tag:blogs.targetx.com,2008:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297 2008-05-20T18:01:06Z Movable Type 3.34 tag:blogs.targetx.com,2008:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.6141 2008-04-24T20:35:55Z 2008-05-20T18:01:06Z

So that's it. Chalk up another semester to the tally--six down, two to go. But, if you have been faithfully reading this blog from day one, gripped with anxiety for the next RSS alert that a new posting has been...

Albert Martini ]]> tag:blogs.targetx.com,2008:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.5636 2008-03-26T22:25:47Z 2008-03-26T22:29:13Z

Hey, sorry about taking so long to respond to this comment. I lived in Rowell hall freshman year. Back then it was Rowdy Rowell on the decline, a total dump, but totally lovable. The summer after we moved out it...

Albert Martini Hey, sorry about taking so long to respond to this comment. I lived in Rowell hall freshman year. Back then it was Rowdy Rowell on the decline, a total dump, but totally lovable. The summer after we moved out it was totally remodeled, and is now this fabulously beautiful dorm that is like a swanky hotel. Overall, you can't go wrong, all the dorms are nice, it's the people who make the experience. So make sure to take the time to be honest on the housing placement form, it really does work! I still live with my roommate from freshman year off campus, and we were matched up using this system. Good luck! tag:blogs.targetx.com,2008:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.5635 2008-03-26T22:04:08Z 2008-03-26T22:22:36Z

I've had a blast watching this new condo being built on my walk to school everyday. In the course of 10 or so weeks, it has risen from two concrete floors to seven! Pretty remarkable rate of growth I should...

Albert Martini I've had a blast watching this new condo being built on my walk to school everyday. In the course of 10 or so weeks, it has risen from two concrete floors to seven! Pretty remarkable rate of growth I should say. Oh how the world turns! Aside, from that, there's not much else to report on. I've been cooped up working on final projects for the past two weeks at the academic center. Not a bad place to be stuck, but not a very interesting one. I'll save the details of my journalism ethics paper--nobody deserves to have to be a victim of eye melting dryness. Good luck with the rest of the semester world! tag:blogs.targetx.com,2008:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.5407 2008-03-17T01:12:07Z 2008-03-17T01:14:01Z

http://www.rumboalsur2010.com/ If you follow the link above, you will find the giant movement of people flowing from Alaska to the southernmost point of Chile in 2010. Credit and love to my buddy Adrian who brought this to my attention....

Albert Martini http://www.rumboalsur2010.com/ If you follow the link above, you will find the giant movement of people flowing from Alaska to the southernmost point of Chile in 2010. Credit and love to my buddy Adrian who brought this to my attention.]]> tag:blogs.targetx.com,2008:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.5406 2008-03-17T01:05:09Z 2008-03-17T01:10:02Z

If you have seen and thoroughly enjoy the Showtime show called "Californication" starring David Duchovny, than that is exactly what life is like for Professional Writing majors at Champlain. That, plus snow. If you find the show chauvinistic, carnal, crude,...

Albert Martini If you have seen and thoroughly enjoy the Showtime show called "Californication" starring David Duchovny, than that is exactly what life is like for Professional Writing majors at Champlain. That, plus snow. If you find the show chauvinistic, carnal, crude, and any number of other colorful vocabulary to describe distaste for a matter, than "Californicaiton" does not at all reflect the life of Professional Writing majors at Champlain. Thank you, Your President, Your Senator, Your Congress Person, Your Mail Carrier. tag:blogs.targetx.com,2008:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.4968 2008-02-14T03:52:04Z 2008-03-17T01:15:18Z

Dr. Suess is the man. I just thought everyone in internetoramalamdingdongland should know that. I had a great cultural exchange today. I was nigh on twelve steps out of the fresh snow packed entrance of the residence when a man...

