Along the gleaming rails of steel
The light shines off and away
Off to the mist lying over the hill
Where the road turns away and around
Around the ridge and into the veil
Of the fog sleeping close to the ground
From here in this city
Where the lights all shine up
Up to the clouds and the winds
From here in this city
There is only the sight
Of the rails running off to the north
Away in the valley
Where the houses are dark
and the hearts beat softer
Away in the valley
there once was a girl
whose heart longed for me, but no longer
For here in this city
Where the buildings are cold
and their arms block out the stars
For here in this city
I think I've grown old
Now my soul is too tired to wander
Out there in the valley
does a candle still burn
Alone in a window at night
Out there in the valley
do they still know my name
Or am I the one they've forgotten
It's here in this city
My heart made its stand
pitting pride against love
It's here in this city
My bones turned to sand
Wishing only my love had been stronger
Away in the valley
The valley so dark
her heart beat once for me
Away to the valley
I'll ride the last train
No candle in the window
No light from the door
Alone in the fog, but at home.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Bitches, Bernoulli and a Tribute to the Cobras
This week I've been locked away studying in the library for River Basin Management...when I'm not watching Boondocks that is. The combination of the two has lead to a great deal of learning on my part. Some of which will be imparted here.
If in doubt what to say to a girl, remember, "Bitches love smiley faces."
If wondering whether the girl you met at the bar is interested in you, just a free drink, or maybe just sees you as a piece of meat, "Only like, 25, maybe 40 percent of women are hoes. Naw'm sayin? I mean, if we go out, and I pay, it's like, I'm payin, dat makes her a ho." "But that's just considered common etiquette." "But I'm payin, therefore she's a ho."
Why is the modern man so effeminate? "All men have a phobia, some can't cross a bridge, some are afraid to go upside a bitches head."
Also, when your professor tells you the best way to do something is to perform multiple iterations to calculate a value, when you know what the final threshold is, you could, you know, start with the final parameter and backsolve through the two equations with only one unknown each to find the original value. Did it get the same value? Yes. Did it take half as long? Yes. BAM!
So, yeah, explanation of Bluetooth headsets. "Dude you look stupid in that headset, only thing you gonna use it for is call a bitch, and unless that bitch be martian there ain't no need for a phone looks like that."
Other than that things are going well, 1 exam down, another one on friday, feel confident of both. Sadly Cardiff folded like an origami expert to Reading, meaning the last hope for a Welsh team to move up to the Premiers is Swansea, it's like getting kicked in the groin to get on national television, kind of messed up.
Watched Alchemy last night, flick about a guy creating an AI that passes the Turing test so well that they run an experiment to see if it could make a girl fall in love with it. Geeky Romantic Comedy...granted the director/producers idea of geeks is, they like labs right? Let's put the guy in a lab. They got his title right, he's in computer science...so why's he set up in a chemistry lab? Do they just think science labs need sciency things, let's put some beakers and funnels and test tubes on the wall. Except they're chem lab tables. Oh, and his fancy computer equipment, since you know, he's brilliant and this is a complex computer machine, let's tack an ordinary desktop, attach some bright lights, and then stick lots of other gadgets around it to make it look complex. So they toss in an Ohmeter, digital ampmeter, analog frequency modulater/reader (okay, so I may not know what they're called, but I used them in circuits labs).
Well, not quite in the mood to continue transcribing the epic of Easter, so we'll leave that for later.
No lie, I miss football. After the oldboys game on Saturday I was pretty sore and tired, but the awards ceremony was ledge, classic banter sessions, including sarcastic awards and photoshoots. These boys are like family, I reckon that's what happens when you spend hours in rain and ice battering some of your mates, doing your best to knock them down, and other times you lay yourself on the line to protect one of them. And it ain't cause you're getting money, or fame. It's cause that's what you do, and cause you know if the roles were reversed they'd lay themselves on the line for you. That's the principle of football here in Wales. No stopping, no quitting, no letting go until your boys are on top and safe, you hit first, you hit harder, and if they play dirty you hit them when they ain't lookin. When it's done you can chew the fat, banter, take the piss, cause everyone knows when the chips are down a Cobra is never alone.
It's summer now, the grass is green, the weather is usually warm and the sun usually shines (it is Wales after all), and when the weather is this nice the thought of winter is far away. The whipping winds and driving rain are a vague memory lurking in the back of your mind. The warm sunday nights in a pub with all your best mates nothing but a fond dream. And while we may all disperse for these glorious days of sunshine and freedom, it's a sure bet that when the leaves turn gold again, that field by the river will once again be torn by the pounding of football boots, the silent chill nights split from moon to trees by the defensive calls and adjustments. As autumn turns into winter, blue skies into rain clouds, the helmets will crack, the voices will go hoarse, and once again we will stand shoulder to shoulder, in body or in spirit. Cheers boys.
-JK
If in doubt what to say to a girl, remember, "Bitches love smiley faces."
If wondering whether the girl you met at the bar is interested in you, just a free drink, or maybe just sees you as a piece of meat, "Only like, 25, maybe 40 percent of women are hoes. Naw'm sayin? I mean, if we go out, and I pay, it's like, I'm payin, dat makes her a ho." "But that's just considered common etiquette." "But I'm payin, therefore she's a ho."
Why is the modern man so effeminate? "All men have a phobia, some can't cross a bridge, some are afraid to go upside a bitches head."
