April 2013

February 2013

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I've written countless Editor's Letters, and various other articles, during my tenure here at absynthe and each month I find that it's harder to write something engaging. Luckily for me (and honestly, all of you) my time with absynthe is over, so I will no longer spend countless hours a month wondering what to write in these.

I have to say that I love Trent, and it has been a great experience. During the course of my undergrad I've been involved in a lot of groups, been ISW Co-Chair, Cabinet President, worked for Trent, worked for Sadleir House and been Editor of absynthe. I feel like I have had an incredible Trent experience, where I've made the best out of the resources offered and really taken advantage of the close-knit community.

Because of all of these opportunities I have met great people, and had some really awesome times. And I think made some of the best friends possible.

However, I've also watched student involvement slowly dwindle. I think that has been reflected in the content of this magazine. We rely, for the most part, on student submissions. Each year we have a handful of staff, but without student submissions it's nearly impossible to print a magazine that really represents the student body.

I always say this, but I really encourage students to put their work out there. Whether it's in the form of a rant, a poem, artwork, prose, etc we would love to print it for you. Not only that, but we will advertise your student groups for free. So, I hope that next year the magazine will see the number of submissions pick up and that absynthe will continue in the future in whatever capacity works for the university.

The mandate of Absynthe Magazine is to encourage constructive dialogue and critical thinking within the Trent community. As an on-campus publication, Absynthe shall strive to represent as many people of the community as possible by presenting varying views on all matters that are of importance to the community and especially the student body. In the spirit of free and independent press, Absynthe shall strive for the highest degree of journalistic integrity and excellence while providing a medium for creative and alternative expression. It will actively stimulate and concourage discussion through itself or any other means available to members of the Trent community.

Hey, you!

Yeah, you!!

You look like you’ve got some talent in you, kid.

Submit your work to Absynthe Magazine!

Submission Guidelines Absynthe is a submissions-based magazine. Any Trent student who wishes to be published can send their work to us at trentabsynthe@gmail.com. Submissions can be any length, and can be written in any style.

Submissions will be subject to editing for spelling and grammar as well as verified for appropriate content.

Please include your name for publication. Photos and images are encouraged, but are required to have a minimum resolution of 300dpi. Articles may be held for publication at a later date.

Jen Freele You recognize the name, and perhaps would even know his face.

But the story behind this iconic man is far more unique and involved than you might imagine.

Jean Dean died on September 30th 1955, over 57 years ago. On that day, fans flocked in the thousands to makeshift vigils around the world. Suicide pacts were made and acted upon. Giant, his third and final film, hadn’t even wrapped yet when the cast and crew were called on to mourn their picture’s star. James Dean was only 24, hardly yet a man, though undeniably, not just a boy. He had only been in the

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determinately confined to a life of glasses and a short-stature from a young age. Jimmy’s adolescence was a painful one: an only child plagued by loneliness, losing his beloved mother to cancer when he was only 9, being abandoned by his father soon after and eventually being raised by his uncle and aunt in a rural farmhouse. Sounds like the typical trope for an attention-needing, validation-seeking child, and that was just what he was. Although quiet, Jimmy was strong-willed and passionate.

Acting was close to his heart as it reminded him of his mother and the plays he used to put on

y wearing leather jackets, kissing girls, crashing cars, and standing up to his on-screen parents... spotlight for a few short years before his death, but the impact that he made on the movie industry as well as on the lives on many teenagers in the ‘50s who felt isolated and repressed is arguably unmatched. So how did he manage all that? And why should we care?

Born in Indiana in 1939, he was a fair-haired and smart kid,

for her, plays that his father had always disapproved of. It became something he wanted to pursue, and after exhibitionist school plays and mediocre college performances, James wandered into New York, wanting to meet and beat the great actors of the time.

He looked into joining the Actor’s Studio and learning the method theory, the ultimate

innovation in acting excellence.

It basically taught that to act a role, you needed to become that role and immerse yourself emotionally in the experiences of the character. It seems like a pretty basic idea to us in the 21st century, but it was just emerging for Dean’s generation. The New York lifestyle suited country boy Jimmy perfectly. He rarely slept full nights because he was too busy experiencing 24/7 life. He hung out at seedy bars and diners, talked philosophy with other aspiring actors and musicians, and kept dreaming. In his spare time he dabbled in photography, painting and sculpting, and playing the bongos. In 1952, he was accepted in the Actor’s Studio, and his career really began.

First a commercial, then a spot as an extra, then a one-line role on a daytime soap, and you have an acting career. Jimmy’s start was much the same: madefor-TV movies, a few sloppy lines in a war film, the kid who gets shot and falls out of a window on a primetime special, and so on. Dean wanted a movie, and director Elia Kazan took a chance on this young nobody. East of Eden, the movie based on John Steinbeck’s novel about the love

and hatred in a family, was to be a cinematic masterpiece with relatively unknown actors. Kazan wanted the emotion to permeate the audience, and although Marlon Brando was screen-tested for the lead role of the jealous and unruly brother Cal, it miraculously went to James Dean.

This was the first film he made, and the only to be released before his death. James had finally made it to the screen, and his success was instantaneous.

He was immediately picked up to play Jim, his most iconic role, in Rebel Without a Cause, a title that has become synonymous with Dean’s own name. By wearing leather jackets, kissing girls, crashing cars, and standing up to his on-screen parents, Dean took this role to bank, taking all his fawning female followers with him. His acting was raw and honest, and people really started to notice. Audiences connected to his emotional vulnerability and by 1954, he was a star.

During the filming of East of Eden he fell in love with Pier Angeli, a young Italian actresss whom he met at the film studios. She was beautiful and sweet, and he was enthralled. They had a passionate affair, but soon her controlling parents found out and intervened.

Years later there is speculation about the validity of this affair..

Giant was his last film, a film about a Texan ranch and the people who lived there.

James played the supporting role alongside acting greats Elizabeth Taylor and Rock Hudson. During the movie, Jimmy transi-

tions from a young and spiteful boy into an old and prosperous man, eerily reflecting the recent advances he had experienced in his career. This was his third and last film. His father, who had remarried years previous, still didn’t understand Jimmy’s acting or the man he had become.

Some say that Jimmy lived his life recklessly, and they may be right. However, when James Dean died in a car crash on his way to a racetrack in California, he was not the cause. Dean was speeding down Rt. 466 when his Porsche Spyder was hit by an oncoming car that turned in front of his vehicle. Dean died at the scene, When his life ended, his legend began.

His face, mannerisms, and attitude, both on screen and off, captured the typical ‘50s American youth. Still somehow he transcends that image, and remains relatable to this day. In that respect, he is timeless; his acting will always be real and connected, a quality not often found in stars from the early decades of film.

He vanished in the prime of his career, and because he never lived to disappoint, we are able to relish in the mystery of what could have been. He had experienced so much loss, so much pain and rejection, and so much success; much more than most people experience by middle-age. He was only 24, an age that most of us students are about to reach or have already surpassed. Doesn’t that make you wonder what you’ve done with your life so far?

Joel Vaughan

Call them what you will, big balls of space-rock are in the news as of late and it's time you should know about them.

Whether it be the apocalyptic near-miss of Asteroid DA14, the unpredicted earth-shaking impact in Western Russia, or the pea-sized rock that allegedly struck a German teenager, it's become clear that the sky is falling – and it's falling on you.

DA14 is quite the boulder. On February 15th , the asteroid passed Earth within 17 200km, a distance nearer than many satellites. Interestingly enough, however, it's not the actual impact we'd have to worry about – measuring 50m across, barrelling at a speed of 12.7km/s, and entering the atmosphere at a 45o angle, the explosion upon entering the atmosphere would be equivalent to 138 atomic bombs. The air-blast alone could do catastrophic damage to humans living anywhere near the point of entry, let alone the offchance it enters near a major city.

