMT

Today, I spent my first day in a cathedral doing research. My night did not go as well as planned since apparently drinking coffee to stay awake, then napping, then napping some more doesn't actual assist with getting a good night's sleep. Nor does the cold. Seriously, what is wrong with this country? Turn on the heat! I think my body has all the insulation of a kleenex, though, so it's probably not their fault.

This morning was a bit of a mess. I was trying to hard to get to the train station on time that I ran clear past it, and had to backtrack a kilometer. By the time I got to Hereford, however, I was still making respectable time. Everyone in Hereford was exceptionally friendly. It was my taxi driver's birthday, AND she had just had her first grandson born. She was very delighted and told me all about it. Then at the coffee shop, after ordering, I was asked where in America I was from by a random patron. I told them I was from Canada and staying at Worcester. He told me not to trust the Worcester(ians?). They're like the poor relations of Herefordians. And Hereford has a bigger cathedral. And an older one. So there!

Speaking of friendly Herefordians, the cathedral had a remarkably hot librarian! He was super friendly, probably a bit older than me with a combination of nerdiness and over-enthusiasm that I loved. Plus, man could he run up those cathedral stairs. Phew! I'm getting in better shape, but I was still wheezing after trying to keep up with him. Even his tiny English head did not bother me. And better still, he's going to Kalamazoo for the first time!

So I spent the day hanging out around the cathedral. I was really worried everyone was going to be like the people at PIMS. But they were happy to see me, and curious about my project, and generally wonderfully friendly. Even though I like the Bodleian and the BL, this was way friendlier. They delivered me all the MSS, and I just hung out and looked at them. And they all had these massive chains on them! Tomorrow I want to spend some time actually looking around the cathedral some. And I bought chocolates to give them for being so nice to me.

Ghost Town

Sun, 15 Feb 2009 23:25:59 GMT

I arrived in Worcester today. Tonight, to be more precise. I'll start with that, and then back track for you. Or maybe I won't. Be prepared for some jumping.

To understand how I felt when I first arrived here, you need to know how much I did not like the hostel I stayed at. The people were noisy. The beds were uncomfortable. The room was cold. If you know me, you know I hate the cold. But this was the cold where I grabbed every item of clothing I had and either wore it or used it as extra blankets. I even borrowed clothing from Laura for this purpose (she got a better? room). I was constantly worried I was going to be robbed (which was probably not so much of a worry...thanks mom for the built-in paranoia!). Laura and I had nowhere to hang out. To sit quietly, maybe watch Dollhouse. Add to this what should have been a three hour direct train trip from King's Cross which turned into a...longer trip. The only train left from Paddington. Half the Tube was shut down for maintenance. My first train was delayed. My connecting train was cancelled. It wasn't horrible, but I'm still not recovered from jetlag.

So I get into Worcester. I've been studying Worcester for sometime as part of my major fields and because David Townsend always talked about it. The place felt...good. In the way Pisa felt bad. It was completely deserted. Completely. And about a ten minute walk to my B&B. But I trundled off with my much smaller suitcase in tow. Merrily, almost, as it were. But it's a really nice place. Quiet. Not like London, but with its own charm. I can see why William Langland preferred it over London. The cathedral kinda sneaks up on you, which is impressive when you're looking for it and it is pretty much huge. And lit up with eerie yellow light. And creepy looking trees. But I walk alongside it, following my map, and wouldn't you know that my B&B is smack dab right next to it. I am currently looking at my window and it is right there. My next day neighbour. But it is so fricken cool!!!!!!! Mom, you would love it. The B&B is all-around lovely as well. My room is spacious, and warm, and the beds have sheets. And there's a towel. And I get to lie down and type this message. I'm really looking forward to doing it abit of wandering...though tomorrow I've gotta head up to Hereford to check out their cathedral first. But there's nice hills. And tons of little museums. And quaint (they juggle geese kinda quaint) stores selling teapots and English-y things. I love it!

So to rewind back to my last entry. I was sitting in despair and moderate comfort in the British Library. I never mentioned it, b ut they had a Darwin exhibit on so the main entrance was filled with birdsong. Wow, it was really idyllic. Laura and I had tickets to see Sunset Boulevard, our favourite musical. First of all, we went to a wonderful Chinese restaurant where I got the Crispy duck and Laura got Singapore noodles.

Stop. The lights just went out at the cathedral. Is this normal? Now it's just waiting there in the darkness....

Sunset Boulevard was amazing! The performance was riveting. We're very used to the CD sountrack, which misses out bits of the storyline, so it wa refreshing to fill in the gaps. Norma was much more childlike and clingy, not like Glenn Close's somewhat stronger, more cracked character. This was someone who never grew up past sixteen. Joe was...smarmier. He was an ass. You could tell all the way through that he thought he could just play her and walk away. The CD Joe was ironic and smooth. You could tell he knew it was all going belly-up but he wanted to keep it going for as long as possible. This one, well, I think he always thought he had a way out, up until the catastrophe hit. You could see it ramping up, but Joe kept thinking he still had control, had the ability to walk away. He just never got his situation. It was an interesting take.

Afterward, we spent some time not wanting to go to the hostel, but eventually we caved anyway. I did not sleep. This was problematic for our day of wandering around London (the bL is closed on Sunday). So we headed to the British Library, wandered around there, hit a pub and then saw Slumdog Millionaire. Great film. It used the opportunity to get a quick nap. So then cue back up to the Tube, and the train, and the walking with the suitcase, and here I am sitting in bed typing out a message on stolen WiFi. Not Bad. A good trip so far.

Lost in Limbo

Sat, 14 Feb 2009 16:18:51 GMT

Today has both been a lot of fun and frustrating. First things first. It was great to see Laura! She and I are hanging out at the library. I missed having someone to have coffee breaks with and discuss manuscript-y things. We stayed at a hostel yesterday. Very sketchy. I kept worrying that I was going to be robbed. Maybe they've robbed us while we've been out? I hope not. In the morning, whenenver anyone was up getting changed, I kept feeling like they were right next to my bed. Which they were. Because there were sixteen of us. and they put Laura in a different room! Very sad.

