tell me a story

seriously?

2007-06-03T12:39:00.001-04:00

I have trouble enough on the sidewalk with an open umbrella, poking people's shoulders and eyes because I'm not tall enough to avoid them.

No way in hell I'm going to use this (click pic for Toronto Star article, June 3, 2007). I'd probably get run over.

PHOTO BY TAKASHI MATSUMOTO

pirate fascination

2006-09-19T18:20:00.000-04:00

I was told that it is National Talk-Like-A-Pirate-Day!

I'm not entirely sure how pirates came to be so well-loved. They rape and pillage, after all. I think it all started with the Disney-fication of Blue Beard (Barbe-Bleue, Walt Disney Productions (1968)) who was a pirate in this version. I remember that though he was most certainly wicked, Disney saved his soul with some act of kindness or other. It's funny...quick research on Google indicates that many do not know that Disney turned this tale into a kid's movie.

Ah ha! Further googling informed me that the movie is actually called Blackbeard's Ghost. I do recall that this was based on Barbe-Bleue, but Disney repackaged the story so that we can love pirates. Someday, I might decide to verify the accuracy of all this, but for now, my memory says it is so.

But, I digress. The point of this post is to provide you with a brief tutorial on "How To Talk Like A Pirate".

I also found this index of pirate movies!

Oh and check out funny pirates at Pirates Making Jokes.

DVD Advertisements

2006-09-13T11:59:00.000-04:00

The other day I rented Brokeback Mountain. When I sat down to watch it, I was instead treated to a car advertisement. Somewhat irked, I pressed skip. The ad continued. I pressed the menu button. The ad continued. Universal Pictures had disabled the DVD. This is akin to selling me a car that only goes backwards for the first ten seconds after I start the engine, allowing me either to sit and wait or back through the wall of my garage. After thinking about this for a moment I realized the only place I could get movies that weren't broken was by pirating them from the internet or buying copies in Chinatown. And that's just what I intend to do. I encourage everyone to copy and paste this simple message onto your own blogs.

_______________________________________________

Dear Movie and Music Industry Idiots,

Please stop making products that are worse than the products that are available for free. Many of us believe in paying for art and we would like to do so, except all your CDs are fucked up beyond repair with idiotic DRM and your DVDs are defiled by unskippable ads.

I hereby pledge that for each time I encounter an advertisement on a DVD
I will download or otherwise pirate the next three films I was considering purchasing. Likewise, I will inspect the CDs I'm thinking about buying and download any that are encoded with DRM instead of spending my money on a broken product.

Yours Truly,

Matteus Von Mustard

a little something i read

2006-07-01T23:00:00.000-04:00

My Graduation Speech ("Memento Mori")

by Joe Dellosa
May 29, 2006

I'm not really that morbid, I swear.

I was the Inlet Grove Class of 2006 valedictorian, which meant I got to address the crowd at our graduation. This is the text of the speech as it appeared on my notes. There were only few minor differences between this text and what I actually said on May 25, 2006; you can read about that here.

If I can get a copy of the videotape of our graduation, I'll revise with an actual transcript (and some explanation for some of the more unusual parts of the speech).

* * *

[Thank-yous.]

I'm honored to address you all this evening, and I appreciate everybody taking the time to be a part of our graduation.

I've got an announcement to make: Within the next 150 years, I'm going to be dead.

I don't know how exactly—personally, I'm imagining some sort of scenario involving a bottle of Levitra and a game of Hungry Hungry Hippos—but I can say with a reasonable degree of confidence that it's going to happen.

I'm not a particularly morbid person, nor do I ruminate over things like the inevitability of death very often. My planning has a tendency to extend no further than a week; any consternation I have over the ephemeral nature of life is usually assuaged by eating a gallon of gummi bears while watching Saved by the Bell reruns on TBS.

Still, though, I thought a lot about it while trying to decide what to say for this speech.

I wanted to talk about friendship, because it means a lot to me. I'm more than a little dismayed that friendships can be broken in moments because of a misunderstood comment or a badly timed joke, or because somebody's pissed they're not in someone else's top eight. I'm disappointed when the alacrity to fix a broken friendship isn't there; it's a harsh reminder that the strength of a friendship isn't measured by how happy two people are when things are going well, but how hard they work to understand each other when things aren't. And when one does break, the swiftness to condemn it is disturbing; it seems kind of silly to malign a friendship that probably had more peaks than troughs just because it ended in a trough.

I wanted to talk about what love means, because people say I'm cynical about it, but I'm not. I just don't believe it's merely a fuzzy feeling of nervous, jittery excitement—that's what origami fortune tellers call crushes, psychologists call limerence, and the jaded call horniness. I don't believe it's a mysterious force that stings, and burns, and maddens—although penicillin can take care of that. I do think, however, that real love is observable, and it's expressible. I think it's the product of respect, understanding, and admiration. I think it's a determination to say "I love you" without saying "I love you if." And I know that it's nothing short of an agreement that says "I'll be okay without you, and you'll be okay without me, but I really think that I can make you happy, and I think you make me want to make others happy, too."

I wanted to talk about courage, because, though we've all decided to revere it, we haven't come to a consensus about what it is. Some people label everything as courageous: Chugging a three-liter bottle of Shasta Cola is "courageous"; turning down $100,000 because Howie Mandel convinced you to say No Deal is "courageous." Then there are those who say that anything less than taking a bullet for someone isn't courage. Courage isn't everywhere, but it's not nowhere, either. Not too many of us will get the opportunity to demonstrate the highest forms of courage like taking bullets, or rescuing people from a fire, or eating at Arby's. Even fewer will actually have the temerity to follow through when the opportunity does arise. And that's okay, because it's the smaller acts of courage and selflessness that add up: It's sticking up for someone when you could've just walked away. It's donating blood when the sight of needles scares the piss out of you. It's doing something for someone else when you can't get anything out of it—and especially when you stand to lose something yourself.

I wanted to talk about sanguinity and optimism, and how people seem to prefer "Know Your Limits" to "You Can Do Anything." I know, it pisses me off too whenever the Dr. Philian jackass du jour tries to convince me that I can do anything, but I'd rather hear that than "here's what you can't do, deal with it." I just can't take this near-nihilistic realism seriously, because whenever these realists speak, there's an implicit "as far as we know" attached to whatever they say. And what we know just isn't all that far.

I wanted to talk about all these things, but whenever I tried to write anything meaningful about any of them, I just kept thinking: I'm going to die, probably sometime in this century. My friendship, love, courage, and optimism probably won't even really matter too much. Most everybody I know and care about will be dead with me, and soon my name and any mark I left on this world will be forgotten. All that I am, all that I've experienced, and all that I've contributed will vanish into the ether.

And that kind of sucks.

Some people turn to religion and faith to handle this. The idea that there's some greater purpose for all of us, and that what we do is being tracked and guided by someone is comforting. Or, at the very least, it offers a reason to get up in the morning. And that's all right. But I worry when someone says that it's fear of eternal punishment or offer of ethereal reward that dictates what they do—that's selfishness, dressed up in dogma. And besides, your religion could change: a tragedy could shake your faith, a Tibetan monk could inspire you, or two really charming people carrying copies of Awake! might make you rethink your beliefs. Or hell, maybe Earth really is just a little cell in some huge macro-organism, and we're just a virus infecting the planet, no more meaningful than a strain of avian flu.

I've thought about it, and I don't know what to think. The best I could come up with is the paradoxical idea that none of this could matter, so everything matters all the more.

If I'm going to be forgotten by everybody a couple of centuries from now, then maybe I should do my best to help make the lives of the people that are around me now better.

If my contributions are going to be meaningless after I die, then maybe I should start making some contributions that'll help someone else down the road do something great.

And if I'm going to die sometime in the next 150 years, then maybe I should start appreciating the time I do have—without the constraints of fear or misplaced anger hanging over me.

I know saying "I'm going to die" sounds macabre and horrible, but it's really not. It's liberating. And it's inspiring. And it's plenty scary, but it's the kick in the ass that I think I need more often than I'm willing to admit.

If I'm going to die, then fear of failure doesn't have the same paralyzing power it once had. Failure happens with such frequency and ferocity that not trying something because I might fail is like not trying to swim because I might get wet.

If I'm going to die, then pettiness and grudges become kind of pointless. I'm thinking of all the people with whom I've been angry or frustrated, and I can't imagine that it's worth wasting any more time fuming or whining about it.

And if I'm going to die, then I can't imagine the product of any sort of greed or avarice will do me good once I'm dead if I didn't use it to help others. I'm just taking a stab at this here, but I doubt that whatever god does exist takes PayPal.

Different societies, cultures, and religions set different standards for what is a life well lived. And there's a good chance that none of us have it exactly right. But what small common ground we can find with the diverse, disparate people of this world—those with good hearts—usually is no more than, "What have you done with your life that has made someone else's better?"