A similar sized asteroid exploded over Siberia in 1908, annihilating endless fields of forest – it wasn't pretty. If it wasn't obliterated in the blast, the rock loses any velocity it had in this explosion and falls to Earth at terminal velocity, another (albeit, smaller)

cause for concern. Thankfully, DA14 passed safely overhead on the day it was scheduled to, though it is expected to return (and nearly strike again) in 2046.

You may sleep soundly until then.

Or perhaps not.

On that fated day, February 15th, while all eyes watched DA14 in its deadly dance an astronomical hairline away, something unexpected was brewing in the East. Over the Russian city

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e are but one space rock in an ocean of space rocks

Chelyabinsk Oblast, a completely unrelated meteorite came flying through the atmosphere at 18km/s, exploding with the power of 20 atomic bombs. Causing 1419 injuries and $33 million dollars in damages, this incident shows just how little we know about predicting the trajectory of small meteorites. Was DA14 some sort of diversion? If so, then who's behind it all? God only knows.

On June 12th, 2009, a 14 year-old student from Germany named Gerrit Blank was on his way to school, minding his own business.

Without warning, something streaked across the

sky and burned his hand, only before puncturing the ground and leaving a nice little crater: a pea-sized meteorite with a personal vendetta, it would seem.

Now – of course – Gerrit's account has been discredited by the scientific community. Apparently, his story sounds more like a Hollywood movie's depiction of a space-rock impact than what would actually happen in reality, whatever that means. But anyone worth listening to already knows the extent to which the scientific community has been infiltrated with Illuminati and Freemasons, so perhaps this discrediting can only serve to affirm our faith in Gerrit Blank even more.

What results from these three short case studies is obvious: we are but one space rock in an ocean of space rocks, the crucial difference being that most of them are out to get us. You are not safe. If we are to have any chance of surviving the impending asteroid uprising, we must either consider some sort of large-scale bubble-defense system, or else go on the offensive. Perhaps asteroids will reconsider their anti-atmospheric lifestyle when it is us bashing into them. If not even then, at least we could say we tried. ■

If you use your brain like a muscle and exercise it, it can yield some amazing results!

Jen Freele It’s April, and exams are upon us! The days leading up to your finals will most likely be filled with highlighted pages, bookmarked sections and lecture notes that you don’t quite understand. And if you manage to cram this information in your head, guaranteed that right after your 3 hours of scribbling and stressing in the gym, you will walk out

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cient Greeks, that trains your mind to hold onto seemingly random information effectively by using more than just basic techniques for memorization? It’s called the Method of Loci, and it may just be the answer to solving you exam woes this semester.

Picture your home, the family home that you grew up in and know very well. Feel the

he Method of Loci has been used by scholars and lay people alike since ancient Rome and Greece of those doors and not be able to remember a single thing you studied for. This is the unfortunate reality of many university students who have grown up through an education system that encourages the regurgitation of information in a relatively meaningless way – through exams.

Well, why not make the most of reality and try a new method of memorization, one that has been around since the time of the an-

flooring on the pads of your feet, take in the light coming in from the window, fill your nostrils with the smell of your panting dog or fresh laundry or both. This is your space, and what you will use to create your Memory Palace.

You walk in your front door and coming down the stairs on a raft is Huck Finn, playing BINGO and crossing numbers off with a big marker. You jump over him and make your way into the bath-

room where you see a nest of robins floating around on a mini plastic cruise ship in the bathtub, and two are dueling each other on the front deck, the ultimate foes. You turn around and open the medicine cabinet and pull out your mint floss, brand name Eliot with a capital “E”.

You finish flossing and leave the bathroom, continuing on the journey around your Memory Palace. This is the technique I used to prepare for an English literature exam where I had to remember the titles and associated authors of over ten novels.

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

by Mark Twain, Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe, and Mill on the Floss by George Eliot to name a few. Look back over the associations I used. See how it works? Let me explain.

The Method of Loci has been used by scholars and lay people alike since ancient Rome and Greece. Traditionally used by orators to remember long speeches and more contemporarily used as the top method of

memorization in memory competitions, this technique stimulates spatial and orienteering parts of the brain not usually used in basic memorization, thus increasing how much and how well you are able to remember things. When trying to conjure up facts or equations for an exam, instead of just bringing up the information spontaneously, do you ever instead imagine the piece of paper you were studying that had the information on it, or picture your prof’s voice as he reads off the lecture slides that contained the data you’re now being quizzed on? If so, you’re already using your spatial memory, and building your own Memory Palace is

only an extension of this idea. It is easier to conjure up ideas and memories when they are associated with something tangible and visual, and this is the basic premise of the Method of Loci. It is best to have your setting somewhere that you are very familiar with, your student house or childhood home, and build from there. Then you start to associate facts with items or places in your house - the more insane the association the better - and run over those images a few times, and you’ve got the basic premise.

When exam time comes around, you will most likely default to your usual method of studying and memorization, but

if you are feeling bold and want to give the Method of Loci a try, start out with some basic exercises. Pull out the phone book and spend some time each day memorizing random names and numbers by associating them with things around your Memory Palace. You will be able to recollect things easier and information will stay with you for longer periods of time. It might seem like a strange premise but if you use your brain like a muscle and exercise it, it can yield some amazing results.

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Beyond Downton Abbey: Strange Case Studies from History Evelyn Deshane With the success of the show Downton Abbey, everyone seems to be flocking to the good Victorian and Restoration novels, or at least, the movie adaption of them. Downton Abbey actually does a relatively good job portraying the well known difficulties of the time period (such as WWI), and the lesser known, more private issues (breast cancer, preeclampsia, and other medical issues that befell women). Here are a group of case studies that start in the 1700s and go right into the 1950s. These were picked now for their great contribution to society, but because they make some really interesting stories -- just like Downton.

Frances Burney (17521828): She made her living as a well known novelist, diarist, and playwright, but it is not her work there, or her famous friendships with Edmund Burke and others from the era, that we remember.

Instead, it is a letter she wrote to her sister Esther shortly after receiving a mastectomy, fully conscious, and without pain medication. During the procedure, she mentions in explicit detail

about being able to feel the surgeon’s knife scraping her breast bone. It is this famous passage that she has become known for, and that has been quoted endlessly, from Bill Bryson in At Home

many more years after the surgery.

William Banting (17961878): He was one of the first people to popularize the notion of dieting by limiting one’s intake of carbohydrates. His book “A Let-

Jenkins is the precursor to Snooki and especially Paris Hilton, where we only pay attention because we cannot look away to Steven Johnson in The Ghost Map. Without anesthesia at the time, alcohol and distraction was the only way to get through surgery. Doctors were often complimented on how fast they could perform an operation, not how accurate or the success of their patients after the fact. In this case, despite her harrowing ordeal, she survived to live many more years afterwards. Lucy Hurston, a missionary living in Hawaii, also has a similar story to Burney’s in 1855. She recounts her own surgery where “a deep sickness seized her” to her daughter, and describes the doctor’s arm covered with blood -- and yet again, the infamous breastbone scrape.

Hurston also managed to live for

ter on Corpulence, Addressed to The Public” took the form of an open letter that ignited the people to join him in his quest for thinness -- or at least, against girth.

Because of the success of the book, he became synonymous with the activity of dieting, causing people to refer to it as “banting” and commonly ask others, “do you bant?” Before him, Lord Byron is probably one of the better known dieters, having once survived on nothing but vinegar in an effort to lose weight.

Phineas Gage (18231860): Anyone who has taken Intro to Psych has heard of this infamous man, but he is worth mentioning again. Working on a railroad construction site one

day, a large iron bar was driven through the base his skull and emerged at the top. The incident destroyed much of his left frontal lobe, and despite the graveness of the incident, he survived. After Gage had been physically healed from his injury, his life changed dramatically. Rejected from his family because of his new sudden mood swings and aggressive behavior, he was considered irrevocably changed after the incident.