Also, when your professor tells you the best way to do something is to perform multiple iterations to calculate a value, when you know what the final threshold is, you could, you know, start with the final parameter and backsolve through the two equations with only one unknown each to find the original value. Did it get the same value? Yes. Did it take half as long? Yes. BAM!
So, yeah, explanation of Bluetooth headsets. "Dude you look stupid in that headset, only thing you gonna use it for is call a bitch, and unless that bitch be martian there ain't no need for a phone looks like that."
Other than that things are going well, 1 exam down, another one on friday, feel confident of both. Sadly Cardiff folded like an origami expert to Reading, meaning the last hope for a Welsh team to move up to the Premiers is Swansea, it's like getting kicked in the groin to get on national television, kind of messed up.
Watched Alchemy last night, flick about a guy creating an AI that passes the Turing test so well that they run an experiment to see if it could make a girl fall in love with it. Geeky Romantic Comedy...granted the director/producers idea of geeks is, they like labs right? Let's put the guy in a lab. They got his title right, he's in computer science...so why's he set up in a chemistry lab? Do they just think science labs need sciency things, let's put some beakers and funnels and test tubes on the wall. Except they're chem lab tables. Oh, and his fancy computer equipment, since you know, he's brilliant and this is a complex computer machine, let's tack an ordinary desktop, attach some bright lights, and then stick lots of other gadgets around it to make it look complex. So they toss in an Ohmeter, digital ampmeter, analog frequency modulater/reader (okay, so I may not know what they're called, but I used them in circuits labs).
Well, not quite in the mood to continue transcribing the epic of Easter, so we'll leave that for later.
No lie, I miss football. After the oldboys game on Saturday I was pretty sore and tired, but the awards ceremony was ledge, classic banter sessions, including sarcastic awards and photoshoots. These boys are like family, I reckon that's what happens when you spend hours in rain and ice battering some of your mates, doing your best to knock them down, and other times you lay yourself on the line to protect one of them. And it ain't cause you're getting money, or fame. It's cause that's what you do, and cause you know if the roles were reversed they'd lay themselves on the line for you. That's the principle of football here in Wales. No stopping, no quitting, no letting go until your boys are on top and safe, you hit first, you hit harder, and if they play dirty you hit them when they ain't lookin. When it's done you can chew the fat, banter, take the piss, cause everyone knows when the chips are down a Cobra is never alone.
It's summer now, the grass is green, the weather is usually warm and the sun usually shines (it is Wales after all), and when the weather is this nice the thought of winter is far away. The whipping winds and driving rain are a vague memory lurking in the back of your mind. The warm sunday nights in a pub with all your best mates nothing but a fond dream. And while we may all disperse for these glorious days of sunshine and freedom, it's a sure bet that when the leaves turn gold again, that field by the river will once again be torn by the pounding of football boots, the silent chill nights split from moon to trees by the defensive calls and adjustments. As autumn turns into winter, blue skies into rain clouds, the helmets will crack, the voices will go hoarse, and once again we will stand shoulder to shoulder, in body or in spirit. Cheers boys.
-JK
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Tenby and Caldey Island
Righto, presentation rocked, projects handed in, free time before exams, let's write some stories. Returning to the beginning of our adventures, herein will be set forth an account of our trip to Southwest Wales, specifically the seaside town of Tenby. Early morning train journeys, winding along the southern fields, ending up in Swansea (*spits). I had to take an extra shower that night just to wash off the stink. And yes dear reader, I flipped on the Jack Bastard's stadium, and all the houses with the dirty black and white flags of those low down scoundrels. Might as well have been the White hand of Saruman on the black fields of Mordor. I've been told that "Swansea isn't that bad, it's got a nice beach and the people are nice." I guess for the car theft capital of Europe it's got to have some positive points...at least it was until the Jack's realized that being on the Dole meant they could lay at home and not even have to steal cars to raise the legions of illegitimate children sired in that cesspool by the sea. On the other hand they do have the Gower, which I hear is quite nice.
All I know is that at Gowerton station and American clan on holiday boarded, led by the proudly international but still sporting her metallic New Jersey accent wife of a local (well, not really local, he's an Englishman). She talked incessantly about life in the UK, giving worse than tourist grade information to a gaggle of her relatives. The children squabbling over who gets the window seat, the mothers pointing at the castle ruins. My favorite was the Jersey broad's lecture on what an estuary is, granted, she did know it involved water, but that was about as close as she came.
Eventually we arrived in Tenby, David and I made a beeline for the docks to catch a boat out to Caldey, an island just off the coast that had a Monastery on it. Out on the island we did a bit of the tourist shtick ourselves, walking all around it, visiting the old chapel, the cliffs on the outer shore, the fudge store (yeah, Monks make good sweets) and finally dragging our weary selves back to the dock for a boat back to Tenby.
Back in town we had some time to kill before the train back to the promised land of Cardiff, so we hit up a pub for some food and a pint after a long day of walking in the sun. We grabbed a window seat so's we could watch the street and the people while we relaxed in the cool interior of the pub. In both directions as far as one could see, about a block and a half, the houses were all painted bright shades of blue and green and pink, glowing in the evening sun. Along the street walked one of the most singular parties I believe I've ever seen. A lad walking with his girlfriend hand in hand along the cobblestone. Attached to the girlfriends other hand was a younger child of around 10-12, a little brother. You're thinking, aww, she brought her little brother on their date. But the boyfriend was also escorting a younger sibling, a sister who appeared to be around 15, and was wheelchair bound. Had either member of this couple been American, or at least the American you're likely to find in a seaside town, I can't imagine them bringing younger siblings, much less one that requires constant assistance getting around, but this was one of the most happy troupes we had seen all day, nothing but smiles and affection. From the comfort of my leather couch and cold pint, I remember thinking, these two are gonna make it. I sure hope they do.