That could involve friendship, or love, or courage, or optimism. I don't know; I think we all have to find our own way there.

But what I do know is that I'm going to die. But first, some stuff is going to happen. Some of it will be good. Some of it will be bad. And I hope that, by the end of it, more stuff will have been good than bad.

And I hope the same for all of you guys, too. Good luck.

[Raise can of Shasta; toast.]

================================================
~ from inletspin.com

Congratulations Peppy Giuseppe! I'm so proud of you and I'm glad to see that your early work at the Milla News (recall its banning!) has paid off!

in the morning

2006-05-31T20:36:00.000-04:00

I started this post on April 8, about the previous Wednesday morning, and put it aside. It makes me cringe to read it now, not because of the memory, but because I often don't like what I write after a while. Here it is after some revision, despite which, I'll still cringe soon after posting ...

My lips were a flushed pink in the mirror, making my complexion look a shade lighter.

No one noticed the difference. I'm sure of that.

Something new had started. It was trying to get my attention, but I was sleepy, so I didn't quite feel the occasional, softly pressured, index finger poke. It followed me around and I sensed it peripherally, making me smile. At various intervals, I think it settled into a plush corner in my brain and fell asleep.

And throughout the day, there was the occasional throb of fear, wrapped in the felt of timpani sticks.

Thankfully, I like the timpani. Keeps the suspense. Makes things richer and drops out at the right time.

Hmmm...In all likelihood, no one will be able to tell what the hell I'm talking about.

fhwoop

2006-03-29T20:54:00.000-05:00

That's supposed to be the sound of everything being drained right out of me.

Except that I'm not actually physically tired, though it's almost 9 p.m. and I still have one more meeting to attend. I would be content to just sit and breathe for a while. No phone calls, no e-mails, no movement.

My ...

one of those days

2006-03-16T13:21:00.000-05:00

I'm having one of those days where I'm second-guessing everything I do. Did I say the right thing? Was that an intelligent comment? What if that's taken the wrong way? Did I just ruin a connection I was doing so well at forging?

I've been switching gears as I've gone from meeting to meeting, making impromptu comments and decisions in between. I was even tuning out at the last one. I'm pretty sure no one noticed.

I just hope I'm not screwing anything up. I like spaces to think. I'm not getting that today.

It's tiring and I'm hungry.

And I can't believe I've just turned down the opportunity to be a pirate!

where have all the maples gone?

2006-03-10T14:01:00.000-05:00

I'm super pissed that the 2 gorgeous, august maples on St. George are being taken down, as I type, due to construction. They sure were beautiful and breathtaking against the sunset, even in their current state of undress. Now, the street might as well be suburban, at least in its array of awkward, namby-pamby youth.

strange

2006-02-24T13:07:00.000-05:00

I had this really weird dream a couple of nights ago...
An infant in diapers was at break practice doing windmills. He got a few good rotations in then got up and walked over to me. With face muscles tentatively squeezing out tears and a plump hand on his lower back, he told me he was in pain. So I picked him up and gave him a hug. He was pretty damn heavy for a six-month old.

At breakfast a few hours later, my elbow slipped off the table and I spilled my coffee.

makes me laugh every time

2006-02-10T11:01:00.000-05:00

You got that good hair tooo..
You like what?
I like girls with that light complexion
ahhh man, you're a moron
I can't help it.
What? Being a moron?
Yeah.. that too
You the first one out there with a dashiki talking that crap
I'm a victim
Good hair, nigga you so brainwashed... I'm a victim brother... is the problem
You a victim....Yeah...shut up
I'm a victim of 400 yrs of conditioning
Shut up
The man has programmed my conditioning...mhmmm...even my conditioning has been conditioned.

-Black Star intro to Brown Skin Lady

i've been really weak lately

2006-01-30T23:45:00.000-05:00

Since I got back from the holidays, I've just been going, going, going.

I feel really terrible that there are a couple of people that I haven't talked to in over a month; and others, for more. Ugh! Like Tray! I'm also very thankful that people call me and are patient enough to wait for a return call; or impatient, and call again. I love that and it comforts me more than you know.

At this late hour, I have just had dinner. It's the story of my life lately. I know that all this will pass and I'll have time for the things that are more...well...selfishly important to me. But man, am I ever stretched to the limit!

Today was especially taxing. I'm so thankful for what turned out to be a great weekend in which I actually found myself at a high, then a terrible low, then at the Rivoli for great music and dancing. I even managed to see my family for a bit. It did wonders for me and made me stop thinking about work. If I hadn't furtively decided not to work at all this weekend, I don't think I could have handled today very well.

There are a number of situations to deal with. It's all so emotionally exhausting---an endurance test for my brain. Lately, as I listen to people's stories, I worry that I'll cry with them. I haven't, thankfully. Being in the situation isn't so bad. I focus and there isn't a moment of panic. Afterwards, though, I'm tired all over.

I actually think that the only reason I no longer feel the muscle pain from break practice is because my brain doesn't have room for it anymore. I was in pain until 5 pm, when the more serious stuff began. A couple of hours later, barely there.

I feel like I'm going through an indefinite cycle of being kneaded, flipped over, and being kneaded some more. And not in a massage kind of way. (I hate my mouse! It's doing all kinds of strange things, like dragging and dropping without being asked, and escaping off the screen!)

Ok. I will sleep now. But before that...thanks to my bestest friends in the whole entirestness of the universe, who listen to me talk about work (which I really, really try not to do, but then don't know what else to say) and have to deal with my emotions of late.

by Sam Brown, explodingdog

mmmm....

2006-01-28T12:35:00.000-05:00

breakfast...with bacon.

Bacon is damn good. As I was eating it with eggs, though, I started to feel my chest tighten (all psychological, I'm sure), but I thought, "Why the hell am I doing this to myself?" I took another bite of bacon ... "Mmmmm...That's why!"

It's a bright, sunshiny day. My aim is to get out there today. Maybe a good wander somewhere...

having trouble deciding how to vote?

2006-01-14T14:13:00.000-05:00

Take this quiz.

I'm supposed to vote Green.

something honest

2006-01-08T14:26:00.001-05:00

For the first time, something real and close to me. And current. Only 10 minutes have passed. Blogs are great so you don't have to really bother anyone with your sob stories.

So R called and left me 2 messages on Thursday.
"Merry Christmas, Happy New Year...in town 'til Monday...maybe I could see you before I take off."

Hmmm...To call back or not to call back. He's a human being that I loved a whole hell of a lot, judging from the effects of everything on me. How can I keep ignoring efforts at friendship?

Now, I have been bad at returning calls lately and answering e-mails. I've got a list of people to call back or e-mail back. So, it's not unusual that I waited until today to call. It does help that the chances he'll actually come downtown to see me are now terribly slim.

Anyway, I dialed the number. His mom answered. She's the sweetest thing ever, soft-voiced and gentle, someone who genuinely cares about people. When he left, we sat in the car and cried together. That was a little over 3 years ago.

She told me that she thought she recognized my voice. "I often think about you. I wonder how you're doing every time I drive by your street."

So I'm definitely not going to be able to see him tonight. I've got my answer. I told his mom that I, too, often think about how she's doing. My voice got shaky with the last digits of my phone number because she had just said, "Thanks. We're very fond of you", in a voice threaded with regret and understanding of what I had gone through.

I tried to sound as cheerful as possible, with my voice growing thin and rising in pitch to hide the tremble.

So I can't be his friend right now. I can't hang out with him. Though I'm completely over him, he triggers pain and sadness. R = call in the neurons of hurt. I won't do that to myself all over again.

I'm glad, though, that I'm beginning to understand exactly how much I did love him. I like knowing what I'm capable of.

i was having a pizza...

2005-12-19T21:42:00.000-05:00

at around 8:45 p.m. at Amato's on Bathurst and Queen. As Britney Spears's coy, innocence-veneered voice played somewhere above my head, I saw a man walk in, gesturing and talking to himself. His beard was graying and rested over the neckline of his ski jacket. The Calabrese is one fine slice, let me tell you...cheese oil glistening, thin crust crumbling in salty, spiced bits over my tongue...Then I notice one of the guys emerge from behind the counter. A tense, whispered argument was continuing. In the time measured by my eyes in tiny increments of space, the "patron" grew more irate as the pizza man grew more defensive. The patron gave pizza man a bit of a push while the other Amato's employees urged them out the door. I saw the pizza guy throw a punch. As a response? Who knows? Somehow, they separated and the pizza guys came back in and locked the door behind them.

The older man's anger jabbed at us through the glass, as though the transparency allowed for it...

...silence...

CRASH!