He lost his job and was forced to travel in a circus side show, often posing with the bar that had been taken from his head, and recounting the story of his survival.

Though the facts of his case have been cited in many academic papers, even a hundred year after the case, they sometimes argue for opposing viewpoint with relationship to neuropsychology and the mapping of the brain. Either way, Gage has earned a place in modern pop culture as well as pop psychology, even being named in songs by The Oval Portrait and Dan Linder.

Elizabeth Jane Cochrane (1864-1922): She is better known for her pen name “Nellie Bly”

which she wrote articles under for The World. She was one of the first stunt or gonzo journalists before Hunter S. Thompson or A.J. Jacobs decided that living with Hells Angels or reading the entire encyclopedia Britannica counted as a story. When everyone was swept away by Jules Verne’s text Around The World In Eighty Days, it was Nellie Bly who was actually sent out on that

mission to see if it was possible.

She managed the feat in 72 days, travelling mostly by train and not by hot air balloons, as it is commonly thought. She also faked insanity in order to cover a story about the abhorrent conditions of

the asylums during the time. Although she was declared a hopeless case right away by some doctors, she only stayed ten days in the asylum before getting enough information to write her story.

Florence Foster Jenkins (1868-1944): Going against popular ideology that you are only remembered if you’re good, Jenkins was popular and often remembered now because she was utterly terrible. She was an American operatic soprano, but was often mocked for her complete lack of singing ability. In spite of this, however, she would continue singing. She even sold out Carnegie hall a month before she died, and those tickets sold out weeks in advance. She used her inheritance from both parents to pursue her singing career, and often coupled her performance with elaborate costume changes. Her perseverance and eccentric way of viewing the world and her own success seems completely idiosyncratic, but really, she is quite possibly one of the earliest examples we have of a reality TV star with no discernible talent. She is the precursor to

Snooki and especially Paris Hilton, where we only pay attention because we cannot look away, and she allows us to keep looking. John Green, best selling YA author, has cited her work in his YouTube channel The Vlog Brothers, and has probably solidified her status as an underdog in youth culture for at least another few decades.

Ed Gein (1906-1984): He was an American murderer and body snatcher. Though he is only on record for having killed two people, it was his habit as a grave robber that is most well known. After being arrested for the murder of Bernice Worden, police found several disturbing items in his house, including bowls made from skulls, lampshades and chairs made from skin, four noses, and a belt made from nipples. He has been accused of necrophilia, transvestism, and homosexuality - none of which he actually admitted to. The transcripts for his interrogations are often full of leading questions from the police investigators, with Gein staying eerily silent or repeating back the questions to the officers. Gein is probably most well known for inspiring Thomas Harris’ depiction of Buffalo Bill in The Silence of The Lambs, in addition to Leatherface in Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Norman Bates in Psycho.

Napoleon wasn’t actually short. He was often depicted or painted as if he was a short man, mostly because it was an insult and the other side wanted to portray him badly.

The word “decimated” does not simply mean destroyed. Decem is the Latin for tenth, and when this term has been used in the past (x army was decimated), it means it was destroyed or removed by a tenth of its overall unit.

People used to think that disease was spread through bad smells.

Called the miasma theory of disease, it took a long time for people to eventually understand the idea of germs, bacteria, and viruses that could be ingested and not merely breathed in.

Thomas Edison should not be thought of as an inventor, but as someone who held the patent to many inventions. Nikola Tesla was really the genius of electricity of that age, but because he did not hold any patents, he was ignored. His alternating current (AC) electrical system can be seen in the background of old Frankenstein movies.

Bats with napalm attached to them, and dogs that were trained to approach enemy tanks were used as explosive devices during wars.

The Vatican is actually considered a country. In 1929, the Lateran Treaty was signed in order to establish the 109 acres as its own nation. It has its own currency (lira) and its own form of laws -- the canon laws that Catholicism follows. Pope St Celestine V was the first pope to establish canon laws for resignation in 1294.

During the Irish Potato Famine, there was still corn being exported.

Since it was a commodity item, however, and most Irish families depended on the farm economy that potatoes gave them, they could not afford to buy it. Even during one of the worst famines ever, the country was still making money from exports while its citizens died.

Because of the amount of Hunger Strikes that women went on during the suffragette movement, many of them were force-fed by police and other authority figures.

Evelyn Deshane On March 11th 2013, the author of the novel Refuse, Elliott DeLine, spoke at Trent University as part of the Graduate Department's ongoing colloquium series. The event was open to the public and was sponsored by the Public Texts program.

The goal of this colloquium series, which has included former Trent Graduates in its long list of speakers, is trying to isolate, study, and understand the ways in which certain groups of people form around texts. In addition, it attempts to approach the book (as a physical object) from a historical perspective and tries to understand the ways in which, as Marshal McLuhan has stated numerous items before, "the medium is the message." This basically means that there are a lot of fights about whether e-readers are destroying the sanctity of printed word and whether or not the internet is really good for us.

What this means in a larger scale, however, is that this graduate series can do more than muse about what the author really meant when they wrote their work. Elliott De-

Line is one of the best examples of how the book as an object and the audience that reads it has altered significantly in the past few years. Not only was Refuse selfpublished and marketed solely

by DeLine himself, but it deals with a fringe audience: transgender narratives. As he spoke about

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here was no such thing as Fifty Shades of Grey twenty years ago - let alone Refuse and Elliott DeLine.

in his interview for Absynthe in 2012, he sought to critique this narrative structure as a whole and add some well needed humour into the movement. He discussed his book, along with the complex ways in which transgender narratives fit into the media now (spoiler: it hasn't been good).

The idea of self-publishing probably still conjures up

horrible images of Fifty Shades of Grey and poorly edited vaguely coherent plots written by people with too much time (and ego) on their hands. But selfpublishing has probably gotten a bad rap over the years. Way back in the early 1980s and 1990s, it was known as 'vanity publishing' and was treated far more like a business than a personal project done for the hell of it, like scrapbooking on a Saturday night. In order for the press to accept your book, you had to accept paying for the upwards of 2,000 copies that they would print right away.

Afterwards, it was all up to you to sell them. More often than not, these became very expensive coasters and filled up storage sheds. Because of the high start-up costs and limited ways in which advertising could be achieved, more often than not these projects flopped. If anything was produced DIY method back then, it was through xeroxing and mailing lists. There was no such thing as Fifty Shades of Grey twenty years ago - let alone Refuse and Elliott DeLine.

Now self-publishing companies function as a print-on-demand business where bulk orders are not the requirement, but one of many options. DeLine used smashwords.com and lulu.com, while E.L. James used a company based in Australia before her epic tomes were snatched up by Random House. But there is no limit now with the many advances that online technology has offered us. Old systems of the 1700 and 1800s are back in vogue. Serialization made a comeback in the form of wattpad, where short stories or chapters can be released bit by bit, as Margaret Atwood's new poetry book has done. In addition, patronage is now in the new savvy form of Kickstarter, where Anita Sarkeesian has somehow managed to raise an exorbitant

amount of money to fund her series critiquing video games. If this can happens, anything seems possible.

Indeed, for DeLine, who wrote Refuse when he was twentytwo, it was only the first step. He has gone on to publish in the New York Times and had his short story accepted for the short fiction anthology The Collection earlier this year. None of this would not have been possible without social media, selfpublishing, a willing audience, and maybe a little bit of talent.

Short Story Submission:

Yumna Leghari

“I saw her beyond the hills. Just standing there, staring at the moon,” a young woman whispered.

“Oh? Well, it’s unkind to assume. Though – do not repeat this- I heard she converses with the trees,” Said the other, behind her lace glove. Their voices were filled with scandal and glee as they giggled. Siobhan was used to hearing such things about herself, and was indifferent. It was rare to hear it behind her back, in her own shop. The audacity of some people baffled her. The women came up to the counter and purchased some honey skin cream.

The wooden door bells clinked together as they walked out.

