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UBC Publications

UBC Publications

The Ubyssey Oct 8, 2009

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The Ubyssey's
annual literary contest
has come around again!
Read the winning entries
in our special pull-out
supplement. Pages 5-8
oiTJBC'spl^to^      o
versitytown  °n'rZ'UBlvd'
project and to rep* brook
Vary" bus loop on   &^eA
to go under a shoppn & ity
S°* °^rtoS accessible
Boulevard to Pr0™eding to for-
transpo^on AccordJ^
mer h uJle the university
Tristan Ma*L condo plan but
The AMS has been vocal about their opposition, lobbying the Board of Governors to
halt construction. Studenfeat-large have also
|, voiced their opinions: in April 2007 a petition
was signed m opposition to the entire U-Blvd
project. A protest space called Trek Park was
created, which caused a number of confrontations between police and students
In April 2008, 20 students were arrested
after a peaceful protest" turned ugly in an
incident that is now known as "Knoll-Aid 2 0"
Included m those arrests was Stefanie Ratjen
who was the AMS VP external at the time '
Today, the AMS still maintains their opposition to the cost of the
J project, lack of capac-
'ity and inability for
trolleybuses to access
the bus loop.
AMS President Blake Frederick told
The Ubyssey that the AMS has started
planning for the underground bus loop
in their plans for the $ 110 million SUB
Renew project.
How exactly the
two plans will fit I
together,   Frederick said, is yet to
be determined.
M     The project has exp ^uon
I delays, in January 2W^udgeting/
Fboom, combmed withP0      constrUC.
i^fcepr£^ed its start One
Hon in phases, ™taf*   Zfled out ol the
^ walkway by bnopp ^^^^
tv,o Rnard of Governors decided to I
lv when they announced the sepa^
hef?Zmnbr0 years; really at tins
ff wS inVl  implementation
The university is still committed to the project, and
are waiting for TransLink to get
back to them with design details
and a construction schedule. They are expecting a decision from TransLink by the end of
Despite concerns that the bus loop is too
small, John Metras, managing director of infrastructure development for UBC's Land and
Building Services, said that the university is
comfortable that the facility at its current size
will meet the needs of commuters, and that
TrSnk"        °n ^ technicaI exPertise of
m  '"We've heard all of the concerns," he said
and I think there's been efforts to try to address
some;of those concerns, but ultimately...the project will go ahead." ^J
■■news briefs
Late professor Peter Oberlander (1922-
2008) was given the United Nations Habitat Scroll of Honour award on Monday, in
spirit of World Habitat Day. Oberlander
was given the award for his dedication
to issues surrounding global community
planning. The award recognizes those who
play a key role in improving living conditions in urban centres around the world.
In 1952, Oberlander founded UBC's
School of Community and Regional Planning (SCARP). The school has produced
over 1000 graduates who work in
communities around the globe. He also
established the Centre for Human Settlements at UBC in 1975, where students
research global planning and community
A group of UBC microbiologists have come
to discover a defence mechanism ofthe
body's immune system against the food-
borne infection Listeria.
"We know a great deal about how our
body's adaptive immune system reacts
to viruses but generally very little about
immune response against bacterial infections," said UBC professor Wilfred Jefferies.
The study highlights the role of dendritic
cells, which are gatekeepers in activating
the immune system.
Jefferies boasts that the study establishes the vital role of dendritic cells in fighting
bacterial infections and sheds light on how
we can manipulate and engage immune
responses. "This knowledge will ultimately
aid in the design of vaccines against bacteria and other pathogens," he added.
Dr Bhagirath Singh, scientific director
at CIHR's Institute of Infection and Immunity, said that "Dr Jefferies' work advances
our collective effort to prevent listerosis by
focusing on the way our immune defences
are wired and triggered upon initial infection by invading pathogens."
UBC chemistry Professor Laurance Hall,
inventor of magnetic resonance imaging
(MRI) technology, has died at age 71.
MRI provides the outside world with
images ofthe internal conditions of our
organs. In UBC's Chemistry department,
he built Canada's first ever MRl machine
from the bottom up. Later, he fitted the
MRI scanner to look at the organs ofthe
entire human body.
Apart from medicine, Hall also used
the MRI to locate the sugar molecules
dissolved in our body fluids. He was also
involved with the advances in nucleur
magnetic resonance (NMR) that detects the
weak radio signals emitted by the nucleus
of the atom, which are now crucial in
today's medical science.
A report released last week by UBC law professor Michael Jackson and Graham Stewart, the retired head of the John Howard
Society of Canada, outlining suggestions of
federal prison reform, has come back with
a less-fhan-positive response from Ottawa.
The report discusses how "get-tough"
reforms aren't proven by any evidence to
be effective and, in fact, only exacerbate the
problems they are trying to address. It also
states that Harper's 2007 penal reform is
shocking for its various recommendations
that would conflict with prisoners' human
rights, and increase costs without doing
anything to improve public safety.
The Conservative government's dismissive response was reflected in Public Safety
Minister Peter Van Loan's comment to Saskatoon's StarPhoenix, "The professor has a
different philosophy than us. We think the
protection of society has to come first." tl
—Katarina Grgid 2/UBYSSEY.CA/EVENTS/2009.10.08
OCTOBER ii,  2009
Paul Bucci: coordinating@ubyssey.ca
Samantha Jung: news@ubyssey.ca
Kate Barbaria & Trevor Record:
culture@ubyssey. ca
Justin McElroy : sports@ubyssey.ca
Trevor Melanson : features@ubyssey.ca
GeraldDeo :photos@ubyssey.ca
Kyrstin Bain :production@ubyssey.ca
Katarina Grgic: copy@ubyssey.ca
Tara Martellaro : 7nulti7nedia@ubyssey.ca
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AD DESIGN : Isabel Ferreras
The Ubyssey is the official student newspaper of the
University of British Columbia. It is published every
Monday and Thursday by The Ubyssey Publications
Society. We are an autonomous, democratically run
student organization, and all students are encouraged
to participate.
Editorials are chosen and written by the Ubyssey
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do not necessarily reflect the views of The Ubyssey
Publications Society or the University of British
Columbia. All editorial content appearing in The Ubyssey
is the property of The Ubyssey Publications Society.
Stories, opinions, photographs and artwork contained
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Letters to the editor must be under 300 words.
Please include your phone number, student number and
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phone. "Perspectives" are opinion pieces over 300
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Ubyssey staff members. Priority will be given to letters
and perspectives over freestyles unless the latter is
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reserves the right to edit submissions for length and
clarity. All letters must be received by 12 noon the day
before intended publication. Letters received after this
point will be published in the following issue unless
there is an urgent time restriction or other matter
deemed relevant by the Ubyssey staff.
It is agreed by all persons placing display or classified advertising that if the Ubyssey Publications Society
fails to publish an advertisement or if an error in the ad
occurs the liability of the UPS will not be greater than
the price paid for the ad. The UPS shall not be responsible for slight changes or typographical errors that do
not lessen the value or the impact of the ad
Tara Martellaro looked long and hard at Chibwe Mweene
The knife in his hand glistened with Michael Thibeaulfs
blood.  Katarina Grgic looked on in mild amusment and
Steven Chua laughed out loud.  Charlize Gordon seemed
bored, but that was okay because Bryce Warnes and
Maria Cirstea were there to keep her company.  It was
the Ubyssey's 25* Annual knife-fight. Gerald Deo was
taking photos and Keegan Bursaw was filming. Anthony
Goertz and Jason Yi were placing bets with Trevor
Melanson's cash. The upset Kasha Chang was appalled
at the amount of debauchery and decadence displayed
Austin Holm shrugged his shoulders and Justin McElroy
looked on with a beer in his hand, Wilson Wong cackled
with evil laughter while Morgan Tien giggled with excitement. Ashley Whillams brought party food and Eunice
Hii brought the smiles.  First round of the fight's over,
second round starts in five. Samantha Jung gets the
audience pumped up for the next round of knife-fighting
fun, and in their excitement Fabiola Carletti, Sarah Ling,
Stefanie Ratjen, and Tristan Markle start throwing chairs
and going ape-shit.  Meanwhile, Trevor Record's been
playing with matches and sets fire to Kate Barabaria's
hair. As she runs around the room, flames leap onto
the laps of Dax Sorrenti and Bryce Warnes. They try to
play it cool, 'cause they're too busy talking to Cristina
Kwon.  Carson Pfahl shrieks with laughter; Greg Ursic's
also ungulfed in flames. Kyrstin Bain tries to settle the
mess, but Kathy Yan Li wants the chaos to continue.
Vinne Yuen sounds the second round bell, and Paul
Bucci and Kai Green are up next. WHO WILL WIN?