All I know is that at Gowerton station and American clan on holiday boarded, led by the proudly international but still sporting her metallic New Jersey accent wife of a local (well, not really local, he's an Englishman). She talked incessantly about life in the UK, giving worse than tourist grade information to a gaggle of her relatives. The children squabbling over who gets the window seat, the mothers pointing at the castle ruins. My favorite was the Jersey broad's lecture on what an estuary is, granted, she did know it involved water, but that was about as close as she came.
Eventually we arrived in Tenby, David and I made a beeline for the docks to catch a boat out to Caldey, an island just off the coast that had a Monastery on it. Out on the island we did a bit of the tourist shtick ourselves, walking all around it, visiting the old chapel, the cliffs on the outer shore, the fudge store (yeah, Monks make good sweets) and finally dragging our weary selves back to the dock for a boat back to Tenby.
Back in town we had some time to kill before the train back to the promised land of Cardiff, so we hit up a pub for some food and a pint after a long day of walking in the sun. We grabbed a window seat so's we could watch the street and the people while we relaxed in the cool interior of the pub. In both directions as far as one could see, about a block and a half, the houses were all painted bright shades of blue and green and pink, glowing in the evening sun. Along the street walked one of the most singular parties I believe I've ever seen. A lad walking with his girlfriend hand in hand along the cobblestone. Attached to the girlfriends other hand was a younger child of around 10-12, a little brother. You're thinking, aww, she brought her little brother on their date. But the boyfriend was also escorting a younger sibling, a sister who appeared to be around 15, and was wheelchair bound. Had either member of this couple been American, or at least the American you're likely to find in a seaside town, I can't imagine them bringing younger siblings, much less one that requires constant assistance getting around, but this was one of the most happy troupes we had seen all day, nothing but smiles and affection. From the comfort of my leather couch and cold pint, I remember thinking, these two are gonna make it. I sure hope they do.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Geek time
So, aight, it's revision week, which means I'm spending a lot less time contemplating the meanings of life and deep things and far more time reading journal publications that are so far above my head that the only appropriate units to describe the distance are measured in AU. So, any way, some of the things going on lately. Completed my case study, or at least significant completion, provided I don't wanna take the novel and totally impossibly geeky route of trying to prove self supporting characteristics of a cylindrical lattice structure at nano-scale level. Or instead I could do what I'm good at and focus on coding. Yeah, leaning towards that.
So, anyway, it's geek time. LoTR III, Frodo is having trouble carrying the ring, it grow's heavier and heavier the closer they get to their destination. They signify this by showing the chain chafing around Frodo's neck, and of course the obvious statements by Frodo, "The ring is so heavy, I cannot stand, I cannot bear it." The ring bears a supernatural weight, as is signified early in the films when the ring drops to the floor, instead of bouncing and emitting a ping as would a normal ring, there is a heavy thud and it does not bounce. Obviously the ring has a higher than normal density, leading one to believe it is not a standard gold alloy. So, here's the things we know, the ring is not normal, it is heavier than normal, its weight becomes so great on the slopes of Mt. Doom that Frodo is borne to the ground and is literally unable to go on.
Now, the Ring has a great influence over the bearer, only Frodo can carry it and resist the evil the ring holds. All other people becoming instantly corrupted by it, this is shown in the tower when Sam has trouble returning the ring to Frodo after he rescues him from the orcs. So, the ring is evil and nobody but Frodo can carry it, however, the weight becomes so great that Frodo is unable to carry it. Once he falls, Sam gives an inspirational speech, then, still unable to get Frodo moving, since he had no tail to twist, Samwise the Brave picks up Frodo, and begins trekking up the slope.
The problem with this is that Frodo is still wearing the ring, so Sam has just picked up the ring, which is so heavy that Frodo is unable to stand with it, and Frodo along with it. Samwise just slung a person and something that's massively too heavy for a person over his shoulder. Compounding weights, not to mention that the ring is now a point load, displaced off of Sam's center, so it's adding weight and also generating a pretty significant moment that would throw Sam's center of balance off, so he'd end up toppling backwards, or at the very least wrenching a vertebrae. Since none of these things happen we can only assume that Sam is actually essentially the Strongman champion of the Shire. Leading me to a new question, why didn't they just have Samwise throw the ring from Rivendell, Hobbits have exceptional aim for throwing, and obviously Sam could make the distance.
How 'bout them apples?
So, anyway, it's geek time. LoTR III, Frodo is having trouble carrying the ring, it grow's heavier and heavier the closer they get to their destination. They signify this by showing the chain chafing around Frodo's neck, and of course the obvious statements by Frodo, "The ring is so heavy, I cannot stand, I cannot bear it." The ring bears a supernatural weight, as is signified early in the films when the ring drops to the floor, instead of bouncing and emitting a ping as would a normal ring, there is a heavy thud and it does not bounce. Obviously the ring has a higher than normal density, leading one to believe it is not a standard gold alloy. So, here's the things we know, the ring is not normal, it is heavier than normal, its weight becomes so great on the slopes of Mt. Doom that Frodo is borne to the ground and is literally unable to go on.