Regardless of what the women in this town said about her, they could not keep their eyes from pouring greedily over her stocked shelves. Creemore was a small village, it was like one large extended family. Siobhan wasn’t part of it, she was the intriguing pariah spoken of in hushed tones. Despite this, she heard the clinking of her doorbells continually throughout the

day. She had learned to use the Earth’s gifts from her mother. People had gossiped of her also, spreading falsities of witchcraft. Siobhan had heard herself referred to as a fairy, or an evil spirit-woman.

God fearing people sneered at her, and did not step into her shop. Siobhan had her own ideas about God, and cared little of what the town thought of her.

Siobhan sat on her rooftop, her bare feet were pale in the moonlight. She’d closed shop and went to her home upstairs. Creemore was sleeping.

She wondered why Moira had not come in this week. Wrapping the shawl she had around her thin shoulders tighter, Siobhan suddenly felt colder; a mist was rolling over the hills. Her dreams always filled with images after coming in from her nightly rooftop ritual. She would look out from her heights, and the beauty of Creemore humbled her. She felt as night moved in and broke twilight, that there was a secret correspondence occurring. She sensed the electric-

ity in her skin and felt it when the breeze moved through her red hair. She never talked about it, but her paintings spoke for her. Sketches, paintings, drawings; they were all over her shop, and crowded every room in her house. They were part of the reason people talked; strange creatures filled the frames. Faeries, misty apparitions and bright hills of various colours. Marvellous hues of flesh were stark against dark skies, women draped in gossamer, shining and dancing naked under the moonlight. They enchanted some, and disturbed others. ***

Sunlight filled the shop and the wood gleamed happily under jars, vials, and small pots filled with oils, plants and balms. Small glass fragments reflected light in Siobhan’s skirt and threw patterns onto the wall.

“Siobhan?” She hadn’t noticed someone come in.

Moira’s voice was soft in its

approach. Her hair was a shiny chestnut brown under her broad brim hat and her skirt tapered below the knees, then fell to the ground. She was beautiful.

“You weren’t here last week. I was worried. Didn’t your mother want her cream? Didn’t you want your tea?” Siobhan was confused. Moira came in every week because only her remedies seemed to ease the pain in her mother’s bones. If it were not for that, Moira would be forbidden from entering the shop. The upper class of Creemore feared a mark on their reputation, yet many still found a way to get their hands on her product.

“ I missed you,” Siobhan said.

“ I was busy. My family had prior engagements, I’m sure you understand?”

“No, not really,” Siobhan half smiled. She was unmarried and lived alone, which added to the scandal of her existence in Creemore.

“Did you see the moon last night? I thought of you. I had dreams, you were flying and you had these white wings...I painted you. ” She was uneasy.

“That was kind of you.

I need my tea, and I need her cream. I have to go, I’m in a hurry.” Her anxiety was confusing. She wore a neutral mask that Siobhan could not penetrate with her eyes.

Amanita Muscaria; it was the mushroom she used to create

her special tea. Siobhan used it herself when twilight was present and the moon was full.

She drank it in spiritual earnest.

Moira needed it to help her forget, and lull her to sleep. The substance had also developed a bond between the two women.

Sometimes she sensed Moira inside her head, even when she was across town sleeping on her soft egyptian cotton mattress.

“Here. Would you like some wine?” Siobhan handed Moira the small package, and took the money, which only payed for her mothers cream.

“I have to go, sorry.”

“Come see the painting at least?” Siobhan asked. Her insides were turning; Moira’s distance scared her. Moira followed Siobhan into the back room, her long hobble skirt ruffling stiffly on the floor.

Siobhan’s skirt flew around her as she walked, the lights still reflecting onto the walls.

The space was dusty, and held an ominous, quiet beauty. The smell of sandalwood filled their noses and the walls were covered with her work. Siobhan held up a frame hardly larger than her hand. Moira stood under the moon, in a shallow pool of water. Her skin was sparkling in the light. Frail, iridescent wings flowed down her bare back, into the water. Siobhan watched Moira’s face, and caught a brief smile that lit up her eyes.

“I knew you would like

it.” She sighed, and reached out, touching Moira’s cheek.

“I made it for you, take it with you. Just hide it, keep it under your pillow,” Siobhan said this as she took the painting from Moira and moved closer to her, placing both hands on her face.

“ Are you okay Moira?

Something is bothering you, I know this .” Moira’s mask had returned, but it did not conceal the flush that had warmed her cheeks. Her lips were wet, they were slightly parted and peachy pink against her white skin.

Siobhan traced them with her fingers, barely touching them.

“I have to go. I can’t stay today.”

Siobhan continued, now moving her hands down Moira’s arms.

“Siobhan, please. Not today, I need to leave,” Her voice was almost desperate.

“No you don’t,” Siobhan breathed into her neck. She felt Moira’s arms tense and let go, defeated.

“What, what’s wrong?

What did I do? Why did’t you come last week. Please Moira, please tell me” She was whimpering. Her mother had given left her with a strong heart but Moira made her feel weak and she hated it.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.

I need to go,” She started towards the shop, then stopped and turned towards Siobhan again. They looked at each other for a moment. Closer; Siobhan

could feel the warmth coming from Moira’s lips.. Hovering, then pressing; urgently relaying a message she could not decode in that moment, and then she was gone. ***

Weeks gone by and Moira was a shadow of the past.

Siobhan’s nights were filled with vivid pictures of Moira’s face. Her bright body sitting on the moon, then an eclipse of sudden darkness, and she would disappear. Siobhan eyes scanned over the village newspaper, she flipped lazily through the pages while sipping her morning tea.

The hot tea water was soon all over the counter and burned her hands but she did not feel it. She stared at the now soaked newspaper and it’s running ink.

‘The parents of Moira Flynn are proud to announce the engagement of their daughter to Mr. Brian Moore. We congratulate them on behalf of the people of Creemore and wish them the best of luck. May God bless them.’

The bells of her shop door made a hollow noise and a woman entered. She had dark hair peppered with grey. Her gait was elegant and her hat took up half of the shop.

“Hello, ma’am. I will be right with you, let me just clean up this mess, I apologize.” Her voice was shaky as she tried to gain composure and clear her

eyes of emerging tears.

“No need, darling,” the woman walked over, her eyes burning into Siobhan.

“I’ll only be a moment ma’-,” Siobhan’s face stung and her head cocked to one side. The woman had slapped her. Only now did she notice her hands had turned bright red from the hot water. She felt the sting of both the burn and the violent stranger’s hand.

“Stay away from Moira.

Do not utter her name, do not even think her name. You are the devil incarnate. You put a spell on my daughter, you bewitched her with your plants, with your potions. You disgusting, filthy ... sapphist. ” she hissed each word.

Siobhan saw spittle between her teeth as she spat words at her.

Siobhan looked into her eyes, and kept looking. She no longer heard the words because she was looking into Moira’s eyes.

Moira’s eyes after so long.

“Are you listening girl?

Do you hear me?”

“Moira,” Siobhan cried out, reaching for the woman’s face. The mother backed away disgustedly.

“Stay away, you will be run out of this town,” She threatened one last time. The shop was empty now, and the bells hit each other, making empty sounds. Siobhan stared at Moira’s face in the newspaper.

She was smiling. Siobhan tried to decipher the smile, to recognize the look in in her eyes but

there it was again; the mask.

She stared until the ink blurred and turned her face black, and all she could see was the obese man standing beside the black body of her Moira, grinning widely in his tailcoat jacket. ***

The fog hovered between the hills and enveloped her in it’s thickness. She walked naked along the hillside, her feet bare and damp on the grass.

Her mouth was full of a fresh, bitter taste that left her tongue tingling.The moon was dim and cast long shadows. Siobhan did not feel the cold as she placed her feet into the river. It rushed past her, urging her to move with it. She spread her arms and let go, letting her body move with the current. She was on her back and the sky watched her. Millions of tiny shining eyes shone down and she felt beautiful.

