Off The Grid

Well, I'm off to Cuba now! I'm going from Havana to Santiago de Cuba and back, returning home in the New Year. January 1st is Triunfo de la Revolución (Liberation Day) in Cuba, so I expect that New Year's is going to be quite the experience. It's my first visit, I'm going alone, and I don't really speak Spanish anymore...so I'm excited but a little nervous. It's going to be amazing. ¡Adiós todos, le ven en el Año Nuevo!

The List

Back in the late 90s, Louis moved into my place in Waterloo, Ontario. We're both psychotic, so inexplicable insanity was always on display at the apartment. We were constantly laughing at things until we were crying, choking, in pain, stamping our feet, and unable to function at all. Eventually we decided to post a piece of paper in the kitchen where we could write down the things that we laughed at. We kept taping new pieces of paper onto it until Louis moved to Montreal and the tradition was halted. We ended up just short of a hundred items on the list, and it is now known as The 98 Things Spage & Louis Laughed At In Waterloo. The original includes pictures and accents to words, I still have it in a box somewhere, saved for future framing. There's probably nothing on it that makes any sense to anyone but Lou & I, but if you want to ask about any of them, I'd be more than happy to give you the attached story. Without further ado, I present,

The 98 Things Spage & Louis Laughed At In Waterloo

1. "I want to jump in a lake!"

2. Penny stairs

3. "Check the O.R., you like it so far?"

4. Dancing the Nutcracker Ballet

5. The cat must think we're insane

6. We want to hang things around the cat's neck

7. "Yes I dooo..."

8. The Face

9. "Now my pudding is trapped forever!"

10. Hiding the angel

11. Peeking at the foreign people

12. Running with laundry

13. "Quesadilla requires pita!"

14. The Love Connection Dance

15. The can of Meestory!

16. Svetlana

17. Fig-it

18. "You must build me a theatre, you must come everyday and you will be paid very well. Everyday you must come visit me, and we will have conversations about many things."

19. Transexual Pea

20. Looking for bodywash

21. Wrong hour

22. "Do you want to see my impression of a chow chow?"

23. Stretching while touching elbow

24. Exploding Twizzlers

25. Soft Strong

26. Sticky Goo

27. Bpppppt

28. Anti-Freeze

29. "I don't like you oh my god."

30. 42 in a row

31. Atzpee

32. Some kind of War

33. Puking Head

34. Yes/No

35. Delusional Clam

36. Woody Game

37. Wax?

38. Discount Cat Coupons

39. Natural Phenomenon

40. Hm: The Many Definitions

41. "But you can't write with sounds."

42. De-salinization of tears

43. "Wa wah wawawawawa waaaah!"

44. Gigantic Surprise

45. Chinese Rabbit Hair

46. Flush a brush

47. Showcase Teddy Bear

48. "The calendar is on the TV because it rained."

49. "Oh my gawd! It snowed so much! Do you know what this means?"

50. "Madonna was married to Sean Penn??"

51. Grapes

52. Watches, Igloos & General Insanity

53. "Must be Santa..."

54. Butt Chasing

55. "Why don't I just buy duck?"

56. "Who cares?! You're going to be wearing a coconut brassiere!"

57. "Y'know the little Starbucks kwt?!"

58. "So, we're not getting up until 1?"
"No, noon!"
"Oh no! That means I can't go to the washroom!"

59. "...my language."
"Your language!"
"My language!!"
sub-clause: simple and sexy

60. "We should gas some people."

61. Demonstration of floor space

62. "Are you ready?"
"Oh no!!"
"New pack? Wait! I want to see the ceremonial opening! Oh! Now we have to go to the garbage can!"

63. Misunderstanding the pee conversation

64. "Ryan Raymond Richdale...sounds like a BBQ sauce."

65. "Hi! It's me, are you there?"

66. Maniacal pee ("How does one pee like a maniac?!")

67. Cat buttcheeks

68. "Hey you guys, this thing is FREE!!"

69. *laughing* "He could say anything!"
"Yeah, he could say; 'There's pus coming out of my ear!'"

70. Mickey Mouxe - not Mouxe Mouse

71. lalalalala la blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah yeeeeeee! foo nah!