Now, the Ring has a great influence over the bearer, only Frodo can carry it and resist the evil the ring holds. All other people becoming instantly corrupted by it, this is shown in the tower when Sam has trouble returning the ring to Frodo after he rescues him from the orcs. So, the ring is evil and nobody but Frodo can carry it, however, the weight becomes so great that Frodo is unable to carry it. Once he falls, Sam gives an inspirational speech, then, still unable to get Frodo moving, since he had no tail to twist, Samwise the Brave picks up Frodo, and begins trekking up the slope.
The problem with this is that Frodo is still wearing the ring, so Sam has just picked up the ring, which is so heavy that Frodo is unable to stand with it, and Frodo along with it. Samwise just slung a person and something that's massively too heavy for a person over his shoulder. Compounding weights, not to mention that the ring is now a point load, displaced off of Sam's center, so it's adding weight and also generating a pretty significant moment that would throw Sam's center of balance off, so he'd end up toppling backwards, or at the very least wrenching a vertebrae. Since none of these things happen we can only assume that Sam is actually essentially the Strongman champion of the Shire. Leading me to a new question, why didn't they just have Samwise throw the ring from Rivendell, Hobbits have exceptional aim for throwing, and obviously Sam could make the distance.
How 'bout them apples?
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Easter Holidays
This shall be a Chronicle of our doings far and wide this past two weeks. I apologize for not writing sooner, but having had no means of internet access, I feel justified, it was not through laziness. I did take many photographs, and many of them have stories of their own that I will write in due time. But until then we must try to sort through the tales in a fashion that will do them justice, whether this be chronologically, or simply as they return to me we shall see.
Over mountains capped with snow
Across the lochs where cold winds blow
From the cold north sea where oil dwells
I've come with many tales to tell.
Right now in my room it is morning, and my own belief is that morning is not a time for gaiety and the whirling confusion of pub nights and ceilidhs. It is a calm morning, the skies are blue and the trees are green, and to any observer this is a time for joyous breaking of the nightly fast before a beautiful day. However, the mood that sits on me is a reflective one, like a raincloud before my eyes, with thousands of memories reflected from behind me in the shimmering droplets. With this in mind I shall embark upon a tale that is not a joyous one, and pray your forgiveness when the song is done. But before we begin there will be a word of truth, this story did not transpire exactly the way it is set down here. In fact there is some doubt as to whether it happened at all. I feel that while my own two eyes may not have seen the events as told, my spirit felt them, inspired by some small thing observed, reach out from the past.
An additional word: my sincerest apologies to the lovely young woman in the foreground of the picture, it was not my intention to record you, but only the ocean walk, it was not until later that I realized my mistake and had not time to return.
The Widows' Walk
My travels brought me at last to Aberdeen, where the Highlands run down to meet the North Sea, it is there, nestled in between the Cairngorn hills and the gray vastness of the ocean that I spent my few remaining days on the journey. After a shower and night's rest to refresh myself from the train I set out upon the streets. Aberdeen is a small city, it's position never lent itself to travelers, passersby, wanderers or traders. For hundreds of years it was an island, adrift in the mists of the north, cloaked in shadow and fog, where the creak of the foremast and crack of a set sail were commonplace.
Yet the town has changed in recent years. Now there is a university, and the recent discovery of a hidden treasure under its harbor waters led to an influx of outsiders. Hundreds and thousands came seeking the black gold, looking to draw from the ground and the ocean the sustaining lifeblood for the machines that brought them. The buildings grew taller and the streets more crooked, leading often to darkened alleys and houses of worse name. There the evil that always followed a city boom could shelter and hide away during the days that seemed to always get brighter, as if the Sun herself had become interested in the goings on at Aberdeen and refused to be kept out of the secret.
It was on a bright and clear morning in the spring that I set out to discover this city. My feet bore me down towards the harbor, sensing that this was the direction in which the most bustling markets could be found. When I reached the high street where the buildings gleamed and people crowded, listening to street performers and staring through shop windows, my eyes drifted down a narrow stair and saw the harbor itself. Something about that stair drew me inward, the ships in the harbor, tall, stately, weatherbeaten monsters, called to me. I had not seen a harbor such as this on my journey, and it must have been curiosity that spurred me onward. Down along the quay the ships rocked and heaved on the waves, giddily tugging at ropes and bumping into the docks, for they had a day of rest in the sunshine, while their partners and fellows had gone out to work, searching for newer and better places to drill. As I walked along I saw more and more ships, all bearing the name of some large company, all sent here seeking the wealth of the North Sea.
Far out along the quay, where the harbor mouth opens into the gray vastness of the sea there is nestled a small village. I doubt very much I could find it again if I were searching for it, but on that day I simply turned a corner and stumbled into its midst.
There the brightly painted houses and shacks drove away the noise of the harbor and the shadow of the giant ships over the quay. Here Aberdeen had chosen to hide part of its old self away from the prying eyes of tourists and visitors. As I strolled along its gardens I was called again by a small opening in the wall of houses. Behind the houses lay the beach and sea wall. I peeked around the corner and looked down the path that lay above the wall. Along the path ran an iron rail, struggling mightily to be the last defense of the land from the sea, but alas, the only success it made was in keeping the land and those upon it from the sea. Far off to the north the sea wall gave way to a sloping beach that ran down to the water, crowned with arcades and small shops that crowd along every water front with the hope of snaring summer holiday travelers. It was only after a moment of gazing off to the horizon where shops turned to grassy dunes and bent far away out of sight, that my eyes returned to myself and saw what was happening closer to hand. Along the rail were several women, clad chiefly in black. Each one carried a flower or some small token. The eldest was advanced in years, a mother, and a mother of mothers, with her youngest heirs standing somberly by her side gazing out at the water. Other such groups were spread out along the rail, each one far enough away to be respecfully removed, but close enough to lend a shaky support to those on either side. Either end was occupied by the women who appeared most advanced in years, the cornerstones of this structure. Towards the far end there was an open space. Suddenly a newcomer came out from the village, a young girl, not more than twenty walked out along the path.