V      Canada Post Sales
Number 0040878022
Canadian    printed on^lOOZo
University     'reeydedpaper
Press \!_\Q
Tonel: Las partes que mas me
sudan cuando me pongo nervhso •
" Tne Parts of Me that Sweat the Most
When I Get Nervous" evokes graphic
humour while dealing with marginal
aspects of sexuality and the physical
nature of human bodies. Connotations of
a day-to-day physicality come through in
the image of a sweating, nervous man,
whose placement leaves him open to
inspection and scrutiny. • Unti October
12, BC Gas Confeience Room (Rm 742)
Walter C Koerner Lbrary, naomisawada(?>
ubcca, free.
Journal Writing: A Voice of One's
Own • Keeping a journal is a powerful
way to enhance creativity and increase
self-awareness. This course, led by
Marlene Schiwy PhD, encourages your
inner voice to speak out. Whether you
are seeking creative inspiration and a
stimulating atmosphere in which to write,
or working on the great Canadian novel,
this course will get your creative juices
flowing. Please bring a blank notebook or
journal to class. • Saturdays, Oct 10-Nov
14, 930am-1230pm, Rm TBA, $375,
more info 604 822 9564.
Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen
• UBC Film Society presents the latest
Transformers movie. Deception forces
return to Earth on a mission to take
Sam Witwicky prisoner after the young
hero learns the truth about the ancient
origins of the Transformers. • Oct 7-/7,
9pm, Norm Theatre, SUB, members: $2,
general $4.
Bruno • LBC Rm Society presents a
flick about flamboyant Austrian fashionista
Bruno who takes his fashion-based television show to America. Bruno goes through
one reinvention of himself after another,
ultimately straying to areas far removed
Iran his own self. • Oct 7-/7, 9pm, Norm
Theatre, SLB, members $2, general $4.
Hip Hop • Hip hop dance originated in
New York among young Hispanic and
African-American men during the late
60's as part of the hip hop culture of
rap, scratch music and graffiti art. The
dance is always changing but essentially
embraces the two styles of break dance
and body popping. Loose baggy clothes
and runners recommended no jeans/
skirts as they constrict movement.
Al levels welcome! • 4pm-5pm, SUB
214/216, ubcdancehcrizons.com, $8.
The Live Sessions: Jets Overhead •
Victoria-based rock band Jets Overhead
headlines the third and final performance
of The Live Sessions at the Chan Centre,
an intimate concert series featuring three
Thursday evening performances with
some of BC's hottest musical talent. •
5pm, Tebs Studb Theatre, $15 at Tcket-
master, students: $K).
I'm Already Good—Why Do I Need
God? • That's a question many people
ask Our speaker, Dr Rikk V\fetts, is Associate Professor of New Testament at
Regent College. Dr V\fetts has worked
with IBM as well as being engaged in
projects in public schools that provide
crisis accommodation and various
rehabilitation programs for the urban
poor • 7pm-8pm, Woodward Bbmedical
Buiding, Lecture Hal 6
UBC Symphony Orchestra • Glinka
Russian and Ludmilla Overture, Tchia-
kovsky Romeo and Juliet, and Shostakovich: Symphony No. 10, Op. 93. • 8pm
The Chan Centre for the Performing Arts,
6265 Crescent Road, free.
Go Global Info Session • This session
will cover the nuts and bolts of Go
Global programs: Exchange and Study
Abroad, International Service Learning,
Group Study programs, and Research
Abroad. • I2am-lpm, IBLC, more info at
UBC Photography Society Presents:
Lincoln Clarkes • Meeting and guest
lecture: open to members and the public
Complimentary food and drink • 6pm,
Uooet Room IKBLC, for more info e-mail
photosocubc@gmai.com or see worldwi-
If you have an event you want listed
here, e-mail us at events(?>ubyssey.
ca. This means you, campus dubs.
Adult Ballet with Helen Evans fall classes
starting now beginner-intermedate,
studio at 7th and Fir Call 604732.5429
OR EvansGerrycayahooca
In the online article titled "Annual TEDx
Terry talks challenge how we think,"
the name of the conference is officially
"TEDx Terry Talks" or "TEDxTt." As well,
there were eight student speakers and
one alumnus, not seven speakers. The
ubyssey regrets this error
In the editorial titled "AMS spends frivolously" in the October 1 issue, instead
of "The renovations will increase the
number of spaces for clubs from 70 out
of 350 clubs to 77 A whopping two per
cent," the sentence should read "The
renovations will increase the number of
spaces from 70 out of 350 clubs to 91.
A whopping six per cent." The Ubyssey
regrets this error
solution, tips and computer
programs at www.sudoku.com
© Puzzles by Pappocom
Exploring your
AU too.
Teach English
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Are you passionate
about campus events?
Want to be in the
know and help your
fellow students be
in the know as well?
Know anything about
RSS feeds? E-mail
to see what we can
do with your expertise
and passion. Seriously. 2009.1 0.08/UBYSSEY.CA/NEWS/3
From the Canadian Mental
Health Association
• 10-20% of Canadian youth are affected by a mental disorder or illness
• 8% of adults will experience major depression at some point in their lifetime
• 24% of all deaths among 15-24 year olds in Canada are due to suicide
• 49% of those who have felt like they have suffered from anxiety or
depression have not gone to the doctor about their problem
• Schizophrenia most commonly strikes those who fall under the 16-30
year-old age group, affecting 1 in 100 people
A took back at the controversial bus loop
April 2003
Former UBC VP External and University Affairs Dennis Pavlich announces that draft plans for U-Blvd
will create a "university town" on
January 2004
A competition is announced for the
design ofthe proposed buildings on
April 2008
19 students are arrested after a
"peaceful protest" turns ugly. A
student-organized demonstration
called "Knoll-Aid 2.0" is interrupted
by policemen and firefighters, and
a fallout takes place between authorities and students. Protesters
allege police brutality.
January 2008
Trek Park is bulldozed by the university, apparently without warning students beforehand. Around the same
time, a group calling themselves the
"Wreath Underground" vandalize the
Ponderosa Complex and the Old Administration building declaring war
on the university. "We will push these
fuckers until they concede every inch.
This is our declaration of war," they
said in a letter to The Ubyssey.
October 2009
Despite opposition, UBC is still
going ahead with the U-Blvd project. They are currently waiting on
TransLink to approve a construction schedule and design details.
They are scheduled to have this by
the end ofthe month.
November 2007
Results of the September consultations show that students favour
green, open and social spaces over
October 2007
Darren Peets, who was involved in
the first protests against the U-Blvd
project, tells The Ubyssey, "University Boulevard stands out to me as
an example of how [consultation]
was done wrong."
April 2005
"Team A" wins the U-Blvd architect
competition. Made up of California
and Vancouver architects, Team A
say their design "weaves the campus
together." The AMS fears increased
competition from commercial businesses that U-Blvd will bring.
January 2006
Construction and poor budgeting
result in UBC scheduling the U-Blvd
project in phases. This delays the
project's start.
Summer 2006
The California architectural firm
pulls out of the project, and are
replaced by a Toronto-based group.
April 2007
A student petition calls for a stop to
the U-Blvd project Petitioners say
that student space and needs should
have priority over retail space.
September 2007
The AMS finally gets a seat in the
consultation process for U-Blvd.
Protesters set up a protest space
between the Grassy Knoll and the
proposed University Square site. It
is called Trek Park, after UBC's Trek
2010 plan. Police and students
clash over the protest space.
Group confronts social UBC agrees to more
stigma with humour
Nearly 500 people attended the two
Stand Up for Mental Health comedy shows on Monday at Frederick
Wood Theatre and the Totem Park
Ballroom. The campus comedy day
coincided with National Mental Illness Awareness Week, a campaign
that aims to break down the stigma
surrounding mental illness.
Karine Stjean stood before the
microphone clutching her cue cards.
Most of the audience wasn't much
older than her, and many without
seats sat close by and cross-legged on
the floor. The 16-year-old comic wore
heart-shaped earrings, which framed
her cherub cheeks, and a bright yellow shirt.
"I took this anger management
class and they told us to do the
square-breathing technique when
we get angry," she said. "That really
pissed me off."
The crowd erupted in laughter,
showing support for Stjean and the
other comedians that highlighted the
humour in a diverse list of mental
Mental illness directly affects 20
per cent of Canadians and indirectly
affects all Canadians at some point
through a family member, colleague
or friend, according to the Canadian
Mental Health Association.
Depression, seasonal affective
disorder and anxiety all rank within
the top seven most common health
conditions on UBC campus, according to 2008 data from the UBC Wellness Centre.
Stand Up for Mental Health aims
to encourage dialogue around such
numbers. David Granirer launched
the program to demonstrate that
humour can be a powerful form of
therapy for the participants and a
taboo-buster for the general public.
Since 2004 he has taught other
people with mental illness how to get
behind a microphone, speak their
truths and inspire laughter in themselves and others.
"It just opens up a whole conversation for people," said Granirer. "If
we can get [students] talking about it
now, that's a huge step forward."