Albert Martini Dr. Suess is the man. I just thought everyone in internetoramalamdingdongland should know that. I had a great cultural exchange today. I was nigh on twelve steps out of the fresh snow packed entrance of the residence when a man holding a sign asked me something in French. To which I could only respond as Jack Johnson would have (c'mon, everyone knows that song): "Je ne se pas francoise." (I don't know french.) The man just looked me up and down for a moment like the English he was searching for was written somewhere between my forehead and my shoes. "Uh...fire?" The cigarillo flapped in the corner of his mouth as he forced unfamiliar contortions of the face. I handed him a book of matches I had in my pocket. I then couldn't help but notice that he was the straggler of a small band of protesters getting ready to set up shop on the opposite entrance of my residence hall! I made my own unfamiliar facial contortions and sloppily forced out whatever was printed on the sign in French. "What does this mean... on your sign?" The man paused. Again he made the searching motions from the snow melting off my boots to the frame of the blue hood outlining my face. He contorted, "Uhh... UQAM correspondence and money." I retorted, "The University's correspondence classes are too much money?" He nodded and smiled. I nodded and smiled along. We both knew that our capacities for each others' respective languages had been met. I wanted to dig deeper, but I already know that college is around $3,000 a year, so how much could "correspondence" college be? I wasn't in the mood to have reverse sticker shock ruin my day anyway. As I began to walk away, I tapped his shoulder in a friendly way saying, "Se sa! Merci." (I understand, thank you.) tag:blogs.targetx.com,2008:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.4868 2008-02-06T22:27:21Z 2008-02-06T22:39:15Z

Alright. Confession time. I love opera. That's it, so I said it! I do, I love opera. I may not be a super-buff, I can't sing along with an aria like I can rock with George Harrison, but you get...

Albert Martini ]]> tag:blogs.targetx.com,2008:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.4739 2008-01-30T01:59:33Z 2008-01-30T02:11:04Z

A high-school sophomore just asked in the comment section if Champlain is a good school for writing. I'd like to answer this question as well as I can. In terms of a general writing major, Champlain's program exposes you to...

Albert Martini A high-school sophomore just asked in the comment section if Champlain is a good school for writing. I'd like to answer this question as well as I can. In terms of a general writing major, Champlain's program exposes you to just about every aspect of writing, from full-on creative works--the kind of stuff that you need to reach beyond the depths of your soul to write--to full-on hard news journalism. The professors I've had have been creative and challenging, and the overall curriculum had helped contribute to "world citizen" sense of self. We don't have a B.F.A--yet, but I can't say that my time in the writing program has been absent of lovely, and creative work. On that same note, my time here hasn't been devoid of extremely helpful classes and advice from professors on how to really live out "the writing life." And I'm not talking about "hey, kid, get a job at Starbucks, you're a writer," I'm talking about lessons in how to take work you believe in to publishers, look them in the eye (virtually or not) and get your work out there. The professional writing major has put me in the pilot's seat of my life as a writer, now it's up to me to fire up the engines, grab the controls, and let ambition be my map. tag:blogs.targetx.com,2008:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.4672 2008-01-25T19:08:00Z 2008-03-13T19:41:20Z

Comedy OFF the Main takes place every Wednesday night in the most bar in all of Montreal. By bar, I mean room. No more the size of the average college classroom, not lecture hall—classroom, the modestly appointed bar has 1....

