Cramped in the back of the cab in R.'s truck on the way home. I let one go. Seconds later windows are rolled down and two men are leaning out the window, coughing, saying, "Let's give M. a ride home! What kind of idea -- oh shit that's a nine-out-of-ten -- I've let out a couple of tens -- Had the smell lingered once the windows were down, yours would've been a ten, M."
Stopped at the old place to collect mail. I got a cheque for $9.79 from the Globe and Mail, and a bunch of mail from the bank -- fuck the bank! The old place is now newly renovated. A new patio, a new kitchen filled with appliances that I uncrate, new space, new bathroom. Smaller than before. Family expanding in size and noise equals quiet room for adults.
Ass so itchy I took the bus the rest of the way home -- I shit you not. Plan to go out and chill with a few bevvies, provided I mic the right instrument.
Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you're cool, fuck you.
Dealing with appliances still invades me in particular ways. Fridges belong in kitchens, not strewn through the yard. Today I labelled and dealt with 24 microwaves stacked into one nice, cardboard, cube. Always more.
Bike is in the shop. Mid-way through a drunken cycle home, my rear tire gave out. Today I got a ride home. We each drank two Kokanees on the way. Ate chips. Listened to comedy MP3s.
Now in the mood for more beer, but no one to share with. The girl is at work until late. More of the same later.
A brutal, drunken, bike ride home last night around 2 a.m. My wheel fucked itself and it rode against my frame the entire, mostly uphill, ride home. You know that episode of the The Simpsons where Bart has to help Prinicple Skinner out with the telescope at 4 a.m.? Bart has the generator attached to his bike so as to power a light attached to the front. The generator creates so much drag that lil ol' Bart has a helluva time getting to where he's going.
Glad to see that my evil google entry has fallen away into the ether, and the new, happier, less pompous version lights up near the top of the google search. It may be too late. Some wiley scenester may be plotting the destruction of my popularity as we speak.
I have the day off today. It's a day off where I have to spend time and money fixing my bike which I need for work. I get Wednesdays and Sundays off, which makes me sort of always at work, as I don't get that extra buffer day where I can feel like myself for 24 hours before plodding back to my idiot smile and incongruous feelings towards salesmen.
Let's all go to the party
Let's all go to the party
Let's all go to the party
And get ourselves a drink
The bamboo are ill, and it looks like they may be doomed -- I have little time for ill plants. Today, however, I moved the vase containing the six lucky bamboo into a spot that is almost equally shady, except for in the evening, the leaves catch a little more sunlight. So I funnelled water from the hose down the spears -- is that what they're called?
I need to go to Safeway, get them to make me a sandwich, and once at home cut up the peppergrass I've been growing and lace it into the sandwich, which has: Avacado spread, guacomole, pickled peppers, ciabatta bread, green pickles, tomatoes. Maybe I'll stay in. I may install VICE CITY where I can jump on the hood of a moving car, and kill any stranger walking the streets. Sound horrible? It's a GAME.
The house is now empty of all except those who live here. J.'s father was in town since Wednesday, and while we all had a good ol' time, being able to come home and fuck around is truly one of the reasons why we all move away to begin with. The music's going, and so's the beer.
Work today invovled me working in the sun all day, which is something I like. We get stoked and I uncrate 40 appliances and deal with the horrible amount of garbage that comes off new style technology.
Sunday shall be fun, and funny, and allergy to PEEE-NAUGHT!
My bike going downhill with me on it is one of the best things to do. Something eternally simple about the bicycle. I'm using my own power, and the thing takes up practically no space, and I can drunkenly cruise around town with a girl on the seat, also drunk, whilst ranting on about Plath and Hughes while catching wicked downhill.
Had a cup of sake whilst watering the garden which consisists of: pepper grass, a fern, a yoda head in which bamboo grows, some sort of flower, spikey and red.
I'm going to have dozens of new albums to listen to. I fuel myself on one or two albums at a time, but I may need to listen to 12 one after the other, for flare.
current song: Elliott Smith - PICTURES OF ME
I'm not surprised at all, and why should I be?
Days off. Sometimes, the money is needed on a level that warrants shunning away summer events that may seem necessary. But really, I'm willing to work. Ran into B., an old work-mate as J.'s pa and I were walking to the bike store. B. and I gossipped about S. We both turn away when we see S. begging on the streets. B. just bought a house by shoeing in a hunk of cash. Houses cost 300K in these parts. A fine choice indeed.