Granirer copes with his own depression through medication, comedy and community service. His ten-
year-old son, Jonathan Granirer, was
a favoured performer at the event.
"When I first heard my dad had a
mental illness, I thought liow could
someone so weird get any weirder?'"
said the young Granirer, who ended
his cheeky routine with a "but seriously folks," asking that people stop
fearing those with mental illness and
instead give them the support they
The problem is often invisible.
One grad student that attended the
show—who asked not to be identified—privately deals with generalized anxiety disorder.
"Though I was accepted, it was
impossible for me to go to Oxford,"
she said softly. "And even now I want
to be able to tell my supervisor things
like 'I didn't do the reading last night
because I had a panic attack.'"
The student said that she admired
the comedians for their bravery. "It's
refreshing that others could get up
there without shame and self-pity."
In 2010, the comedy group will
be contributing to the second-year
curriculum for UBC medical students, explaining to future physicians the importance of empathy
and of respectfully asking the questions that identify and help treat
mental illness. vtT
student housing
Totem Park to get 550 new beds
With waiting lists for housing ranging in the thousands each year, the
demand for more beds has been
echoed for years. Now, that plea is
transforming into an active plan:
UBC has launched the initiative to
create more housing on campus,
especially for first-year students.
The first phase of the project is
called the "Totem hi-fill Project." By
August 2011, the target is to add 550
beds to Totem Park residence by attaching 6-7 storey buildings designed
to fit with the existing complex.
Andrew Parr, managing director
of Student Housing and Hospitality
services, recognized students as the
sole inspiration ofthe project.
"For quite some time now, despite
the recent growth of 1600 beds at
Marine Drive Residence, there has
been a long wait list and a strong demand for more housing at UBC," he
said. "Couple this with the increased
engagement and improved learning
opportunities for students who live
in residence and it is clear more
beds are needed."
Board of Governors student representative Bijan Ahmadian expressed
his optimism for the direction UBC
Housing is taking. "I am excited
about the project, especially about
UBC's future ability to offer more
first-year students guaranteed housing," he said. "This will make UBC
even more attractive to prospective
students, and will significantly enhance the engagement opportunities
for those first-year students."
Parr, who had a major role in
shaping the approved project, shared
Ahmadian's remarks.
"I strongly support this
growth. Our plan is to grow the number of beds by 2500 in the next five
years, taking the percentage of full-
time students living on campus from
28 per cent to 35 per cent," he said.
The new buildings to appear
in Totem Park and subsequent
residences will be more sustainable
than most of the current complexes.
For the in-fill project, UBC housing
has committed to REAP Gold standards—the residential equivalent
to LEED Gold. These standards
include the management of water
and energy, building materials and
building function.
The future phases Parr mentioned
include incorporating new neighbourhoods, or "hubs," in strategic
locations around campus. The locations specifically under consideration are the Ponderosa Hub at West
Mall, University Boulevard and the
Law Hub, just south of the not-yet-
built new Law building. These hubs
will include services such as student
housing food services, child care,
recreational facilities and possibly
academic classrooms.
"In addition to these hubs we are
also looking at higher-density student family housing opportunities in
the Acadia Park area," Parr said.
Students can contribute their
thoughts to housing developments
on campus and other aspects of
campus construction in the Campus
Plan consultations, which run from
October 5 to 22.'(I
Take back
your campus
The UBC underground bus terminal
has always been a bad idea. Over
the last few years, students have
utilized a variety of avenues to
express their concerns: some delivered petitions, some reclaimed
public space, some pointed out
design flaws. Collectively students
have stepped forward with the
vision, and the funds, to create a
better plan.
From 2003-2005, former UBC
VP Administration Dennis Pavlich
devised a plan to have the centre of
campus dominated by retail space.
Initial estimates showed that retail
rents would have to be extremely
high for the project to be financially
viable. So, UBC decided on an underground bus terminal to funnel
people directly into the shopping-
condo complex.
UBC Properties Trust was given
control ofthe project. In the spring
of 2007, without having consulted
students, Properties Trust moved
to have their project approved by
the UBC Board of Governors (BoG).
Students mobilized and in two
weeks got 4000 signatures to stop
the plan. On May 2, 2007, the AMS
unanimously approved a motion
opposing the entire project.
At this time, UBC's new president Stephen Toope held a private
meeting with Poettcker and reprimanded him for not consulting
with students. At the same time,
a new retail analysis prepared for
UBC by BTA consultants showed
that the shopping mall plan was
not feasible.
At the May 2007 BoG meeting,
UBC cancelled the shopping mall
and condo components of the plan.
However, despite the fact that a
main point of the bus terminal was
to maximize retail space rent, the
BoG stayed committed to the $40
million underground bus loop.
Toope's compromise was well-
intentioned, but illogical.
In November 2008, Poettcker
told BoG members that the terminal plan was $ 10 million short and
that they should try to take that
money from students. TransLink
conducted a circulation study of
the bus terminal plan and implicitly found what students had been
saying all along—the terminal plan
was inadequate to meet rising student demand and had a number of
technical issues.
Students have long stated that
the project is expensive and unnecessary. This funding could go a
long way toward improving financial assistance for students, class
availability, and childcare support.
It is disconcerting that UBC remains committed to this illogical
project, and it is disgraceful how
the university administration continues to bully, intimidate, and manipulate students to get it done. Students have the power to influence
how their campus is run. Please
support student-driven processes
and take back your campus, tl
Editor's Note: Ratjen was the AMS VP
External and Markle was the VPAd-
minstrationfor the 2008/2009 year. 4/UBYSSEY.CA/CULTURE/2009.10.08
Got a hot date on
Friday night?
Pretend you're classy,
and take them to the
Vancouver International
Film Festival.
Check out ubyssey.ca/
culture for new VIFF reviews
(including biting commentary
and glowing accolades).
We all come from somewhere
An interview with
Cole director Carl
Award-winning and critically acclaimed Canadian filmmaker Carl
Bessai returns to the Vancouver
International Film Festival this year
with his new film Cole. Shot primarily on location in Lytton, BC—with
some location shooting at UBC—the
film deals with the idealized, dying
small-town lifestyle, the allure of city
life and all that comes with it, and the
question of loyalty to one's self and
one's family. There is so much more
going on in the film than what can
be simplified by a tagline, including
powerfully raw performances from
the cast.
The Ubyssey sat down with Bessai
to discuss his film and some of the
issues facing Canadian cinema as a
The film utilized the town of
Lytton to tap into an authentic rural
atmosphere. Cast and crew stayed at
local motels, and explored the town
to connect with their surroundings.
"To me, the movie really started to
become interesting when we got
to Lytton," he said. "That's when it
became not just a movie anymore,
it became something more. And I
think it shows in the relationships
that people have to one another, and
to the town itself....
"I think what I responded to
positively was this idea that we all
come   from   somewhere,"   Bessai
said. "I came from Edmonton, Alberta, which is not a small town, but
compared to Vancouver or Toronto
it's kind of a little place. It was certainly a place I wanted to get the hell
out of, sort of 'go and find your life
somewhere.' And on one hand you
feel trapped by the place, but on
the other hand you realize you kind
of love the place. There's a sort of
weird 'that's what made you' [feeling], so you're a little drawn to it and
inspired by it, and that tension is in
all of us a little bit and I thought it
was quite universal."
Cole was shot with a budget under
one million, but easily holds its own
amongst productions with larger
budgets. Unlike many Canadian
films, its funding came through private sources rather than government
funding. Even with the future of government film funding in Canada still
unclear due to recent budget cuts,
Jets Overhead unplugged
Last of the Live Sessions at the Chan
Just some small town boys, living in the lonely world of Bessai's Cole, courtesy of viff
Bessai feels the outlook for Canadian
small-budget productions is positive
if they aim for a route similar to his.
"[It's] not the future, but a future
for a lot of people," he said. "There's
a price point for every movie, and
it's unsustainable to make two or
three million dollar movies that
don't sell; no one's ever going to recoup their money. Certainly, when
you have a subsidy system where
the recouping of money isn't the
number one priority, then those
kinds of films will continue to get
made. But when you're talking
about private investors and you're
talking about people risking money
on your movies, you'vegot to pay
attention to the math." v3T
Cole plays at the Granville Cinemas
as part ofthe Vancouver International
Film Festival, Thursday at 6:30pm in I
G3 and Friday at 4:15pm in G7.
Since their formation in 2003, Victoria's Jets Overhead have two studio
albums, a Juno nomination and
international radio play under their
collective belts. The Ubyssey caught
up with singer Adam Kittredge in
advance of their October 8 show at
the Chan Centre, where they will be
closing the Live Sessions series.
UBYSSEY: You've said in the past that
you were going for more of a psychedelic sound on your new record [No
Nations]. Are you highlighting that
aspect of your music?