In her gait there was something amiss, the strides were a bit too long, and the pace was a touch too quick, as if in an attempt to appear carefree. As she neared the open space in the row her pace slowed, each step more labored and filled with dread than the last. When she drew even she stopped, but remained facing down the path. With a start she turned and drew her arm back, preparing to cast something into the cold water, an offering, or perhaps a bribe, but her hand failed her, it could not release its precious burden. As her arm returned to her side something broke inside of her. She turned and fled along the path away from the village, but her feet were not able to carry her from the sea, after a stones throw they gave way, and she stumbled forward against the rail, clinging to the cold iron. The oldest woman there, on the far end of the row walked out to her and knelt by her side. She smoothed her hair back and whispered calmly in her ear. The older woman gently opened the young ones hand, and removed a small object that shone in the sun. She slipped the tiny thing onto the hand untouched by Time's withering kiss, and then turned it so that the glimmer disappeared. She helped the young girl to her feet, and led her back to the right place at the rail, not leaving her side, for the first summer is always the hardest, and it is only as the years pass that the spacing of the line grows. On a smooth white hand there glowed a golden band, the light that had once sparkled on the outside was now turned inward, a source of pain, a source of memory, there to remain in the tradition of the village.
The cold wind whipped along the pathway, stinging my eyes as I watched, blurring my vision. This was the way along the quay of Aberdeen. The powers to the south desired something of the Sea, the men of the north wrested it from the Sea, but the gray vastness that stretches beyond the horizon demanded something in return, an unspoken covenant, an unholy lottery. Year by year the vine along the path grows longer, the old protecting the young, as rosebuds turn into thorns.
Over mountains capped with snow
Across the lochs where cold winds blow
From the cold north sea where oil dwells
I've come with many tales to tell.
Right now in my room it is morning, and my own belief is that morning is not a time for gaiety and the whirling confusion of pub nights and ceilidhs. It is a calm morning, the skies are blue and the trees are green, and to any observer this is a time for joyous breaking of the nightly fast before a beautiful day. However, the mood that sits on me is a reflective one, like a raincloud before my eyes, with thousands of memories reflected from behind me in the shimmering droplets. With this in mind I shall embark upon a tale that is not a joyous one, and pray your forgiveness when the song is done. But before we begin there will be a word of truth, this story did not transpire exactly the way it is set down here. In fact there is some doubt as to whether it happened at all. I feel that while my own two eyes may not have seen the events as told, my spirit felt them, inspired by some small thing observed, reach out from the past.
An additional word: my sincerest apologies to the lovely young woman in the foreground of the picture, it was not my intention to record you, but only the ocean walk, it was not until later that I realized my mistake and had not time to return.
The Widows' Walk
My travels brought me at last to Aberdeen, where the Highlands run down to meet the North Sea, it is there, nestled in between the Cairngorn hills and the gray vastness of the ocean that I spent my few remaining days on the journey. After a shower and night's rest to refresh myself from the train I set out upon the streets. Aberdeen is a small city, it's position never lent itself to travelers, passersby, wanderers or traders. For hundreds of years it was an island, adrift in the mists of the north, cloaked in shadow and fog, where the creak of the foremast and crack of a set sail were commonplace.
Yet the town has changed in recent years. Now there is a university, and the recent discovery of a hidden treasure under its harbor waters led to an influx of outsiders. Hundreds and thousands came seeking the black gold, looking to draw from the ground and the ocean the sustaining lifeblood for the machines that brought them. The buildings grew taller and the streets more crooked, leading often to darkened alleys and houses of worse name. There the evil that always followed a city boom could shelter and hide away during the days that seemed to always get brighter, as if the Sun herself had become interested in the goings on at Aberdeen and refused to be kept out of the secret.
It was on a bright and clear morning in the spring that I set out to discover this city. My feet bore me down towards the harbor, sensing that this was the direction in which the most bustling markets could be found. When I reached the high street where the buildings gleamed and people crowded, listening to street performers and staring through shop windows, my eyes drifted down a narrow stair and saw the harbor itself. Something about that stair drew me inward, the ships in the harbor, tall, stately, weatherbeaten monsters, called to me. I had not seen a harbor such as this on my journey, and it must have been curiosity that spurred me onward. Down along the quay the ships rocked and heaved on the waves, giddily tugging at ropes and bumping into the docks, for they had a day of rest in the sunshine, while their partners and fellows had gone out to work, searching for newer and better places to drill. As I walked along I saw more and more ships, all bearing the name of some large company, all sent here seeking the wealth of the North Sea.
Far out along the quay, where the harbor mouth opens into the gray vastness of the sea there is nestled a small village. I doubt very much I could find it again if I were searching for it, but on that day I simply turned a corner and stumbled into its midst.