Albert Martini Comedy OFF the Main takes place every Wednesday night in the most bar in all of Montreal. By bar, I mean room. No more the size of the average college classroom, not lecture hall—classroom, the modestly appointed bar has 1. a bar 2. two kinds of drinks: cheap local bottles of beer, and rum 3. a flat-screen t.v tuned into the 24 hour Canadian game show network 3. a touch screen juke-box no one uses 4. some tables and chairs. At 8:30 pm, or 20h 30, depending on your lingual persuasion—English or French, the MC takes over the small floor space in front of the door, asks everyone for five bucks, and someone in the back hits the lights, dimming the beige room to only a single spot on the mic. The “audience" hems and haws, a few people hack, feet squeak against the gray tiled floors, wet from melted snow, and the MC gets to know the room. “You, in the back. What's your name?" “So and so." “Hi So and so. Witty remark, (a few people chuckle) Where are you from?" “Alberta." “What do you do?" “Go to school." “Witty remark, really? How many people here are in university?" (the crowd moans, a few raise hand begrudgingly. The cycle repeats itself until the crowd is “warmed up." An act comes on, sips a beer, gives a schtic, gets laughs. And so it goes. The MC takes drink orders from around the room while other comedians do their bits. The door is opening and closing all night as people go out front for a smoke and come back. People shed layers and put them back on, the heater keeps cycling on and off between moments of absolute hell-fury and post-apocalyptic, frozen absence. Too many people for such a small bar. All the windows are heavy with the visible humidity. It smells like people, not b.o per say—it is a night out after all, most everyone has showered presumable within the last few hours—it just smells like people. “O.K. Well it seems as though holocaust jokes have been the theme tonight. Let's bring up our second to last act for tonight. One of the founders of this room, she's been working the clubs around Montreal, and was prominently featured last season on NBC's 'Last Comic Standing.' Give it up for DeAnne Smith!" I don't know if any of you guys have every watched "Last Comic Standing," which is a great show, and if you did, see DeAnne, but she is hilarious. My words don't do her presence justice, try You Tubbing her, it's worth the ten seconds it'll take. tag:blogs.targetx.com,2008:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.4569 2008-01-17T12:20:13Z 2008-01-19T23:41:59Z

Alright, so I had all but promised myself to make this posting about how much I hate Montreal, that it's because I hate big cities, blah, blah, blah. But instead of being able to sincerely write that I am displeased...

Albert Martini Alright, so I had all but promised myself to make this posting about how much I hate Montreal, that it's because I hate big cities, blah, blah, blah. But instead of being able to sincerely write that I am displeased with being here, I decided to go for a walk... My first stop on my walk was going up St. Laurent street, home of some funky hang-outs and the Portuguese Quarter. Whilst there, I found a small boutique that sold what looked like ex-communist bloc army surplus supplies. After that, I needed a cup of coffee, so I hung a right down Rue du Rachel, and not even one block down, a row of windows began to advertise caffeinated beverages. I decided to go in. It ended up being not the funky coffee house I expected at all, but indeed, another dark pool-table bar with an espresso machine. I ordered a coffee. "No coffee, espresso." "Okay," I said, thinking to myself, "duh, I did the Italy thing already, I like espresso just fine." All I have to say about that is, best-cup-of-espresso I've had back in North America. So I kept walking, and decided not to stop again unless it has something to do with a personal passion. I have many personal passions, so this could have been a very busy walk, but I soon came upon a very "Busy World of Richard Scary" bicycle shop. The only sign advertising that it was a bike shop was a green and yellow giant fiberglass pair of handlebars with a working headlight. Totally sweet. Inside, I met the lone person in the store, the on call mechanic, and began to have a conversation at length about all things bikes these days--fixed gears and bike theft. I soon noticed that his English was beyond impeccable, it was indeed regional. I asked him if he was from Montreal originally, to which he replied, "Tronno." Which I understood to be his regional diction for "Toronto." One block later, I saw the only sign in all of the city practically that had exclusively English written on it. Amazed, I moved in for closer examination, "Comedy OFF the Main. Wednesdays, 8:30, Beer $2.50" Well this had to be an English stand-up gig, and even if not, there should be some interesting characters there; anyway, $2.50 beers? Why not? On my walk back, I stopped at a Portuguese bakery and asked for the house specialty, which was a very charming little tort thing with an egg-creme filling--very good. Back at the UQAM dorms, I settled in for the moment, unsure, but excited for what awaited me "OFF the Main" around 8:30. tag:blogs.targetx.com,2008:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.4521 2008-01-11T03:54:53Z 2008-01-11T04:03:29Z

Alright. So I'm from Jersey, what am I doing 'Jersying up Vermont?! Well, let's go back to my thought process way back in 2004... "Hmm, got to go to college. Let's see here, oh look a big college book!" "Alright,...

