In Morris Panych's Earshot, the sole character confesses he dislikes public transportation, "because it's so, what's the word?...public." I don't particularly mind that part, although some passengers can be quite dynamic, what with proudly announcing their place of birth to everyone who boards, or reviewing their grocery list (white sliced bread, margarine, a pineapple) with the patient bus driver who also makes a special stop to deposit them as close as possible to Sobey's. And riding the bus is an excellent venue for catching up on your course reading - something you should never do while driving, by the way.

(Image: www.esquire.com.)

Apostrophes Imperiled

You may have noticed a few years back that when Tim Horten's was acquired by an American franchise the apostrophe was removed from the name: Tim Hortens. Well, there was some grammarian gripping at the time but now comes a real anti-apostrophe onslaught, led by, of all people, the British. More specifically, the Birmingham city council, which in a one fell swoop has slashed the apostrophes from all its street signs. They say an address like "Earl's Court" signifies possession, which is inaccurate and outdated. Bollocks, cry the pro-apostrophists, counter-charging that the city council is equating proper grammar with elitism. As the linguist battle rages we'll hope the ripples don't cross the pond to threaten our capital city's apostrophe!

(Image: onthemarkwriting.files.)

Earshot

If you're looking for a theatrical fix this weekend and you're out and about in St. John's you should catch Earshot, C2C Theatre's latest, starring the irreducible Charles Tomlinson. Showtimes are 8pm with a pywc matinee at 2pm tomorrow.

(Image: www.ac-nancy-metz.fr.)

Was lucky yesterday to catch the film that Roger Ebert hopes will win the Best Picture Oscar: Gus van Sant's biopic of Harvey Milk. Among the good things about this solid film (nuanced and spot-on performances from Sean Penn and Josh Brolin, a note-perfect soundtrack, intercut footage of the actual people and events depicted) was watching a gentle person make such an impact with his guts, smarts and sense of humour.

(Image: jimboland.com.)

A couple of years ago, I staged a one-actor play, Your Only Life, at the Halifax Fringe Festival. It was September, and downtown was filled with students from Dal and St. Mary's. I rented a room from a well known Nova Scotian actress (so cool Daniel McIvor wrote a role for her), found my way to the YWCA downtown (being a gym rat who gets nervous when she can't locate the nearest available elliptical machine), and, oh yeah, figured out where the theatre space was. As I walked up the stairs that first night, I was very lucky to meet two guys from New Zealand who were touring their improv show. There is no better way to get through the Halifax Fringe Festival than with a couple of New Zealanders - or to navigate many other situations, I imagine. Plus they'd actually heard of Newfoundland (because of Captain Cook). I was reminded of them yesterday at a Philosophy/Language lecture yesterday. Now these sessions are usually hermeneutics this and Heidigger that, blah blah, but yesterday there was also talk of something called Flight of the Conchords, and I must say they sound hilarious.

(Image: FlightoftheConchordsAlbum.jpg.)

Yesterday was Candlemas Day, which means we're halfway between the winter and spring equinoxes. (Equinoxi?)

(Image: irishfamilyhistory.)

As the storm began to gather itself in yesterday afternoon, I hopped on the #15 bus and went to the mall to catch Slumdog Millionaire. Everything you have heard about this wonderful film is true - be warned there are some distressing, but not gratuitous, scenes - and you'll be wanting to soundtrack too I reckon.

(Image: huffingtonpost.com.)