Breaking an Addiction

Some time ago, while I was working as a pizza delivery guy, I tried to give up caffeine. Within 48 hours, I had a raging migraine, couldn't focus on anything, and felt like throwing up. It was all I could do to keep from curling up on the floor in the fetal position and rocking back and forth until the darkness came.

Let's back this story up and get a bit of context.

When I was a young child, my grandmother thought it was just the cutest thing that when she would spoon-feed me black coffee, I would drink it. Apparently I liked it. So, whenever she would see me - which was pretty regularly when she babysat me as a child - she would sit me on her lap and spoon feed me coffee.

It didn't take long before I was begging for sips of my father's coffee, and I became a coffee drinker of my own accord before I can remember, ordering it at restaurants and having it at home whenever I could. For the last several years, coffee has been my primary source of fluid intake - often it is the only thing I drink all day. Why would you drink water when you could have coffee?

You might be thinking at this point, "How is this man still alive? Shouldn't he have died of dehydration?" Well, perhaps that's a lesson for another time on how popular science has failed us. But it is also something that I have wondered on occasion.

So about a year ago, while I was delivering pizza for a living, I thought I would try to give it up. I figured that my caffeine addiction was probably not healthy, and I might benefit from trying to break it. The experience left me, as outlined above, broken and helpless.

And now I'm trying again!

I gave up my (hopefully former) lifeblood nearly 48 hours ago, and have so far suffered only mild headaches and lack of concentration. We'll see how the next 24 hours go. Stay tuned for a possible post in which I type random numbers and letters because I can do no more than bash my aching head against the keyboard in agony.

This Is Ogden

So, I'm thinking of starting a project. Not that I don't have enough projects - as if I actually need something else to fill my time - but this is something that struck me last week and has been festering in the back of my mind, fighting for my attention.

I plan to start a YouTube channel, tentatively called "This Is Nash," that will consist entirely of dramatic readings of Ogden Nash poetry.

For those unfamiliar with Nash, he was an American poet, known for writing light verse. He was born in 1902, and published over 500 poems by the time of his death in 1971. My hope is to film myself dressed in formal attire reciting some of my favourite Nash poems in an environment that is relevant to the poem's content. For example, I may film myself shaving my face, looking into the reflection of the camera in the bathroom mirror, reciting Song Before Breakfast:

Hopeful each morning I arise

And splash the cobwebs from my eyes.

I brush my teeth and scrape my chin

And bravely at the mirror grin.

Sternly I force myself to say,

Huzza! Huzza! Another day!

Oh happy me! Oh lucky I!
Another chance with life to vie!

Another golden opportunity

To rise and shine in this community!

Another target for my aim!

Another whack at wealth and fame!

Almost I feel within me stir

A budding force of character...

... And so on and so forth, with all the seriousness I can muster. I would hope to film quite a few of these, and release them on a YouTube channel for the world to enjoy. Because I can't think of anyone who wouldn't enjoy a good dramatic reading of a Nash poem.

 I am immensely excited for this project, and I'll be posting again once I've filmed a video. I'll leave you with the first few lines from one of my favourite Nash poems, simply entitled, Splash:

Some people re do-it-some-other-timers and other people are do-it-nowers,

And that is why manufacturers keep on manufacturing both bathtubs and showers,

Because some bathers prefer to recline

On the cornerstone of their spine,

While others, who about their comfort are less particular,

Bathe perpendicular.

Review: A Thousand Farewells

For the past two months, I made slow progress through a book called A Thousand Farewells. The book is a memoir of sorts written by Nahlah Ayed, a Canadian freelance journalist working from the Middle East. It follows Ayed from her arrival in Pakistan following the September 11 attacks, through a number of conflicts, uprisings and protests, to her return to Canada at the time of the book's completion.

There is no flattering way to put it; the book is a dry, heavy read through most of its 339 pages. Aside from the occasional anecdote that reads as more personal and reflective, it presents like a never-ending run-on news story written in the first person. However, this style does seem to serve a purpose.

While the stories may come off as cold, removed and overly objective at times, the dry journalistic style does an effective job of shifting much of the reader's focus away from Ayed's personal experience, toward the stories of others and the places and events at which she was present. Assuming this was the goal, it was accomplished in full and with careful tact. At first, I found the tone and execution of the narrative to be unengaging and impersonal, but as I began to consider the stories of the people and places above her own, I came to appreciate it for what it was.

On one hand, I would have liked to have seen more of her personal reflections on and reactions to her experiences. As it stands, she saves most of this for the end of the book, with only a few comments on very major experiences actually placed within the stories. However, I can see that the choice was intentional, and I believe it works.

