Later on we'll conspire
Since the CPR Railway was purchased by an American Company, we no longer enjoy a free cup of coffee compliments of the Crown…but thankfully we may purchase a $9 coffee voucher card, which allows us 6 cups; a savings of $3 given that each cup is regularly $2. So I sit on a stalled train with a steaming cup of savings and stare out into the still Ontario wilderness. There is a small cabin beside the tracks up ahead; it is off-white stucco and green venetian blinds. Two spruce trees planted in the exposure of what they have deemed a front lawn seem to represent some notion of what a proper lawn should be, despite changes in periphery from neighboring stuccoed houses to pillars of treescape. As the train begins to move once again I see that this house is set on the edge of a vast, snow covered lake. It is not isolate as I had suspected, though the others that follow with their rusty barbeques, wood piles and lob-sided doghouses, are openly adorned with satellite dishes that assert perhaps that my initial notion was correct.
I’ve been reviewing Jerrald Levinson’s philosophical ponderings on music as concatenation, which I had assumed would yield a paper furiously criticizing his lack of insight. Contrarily, the man has managed to convince me of his part in less than 50 pages, and I’m no longer certain what my 400 level Cognitive Science research course paper- the one I gradually convinced the powers that be at McGill that they should let me write despite not having the proper background- will be about.
“Prof. Levinson’s insights are poignant and well-conveyed. His argument is convincing and unquestionably correct.”
And then I would go on to dedicate the paper to the fine owners of VIA Rail, whose coffee inspired creative thought and attendance to all the possibilities which Levinson’s book laid out for me, and also whose unhappy workers (I know they lament the good old days- they told me secretly in the train kitchen) emphasize that though the running scenery is a temporal artistic experience as Levinson’s concatenationism in music does too contest, it does not in fact matter that the acting Canadianesse in that run-by is facilitated by a transportation system that is not illustrative of such.
I’ve been reviewing Jerrald Levinson’s philosophical ponderings on music as concatenation, which I had assumed would yield a paper furiously criticizing his lack of insight. Contrarily, the man has managed to convince me of his part in less than 50 pages, and I’m no longer certain what my 400 level Cognitive Science research course paper- the one I gradually convinced the powers that be at McGill that they should let me write despite not having the proper background- will be about.
“Prof. Levinson’s insights are poignant and well-conveyed. His argument is convincing and unquestionably correct.”
And then I would go on to dedicate the paper to the fine owners of VIA Rail, whose coffee inspired creative thought and attendance to all the possibilities which Levinson’s book laid out for me, and also whose unhappy workers (I know they lament the good old days- they told me secretly in the train kitchen) emphasize that though the running scenery is a temporal artistic experience as Levinson’s concatenationism in music does too contest, it does not in fact matter that the acting Canadianesse in that run-by is facilitated by a transportation system that is not illustrative of such.