Albert Martini Alright. So I'm from Jersey, what am I doing 'Jersying up Vermont?! Well, let's go back to my thought process way back in 2004... "Hmm, got to go to college. Let's see here, oh look a big college book!" "Alright, uhhh, I like snowboarding, a lot, therefore I need to look at colleges in snowy places." "Ooo, look at that, Vermont eh? I think I have a cousin there. Maybe I could visit a few small colleges up there and crash at his joint." That very spring break, I took my first road trip. Five hours later, I was in Richmond, VT visiting my long-lost cousin. I hadn't seen him for years, and I had forgot how much of a gas he was! That week we hit the slopes and looked at Champlain and Johnson State. I ultimately chose Champlain for its location in downtown Burlington, an area of Vermont with an actual population. Don't forget I'm a Jersey boy, whether I like it or not, not Grizzly Adams. Although there can be days when I wish I could just go live in the woods... Questions? Comments? Concerns? Shout me a holla if you want more specifics... tag:blogs.targetx.com,2008:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.4520 2008-01-11T03:52:50Z 2008-01-11T03:54:30Z

Bonjour! Have any of you out there in blog reader land ever played with Legos as a child? If so, did you ever have any sets from the Space Police? If still so, do you remember how when you looked...

Albert Martini P.S, that isn't me... I'll post his name when I learn it! Besides that, stay tuned, the madness has just begun.]]> tag:blogs.targetx.com,2007:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.4404 2007-12-27T00:46:06Z 2008-01-08T13:14:52Z

Hello my dear friends. Please forgive my extended absence, but with the madness of finals on the loose, coupled with the general holiday frenzy, I haven't seen a computer in three weeks. It's a miracle I still know how to...

Albert Martini Hello my dear friends. Please forgive my extended absence, but with the madness of finals on the loose, coupled with the general holiday frenzy, I haven't seen a computer in three weeks. It's a miracle I still know how to type. On my way home for break: So I decided to get an early start, it was the day after my last finals wrapped up, and I was feeling good. I got up at around 5 AM and, brewed some coffee, ate a bowl of oatmeal, brushed my teeth and was out the door. By 6:10, I was well out of Burlington on I-89. The dry powder from the dumping of snow we all had enjoyed over the past few days was drifting across the highway creating a beautiful milky-way, just feet away in the still pre-dawn twilight. I was taking it easy, given the conditions, when I heard my tire squawk for traction. Immediately, I took my foot from the accelerator, but it was too late, the car began to spin on a large tract of black ice. A barrage of multiple choice questions and answers played out in my head as the rest of me tried in vain to control the spin. Finally the car began sliding sideways, and I braced for the inevitable impact. Luckily, the very same white stuff that caused the tires to loose traction ended up saving my ass. The deep drift of plow shifted and wind strewn dry powdered snow acted as a natural airbag; saving my car from major damage, and my skull from the big old trees only ten feet away from the front of the formally careening car. Thanks for the luck, Santa. Next year, can I just have a sled instead? tag:blogs.targetx.com,2007:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.4115 2007-12-03T03:20:04Z 2007-12-03T14:44:43Z

I was cruising the googs for my man Pablo, and a challenge was flagged before my eyes, keep passing on the Neruda chain with your favorite poem of his. So my friends, if you too are struck by the craft...