The stuttering barrage of seemingly irrelevant names, places and qualifying details was the only thing about the book that I have yet to find justification for. I found it very difficult at times to process the stories when I was trying to either sound out or cross-reference half a dozen names and locations within the space of a few paragraphs.

Part of my school assignment on this book requires me to describe what a journalist might learn from this book. Aside from the obvious value to a journalist potentially working in the Middle East or amidst some sort of uprising, I found the book to be surprisingly lacking in journalistic relevance. The main lesson that a journalist could (and should) take from it is spelled out near the end: "People are not quotes or clips," Ayed writes, "used to illustrate stories about war and conflict. People are the story, always."

She also talks about the value of living in a place in order to really become immersed in the stories, and the importance of connecting with people at length and off camera. These ideas are backed up by the rest of the book, to be sure, but are also not strikingly original or unintuitive. To a journalist, I imagine the book would simply serve as a tool to strengthen existing values and instincts rather than to impart new ideas.

Another piece of the assignment asks for a comparison to another work of non-fiction. I haven't been a consumer of much non-fiction lately, but I believe an interesting comparison would be to Naomi Klein's The Shock Doctrine. Klein, also a journalist, presents an extensive essay on what she calls "disaster capitalism," or the forced conversion of a society to extreme capitalism in the wake of a major disaster.

While the subject matter and purpose of the books are completely different, I would have expected more similarities in the style and delivery. However, Klein's book manages to feel decidedly more personal, despite the academic nature of her subject. The Shock Doctrine contains only a handful of interviews - in fact, very little human interaction at all - but portrays a warmth and humanity that persuades the reader to adopt her view

This is very intentional; Klein's book is, after all, a persuasive essay of sorts, while Ayed's chooses to remain as objective as possible. A stark juxtaposition is formed: Klein creates an impassioned argument from research, history and a few personal interactions, while Ayed coolly and objectively tells the story of her own interactions and experiences with a bit of history thrown in.

In the end, I came away from reading A Thousand Farewells with a greater understanding of some Middle Eastern conflict, as well as a strong appreciation for foreign correspondents dealing with stories of major conflict. Beyond this, the book did not affect me to any great degree.

50 Years of Heartache & Heartbreak

It occurred to me yesterday that this week's episode of The Dark End Of The Street would fall on Valentine's Day. I'm a bit slow on the uptake, I realize, but I considered it a very appropriate revelation nonetheless.

In light of the convenient overlap, I decided to create a Valentine's Day special of sorts, entitled "50 Years of  Heartache & Heartbreak." I'll be playing 15 of my favourite songs about lost love and loneliness, running chronologically from 1963 to the present. The playlist includes Bob Dylan, Al Green, The Guess Who, Nazareth, R.E.M., and some modern-day favourites as well, and covers each of the last five decades. The crowning jewel though, in my humble opinion, will be Foreigner's "I Wanna Know What Love Is":

So, if this sounds enticing to you, tune in here from 8-9 tonight and prepare to wallow the night away. If you're reading this and you missed the broadcast, have no fear! You can find the podcasts here, and tonight's episode should be up early next week.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Christmas Comes Late

The past week has been a kind of slapback-echo of Christmas for me, as I rounded up the gift cards I received over the holidays and picked out what to buy. I'm sure many people blow any credit-related Christmas spoils on Boxing Day, when prices are low and the high of the holidays is threatening to fade. However, I quite like waiting until long after the holidays to relive some of the magic.

My birthday is in January, so I have the unique opportunity to spread the gifts and festivities over a rather long period of time. Only now, long after Christmas and several weeks after my birthday, I finally decided to redeem my final set of gifts, ending my extended holiday season. So I went to the record store.

Into The Music was my destination - a vast trove of vinyl old and new, in Winnipeg's historic Exchange District. After combing through nearly every new record in the store and searching hundreds of used records in the soul and rock sections, not to mention a lengthy stay in front of the bargain bin, I came away with my treasures.

I picked up the soundtrack from The Kids Are Alright by The Who, Play Deep by The Outfield, Moe Koffman's Greatest Hits, and a few intriguing selections from the bargain bin. However, the crowing jewel was Antony & The Johnsons' Cut the World. Here's a sample (although it's not the same as vinyl - and I know how hipster that sounds):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNBUGxBpHbQ

Cut the World is a live album recorded with the Danish National Chamber Orchestra, and gives stunning reinterpretations of some of the band's more popular songs, as well as the previously unheard title track. The recording itself is superb - this was no afterthought re-editing of a board mix. This was obviously a staged event, organized for the purpose of recording this beautiful collaboration. It's an absolute must-hear for any Antony & The Johnsons fan.

