Some little teenage prick accosted me on the street on my way home from work, said, "Can I interest you in a subscription to the Vancouver Sun or the National Post?"
"No thanks," I say, and continue walking. "I'm with Globe and Mail."
He nods, then, when my back is to him, says, "Globe and Mail sucks."
I stop. Turn around.
ME: Are you aware that the Asper Family owns the National Post?
HIM: That's good?
ME: No, not exactly good, I'd say.
HIM: So you mean, National Post is good?
ME: No. Don't you see? Globe and Mail is good.
HIM: The Aspers own the Globe and Mail, too?
ME: No. Not even close.
HIM: Oh. [sneer] I guess it depends if you're left-wing or right-wing, then, doesn't it?
I just wrote a long boring update about work. Fuck it! It's deleted. It's like nothing ever happened, like I've been cooking sushi and drinking cocktails my whole life. Yes! Semi-Lemmy is over, minus D who is off fighting some sort of environmental crisis. News of the world: a ferry crashed into Horseshoe Bay. Now whenever I ride the ferry and get paranoid about crashing, I can't say to myself, "Don't be ridiculous!" Damn.
And with the above words, I lapsed into a state of whisky intoxication so strong that I could not speak, but walked Morgan quietly to her truck to hug goodbye.
A fabulous evening up til then, though! Drinks at the edge of the Breakwater, legs dangling above giant smashing waves. Conversations about Japanese literature, forbidden relationships, sushi .... Off to an upscale restaurant I would never dream of going to normally, but then I've never been a Vike, and Morgan wanted to go, so we ate calamari and smuggled in the booze and had a martini glass filled with strawberries and whipped cream and chocolate sauce and Kahlua! Also, I wisely stole a fork, so now I can eat potatoes without becoming ENRAGED at the difficulty of doing such a thing with chopsticks, or very small coffee spoons.
(ripped from Jason's blog)
1. Name your two worst habits. Which would you rather give up first?
The harsh judgement of others and the harsh judgement of myself. Which would I give up? Not sure ... The two seem to be connected somehow, so I think it's all or nothing, really.
2. What is your birthstone? What would you change it to?
Peridot. An orange gem. I prefer rubies, or jade, if that counts as a stone.
3. You have one phone call – use it wisely. Who is it?
Matt probably, to grouse about something or crack obscure jokes.
4. Would you rather be richer than anyone, better than everyone, or less encumbered by responsibility?
Better than everyone else, of course. It would give me something to smile about. :)
5. Can you play a music instrument? What is your favorite song/melody to play?
I can play "Hot Cross Buns" on the recorder with my nostrils; that is about it.
6. What is your blood type? Do you donate blood?
No clue as to the type. And no, I wouldn't donate blood, although I would definitely donate my organs, even my skin and eyes!
7. If you got stranded on a deserted island, and had only your overnight bag with you…
Cigarettes, a solar-powered lap-top, some gin seeds so I could plant my very own gin tree, sun block, Steph's cool orange sunglasses (I'm keeping those by the way - just try and get them back, jerk-face), Sambuca and her toiletries, a photograph of Matt, a collection of Margaret Atwood essays, lox, a lighter, perhaps a discman and some blues cd's, an alarm clock.
8. What one CD survived the wreckage (or whatever stranded you)?
Rage Against the Machine's Evil Empire.
9. What book will you be reading over and over again?
The aforementioned Margaret Atwood collection, and barring that, Allen Ginsberg's collection of essays OR his "Howl" collection.
10. What tee shirt will you be wearing until you’re rescued?
My red and black Jay Dunphy and the Religion baby doll t.
11. Would you rather find a million dollars or find true love?
The money -- but only because I already found true love.
Spent an hour wandering through the Oak Bay shopping district today looking for a door mat. There is nossing. No asparagus, either.
You know what I did find, though, was a sedan with Washington plates, and nothing in the front seat but Civil War cd's and muffin tins. Seriously.