ADAM KFTTREDGE: We wanted to
expand in multiple directions at
the same time....Maybe not necessarily [a] psychedelic so much as
atmospheric sound, and in the more
emotional, present, up close way as
So you'll hear more reverb and
more sonic textures within each
song but you'll also notice, if you
compare Bridges to No Nations, that
the vocals are single track, and closer
and mixed louder, as opposed to
Bridges where a lot of the vocals were
buried and double tracked. There's
more personality [now] and you can
really make out the words better.
U: Your first album, Bridges, was
released as "pay-whatyou-want,"
you've released the first single from
No Nations under Creative Commons, and you'll also be releasing
instrumentals under the same
licence. What are your opinions on
the industry's moves towards a more
open model?
AK: We've always found it a bit ridiculous to fight the pirating of music. It's
a losing battle. We might liken it to
the war on drugs, in a way. When we
originally did the pay-whatyou-want
model on our Bridges campaign, it
wasn't as common a concept as it is
now. A year and a half later Radio-
head did it, and blew the whole concept wide open in the media. Today
it's not as interesting and perhaps
not as original. We know people can
get our album for free anyway, so we
thought we'd embrace a more contemporary movement—the Creative
U: You'll be at UBC on October 8, playing at the Chan Centre.
AK: Yeah, that'll be an interesting
experience. We've been told we have
to play quietly. So we're going to be
turned down a bit, but that's good.
We're [also] playing Neil Young's
Bridge School Benefit Concert just
south of San Francisco in late October. Neil has two kids who have
cerebral palsy, so every year he puts
on a benefit concert and invites his
friends to perform for free at a big
amphitheatre to raise money for the
Bridge School. The artists that will be
billed are some of the biggest artists
today. The interesting thing about
Bridge is every artist has to play unplugged, or at least totally acoustic.
We're going to use this as a bit of a
warm-up to that and try and do some
different arrangements in more of
an unplugged way. tl
Preparation Seminars
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Write for the gl
that covers a
students care c
meetings at noo
orious section
II the things
ibout! Section
m on Mondays.
JBYSSEY.CA Literary Supplement- October 8, 2009 \/
Literary Supplement Coordinator: Vinnie Yuen
Graphics: Anthony Goertz
from the
Dear Readers,
In light of the coming Olympics, we
decided that the theme of this year's
literary supplement would be "Our
City: Vancouver," to showcase the
unique features of our hometown.
Although depictions of our beautiful landscape were common, the
issues of poverty and the Downtown
Eastside were reoccurring themes.
Almost a third of all submissions
referred to "a bad side of town" or a
homeless person.
The problem of poverty is not invisible, it's all around us. University
is a place for learning, and some call
it a place where well-off youngsters
hang out for four years, having a
rocking good time. However, our
campus is not immune to poverty.
How many people have you seen
collecting cans around campus? How
many (seemingly) homeless people
do you seen hanging out in the SUB?
Poverty is ever-present, even at UBC.
It's amazing that students are so
perceptive and sensitive to issues of
poverty in their submissions to The
Ubyssey Literary Contest. No matter
how hard the government tries to
clean up our streets for the Olympics,
the students of UBC will not forget
our issues of poverty and homelessness. We won't let the glamour of the
Olympics get inside our heads.
I would like to extend a big thank
you to our two wonderful judges,
both professors from the Creative
Writing Department and the English
Department. I would also like to
thank everyone who sent in a submission. I truly enjoyed reading all of
your pieces, and I am sure our readers too. Enjoy! %
—Vinnie Yuen
Ubyssey Literary
Supplement Coordinator
Vancouver's Cobalt Bar:
More than a run-down eyesore
1st Place
Author's Note: For those of you who don't know,
Vancouver's one and only Hardcore/Punk/
Metal bar, The Cobalt, was just shut down this
Wednesday. With this piece I want to pay tribute
to one of the most overlooked and misunderstood places in our city, Vancouver.
An old dilapidated building, probably the worst
kept in the block, certainly among the worst
kept in Vancouver. A weathered structure,
it's almost a century old. Its original functions
have left a legacy; a broken neon sign glaring "GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS" flickers its original
purpose with what little conviction it has left.
Bums and crack-heads drift around aimlessly
like clouds; they have no particular destination
in mind. It's a hotel that is home to Vancouver's issues. Addiction, domestic violence,
murder. However, tonight we're not interested
in looking for a place to stay. We want to listen
to some music.
You enter a dimly lit bar and see a tall fellow, probably of Turkish descent with a pony
tail and leather jacket. He grunts out the fee
and you hand him the ten bucks. The bands
must be reasonably good tonight.
Past the door, a dark room filled with concert posters and graffiti comes into view. The
room is no bigger than a large basement. To
your left is the bar with a refrigerator stocked
with cheap beer. It doesn't work either, the
beer is warm half the time. The well-known
manager of the bar, Wendy, gives you a dubious stare and nods her head in acknowledgement. She's in a good mood tonight. Hashing
red and white lights pepper the stage on the
right. They are perpetually on and blink in a
haphazard fashion.
The stage is about four feet tall, covered
in a carpet wielding stains that tell all sorts
of stories. Puke—crazy show a few days ago
when Ricky from Luciferian Conquest threw
up all over the carpet. Beer—technical difficulties when someone spilled beer onstage
and soaked the front man of Malice Plagued's
pedal board. Blood—some guy must've been
wearing spikes and hit someone onstage.
Ash—looks like Anatolian Wisdom brought out
the Pentagram and lit it on fire again.
An old fellow with a skullet goes on stage
and slowly but surely goes about micing the
amplifiers and drums onstage. His flashlight is
the brightest thing in the bar. From a distance
he looks like an investigator, combing around
a crime scene for clues, his little mag-lite the
eye sweeping the area, trying to discern what's
what among the mass of cables and switch
pedals devoid of any organization. Amazingly
enough, the man manages to piece together
the clues, and within ten minutes he hops
down the stage and goes into a hidden area in
the back. "KICK DRUM PLEASE!" Soundcheck
has begun, and the old technician works his
way through each instrument.
The show finally starts. Two people on
the floor, probably buddies of the band start
thrashing their heads. A few
more people go right in front of
the stage with beers in their right
hands and nod their heads, seem
ingly captured in a trance. Others
continue standing far away from
the stage with their hands crossed
and a look on their face that says
'that's why they're openers.' Others
are content to hang out in the back
sitting on the half-broken furniture
making small talk and sucking on beers.
Others still don't like the band at all and
go out and pass the time with a nicotine
or THC buzz.
The first act ends and we go through the
cycle once more. People shuffle out, the old
sound tech roams back on stage and mics the
incoming gear. Sound-check, then everyone's
good to go again. This band's a bit better. More
people at the front. A small mosh-pit ensues,
and the expressions on the faces ofthe onlookers are softer. The crowd's getting larger. We
continue on until the third act.
The third act is usually a well known band
in the scene. Tonight's
no exception. A large
crowd   has   gathered,
and   on   the   opening
note,  the  front  of the
stage  explodes. A large
mosh-pit is almost instantly
carved out, with people running
at breakneck speeds charging straight
into one another. Those who aren't in the
pit immediately start head-banging, and from
a certain viewpoint it looks like an ocean that
has come alive with the approach of a storm.
The thrashing heads are waves and the mosh-
pit a tsunami.
The band onstage seems to pop out like a
collection of cartoon figures. Offstage they're
just random people you passed by hardly
noticing. But now they are larger than life.
It's hard to explain what happens when a
good band goes onstage. They just seem to
just become bigger, greater than anything
you'd see offstage. It's not the lighting; the
lighting sucks. It's not the height of the stage;
a midget could climb up on it if he wanted to.
It sure as hell isn't the production value; stage
production doesn't get much fancier than a
hand-drawn banner around here. I think it's a
special kind of energy, an aura that this place
gives off. Try to figure it out and it's gone. It just
is. You can't find it in the external details ofthe
place, but there's just something about it that
gives people a kind of energy when they're on
stage. Maybe the band is just really good. To
a certain extent, that is true. But you've seen
these guys in other places, and while they did
play well, it just wasn't the same as when you
saw them here in the Cobalt. It felt different. It
sounded different. It looked different. And you
just don't know why. And that's the magic of
this place. It is often just looked upon as some
old ugly building, but until you've experienced
that certain something in it, you won't know its
true value. %
w**mm VI   Literary Supplement-October 8, 2009
Sleepin' Bo
2nd Place
A sound of beating drums, foreign yet familiar,
mixed with the urgent wailing of something
exploding in halos of red and blue and flooded
the urine-drenched side street, right off Hastings and Princess. Still annoying as hell, the
primal symphony washed through the dumpsters, past the church, came to a screeching
halt before making a sharp turn, right up Main,
where it reached light speed (still red and blue),
before bursting into whimpering gasps of
silence against the quiet phosphor of hospital
windows. The boy who would soon come to
be known as Joe Handsome or Sleeping Bo' to
the resident staff of ICU, VGH, from the cutest
of bespectacled interns to the most hardened
of head nurses, had indeed made quite an
Lucky! Didn't even know how lucky. Had
the junior officer not been in such a hurry to
relieve himself of the three grande lattes he'd
had that morning had the patrol car not happened to randomly stop at just that intersection, Lucky Louie there would now be colder
than Christmas Day in Yellowknife. The head
nurse smiled down on the pale, youthful face,
cherub lips gathered in a pout under their fluff
of yellow down, and hardly a blemish anywhere
except one small pimple below the left nostril.