He broke a window pane, his words now definite punches. Fear trickled upward from somewhere in my belly and up to my chest. My physical safety hasn't been threatened in a really long time. Sometimes I wonder whether I've just forgetten how to react through years of training that taught me to check instinctive reactions. I kept eating my pizza, though, as I thought gratefully that there aren't as many gun owners here as there are in the States. I think the dough made a nice dam, keeping the fear from going to my head; I wasn't scared for very long. The urge to make sure that proper steps were being taken kicked in and I and asked pizza man whether the cops were on their way. I kept thinking that the Dundas police station isn't very far away. I finished my pizza and walked out the door without hearing a single siren in the distance.

"as you wish"

2005-12-02T15:56:00.000-05:00

"Aaaaas yooooouuuuu wiiiiiiiissh....", dear sweet Wesley called out as he rolled down the hill with a push from the Princess Buttercup.

I love the Princess Bride. I just heard the theme song on CFMX 96.3.

Brings back memories of cassette tapes, Clevedon Dr., tree tops in the distance, and my youthful over-active imagination.

first snowfall!

2005-11-24T01:17:00.000-05:00

...makes me warm and cozy inside. My daddy pointed out that it's snowing. It's so pretty and makes me smile.

I'm also looking forward to Christmas in a way that I haven't in a couple of years.

I'm so tired and sleepy. I don't seem to fall asleep, no matter how hard I try, until 2 a.m. I will make an attempt now.

But first, I'll stare out the window for a bit. The first snowfall only comes once a year, after all!

good ship lollipop

2005-11-18T00:20:00.000-05:00

I finally saw the Lollipop People yesterday. Newt's been telling me about them for a year. They were my Snuffleupagus. It was well worth the wait. Turns out the lead singer is this guy, from my music classes. He's rather unassuming, friendly, on the quieter side. But man, when Friendly Rich performs he is transformed! He writhes, yells, takes his pants off, and conducts a wild orchestra! It was awesome...a glorious aural chaos that's logical in the way only music can be. His voice reminds me of Tom Waits, which already, is a-okay by me. But when the band gets going, it's a crazy music box!

The Cameron House was a great venue for it, I'd say, with its overhanging bower of plastic foliage and velvet drapes. I spent some time watching the band through this sectioned mirror. Somehow, the music made even more sense.

At one point, this song (don't remember the title) sounded like scenes from a cardboard cutout fairy tale, with coloured Christmas lights punched through the background for stars, and a face-painted little girl as the heroine.

So good. Watching Rich reminded me of the cathartic abandon only ever possible when performing in a dimmed room with a rapt audience. At times I wonder about the link between exhibitionism and performance.

good night, sweet dreams

2005-10-29T00:10:00.000-04:00

I always post with some degree of trepidation.

I really do want to write more honestly. I admire the courage of those who do. Openness is a very difficult thing for me, but I feel the urge to attempt it on occasion.

Suddenly, I've lost my thought...let's see if I can get it back.

It has to do with assembling shelves myself. I nearly threw a tantrum. I came close to calling someone and whining for help. Plus, I wasn't feeling well. It was a tall shelf. It's really hard to put both sides together by yourself, especially when the first step is to get a thin rod to hold the sides together so you can build on it. Finally, I get that screwed in, only to find that I was wrong. I had to undo it and start the whole process again. Man, what I would've given to have someone just hold the other side up! So close, so close...

But, I did it. I even assembled a smaller one afterwards. I officially don't need anyone to take care of me. The dent on the wall says so.

do you know where you can buy happiness?

2005-10-24T20:24:00.000-04:00

Apparently, at Lenscrafters. Who knew? I can buy a new pair of glasses and that will make me happy. OH YAY! OH WOW!

That's dumb.

I'm not in the mood to practice, so I won't. I'm terribly tired from the weekend. I didn't sleep very well as I had to have a talk with someone on staff today. It made me anxious and I kept waking up. I don't know why I worry. I wasn't at fault. It went really well, actually.

I'm always conscious about being fair while making sure what I want done is understood. I suppose, in part, I'm afraid to become someone I don't like. If I'm not as analytical about what I do or say, I may become one of those unreasonable bosses. Didn't they all just lose it at some point? At the same time, after one reiteration, I expect it done and I can't tolerate irresponsibility and lack of forethought, especially when it puts others in danger. Man, was I angry! I served it up on a platter of diplomacy nonetheless.

I have to stop being so scared of messing up, though. I stress myself out too much. I have come to realize that I can generally allow people room for error...I'm not so good at allowing it in me.

I constantly try to live in that neutral space and I guess I find it hard sometimes. It takes a lot of brain power to see all possible sides and to give people the room they need. What's frustrating is coming across someone who doesn't seem to have thought things through and having to call them on it.

And suddenly I feel like taking this post in a whole other direction. And suddenly I think that I should, instead, assemble a shelf. I bet you anything I won't write tomorrow what I feel like writing now.

I sure wish other contributors would post. That would be good. I take so much time between posts.

why blog?

2005-10-16T23:24:00.001-04:00

I'm taking a break from practicing.

I was reading someone else's blog and he was talking to someone about what compels people to blog. He says it's to "prove the existence of your soul". Hmmm...maybe.

In my most restless moments I either sing, play the piano (sometimes inventing something suitable which I could never replicate, sadly), or, most often, close my eyes until the thoughts dissolve into breath and darkness. On rarer occasions, I talk to someone.

I don't know whether I'll reach the point of blogging openly. I do know that I feel most like writing when I do want to speak with someone, but I don't know how to bring up what I'm thinking in conversation. This inevitably means that if I give in to the urge to call someone, the person on the other end of the line will hear silence as I quickly try to think of something else to talk about. The ensuing words might as well be spoiled milk---I don't want it myself, so I spit it out and no one wants it in their ear.

It's late. I don't think I'll practice any more tonight, though I will no doubt berate myself for my lack of discipline tomorrow. Instead, I will shower and curl up with some Pablo Neruda that I have just purchased. I'm not sure that I'll like the translations...we'll see. I'm hoping to run into something rich and sensual, over-ripe with sweet nectar, unrestrained. From what little I've read of him, it seems his words are simply an excuse. He touches the mind only enough to disturb the senses. He reminds me of the limits of perception and that the tangible is a mere composition of approximations of the impalpable. Irresistable frustration, really---a sinister dance that spins me along towards what I hope will be real.

i need inspiration, NOW!!

2005-10-04T22:05:00.001-04:00

It's after 10 p.m.

I've got to practice, but I can't seem to. I've done well lately, getting 1 or 2 hours every night since Sunday. It's not great, but better than it has been.

I'm not sure how it happened, but I actually forgot that I have to practice.

I really need something to motivate me. Not even just to motivate, but to grip me and compel me. I need that feeling of getting lost in it, of passionate abandon.

I listened to some Bach English Suites today. I've decided on the second one. I was listening to Beethoven Sonatas, but the best ones are so overplayed that I'm not sure I want to do those. Plus, I have to balance the repertoire, so I can't go too dramatic.

AAARRRGGGGHHHH!! What to do?!

Well, here goes. I will make myself play. Maybe something will surprise me.

oh blogging, how i have missed you

2005-09-17T14:12:00.000-04:00

Who would've thought I would get the urge to blog? To write and make public certain thoughts...certain choice thoughts, which may not end up being very interesting because I really have to think about what I put on the net.

A couple of things I thought of writing about...

a) I looked out my window a few days ago, saw some guy tying (that spelling looks so weird to me today) his shoes and mused about how vulnerable people tying shoelaces look. Seriously. It's like you can give them the slightest push and they would topple over. I think I have had that vague morsel of a thought throughout my life, but that day it finally emerged as word-thought.

b) What the hell I've been up to for over a month. Wow. Just checked the date of my last entry and it was in July. Yeesh!!! But also, I haven't had a desk here. I now do, thanks to the reluctant kindness of Mathieu Lie Pail Key, who had to be bribed with food and an avocado shake before agreeing to assemble said desk.

I will not write here yet about my observations during my month of inhuman commitment to work. It would take too long.

c) circles - more on that another time

d) Alban - who rides an elephant in a castle. Well, maybe just a few words. Il est venu de la France et il m'a apporté des croustilles avec un sourire. Que belle chose à regarder. Cela nous a amusées hier soir!

Crap! I've got errands to do and my apartment to set up. Gotta go. I may just see you soon.

i believe my head will explode very soon

2005-07-20T20:30:00.000-04:00

I've suddenly been handed a new life, but I don't have it just yet, so I'm in between old and new. Let me tell you, it's brain-splitting.

Sleep isn't going so well as there are too many thoughts going round in my head. If I could have anything right now, I would just like a warm, engulfing hug that convinces me that all will fall into place and I'll do just fine.

today's story

2005-07-11T23:44:00.000-04:00

My morning was off to a terrible start as my mom and brother weren't ready to catch the GO, so I was 15 mins. late for work. Add the heat on top of that. Blech.