Moira’s wings were gone and sat on the moon and laughed.

“Swim Siobhan. Look!

You’re flying, you’re flying in the water and I’m just sitting. I’m just sitting here on the moon.”

Nate Rivers

Ash Ketchum: loveable underdog and all around feel-good dude. On the March 7th, after thirteen years, Ash’s Charizard will rejoin his merry band of Pocket Monsters and become a recurring character once more. The episode is all well and good but there is one thing that younger viewers won’t understand after this heartwarming reunion: Charizard was a huge dick. What’s more, Ash wasn’t ever a very good trainer. Please consider the following.

1) Ash didn’t even win half his badges in Leader fights. Of the first five badges, the only one he received legitimately was from Lt. Surge after he lost the first time. Often times the leaders took pity or Ash helped them somehow (he put out the Celadon fire). In the 8th gym, Giovanni peaces out somewhere, leaving Team Rocket to fight Ash and defend the gym. While technically acceptable, Ash and his friends defeated the loveable losers time and time again so often that it barely even counts.

2) Ash constantly lived in Gary’s shadow. Even at ten years old, Gary Oak had a convertible packed with cheerleaders—Ash

walked everywhere after somehow managing to break a young girl’s bicycle (Misty’s excuse for hanging around was that Ash owed her damages). What’s more, before the two rivals set out for the Pokemon League, Gary had somehow managed to obtain a total of ten gym badges (two more than normal. Even in the video games, Gary was always one step ahead of you.

3) Charizard, arguably Ash’s most powerful Pokemon, never listened to Ash. The new episode features flashbacks of Charizard’s original departure and puts a warm, friendly spin on the whole affair. Charizard’s lack of respect for Ash was what caused

him to crap out in his qualifiers at the Pokemon League. Charizard was crude, lazy and didn’t do anything Ash asked—new viewers will most likely not be aware of the strained relationship of the two.

In short, Ketchum was a pretty crappy trainer up until very recently, it’s important that we educate the younger generation today about the trials and tribulations faced by Ash and the gang.

With a new round of 3DS games on the way, now it is more important than ever to look to the past and remind ourselves that 1998 was fifteen years ago—Pokemon will never be the same

Evelyn Deshane

On November 1st, 2012, The Centre for Pixel Culture had their first official Critical Play Seminar at Sadlier House.

R. Travis Morton, an English MA at Trent University, was the first speaker of the event where he theorized diversely on the nature of video games. “Is nar-

W

a farmer with his hoe, for example), he applied this wide social theory to video games. The controller is that totemic object, and once touched, the player will enter into another world.

After the talk, which was about twenty minutes long, but generated over an hour of ques-

e go to the archetypes that Carl Jung has studied, in order to add some coherence and cohesion to an already overwhelming video game. rative a game?” he asked on one of his slides, and then went through cultural and anthropological history of social rites and rituals, in hopes of answering that question. From the discussion on how we play roles in our daily lives by donning specific clothing and holding specific, totemic objects (a doctor with his lab coat and stethoscope or

tions and answer period afterwards, a volunteer from the audience was given headphones and told to play a game. It was Skyrim: Elder Scrolls V -- one of the most engrossing video games that has come out the last few years.

Most of the hype from this game has been internet generated and has been spread through word

of mouth, in addition to winning the E3 Game Of The Year. Also known for it’s stunning graphics, Skyrim, as Morton describes it, “feels like an accompanying piece to The Game of Thrones.”

In the game, you start off as a prisoner Your hands are bound and you cannot break free. No amount of pressing buttons will help - a small warning merely flashes in the upper left hand corner ominously Your hands are bound. You have no idea why you are held captive, and never actually do find out what you have done to make yourself a prisoner.

You’re taken with a bunch of others on the back of a cart to a large courtyard in between old houses. You are forced off and made to stand up in front of a bunch of guards before the standard question is asked: who are you?

This is where the game, and the theorizing about the game got interesting, at least for Travis Morton. It was this part, where the member from the audience

now had to construct their video game identity, where Morton’s concept of performativity would be put to good use. “If what I think is right, he will try to form his video game self against prior hero archetypes that he recalls, and from there, his behaviour will be influenced,” he remarked and the rest of the audience watched as the player began the process.

There is an overwhelming amount of things to choose from when you play Skyrim. It starts with the obvious - the type of person you want to be (Elf, Nord, Redguard, Breton, Imperial, etc), then to the typical things like hair colour and eye colour, but the strange minutia of chin length and nose colour is also considered. In situations where we are faced with an abundance of options, the human mind tends to shut down in some ways and stick with what we know from our own cultural memory bank.

We go to the archetypes that Carl Jung has studied, in order to add some coherence and cohesion to an already overwhelming video game. Travis Morton’s MA specifically looks the types of heroes we see in video games - from the innocent hero to the trickster hero. He sees his research almost everywhere he goes, so it’s quite obvious that he would think the audience member would do what he had thought about for so long.

And did he? To a certain degree.

The avatar that the audience member ended up creating was similar to himself more than anything well-known, perhaps, and maybe if we had all stuck around

long enough to watch how far he got into the intoxicating world of Skryim, Morton’s theory would be proven further. It was more the thrill of playing the game than anything else for the member, and for those watching.

The Centre for Pixel Culture isn’t just looking at new games like Skyrim: Elder Scrolls V. It’s logo is the infamous controller from the first NES and one of its founding members, James Kerr, had never played Skyrim at all. (Dwayne Collins, the other founding member, was sympathetic with Travis about how Skyrim could really suck away weeks of your life). Games, like books and films, are texts that can be analyzed and theorized about --- in addition to played, and thought about nostalgically. To be honest, The Centre for Pixel Culture oozes nostalgia in certain areas. The over 85 NES and SNES games that are already in their collection makes anyone who was born in the eighties swoon. Simply talking about anything to do with Nintendo will insidiously make Mario theme music come back into your head again, as if it never even left.

But nostalgia aside, this is an archive first and foremost. Part of the Sadlier’s House Alternative Resource Library, these materials are here to be shared, studied, and during these Critical Play Seminars once a month, to be played critically. What exactly does playing critically look like?

Exactly what Travis Morton, his audience volunteer, and the rest of us did on Nov. 1st. We talked

about how we perform identity when we play games, how games affect our real life, and we noticed and commented on the conventions, both aesthetic and technical during the game itself. But we also did vent about how annoying it was when we got to the castle in Mario, only to find out that the princess wasn’t even there.

The last Critical Play Seminar of the year will be held on April 4th from 7-9pm given by one of the founding members on the history of The Fighting Game Genre. The topics already have ranged from gender in video games, critical tools used to understand the medium, and cultural landscapes and time periods. The collection is accepting donations for loan or purchase; contact Dwayne Collins for more information.

Ryan Knowles

Everyone wants to be loved. It’s a fact of life. Everybody wants to be important, to mean something, to someone else. This is in no way exclusive to sexual relationships or cross-gender relationships. In fact, the some of the most meaningful connection and interaction between people is that of a brotherhood or close friendship. I’m not saying that other relationships do not run deep in our collective unconscious, but what I am saying is that fraternal love and camaraderie always run deeper. It is a fact noticed by many, and professed by many. Though I am not in any way a religious guy, the Book of John phrases this sentiment in the simplest and thus most powerful way: “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends”. This kind of love, the love between brothers, has been lost on today’s society, and is either dismissed or understood as homosexual relationship. Do not take me for homophobic, but this kind of platonic relationship is not sex-

ual in any way; it comes from a prehistoric sense of fellowship.

When whatever crawled out of the primordial ooze decided it would be a good idea to work in groups, the first instance of brotherhood came into being.