So today, elation and upset and recovery. Elation because I think I might have found another scribe working on multiple SEL stuff...but it is tres weird. The hand looks familiar, but originally it start in an Anglicana not a Gothic. But for about five pages in the middle, it blends into a Gothic hand! And then back to Anglicana...don't know what's up with that. Seriously. Books are so mysterious. Why won't you just tell me stuff?!?!? And then upset. I looked more at Egerton 1993, totally convinced myself out of the paraph theory. And then half convinced myself back, but in such a way that I'm not sure I could plausibly convince other people? I guess we'll see what else I find on the trip. Then recovery, because I had a cappuccino with Laura, bought myself a ruler and magnifying glass (and a present for Peter) and decided it didn't matter anyway, because I'm learning stuff and there's still an argument to be made. Just maybe not the original one. There might be a desperate e-mail to Alex tonight. We'll see. But I did manage to see something like 12 MSS today. that's a good sign. And it was all fun!

Tonight we're off to see Sunset Boulevard - my all time favourite musical. And then tomorrow we actually get to spend the day sightseeing since the library is closed...then off to Worcester for even more paraph searching!

Blarghhh...BRAINNNNSSSSSSSSS!

Fri, 13 Feb 2009 12:50:32 GMT

My flight was successful and once again I find myself in the British Library, much deserted but much more familiar. The plane trip went well. I chugged a mini bottle of wine (they're free apparently?) and then slept merrily for the majority of the trip. Not that you'd know
it now. Being the eager grad student that I am, I got off the plane, onto the tube, and straight to the library. I've got my suitcase stored in the locker room (potentially safer than at the hostel anyway). I'm exhausted. To beat the jetlag, my plan is to heavily caffeinate myself and just keep working through until Laura shows up. I'll try to keep going after dinner, but truthfully I'm not sure that'll be possible. We'll see what the coffee is like here.

There was a bizarre bronze dwarf dressed in Renaissance clothing staring at me from outdoors. That doesn't help. With anything.

The manuscript research is going well so far. I've looked through three manuscripts, my argument seemingly hanging on everyone. I've decided to simply relax, collect information, and then form a better judgment at the end of it. Also, there's this one patron who looks
like Alex. I keep seeing her out of the corner of my eye. Haunted by a metal dwarf and my adviser. Is this a promising start to the trip or what?

Memories of Poetry Lost

Fri, 07 Nov 2008 01:56:31 GMT

Higgledy, Piggledy
William of Malmesbury
Liked to write history
When he was bored---

Stalked the nobility
Each one sequentially,
Renaming Englishmen
With Latin words.

The Ghost of Academics Past

Sat, 04 Oct 2008 21:39:38 GMT

I've reached the end of the trip now, and I'm sitting in an over-heated airport and contemplating the last couple of days. Today has been a bit...frustrating, but I'm not really going to talk about any of that. The conference was great. It was lovely to see Sarah again and to have a book history buddy. We could just rant about manuscripts over a beer (mine, not hers, since she's 7 months pregnant). I had a bunch of good conversations with people that made me remember why this is fun. The panels themselves were okay. I didn't recognize many of the names. Probably my northern bias. No major gossip to report.

I do have one bizarre story to yell. After presenting, an old man walked up to me and started talking to me about a dissertation he had written on scribal organization of the "Canterbury Tales". When I said that was fascinating and I should look at it, he produced it from his bag and handed it to me. Yes. He was carrying a 35 year old, leather bound copy of his disseration. And he gave it to me to borrow. I read through it that night (it was only 109 pages) but I didn't see him the next day to give it back. So there I am, walking around with this bizarre dissertation, terrified I'm going to end up heading back to Canada with it. He was like the ghost of academics past. So I told everyone, and it became one of those bizarre conference stories that begins to circulate. People came to see the dissertation. People would interrupt me when passing by to say, "What? Someone gave you their dissertation?" Fortunately (or unfortunately from a narrative stand point) I did manage to find him just before I left the conference on the third day. But now it makes me think that I should carry around copies of my dissertation (should I write one) to hand out to poor, unsuspecting academics. It was very odd.

One other talk of note was that of a queer theoriest talking about touch. This struck close to home because I used to do that kind of work. But his was one of those airy-fairy (no pun intended) beautiful talks that people give and historians hate. No contextualizing. No historical detail. Just pure interpretation. And it was lovely. And a tiny part of me rebelled because it made me remember that once upon a time I wanted to say beautiful things. And now I have footnotes. And citations. And they are ugly. On top of that, he talked about the vision that freezes, that codifies and locks into place. The gaze of the Medusa that says, "You can't do that! You need footnotes." And I realized that I was the gorgon. So I hated myself. And then I wrote some footnotes and felt better.

Welcome to St. Louis

Fri, 03 Oct 2008 00:45:30 GMT

So I've now been in St. Louis for a day and a half. I meant to post yesterday, but well, my Internet access wasn't working. The flight was good. There were some Canadians bitching behind me to Americans about how boring our election is in comparison to theirs. "Damn you!" say I. Seriously, there's still something at stake in this country....so says she who has only recently discovered an interest in politics.

Sarah Noonan picked me up at the airport and drove me to her husband's restaurant. Which was great! It was just like being in France again...it was called the "Shaved Duck" and was something of a gastro pub. There was duck every where, and since he was the exec chef we got all this delicious food for ridiculously cheap. Then in the morning we want to his *other* restaurant for lunch, and again the food was brilliant.

I gave my paper this afternoon. It went over surprisingly well, and THERE WERE PEOPLE IN THE AUDIENCE! Lots of them! So many they had to sit in the front seat! People actually showed up to a panel I was on! I credit it entirely to my obscure title "Chaucer's Frankenstein Text". Who the Hell knew what that was about? It's genius. I will make up random stuff in the future as well, and then I will rule the world of academia.