But then I picked up a copy of Dose and there was a pic I submitted this weekend. :) Except that from the way they listed the contributors' names, it looks like I took the second pic instead of the first. This was the pic I submitted:

just found this

2005-07-08T23:37:00.000-04:00

I just found this site called Post Secret.

From a girl who's got so many secret thoughts herself, I found the site to be...touching...in a heart wrenching, disturbing, sometimes funny, way. People send these cards in anonymously, which at first made me think they're still controlled by their secrets. But then I began to realize that many of the secrets are probably shared by innumerable people, so that they're not really anonymous...names don't really mean anything when one of the senders could very well be you, your friends, your family, maybe even the stuffed chicken looking at me sideways as it sits on my scanner.

2005-07-07T21:59:00.000-04:00

This was taken from Exploding Dog. It's just a test of blogger's new direct picture posting thing. It's rather handy dandy.

Ha! I wish we had coffee at work. I've now been offered coffee twice by grateful students. I really should've taken them up on their offer. That was dumb.

And this is a useless post.

the pages keep turning

2005-06-29T23:19:00.000-04:00

I love this Joni Mitchell song. I first heard it at a time of my life when each word rang true. Of course, I heard it as covered by Tori Amos.

A CASE OF YOU

Just before our love got lost you said,
"I am as constant as a northern star."
And I said, "Constantly in the darkness
Where's that at?
If you want me I'll be in the bar."
On the back of a cartoon coaster
In the blue TV screen light
I drew a map of Canada, Oh Canada
With your face sketched on it twice
Oh, you are in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you, darling
And I would still be on my feet
I would still be on my feet.
Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid
I remember that time you told me, you said,
"Love is touching souls"
Well surely you touched mine
'Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time
Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you, darling
And I would still be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said,
"Go to him, stay with him if you can
But be prepared to bleed"
But you are in my blood
You're my holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling
And I would still be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

Today, I heard the knob click closed on that door. I mean, the door was closed such a long time ago...no regrets, no wishes like dangling bait over my head...but there's something bittersweet to it all; watching his eyes, his mouth, his hand gestures, his smile, and knowing that I don't look at them the way I used to.

I returned the last traces...
- a copy of King Lear that I had used for VIC120. Incidentally, we never did buy that copy of "Mining for Sun" that we intended to buy.
- "Theology for Teachers", left over from his OISE course. Don't know why that was with me.
- a damn good stereo
- records
- guitar
- guitar music, "Tangos & Milongas"...we loved to tango. I even recall a dance outside the Gardiner Museum of Ceramic Art. He was my number one accompanist too.
- the oil burner in which we burned mogra oil, white lights around the ceiling...I took one last breath of memory.

"Goodbye. Have a safe trip." Click. Lock.

pride

2005-06-28T23:51:00.000-04:00

saw the pride parade from the top floor of the burger king on yonge and maitland. at some point, i started singing this song:

PINK TRIANGLE
(Weezer)

When I'm stable long enough
I start to look around for love
See a sweet in floral prints
My mind begins the arrangements
But when I start to feel that pull
Turns out I just pulled myself
She would never go with me
Were I the last girl on earth

I'm dumb, she's a lesbian
I thought I had found the one
We were good as married in my mind
But married in my mind's no good
Pink triangle on her sleeve
Let me know the truth
Let me know the truth

Might have smoked a few in my time
But never thought it was a crime
Knew the day would surely come
When I'd chill and settle down
When I think I've found a good old-fashioned girl
Then she put me in my place
If everyone's a little queer
Can't she be a little straight?

I'm dumb, she's a lesbian
I thought I had found the one
We were good as married in my mind
But married in my mind's no good
Pink triangle on her sleeve
Let me know the truth
Let me know the truth
Let me know the truth

I'm dumb, she's a lesbian
I thought I had found the one
We were good as married in my mind
But married in my mind's no good
Pink triangle on her sleeve
Let me know the truth
Let me know the truth

I'm dumb, she's a lesbian
I thought I had found the one
We were good as married in my mind
But married in my mind's no good
Pink triangle on her sleeve
Let me know the truth
Let me know the truth
Let me know the truth
Let me know the truth

the parade wasn't a big show of nudity, as i had heard it was in previous years. there were times when i got a really warm feeling about how happy people can be when they're not really worried about what other people are thinking. i also saw many people who were just so comfortable with their bodies that they didn't care what was hanging here and there. i know that not everyone appreciates this, but i thought it was rather refreshing. they were just having such a good time. i had the feeling, though, that the people beside us were laughing at the weirdest people at the parade. of course, i couldn't really understand what they were saying, but i am a laugh expert, so i know these things. ok, so i don't know for sure. just a feeling i had.

now this is strange. for some reason it looks to me like the spacing between the lines in this blog has decreased.

i can't believe i have taken work home. i'm going to give my first academic orientation session tomorrow and it feels like preparing for a class presentation.

as usual, i procrastinated so i'm still up.

a clip

2005-06-19T23:11:00.000-04:00

"Eep! Eep! Eep!", cried the girl in the red dress as she twirled around, backlit by the sun. She was ecstatic and wide-eyed, scared and excited, hopeful and uncertain. And all she could do was watch the scarlet-shadowed folds of her skirt collapse above her feet, reversing its direction from the force of momentum.

And that concludes today's story.

summer concerts

2005-06-11T19:45:00.000-04:00

I've gots da tickets for Weezer!! That maketh me happy...Come sit next to me, Pour yourself some tea...I'm dumb, she's a lesbian, I thought I had found the one, We were good as married in my mind, But married in my mind's no good...If you want to destroy my sweater, pull this thread as I walk away, watch me unravel, I'll soon be naked, lying on the floor, lying on the floo-or, I come undone!...

Oh yeah, that'll be a good one. Their last concert is in a tie with my Tori Amos front row concert experience. Two very different concerts, mind you.

Also on the list, Oasis and Coldplay.

What I need though, are more hip-hop concerts to round out my musical experience. Hmmm...maybe some really good head banging music too...and some drum concerts in the park like this one last year. Oh wow, was that only last year?...

Currently listening:

WHAT IF?
(Coldplay)

What if there was no line?
Nothing wrong, nothing right.
What if there was no time?
And no reason or rhyme.
What if you should decide, that you don't want me there by your side.
That you don't want me there in your life.

What if I got it wrong, and no poem or song
Could put right what I got wrong
Or make you feel I belong
What if you should decide that you don't want me there by your side
That you don't want me there in your life.

Oooh, that's right
Let's take a breath jump over the side
Oooh, that's right
How can you know it if you don't even try
Oooh, that's right

Every step that you take could be your biggest mistake
It could bend or it could break
But that's the risk that you take
What if you should decide
That you don't want me there in your life
That you don't want me there by your side.

Oooh, that's right
Let's take a breath jump over the side
Oooh, that's right
How can you know it when you don't even try
Oooh, that's right

Ohhhhh

Oooh, that's right
Let's take a breath jump over the side
Oooh, that's right
You know that darkness always turns into light
Oooh, that's right

i went camping for the long weekend

2005-05-24T22:10:00.000-04:00

...and witnessed the miracle of two people whose thoughts and words anticipate each other and whose bodies no longer demand respect of space.

And I thought it was beautiful.

Piano Makes you Crazy.

2005-05-16T13:43:00.000-04:00

The BBC has recently reported strong evidence that being a piano player, particularily a classical piano player, will probably make you go bonkers.

To learn more, please read this story on the BBC's website.

Also, why has no one commented on my post about watermelon carving? Were they not sufficiently exquisuite? I found the last few especially jaw dropping.

oh man!

2005-05-13T23:48:00.000-04:00

This site reminded me that I used to want Wonder Woman's invisible plane.

And omigod! LEGO musical instruments!!! OH WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the multiple blog problem

2005-05-07T15:35:00.000-04:00

I guess it isn't too much of a problem, except that I don't know who reads which one. So, in order that an event be publicized, I will direct you to the way i see it. The lucky people in my life will soon get an e-mail from me with an invitation to wander the city and look at stuff that others have seen.

Holy Good Grief!

2005-05-06T21:20:00.000-04:00

Peep this xtr33m H2OmLon l33tness!
from boingboing

once again from the lustrous and peerless boingboing.net

2005-05-02T13:53:00.000-04:00

Time Traveler Convention at MIT
MIT students are holding a Time Traveler Convention next Saturday in the hope that some visitors from the future might show up. I think it's a paradoxtastic plan!

Great idea, I'd love to help! What should I do?
Write the details down on a piece of acid-free paper, and slip them into obscure books in academic libraries! Carve them into a clay tablet! If you write for a newspaper, insert a few details about the convention! Tell your friends, so that word of the convention will be preserved in our oral history! A note: Time travel is a hard problem, and it may not be invented until long after MIT has faded into oblivion. Thus, we ask that you include the latitude/longitude information when you publicize the convention.