72. *singing* "No it doesn't" "It totally does"

73. Happy Feet

74. Falling off the Truck of Knowledge

75. The Egg Cup who couldn't speak

76. "Oh my god! Branjeet called?!?"

77. "I know what you're doing!"

78. "What do you mean 'That's like me'?? Oh...you mean 'That's like me'."

79. "Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat! You should go to war!"

80. "We need groceries dude."

81. "We're going to have a toilet paper crisis soon."
"When?"

82. The Giant Cookie (and how to get it into one's apt.)

83. "Ha ha ha ha!"
"No! Not that!"
"No, I was thinking about something completely different."

84. Liquid shit

85. Waking up to uteran flesh

86. "Is it a catalogue?"
"Yes, it's a catalogue, 'Here's some things you might like to buy - Merry Christmas!'"

87. for me, for you

88. "For your schedule next week; when do you know?"

89. "Yes, we are getting waves on the sides."

90. "Remember, when you're in New York, and someone hands you a pill
and says 'Swallow this!', what do you do?"

91. "The drug dealers are so crafty!" (As in Arts & Crafts)

92. "Shoe" Status

93. "I'm not yet sexually attracted to my video game character."

94. "Who would ever know that's a fireplace?"
"The little green elves that say 'Ma'!"

95. (During Halloween Bowl Toss) "That's why I can't throw knives."

96. (During Halloween Bowl Toss) "You look like you're in the trenches."
"I am!"

97. "We're not supposed to take pictures of these games, because then
there's evidence that they exist."

98. "What the hell was that?!"

Atheist Christmas Digression

Wookiee and I were talking the other day about religious labels. I was being subjected to Karaoke Xmas Carols at work for a manager sponsored 'party'. I was on the phone with Wookiee and commented that I refused to sing praise to God. Carol after carol came on talking about the faithful, adoring Him, worship, Jesus, and all that shit. I mean, I won't even sing the God line in my own National Anthem ("God keep our land"), I just join back in at "glorious and free". Now to be fair, ChristMass is mostly all about that religious stuff (except to me it's just the commercialism side), so people should take part in whatever they want, I'm not condemning it, I just don't take part. Anyway, we got on a tangent about how we define ourselves in this respect. Wookiee said that we are, of course, atheists. I agreed, but pointed out that it's not quite accurate, for example, our after death beliefs, while not identical, are more complex than a single currently accepted word can define. I don't like to use the term "other", because I do find it necessary to make it clear that this is a No God Zone. So I suggested a modification of terminology that will be my new answer for those who ask where my spiritual tendencies lie - I think, that Wookiee and I, are Atheist Plus.

Magnetic Poetry #1

mist

our screams are gone
robbing me of all recall
an avoided stare
easily knifed time
a madly delirious moon
essentially trudging above shadow
eternity loves a blue car
rust does not
I felt dreamily at sea
producing elaborate symphonies
together through you




A note about the Magnetic Poetry posts. These are not all by me. They are any that I come across and remember to write down or photograph.

Falsely Blaming Canada

I'm on a misinformation roll here. Apparently U.S. officials are still telling their people that September 11th terrorists came from Canada (article). In actuality, "investigators have determined that not one of the attackers entered the United States from Canada or Mexico." Not one. I feel bad for Americans for not knowing the truth about anything because they're all subject to rampant censorship and propaganda. Can you believe that the U.S. ambassador told our politicians not to criticize America, while they go ahead and say crap like this about us? You know, even though Canada's ambassador got a written apology for the comment, it doesn't mean the American public got to hear about it. So I guess they'll go on believing whatever is fed to them, can't blame them really, it's the people they trust that are lying to them. I also like that the Senator in question talks about security problems that "clearly exist on the border", and then cites examples of when people with plans of bombing were stopped at the border. So the security problems are that bombers are being stopped from entering the country? Or that they exist at all? What are you saying Mr. Senator? This reminds me of one of the shakedowns I got at an airport on my way to New York. I was flying the day after that bipolar guy off his meds in Miami got shot upwards of six times by air marshals. I was having my Febreeze confiscated as some kind of dangerous weapon, so I told security that I had in fact purchased that Febreeze (with receipt still attached to the Duane Reade bag) in New York and had flown it across Canada and the border about 6 times this year before that day. She retorted with, "We have to maintain security, didn't you hear what happened yesterday in Miami?" All I could say was something like, "Yeah, so?", but I wanted to be my cheeky bastard self and say, "You mean the guy who didn't have a bomb? You're going to try and justify your fake security measures by citing an example where if you had absolutely no security, no guards, no dogs, no detectors of any kind, still nothing would have happened because he had no bomb, no weapons, and wasn't a terrorist? And by the way, what the hell does that have to do with Febreeze? You must have a quota to reach for the number of confiscated items at airport security huh?" I find that a lot of people tend to use inaccurate examples to reinforce their arguments, I hate not being able to call people on it, but I didn't want to get taken into the secret room with no camera or witnesses so I had to let it go.

