The Circus

Sonya, The Girl Without Fear, sent out an invitation to go watch a Charlie Chaplin film tonight at the Cinematheque. The girl has good nerd taste; I have much to learn from her awesomeness. I had never seen an entire Chaplin film before tonight, nor had I been to the Cinematheque. This blog seems to be turning into a documentation of my encounters with (what I find to be) new and interesting aspects of arts, history and culture. I'm happy to add my experience of seeing The Circus to this blog.

Though The Circus is mainly a comedy, I also found it touching. One of the main characters, "A Circus Rider", is the stepdaughter of the Circus Proprietor who manages his show with a hard and heavy hand. The Proprietor is eager to have his audience laugh, though the same cannot be said in regards to his employees. The arrival of Chaplin's character "A Tramp" manages to cheer the beautiful yet slightly tragic figure of the Circus Rider . The interactions between the main characters in the film manage to convey more sentiments to the audience than the laughable qualities of mere slapstick.

The film begins with Chaplin singing and the film is silent, apart from an accompanying music score also composed by the legendary film star. As I sat in the flickering darkness of the theater with my popcorn, I thought of how this film couldn't possibly be fully appreciated in any other environment. I contemplated the possible number of spectators who had also applauded and laughed at the adventures of the lovable Tramp over this last century. To see a Chaplin film at the cinema, one is not only a spectator, but also manages to feel engaged in the plot alongside the film's characters. There were no 3D special effects, explosions or nudity (though you do get to see Chaplin's calves), but seeing The Circus for the first time was certainly a memorable experience. It's no wonder the films have remained popular through several generations.

Also, on April 14th, the Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra will perform the music of the film Modern Times, where Chaplin's timeless character The Tramp made his last appearance.

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Citrus Cider

I currently live in Winnipeg, Manitoba and while I do love the winters here, they are quite cold. It's always nice to have a hot drink waiting for you when you come in rosy cheeked from the cold. The following recipe is for a crockpot citrus cider which I've taken from my Better Homes & Gardens crockpot recipe book. This citrus cider is also a delicious and delightfully fragrant recipe, perfect for guests who might have to drive home after all these holiday parties going on during the season.

8 cups apple cider or apple juice

1 cup orange juice

1/2 cup lemon juice

1/4 cup honey

8 inches stick cinnamon, broken

8 whole cloves

3 slices fresh ginger

1)Combine cider, orange juice, lemon juice, and honey. Stir to dissolve honey.

2)For a spice bag, cut a 6 inch square from a double thickness of cheesecloth. Place cinnamon sticks, cloves, and ginger in the center of the cheesecloth square. Bring up corners of the cheesecloth; tie close with clean 100 percent cotton kitchen string (I just tie the corners of the cheesecloth together tightly). Add spice bag to mixture in cooker.

3)Cover and cook on low-heat setting for 5 to 6 hours or on high-heat setting for 2 1/2 to 3 hours. Remove spice bag and discard.

Grab your favourite holiday mug and enjoy some citrus cider!

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'Oh, Whistle, and I`ll Come to You, My Lad'

I have a love for English ghost stories, particularly those stemming from the Victorian and Edwardian eras. Many of today's attempts at horror include gore and sensational storylines. I prefer the quite murmurs of fear Susan Hill inspires in readers in her book The Woman In Black. I am, as I have previously confessed, also a lover of books. When I walk into a second hand or used book store, I feel as though I am embarking on an adventure. What marvels shall I encounter? That said, I was in a used bookstore in London, Ontario a few years ago and picked up a copy of M.R. James' Collected Ghost Stories. It is a modern edition, though I love it just the same. I had never heard of this author before, but because this book had been published by the same publishers as another collection of works I enjoy, I purchased the book. The story 'Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad' was the first story I read, and I made the mistake of reading the story late at night.