Although the biological imperative was there first, our sense of communal brotherhood tran-

Lined with brotherhood and fraternal love. scends it in a way that is just as inexplicable as it is true. From that first instance of deciding to group up to the pack instincts of many mammals, the sense of fraternal fellowship has been rooted in our psyche, if only as a biological reaction to the fact that everyone who walked around by themselves got eaten. It is not until we decided that it was a good idea for our different groups of monkey to kill each other that our platonic brotherhood senses begin to transcend science.

Though there are no doubt many more instances of brothers in arms, I think the most understandable is that of the hoplites of ancient Greeks. As Leonidas explains in 300, in a phalanx, Greek soldiers would defend the man to their left, trusting the man to their right to defend them. Although shortly after this, Leonidas decides to break ranks and go for a kill-crazy slow motion romp through the Persian army, his lesson holds. The amount of trust required for a phalanx is incredible; you cannot think of your own defence, but must trust your brothers in arms to defend you.

Such a trust must without exception breed love. This love is not a love expressed sexually, but a love of trust and camaraderie, and the more they fight, the more the love shall grow. Though the phalanx really personifies the essence of fraternal love, it is similar for most other militaries, especially some of the newer wars. In more modern warfare, soldiers fight in small companies, subdivided into many fingers of the war machine’s hand. Be-

cause of this, companies, units, and battalions will often form similar bonds of fellowship, including one man who fought in the First World War, a fellow, by the name of J.R.R. Tolkien.

The stories that Tolkien created are lined with brotherhood and fraternal love. The most prominent example of this is of course The Lord of the Rings, specifically through the Hobbits. The Hobbits are midgets, short and fat and next to useless in most senses, unless drinking or smoking is involved. The thing that they do seem to have over their taller, more badass compatriots is their bonds of friendship that surpass mere friendship.

Brothers in everything but blood, the Hobbits show their worth through their close companionship. This is not to say that the other people of the Fellowship were blind to brotherhood. Ara-

gorn, Legolas, and Gimli pass through the entire saga, thick and thin, countless battles, because they are brothers in both arms and in their predicament. When Gimli says that the Fellowship is finished, Aragorn sums up the sentiment in a firm compliment of the Book of John: “Not if we hold true to each other”. But when the movies came out and destroyed anything else that came out during the same time, what was suggested by many viewers? The Hobbits are gay. Now, I’m not saying that there would be anything wrong with that, but it is not true; they aren’t. Such is the fate of the greatest bonds of friendship; it is reduced to unimportance or considered homosexual.

Now you may be wondering why I’m so adamant about this whole brotherhood thing, so I guess you deserve an explanation.

Before I graced Trent University

Did you know...

Before video games, Nintendo had tried its hand at a number of niche businesses such as manufacturing playing cards, taxi cab services and even opened a love-hotel

with my benevolent light, I went to St. Michael’s Choir School in downtown Toronto. Yeah, a choir school. An all-boys choir school.

You can rightly assume that we received a lot of flak for that, but it didn’t matter to us. Something about the school, whether it was the rigorous rehearsal schedule, the small class sizes, or the sense of teamwork and trust bred in the rehearsal rooms and concert halls, something bred the same sense of camaraderie and brotherhood that was brought to bear in the brave Greek phalanxes and the legendary company in the Fellowship of the Ring. I know that each of the people from my class of 13 would have my back, and I know they trust that I’d have theirs. This love surpasses any physical or biological imperative; greater love hath no man than this, that he may lay down his life for his friends.

John Smith

Made in 2012 by documentary film maker Alex Gibney, Mea Maxima Culpa: Silence In The House Of God gives a complex and rather devastating history of the sex crimes which have occurred at the hands of priests and how the Catholic system has been enabling the cover up.

The film does this by first striking the emotional chord of its viewers. A letter is read out by

The

House of God’ becomes quite literal, since all these men are deaf.

Father Lawrence Murphy was a hearing person, but he was fluent in sign language. During the time that he was headmaster at a school for the deaf, he committed his terrible crimes.

During the 1960s in Wisconsin, when the bulk of these crimes occurred, there was not a strong deaf community like there is now. Several of the men state

ultimate act of desperation— their 1970s attempt to buy an island to put the pedophile priests, rather than excommunicate anyone the narrator, which commands that one priest (Lawrence Murphy) should be excommunicated. It’s not until a few minutes later when we see the faces of the other men, including the letter writer, where the title of the film begins to have several meanings. ‘The Silence in The

that their family did not know sign language, and Father Murphy was the only way for them to communicate. There was no deaf telephone and for so many of the boys, the person who was abusing them was the only person in authority that could help.

Even when Father Murphy went

on holidays and another priest came in, informing him of the actions also did nothing. The act of confession also becomes eerie and suffocating in the film, especially when nothing is done with the knowledge of abuse. Even worse, one man also recounts how he was often targeted by Father Murphy while he was in the confession booth itself. The performance by these men as they were interviewed and rehashed their personal history in the film is harrowing. We are given narrators who do voice-overs as the survivors of the deaf school sign their stories; their facial expressions and gasps, however, seem to be magnified beyond the silence they were forced into.

The movie gets us with this emotional plight on a micro level, but it also delivers on the intricate history of this large cover-up. One of the more shocking things is that there is a rehabilitation centre for priests to go to, whenever they have violated their religious standings. These centres are not just for violent or sexual offenses; alcoholics and

drug addicted priests also go here. The pedophiles stand out, however, since they are one of the few cases that the centres are rarely able to rehabilitate.

Instead of being excommunicated, however, these priests were either kept in the rehabilitation centres longer, or sent to different parishes. If relocated, the abuse would start all over again.

The ultimate act of desperation that the Catholic Church committed was their 1970s attempt to buy an island to put the pedophile priests, rather than excommunicate anyone. Unfortunately, the island plan was shut down. And who knows, maybe it would have changed a lot.

This film is a must-see, especially now that Pope Benedict has resigned. Before his gig as the holiness and when he

was still Cardinal Ratzinger, he was the one that was in charge of all the sexual misconduct complaints about priests. Right now in the Vatican, there are millions of archives that have the details about each and every crime. He was the sole person with the knowledge to stop it, and yet, not much was done aside from moving priests away, paying off victims, and a foiled plan to buy an island. Because of the ways in which canon laws function and the treaty of 1929 which made the Vatican its own country, not many things will be done about these horrible crimes. One hope that the movie outlines is that enough crimes will be uncovered that the Vatican can be charged as a whole with crimes against humanity. It seems utterly ridiculous that it needs to go that far, but

when the film states that one of the first reported misconduct crimes between priests was on record as far back as 1200, then anything seems possible. Even Ireland, one of the most Catholic nations, has lost its faith in the Catholic administration (only 4% now apparently go to church).

Mea Maxima Culpa is from the Latin phrase that is often used in Catholic masses, which in English translates into “my most grievous fault or guilt.” It is an apt title for this documentary, and in spite of the chilling nature of the film, something that everyone should see.

Joel Vaughan

“If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” Isaac Newton penned the phrase, borrowed from giants before him, to describe the way intellectual pursuits compound upon one another throughout the ages. This is the basis of social, moral, and technological development – these giants, these heroes, are an essential component of the equation. However, it is important that one considers this system's inherent flaw: regarding progressive individuals of the past as “giants” shrouds them in an air of infallibility. Giants were human, and practical history often reveals them not to be giants at all.

This notion that our heroes might be terrible people stands in direct conflict with our tendency to define individuals either as good or bad. Aristotle was good. He was ambitious, ingenious, and we owe a great deal to his methods as a species – but he believed in superior races and held slaves. Albert Einstein

was amazing. He founded the theory of special relativity, revolutionized physics as we know it, and stands as a great leap for humankind – but he lead seven or eight extra-marital affairs, and cannot wash his hands of atomic weapons. These men are not exceptions to the rule. Over and over, one is frustrated to find

A single individual is capable of good, bad, and everything between. that the giants upon which we base our moral and technological understandings are human, an ethically complicated state.