You can also make an absolute commitment to publicize the convention afterwards. In that case, bring a time capsule or whatever it may be to the party, and then bury it afterwards.

Can't the time travelers just hear about it from the attendees, and travel back in time to attend?

Yes, they can! In fact, we think this will happen, and the small number of adventurous time travelers who do attend will go back to their "home times" and tell all their friends to come, causing the convention to become a Woodstock-like event that defines humanity forever.

big ups to redcent

2005-04-30T18:06:00.000-04:00

ready to battle?

also...check out added pic to the pope post.

photoblogs make me want to travel

2005-04-24T13:56:00.000-04:00

...and dance the argentinian tango.

and also, i saw this picture of pope benedict xvi in the Toronto Star today. he had that hannibal lecter look that anthony hopkins made famous---insidiously calm and suspiciously human. anthony hopkins was acting. bennie was trying to erase his past and show a soft side. i'm kinda scared.

i'm being moved

2005-04-23T17:39:00.000-04:00

...by Edvard Grieg's Piano Sonata in E minor, Op.7. No piano piece has made me listen up recently. This is a good sign. Holy shit!...inexplicably haunting harmonies, so apparently simple. I can't figure out how sounds arranged just so can do this to me. It's all there, swimming in darkness and it makes me want to follow it. I really want to explain this. It makes me go into myself. Like the darkness without enters me and I follow it in, with pinholes of light trying to invade the impenetrable firmament.

so apparently, i'm still up

2005-04-23T00:57:00.000-04:00

...so naturally, i discovered this thingamajigger.

weird---a baby name wizard.

Dear Diary,

2005-04-23T00:26:00.000-04:00

i am very sleepy. my eyes are tired and droopy. i really should be sleeping, but the glowing monitor light draws me.

i feel like i shouldn't sleep because i haven't finished thinking about things that i want answers to, or at least that's my theory. not that i have trouble sleeping. believe me, when my head hits the pillow, i'm good as dead. but i think it's more like my mind doesn't want to quit yet. oh, silly mind, you're so silly. just look at you and that strange dance you do.

also, i wonder what i would write when i'm really tired and dazed. i will look at this in the morning and cringe, as often happens after reading my own posts.

blogging is really strange. why don't people just say things to each other? i guess the truth is, it's just hard to make conversation flow into a lot of areas that bloggers decide to publish about. it still seems ridiculous to me, but i can't help doing it on occasion.

maybe it's to reach a wider audience. again, very strange. why the need to have more people read your thoughts? unless, of course, it's of a creative nature. but if it's just babble like this piece of work, why do it? let's see, why am i doing it now? hell, i don't know. it's because i'm tired. and when tired, i become a robot of sorts. i simply respond to stimuli. bright light...must look at it...more...more...fingers...keep...moving moving moving...click...click...click...

sorry brain, you're just gonna have to rest for the night. maybe by morning, you won't remember what you're thinking about. damn memory.

damn, i'm thirsty.

The Subduction Zone - a short story by guacamole

2005-04-13T10:11:00.000-04:00

Jarvis and Peltier crash landed on planet Zwyg at 2:30 in the afternoon on a Sunday. Peltier wasn't ready to leave the spacecraft yet, so she had a quick nap, while Jarvis looked around outside.
"This looks a lot like my backyard," he said, before being eaten by a loka loka.
"I wonder how we'll get home," thought Peltier, watching Jarvis crawl around inside the loka loka. (Loka loka are transparent, and when they eat you, you don't die. They just drain you of all your sorrow, and then they eat your sorrow. Yum yum.)
Peltier climbed the nearest hill and looked towards the horizon. What she saw was so shocking to an Earthian that she would have fallen over if Jarvis hadn’t come up behind her, as happy as a kijy in miop, and grabbed her by the waist, yelling, "I love this place! Holy guacamole, what the heck is that thing?"
The End.

restless

2005-04-02T17:55:00.000-05:00

I’m feeling restless. I enter my bedroom, getting ready to go out, but I’m immobilized. I want to figure something out and I feel like I’m searching for answers in places in which I know they won’t be found, nudged by the creeping knowledge that I've already looked there; and even if I were to find them, I know I won’t listen.

Sometimes, I already think I know the answers. And then I think, “Who am I kidding? That’s the wrong answer.” It’s circular---a short track in my head. And it’s not even a nice track with a rich redness. It’s just gray and soggy like today. I trudge along, my feet sink and it’s an exhausting feat of will getting one foot up.

There’s a constant conflict between my nature, the way I know I work, and the nagging voice that wants to push its evolution, perhaps before it’s time.

I just get so tired of convincing and validating and accepting. I just want to throw it all up in the air and laugh at it all as it falls down where it might. But then I’ll just be accepting random outcomes, not owning anything but my ability to give everything important to me up to other forces. But how do you even know when that’s precisely what you should be doing? When doing that is an act of courage and not weakness?

2005-04-02T16:04:00.000-05:00

i needed to dry something quickly for tonight. so, i took my little but powerful Honeywell fan and pulled on an extension cord. of course, because i'm a little geeky klutz, i forgot that my lamp was plugged in. it fell and then i actually found myself saying sorry to the lamp...a couple times.

2005-03-27T01:38:00.000-05:00

via waterunderground:

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don't search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.

okay...

"The new prophets included Andreas Carlstadt (among the first to renounce vows of celibacy by taking a fifteen-year-old girl as his wife), who declared schools and studies the enemies of piety and proclaimed illiterates the only real Christians."

- Temperament: How Music Became A Battleground For The Great Minds of Western Civilization, Stuart Isacoff

the adventures of gimmick and newton - McVeigh's

2005-03-22T21:53:00.000-05:00

"I say, Newt, happy St. Paddy's Day."

"I say, Gimmick, happy Excuse-for-Drinking-Is-He-Really-A-Saint-Day to you."

"Did you know that the reason St. Patrick's Day is celebrated on the 17th is because they couldn't ascertain whether he died on the 8th or the 9th, so they added the numbers together?"

"I did not know that. And I know everything that could possibly be known."

"I don't know what kind of company I'll be tonight. I'm in a bit of a mood."

"Me neither. But that's ok, we can observe the rituals before us. Arrrrrr."

"Good. We need not speak. You sound like a pirate."

"Arrrrrr."

"Arrrrrr."

Newton stares at her mitts. Gimmick is mesmerized, for hexagonal prisms were sometimes landing, but more frequently ricocheting like laser beams off them. Apparently, in space, these black mitts appear every now and then and may be seen by the lucky ones as they wave past spaceship windows.

After a wait of an hour and a half, our heroines finally get into the gathering place of those who consume alcohol. It does not appear full and they wonder what sort of power trip the bouncers are on, making them stand in the increasingly cold darkness outside.

A threesome enters, a pair of whom are married. They are a friendly trio who like to raise their glasses in a toast with Gimmick and Newton, who really did not want to socialize with anybody.

Enter Bernoulli.

To Newton, who sits closest to the bar and is an easier target, "Hi", he flashes a drunken grin, "what are your names?"

"I'm Newton, she's Gimmick." Bernoulli doesn't seem to believe her. He may have fallen victim to the use of "aliases for making asses" and appears suspicious.

"Can I buy you girls drinks?"

"Why do you want to buy us drinks?", Gimmick queried.

"Someone over there won a lot of money."

Newton tries her best to say "no" with a smile, but she catches Gimmick's wide-eyed nod. Gimmick is thirsty and likes drinks. Newton has a change of heart and agrees to the drinks. Suddenly, Gimmick fears that he may drop Rohypnol into the beers and watches carefully as the bartender hands the pints over to Bernoulli.

Before Bernoulli returns, some panic sets in as Gimmick and Newton realize that they may very well be stuck talking to Bernoulli. This would be fine if he were a conversation specialist, but if the earlier brief discourse was any indication, this seemed miles away from Ireland.

Thankfully, Bernoulli simply hands them the drinks and leaves.

Or so they thought...

Berni, more inebriated than before, asks Newton what she would be called if she weren't Newton. Newton's response was not audible. He then asks the same of Gimmick.

"Just Gimmick is fine."

"How did you come to be called Gimmick."

"I don't know, but I'm sure glad I'm called that." Berni leaves, but later, a sceptical friend also questions their names. Gimmick soon regrets not having quipped, "Well, my momma, she got pregnant as a gimmick, see, then I popped out."

Around Gimmick and Newton, Irish folk tunes fill the air, thick with beer breath. Mmmmmm, yeah, that's right, sniff that, ooooh yeah. They observe that the married couple has left their friend behind.

