But what alcoholic beverage, Friday Five?
1) What is the first alcoholic beverage you ever drank?
I'll go with whiskey, shot after shot in Barber's house and then I went upstairs and played with his rabbit. I punctured a hole through my paper plate and steak juice stained my pants.
2) What is the most memorable experience you have ever had while under the influence of an alcoholic beverage?
Boozing it up on a friend's patio in the valley, late we order pizza, only I have no money, so I bike to the bank, only there's no lights, only forrest. I make it there and back in record time.
3) If you were an alcoholic beverage, what would your ingredients be? Also: shaken, or stirred?
Bourbon, icing sugar, and the branch off a Saskatchewan Birch. Stirred.
4) Which alcoholic beverage do you hate with all your being, and why?
Vodka coolers. I totally miss the point.
5) If you had $1000, which alcoholic beverage would you stock your pantry with?
A quart of scotch. MITCHELL!
I have got to stop sleeping in so late on my days off. It's almost noon, and my day's only started. Got the day off on the right start at least -- a wank and a shower followed by some Elliott Smith, and gorgonzola and brie cheese will follow Elliott. I sure hope there're some eggs I can get my paws on!
Rehearsed last night with the band, got a new song on the go, re: Knife Fight. I'm going to work on the monologues today, get them more similar. Each member of the band wrote a monologue, and we're thinking of putting the band into the words. We're all going to stab this mysterious "Carl" figure. The bastard stole our gardening and power tools! How can we care for our stuff without the proper tools! It's like stealing a woman. A band's woman. The second worst kind of theft. I get to write more on the typewriter. Gonna read some poetry, some really good local poetry, it's pretty "Funky" -- bitter, sarcastic, gentle and smooth.
The girl's off to work for the day, so I'm forced to spend it alone if I want to. I might just do that. Get drunk off Hermannators in the early afternoon with a typewriter and a mound of cheeses.
November
Tom Waits
No shadow no stars
no moon no cars
November
it only believes
in a pile of dead leaves
and a moon
that's the color of bone
No prayers for November
to linger longer
stick your spoon in the wall
we'll slaughter them all
November has tied me
to an old dead tree
get word to April
to rescue me
November's cold chain
Made of wet boots and rain
and shiny black ravens
on chimney smoke lanes
November seems odd
you're my firing squad
November
With my hair slicked back
with carrion shellac
with the blood from a pheasant
and the bone from a hare
tied to the branches
of a roebuck stag
left to wave in the timber
like a buck shot flag
Go away you rainsnout
go away blow your brains out
November
Good times had by all regarding the house-warming shin-dig. From midnight till four a.m. hardly anyone spoke, which made sense as there were about a dozen peeps in the room playing shitefully happy drunk music. Woke up late, walked the downtown with the girl and went to breakfast at our usual. Had tried to eat earlier but the line up was astoundingly menacing. The girl and I were in and out in less than a minute on our first breakfast attempt, and the good folks at the eatery noticed us come and go -- we were noticed. :)
Just watched "My Blue Heaven" starring Rick Moranis and Steve Martin. Martin, who plays a mob snitch, is moved by the FBI into middle-America. Moranis plays an FBI agent who loses his wife to a baseball player. Joan Cusack plays a high-strung professional mother with two sons. Really it was a crash course in zanyness.
As an aside, Rick Moranis has a new country album out, and you can stream some of his tunes at rickmoranis.com. Very traditional and a lyric wit that postpones any ideas that this is a celebrity recording attuned to extending Moranis' celebrity.
Got to get my tarot read.
Breakfast at Floyd's, a supremely busy place, yet on top of their game this morning. Well done lads!
Shopping at the Patch, me trying on a pink shirt with PICTON written across the chest. Joy swooning over gyspsy attire.
Laundry at home.
Homeopathic Motorcycle the most accurate terminology I could think up regarding Swift Current. Ever seen it?
Our phone company is a suprely bizarre poop monster. I believe in the Union. People were knocking on our door, surrounding our house, then knocking on our door again, at about 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning. This after a few days earlier I told the Telus woman, "Screw this, I'll go somewhere else." This after four scabs lied to me four different times. What the shit is this all about. But now, it's here, and well, I didn't want to turn away Union dudes working at 9 a.m., or maybe they were the SCAB remainders, finishing up their income straws.