Mistaken Information

Okay, shit like this just pisses me off to no end. I just read this article on CBC about the RCMP catching people who get high and drive. I'm not going to get into mad detail right now about why smoking weed and driving is actually not insanely dangerous. No, it's not. There have been many studies done. It's been found that drivers who are high, drive at a slower and steadier rate, take more precautions and fewer chances, and are less likely to cause an accident than a sober person. At any rate, that's not what pisses me off, of course I expect law enforcement to push some bullshit view about marijuana. What makes me boil with rage is this; in the article, they have some civilians talk about how driving high is normal and not a problem, then the article goes on to say,

"That kind of mistaken information is what prompted a new media campaign aimed at drivers who get high before they get behind the wheel.

Bob Rorison, who is now the local president of MADD, was injured in an accident by a driver who was high on cocaine and booze. The driver only served two months in jail."

COCAINE AND BOOZE! They're trying to tell me, and you, and everyone else, that driving while high on cocaine and drunk is the same as smoking a bowl??? You want to know why some misinformed people try 'serious' drugs after trying marijuana? Because the powers that be actually have people believing they're equivalent, and when they smoke pot, they realize that it's no big deal, and then assume that since, for example, cocaine is apparently the same as marijuana, that it would be alright to try that too. It's total shit! THEY ARE NOT THE SAME! You will get no argument from me that you should get drunk and strung out drivers off the streets, but don't you dare try and say that some asshole at a road check who is all fucked up on cocaine (or heroin, or pcp, or crank, or whatever) and wasted on liquor is the equivalent of a stoned driver. Besides, alcohol on it's own or in combination with anything else will always produce dangerous driving. Do not ever come to me foaming at the mouth, spewing misinformation and then accuse the public of being misinformed. Police, government, lobby/activist groups fucking disgust me sometimes...okay, most times.

Tattoo Self-Photography

I realized the other day that I've never taken any pictures of my tattoos, and I've had one of them since 1998! So I tried to take some pictures of them, but they ended up being remarkably difficult to photograph. I think it's mostly because they're on my forearms, so a) I have to hold the camera at a point where I can't look at the screen or viewfinder, b) using my left hand/one hand means it's very hard to hold the camera steady so things get blurry, and c) there is no lighting that I could use that seemed to work without me creating a shadow over myself. Anyway, here are the two best of my attempts (some of which required elaborate use of a tripod!)

My first tattoo, done at Tattoo Art in Kitchener, Ontario. This one encircles my right forearm.


This one is on the inside of my left forearm. I got it at a random parlour in New York a few of years ago on the spur of the moment. I'm not even sure what neighbourhood I was in, East Village? Greenwich? something like that.

One day I hope to have my entire location tattooed up my left arm. What does this mean? I'm thinking, the spot below the maple leaf should indicate the province of British Columbia (maybe the shield?), and below that I would have something indicating Vancouver (I don't know what yet). The spot above the leaf would be the earth with the North American side shown (I think I'd want it realistic looking), the spot above that will be the solar system (the planets and their paths of travel), then above that up onto my left shoulder I'd like our galaxy inked in. I figure this way, if I'm ever shot into space and I'm floating around and some other life form finds me, they'll be able to figure out where I came from. Or if I'm preserved pretty well in ice or a bog somewhere, if I'm found long into the future, they'd know where I was from too. I guess I also just like the idea of having my celestial address in pictograms emblazoned on me. Although, I almost got a firedancer tattoo this summer, except there were no appointment times available before I left for Gorge. Now I don't even think I want it anymore. I'm going to hold onto the address idea for a much longer while before I commit. Too many impulse tattoos may be sources of regret in the future, and anyone who knows me, knows that I abhor regret and have managed to avoid it thus far. I presume that's a positive result of over-thinking.