Another movie I watched recently was "Mitchell" -- the Mystery Science Theatre 3000 version, albeit. ("How do you like your scotch, Mitchell?" "Uh, by the quart?" Mitchell!)
Oh, also I couldn't find any forks sold singly.
A brand-new embarassing moment:
Matt and I were walking out of the Fort and Foul Bay liquor store the other night, and I turn around and growl, in a very deep voice, "Where did the motherfucking CHEESE go?" -- only it's not Matt, it's this other dude, and I'm staring into his stranger's eyes thinking What have I just said? His girlfriend just about killed herself laughing. I blushed all the way to Yo Video.
Movies seen lately: "What's New, Pussycat," Woody Allen's first screenwriting project, and "Wild Man Blues," a documentary about Allen's jazz band touring Europe. Woody Allen whines a lot, it's very unattractive. (My father, during "Annie Hall": Does this guy ever shut up?)
Some rye and cokes on the beach. Moonlight, etc. I have $25 to my name at the moment and I'm going to blow it all on dinner tonight: salmon marinated with soy sauce, dill, and lemon; asparagus with a grapeseed oil and walnut sauce; baby roasted potatoes. Yes. It will atone for an entire week of dinners consisting of crackers and cheese.
Good Lord, what a day. Yesterday, now there was a day.
Started with seemingly innocent gardening, much discussion of Team America, how it was in effect politically neutered by its own plot. Colin arrives, we wind up at some sort of nudist dock, a woman with sagging tits gets mad at Matt for smoking weed ("But your cooking is so progressive"), there is a heated arguement, suddenly we are on a mountain, I have just read a warning about cougars, how to fend them off that is, and we're actually hiking, yes, going up, very steep, grabbing, what, grabbing brambles or whatever they are, terrified of slipping down, forced to douse my cigarette because I need both hands, you understand. Scratches, little itchy things everywhere. I give up, pee on some moss while Matt and Colin hike to an arbutus tree. Suddenly my lighter won't work; I am alarmed at the prospect of, what, being reduced to smashing rocks together to make fire. The whole setting is disturbingly similar to the land of my childhood, Silver Star Mountain that is, all fear and discomfort and the vague threat of being ripped to pieces by large cats. Matt stole some flowers and we went home.
Then Swans, then Evolution. I am very embarassed because it seems Steph's man saw me dragging Matt to the dance floor by his dick. Who does such tawdry things?? I'm quite upset. I had a lot of bright red shooters, many rye and cokes. Cigarettes. A refusal to walk home, people thought I was a baby for insisting on a cab, but the walk would have been over an hour ...
So, the boy and I decided to give the ol' ball and chain another shot.
Really, can you decide anything else on a beach at midnight, full moon, red wine from France, curled under a Mexican blanket talking dirty and looking at pictures from Montreal?
After a splendid dinner at Splendid Chinese Restaurant on Saturday, Michael, Ben and I ate raspberries and drove around Oak Bay, ultimately deciding to "un-liberate" Steph on the grounds that she would be such a fantastic trophy wife: she would give the best parties, she's tall enough, and could totally pull off three-inch heels and discreet, outrageously expensive jewels. Yes. But would we be invited to the parties? I suppose it would depend on the husband. Levels of tolerance and all that.
I've been musing over some newspaper clippings my mother gave me, of two friends from my childhood who got married. Ostensibly this is to help me "catch up on the news," but I know I'm supposed to become agitated by my unwed state and tie the knot already. One of the pictures of the bride and groom is in a field of wheat, I swear this to be true. They look far too young to be married. Why do I think this? When my mother was my age, she had two kids. When my brother was my age, he had one kid. I feel like I'm 80 and 12 at the same time.