He is rubbing a blonde woman's knee. She seems to enjoy this. Gimmick and Newton avert their eyes, but in a minute's time, they observe peripherally that the blonde girl is peeved. She rises from her chair, as Mr. Man seems to caress her bottom. It appears she has had enough, though, and proceeds to talk to another man at the table behind her. She then slow dances with another young lad.

As she becomes acquainted with the male patrons, a wavy-haired, self-proclaimed Scottish lass talks to Mr. Man. She gestures that he has obviously done something wrong. Gimmick looks away, watching the band play, for but a couple of blinks. This is, of course, enough time for Scotty and Mr. Man to lock lips.

Gimmick and Newton, despite their individual and combined genius, are at a loss. Here, in this dank establishment whose walls echo the chronicles of Irish yarns and truths, their powers of deduction and induction lost purpose. Just when they had recovered their composure and were satisfied with the knowledge that Mr. Man had found someone new, she too became indignant and walked away.

That's'aright, coz Berni returned, with his friend Blue Eyes.

Blue Eyes seemed to engage Newton's attention readily enough, or so Gimmick thought. He asked what Gimmick's occupation is outside of the pub, and was told that she is a pianist and amateur photographer. He asked whether she plays anywhere and did not seem impressed that she worked for an institute of high-cost occasional learning.

Berni then became rather comfortable next to Gimmick.

"So why don't you do a Master's?"

"I will, someday."

"Where do you work?"

"At an Institute of High-Cost Occasional Learning."

"Who's your boss? What's his name?"

"She's female. Her name is Nancy."

"What did Nancy study?"

"English."

"Do you think what you studied is better than what she studied."

Ok. What the hell kind of question is that?

"Time is your prerogative. You can do whatever you want. How old are you? 17, 18?..." Why is a 39-yr-old man buying a 17-, 18-year-old drinks? Geez Louise!! "When I was your age, I was nothing. I'm still nothing."

"Oh come now, no you're not."

"No it's true. I'm nothing."

"Then why should I listen to you?," Gimmick frowned, to which Bernoulli replied, "Good point. I like you. If you ever run for office, I will vote for you. I'll do anything you want. Honestly. Anything. I'm worth 25 million."

"Thanks."

And with that, Gimmick turned to watch the band.

In the meantime, Newton has had a conversation about how TV is bad and commented on how kids watch too much of it. Blue Eyes proudly proclaimed that he has kids and he sits them in front of the TV all the time. He didn't seem to know what else to do with them. Not even, oh, I don't know, handing them a little book, maybe.

Blue Eyes then left, disappointed perhaps that he did not find acquiescense in Newton's eyes.

But oh! What do Gimmick and Newton see?!! Why, the blonde woman seems to be making gestures of reconciliation toward Mr. Man!! Oooooh...WRONG!

She growls, "Fuck you! You're what they call a "Bay Street Quickie"! This is a term? Seriously? Mr. Man had nothing to say but, "Buhh.....? Duhh....." as he blinked, obviously too drunk to know exactly what the fight is about.

Newton and Gimmick longed for the world outside, where, even if many things did not make sense, they were not of the nature of goings-on in dark, cavernous watering holes. (Well, ok, they are at times, but not concentrated in a small, increasingly surrealistic enclosure.)

It's comforting, however, that the saintly life of Patrick is remembered and made holy with a sprinkling of blessed Guinness, a friendly gathering of the congregation, and a fervent renunciation of the Bay Street Quickie Devil.

2005-03-21T23:11:00.000-05:00

I want to trace your lips
and justify the way
they shape the breath
that sighs my name

more borrowed words

2005-03-12T15:59:00.000-05:00

I'm not too comfortable publishing my own words for the public to read. So, I'll borrow words. I might even learn the chords and play and sing this one.

SLOW LIKE HONEY
(Fiona Apple)

You moved like honey in my dream last night
Yeah, some old fires were burning
You came near to me and you endeared to me
But you couldn’t quite discern me

Does that scare you? I’ll let you run away
But your heart will not oblige you
You’ll remember me like a melody
Yeah, I’ll haunt the world inside you

And my big secret - gonna win you over
Slow like honey, heavy with mood

I’ll let you see me, I’ll covet your regard
I’ll invade your demeanor
And you’ll yield to me like a scent in the breeze
And you’ll wonder what it is about me

It’s my big secret - keeping you coming
Slow like honey, heavy with mood

Though dreams can be deceiving
Like faces are to hearts
They serve for sweet relieving
When fantasy and reality lie too far apart

So I stretch myself across, like a bridge
And I pull you to the edge
And stand there waiting
Trying to attain
The end to satisfy the story
Shall I release you?
Must I release you?
As I rise to meet my glory

But my big secret
Gonna hover over your life
Gonna keep you reaching
When I’m gone like yesterday
When I’m high like heaven
When I’m strong like music
’cuz I’m slow like honey, and
Heavy with mood

woah is me!

2005-03-04T01:34:00.000-05:00

this is some funny funny ish.

right click and save as...

fool me once, shame on... shame on ... you .... uh ... ahfoolmecantgetfoolagain

cleverness

2005-03-02T00:49:00.000-05:00

I recently received a telegram from my old friend Carinci Repi. Be careful though -- Repi is dangerous.

Normally I'm not one to replicate ad nauseum those chain letters and humourous telegrams that dimwitted acquaintances are always sending, but this collection of stellar wordplay demonstrates a keen wit and genuine pith.

I have taken the liberty of removing those entries which I did not find funny.

The Washington Post's Style Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are this year's winners:

1. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

2. Foreploy (v): Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

4. Giraffiti (n): Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

5. Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person
who doesn't get it. [Von Mustard note -- This word was seriously lacking from our vocabulary. I find myself in this unfortunate circumstance quite often]

10. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.

14. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

15. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you're eating.

16. Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an
asshole.

a sick day in the life of...

2005-03-01T13:17:00.000-05:00

I had this thought about blogs and how they keep you company when you're all alone; when you want to talk to someone but for some reason decide that it's best not to.

So, here I am, off again. I woke up before 6:30 a.m. I always do this now, and I hate it. I WANT SLEEP, DAMN IT!! And no, I am not sleeping in because I am now a responsible adult, and I know that if I sleep in, I will mess up my sleep schedule, and when I finally go back to work, I will be dead tired from not having slept the night before.

So, lets see...I've decided that at various points throughout the day, I will post something. A documentation of my life as a sick person, in answer to the question, "If you had a day off, what would you do?"

Well, first of all, if it weren't snowing like this, and if I weren't sick, and if it were warm, I would sit on our porch with a book and headphones, and not actually read but look at the sharp outlines of everything against the azure of a bright sky.

But what I have here is a snowdrifty day, which is nonetheless pretty, viewed from the spaces between the shadowy gray lace pattern relief of my curtains.

To whom is this post directed, to me, really, I'm interested in seeing what I really do in a day, what thoughts go through my head. I will reread it all, of course, and hopefully it will be somewhat amusing. I'm ok with it being eyelid-heavy-with-sleep boring too, though.

8:06 am - breakfast consists of a slice of whole wheat toast with strawberry jam. [ooh, coughed up phlegm! good job! gotta get rid of this.]

2005-03-01T11:31:00.000-05:00

what's up at 11:31 a.m.?

Well, not much. I drank coffee. Mmmm...coffee. Incidentally, this verse from Maroon 5's "The Sun" keeps popping into my head:

the rhythm of her conversation
the perfection of her creation
the sex she slipped into my coffee
The way she felt when she first saw me
Hate to love and love to hate her
Like a broken record player
Back and forth and here and gone
And on and on and on and on

And then I read about the following:

- the resignation of Lebanon's Prime Minister Omar Karami
- the difference between British and American smiles (I had seen this a couple weeks ago already in the Globe and Mail's Social Studies section)
- the "pacemaker" treatment for depression

Everytime I think of various demonstrations, manifestations of political agendas, etc. I always think back to living in Metro Manila during the time of the Edsa Revolution. We, as kids were highly aware, perhaps more than could be fully comprehended, of the political atmosphere of the time.

I asked Kent if he feels a strong need, after reading such articles, to expound on the subject. He says that he does. I wondered, then, at the absence of such a need in me. He talked about the political and strategic advantages the would be reaped by the U.S. if they can successfully rid Lebanon of Syrian leadership. Agreed, agreed. But why get worked up? I mean, personally, if I get angry about it, what good will it do?

Sounds terribly simplistic of me, doesn't it? Obviously, I think the awareness is important, which is why I really would like to understand why it provokes little reaction on my part. My response to him was, "Yeah, well, that's nothing new. Are people surprised by this? Doesn't everyone who reads the paper, hears the news, realize this?" The answer is, obviously not, perhaps too much credit is given where not due.