The Waiting Room

On Wednesday, some CreComm friends and I went to see The Waiting Room at Cinematheque. For those unfamiliar with the film, it's a documentary about the American health care system. It chronicles a day in the life of the doctors, nurses and patients at Highland Hospital in Oakland, California.

I had a basic knowledge of the American healthcare system going in, but I found that the film really brought to life some of its flaws and deficiencies. That being said, however, many statistics have shown that Americans have better quality healthcare than Canadians - it's just that not all Americans can afford it.

A 2010 Commonwealth survey reported by the Health Council of Canada found that 42% of Canadians waited 2 or more hours in the emergency room, where only 29% of Americans have had to wait that long. The study also found that 43% of Canadians waited 4 or more weeks to see a specialist, versus only 10% in the United States.

This improved service comes at a price, though. A 2007 Consumer Reports study stated that 16% of Americans have no coverage or insurance at all, and an additional 24% are under-insured, working with insurance that barely covers their immediate medical needs and would not leave them prepared to deal with any additional medical expenses. Compare this to the Canadian system, where all essential medical services (aside from prescription medications) are covered for all citizens, and you begin to see where the imbalance lies.

According to the Congressional Research Service, the United States government spent $6,102 on healthcare per person on average, which is more than double the average of OECD countries and 20% more than the second-highest country, Luxembourg. And this considering most healthcare in the United States is privatized.

This might be a result of the gross inefficiencies of their system. The New England Journal of Medicine published an article in 2003 stating that medical administration costs in the United States were more than triple the amount they were in Canada, and that Canada's provincial single-payer system had overhead costs of 1.3%, versus a whopping 13.2% in the American private insurance system - more than ten times the cost. 

OK, that's enough analysis of the healthcare systems.

As a documentary, I think The Waiting Room worked well. It definitely told a story, following a number of the patients from admission through to discharge and following the staff throughout their shifts. I think the film portrayed the stories of the patients and staff in a very natural, engaging way, simply by observing and capturing the right moments. There was no narration, no text overlays, no additions of any kind; there was only the words and actions of the people at the hospital, in a natural and relevant context.

Within the context of a single hospital, I think the documentary maintained objectivity. However, as a commentary on the American healthcare system as a whole, the fact that it was only documenting the one hospital definitely narrows its scope. It was obviously a conscious choice, and I think it worked.

My one complaint with the film was the shooting. Much of the time I would attempt to focus my eyes on a certain person in the shot, but the camera would be focused on something else, or on nothing at all. It would then shift focus to something else, and then back, and then to nothing, and so on. There was no end to the refocusing, and there were too many moments where nothing was in focus, or where only one small irrelevant piece of furniture would be in focus, instead of the faces or hands or other important things in the shot.

I thought that most the people the director chose to show and to interview were great. The staff members in particular were immensely helpful to the story, and made the film easier to engage with. They had great insight, even subtly through their stories, and their personalities were shown through their various scenes. I felt that the interviews were well placed, and felt very natural - they just came and went, without the viewer really noticing a definite change in tone from candid to interview.

The audio was also tasteful. Music was sparse to non-existent; I only noticed it at the very beginning and during the end credits, as well as in one brief scene where the waiting room is almost empty and is being cleaned. I thought that bit of music added some colour, interest and reprieve without pushing the story in any one direction. The rest of the audio was neither here nor there - some good ambient sounds were included, but nothing spectacular or out of the ordinary.

Overall, I enjoyed The Waiting Room, and for me it sparked some interesting analysis and reflection on our own healthcare system.

Solo Album IPP

The deadline for our IPP (Independent Professional Project) proposals is still somewhat far off, but I've been putting some thought into my project, and have come to a decision. I am going to record an album.

Over the summer, I'm planning to work with Allen Penner of Motive Music in Steinbach to do all of the recordings. Hopefully I'll end up with enough songs for a short album, although an EP would work just as well. 

By September, I plan to be finished in the studio, at which point I will start organizing the release of the album. My aim is to have a release event in December, in the form of a concert with some kind of reception. If planning goes poorly - or the timing works out in favour of the backup plan - I may move the release event to February, during Reading Week.

At this point, I have a handful of songs written for the album, but will need to write about half a dozen additional songs in order to have enough material. This is something I'm already beginning work on. Here's one song that will definitely be on the album, although in a more fully realized capacity:

In other news, the radio show is going well, and I encourage anyone who likes vintage soul and R&B, or melancholy music of any genre, to tune in to The Dark End of the Street, Thursdays at 8pm at radio.rrc.ca. I'll be getting podcasts up soon as well. For more info on the show, see my previous post, and follow the show on Twitter: @DarkEndShow.