That really emotional Radiohead song, I forget the name, it's on the same album as "Paranoid Android," it's track #6 - always thought the chorus went And for a minute or two / I lost myself, I lost myself and every time I listened to this song while walking I would think Yes! Radiohead speaks the truth, Radiohead knows about the unbearable transience of being! -- only now I think I may have misheard, think maybe the lyric is And for a minute or two / I lost my CEL, I lost my CEL -- tell me Sigmund, I say Sigmund, can this be true?? Has my life been one big lie? / Yes, oh yes
Rye-Dawg was right! As a UVic alumni, I get a FREE one-year membership to the University Club (and access to the Faculty Club lounge) to commence 1 July. Too bad I'll miss Lobster Night:
Fresh Atlantic Lobster
(Flown In For The Occasion)
Friday, June 17th
Seatings at 6:00 p.m. or 8:00 p.m.
(Choose Your Own Time)
Menu
Almond Bisque
Cucumber Ring Salad - Walnut Dressing
Fresh Nova Scotia Lobster with Garlic Butter
Asparagus, Stuffed Tomato, Rice Pilaf
Fresh Baked Rolls and Butter
Mango Kulfi
Coffee, Tea
Price: $34.95+gst per person
Wow. Concerns, though: I have a feeling the expectations of "good conduct" will be more stringent than at the student pub. Ie, no bringing a bottle of my own wine and sipping it furtively on the patio whilst yelling about genetics ... Or was the genetics thing a different night? SB would know.
I had a dream that I was dating Alim from "Touch of Pink." Couldn't figure out why, until I remembered that in the movie he says the word samiches -- he makes mango and pickle samiches -- love it!
I also love having a compost now! I realize this makes me a dull person, but the accumulation of orange and banana peels, tops of strawberries, apple cores, bits of tomato and green pepper, coffee grounds and old flowers, all lovingly collected to be fed back to the earth!!! -- fills me with joy.
Sambuca's gone crazy. She misses having a deck to play on. I wish I could afford a pet psychologist; she is growing increasingly sullen, walking all over the kitchen counters, and begging for things like slices of banana, which even she knows she doesn't like. I've been taking her for walks, which she seems to enjoy, until babies see her and start cooing. She hates babies even more than I do. After every walk I have to calm her down and promise we will never have one living with us. She'll be mollified briefly, then skitter across the hardwood floors and become upset again. Felines.
Tuesday at dusk, a gas station - "I have to check your id, yeah, I do! I - Oh, my GOD, 1981, you're older than I am!!"
Wednesday afternoon, at a bus stop - "How old are you, anyway? TWENTY-THREE? I'd thought you were 14."
Wednesday, twilight, at a grocery store - "1981! You're not really that old, are you?"
Blame the 80s, maybe? I don't know. I always thought my world-weary eyes and cigarette wrinkles would prevent people from being taken in by the cherubic face and the kid-sized t-shirts ... Destiny, we meet again.
Perhaps it's just the shortness talking. (Nora, ever perky: "You're not short, you're vertically challenged!" While we sang Patsy Cline songs in the Vernon Family Church washroom.)
Memory from age 9, gathered around in the living room to watch the evening news, Tony Parsons says sexily but seriously, "It is official. Canada will be involved in the war in the Persian Gulf." I start screaming, because I have been reading books about smuggling Bibles in Russia and hiding Jews in Germany, and think that because our family is Christian we're all going to die, plus we'll have to make black-out curtains. My dad, ever the gentleman, "Shut that blasted thing off! It's disturbing Joy!" I was comforted and put to bed, where I dreamed of anti-aircraft fire and hoped to join some sort of resistance group. A few years later I would ask to sign up for army cadets because my crush, Luke, had asked me to join, but my parents thought it unsuitable.
Few things more annoying than a keyboard with a sticky space bar. I mean really.
Now that I am UVic alumni, will I be permitted access to the mysterious "Faculty Club"? Does anyone know? I want to get drunk on its half-hidden patio, drag my fingertips through the gentle waves of the pond beyond the bar.
I spent half an hour at McNeil Bay yesterday, smoking cigarettes and counting the rings of a dead tree. There were somewhere between 300 and 500 rings. In the centre of the tree, the original sphere is explosive, as if a small sun had been born, and was unable to stop pulsing outward. For centuries!
If a picture is worth a thousand words, how many pictures is an experience worth?