There the brightly painted houses and shacks drove away the noise of the harbor and the shadow of the giant ships over the quay. Here Aberdeen had chosen to hide part of its old self away from the prying eyes of tourists and visitors. As I strolled along its gardens I was called again by a small opening in the wall of houses. Behind the houses lay the beach and sea wall. I peeked around the corner and looked down the path that lay above the wall. Along the path ran an iron rail, struggling mightily to be the last defense of the land from the sea, but alas, the only success it made was in keeping the land and those upon it from the sea. Far off to the north the sea wall gave way to a sloping beach that ran down to the water, crowned with arcades and small shops that crowd along every water front with the hope of snaring summer holiday travelers. It was only after a moment of gazing off to the horizon where shops turned to grassy dunes and bent far away out of sight, that my eyes returned to myself and saw what was happening closer to hand. Along the rail were several women, clad chiefly in black. Each one carried a flower or some small token. The eldest was advanced in years, a mother, and a mother of mothers, with her youngest heirs standing somberly by her side gazing out at the water. Other such groups were spread out along the rail, each one far enough away to be respecfully removed, but close enough to lend a shaky support to those on either side. Either end was occupied by the women who appeared most advanced in years, the cornerstones of this structure. Towards the far end there was an open space. Suddenly a newcomer came out from the village, a young girl, not more than twenty walked out along the path.
In her gait there was something amiss, the strides were a bit too long, and the pace was a touch too quick, as if in an attempt to appear carefree. As she neared the open space in the row her pace slowed, each step more labored and filled with dread than the last. When she drew even she stopped, but remained facing down the path. With a start she turned and drew her arm back, preparing to cast something into the cold water, an offering, or perhaps a bribe, but her hand failed her, it could not release its precious burden. As her arm returned to her side something broke inside of her. She turned and fled along the path away from the village, but her feet were not able to carry her from the sea, after a stones throw they gave way, and she stumbled forward against the rail, clinging to the cold iron. The oldest woman there, on the far end of the row walked out to her and knelt by her side. She smoothed her hair back and whispered calmly in her ear. The older woman gently opened the young ones hand, and removed a small object that shone in the sun. She slipped the tiny thing onto the hand untouched by Time's withering kiss, and then turned it so that the glimmer disappeared. She helped the young girl to her feet, and led her back to the right place at the rail, not leaving her side, for the first summer is always the hardest, and it is only as the years pass that the spacing of the line grows. On a smooth white hand there glowed a golden band, the light that had once sparkled on the outside was now turned inward, a source of pain, a source of memory, there to remain in the tradition of the village.The cold wind whipped along the pathway, stinging my eyes as I watched, blurring my vision. This was the way along the quay of Aberdeen. The powers to the south desired something of the Sea, the men of the north wrested it from the Sea, but the gray vastness that stretches beyond the horizon demanded something in return, an unspoken covenant, an unholy lottery. Year by year the vine along the path grows longer, the old protecting the young, as rosebuds turn into thorns.
Monday, April 18, 2011
The Brightest Beacon
Come now children and let me tell you a tale, a tale or warriors strong. A tale of old, a tale of yore, a tale of homegrown sons on foreign shores.
As some of you are aware, my brother is here now, if you're one of his blog followers that somehow found your way in by the fire, look less for truth here and more for colourful depictions and exaggerations.
Yesterday dawned bright and cheery, and then we pulled down the window shade to secure a few more hours of precious sleep. The night before had been somewhat uneasy after watching vampire shows, and just being able to feel someone else in the room made me uneasy. My poor brother shut the bathroom door and one point and I jerked out of sleep and was halfway out of bed into what would have been a teeth rattling hit when I caught myself, this was not post apocalyptic Kansas, and i was not being chased by demon possessed groundhogs...yeah, my dreams are a mix and match.
Anyway, Sunday morning, bright and clear. We met with Phil and made the trek down to Dewi Sant (Saint David's) Cathedral for the Passion. The choir was even more well coached than the last time I was there, their angelic tones helped transform a relatively plain building into the Sacred Temple that it was. I saw one of my nanomechanics professors there. Afterward my brother and I wandered our way to the Cardiff Bay. There to see the sights of the Torchwood fountain and the Ianto memorial, and feast on the rare delicacy of Eddies American diner...where they didn't even have the wall clocks set correctly. While ostensibly set to the current time in several different American Cities, they somewhat missed their mark, placing New York and Boston in different time zones, which pushed off Chicago and L.A. Then the Washington clock (whether set for State or District) was magnificently wrong, we were unable to even find the pattern followed to obtain the time displayed.
Today though is when the real story begins. I was up morning doing paperwork so I don't run out of monetary units, then to the market to get some bread and apples for a traveler's breakfast. Then we hopped on the train to Aberdare. I know I've been there twice, but I really love it more each time. As you go farther and farther north you can feel the city slipping behind you. Maybe it's that the forests are thicker, and the hills are greener, but it was a magnificent ride. In Aberdare we went straight to the bus stop, hoping for a #7 up to Penderyn. I think the reason I love it out there is the people. Here in Cardiff people are either 1: students 2: here making a living off the students 3: jaded city dwellers who are trapped in with the students but can't enjoy the sunshine as much. Out in the Beacons the air is cooler and the people are friendlier. Not that they go out of the way to welcome a bunch of Americans, but they're friendlier to each other. Everyone knows each other. The smiles are genuine. On the way up you see the children on holiday running around, because as you move from Aberdare to Penywaun, to Hirwaun, and finally Penderyn, you're going from a town half a mile across, to a village you can throw a rock over. In each one there's a pub, a chippy and a small market. It's sunny and playful. There's boys in the park playing football, smaller children chasing each other around a playground, and over it all a quiet peace that assures those present that this is safe. It's not the wealthiest area, it's not a place of big opportunities, but it's a place where love grows deeper than the pure springs of water coming out of the hills.