I'm kinda drunk now, and about to sit down to watch the debate with some room service, so well, that's all you get from me.

Airport Blues

Wed, 01 Oct 2008 18:38:46 GMT

The title is misleading - largely because I couldn't think of a real title. I'm sitting in the Pearson airport, having paid my $5.00 for the advertized WiFi. I showed up 5 hours early to the airport, so I feel justified in spending a little cash to burn some time.

For those of you who remember, I mentioned that my first plane trip was a horrible experience, involving floods in Buffalo, not being let onto the flight, losing my luggage, and then a five hour trip to Toronto that involved take two different cars and a train. That was my first trip to SEMA. It was my first real conference, my first real trip into the wilderness of academia. I had met a guy named Jeff Turco who said, "Hey! You should go to SEMA with me!" It was a little ambiguous as to whether we were dating. I guess we were going on dates, but nothing more serious than that. So off I went, knowing only this one person, to a conference where there was not a single person from Toronto. The conference itself went well. My paper was, well, what you would expect from a bright but inexperienced 4th year undergrad (when I wrote it). It didn't turn any heads, but there was hardly anyone in the audience who would have had a turnable head. By a mistake of bad timing, myself and one of the other people on the panel, another grad student by the name of Misty, got stuck in the city proper and showed up ten minutes late to our own panel. I guess the moderator must have been freaking. It was a lousy way to get started, but there you have it. I didn't abandon academia.

So this is SEMA Take TWO! I'm excited because I actually have legitimate friends this time - Sarah Noonan, a Washington U grad student and fellow Alex tormentee. I also vaguely know a couple of the people from the department - David Lawton, Carter Revard (one of the most well spoken but long winded people I've ever met). I shared a taxi with the latter to the train station while try to get the heck out of Swansea. I wonder if he could sense the desperation?

Anyway, I'm really just killing time and I don't have anything else interesting left to say, so bon voyage! I'll see you when I get back.

It's a Brand New Day

Tue, 30 Sep 2008 01:40:47 GMT

And.....we're back. Yeah, I know I talked about trying to get this thing started, but it seems like my real life is busier than my overseas life. But here I am. That presentation I was all worried about, well, it went quite well. Alex told me I have a natural grace and charm in my teaching. Woo! I guess it beats panic and desperation! I think she was just testing me...

So one of the reasons I haven't been writing, apart from sheer business, is that I reached a kind of academic funk. I think all of us academics have these points. In one of my earliest posts, I offered the description from "Princess Bride" about the back and forth between exuberance and despair that comes with creation. I was at the downward swing. That's okay though because it genuinely is part of the process. Grad school is a Hellish process which requires a constant process of intellectual struggle as you try to work something out, say something new, and translate your damn Latin. So the upside is that I think I may have done all three of those (Except the Latin, perhaps, which is slipping this week...). But I wrote what I think is a quite cool conference paper for my trip to St. Louis. I leave on Wednesday.

My favourite chat line of today (in reference to our last Latin assignment which I'm blowing off to go to St. Louis):
Is it big?
She asks timidly
Like a virgin at a porn convention.

Wow....that's almost like a haiku. On that note, I leave you in peace to deal with your own struggles! More later!

Anglicana through Interpretive Dance?

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 14:23:08 GMT

Here I sit, once more, munching oatmeal and contemplating the world. As someone who used to do an awful lot of writing (and still does, just on other topics), I find that the primary way I make sense of the world is through narrative. So I've opened up my Livejournal to decide if I want to keep doing it. I liked the completeness of ending it once the trip is done, but that sends the subtle message that my life is only interesting if I'm in England. And that's a little depressing. So how about we make a deal? I'll only update this when I actually have something to say. This will NOT be a forum for me to vent my frustration on people who aren't reading it (or who are), or to write long break up messages that I secretly want my ex to read. I'll try to make it worth your while.

So lots has changed and lots hasn't since my last post. Laura is now in Scotland, where she has ironically turned into me - drinking, hanging out with the rowdy crowd, singing O Canada at the top of her lungs with a cute Australian boy - and I have turned into her, doing my homework and mostly staying at home. I guess that's the beginning of the semester for you. Will and Jill are off with Alanna (their adorable child) in Calgary.

Classes have started for me, which always mean a mixture of intellectual bliss and panic. Leaning toward the panic. My stress level rocketed yesterday, and that tends to give me serious backpain. I blame Latin. And my penchant for overscheduling. It turns out that conference Sarah invited me to (SEMA) is actually about two weeks away and I haven't done anything to prepare. Like book a flight or a hotel room. So I madly set about doing all of that. Then, I foolishly signed up to do a presentation the day I was leaving. It turns out that out of the twelve people taking Anglo-Norman Hagiography, only three are doing it for credit. Kinda puts the pressure on to volunteer when stuff needs to be done. And on top of that, I get to do the first real teaching I've had a shot at in my Ph. D. I'm teaching the class for 30 minutes about English palaeography. Not much, I know, but it still has got me all ramped up and amped up. I actually dreamed about letter forms yesterday. I was trying to explain Anglicana Formata. The craziness has been compounded by random messages from Alex saying things like, "We don't have AV equipment so prepare to present from your handout. We DO have AV but I can't print the handout. We have AV and the handout, but some of your examples are wrong." Which I'm not convinced they were. One was scanned from a M. B. Parkes book specifically AS an example for the script I was talking about. But there you have it. Like some sort of strange reality TV show where they're trying to keep the ratings up. But I think I'm ready. As Peter W. suggested, I can always do it through interpretive dance. I should've kept up the yoga if I wanted to do those curly Anglicana 'w's.

Since I have all this work to do, I should probably hit my backs again and try to be productive. But I'll let you know how it goes! It'll either be brilliantly successful or crash and burn. Or I'll put people to sleep. And ramble. Who knows? Stay tuned.