It is here that our moral understanding of this life is called into question – can we label someone as universally Good or Bad? Can an overwhelmingly good deed overcome a miniscule bad one, or vice versa? Further-

more, are we as a society able to live with the prospect of building upon the shoulders of some unquestionably evil individuals? It sounds simple in theory, but consider the fact that data from Nazi experiments is still used in the progression of modern medicine.

It comes down to the unpleasant reality that humans are a mess of deeds, both good and bad.

Some say that “good people do bad things”, and others that “bad people are capable of good”, but the end result is usually the same: singular labels, though comforting, are an ineffective way of predicting future actions. A single individual is capable of good, bad, and everything between.

If this knowledge brings any sort of solace, it is this: everyone you've ever looked up to was just as flawed as you are.

Build upon them, and don't stop building when your seedy fallibility lets you down.

Drudging up the steps of what feels like a never ending hill, my roommate and I arrive at our destination and knock on the door. Shannon Goodhead opens the door in a bright blue evening gown and smiles at my roommate, then she gives me a disapproving

seaworthy articles, we all laugh off the wardrobe malfunction and I hit the gallery in style.

Just to the right of the foyer upon entering the house is the studio. In here are the majority of Uden’s work, and a landscape by Goodhead. Goblet of cheap Shiraz in hand, I crane neck around

“I invite the viewer to question the work and the world that influenced it.” - Shannon Goodhead once over and I quickly watch her smile twist into something not quite so amused.

Clearly, I am underdressed.

Already feeling like Nick Carraway at one of Gatsby’s parties, Benjamin Uden (the other artist in residence) ushers me into his bedroom and equips me with sufficient clothing for the event. With the world’s tightest dress shirt and a tie adorn with ship’s wheels and other

as I try to decipher the pieces line by line. After eventually giving up, I take a seat on the stool and just enjoy them. Pale hues of pink, blue and light orange are stenciled over with Dr. Seuss style structures. But there is a slight edge to the work, an isolation and loneliness that permeates the otherwise beautifully magical fantasies.

“You can even turn them” Uden smiles, sneaking up from behind me and proceeding to pull one of the wall, spin it and place it back

on the Velcro. “Creating things that don’t exist is a wonderful thing” he tells me. “Putting people in those unreal landscapes brings a feeling of both discomfort and belonging, much like the feeling of a vivid dream you know can’t be true.” After a brief chat, Uden returns to the party but I stay and look on a while longer. Beautiful crystalline castles jut out from all sides in each one of Uden’s cotton-candy nightmares. While fantastical and pretty to stare at, you can’t help but feel an unsettling edginess as well, like the setting sunlight glinting off the side of a knife.

Out in the main living room are much more politically charged pieces. Dull, grey visual-numeric depictions of wildlife and endangered species stab off the wall. Personally, I’ve never been one to concern myself with a breed of animal off the coast of an island I haven’t ever heard of—but when it’s staring you right in the face, with the numbers to boot, its hard not to get emotional. A steep staircase of numbers makes it pretty

evident that there is an agenda throwing its weight at you—it’s overt and extremely effective.

The wall is lined with these kinds of pieces. Further off to the side is a larger one, a dull orange with a large red circle, dripping down onto a bright green. To others it might seem abstract but to me it screams ‘Katimavik’: a program in which youth participants gain the opportunity to travel and work.

While it might sound like voluntourism (you may have seen an argument against it crudely drawn up in the Bata 2nd floor men’s lavatory), having known people that worked in the program, it offers near invaluable life experience that is anything but vampiristic. The combination of political and landscape show-

case both Goodhead’s passion for her craft, but also her environment. “I invite the viewer to question the work and the world that influenced it.” It’s a simple, but profoundly important statement in a day and age

where I’m sending a tweet every thirty minutes or so. Whether it’s Uden’s boundless, ballooning, never-ending landscapes or Goodhead’s powerful political battlegrounds, one thing remains clear: art is never finished.

Discover Peterbor ough this Sum mer... ! y t i c r ou

y w o n k Get to

Jen Freele

As we get nearer and nearer to that final closing of the books for this academic year, many students are beginning to shift their thoughts to the summer and how to occupy the four months of break that are just beyond our grasp. Some of us will head home to work and spend some time with our families, and some will take off on an awesome adventure and fill the summer with traveling and new experiences. But then some of us will be trying to hack it here in Peterborough, and will suddenly have hours upon hours, and weeks upon weeks of free time to spend discovering a city that can expose you to just as much comfort or adventure as you like. Here is a quick overview to some things Peterborough has to offer in the sunniest of seasons.

If music is your dish, then there are numerous venues around the city that are worth your while to check out. The Gordon Best Theatre, Showplace Theatre, The Spill, The Red Dog, The Montreal House, The Venue and Market Hall are all unique spaces where local, national, and international musicians flock to. Keep your

eyes out for posters around the city for upcoming shows; there are shows practically every day, depending on where you look, and they tend to be fairly affordable for those struggling without OSAP for the four months off. Music festivals are another trademark of the summer, and there are some pretty decent ones for you to spread a blanket out and enjoy a beer to in this fair city. Little LakeMusic Fest, that begins June 29th and has performers all the way until August 24th, has an expansive line-up including Fefe Dobson ( does anyone actually remember her?!?!), Walk off the Earth, and country’s super star Deric Ruttan. Just outside the city, in the good ol’ town of Havelock, the famous Country Jamboree will be taking place August 15-18. So shine up your cowboy boots and stock up on red solo cups because this festival is boasting some pretty impressive performers such as the one and only Reba McEntire, Travis Tritt, Wynonna & The Big Noise and songstress Tara Oram! So, update your iPod with some classics of these performers and get ready to sing your summer away.

As Trent students, our bus pass is now valid all throughout the spring and summer, so take advantage and explore all around the city. Need some fresh food after a winter of canned and frozen delicacies? The Peterborough Farmer’s Market runs each and every Saturday from 7AM to 1PM in Morrow Park (the corner of Lansdowne and George Street), and has everything from chocolate scones to fresh fruits and vegetables - even handmade pasta and cider are available for your enjoyment. You’ll be helping to support local businesses and farmers, but you’ll also be getting better quality produce and food. Head on over to other local hot spots in our city that you may not have had the chance to visit yet - East City, the Canoe Museum, the Lift Locks, the Art Gallery, are some suggestions of where to start.

Use your break and take advantage of the gorgeous weather during the summer. Hop on your bike and take the trail all the way to Lindsay. Pack a lunch; it’s a long ride. Go to the beach at Beavermead Park, or even pitch a tent for the

weekend. Go star-gazing in Jackson’s Park on a clear night. Re-discover the Peterborough Zoo and see the otters getting fed right after a quick jaunt through the splash pad. Hike the nature trails on Trent property (if you want to return to campus before absolutely necessary). Walk the downtown path along the Otonabee and tiptoe across the railroad tracks. Take advantage of the public library to borrow out movies for free for a cheap date night in. There are so many different opportunities around every street corner if you just get outside to look around.

Peterborough in the summer is home to many friendly and interesting people that you may have skipped over while you had your nose in a book throughout the school year. Now that your head’s up, take the time to look around. Go to new bars (the Only has an awesome patio), and speak to new people. The summer will be what you make of it, so make it a good one.

Ryan Knowles There shouldn’t be a single person over four years of age who hasn’t felt the sting of defeat in chess at the hands of an older sibling. Chess has been a part of western society ever since the Middle Ages, and though it is losing ground to the wonders of technology, it is a testament to how good the game is that it has survived this long. Most people, even not having played the game, should at least know the pieces: rooks, pawns, knights, bishops, kings, and queens. All of them

throwaway piece. The pawn is slow, moving one space at a time, can only move forward, and can only attack diagonally. The most significant things about a pawn are that there are many of them and should they reach the other end of the board, they can become whatever other piece the player wants them to be. “So what do the pawns symbolise?” asked the masses of attentive readers. Well, I’ll tell you. The pawns symbolise the regular, average soldier. Back in those days,

Many nobles and lords were swayed to do

certain things, such as stop murdering the French and start murdering the Saracens move differently, but why designate each one to their movement? Why do knights move in an L pattern? Why are kings so useless? Through speculation of the world’s leading finding-outabout-useless-information-noone-ever-needs-to-know experts, namely me, we are now able to shed light upon the reasons for dedicating each piece to its station.