We went to the distillery, but that wasn't the true impression I was left with. When we got on the bus back to the city a young woman boarded at a later stop, she was quite attractive, but then I noticed the small boy with her. My mind ran the gambit, from "Oh, it's a sister" to "that's his mom, she's so young, poor girl" to "poor boy, born in a place like this". When we reached the bottom of the hill I was put to shame. The mother and boy got off the bus and a young man was waiting for them. His face lit up when they appeared, the boy running forward to his arms to be scooped up and held in one arm as the mother and father kissed. The young man was rather young, probably 19 or 20, as was the girl. He had plaid rugby in his day and still wore some of the scars from it. I realized suddenly, who was I to judge this family? They were young, sure, but there was love there, a love that I can only hope one day to find for myself. Their lives may not reach the glamorous peaks that we always think of as a success, but who's to tell them that living in a beautiful countryside, with a community that cares about it's people, and a loving family is not a success. May we all remember them in our lives, you'll never hear of them on the news, see their picture in a magazine, but if we could all in our lives even glimpse what they have grasped, we will have lived well. Cheers.
~JK
As some of you are aware, my brother is here now, if you're one of his blog followers that somehow found your way in by the fire, look less for truth here and more for colourful depictions and exaggerations.
Yesterday dawned bright and cheery, and then we pulled down the window shade to secure a few more hours of precious sleep. The night before had been somewhat uneasy after watching vampire shows, and just being able to feel someone else in the room made me uneasy. My poor brother shut the bathroom door and one point and I jerked out of sleep and was halfway out of bed into what would have been a teeth rattling hit when I caught myself, this was not post apocalyptic Kansas, and i was not being chased by demon possessed groundhogs...yeah, my dreams are a mix and match.
Anyway, Sunday morning, bright and clear. We met with Phil and made the trek down to Dewi Sant (Saint David's) Cathedral for the Passion. The choir was even more well coached than the last time I was there, their angelic tones helped transform a relatively plain building into the Sacred Temple that it was. I saw one of my nanomechanics professors there. Afterward my brother and I wandered our way to the Cardiff Bay. There to see the sights of the Torchwood fountain and the Ianto memorial, and feast on the rare delicacy of Eddies American diner...where they didn't even have the wall clocks set correctly. While ostensibly set to the current time in several different American Cities, they somewhat missed their mark, placing New York and Boston in different time zones, which pushed off Chicago and L.A. Then the Washington clock (whether set for State or District) was magnificently wrong, we were unable to even find the pattern followed to obtain the time displayed.
Today though is when the real story begins. I was up morning doing paperwork so I don't run out of monetary units, then to the market to get some bread and apples for a traveler's breakfast. Then we hopped on the train to Aberdare. I know I've been there twice, but I really love it more each time. As you go farther and farther north you can feel the city slipping behind you. Maybe it's that the forests are thicker, and the hills are greener, but it was a magnificent ride. In Aberdare we went straight to the bus stop, hoping for a #7 up to Penderyn. I think the reason I love it out there is the people. Here in Cardiff people are either 1: students 2: here making a living off the students 3: jaded city dwellers who are trapped in with the students but can't enjoy the sunshine as much. Out in the Beacons the air is cooler and the people are friendlier. Not that they go out of the way to welcome a bunch of Americans, but they're friendlier to each other. Everyone knows each other. The smiles are genuine. On the way up you see the children on holiday running around, because as you move from Aberdare to Penywaun, to Hirwaun, and finally Penderyn, you're going from a town half a mile across, to a village you can throw a rock over. In each one there's a pub, a chippy and a small market. It's sunny and playful. There's boys in the park playing football, smaller children chasing each other around a playground, and over it all a quiet peace that assures those present that this is safe. It's not the wealthiest area, it's not a place of big opportunities, but it's a place where love grows deeper than the pure springs of water coming out of the hills.
We went to the distillery, but that wasn't the true impression I was left with. When we got on the bus back to the city a young woman boarded at a later stop, she was quite attractive, but then I noticed the small boy with her. My mind ran the gambit, from "Oh, it's a sister" to "that's his mom, she's so young, poor girl" to "poor boy, born in a place like this". When we reached the bottom of the hill I was put to shame. The mother and boy got off the bus and a young man was waiting for them. His face lit up when they appeared, the boy running forward to his arms to be scooped up and held in one arm as the mother and father kissed. The young man was rather young, probably 19 or 20, as was the girl. He had plaid rugby in his day and still wore some of the scars from it. I realized suddenly, who was I to judge this family? They were young, sure, but there was love there, a love that I can only hope one day to find for myself. Their lives may not reach the glamorous peaks that we always think of as a success, but who's to tell them that living in a beautiful countryside, with a community that cares about it's people, and a loving family is not a success. May we all remember them in our lives, you'll never hear of them on the news, see their picture in a magazine, but if we could all in our lives even glimpse what they have grasped, we will have lived well. Cheers.
~JK
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Spring time and Leeds
Springtime in Wales, absolutely fantastic place to be. We've had pretty consistent sunshine and 65 degree weather. I guess it kind of makes up for the winter. And what better way to enjoy the spring than with shenanigans and athletics. So, we'll do a football post, probably the last one.