Interns gathered in awe as the nurse lifted one
rose petal eyelid revealing a hole that floated
black and dilated in pools of blue iris-water, no
doubt unconscious still. Lucky Lou Prom King,
Sleepy McCharming just lying there like a half-
defrosted vegetable vacantly staring up at their
multicolored faces in shrub-colored scrubs...
Faces that floated in and out of focus like so
many flowers, just like those in the UBC Rose
Garden Dad had once taken him to see, on his
fifth birthday, after a party at the golf club.
That had been some party: one five-year-old
and not a guest under forty! It was Dad's idea,
naturally. Mom had been against it from the
start, but he had managed to convince her that
five-year-olds don't really care for birthdays
anyway, while he could always use another
networking opportunity. After the luncheon—
because the boy has started to act out, as children that age must—Dad had taken him out for
a walk. That's when the Rose Garden had come
into the picture, beautiful at that time of year,
early July, and all the roses in bloom.
The boy sped down the stairs, tugging Dad
along with him. Smiles all around. Happy birthday The rattling shopping cart, with its load of
glittering bottles, came out of nowhere.
"Reggie. Fancy seeing you here."
Dad froze with the little boy still tugging on
his sleeve. The man ofthe shopping cart, ofthe
sunburnt face and matted yellow beard, stood
in their way.
"Reg. Reggie-Reg. Nice suit you got on,"
chuckled the man, and looked down at the
boy, "Ahoy, what's that! Glad to see you still got
balls inside that penguin suit. Hey little man!
It's your Uncle Jamie! D'you know your Uncle
The boy frowned. Dad's eyes jolted up and
down the man's body, slowing down to a buzz
of hungry flies around the crook of the elbow
where purple skin stood out in between rusty
"Get away from him James," grunted Dad,
and pulled the child closer.
"You don't know about Uncle Jamie, do you,"
pursued the man, now looking at Dad, "That's
funny 'cos I know all about you. Was just on my
way up from Wreck when I heard of your big
party, little man. Didn't invite me, did you? Too
big of an embarrassment for Penguin Papa?
Never was good enough a brother, was I, Reg?"
But Dad was already walking away, dragging
the boy along.
'Justyou watch, Reg!" There was a loud crash
as an empty beer bottle flew past his ear, exploding a few steps ahead, 'Just you watch! The bad
blood I got's no better than yours or your brat's.
It's all in the family, Reg. Just you watch!"
That was the first and last the boy ever
saw of Uncle Jamie. Dad was determined he
would not just watch. Not after he'd stood and
watched what needles had done to J. He would
never let that happen to no child of his, he told
Mom that day. That's why the blue liquid eyes,
now floating unfocused, had gone all seventeen
years without seeing so much as a vaccination
needle. No child of his, he'd said. No, sir.
Wake up, Sleeping Bo', wake up! A cute bespectacled intern drummed on his arm. She
drummed just below the crook of the elbow,
where little rusty holes, like silly vampire
bites, stood out among bruises that might have
been from Softball or any other normal thing.
Normal. Whatever that was, Dad had hoped
his son would find it in St George's school for
boys where striped ties and golden cuffs were
deemed enough protection from such things as
sharp needles. Ha! The blue eyes rolled under
their rose petal eyelids. Sure enough, fifteen
had found him just as it had Uncle Jamie, lonely and angry and craving the sting of something
sharp and self-inflicted to make sense of.. .stuff.
That's when the needles found him, and along
with them, the Downtown Eastside which must
have been waiting there along, hidden in the
vaporous torpor of fast-consuming roaches,
and the thorns of half-injected heavens.
And cold. Always cold. But nothing like that
stupid Keats poem Mr. Jennings had made
them learn. No, the cold hill's side had turned
out colder and the pale kings and princes paler,
and the beldame enthralling him, much more
merciless since she had elected residence in his
bloodstream rather than on his valiant steed. A
steed he'd sold long ago, anyhow: the beldame
of the million needles was heavy on the wallet.
As soon as Dad realized what had happened, he
kicked the knight-at-arms out. Mom cried but
Dad had said no child of his, no sir.
The body in the bed didn't move. Hadn't
moved since they'd hoisted him up on the
stretcher, careful not to prick themselves on
the millions of thorns around. Not since they'd
carried him out of the alley, stepping gingerly
over hundreds of his zoned out buddies, had
Sleeping Bo' moved a muscle. Not even when,
in a fresh explosion of light particles, the doors
ofthe intensive care unit burst open, stifling for
a minute the mute stillness of phosphor.
Away sped the head nurse and her armada
of interns, scattering through the room like so
many multicolored blooms in a rose garden,
somewhere early July. "Son! Son!" Out reached
the trembling hand as the eyes scaled the
shapeless cordillera, with its hospital-sheet
cliffs and crevices extending in tubes to the
neighboring IV drip. Up, up, flying over, collecting spare parts. Feet! There. Legs! Present.
Stomach! Here. Fleeting up and over, without
even so much as a stumble, the bruised arms,
the crook of the elbow, past the little holes, invisible now, up, up, to the pale forehead. A kiss.
A first true kiss.
Peering primly out from behind Dad's
shoulder, notepad clasped to her breast, the intern registered: foreign body contact triggering
nervous response: momentary flicker of eyelid,
rose petal: patient awake. %
Without Words
3rd Place
I stood in the Downtown Eastside at the crossroads of Hastings and Main Street. I had my
hood up and my headphones on, attempting to
project an aura of ^difference, and blend in as
another anonymous figure. A repetitive swirl of
heavy mist danced through the open air, twisting and spinning violently as vehicles rushed
by. An indignant mass of grey enveloped the
sky. The faded silhouettes of the surrounding
mountains cowered behind the gang of clouds
like scared children behind a curtain. But in
this part of Vancouver, nothing was more captivating than the people roaming the streets.
They were the homeless, the discarded, the
constant reminder of human failings; kicked to
their knees by drug abuse and mental illness.
They survived in the Downtown Eastside.
Like the majority of the people near me, I
was there to catch a bus. We all crept in from
the affluence surrounding the neighbourhood,
crowded together and awaited our departure.
All around us, the disenchanted members of
our society chaotically functioned. Across the
street I watched a hollow-looking man empty
cigarette buds into a rolling paper. His black
calloused hands moved with visible purpose,
his sunken grey eyes darted back and forth
like an animal eating its prey. A skeleton of
a woman was pushing a shopping cart full of
cans, bottles, and old clothing across the street,
ignoring the oncoming traffic. Her jacket hung
on her Hke it would a coat hanger, every one of
her laboured steps a minor miracle.
A vehicle came to a stop in front of me, blocking my view. I saw my reflection in the strong
tint of its window. I looked at myself. But my
gaze was pulled to a man sitting behind me. He
was slumped against the brick wall. His knees
were pulled into his chest, his head rested on
his crossed arms. The jeans he wore were a shit
brown, the flannel jacket covering his torso was
drooling soggy cotton out of several seams. A
paper cup was placed a couple inches in front of
his large rubber boots. The bright yellow toque
he wore gave him the resemblance of a disfigured streetlamp. I waited for him to raise his
head and sink his stare into my eyes, making me
feel guilty for looking at him. But he never did.
The traffic light turned, causing a pedestrian
migration across the street. I glanced over at a
woman. She noticed and locked eyes with me,
just for an instant. Her path continued towards
me. She was middle-aged, and appeared to be a
resident ofthe neighbourhood. Her hair looked
over-bleached and was pulled back tightly. She
wore a men's denim jacket that draped nicely
on top of a navy Club Monaco sweater. Her blue
jeans were tucked into a pair of brown steel-
toes. Something about her seemed familiar.
Her face had deep, dark wrinkles that outlined
the bone structure it once displayed. There was
an intelligence that sparked with life behind
the sadness that layered her eyes. I still could
not figure out what I recognized about her.
The woman stood right across from me, facing my direction without looking at me. I knew
she would see me, but I could not stop glancing
over at her. I needed to know what about her
was triggering my memory. She reached inside
the worn out leather purse casually placed on
her shoulder and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
With an unlit cigarette suspended on her lower
lip, she struck up a conversation with a man
next to her. He extended his arm and lit her
cigarette while they continued to talk. I turned
off my music sol could hear them. I caught the
punch line of a joke. Her laugh coughed out of
her mouth as she exhaled the long, first drag of
her cigarette.