M.R. James (1862-1936) was a medievalist and provost of King's College Cambridge. Allegedly, he identified himself very much with the Victorian age, and did not like ways in which the 'modern' world was progressing. James never married; the academic world was his home and sanctuary. Most of his stories reflect these details about his life. His stories are cast in dusty academic settings, where the antiquarian and university professor are the heroes (or victims). The past is a mysterious entity, which, if pushed and prodded too vigorously by the curious, can retaliate and reveal its lessons with terrifying severity.

James wrote his ghost stories to entertain a select group of friends and fellow scholars at Cambridge at Christmastime. This is why I felt it appropriate to share the stories of M.R. James with you in early December, so that you may also take part in the Victorian tradition of sharing ghost stories at Christmas.

The BBC has some very good television productions of several of his stories as part of their 'Ghost Stories for Christmas' series. A View from a Hill (2005) is a good place to start, as is 'Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad' (1968).

The University of Adelaide, a most useful website, has posted the collected works of M.R. James online here.

For a more complete observation of the life and works of M.R. James, as well as details of film, radio and theater productions of his stories, the site 'A Thin Ghost' is a good place to start.

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percy bysshe shelley

though i'm not a student of english literature i sometimes fancy that i were. so many publications which have only been lately released are so attractive. while these publications are often quite tempting to read, i find myself within an episode in my life where i still wish to explore (or am simply drawn) towards authors of the past. though i am currently a slave to history and all its mystery, i find myself sneaking a copy of 'british poetry and prose' amongst my history books. i'm utterly infatuated with the romantic poets. keats, byron, shelley... their tragic and untimely ends seem only to add to the weight of their poetry.

i won't provide an overview of his life or an analysis of the following poem. i simply wish to share with fellow dreamers a poem from an old book over which i pondered late one night.

To Night I Swiftly walk o’er the western wave, Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where, all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, Which make thee terrible and dear, — Swift be thy flight! II Wrap thy form in a mantle gray, Star-inwrought! Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day; Kiss her until she be wearied out, Then wander o’er city, and sea, and land, Touching all with thine opiate wand— Come, long-sought! III When I arose and saw the dawn, I sighed for thee; When the light rode high, and the dew was gone, And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turned to his rest, Lingering like an unloved guest, I sighed for thee. IV Thy brother Death came, and cried, Wouldst thou me? Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee, S hall I nestle near thy side? ouldst thou me?—And I replied, No, not thee! V Death will come when thou art dead, Soon, too soon— Sleep will come when thou art fled; Of neither would I ask the boon I ask of thee, belovèd Night— Swift be thine approaching flight, Come soon, soon!

percy bysshe shelley would die tragically after keats but before byron under, what some say, mysterious circumstances. he died while at sea along with two others. he was one month shy of thirty.

The Funeral of Shelley

by Louis Edouard Fournier

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royal wood

i saw royal wood perform in winnipeg last summer, my boyfriend and i had just started dating. royal asked if there were any new summer loves in the audience, my boyfriend and i were both trying not to grin too much like two silly kids and look at each other.
royal wood has to be one of the most captivating musicians out there right now

. his music seems to come sincerely and magically from a real place. it haunts you and stays in your imagination long after the music has faded.

he just released his new album, the waiting. i look forward to much more creative brilliance from this man.

he is truly talented. plus, he always looks so classy!

try not to tear up when listening to juliet, it's the first song i ever heard sung by royal wood

the antler mag

the antler online magazine, a most recent discovery, is fabulously dedicated to all things creative, classy, imaginative, and timeless. if you are an admirer of similarly superb magazines such as lula and frankie, falling in love with the antler is a sure thing. interviews with artists and other creative souls, curiosities from days gone by and fashion are but a few examples of what you may find when reading the antler.

cozy up with a cup of tea and your computer to visit the antler and you are sure to be swept away within the starry dreams of this fabulous magazine.

the art of yellena james

i've become an admirer of the work of american artist yellena james. here are some examples of her work, to see more, make sure to stop by her site here.