Letter to Wookiee #3

Dude, (do I start all letters and convos to you with the word 'dude'?) it looks like they're taking down the billboard in your hood. Which one? The one that we used to not know who they were advertising to until we came at it from the eastside. I dunno, I guess it should come down, but at the same time, I'm gonna miss it. What do you think? Here's the article. Oh, and the commotion that preceded the "No, they just have absolutely no class!" statement from Penny was her giving us seasonal presents. Mine included another puck of licorice soap! Oh yeah! You know you're jealous!

Viva The U.S. Senate

Yes, you heard me, viva them. It was a close vote, but the U.S. Senate has blocked drilling in the Alaskan Wildlife Refuge! I am, as are many of my co-workers, shocked and incredibly pleased that they did. In the article, the Republicans are heavily criticized for this being "one of the biggest bait-and-switch deals...seen on the floor of the United States Senate" by "tucking the drilling approvals into an omnibus defence bill". I'm sure this issue isn't now gone forever, but hopefully the votes will continue to be against drilling in this or any other refuge.

Some News Of The Day

The Supreme Court of Canada has ruled that swingers clubs don't harm society and shouldn't be considered illegal (article). They pointed out that community standards should not be how harm is judged. Right on, that's what I've been saying about the Conservative Party of Canada. Just because something is not popular with the majority (gay marriage for example) that doesn't mean it shouldn't be allowed. Sometimes you have to have to stand up for what's right or what's fair, not what the majority wants, no matter how far removed it may be from your personal philosophies.

I guess this US judge will now be called a liberal tool just for applying the law, but here's some good news! I'm glad to see this ruling about intelligent design. The judge ruled that "that intelligent design cannot be taught in a Grade 9 biology class in Pennsylvania, saying it amounts to teaching a secular version of creationism." Further, he states that the school board policy violates the U.S. Constitution, and should be struck down "to preserve the separation of church and state." I guess George will just have to change the Constitution so that he can get this pseudoscience into schools. I often wonder how things we do today will look in the history books of the future, I worry that we're going to appear very very foolish.

Penn State University may have a complete genome of the woolly mammoth genome in about a year! (article) A 28,000 year old mammoth jaw bone containing DNA was found in Siberia this summer by a team led by Hendrik Poinar, an anthropologist at Hamilton's McMaster University. I can't wait to find out what kind of information they'll gather about this extinct giant! I'm such a geek.

What Is Anti-Climactic?

So, when I went to Red Rocks in September, due to tailgating (partying, not driving) before each show, I never got into the venue early enough to buy one of the limited edition (1100 printed) posters for the venue before they sold out. I never even got to see what one looked like. Since returning from Colorado, I’ve checked on ebay nearly every day to see if anybody was selling one. All I ever found was a 1993 Red Rocks poster for the Samples and their supporting acts including the Tragically Hip and DMB being sold for $150.00 US. Yesterday, I finally found a 2005 DMB Red Rocks poster. It’s being sold by someone in Potomac, Maryland for $325.00 US. $325.00! Anyway, I finally got to see it, and it sucks! The best thing I can say about it, is that it’s only for the first 3 nights, as the fourth night was announced too late for me to change my flight, therefore I did not attend. So, it turns out, I don’t even want it. Now that, is anti-climactic.

What Is Not Anti-Climactic?

On another, but related, note, I received my Complete Weekend On The Rocks package from Virginia last night. It's the 8 CD, 1 DVD, 1 T-Shirt, 1 Calendar Red Rocks pre-order extravaganza I bought a very long time ago. It's fucking brilliant, just beautiful! I only had time to watch most of the DVD, and on the final pan of the crowd at the end of Jimi, I spotted myself! Very exciting stuff. Can't wait to hear the shows again!