The first piece to be analysed should of course be the pawn, everyone’s most important

when a battle was fought, the infantry would be in line in front of all the gentry and valuable things.

They would form shield walls opposite each other, and would slowly work their way forward.

Now, each spearman in the shield wall, or pawn in the front rank of the chess pieces, would defend those beside them, thus only attacking diagonally. There were also rare times when, should a regular soldier accomplish a great feat or win a great battle, he

would be granted a title or station or a bit of land to lord over. This is why the pawn that makes it to the other side of the board can become one of the better pieces.

The number one piece taker, at least whenever I play chess, is the knight. Nobody sees the sneaky bastard until they’ve taken their hand off whatever piece is now in its range, and by then it’s too late. Another characteristic of the knight which makes it all the more annoying is its ability to jump through pieces to get to its target. If asked what a knight symbolises, the proper response is to plant the palm of your hand over your brow and bow your head in pity for the shame that the questioner has just incurred, so I will save people the effort and say that the knight represents a knight. That is obvious, as are the rest of the pieces.

What isn’t as obvious is why the knight moves and can move as it does. This is because, in archaic warfare, cavalry was used to attack the sides or backs of the enemy armies, so as to catch the enemy’s infantry between two forces. Cavalry could also be used for scouting, which is why they can pass through other

units to get to their destination.

The biggest targets on the board, other than the king and queen, would have to be the rooks, also called castles in some cases. They don’t mess around with diagonals or L’s; they go straight, and have caused more checkmates than any other piece in the game, save for the queen.

The rook obviously represents a castle. “But wait,” cries the masses of readers with rapt awe, “Castles can’t move!” Thank you for your concern, readers, but I am well aware that castles do not move. That being said, when one nation would build a castle on the territory of another, it was a bold and straightforward declaration of war. A well placed castle could seriously screw over a king or ruler. The English used castles to keep Scotland in line, and for the most part, besides when Mel Gibson found a time machine once, it worked to cripple Scotland’s armies and keep the English in control.

The weirdest pieces to see on the board are the bishops.

Why the hell would bishops be on a board where the whole point is to re-enact a pitched battle, with a little regicide being the ultimate goal? The bishops can only attack diagonally, but that still doesn’t seem to justify their existence on the board. Although there are recorded instances of bishops actually joining in the fight, such as the English bishop who fought in the battle of Crécy, but that was just one bishop in one instance. Truly I tell you, the only true way to fit the bish-

op into the chess game is if the game isn’t only about war, but also about politics. If we see it that way, then the bishop finally seems to fit in properly. In the old days, the kings of Western Europe were appointed not only

Why then is he so damn useless in the game? by blood, but because they were considered the embodiment of God’s will on earth. Because of this, many nobles and lords were swayed to do certain things, such as stop murdering the French and start murdering the Saracens.

This is why the bishops move diagonally on the board; they do not take up arms and fight battles physically, but they creep in on the sidelines and take out people through religious persuasion.

That leaves the king and queen, pieces which almost everyone would agree should have their movement styles switched.

Once again, I have good answers for why both move as they do.

As we all know, especially to beginners in chess, the queen is one of the most valuable pieces, whose sole purpose seems to be taking out the king. The reason the queen is so dangerous may be because of how wary kings had to be of foreign queens and princesses. It wasn’t because of their martial prowess, as at the time women didn’t fight, but it was more of the threat they posed politically. Should a queen or princess marry a noble of an-

other nation, the woman’s nation could potentially gain that territory, hampering their enemy greatly. That is why the queen is so dangerous; she can take away an entire county or territory if she bats her eye the right way.

This still leaves us with the king, who is one of the most useless pieces on the board. Back in the Middle Ages, a king would ride forth with his armies and lead them to victory and glory.

Why then is he so damn useless in the game? When I first started writing this I had no idea myself, but I think I’ve figured it out. The game of chess was invented by the nobles and gentry of old to instruct their sons and future lords on strategy and the art of war.

The uselessness of the king may be in part because the point of the game was to make sure you did not lose the king, which one day would be the person playing the game. The king on the board was used to show whoever was learning that a king should never make themselves open in a battle, as it could cost them their soldiers’ lives as well as their own. Chess was basically instructing future kings not to think themselves invincible or impervious to harm, but rather to think of themselves as fragile, precious, and necessary to the army. I just wonder how many frustrated princelings decided that an ‘earthquake’ was in order after getting the symbol of their royal asses handed to them by their tutors.

Aries

Those weird sex dreams you’ve been having about your Professors are getting a little out of hand. Everybody knows that peanut butter and tomato paste are best in the pantry, not in your pants.

(Mar 21 - Apr 19)

Apr 20 - May 20) Remember that (May 21 - Jun 21) Beer, and lots of Taurus(time that you sang that awesome Geminiit! The next few weeks will have song about all of your wordly treasures and then you met the man of your dreams? Oh wait, that was The Little Mermaid. Never mind. No man of your dreams for you. You’ll be single forever.

an intoxicating effect on you. Don’t worry about any of your responsibilities - just drink your face off! There won’t be any negatives to that...

(June 22- July 22) This is your time to shine! Everyone loves you, nobody hates

Canceryou. You’re going to kill every final you write and you’ll walk away feeling like a champion. Give yourself a pat on the back.

Jul 23 - Aug 22) Spring is here and it’s time to get Twitterpated! Crank up Leo (some Spice Girls tunes, get your hair did and spend the summer drinking

your way to happiness!

(Aug 22 - Sep 22) That person you slept with the other night that you met at the bar might have passed something on to you. Like a baby. Or an STD. Better get that checked out...

Virgo

Librain need of some cash doesn’t mean

(Sep 23 - Oct 22) Just because you’re

you shoud start posting yourself on Craigs List.

Get a job. Or a sugar daddy.

(Nov 22 - Dec 21) Sum23 - Nov 21) Exams are Sagittarius Scorpio(Oct mer is finally here! You here! Don’t worry there’s no

pressure.... except the pressure of doing well. You should probably get drunk before every final. See how that works for you.

just need to get through those pesky exams.

Lock yourself away without the distractions.

No more porn pillow talk for you, my friend.

Dec 22 - Jan 19) You’re going to fail every single final that is placed in Capricorn (front of you. You should probably not even show up... just stay at home,

wrapped in your snuggie watching re-runs of Friends and shovelling ice cream into your mouth.

It’s okay... go ahead... eat your feelings.

Jan 20 - Feb 18) Remem(Feb 19 - Mar 20) On exam Aquarius (ber that awkward mo- Pisces days stay away from spicy

ment when you tried to hook up with that chick and she just pointed and laughed?

Ooops. It’s okay... I’m sure that happens to other guys all the time!

foods. Nobody needs the exam room to become a gas chamber. Stick to bread and butter that day for the sake of everybody else.

A girl washing her feet in the bathroom sink in bata... ummmmmm… #TrentUProblems via @ch3ll3y_00

THERE ARE MEN HERE TO FINALLY CLEAN THE BATA WINDOWS! #TRENTUPRO via @victoriakchow

A three hour, 7pm exam on a saturday. really, trent. really? #TrentUProblems via @emilyhunt8 Is it weird that I’m not even bothered by the sewer smell in Wenjack anymore? #usedtoit #TrentUProblems via @morgiemuffin

I’m not sure how I feel about driving around in a bus with “SPECIAL” big and bold across the top.... #TrentUProblems via @johannallama Just passed by a girl in the hall talking about her UTI problems #nursingstudents #TrentUProblems via @carymcgrath17

Benjamin Uden