I watched "Touch of Pink" last night. It has received dismally low ratings on rottentomatoes.com, but it was the first romantic comedy I've seen in ages that didn't make me throw things at the screen or bitch about "veiled messages" afterward. It was a charming movie, very sweet -- Kyle McLachlan plays the ghost of Cary Grant (perfectly), and the male lead has hot brown eyes.
Writing with Ben tonight! We're going to rove about downtown Victoria, searching for coffeehouses that are open past 6.
Ah, to be Rose ...
Women in Johnny Cash's songs lead such hopeless lives. They're always having their men die on them, or go to jail; other times the men cheat on them, or simply leave them, with instructions to donate their good suits to charitable organizations.
I'm feeling far from hopeless! Against all odds, that cultural assistant job is STILL ACCEPTING APPLICATIONS, and the final deadline is two days from now! At times like this I am absoutely convinced that God and Goddess exist, and that they both care about me. Other times: last summer I absently wondered when my course registration date was, and checked the calandar, and it was that evening. (If I'd missed it by even a day or two, I would have been waitlisted for the majority of my classes and possibly have had my graduation delayed.) Another time was last month, when I opened a phone bill a few weeks after it had arrived, only to be informed that my phone connection would be terminated the next morning. I was able to do an emergency credit card payment just in time.
So yes, they exist.
I hope I get this job, but I must admit, the corporate retail thing is working well, in unexpected ways. For example, working only 15 hours a week has its downsides, like being unable to pay bills, but the upside is that I have more free time than I've had in the past two years. I can spend my mornings doing crossword puzzles whilst sipping coffee, and crushing fresh raspberries onto toasted bagles, which I then consume. Been doing tons of reading too -- currently working my way through Susan Musgrave's "Cargo of Orchids," a beautiful and very gritty novel. In the afternoons I go for walks, to the ocean or to town or just around the beautiful neighbourhood. I can't complain.
Read last week that Jack White got married on the Amazon River, in a boat, with a shamaan presiding. Meg White was the maid of honour. I forget who the bride was.
Bam! Parental unit officially on their way to the ferries, and I have time to reflect on the madness that is my family life. Mum threw several hissy fits a day, while Dad frantically worked on damage control issues and fixed my stove. Much as I'd love to go into detail about my mum's behaviour I won't, because she is my mother and I owe her that much. And when she is not getting offended (by my book with the forward written by the Dali Lamah - yes I know that is spelled atrociously - or the tenants upstairs having a tribal drumming jam, or my father trying to express an opinion about anything, etc), she can be wonderfully nice and generous.
So, to focus on the good: several fabulous meals out, including Rong's Chinese, Fisherman's Wharf, and Floyd's Diner. Walks on many beaches. (Aside: I absent-mindedly got drunk right before they arrived on Tuesday, and took them weaving through the neighbourhood in pitch blackness in search of the ocean, "and Sarah MacLachlan's parents' house!" not finding either of course, well Dad managed to locate the ocean.) They watched me graduate, with distinction as it turns out (tip: take the easy classes), and it was nice to feel as though I may have done something right in Ma's book. ("But what kind of job are you going to get with a BFA Joy?" hmmm)
Wow, I realize this update is a titch on the NEGATIVE side! I may return to it tomorrow, cuz like I said, I don't want to, you know, disrespect the fam and all. I will say that every time I meet my dad he amazes me, the way he has actually become a better parent as he's aged, and not the other way around, as I've observed in other men his age. He is concerned about me, because that's what Dads do, but he seems to have found this balance where he very clearly explains his concerns, and then leaves things at that - ie, no resentment simmering under the surface on either his behalf or mine, no veiled guilt trips, etc. It's refreshing. I admire him for it, and appreciate more than words can tell - I tried to tell him, last night, but couldn't get the words out right and sounded like some sort of greeting card. Perhaps I should send him a greeting card? Okay, enough writing.
Yesterday I picked up a slug. It was on my bedroom floor. I had thought it was black packing tape, or a piece of foam (why?) or something. Anyway, I picked it up. It oozed on me. I deposited it in the garden outside, and it became covered in sod. Will that kill it? I was trying to help it. Maybe it will ooze everything off.