SFO Road Trip In 2006?

Jack Kerouac's On the Road manuscript (part of it) will be on display at the Jewett Gallery of the San Francisco Public Library from Jan. 14 to March 19, 2006! (article here) This would be amazing to see, so if anyone's interested in sharing the cost of a road trip down, let me know. I figure it'd be better than bussing or flying, in honour of the work. When I went to see the Darwin Exhibit last week I got to see some of Darwin's original writing for his books. It was incredible to see his actual words, as well as letters written to him by friends and colleagues, in person. Or maybe that's just me. Oh well, if this is a no go, I may just go back to New York before the summer tour kicks off. Which probably will be just me.

Ominous Braemar

I just have to post this picture. I took it at the Vancouver Motorcycle Show at the beginning of the year. That's Wookiee on the bike, and Braemar in the corner. This shot freaks me out because absolutely everything in the frame is in motion, blurred, actioned. Except for Braemar, looking ominous.

Is This A Bad Idea?

I've been thinking about posting things I've written pen to paper in the past. I'm debating whether or not this is a good idea. Should I only post things that come to my mind now and in the future? Or are thoughts of days gone by allowed? Is that considered bad blogging etiquette? I think I need advice. I may not heed any of it.

Random Quote #1

A few years ago I spent a summer driving back and forth to Seattle, sometimes twice in a day. I had met some bohemian artists down there and was spending a lot of time in their circles, going to art walks, studio shows, poetry readings, underground shows. I stayed at their loft in Pioneer Square and while under their influence started to remember that I once had artistic tendencies. I started taking pictures again, we would collect objects off the street and make art out of them, sometimes we would go back to the street with what we made and staple them up to walls, we would have impromptu jam sessions with broken instruments, we wrote and wrote and wrote some more. Ruby Jets was a writer, he had several published books to his name, Joseph Jackson Wartes made a lot of found art (I have two of his works on my wall right now), Adrienne Moloff painted gorgeous colourful pieces that exploded with emotion (my favorites of hers were these paintings she did on giant windows that she hung against the brick wall of the loft), and Eric Anderson, well he was the quiet young one, he was a budding painter and writer. I gave him cigarettes on the first day I knew him, and in return he gave me one of his watercolour paintings. It was not a fair trade, I was no artist in comparison with this crew, I couldn't give him anything like that, I think I ended up providing him with lots of coffee and cigarettes, all I had to offer was spiritless money. Anyway, these guys were amazing, they welcomed me into their little circle and inspired me to remember a side of me that I had forgotten in recent years. I had endless amounts of fun with them all over the Seattle area, but the only thing I ever wrote down that any of them said was something Eric said out of the blue that I always felt was like his version of Confucius. He said, "Sometimes my piss smells like tuna even though I didn't eat tuna."

The painting Eric gave me.

One of Joseph's, it's little blurry, all of those white squiggles are words.

The other one of Joseph's I have, too long to shoot straight on.

The most recent picture I've taken in Seattle. (08.25.05)

Overheard In New York #2

Corner of Rivington & Orchard.

Girl #1: I can't believe she's going out with him. I could never go out with him, he's so conservative!

Girl #2: He's not conservative!

Girl #1: No, I guess he's not conservative. He's classy in a stylish way."