I saw it then. It was her smile. That was it, I
realized. She smiled just long enough to realize she was smiling and no longer. It was my
mom's smile. It was the smile of someone who
had life sweep them away, had lost control
somehow. And still being dragged along by
the current, she reached out, hoping someone
might grab her and hold on. I could see it all in
that fleeting smile.
"How's it goin' son?" Her voice caught me
off-guard. I realized I was staring at her. Embarrassed, I scrambled to take my headphones off.
"Good. I'm good thanks," I said with an over-
friendly tone. "How Tjoutyou?"
'Just fine. I mean this rain is really fucking
shit, but what canya do?"
I nodded my head in agreement. She took
another long drag and gracefully blew the
smoke between her parted lips in a manner
that made her seem classy and feminine, despite her attire. Hearing her swear reminded
me of the vast difference there was between
herself and my mom. I could only imagine the
twists and turns this woman's life had taken to
land her in the position she was now. She had
a confident vertical stance, like someone who
had once been beautiful. Maybe she had been
the arm candy for a wealthy man, escorting
him to parties and living the easy life that only
someone with beauty can live. He could handle
the drugs, she couldn't. She became addicted;
he started sticking his dick in someone else.
Maybe she was raised in dysfunction or poverty. Maybe she just made some poor choices.
"So what d'ya do sweetheart?" She said.
"I'm a student."
"Well good for you. I really loved school
when I was younger."
I did not respond. I was not really sure what
to say. This woman made me feel uneasy and
comfortable at the same time. But I only felt
uneasy because ofthe comfort she gave me.
She seemed genuine.
"Hey Patti!" A scruffy man walking past called.
The woman I was speaking to turned towards
him. "Patti, baby, when are ya gonna marry me?"
She smiled for a second time. "The day I win
the lottery sweetheart!"
I watched the smile linger on her face as it
created creases in her cheeks. She turned back
towards me, the lines from the smile disappeared into the more serious positions her
face was accustomed to. She pulled out another
cigarette, lighting it with the ember of the one
she just finished. I could tell she wanted to say
something more to me, to anyone. I felt like a
snob for not saying something back to her, but I
did not know what to say. All I could think about
was that smile on her face and how if things
had gone differently that it could be my mom
standing here and not some lady named Patti.
And for that instant, I felt love for this woman.
Not because of who she was but because she
could have been anyone.
The bus came roaring through the intersection with a trail of mist followed close behind.
I gave Patti a subtle nod and started to take my
place in line.
"Hey son, d'ya got some change for the bus?"
"No," I lied. "I'm sorry." %. Literary Supplement-October 8, 2009 VII
How to get high in Vancouver-
Runner Up
There is a sequoia tree in Vancouver whose
branches are like the arms and legs of all
my friends. About thirty feet up, it has a
huge hammock and a pair of swings. These
replaced a previous pair of swings made by
kids from Van Tech, which were removed for
reasons that I won't get into. The hammock
and swings are not even halfway up the tree.
For people like us, the tree is perfect for
everything from first dates, to watching the
fireworks, to drinking beer with a bunch of
friends. It's not just my favourite tree. It is my
favourite spot in my very favourite city in the
whole wide world. That's why my friends and
I just call it the tree.
Climbing the tree is so easy thatyou forget
how high you're going until the trunk gets
narrow, and the branches get thin and short,
and finally your head is poking out into the
open air. You and the tree are swaying madly
in the wind, and the city slaps you in the
face—the Georgia Strait, Cypress Mountain,
English Bay, Stanley Park, Downtown, the
Creek, the Burrard Inlet, the Lions, Capitol
Hill, Burnaby Mountain...
If you can figure out which tree is the tree,
and you climb it up to that point, look up another five feet, and you'll be staring at the site
of my first acid trip.
I was in my friend Chris's apartment on
a warm summer night, with his girlfriend,
and my girl, Audrey. We were drinking beer
and passing around a little sheet of blue card
stock with funny astrological symbols all over
it. Chris had just picked it up, and he had
tried it earlier that week. I'd been waiting for
a chance to drop acid since I was sixteen.
"Shits pretty crazy. But it's already midnight," said Chris. "You don't want to do it
now, or you'll be up till tomorrow afternoon."
Audrey agreed. She looked nervous. She had
done enough acid already in her life and
wasn't looking forward to doing more. But
she didn't want me doing it alone.
"I don't care," I said. "I've been waiting for
this for years, and I don't have shit to do tomorrow." So I bought four hits—some for that
night and some for another night. Audrey
and I took one each and started walking.
I was still straight when Audrey started losing it. The city lights reflecting off the clouds
cast a purple shade over the trees and flowers
in the Queen E quarry garden. And as I looked
into her eyes dilating into the waterfall, my
jealous heart sank.
"What's it like?" I asked.
"You're not high yet?"
"No, and it's been forever. I feel like this
isn't gonna work."
"I'm so high," she giggled. "I'm gonna
climb up on that big, glass dome."
"You're not doing that. People fall through
that thing all the time. Imagine breaking your
leg on acid." I took the last two hits before
I went after her. After I dragged her off the
conservatory, I tried to fool around with her,
and she wrenched away.
"No way. Too weird," she said.
"Alright," I sighed, "let's have a change of
We were going to pass the tree on the
way home, and Audrey suggested we climb
it. When we got to the base of it, we heard a
rustling and grabbed each other's hands as
we stepped back.
Oh my God, what the fuck is that? I thought.
The needles and branches became a swirling mass, and out ran a skunk the size of a
bear across the street and into another bush.
That's when I realized I was higher than a
moon man in a hot air balloon.
I know people always exaggerate the size
of animals they see, and I know acid plays
hide and seek with the accuracy of a person's perceptions. But that skunk really was
twice the size of the biggest skunk I ever saw
before that. And I've seen big skunks. I like
the smell of skunks. It reminds me of Vancouver in the summertime. But I like it in
the distance. That fleeing skunk scared the
shit out of me.
The nice thing about fled skunks is they
don't leave raccoons or people behind them.
So into the tree we went. Audrey felt satisfied
about fifteen feet up, but she encouraged me
to keep going if I wanted. After another ten
feet, I wrapped both my arms around a soft,
curved branch, and it was my friend's leg.
"Greg?" I whispered. I looked down. The
branches were twisting, swaying, spindling
around and about one another. India ink
flowing down a page. Spider's legs repairing
a web. "Holy shit."
I climbed back down to Audrey.
"How high did you go?" she asked.
"Not very. It got weird."
"Quit being such a baby," she giggled.
So up I went again, ready this time to deal
bravely with whatever happened. Ready to
climb as high as I could get. And I got so, so,
so high.
As the sun rose on our twinkling skyline,
the city really came to life.
There are giant monsters everywhere, I
thought. Maybe I said it out loud.
Runner Up
I am surrounded
by the salty embrace ofthe Pacific-
tempestuous lover.
Swaying; mimicking
my own rivers and streams.
Vein-housed rusty oceans
pulsing up and down,
shoulder to fingertips-
rushing; roaring.
A beautiful pilgrimage-
Vancouver words
have found a welcome home
nestled in the light bones and tendons
threading my narrow and creased wrists.
City of quiet requests
memorized and repeated
in throaty half-whispers.
We want health, warmth.
And clean parks to stretch out our tired bodies in,
City, your voice is welcome in my bones. %
BC Place inched along like a caterpillar;
the Wall Centre stepped teeteringly down
Burrard Street; the Harbour Centre twirled
around before popping off its revolving-restaurant-head like a wind-up helicopter;
Science World waddled. And they were
all covered in climbing tree demons
who came down from the North Shore
mountains to join the party.
Holy fucking shit! Is this real?
About eighty feet up, my arms
and legs were wrapped around
the tree's trunk—skinnier at this
height than Audrey's waist. It
swayed and swayed me.
Oh Christ, are you coming
to life?
When I finally started
climbing down, it was broad
daylight. The branches were
still moving more than they
should have been. And it
started to seem like I was going down a different way than
I'd come up.
How did I get lost in the tree?
I had to stop in the hammock for a minute to remember that climbing down a tree
will always lead you to the
same place. Trees are unlike
mountains that way.
These branches can slither
around as much as they like.
This tree: I'm gonna get to
the bottom of it like Sherlock
Holmes. And Audrey's gonna
be there waiting for me, and
we're gonna go back to our
apartment where our records are waiting for us.
So chill out, Mike.
When I got to the
bottom,     Audrey
was crying
because she
thought I'd disappeared. For
a little while, I
guess I kind of
did. Part of me
will always be
into that tree. If
I die, scatter my
ashes from the
highest branch
you can climb
to, "* Literary Supplement-October 8, 2009
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The Emission Coffer.