Playoffs, an absolutely magical time. We've basically been playing for our playoff chances since November after starting the season 0-2. I clearly remember sitting in Live Lounge the night after we lost to Swansea (bloody Swansea) by one point. It was heartbreaking. Since then we steamrolled, going undefeated in the second half of the season, including the UWE bullets, who were undefeated. That 6 game winning streak was enough to put us in third in the conference. Since we beat UWE we were ranked pretty high, actually the second seeded team in the Challenge Trophy tournament, which was all of th 3rd and 4th conference ranked teams on the island. Since we were seeded high we got a bye week before playing in the quarter finals against Exeter. Exeter didn't quite live up to the hype, and we racked up 39 points. then came NTU in the semis, we railroaded them...sadly I didn't play, I sprained my ankle on Thursday before the game and was having trouble walking.
Last week was crazy, people were bouncing off walls all week with excitement. I got myself an ankle brace and doped up on Ibuprofen. Thursday was fun, I ran at Slot receiver and ended up throwing a touchdown on a reverse pass. On friday we all got on the bus up to Leeds, got there and crashed in the hotel. Saturday morning we were all up early, destroying the breakfast buffet, stacks of bacon and eggs later we all grabbed our kit and went outside to do starting lineups in the sunshine. There was an thrill in the air as we boarded the bus for the ride to the stadium. When we pulled into the parking lot there was murmuring running up and down the bus. All year we've been sweating and bleeding and freezing on floodplain pasture, and now we were going to play in a stadium.
We got into the locker rooms, music pumping. After a bruising season everyone was popping ibuprofen by the sleeve and slathering on icyhot. Once we were all in kit that matched for once, so we looked the part of a finals qualifying team. We actually got to do a run out of the tunnel to Enter Sandman, which was awesome. Even more awesome was the wait in the tunnel before running out, we were jumping and shouting and headbutting each other. Charlie and I smashed our heads (helmets on) so hard that a rivet popped out of my lid, literally I had a screw loose.
What followed was our most physical match, we got two receiving touchdowns early in the game. Then in the third quarter nobody scored. Finally, in the fourth quarter I got on for the last drive, we punched in a rushing touchdown on the last play of the game...not that I had anything to do with it. We ran weak side so all I did was headbutt a few linebackers. With the final whistle we were up 20-0. Next came an epic celebration, body checks, hugs and shouting. Postgame celebrations, ladding it up on the bus, and then after a day of recovery on sunday we capped it all off last night with a night at Tiger, which of course led to Live Lounge when a bunch of us didn't want the night to end. We all got home around 4:30 in the morning after a mackey d's. There aren't many better ways to cap off a night than shouting and screaming along to the Live Lounge DJ with a bunch of friends.
Anyway, here's some pictures, be warned, sweet hair styles are inevitable. Enjoy.
Playoffs, an absolutely magical time. We've basically been playing for our playoff chances since November after starting the season 0-2. I clearly remember sitting in Live Lounge the night after we lost to Swansea (bloody Swansea) by one point. It was heartbreaking. Since then we steamrolled, going undefeated in the second half of the season, including the UWE bullets, who were undefeated. That 6 game winning streak was enough to put us in third in the conference. Since we beat UWE we were ranked pretty high, actually the second seeded team in the Challenge Trophy tournament, which was all of th 3rd and 4th conference ranked teams on the island. Since we were seeded high we got a bye week before playing in the quarter finals against Exeter. Exeter didn't quite live up to the hype, and we racked up 39 points. then came NTU in the semis, we railroaded them...sadly I didn't play, I sprained my ankle on Thursday before the game and was having trouble walking.
Last week was crazy, people were bouncing off walls all week with excitement. I got myself an ankle brace and doped up on Ibuprofen. Thursday was fun, I ran at Slot receiver and ended up throwing a touchdown on a reverse pass. On friday we all got on the bus up to Leeds, got there and crashed in the hotel. Saturday morning we were all up early, destroying the breakfast buffet, stacks of bacon and eggs later we all grabbed our kit and went outside to do starting lineups in the sunshine. There was an thrill in the air as we boarded the bus for the ride to the stadium. When we pulled into the parking lot there was murmuring running up and down the bus. All year we've been sweating and bleeding and freezing on floodplain pasture, and now we were going to play in a stadium.
We got into the locker rooms, music pumping. After a bruising season everyone was popping ibuprofen by the sleeve and slathering on icyhot. Once we were all in kit that matched for once, so we looked the part of a finals qualifying team. We actually got to do a run out of the tunnel to Enter Sandman, which was awesome. Even more awesome was the wait in the tunnel before running out, we were jumping and shouting and headbutting each other. Charlie and I smashed our heads (helmets on) so hard that a rivet popped out of my lid, literally I had a screw loose.
What followed was our most physical match, we got two receiving touchdowns early in the game. Then in the third quarter nobody scored. Finally, in the fourth quarter I got on for the last drive, we punched in a rushing touchdown on the last play of the game...not that I had anything to do with it. We ran weak side so all I did was headbutt a few linebackers. With the final whistle we were up 20-0. Next came an epic celebration, body checks, hugs and shouting. Postgame celebrations, ladding it up on the bus, and then after a day of recovery on sunday we capped it all off last night with a night at Tiger, which of course led to Live Lounge when a bunch of us didn't want the night to end. We all got home around 4:30 in the morning after a mackey d's. There aren't many better ways to cap off a night than shouting and screaming along to the Live Lounge DJ with a bunch of friends.
Anyway, here's some pictures, be warned, sweet hair styles are inevitable. Enjoy.
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