The City, My Quest, & Series One Pictures

Well what can I say, "New York City is the greatest damn city in the whole world" as Dave scats on Jimi at the Central Park Concert. I try not do deal in absolutes, but it just may be the greatest city I've ever been to. Not the most beautiful, not the biggest, interesting in it's own way, not the oldest, but it is pretty fucking great. I do hate leaving New York. I read on Doughty's blog about how when he goes places he loves he ends up obsessively trying to figure out how to move there and has to remind himself to enjoy the place right now, while he's there. I get that same problem, I start noticing "Apartment for Rent" signs and then start thinking about whether I'd like to live in that neighbourhood, where I would work, if I could get a working visa, how to get my finances in order, how much could I sell my bike for?, things like that. I've gone as far as actually viewing a place before. It's hard to remember that I have this real life I have to go back to. That hypnotic, depressing loop of boredom I've written about before. It's like I put myself in storage when I'm back at home because I don't want it to get damaged and eroded by the bullshit of everyday. But I digress, this is supposed to be about my latest journey to NYC. I've been to the city for all the seasons now I think, winter specific I've never done the xmas season, just the New Year's season, so it was quite the experience. I went to see the Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall since I'd never been inside the building, it was indeed, well, spectacular. I did some skating on the rink at Rockefeller while it was snowing(!). And for good measure, I bought one Christmas present while in the city. Other than that, I enjoyed the gorgeously sunny days by mostly just wandering around the city taking pictures of street art, fire escapes, restaurants I ate at, and listening to the conversations of those around me. Oh, I did go to the Top of the Rock to take some 360 degree night shots of the city because I've never been up there before (it just recently opened after a 20 year hiatus). So now I've been to the top of Rockefeller, Empire, and the old World Trade tower. There are tons of highlights I could go over, because really, every second in New York is a highlight. I adore riding the subways, wandering the neighbourhoods, just hearing and seeing everything. I saw my first New York rats! Three of them on two different subway tracks, they're so damn cute! I shattered the record for number of time I was asked for directions this time too, it's a total boost to my ego when that happens, at least three times it was locals who asked me, I must be dressing and acting more like I belong! Guess I've spent enough time there to subconsciously blend in, and only twice I didn't have answers for the queries; Where Wollman's rink in Central Park was (as I was cutting across it to buy Black and White cookies), and if I knew where the Essex restaurant was (which I remembered reading about in my guidebook, but didn't want to pull out of my bag to find out for him!). The funniest thing is, when anyone (which is rare) ever asks me for directions while I'm in Vancouver, I never know the answer! I can only usually only help people in New York, Seattle, and San Francisco. I'm such a useless Canadian sometimes...although, I guess I can give directions in Toronto too, so I'm a bad British Columbian. Anyway, I was in New York to see concerts; Soulive, DMB, Doughty, and DMB again. Fucking amazing. I'd never been to Madison Square Garden before, and of course, my first time there, my seat is right under the banner for the Rangers' 1994 Stanley Cup win over the Canucks. Grr, such bullshit! The dudes I was sitting next to laughed and said that only a Canadian would notice that hockeyness. I rarely get to sit next to cool people at dmb shows anymore. Since the band expanded into the mainstream market the 'fans' such as they are, really aren't, they're mostly there to scream at inappropriate times, talk on their cell phones, or chat with whomever they came with - not to actually listen to the music. Not that everyone is like that of course, those are just the people I end up sitting near. The drunks are the worst. But these two (Ed & Dave) were actual fans, Ed has even seen shows way back to the Trax days. Soulive rocked as usual, I've seen them many times, once at the Vancouver Jazz Fest. Doughty's band, oh yeah! My third Doughty show of the year, awesome, they played a few things I didn't hear in Seattle, but that Seattle show was The One. Doughty's duet scat with Dave on Jimi was brilliant though. Night 2 was so fucking fun! I had a seat behind the stage, which just may be the closest seat to the stage I've ever gotten. Rashawn Ross played both nights, and not only did Doughty join up for the second night, but so did Robert Randolf! Brian was right, MSG shows are a guaranteed high. I just think that the band goes all out whenever they play that city at all. On top of all this musical mastery, before the night 2 show I hung around out front the band's hotel with some other fans and were treated to being able to see Stefan, Carter, and Dave being whisked into waiting vans. Let me explain why this is any different for me from seeing them in Hartford years ago. Back in 1998 when I was fully converted to a DMB maniac, I came across a postcard with the following quote on it; "Qui n'aime pas le vin, les filles et le chant reste un fou sa vie durant." by Martin Luther. (Translation: "Who loves not wine, women, and song will stay a fool his whole life long.") Right away I thought, this would be perfect for Dave Matthews, so I bought it in hopes of giving it to him one day. I carried this postcard with me in my moleskin journal everywhere I went from that day on. I never wanted to be without it, because I knew that if I didn't have it on my one day, that would be the day I would run into him in some unsuspecting place like a local bus stop or something crazy. Since that day I've travelled all over North America and seen 30 Dave shows, I talked to Butch once in Hartford, saw Dave, Carter, and LeRoi in the same city, but from a security guard safe distance and other than that, nothing. On the threshold of my 30th show, when Dave came out of the hotel in New York, I finally had my chance. He went over to the people on the other side of the entrance, I kept thinking, no no no, this has to be my chance, so I called out "Hey Dave! Can I just give you something please?" I had no interest in a picture, an autograph, some chicky declaration of love, no, I just wanted to give him the postcard. He came ambling over after I shouted out, and I gave it to him. My hand to his, and then he was ushered away by his handlers. I couldn't believe it, I just threw up both hands in glee. He took it! My seven year quest had come to an end, it was a strange feeling. I knew that patience would win out, this was only the second time I had ever waited outside a building to see if the band would come out. I almost had to leave before they came out too, because there was no way I was going to miss Doughty. That Doughty opening is what clinched the deal, I wavered on spending all that money to fly to the East Coast, until I saw who the opening acts were. So that was my major highlight, and that's only because of the damn postcard. I hope he liked it. The rest of the trip was beautiful, after all these times in the city, I finally got a chance to just wander about without rushing to fit in specific things. I just walked on random streets that were off the beaten track, I tried to only go places I had never been before. I'm not going to go into any more detail in this post, but there will likely be little tidbits from time to time (like the Overheard in New York post from the other day) and of course, pictures. Series One, here we go...