More News from Oxford

Mon, 04 Aug 2008 01:14:42 GMT

Another successful day at the Bodleian. Still the most beautiful library on earth. I woke up today feel absolutely horrible. Despite having slept for a good twelve hours, I still didn't want to get up in the morning to face the day. But I eventually dragged myself up and to the library, where I managed to snag the seat I grabbed yesterday - and the best in the place, I might add - which had a window overlooking a little park. I found a great manuscript. It was another tall and skinny one, but this one finished every item of text with "Amen quod Kate" followed by a drawing of a fish, or a flower, or a fish with a flower in its mouth. Seriously. And it wasn't always the same fish. There were slight variations, but there were fish showing up on every couple of pages. The book itself was quite neat, since it was filled with a number of romances and moral texts including "Sir Orfew", a Englishized version of the myth of Orpheus, turned into an Arthurian-styled romance. One of the coolest Middle English texts in existence.

I broke up a long day at the library - 9:00 am to 7:00 pm- with a couple of healthy breaks. I joined Katrina for lunch. I had a baguette with goat cheese, figs, chutney, tomato and cucumber. It was surprisingly delicious! She showed me around Oriole College where she lives. Massey has got nothing on these colleges, boys and girls. Nothing. They are wasted on the undergraduates. Afterwards, we went for a walk down to the river. Their river was nice enough, but it wasn't as central and as leisurely as that of Cambridge. After another bout of manuscript examination, I met Katrina and Sarah for coffee. We went to a coffee shop based out of the nearby church. We ended up drinking cafe lattes in a cemetary, which wasn't nearly as creepy as it sounds. I joined Sarah again for dinner, which stretched on longer than I think either of us anticipated. But in a good way. It's nice to have someone to talk to about my work. We basically just talked about cool stuff we had found in books, and what the various implications might be for the field. Despite living in Massey and being part of the Centre, I still haven't had many academic discussions that have actually advanced my research. This whole research followed by food is pretty cool. I feel like I'm actually participating in discussions that may influence the field in a couple of years.

Now that I'm thoroughly caffeinated, I'm debating whether to call it a night and try to get some sleep, or to continue wandering. I decided to stop in at the cemetary outside my building. I'd never really walked around a cemetary, and it was kinda cool. A little eerie too, since it was getting on 9:00 pm and the light was starting to fade. The headstones were all from the 1800s. There were a couple of mausoleums. It makes me want to see the necropolis in Toronto when I get back. It was nice to get the exploration bug again. I thought the cold had beaten it out of me. Appropriate amounts of coffee and tea will fix pretty much anything, apparently. Why did no one tell me about this before?

Home, James, And Don't Spare the Horses...

Mon, 04 Aug 2008 01:12:44 GMT

So here I sit once again, staring at a Departure board, stuffed with egg and mayonnaise sandwich (for which I paid using only 5 cent pieces), and thinking ahead to what comes next. This may well be my last posting. I wanted it to be well-crafted, poetic and perhaps a little inspirational. Like a really good movie voice-over. Of course, I was up at 6:00 am in order to catch several trains to get here, so vaguely coherent may be the best that I can offer.

The trip has been mind-blowingly amazing. I can navigate the the British rail and tube system. I've discovered potentially publishable work. I networked with everyone on the bloody planet. I almost learned how to steer a punt. I saw Roman ruins, Gothic architecture, and a bunch of red phone boothes. The only thing I didn't master by the end of the trip was how to open a bottle with a key without leaving scars.

The truth is that they would have all been just places to visit if it hadn't been for the people I've met along the way. That's really cheesy, but I thought that travelling was often a lonely, isolated kinda thing. This was really different. The benefit of being a grad student is that people (except other grad students) take pity on you, and buy you food and alcohol. But apart from those kinds of things, the people were truly awesome. I find it weird that I could miss friends already that I've only known for a couple of days. But they were often intense days--full of drinking and manuscripts and over-caffeination. I find myself in the role of a Southern belle, genteely whispering into the ears of those I meet, "Ah always depend on the kindness of strangers." The strangers have been kinder, wittier, more inebriated than I ever would have expected.

My clock seems to have already set itself back the requisite five hours, so it's one step ahead of me. I haven't really had a problem with mentally wrapping my head around the time difference, but now I find it quite odd. I got used to people having lunch while I had dinner, or Laura preparing dinner when I had just got in from a night out. But the concept of re-synchronizing seems very odd. It totally blows apart conventional notions of time as linear. It's like when you get onto the plane, you hit some sort of field that drags you slowly backwards in time. One book described jet lag as leaving your soul behind in one place, and then waiting for it to catch up as a numb, worn-out shell. My soul's over here right now, but it will return in time.

So before I left, I asked myself to reflect back upon who I was five weeks ago. I'm a little older now and a little wiser. I feel much better about becoming an academic--it really feels like the place for me. I used to hate conferences, but I've enjoyed *most* of the ones I've attended over here. I learned to take more risks, and live by the skin of my teeth. Or hang on by the skin of my teeth? I don't remember how the cliche goes exactly. So I hope that's what I'll bring back with me--besides a backpack full of scotch, a stuffed terrier, and notes on twenty manuscripts.

So I'll sign off with those words that best describe my trip:
"You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best.
I've been gone for a month. I've been drunk since I left.
These so-called vacations will soon be my death.
I'm so sick from the drink--I need home for a rest."

But I'll be hitting the skies some time soon.

Saying Goodbye

Sun, 27 Jul 2008 17:25:14 GMT

Apologies one and all. I don't have Internet access at my residence in Oxford so even though I've been writing messages, I haven't been able to post them. Currently, I'm in the "painted room" at Holyrood where computers are located. So I'll give you an update on today, and post the backlog when I get home. The gist so far: Oxford is lovely but I'm sick and tired from a cold.