Lent one of the upstairs tenants two of my books: Anais Nin's "Delta of Venus" and Margaret Atwood's "Good Bones." She admired my collection, now whittled down to around 50 of my favourites. I miss the bagfuls I sold for a paltry sum at Russel's, Dark Horse, Second Story. I miss, I miss.
My work scheduling is all fucked up. I won't bore you with the numbers, but they're giving me way less hours than they promised at the interview, plus they scheduled me to work during my convocation ceremony when I specifically told them I was unavailable on that date. No big deal - I just won't show up for work - but it means even less hours this week. Fuct. Will have to call Adeline about that cultural guide position that starts in July.
On a Fay Weldon kick! Just finished "A Hard Time to be a Father," and am about to start on "Mantrapped" and "Worst Fears." From the plot summary of the former: "Then one day, she bumps into a dashing Russel Crowe lookalike, Peter Watson, and editor for the local paper, only their bump is more than an 'Excuse me.' They swap souls and Trisha suddenly inhabits Peter's body and he becomes her."
Yes!
Busily adjusting to life in Fairfield. I have a tiny fridge: stocked it with gin, raspberry juice, tonic water, lox, salmon cream cheese, and strawberries. The kitchen is so small I have been doing the dishes after every use - another negative turned into a positive! Ie, long walk to work = much-needed exercise, quiet neighbourhood = less thugs, ground-level suite = wonderful cool temperature for the summertime, etc. Sambuca is still morose, but she had a supervised visit to the backyard this morning, and snacked on the other tenants' flowers.
A couple of fun excursions with Ben and Michael, who are gallantly making sure I am not lonely. We have walked to the ocean and had late tea at Moka House, and on Saturday the three of us plus Steph and D. went for a picnic and then a martini at Bravo. My martini was made of gin, scotch, and a twist of lemon. Stunningly good.
Ma and Pa are coming for five days, starting tomorrow, so I've got to stop smoking. Hopefully they don't notice the pale yellow finger on my right hand. They're coming to watch me graduate, and there will be many walks and gentle chidings on their behalf (they'd better be gentle), and I intend to take them to Floyd's for breakfast. Hard to believe it's been a year since I've seen those guys. I hope there are no epic battles, as in visits of yore, but I'm looking forward to it immensely and think we'll be okay.
To answer the burning questions:
I live in Fairfield now! Very, very close to the dreaded Oak Bay, but I've done a lot of walking around and calculating and studying maps, and have convinced myself it's true-blue Fairfield. Thank God. Close to the ocean, a 40-minute walk to work ... Yesterday I walked for a total of 2.5 hours: to and from work, then a little walk around the neighbourhood so I could puff on a cigarette (I had told my new landlords I don't smoke), and then THE FEAR (Ben and Steph: it got me too) hit, and I stormed out of the house, ignoring the friendly call of other tenants in the house, in order to walk, walk as far and as long as I could. Wound up at the ocean and was able to breathe finally.
The new suite is pretty nice - MUCH smaller and a little shoddier than the old place, but it's a character house (hardwood floors even), $100 cheaper, and also has two bedrooms, which will provide Matt and I with much-needed space from each other as we decide what the next incarnation of our relationship will be. Friends? Renewed lovers? Hostile rommates? Only the wind will tell! Sambuca doesn't much like the hardwood floors - she keeps slipping, and then growling at me as though it's my fault - but she's adjusting.
Tonight: attempt to finish unpacking, do the Victoria Times crossword puzzle, call my mother to let her know I am alive and safely moved, call Ben to see if my new phone number works (there have been problems), and generally sloth around. I worked today. Each day gets a little better, as I become more confident with the stock and what-not, but there is a co-worker who looks like she'll be trouble. I've been civil so far but she made me cry yesterday (in private, and part of it was hunger), and if this happens again I am going to have a frank talk with her. I am not interested in being bossed about by someone my own age so that she can experience some kind of corporate-lifer ego boost. This happened to me when I was 18, and the experience I gained from that horrible period will not fall to the wayside just so it can be repeated when I'm 23.