The issues of sustainability, climate change and energy conservation affect us all. And at BC Hydro,
we believe the agents of change for tomorrow are the youth of today. So, ifyou're between 13 and 24
and have ideas about energy sustainability, we want to hear them in an essay or video. You could win
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Are you interested in learning more
about the job of an editor? volunteer
to coordinate one of our upcoming
supplements! Examples of regular Ubyssey
supplements include Media/Democracy,
First Nations/Aboriginal, Satire Rant, Pride,
Colours and the Women s Issue.
Contact feedback@ubyssey.ca for more info
Your City: Vancouver
Runner Up
The Lonely Planet Guide has two pictures of Vancouver city on its cover.
One is a flaming orange sunset, the
likes of which would shame any
fake cowboy-riding-into-fake-sun-
set-whOe-loving-life (and not dying
of lung cancer because that would
defeat the purpose) cigarette ad. The
other, to provide artistic contrast, is
a pure shot of the city in blue light
with majestic mountains behind it.
Both pictures embrace the image of
It also laughs in the face of the
idea that there are such things as
rain clouds.
And cue my first picture of Vancouver—taken from the plane as we
slowly descended after a very, very
long plane ride from Indonesia. It
is said that pictures can convey a
thousand words, but I'm pretty sure
that my picture would convey about
nine. I Thought You Said There Was
A City Here. Well, I was pretty sure
there had to be one somewhere because through the rain and the grey
clouds the pilot was (hopefully) being told where to land. On the other
hand, where was my orange sunset?? I WANT MY ORANGE SUNSET!
This was not part of the plan when
I accepted the offer to move from
a bright, tropical island to North
America for university.
If you've ever tried to navigate
around Vancouver Airport whilst
jetlagged and dragging half your
wardrobe in a suitcase, you'll realize
a profound life truth: airport authorities hate you. It only took about half
an hour to figure out where the rental
cars were. Luckily the nice Canadian
man behind the counter offered for
only 12 dollars a handy GPS for finding the inn in Kitsilano.
"Please continue down West
"Where is West Broadway? We're
on East 12 Avenue!"
"Take a right on upcoming turn-
Waterloo Street."
We took a right.
"Continue for 12 meters. DING
DONG! You have ARRIVED!"
We were at a gas station.
From all this perhaps it's easy to
tell that once I was inside my room,
all I could do was curl into a tired ball
and watch a new reality show about
Canadian lumberjacks and their daily
lives and dramas (what weird culture
had I stumbled into???) which included having to pick up their five year old
from school even though they had to
cut down 30 trees before tonight! At
first I shook my head in bewilderment, but then slowly I started to
appreciate the struggle ofthe lumberjack, and the sweetness of Canadian
television compared to the regular
shoot-em-up stuff. So I stepped outside to give it a second chance.
I learned a lot that day. The animals here, by some strange twist of
nature, seem to obey the traffic laws.
I saw a raccoon cross on the pedestrian walkway, and a squirrel scurrying
along decorously on the sidewalk.
Also, a pigeon (I'm not kidding) got
onto the bus and got off at the next
stop. I also learnt that you should
never try to eat later than 9pm—
most restaurants will be closed. Tim
Hortons is open all night...but is also
so cold that by the time you get your
chili, you're too cold to do more than
shiver and spill it. Also, Tim Hortons
sandwiches are the bomb. And no,
they didn't pay me to write that.
Vancouver, I discovered, is more
than rain. Well, it's partially about
rain. In fact I'd say rain is pretty important. But so is friendliness—stepping on a stranger's foot and him
apologizing. Going into a tiny restaurant at 11pm when you get lost and
discovering a little Vietnamese family restaurant where a tiny Asian boy
translates your orders from English
to Vietnamese to his mother, who
then tells you '15 minutes'...and an
hour later, when you get your food,
it really tastes like Asia. Driving past
a hippy getting arrested and laughing about it, smoke curling round
his happy head. Writing and telling
your parents happily that Vancouver
is sunny after all (oh ignorant innocence). And finally, when I stepped
onto the beach at Stanley Park, I saw
my first orange sunset. If anything,
the Lonely Planet pictures don't do
this city justice. %
Runner Up
Born with double-sided, double-vision, I had always seen the streets
differently. Stretched and heaving concrete spread, headlong, gaping towards
ocean. The same ocean that marches murky water, sits now, occluding
full-browed horizon. I can see it all from the turning sky.
Faces always appeared to me glass-paned, truncated and skewed. I was diagnosed late-in-life by pale-faced doctors with what they called face blindness.
And when I asked politely what this meant (Proso-pag-nosia). They said,
You will see eye, nose, mouth, jaw, bent-doubled in
Lockstep, but never the whole of it. Faces are
Inorganic to you. They're simply not there.
I walked away.
I walked northward, down narrow bridges, under sibylline screens, down
Cambie, Broadway, Granville. I looked and saw person, streetcar, building.
And the tall ones, the skyscraping, glass-cased human ones shook me.
I looked away.
I turned sordid eye to unburnt sphere, stared tragically at the yellow, spread
shaking against bluesky. And I gazed back, focused fiercely on my walk.
Surf-silt rippled along, in that white absence
That lingers
After staring at the sun.
As I breathed in calloused wind, lost sight of taxicabs, cyclists, and storefront
glass cases, I saw each as each,
People as skyscrapers
Skyscrapers as people.
And looked back down to sidewalk, caught heaving pavement on my tongue,
and felt it melt languidly
Because my city remains a fragmented memory, caught in the same restraint
that ceases my mind,
When I think of face, see face, beckon face.
My city remains a memory, still filthy at 3am, perched placidly hours before
the street cleaners come in morning.
And so it remains.
-September, 2009: 2009.10.08/UBYSSEY.CA/CULTURE/9
Poets go animal at
Cafe Deux Soleils
Animal suits at the Cafe Deux Soleils poetry slam, anthony goertz graphic/the ubyssey
It's just another Monday night
poetry slam at Cafe Deux Soleils
on Commercial Drive. Our Master
of Ceremonies for the night is RC
Weslowski, a jovial fellow clad in a
gorilla suit. He goes on stage and begins whipping the passive audience
into an excited frenzy.
In tonight's slam, three poets
compete, each taking turns to recite
their poetry in segments lasting
just over three minutes long. Five
groups in the crowd are randomly
selected to judge, giving each poem
a score out of ten. An un-judged feature performance is given by a seasoned veteran of the poetry scene,
which is then followed by the final
rounds of the slam.
Our gorilla suit-clad host insists
that the judges need practice to
effectively use cold numbers to
evaluate the raw expression of the
human soul. "But first, we need a
sacrifice!" he says. To this end John
McCrae—a good natured fellow with
plans to start a poetry slam club at
UBC—performs a hilarious tribute
to Lower Mainland public transportation. The whole crowd is caught up
in laughter. The scores are high, and
the sacrifice has served his purpose
"But first, we need a
—RC Weslowski
This night is youth night at the Cafe
Deux Soleils, and the three young
contestants, Yeda, Zandra and Ka-
trina, are there to strut their stuff.
What they lack in stage presence,
they make up with the honesty of
their performances.
Yeda's strongest performances
are about the love life of a lesbian,
and the plight of the local sex trade
workers. Zandra's performance, on
the other hand, is characterized by
stunning imagery. Sadly she has
only written one poem for the slam,
and is ruled out of the contest. The
crowd encourages her to be more
confident in her interest and tells
her to write more. It's Katrina that
wins the poetry slam. Her strongest
poetry encompasses themes of inner struggle, much of it focusing on
nurturing her better nature.
Morris Stegosaurus, who unassumingly creeps up onstage wearing a
ridiculous bunny costume, is the
feature performance of the night.
His presence is felt by everyone as he
strikes an odd pose. Silence.
Suddenly he erupts into striking
narratives that amuse, shock and
challenge the audience. Some of his
material is uproariously funny in
its vulgarity and wit: what to do in a
plane crash, expressions of love to a
disfigured prostitute, and spiraling
penises, among other things. His
gestures, vocal inflections and presence pull the audience into his world
for the time he is on stage.
During the breaks I catch up with
several regulars and ask them to
give their thoughts on poetry slams.
These folks include the beloved
gorilla-suit wearing host, who introduced himself as RC Weslowski, the
sacrifice, John McCrae, and feature
act Morris Stegosaurus.
RC Weslowski says that a good
slam is defined by the fact that "the
poets and audience members are
meeting on equal territory."
Morris Stegosaurus says that
slams "make people excited [about
poetry] in a way they otherwise
wouldn't be," and provide an occasion for expanding one's perceptions. The underlying theme surrounding this culture is the sense of
community that arises when people
are allowed to express themselves
with total freedom." vii
Catch the Poetry Slam every Monday
at Cafe Deux Soleils, 2096 Commercial Drive. Open Mic at 8pm, Slam
at 9pm Also, be on the lookout for
"Speak Up" (working name), John
McCrae's Poetry Slam Club coming to
"The underlying
theme surrounding
this culture is the
sense of community
that arises when
people are allowed to
express themselves
with total freedom."