Albert Martini I was cruising the googs for my man Pablo, and a challenge was flagged before my eyes, keep passing on the Neruda chain with your favorite poem of his. So my friends, if you too are struck by the craft of the South American folk hero Pablo Neruda, find a few, pick-a-one, and pass it on some way in internet land. Jim Ellefson, one of my favorite teachers, a poetry professor at Champlain introduced me to Neruda. The most engaging side note on this gent is his endearment to the masses. Rumor has it, literate or not, in South America a household will have at least two books, the bible, and any publishing by Pablo Neruda. Fact or not, I can't say, it's been a while since my last door-to-door down there, but it is easy to see how likable he is. Ode to My Socks (trans. Robert Bly) by Pablo Neruda Mara Mori brought me a pair of socks which she knitted herself with her sheepherder’s hands, two socks as soft as rabbits. I slipped my feet into them as if they were two cases knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin, Violent socks, my feet were two fish made of wool, two long sharks sea blue, shot through by one golden thread, two immense blackbirds, two cannons: my feet were honored in this way by these heavenly socks. They were so handsome for the first time my feet seemed to me unacceptable like two decrepit firemen, firemen unworthy of that woven fire, of those glowing socks. Nevertheless, I resisted the sharp temptation to save them somewhere as schoolboys keep fireflies, as learned men collect sacred texts, I resisted the mad impulse to put them in a golden cage and each day give them birdseed and pieces of pink melon. Like explorers in the jungle who hand over the very rare green deer to the spit and eat it with remorse, I stretched out my feet and pulled on the magnificent socks and then my shoes. The moral of my ode is this: beauty is twice beauty and what is good is doubly good when it is a matter of two socks made of wool in winter. - In the original Spanish behind the cut. Oda a Los Calcetines Me trajo Mara Mori un par de calcetines que tejió con sus manos de pastora, dos calcetines suaves como liebres. En ellos metí los pies como en dos estuches tejidos con hebras del crepúsculo y pellejos de ovejas. Violentos calcetines, mis pies fueron dos pescados de lana, dos largos tiburones de azul ultramarino atravesados por una trenza de oro, dos gigantescos mirlos, dos cañones: mis pies fueron honrados de este modo por estos celestiales calcetines. Eran tan hermosos que por primera vez mis pies parecieron inaceptables, como dos decrépitos bomberos, bomberos indignos de aquel fuego bordado, de aquellos luminosos calcetines. Sin embargo, resistí la tentación aguda de guardarlos como los colegiales preservan sus luciérnagas, como los eruditos coleccionan documentos sagrados, resistí el impulso furioso de ponerlos en una jaula de oro y darles cada dia alpiste y pulpa de melón rosado. Como descubridores que en la selva entregan el rarísimo venado verde al asador y se lo comen con remordimiento, estiré los pies y me enfundé los bellos calcetines y luego los zapatos. Y es esta la moral de mi Oda: Dos veces es belleza la belleza, y lo que es bueno es doblemente bueno, cuando se trata de dos calcetines de lana en el invierno. tag:blogs.targetx.com,2007:/champlain/AlbertMartini//297.3986 2007-11-26T15:24:41Z 2007-11-27T14:05:26Z

Hello and Happy Thanksgiving my prospective Champlain student friends. A few days ago, we all chowed down. Chewing the turkey, or chewing the fat with Uncle George, we were all indeed chewing. Quickly enough, this brings me to my next...

Albert Martini Hello and Happy Thanksgiving my prospective Champlain student friends. A few days ago, we all chowed down. Chewing the turkey, or chewing the fat with Uncle George, we were all indeed chewing. Quickly enough, this brings me to my next point, chewing. Aside from wondering where this bizarre word comes from, (we can go and research its etymology later) consider how much chewing we do every day, especially on thanksgiving. What I have to say may indeed be bold, but it needs to be said. One more preface however, I love my teeth, they are wonderful, and without them the magic of sandwich would not be possible (sandwich=high-class cuisine off campus). I think that cranberry sauce should become the star of the thanksgiving show. Turkey has held its honor in the sun for hundreds-maybe thousands of years. It's time to show old Ben Franklin's favorite bird who's boss. Move over Tom-turkey, let's let the real star be recognized with an on board soliloquy. This toothless-useless dish has been playing support for so many years, no matter how much more tangy it is than bland, dry turkey. Today, I issue this edict to all my peers and contemporaries, when you become captain of the board (or if your culinary influence holds weight at home today) request, no, demand the immediate institution of the cranberry sauce-canned, fresh, or mold as the crown jewel of thanksgiving. Gobble, gobble, -A.p