Hurrah for flowers! They're everywhere. Lots of purple ones on my new street.
Hurrah, another fill-in-the-blanks thing! This one courtesy of Caroline.
TWELVE MOVIES:
12. Ghost World
11. Bottle Rocket
10. Happiness
09. Casablanca
08. Thirteen Conversations About One Thing
07. Shaolin Soccer
06. Hannah and Her Sisters
05. Breathless
04. I Am Curious (Yellow)
03. The Big Lebowski
02. You Are Here
01. Cannibal: The Musical!
ELEVEN GOOD BANDS/ARTISTS:
11. The White Stripes
10. Metric
09. The Pixies
08. The Amps
07. Ray Charles
06. Nina Simone
05. Rage Against the Machine
04. The Magnetic Fields
03. Johnny Cash
02. Semi-Louise
01. Paul Simon
TEN THINGS ABOUT YOU:
10. I love and wear the colour orange even though I look sickly in it.
09. My skin is so sensitive that I can't wear make-up or most jewelry, and even the smallest, gentlest of hickeys leave giant bruised wounds on my neck.
08. I think I can do everything better than anyone else (except the obvious things, like painting, finance, public relations, etc.), and rarely have the grace to admit that I am wrong.
07. I used to be a climbing wall instructor.
06. At night, I often awaken convinced my toes have fallen off, and count them all.
05. I scorn a lot of my mother's values but desperately want her to approve of me.
04. I never pay the phone bill on time.
03. I work in corporate retail now. Somehow.
02. I think I patronized whores in a past life, and broke the heart of one of them.
01. I use baby talk when having conversations with my cat.
TEN GOOD BOOKS:
10. The Dharma Bums - Jack Kerouac
09. Collected Diaries - Anais Nin
08. Good Bones - Margaret Atwood
07. Self-Help - Lorrie Moore
06. Howl and Other Poems - Allen Ginsberg
05. A Hard Time to be a Father - Fay Weldon
04. Eat Mangoes Naked - Sark
03. There is a Season - Patrick Lane
02. that short story collection Ethan Coen wrote
01. All the Anxious Girls on Earth - Zsu-zsi Gardner
EIGHT FAVORITE FOODS/DRINKS:
08. espresso with loads of cream
07. gin - with tonic water, with raspberry juice, with sangria and peach juice
06. sushi
05. sweet and sour soy balls
04. aged cheddar cheese on stoned wheat thins
03. salted mixed nuts
02. baked salmon
01. union egg muffins with no ham
EIGHT THINGS YOU WEAR DAILY:
08. socks
07. shoes
06. skirt or jeans
05. t or hoody
04. a watch
03. my green handbag usually
02. a smile - either bitter or genuine; it's always there
01. fruity sunblock, these days - gad it's hot
SEVEN THINGS THAT YOU HATE:
07. snobs, especially when they rat me out as one
06. people who watch Hollywood movies because they like them
05. discussion of bodily functions: farts, snot, etc.
04. people who don't get out of your fucking way on the sidewalk
03. sales clerks who are mute through-out a whole transaction
02. mimes
01. fingernail clippings
FIVE THINGS YOU DO DAILY (these are almost identical to C's):
05. smoke cigarettes.
04. read.
03. walk great distances, to get places and to burn off energy and to brood
02. procrastinate.
01. talk to myself.
FOUR SHOWS YOU WATCH (I don't have TV.. but I do have a DVD..):
04. Sex and the City
03. Kids in the Hall
02. Futurerama
01. Six Feet Under
THREE PLACES YOU'VE LIVED:
03. Vernon.
02. Victoria.
01. Lumby.
TWO THINGS YOU WANT:
02. To "rise above it" -- Jamaican-style!
01. A creative job with fabulous people around.
ONE PERSON YOU WANT TO SEE RIGHT NOW:
01. Jess! We must rage together through my new neighbourhood!