—Morris Stegosaurus
ubyssey shameless giveaway
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WORK"  workplaces
VlUDA.-  2008
Day onef
and you're giving back
Day one and your job is more than a job. It's an opportunity to do
your part. That's why Ernst & Young opens up lots of ways to make
a difference. So you can feel good about our green workplace,
tutor grade school students or get involved with our entrepreneur
network. You can even find a cause on our company volunteer
match site. And that makes coming to work even better.
Explore your career options in assurance, tax, transaction o.
advisory services.
What's next for your future?
To learn more, visit ey.com/ca/careers and find us on Facebook.
=U Ernst &Young
Quality In Everything We Do
Want to interview people moderately more famous
than you and expose them as the empty, detestable
shills that they really are?
Write for
Erudite Readership,
Too Sexy here, hoping that you're
making the most of these longer
and longer nights. We've got two
big, sexy holidays coming up this
month. Of course, there's Halloween, most debauched of all
holidays, even though it's not technically a holiday at all. But just as
significant is a holiday some of you
may not be aware of: the Turkey
Dump. The Turkey Dump is an
annual time of celebration across
campus (and especially in Res)
as first-years go home and dump
their high school sweethearts in
hopes of freeing themselves up
for that special boy/girl/TA. So, on
that note, we'd like to wish you all
a happy Turkey Dump. Now, onto
this week's letter.
with me five days a week. One day,
he invited me to a party at his place.
Even though I had only just learned
his name, I dropped by after work
that night. He proceeded to get me
ridiculously wasted, and throughout the night, when talking to his
friends, they mentioned something
about him having a girlfriend. Near
the end of the night, he kicked out
all his friends and we slept together. Before we did so, I asked him
whether he had a girlfriend. He
said no. So we had fantastic sex.
At the end of our romp, I asked
him to confirm that he didn't have
a girlfriend. He replied with, "Well,
I would call girlfriend and life
partner different things." I was too
drunk to get properly upset with
For the next few weeks, he and
I conversed in class like normal.
I decided that the sex was so fantastic and that he was making such
an effort to talk to me all the time
that maybe, somehow, he had broken up with his girlfriend. He and
I decided to get a hotel room to get
it on again, and at the end, I casually asked him whether he would
be having another party soon. He
replied with, "No! Absolutely not."
Of course, I was curious as to why,
at which point he said, "You didn't
know the reason why I was having
the party in the first place?" No,
I replied. "Well," he said, "it was
to celebrate the fact that my girlfriend just got pregnant with our
first child."
I will be in class with this
douchebag until April, and he's
trying to pretend like nothing is
wrong. What to do? I know how to
contact his girlfriend.
—Accidentally Slutty Student
Wow, ASS, sounds like you've
landed yourself in quite the pickle.
We'll unpack the situation in a bit,
but first we want to ask a question:
Are you sure his girlfriend doesn't
already know that he's sleeping
around? It's possible you may
have stumbled into an open relationship without realizing it. For
the rest of the article, we'll assume
he's a cheating shit, but before
you take any leaps, make sure you
look, eh?
First off, let's recognize thatyou
are (through barely any fault of
your own) playing with matches in
a pool of gasoline. The first thing
on your To-Do list should be to
stop sleeping with this guy. Fantastic sex comes in many shapes,
sizes and levels of douchiness. You
can find ways to have the great
sex without the big loser. If worse
comes to worst, there's always
Wednesdays at the Pit.
Secondary concerns include
whether or not this guy might
freak out at you for telling on him.
If you're stuck with him five days
a week until April, then having
him burst a boy-bubble over this
could have a serious effect on
your year. We barely make it to
classes five days a week as it is.
Will dealing with a jerk-turkey like
this guy make you less likely to
show up?
Then, of course, there's the kid
issue. Since buddy here seems to
have made an unwise withdrawal
from the baby bank, you're left
with the knowledge that blowing
his infidelities to the girlfriend
might result in this kid not being
close to, or even knowing, his
father. You may also feel like this
doesn't have to be your business,
and be tempted to walk away.
In the end however, it's important to realize that, no matter
what you do, you're not the cause
of negativity in this situation. But
you do have an obligation to do
the right thing. If you hadn't been
around, he would have cheated
with someone else. The guy you
slept with was a slime ball. In the
future, he will continue to be a
slime ball. The girlfriend needs to
know before she ends up getting
slimed again. By letting her know
now, you're saving her a greater
pain later.
Well, luminous readership,
that's it for this week. Send your
sexy questions, comments, rants,
and other word-type things to
toosexy@ubyssevxa. In the mean
time, stay sexy. tit
Have you seen any of the VIFF films?
Kelly Mulder
"I am going on
Sundaylo Yield....
It's a series of
shorts made by
Canadian directors. So there are
a whole bunch of
them and they're
all between 5 and
20 minutes."
Yuhan Cheng
Education 1
"I have not yet
been to any of
the fims....[l'd go] if
there is one that I
want to see."
Molly Mew
"I've not been to
any.J think I'd be
interested if I saw
a flier or preview
Jorge Amigo
Poli Sd MA
"I saw a fantastic
called Encirclement about
neo-liberalism and
very good. And I
saw a film called
Fac^terrible, the
costumes are
great.but everything else was
terrible. And I saw
a really good one
yesterday called
BreatNess by a
South Korean film
-Coordinated by Tara Martellaro with photos by Chibwe Mweene
Laurie Tritschler
History 3
"I don't remember
what it's called....As
far as I know, it's
about some guy
in the SS who
sets up shop in
the part of China
that the Japanese
had occupied during World War ll.Jt
was suggested to
me by a student....
It sounds like it
may be a bit of a
THE    TEAR    IS      2 1 l_2.
Make us care, AUS
Last week, the biggest student group on campus that isn'tyour student
union had an election. Didn't notice? Neither did anyone else. The Arts
Undergraduate Society (AUS) election results, as far as we can tell, have thus
far only been posted as a thread topic on the "Arts UBC" Facebook group.
Apparently putting the information on their website would be too much to
ask. And out of more than 11,000 students, only 440 voted. Only one person
ran for social coordinator, only one person ran for promotions coordinator,
and by the end of the election, there were only two people running for the
two AMS Council seats. Whether this is due to poor advertising or apathetic
students, we're not quite sure, but a lack of competition for important positions is never a good thing. Especially because ever since the much-loved
Arts County Fair (ACF) day-long concert was cancelled two years ago, the AUS
hasn't gotten up to much of anything.
Ordinarily, if a student group isn't doing their job, we'd be inclined to say,
"tough luck." Some groups are well-run, some aren't. But it's different with
the AUS. For one thing, they're the biggest undergraduate group on campus.
More importantly, this spring AMS Council gave $3 5,000 of your student
fees to the AUS to relieve them of the debt they had accumulated from
running ACF. They claimed that the debt had made it impossible for them
to provide much of anything to Arts students, and that the money would
allow them to start pulling their weight on campus again. Well, it's been five
months since that decision, and we're still waiting.
They may be loud, proud and taking up half the crowd, but when it actually comes to having their presence seen on campus, Arts definitely does not
kick ass. And maybe we just remember the days of ACF, or maybe it's just
because the majority of Ubyssey editors are Arts students. But regardless, a
11,000 strong student organization that gets $ 13 from each member should
be able to do a little bit more than the AUS is doing right now. tl
'' Help campus develop
In the last few years, we've seen endless fighting over development on
campus. There have been protests where people have been arrested, endless
demonstrations and marches, and plenty of pontification over what this
campus should be.
Amid all of this, a coherent discussion between students and administration seems to have gone missing. The consultation processes have been
hidden. We get nothing but double talk from both the university and the
AMS. There's a senior-oriented housing development on the southern edge
of campus.
So now is the time to do something. If you remember Trek 2010, well, forget about it. That's done. UBC is now a "place of mind." Whatever that means.
What will that place look like? UBC is officially in "Stage 5" of the "Campus
Plan," as you might know if you've gazed at the clock tower recently. You've
got until October 22 to "get in on the plan." But what to say?
Do you care about the farm? Although the university states that the farm will
not be developed if the campus' needs are met, why not try to solidify that?
Do you care about student housing? The guide states that they plan on
accommodating 50 per cent of full-time students on campus, increasing the
number of beds by 8000. Is that enough?
Do you care about campus demographics? They say explicitly that they
plan to increase the number of full-time equivalent students by 300 in the
next seven years while adding 7500 graduate students. Does this mean there
is going to be less of a focus on undergrads in planning?
The point is, students can have an impact on development on this
campus. The uproar from students—and the subsequent about-face by the
university—over the proposed hospice next to Place Vanier showed that. But
it requires you to actually show up. fill out a form, and develop a coherent
opinion. So get your voice heard, vl w^
CD >^ I^J >^v CZ3 >^
I—II H     I      AfP*^
^ ' a J
Tirez le maximum de votre argent
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gratuits et nos publications peuvent vous aider a
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