The back patio of the hostel decked out for the season.

The roof deck of 30 Rockefeller Plaza.

One of the views from that roof deck.

Skating at Rockefeller Center.

Looking down inside the Radio City Music Hall.

A covert subway shot taken from waist level so that the police wouldn't accost me.

The flags and lights at Rockefeller Center.

One of two Lepos' I found.



I have to go now, more to come!

Bright Lights, Empty Streets

A couple of years ago I spent a week in Vegas for the New Year. The city was packed with revellers in anticipation for the upcoming celebration. Then one night it started snowing. One of these days I need to scan some pictures from that night. I went outside and looked up in awe at the giant flakes appearing from the clouds. I soon noticed that there were only a handful of people around and they were quickly scurrying into random doors. A few minutes longer, and the strip was deserted. Completely empty, nary a car even passed me by. It was incredible. I ran and slid up and down sidewalks, dancing alone on the snowy strip. I made my way to the Bellagio's outdoor moving sidewalks that were slippery with snow and started skating them like a long track Olympian. I stopped inside the casino to see all the people I assumed were packed inside, but even within everything was subdued. Tones were hushed, I felt like I was intruding. So I went back outside and skated along some more before catching a bus back towards my hostel. I've never seen Vegas so empty and quiet, and it's never been more beautiful. A couple of nights later I was crammed onto the streets with thousands to watch the strip fireworks erupt at midnight. I slid through the crowd to find a single serving viewpoint of the strange contrast in population. The drunken mass was positively electrified, their excitement for the event that was about to occur was tangible to all six senses. I counted backwards with the crowd to the moment they were all waiting for. It was certainly fun, but the night I'll always remember, is the one that nobody cared about but me.