I wonder, too, how much of the conflict around me while I was growing up served to make me thankful that I need not immerse myself in political strife. Did it actually affect me enough so that I either (a) have become desensitized, or (b) want to run from a discussion in which opposing sides will never relent and which will not enact a change on a global scale? Not good either way, I seem to display and contribute to apathy, in an effort not to cause ripples. Hmmm...ripples can be fun, though.

Maybe HAVING to read and report on Current Events at a young age has made politics into my bitter vegetable. I care, I really do, but I can't seem to get angry enough, perhaps a bad sign of resignation. I don't like this resign. I try, I really do, but there it is.

Ok, must eat. On the lunch menu...roast beef, eggs sunny side up on rice. Yum!

2005-03-01T11:29:00.000-05:00

it hurts more and more to sit here

It's 1:17 p.m. I feel worse. Coughing hurts more.

I can't decide what to listen to. I'll see how I do with some Fiona Apple.

So, at 9:30 a.m. today, I watched...you ready for this?...The Prince and Me. I was warned of its linear plot. Immediately, however, I realized that this was not the case. The opening scene alone showed the complexity of the work. The Prince of Denmark was relishing control of his speeding car while unbenowst to him, in the land of Wisconsin, his future love relished the same high speed as she strove to make her friend's wedding.

Of course, there's the character development. Paige has dreams. She plans on going to med school and joining Doctors Without Borders. The Prince, Eddie, hasn't a clue. Could such a mismatched pair make it in the harsh light of reality? But of course! Nothing is more endearing to a smart girl than a guy who can't tell whether colours go into the cold or warm water. I completely understand!!

After all, he understands Shakespeare! Oh, to hear the poetry of the Bard uttered by luscious lips as both realize that they are art. Art and Science, colliding, defying the force that threatens to pull them apart---the 360-degree-times-a-thousand, nauseating camera spin that somehow makes them stand still in its eye.

So she abandons her dreams, decides to be Queen of Denmark. Who can resist the delicate butterly Prince Eddie frees from his palm to reveal a tantalizing diamond ring?

But her reason wins. She decides to follow her dreams, not his. But love, oh love, conquers all. Eddie's heart, won over by her independence and strength, appears at her convocation and pledges his undying love that will wait until her dreams have been realized. Love doesn't die with distance! Wove, twue wove [Princess Bride reference, in case you didn't catch it] waits, waits, never withers. For it is grown from the rich, indelible, red soil of the heart (or P.E.I.?) which is of the infinite spirit!

I watched it anyway. It was taped at U of T, lots of St. Mike's shots and even a shot of Innis.

Plus, deep down, I know I still want to believe in fairy tales.

the song in my head for a good 3 days now

2005-02-27T17:10:00.000-05:00

IF I FELL
(Lennon/McCartney)

If I fell in love with you
Would you promise to be true
And help me understand
'Cause I've been in love before
And I found that love was more
Than just holding hands

If I give my heart to you
I must be sure from the very start
That you would love me more than her

If I trust in you, oh please
Don't run and hide
If I love you too, oh please
Don't hurt my pride like her
'Cause I couldn't stand the pain
And I would be sad if our new love was in vain

So I hope you see that I
Would love to love you
And that she will cry
When she learns we are two
'Cause I couldn't stand the pain
And I would be sad if our new love was in vain

So I hope you see that I
Would love to love you
And that she will cry
When she learns we are two

If I fell in love with you

here's how it is...it's like this, see....

2005-02-23T00:01:00.000-05:00

i have this "boat". this really great boat. but i never use it!!! i could be zipping around, taking people for rides in my boat, seeing the sights, having a smashing good time. but instead, it sits there, in my garage, collecting dust.
and then i have this friend. and she ain't got no boat. she really wants a boat so she can see the world, but tough luck and too bad for her. some people gots boats, some people don't.
so, since i'm not using my boat, i should just give it to her, yeah? and then she can use it. because it's not being used, and what a waste. a waste of a good boat.

2005-02-13T22:35:00.000-05:00

Imagine if footsteps piled, tangibly, one on top of the other! We'd suffocate with history. We'd be born on top of them. We'd fall into the spaces between. Everyday, we'd be sooo tired just trying to push our way through! I guess we couldn't really build anything on top of them. Footstep shovelers would have to work 24/7 just to clear the way for the next minute.

"Meson Soup" - a one-act play by guacamole

2005-02-06T14:00:00.000-05:00

THE CHARACTERS:
PI MESON, a beam
HYDROGEN, an atom
OTHER PARTICLES

ACT ONE

A bubble chamber, at SLAC. HYDROGEN floats, looking bored. PI MESON enters, with a momentum of 10 GeV/c, and slams into HYDROGEN.
PI MESON: Wham!!!
HYDROGEN: Ow!!!!
OTHER PARTICLES: We're free!!!!
A camera takes pictures, and the film is analysed by guacamole.

it's like falling in love

2005-01-26T21:16:00.000-05:00

Huh? What? God...she's getting mushy and cheesy and all things bad!! Someone hit her on the head!! Make her shut up! NO!!! Don't even let her start!! Oh no...there she goes...

Yeah...so real thoughts...you up for it? Oh god, I'm blogging real thoughts. I need a pill, maybe.

I was just thinking how my relationship with the piano IS like falling in love. I don't know why I can't touch the thing these days. You know, like how some days that person you couldn't get enough of, couldn't get your hands off, is unbearable to be around. You know what I mean?

When I was in first year, this guy named Greg asked why I don't just go ahead and audition for performance. He had the audacity to tell me that I'm just afraid of failure. He made me so angry. What the hell did he know about me anyway? PLUS, it was frosh week. What is he? Some visionary sage? But his comment haunts me to this day. It doesn't make me practice, though.

For a long time now, I've thought that I'm simply afraid to fail at the one thing that has been with me for as long as I can remember. When I don't want to be around people, that has always been there. I used to get completely lost in it.

At the same time, I felt like it took me away from my friends, especially when I was way younger. Kids played outside and I practiced inside. Part of my inability to commit had to do with knowing that I could become isolated and I think I needed to learn how to balance that. I had a loving piano teacher in Gr. 8 who actually suggested that I quit school and just do music. HA!

Then, of course, when I headed off to university, I realized I would be leaving it behind. And, somehow knowing that long-distance relationships are hard to keep up and that many don't work, I just couldn't leave it behind.

[Oh man, I suddenly have a sharp pain on the right side of my head. Blogging thoughts like these don't agree with me.]

Still, I wasn't ready. I played the piano more than I read philosophy, than I did calculus, than I worked on computer programs, than I worked on French. Then, I adjusted to being on my own and I left the piano behind for a bit. I'm so hot and cold that way.

Then, I fell for someone else and got side-tracked. Wait a second, this whole analogy makes me a two-timer! Eeeeek! I was having an affair!!! How silly of me!

But it waits for me patiently. It calls to me gently. It breaks my heart to ignore its faux ivory smile. I feel myself slowly going back to it. But it's really, really scary. One more shot...that's all I've got. When I try again, it'll have to be with everything I have. I guess if it doesn't work, I just don't want to hate it. I don't want it to hurt when I think of it caressed and coaxed into tenderly passionate supplication in someone else's hands. Those tiny pricks I feel now whenever I hear classical piano would become violent stabs.

I mean, what if it doesn't work? Can we ever be friends? At least this way, it just kind of pinches, but I can still visit for hours and enjoy myself.

So...I will read this another time, and if I absolutely cringe. I will pull this post.

I do intend to dive in eventually, though. I'm working my way there. I realize that it's stupid to wait until everything feels right because that never seems to happen. Time just slips away. So...when I'm not so tired and sleepy from this fucking commuting [I swore!!]... Shit!... [oopsies], I will make up a practice schedule.

I think I'll go throw up now. I can't stand this diary-type blogging thing. No more! No more, I tell ya!

the last gleam

2005-01-16T17:47:00.000-05:00

At approximately 4:30 pm today, I watched as the last embers of black liquid crystal fire were gradually extinguished on its once-joyful face. I recalled the many conversations that were its blood; conversations that connected souls...some meaningful, some forced. It was the instrument of emotion---anger withheld, pain-in-your-tummy laughter, sympathetic tears, nervous anticipation, expectant silences.

Part of me wants to keep it somewhere where I will come across it---a jolt of memory---in an unforseeable number of years. I will look at it and remember what that phone meant to me in the two and a half years or so that its irritable ring linked me with those important to me, and with those whom I didn't know but may very well lock eyes with on the street.