Today is my last day in Oxford, and thus my "unofficial" last day on the trip. Tomorrow, I head to the British Library to check out the E manuscript, and then home on Tuesday! I'm trying to figure out how I feel about it all. Home has many responsibilities and obligations that I'm not positive that I'm looking forward to. Like typing up my notes, and learning German. And saying goodbye to Laura. And needing to clean again. But more than that, there are bits of myself and bits of my life that I like better over here. I'm less shy. I feel better connected to my field. I wake up wondering what will happen next. And I've made new friends. I guess the key to most of those issues is to remember it's not where you live that matters, it's how you live. And life can be just as exciting, and challenging, and new in Toronto as well. Plus, all of you are over there. And so is my won ton soup.

At the same time, I'm starting to make plans for when I return. I'd really like to experiment with making my own ink just to see what happens. All of you Scadians, if you have any ideas or contacts then let me know. I figure it wouldn't hurt to get the gist of some of the physical processes behind what I study. I'm also thinking that I'd like to have a birthday party before everyone takes off for parts unknown. Maybe late August or early September. I'll keep you posted. I'll also get a chance to start work on the fifty billion publications and conference papers I've promised people.

Today was my first day off in, like, forever. Sarah and I wandered around Oxford, eating KFC in the botanical gardens and mocking the foreign language students. In an hour or so I'm going to head out to the Eagle and Child, the pub made famous as the alcoholic host the Inklings: J. R. R. "Tollers" Tolkien , C. S. "Jack" Lewis , Owen Barfield , Charles Williams , Christopher Tolkien (J. R. R. Tolkien's son), Warren "Warnie" Lewis (C. S. Lewis's elder brother), Roger Lancelyn Green , Adam Fox , Hugo Dyson , Robert Havard , J. A. W. Bennett , Lord David Cecil , and Nevill Coghill. Yeah, you can see some pretty awesome names up there. And some less well known ones. It makes me think that the key to success is a small coterie of like-minded individuals. That's certainly the case for academia--everyone seems to form into tiny groups. Maybe it's a self-defense mechanism. I'll pass out the sign-up sheet for those of you who want to join my coterie when I get back. Then we shall rule the world!

Dialectic, Debate and Massacre

Mon, 21 Jul 2008 11:09:24 GMT

This is the proposed title for my dissertation about the combatative impulses of scholars within the field of medieval studies. Perhaps it's a little harsh, but people certainly have staked out their territory in such a way that they feel incredibly threatened by different methodological approaches. No one seems willing to say, "Well, that approach certainly gives us a different set of information than this." You may take this as a criticism, but I actually find it fascinating. And exciting. In the sense that you get to bring popcorn to battles in order to watch the occasional carnage. I can't wait for the chance when people start attacking me.

What this seems to have led to is tiny cliques, generally formed out of a kind of self-defence. Alex is the centre of the manuscript studies one. I've already used the term "coterie" in order to talk about her circle of friends. I think there may be some who see this as a bad thing, but I think its the only real way to change the field. A small group of like-minded, energetic individuals. That's how things get done. And there's a real sense of comradery to be part of such a group--taking on the establishment in order to get new approaches recognized. As much as it makes the work place a more threatening environment, it also makes it a more interesting one. One where things are happening and there's always good gossip to be had.

Case in point. I attended a panel today on pre-Chaucerian manuscripts which Will and Orietta were on. They both gave great paper. Both were talking about ways to open up the field of early Middle English through the exploration of different kinds of manuscript circulation. Orietta was dealing with West Midland manuscripts (which, incidentally, is how she came across Egerton 1993) while Will was talking about the South English Legendary. One of the guys in the audence came after Orietta. He thought we should only study one manuscript ever. A single manuscript can tell us everything we need to know. And--this manuscript should be in French or Latin! Alex responded that most of us are employed in English departments where we teach English literature. It's not entirely inappropriate to do some work in the field that we are hired to teach and research.

Similarly, in a concurrent session which I did not attend, James S------ had it out with Derek P------- about a bad review the latter had given the former. James quoted bits of the review, and described it as "graceless and unintelligent." Derek was seating front row centre. He responded in the question period with a rebuttal that was both graceful AND intelligent, stating that James had misread the review and clarifying some of the minor points. Obviously, they both came prepped for a fight. Equally entertaining to watching the actual occurences is seeing the huddled scholars whispering afterwards, with occasional pointed looks and wide, knowing eyes. I suppose that's what you get when you take a bunch of generally solitary misanthropists you like to read books, and then put them in a room together to play.

Love in Wales?

Sun, 20 Jul 2008 14:10:02 GMT

Whoo...a short day of panels so I can finally catch up on my sleep. I presented yesterday, and got a reasonably favourable reaction. The top names in the panel took most of the attention, of course, but even Peter R------- asked me a couple of questions, and said he had never thought of applying booklet theory to the "Canterbury Tales." I think my paper actually did the best in terms of performative value. People were less twitchy, and it was a hot, noisy room for the most part. Someone brought a baby. Who brings a baby to a panel? I made up a last minute Powerpoint presentation, which was probably wise. People like pictures. Even when they aren't terribly important. I will always use Powerpoint from now on. Though it was amusing to watch the three Japanese guys peering at their tiny computer, trying to get my memory stick to work.

Like I said last time, things have been crazy on this side of the pond. Last night, I joined up with Matt, some other grad students, and a guy named Tom Hanks (really) to grab dinner in Mumbles (really). Mumbles is a beautiful, amusingly-named place. I wished I lived in Mumbles. As we headed Mumbles-ward (mumbles, mumbles, mumbles), we had several other folk glom on to the group. This turned out to be really irritating, because it went from enough people to reasonably make decisions, to a herd of cats. Matt and I ended up ditching the others head back to campus to join Cord and his fiancee. The three of them are from Duke. I went out the night before for drinks, and they were a cool bunch. It's such a relief to deal with some laid-back people who I didn't need to impress. Swansea by night is very intriguing. Apparently, the local hobby is to dress up in costume before going out to the bars. Every weekend. There were guys in Roman armor, can-can girls, aliens, etc. It was like Halloween. We ended up in a dive bar in the centre of town. When I went to buy a round for the group, I was accosted by a Welshman who kept trying to get me to smell his potato chips. I tried to escape, but he followed me back to the table. There, Matt baffled him with an explanation of Derrida and Deconstructionism You know how some groups have a funny guy? That's Matt. He studies Gower. Once, he and his friends rented out a gorilla costume for a day. They would wander into classrooms early, write "Mr. Ape" on the board, and then flee when the teacher showed up. Or go to the cafeteria and grab trays and trays full of bananas. Or go into the library and wake up everyone sleeping, one by one. He had some good stories.

