Skipped out on work today due to rain rain rain horrible spitting rain. Gardening in the rain? No. Instead I slept in (naughty boy) and accompanied J. to UVic where we drank coffee, read newspapers and trashy magazines, ate Union Egg Muffins and doted around chatting to the fucks who work there.
Last night J. and I watched "What's New Pussycat?" and "Wildman Blues," two Woddy Allen movies. The first one was his first movie, which was hillarious until the final act, where it got a little too zany. The latter film was the documentary about his New Orleans Jazz Band tour across Europe. Allen is a spoiled whiner. Cute wife, though. I think Soon-Yin and Allen's manager get a kick out of bossing him around, making him do things he doesn't want to do. The music was good though. Crude, as they say.
The past week has been strange. Feeling myself coming back to normal, the hysteria of Van Life (as opposed to Park Life) gone in the way of basement suite and gardening my own garden for once in my life. I really hate the idea of going back to work. But it must be done. I've been googling my name again, a vanity I feel comfortable sharing.
I'm currently reading "The Vanity of Dulouz" by Jack Kerouac. It's a memoir type thing, which is very well written. Canadians are very anal when it comes to non-fiction. Kerouac, for example, spells doesn't doesnt. No apostrophes. Why? Who knows, who cares. Why should a few dozen apostrophes get in the way of a good read? The voice is very present, and he has a way of writing with descriptive life and a laissez-faire attitude towards authority, which is important. You can't let authority get in the way of what you want to accomplish, unless you want to walk in the ranks. File in and complain about the weather for the rest of your life.
The plan in the meantime is to work as soon it gets sunny, and truck up to the Mox for the weekend to chill out with the parental unit.
The other night I dreamed of people who are close to me who are either dead or dying with protective family members swooping around. . .
Posted by matty-b at June 27, 2005 12:58 PMI liked that book, though I found it distressing that Kerouac was such a big football star.
Posted by: Joy at June 27, 2005 1:11 PMThe football thing didn't last too long. He got fed up with the politics of coachs taking money from parents so as to have their children play.
America, fuck yeah! Coming to save the mother-fucking day yeah!
Fuck you you fucking fuck.
tee-hee.
Posted by: One of the fucks who works there at June 27, 2005 6:24 PM