My IVC adventure, alone, with Pogues playin' in my head

I've been told that one of our Schools will soon be moving to "new classrooms," namely, the spankin' new (and brown & butt ugly) A500 temps, which have been dropped inelegantly along the pathway between the Library and PE—at the corner of the massive Theater construction zone.

Is that bad? Well, no. But given the ceaseless facilities and maintenance SNAFUery of recent months, don't be surprised if the School's equipment is accidentally buried in a pit or sent to China.


Recently, a went to the cafeteria to get a cup of coffee, and while I was pouring, Wayne (of Facilities & Maintenance) and Owen (the similarly esteemed IVC Top Cop) walked up. For some reason, Wayne thought I was Greenhouse Jeff, and so he asked me some questions about the "new greenhouse."

A new greenhouse? You know what happened to the old one. Workers cut off the electricity and killed the plants. That's not surprising. Such events are perfectly normal. Did I mention that I've got a pet mouse in the fetid tarn under my desk? (Leave that varmint alone, I like 'im.)

So I guess they've decided to set up a new greenhouse. That's way cool! Today, I ventured in the blazing midday sun to the east end of campus, hoping to take snaps of anything interesting along the way, and, sure enough, I came across what appears to be a new greenhouse:

Well, it looks pretty good, although the bio people had better get used to the hike. Most of 'em could use the exercise. Students might feel differently.

Here's the interior:

I decided to continue to the furthest end of campus, which is pretty far, 'cause IVC doesn't just sit there like a big rectangle along Irvine Center Drive. No, part of it continues way behind an apartment complex, heading to the fuzzy golden hills. Man, I was WAY out there. I was on a frontier adventure.

Finally, I got to an ugly brown (why always brown?) building at the edge of campus. I think I saw some bats. I heard snoring.

All colleges have their unfortunate little incidents involving scary people—usually students, sometimes administrators—and IVC is no exception, especially lately. Last week, some middle-aged guy started sending some seriously peevish—and genuinely disconcerting—emails to...—well, I won't go into it. I think they're still trying to throw a net over the guy, and I don't want to mess that up.

So, at IVC, it's good to have cops nearby, especially these days. Now, I don't mean to complain, but IVC's campus police office isn't exactly nearby. It's about as far from potential troublemakers as it could possibly be. That would be OK if we had effective communication, but, at IVC, we're still using strings and cans.

I took a picture to try to convey the police office's distance from the main part of campus, but, owing to the wide lense I used, I don't think it came off:

See those trees in the middle? The enormous crane—it's huge!—being used to put together the Leggos that make up the new Theater complex is that little bent stick just to the left. See how small it is?

Since I was already in Frontier Land, I decided to check out the baseball fields and whatnot that they've got out there:

You can just make out the ball players, if you've got your magnifying glass. Here's another shot:


Let's face it. Baseball is way cool. I think I'll come back here again.

What, you may ask, has any of this to do with the Pogues, that wonderful band of Irish ne'er-do-wells who yelped and caroused their way into oblivion a full twenty years ago? Well, nothing, I guess, except that, lately, Rebel Girl has been troubled by recent campus events, and so she's somehow decided to ensconce herself in Poguetry. She's pulled out all her old Pogues albums, which she plays very loudly in the canyon. I can hear their caterwauling over the phone.

Well, I've got Pogue memories too. Naturally, one of the Pogues' songs has been playing in my head, and it's a damn good one. If you don't know the Pogues, well, you should. There's something about these Irishmen. They really get to you. My family's German. They start singing, and you just want to leave the room. Or start marching.

A PAIR OF BROWN EYES

One summer evening drunk to hell
I stood there nearly lifeless
An old man in the corner sang
Where the water lilies grow
And on the jukebox Johnny sang
About a thing called love
And it's how are you kid and what's your name
And how would you bloody know?

In blood and death 'neath a screaming sky
I lay down on the ground
And the arms and legs of other men
Were scattered all around
Some cursed, some prayed, some prayed then cursed
Then prayed and bled some more
And the only thing that I could see
Was a pair of brown eyes that was looking at me
But when we got back, labeled parts one to three
There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me

And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go
For a pair of brown eyes

I looked at him he looked at me
All I could do was hate him
While ray and philomena sang
Of my elusive dream
I saw the streams, the rolling hills
Where his brown eyes were waiting
And I thought about a pair of brown eyes
That waited once for me
So drunk to hell I left the place
Sometimes crawling sometimes walking

A hungry sound came across the breeze
So I gave the walls a talking
And I heard the sounds of long ago
From the old canal
And the birds were whistling in the trees
Where the wind was gently laughing

And a rovin' a rovin' a rovin' I'll go
For a pair of brown eyes