I thought networking was going to be difficult, but it really is as simple as being friendly and not misanthropic. I dragged myself out of bed at 8:50 in order to make the 9:00 panel. Afterwards, I just wanted to go back to bed, but someone approached me, and I got swept up in the flow to head to the tea break. There I met up with Sarah and Elan, one of her Washington state cohorts. The end result was that I agreed to give a paper at SEMA in October on their panel. This is now the second paper I've agreed to give next year, since Alex co-opted me for one at Kalamazoo on the South English Legendary.

Speaking of the South English Legendary, Alex talked to Alison and Orietta. She's going to help work out how we go about publishing the information. I told Will R----- since he showed up to my panel, that I had been right and I had made a discovery. He's actually staying next door to me in the conference accommodations. He's going to pass on his microfilms. I should really do a little more analysis and take a look through the data.

Anyway, today is my day off so I'm going to go watch Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog and then crash forever.

The Life Academic

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 09:53:26 GMT

Things have been sort of insanely busy over the past two days, so I haven't really caught you up on what's been going on. I still don't like Swansea, but I'm actually having a really good time. An exciting time. A confusing time. I realize that I am probably one of the most junior scholars at the conference. People keep expressing surprise that I'm presenting and travelling so early in my not-quite-a-dissertation-yet-but-one-day. I can see why, to a certain extent. I feel like more training and preparation might have been useful. I've been rubbing shoulders with some of the best people in the field, and I keep feeling like my comments are inane because I just don't know enough about their work. I met Alcuin B------- whose work I discussed in a Roman de la Rose paper. For the life of me, I couldn't remember if I agreed with him or was violently opposed. I think the latter actually.

At the same time, I'm finding myself caught between the grad students and Alex's coterie of book historians. I've been socializing with both, going out for drinks and having dinner with them individually, but I don't quite know how to navigate it. I feel kind of like Alex's pet student, but not in a condescending way. But I've been adopted by some of the people in that crowd. I still feel like I need to make a good impression. I'm always trying to juggle which hat to wear, so to speak--the bright-eyed youngster, the comic drunken grad student, the casual peer, and the talented up-and-comer. It's a bit exhausting.

To add to the mix, I talked with Alison W------ who informed me that Orietta -- ---- had also discovered Scribe 2 in another manuscript. In a South English Legendary manuscript. From the same date. With the same dialect. You can see where this is going. It turned out we had both approached her on the same day to say that we had made the same discovery for entirely different reasons. So Alison recommended we talk. Wise. So now I find myself approaching a moderately senior scholar to say I found the same thing. But how do I do that without sounding like I want to steal her thunder, or I'm worried about her stealing mine? It's been one of the first major issues of rank I've had to deal with. The first chat about it went off badly, but not horribly. It was just a crowded room, and we could hardly hear each other. I was trying to feel her out and judge her reaction. We talked again at dinner, and it went much better. She said she had a bunch of projects and so wasn't planning on working it up. She was just using it as an example in her paper. But we might co-write something. I need to talk to Alex.

I give my paper in the last session today, so I'm feeling nervous. Some of these panels have been more combatative, and I just don't feel as prepared as I could be. Plus, I'm a little hung-over. Only a bit. Really. I think my paper is actually pretty decent, and will contribute something good to the discussion. But I have the fear. I tried to attend another panel today. I ended up thinking about corrections to make and how to edit my paper. So no more panels until I present, I think. Wish me luck!

Rage, rage...

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 16:00:07 GMT

At the end of my last post, I was happily coming to bond with Swansea. Unfortunately, the honeymoon is over. That night, I was kept awake by the drunken shouting and doorslamming of undergraduates running through the dormitory. I'm on the 9th floor so that takes some doing. I was woken up by the sound of construction starting at 8:00 am. This morning, they were jack-hammering right over of my room on the roof. I thought it was the hangover, but no, it was more of the joys of Swansea.

I need to do a more thorough update because cool stuff happened last night, and talks with Alison W------ have yielded some intriguing news, but I don't want to right now. So, soon! You just get the bitching in one go.

Hail Cymru

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 18:17:19 GMT

Sometimes it takes longer for the spirit of a place to enter you. When I entered Wales I was tired, sweaty, and vaguely nauseous from train station burgers. I was grumpy. I was homesick. I was not at all interested in attending a six day conference.

On top of that, Swansea, despite a romantic sounding name, greets the eye with the pallor of a city in recesion. The houses are all the same brown brick cast of those of London, but there's a feeling of dinginess. The sky was scudded with grey clouds that turned the sun into a tiny silvery penny barely visible through the haze. Unlike Scotland, where the taxi ride had left me with a feeling of awe, ancient castles looming over the city. Swansea is a bit of an industrial wreck.

The campus is itself no better. The buildings all seem to be in that horrid sixties-style architecture that normally plagues most campuses like pimples on prom night--we all get them but we do our best to hide them. The University of Swansea, however, has a serious acne problem. I haven't seen a single building I could call remotely attractive. Not to mention that I seem to be an hour's walk from anywhere with decent food. The campus pub served me lousy curry with the occasional mostly-cold blob of chicken.