Got my bike fixed up and took it for a ride through the neighborhood. My left hand is gracious, indeed.
The trip to Vancouver was fun. Time with the brothers, strolling the downtown streets eating all you can eat sushi, drinking red bull to stay awake. The funeral wasn't a funeral, but a "Celebration of Life," in which a small room which resembled a very small gymnasium was rented with small tables and people came and enjoyed the open bar -- especially me! Open bar at a funeral --> Awesome. Although nobody made a scene. My uncle would've, if it were someone else's funeral. It was a humble celebration. I did see some awesome black and white photography done by my grandfather posted on some carboard cutouts, such as: The uncle with a horse, little kids running around in the flowers kind of thing. The fact that a poor farmer in the 50s had a camera says something.
So I bought some artistic works. Ted Hughes - BIRTHDAY LETTERS, poetry. Carolyn Mark - JUST MARRIED, AN ALBUM OF DUETS. At frist I though the Mark recording was not properly threaded through due to several bands bringing in many dynamics. But on the second listening, it's good, and have given it about a dozen listens. The jumps from band to band make the album more about the singing, and the music more about Mark's style fitting into different circles than one circle fitting into all. (Ah? Ah? ;) ) Hardly. It's consistent throughout. And the showcase of talent brings something original to a great idea -- an album of duets. The second track, NORTH COUNTRY FAIR rules.
Generally, Tolan McNeil, guitarist and bassist on most of the tracks, also sound technician on some tracks, and "masterer" of the album, brought consistency to the levels of musicianship. Except during a solo which I thought lacked subtlety, but worked none-the-less.
Perhaps the inconsistency I was talking about stems from the fact that I'm a drummer, so when I hear loads of different drummers, I'm the type of person to notice. JUST MARRIED was playing when I wrote this. It fueled this review. And the totally edited review. The original was a little harsher, and filled with pompous language cuz I just came back from a funeral! Not in the best mood. I'll even admit to changing the review because I noticed that someone googled "carolyn mark" and "just married" and if people are going to be doing that, then I ought to kill someone and bury them out in the desert somewhere, because it wouldn't be too long before someone reported me to some outback-Nazi-agency. . . ya never know in THIS town.
A hellish day at work, where the salesmen decided to add seven extra orders -- so we uncrated fridges, stoves, dishwashers, got them all ready. Then, one by one, the orders got cancelled or postponed for whatever reason. So by the end of the day, about 20 large appliances hung out, in the way, of everything else. Lots of wasted work. Who cared!
I'm looking forward to the funeral this weekend. I keep a distance, emotionally, when someone dies -- people die. We must die. Big surprise -- an uncle kicked the bucket.
Sad, really, really sad.
I'm fascinated by peoples' reaction to death. When a friend of mine died some years ago, I noticed that everybody fell into their roles and really talked down and freaked out to everyone else. Total loss of control. It was allowed.
This weekend, I'll see who loses it, who keeps it, who drinks it. Peoples' ideas of themselves disappears during the response, the reaction to the slippery abstractedness in the head caused by the death of a close one. It usually forces humanity and family to surface. This may explain how the bereaved clutch onto their roles, to reidentify with their training.
The loss of someone brings people together with my family. It's a crazy reunion. We're also going to Sea World.
A rather silly day at work where I reconfigured the cardboard M4gtag Guy I found in the the recycling bin.
He now carries his head in his free hand -- the hand that stretched out as if to say, I know. In bold white and black letters I wrote "Your Mom Goes To College" on his chest. On his jacket, I drew a patch that declared, rather impossibly, Jesus Saves You Money.
There was still a lot of heavy lifting to do, and I organized Mezzanine 2 -- and in fact, I altered cardboard man on my lunch break. Some jobs though, go in intense patterns of business followed by NOTHINGNESS.
I rented Garden State. I expect to bleh my way through it once the Girl gets home.
I'm still very tired from yesterday's work. Not to sound like a pussy, because I hate it when people yak about shit that I couldn't possibly care less about. Today's my day off and I'm almost too tired to enjoy. This sentiment, I feel, ought to concern all.
I'm going for breakfast, alone. I like breakfast, alone, but it almost feels like attending a movie, alone. But with a dark theatre, and with everybody staring at the big screen, it's almost the opposite of a breakfast joint, where anybody can look at me and make their own wild assumptions. If other people judge me like how I judge them, then I'm going to seem like a man without friends who tries to disappear in the crowds in order to feel a sociological acceptance in the morning.