If I don't keep it, at least its photograph will remain here forever.

socialites go crazy

2005-01-07T19:57:00.000-05:00

so that's what happens to blondes. it really is true. this book looks good. this book looks good. this one...mmmm....this one looks long. family matters. have you read fine balance yet? oh i have that. a lot of these books i liked but didn't love. i have to read that. i'm just looking for a book that tells a good story. i think that a lot of these i can see what they're trying to do, and it's good, but i just want to be entertained. there's something about a tribe...and everyone has the plague of insomnia. my sister didn't get it, cause there's supernatural stuff in it. it got interesting but it wasn't like "oh that took me away"

2004-12-25T17:01:00.000-05:00

Hurt me. At least then you'll have left your mark.
Proof of your life grazing mine.

this is of the awesome type

2004-12-05T15:29:00.000-05:00

www.cyphic.net/zoomquilt/zoom.htm

courtesy of guacamole who neglected to post this here, though i suppose neglect only occurs in cases in which there is an expectation of a standard of action, so maybe it isn't the right word to use in this case

2004-12-04T13:18:00.000-05:00

He stands, leaning against the slender trunk of the second tree from the corner, perhaps to steady himself in case she finally returns.

Red jacket, unrivaled by autumn's innocently spiteful fire; hair slicked back, oddly debonaire, each strand huddled in defiance of their undeniable history.

Most mornings, a playful deviousness betrays his thoughts. A glance reveals the phosphorescent spark that illuminates, for a moment, the scene he directs to perfection in his mind.

He was gone yesterday. Today, the chill has gotten to him. He is hunched over slightly, drawing himself in for warmth. Someone has met his eyes and has asked why he waits. He looks at nothing, with matted gaze. He has no answer and can't bear to be questioned.

and now for a poem

2004-10-27T20:24:00.000-04:00

DRUNK AS DRUNK

Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the strake
Of our boat that is made out of flowers,
Feasted, we guide it -- our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal --
Over the sky's hot rim,
The day's last breath in our sails.

Pinned by the sun between solstice
And equinox, drowzy and tangled together
We drifted for months and woke
With the bitter taste of land on our lips,
Eyelids all sticky, and we longed for lime
And the sound of a rope
Lowering a bucket down its well. Then,
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles,
And lay like fish
Under the net of our kisses.

- Pablo Neruda (transl. by W.S. Merwin)

2004-10-06T22:08:00.000-04:00

"I felt happy inside the songs...where sorrow wasn't playful, laughter wasn't mocking, love wasn't laughable, and hate wasn't shy, where people love with all their body and soul...where people dance for joy and leap into the Danube in devastation"

- Milan Kundera, The Joke

definition of sovereignty

2004-08-17T11:48:00.000-04:00

I've often wondered. I'm glad I now have a good source of reference.

word

2004-08-09T01:07:00.000-04:00

http://playlist.yahoo.com/makeplaylist.dll?id=1277881&sdm=web&qtw=480&

i want.

powers of ten

2004-07-25T10:27:00.000-04:00

try this thing (read the descriptions, too!). you start at the subatomic level and end up..well, far away.
first zoom out (click on the squares), then turn around and zoom in.

fuzzy patches in space

2004-07-15T21:51:00.000-04:00

i really want to visit a nebula.
nebula nebula neb-you-laaa.
either a planetary one, or an emission one, or a dark one, but not a reflection one.
it's not fair. why couldn't i have been born in an age of interstellar space travel???

winnebago man

2004-07-15T21:27:00.000-04:00

if i have to marry a human, i want him to be like this guy.

Parthian shot

2004-07-14T19:08:00.000-04:00

I learned something new today: A pithy, final remark made during departure is a parthian shot. It's a reference to the mounted archers of the ancient country of Parthia (which dates back somewhere between yore and yesteryear) who had a penchant for pretending to retreat but continuing to shoot arrows at their enemies behind them. Digging a little deeper, I learned that the Parthians also developed an early coinage system, the first recognizable feudal system on record, and, obviously, the addition of parthian shot to the lexicon. Unfortunately, the Parthians' contributions go largely unrecognized, and even parthian shot has been transmorgified into the less historic parting shot. I've decided I'm going to make a concerted effort to use parthian shot, not just to impress all the hip, phat linguistics kidz but to give these ancient people their due.

The point I'm trying to get to is this: Is it wrong that I giggled when I first read "mounted archers"? Seriously, what am I, nine?

sign that God exists #1

2004-07-11T17:42:00.000-04:00

I cooked linguine the other day. After draining it, I looked at the amount in dismay because I had made too little. I was really, REALLY hungry. My temper rose and I berated myself for not being able to tell how much pasta to cook (I can get very, very grumpy when I'm hungry). I couldn't cook more because I had to leave. So, with a pout on my lips, I opened the microwave to take the sauce I had reheated. I looked into the bowl and saw that there was just enough sauce to cover the pasta in the way I like it. I thanked God. Really, I did. He must have known I couldn't handle disappointment that day. I hate pasta without enough sauce.

*God may refer to any spiritual entity. If you don't believe in such a thing, perhaps you could think of it as 'your lucky stars'. For example, "I thanked my lucky stars."

take this alternate route

2004-07-09T20:03:00.000-04:00

Take masking tape out of your kitchen drawer and tape the plastic in which your old cheddar cheese is wrapped. Next, put the cheese in the drawer and place the masking tape in the fridge to chill until next use.

People cocooning more, socializing less at home:study

2004-07-08T11:51:00.000-04:00

This was taken from the University of Toronto News website: http://www.news.utoronto.ca/index.asp. I have urges to "cocoon" that I fight off, knowing that I could very easily become a hermit. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I was beginning to think something was psychologically wrong with me. It also explains my brother's basement-dwelling, hermit tendencies.
===================================
Change in the use of the dwelling space result of social and demographic changes

June 23, 2004
by Sue Toye

Throwing lavish dinner parties may be a fading trend. According to a U of T study, people are socializing less with their family and friends at home but, instead, are spending more time at home alone.

“As a result of social and demographic changes, the private dwelling is less of a context for social company,” says Glenn Stalker, a PhD student in sociology and author of the study, Change in the use of the dwelling space as an environmental context for social engagement during leisure time, 1986 to 1998. “That is largely due to changes in the structure of the family, higher rates of separation and divorce, smaller households with fewer children, delayed marriages and more individuals living alone.”

Stalker, under the supervision of sociology professor William Michelson, examined three sets of data from the Canadian General Social Survey from 1986, 1992 and 1998. He analysed where Canadians spent their leisure time (at home, in transit, outside the home) and with whom: themselves, friends and family and other members of the public.

Stalker found that in 1998, Canadians spent 34 per cent of their spare time alone at home, up from 28 per cent in 1986. In addition, time spent with friends and family at home dropped to 58 per cent of their leisure time in 1998, a decrease of five per cent from 1986. He also found that although people are spending slightly more time outside their home with friends and family in places like cafés or restaurants, this growth has not kept pace with the decline in home-centred social contact.

The study, partially funded by Statistics Canada, will be presented at the International Housing Conference in Toronto June 24 to 27.

lotus bugs

2004-06-26T10:46:00.000-04:00

There are tiny bugs in my room, which research has revealed injects a poison that kills ever so slowly.

These insects are cleverly camouflaged, as they have the ability to change their colour according to their surroundings. As an unsuspecting human lays his or her head at night, it punctures flesh with a half-inch-long needle, injecting its liquid lullaby into the bloodstream.

The victim will not die right away, nor suffer. The clever venom induces sleep at the appropriate hour(s) so that the bug's prey succumbs to an increasingly deeper sleep as days, months, years, pass. The poison works deftly on the body, until death, leaving doctors/coroners to declare the death a natural one.

One case, however, alarmed doctors and caused researchers to turn their bespectacled gaze. A 55-year-old man, in perfect health, was found dead in his bed. His pallid face wore a self-content smile, disconcertingly out of place.

A few more similar cases caused funds to flow into research facilities around North America. Twenty years of research finally revealed traces of the venom in the victims' blood.

Though research is far from conclusive, it has been reported that those who may have been bitten will exhibit most of these symptoms:
- difficulty falling asleep (due to a subconscious memory of being bitten)
- falling asleep easily, for the same reason as above. Those in this category have developed an addiction to the insidious poison.
- difficulty getting up in the morning, characterized by repeated slamming of the snooze button
- a possible caffeine addiction
- scratching of the skin for no apparent reason, and no evidence of a bite (e.g. welts)
- falling asleep while reading
- propensity to nap
- inability to concentrate

These symptoms may, correctly, be attributed to other causes, making the condition difficult to diagnose. Doctors who suspect that patients may have been poisoned should immediately seek a specialist's advice.

The only known method of prevention is applying one's own saliva in a thin layer all over the skin before bedtime. The enzymes contained in the saliva appear to make it difficult for the lotus bug to find suitable entry. Application of the saliva must be done thoroughly, however, as this insatiable bug WILL have its way.

what is going on in the fifth dimension right now?

2004-06-25T20:32:00.000-04:00

my husband is hungry. he is knocking things over. i keep telling him to stop.
myrtle insulted his cousin at our wedding. she doesn't remember because her memory was wiped out (zorgonian tradition).