I returned to my room even grumpier, despite the pint of Fosters, and set to work on my paper. It still needed some tweaking, and even though I've told everyone I've been working on it for the last four days, I honestly hadn't touched it. After about forty five minutes of revision, however, I read through the New Chaucer brossure, which suggested having a walk on the beach before dinner. I figured it might not hurt to get out.

As I headed towards the beach, it started to rain. Great, I thought. More of English weather. The beach itself is not particularly pretty. The land curves around to create an inlet about two miles long. The tide had started to go out, leaving behind a bunch of black crags covered in seaweed that hung off it like limp hair. That's not just poetic. But as I walked, I found myself relaxing. I'm like that when I get outside sometimes. As much as I love the city, nothing relaxes me more than getting out on my own in a wide open space. I feel like, to a certain extent, the space of my awareness shrinks as soon as I come into contact with people. When I get out in the open, by myself, I can feel my mind expanding outward like a lung filling with air. My shoulder muscles stop tensing. I even found an unexpected smile on my face.

I walked along for a good forty five minutes, investigating the mussel shells that studded the beach, chasing seagulls, and testing exactly how water resistant my shoes were. All of this put me in a much more relaxed mood. I'm not a terribly relaxed and mellow person under the best of circumstances. I tend to jump between emotions, and very seldom to I simply sit and be. But sometimes, when I'm in the woods, or on a deserted beach, I'll do it. And it makes me happy.

So I feel better about Swansea, despite the annoying undergrads, the architecture, and the lack of food. Just seeing the ocean, and the hills rising above the city, gives me a better sense of the place---the smell of seaweed, the sound of gulls and waves crashing in the background, the lilt to words, the lack of vowels except the letter 'y'. This is Wales.

What Happens in Spamalot...

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 18:16:18 GMT

Technically, this should come before the other entry, but there you have it--looking forward followed by looking backward. Keeps me balanced.

Yesterday was another trip up to London, though one which was far less planned out in the end. I was supposed to meet Jen at the British Library at 11:00 in the morning. Jen is another compatriot from Massey College. She's and incredibly brilliant Renaissance scholar, and she has the amazing ability to wear high heels everywhere. Seriously. I always feel like a total slob next to her. She is the most poised, made-up person I've ever met. I got there a bit early, stashed my stuff in a locker, and waited. 11:10. 11:20. Finally, I sent a text message to Creep Dave, with whom she was staying. Immediately I got a call from Jen saying that she had slept in until 10:45, and was feeling sick as a dog. She had just flown in the previous day, so I think jet lag hit her hard. We agreed to meet for lunch at 12:30 at the Globe. This kinda worked out in my favour since I got to see the Globe.

Do you ever find that there are absolutely appropriate backdrops for people? Well, that's the Globe for Jen. I took the Tube (yecchhhhh) and got there about five minutes early. 12:30. 12:40. 12:50. A frantic call from Jen saying that she took the wrong Tube line and would be along shortly. Which she was. We hugged, said our hellos, and headed out for lunch in order to catch up. I had a duck sandwich with a glass of Pimms. I am now a great fan of Pimms (some sort of alcohol mixed with lemonade, ginger ale?, fruit and cucumber). She told me about newly married life. I told Jen about my adventures. (People keep asking me if I've met any boys over here, and I'm starting to feel vaguely guilty about not having more random sex.) She was running late, having already been running late, so we agreed to meet for dinner before Spamalot. Coincidentally, she is going today.

So I headed back to the library in order to try to get a little bit of work in. Unfortunately, they only delivered one of the three manuscripts I ordered. And not a very interesting one. I realized I was absolutely wiped, so I flipped through it for a bit, did a bit of research using the editions of texts in the library, and then headed out. I ended up walking around along Regent St, which I assume is the shopping district. It was an absolute madhouse! But I snapped a couple of good pictures. London never ceases to amaze me in how different in can be. Southwark, where the Globe is (and incidentally where Chaucer's pilgrims meet up), is very industrial feeling at this point. Sadly, no trace of all the taverns that must have inhabited it in both Chaucer and Shakespeare's day. Incidentally, it is pronounced "Suth-uk." Who knew? But Regent St. was very trendy, with beautiful, tall buildings all around. Eventually, I made my way to the Palace Theatre and sat around to wait for Jen. 6:00 rolled by. 6:15. 6:30. Finally, at 6:40 she made it, so we hurried out for a rushed dinner. (If you're reading this, Jen, I really don't mind. I actually thought it was funny in the end.) We went to an amazing Indonesian restaurant, had more Pimms, and chatted more. Jen confessed that though she intended to see many Shakespeare original manuscripts, she didn't know what to do with them when she saw them. I told her that was exactly how I felt when people handed me manuscripts. You just learn by doing, and figure it out.

So on to Spamalot. Overall, I think I had felt disappointed by Lord of the Rings, and I had really wanted to see Wicked. I wasn't sure what to expect of Spamalot. I like Monty Python, but am not a die-hard fan (probably because I have spent my life around those who are). I got up to my seat, crammed right in the corner of the balconey where half the stage wasn't visible. Luckily, I managed to snag a closer seat as the show was beginning. I wasn't the only one who took advantage of open seats, but the majority of people got kicked out when ticket holders showed up about 15 minutes into the show. But not me! I kept my seat.

Spamalot was, without a doubt, awesome! They managed to keep enough of the old material to maintain familiarity, while at the same time adding in lots of new stuff. The songs were well-integrated. We got some old favourites---"Always look on the bright side of life..."---as well as some new ones---"I'm not dead yet!" "The song that goes like this!". But the best part was that there was a kind of sincerity to the out-and-out hamming up of the show. Big musical numbers. Wacky costumes. Intermittant special effects. It knew it was a West End show, and didn't pretend to be anything but camp and British humour. So it worked. The second act was quite good because it actually brought the show to some sort of resolution. The end of the movie makes no sense. I'm not sure it's supposed to make sense. But the ending of Spamalot worked. "We're coming to the close...we need to find the Grail and have a wedding!" So, I highly recommend it.

The trip back to Cambridge was much easier. I had a day pass on the Tube, and I stayed far away from staircases. As a result, I got home about an hour earlier and did not fear for my life at any part throughout the trip. I know, I know. It takes away the sense of adventure. Still. Actually, I was secretly worried that I was supposed to have moved out that morning, and that all my luggage would be gone. Luckily, it turned out fine. All in all, good times, if not as academically-profitable as the previous trip.

The Long Way Home

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 18:15:15 GMT

I'm now sitting on a train London-bound, where I will soon disembark, heading to Paddington station, and catch a second train to Swansea. Cambridge has been lovely. The first couple of days at the beginning were a welcome rest, but already I find that I could use another. It's hard operating at a hundred percent when you are constantly over-stimulating. Eventually, the mind just starts to shut it all out. I'm starting to dread five (six? seven?) days of conferencing. On the bright side, there are consecutive panels so I think I'll only attend when I think I'll enjoy, and leave the rest. There's a lesson learned from Kalamazoo. Sometimes more is less.

It was amazing how when I returned to Bloomsbury and the University of London, it felt a little like visiting an old home. I'm debating about whether Cambridge feels homey. Certainly, Darwin College reminded me of Massey. And it's porter was awesome! But there wasn't the same kind of non-stop excitement I felt in London, so I don't think I needed to bond with the place quite as much. Also, home for me is as much about people as locations. When Holly left about halfway through the stay, it became another sort of place. It was great to have her along. Furthermore, home has toilet paper.

Cambridge also felt more like a working trip. I spent most of my time in various libraries, getting acquainted with manuscripts. This was at times exhilerating and at times remarkably dull. I'm very excited at some of the stuff I found. Part of me would like to go home now, and spent a couple of days writing up the preliminary basis for my article. But there are miles to go before I sleep.

I've now passed the halfway mark on the trip. Less than two weeks to go! I find that I'm starting to look forward to going home. I really want my own bed. And Laura's won ton soup. Good God, I want that soup. Home is also food for me. That food is home. I would live in the soup if I could, and inhabit won ton wrappers for ever, surfing on green onions and playing like an otter in its sweet, sweet broth. This message has taken a turn for the stranger. But, seriously, I want the soup. Then I could come back over and travel some more.

Despite my whinging, some of my favourite memories are being in libraries. When I discovered Scribe 2's paraphs, I was so excited I was bouncing around in my seat, trying to catch Will R----- to confirm my questions about the provenance and dating of the manuscript. And there is a distinct feel and smell to the manuscripts. Sometimes you get a sense of the people behind the objects. I felt much closer to the Auchinleck MS than I did to any of the ones I saw on this trip. Scribe 2---who I mentally think of as the Happy Scribe---he's my man.

Spamalot was awesome! Punting was...tiring but lots and lots of fun. I think it might be more restful if you have a five course meal with you. If I come back, that might be worth trying. Otherwise, I might see if I can rent a kayak at Oxford. I'd like to see the colleges by river, but a kayak seems eminently more practical for one. Other good memories. Drinking half a bottle of wine a night with Holly was exactly what I needed. How will I get through the rest of the trip without a drinking buddy? Crashing the Darwin Garden Party, and the second champagne party following were both surprisingly entertaining. Academics can be fun when you throw enough alcohol at them. Finally, there is also the fact that I stole about twelve half-rolls of toilet paper from the Cambridge Library. This amauses me to no end.

But I'm ready for a change of scenery, and I wonder what Wales will bring. It is not so often in life that I find myself looking towards the future with a genuine sense of adventure for what comes next. But the truth is that anything can happen. It's easier to take advantage of opportunities I'd ignore back home, because there is no safety net. But I guess you never really get a safety net. You just get a better pretence of one. But here comes the long way home.

Bunny Murderer Strikes Fear Across a Nation--Will Humans be the Next Target?

Mon, 14 Jul 2008 17:37:50 GMT

From the London Times...

The roll call of victims is growing longer by the day. They have names like Rocco, Fussel, Marianne and fluffy---and a five-man police unit asa file on each and every one. The so-called "bunny murders"--40 domestic rabbits killed at night in thei hutches, heads and sometimes paws sliced off---is stunning communities across western German.

"Nobody knows where the killer will strike next," said Inspector Volker Schutte. One theory is that a group of Satanists is behind the wave of killings, because there is an almost ritualistic pattern....So far, inquiries in Satanis and cultis groups have turned up little---but a child's coffin and a red elcet cloth were found recently near the scene of the rabbit killings. The coffin was empty but there was rabbit hair on the cloth.

Few countires are as sensitiveto animal cruelty as Germany. Even the Nazis, while putting into place a system to mass murder the Jews, introduced some of the toughest animal protection laws in the world. Vivisection was banned. Hermann Hoering, Hit'erls henchman, announced that vivisectors wold be held in concetration camps until they were put on trial; the Nazis regulated the shoeing of horses, the boiling of lobsters and even the cutting up of frogs for bait. As the war wore on, the Nazies tolerated the keeping of rabbits on balconies to supplement meat rations---but it remained a highly sensitve issue.

Little wonder then that the full resources of the police are being deplayed. DNA samples are being taken from the mutilated rabbits. There are no witnesses, so the team of detectives has been unable to issue an Identikit picture, but it has developed a sophisticated networking analysis linking all the rabbit breeders who have been affected so far. Have there been feuds within the rabbit-breeding community? Was the timeing of the attacks linked to competition show dates?

The nervous breeders of the Ruhr are shifting their rabbits into safe houses: hutches are being set up i ncellars or in secluded garden allotments away from the main house.

"Any one of us could be next on the hit list," said Horst Hauscha, 65, a breeder from Dortmund.

Some breeders are setting up a neighbourhood watch system. But there is the nagging fear that the killer may not be the psychopathic longer being hunted by the police, but rather one of their own community; a breeder with a dark secret.