Sometimes It's Okay To Be Ignored

I spent 6 years playing clarinet in the Summer Pops Youth Orchestra (SPYO) before I fled East to attend University. Having played piano for as long as I can remember and being completely under the control of music, spending my summers in the orchestra was fucking brilliant. Every year newbie hopefuls would audition for the conductor and returning members re-auditioned for their position. By summer the selected would gather at a rehearsal hall and form a 100+ piece orchestra (in recent years the numbers have decreased dramatically). We weren't a strictly traditional orchestra (hence being called a pops orchestra) and we welcomed any kind of instrument. We would spend two intense weeks getting cohesive and learning pieces, we practiced together, in sectionals, and then as a group again every day. At lunch we would all troupe to the closest park and play 100 person soccer games with up to 5 soccer balls on a standard field. After these two weeks, we would play a couple of local concerts and then a selection of players are invited to go on tour. The only year I didn't get invited was my first, but I never missed one after that. Two busloads of kids would set out from Vancouver and travel around BC and Alberta playing 1-2 concerts a day. We all had assigned duties like Sound Crew, Set Up Crew, Luggage Crew etc., and the most prestigious, the Truck Crew of which I was a member. These summers were amazing, I honed my skills on my own instrument and learned how to play countless others. It was tradition for people to trade off instruments and teach each other how to play them. I often ended up playing bass clarinet, the full range of saxophones from soprano to baritone, trumpet, timpanis, etc., fucking fantastic. What's the point of all of this? Guess I just wanted to give a little background before getting to the point. I was of course, actually a clarinet player in the orchestra, and there were only ever a handful of us compared to the overwhelming numbers of say violins or trumpets. Our little row sat right in the middle of everything. We always felt ignored, we never got specific attention, help, compliments, or training. Nothing. It was like being a Westerner in Canada. At first we resented it, we felt like we were just as important as every other member of the orchestra. Soon I realized the benefits of flying under the radar. Besides the fact that we were rarely criticized for our playing (maybe because we were just that good!) the wisdom I passed on to each new member was the following: Every day of rehearsals, every concert, every day on tour, the conductor would select a group by instrument for clean up duty. Basically the chosen ones would sweep through any area we had been in and pick up garbage, you know, the whole leave-it-cleaner-than-when-we-got-there thing. In my six years with the orchestra the clarinet section never got picked, ever. Suckers.

The Legend of the Spagein Wagon: Part One

Recently, my beloved van succumbed to old age and was overtaken in a zealous attack mounted by the moistness of my West Coast environment. The van in question is a 1981 GMC VanDura who's odometer has clicked over to a neat line of zeros 4 times. This van has been in my life since the year of its birth (save the three years I lived in Ontario), which is coincidently the same year by younger brother was born. It's a glorious van of differing shades of blue and silver featuring wall to wall, up the walls, and across the ceiling blue carpeting. It houses four captain's seats in the front half of the space with two skylights for added illumination and atmospheric viewing. Behind these seats, where the roof is slightly higher than in the front allowing just enough room for me to stand up straight, there are two cupboards, a sink with a pump faucet, a fridge/ice box, and la pièce de résistance; a long three-person seat against the back wall of the van that unfolds into a double bed. I've had a long history with this van, from traveling back and forth across North America with my family as a child, to my inheritance of it at age 16, to the van-worthy adventures of my 20s. This behemoth, gas guzzler extreme on its third engine, has had many names over the years, but the last one, and the one I think it will be remembered by, is The Spagein Wagon. In honour of it's life, and it's impact/contribution to my life (it's practically another member of the family), and because of Wookiee's suggestion, I will be recounting a multi-volumed history of the van in all it's glory.



Earlier pictures will need to be scanned from the pre-digital era. This first picture is of the van parked in it's designated spot in my driveway as it appears today. Curtains drawn, doors unlocked, I said my final farewell.

Art, Truth & Politics

I just finished reading Harold Pinter's Nobel Prize in Literature acceptance speech from December 7th. I don't really want to intro this with my own muddled words because it's so captivatingly written. I assume this is why I do not have a Nobel Prize. You can read it here or visit the Nobel site and choose to read the speech in Swedish, French, and German or even watch the video. The quote under his profile on the site says "who in his plays uncovers the precipice under everyday prattle and forces entry into oppression's closed rooms". I'll leave you to it.

Overheard In New York #1

While waiting for the Galapagos film that introduces the Darwin Exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History I heard the following exchange between a family of four behind me:

Young Daughter to Mother: Who is Darwin?
Mother: He was this guy who had some kind of theory about evolution.
Younger Son to Father: Is he gay?
Father, matter-of-factly: Yep.

First of all, even here at home, I'm shocked by how many people don't know who Charles Darwin was (or King Tutankhamen for that matter). The mother, by the sounds of it, had no real clue about how to answer her daughter's question. Second, the father's obvious equation of Evolution=Gay=Against God=Wrong was shocking. And this is while at an exhibition specifically trying to educate the public of the opposite! I feel sorry for kids all the time when their education is retarded (in the true sense of the word) by the adults around them. Talk about holding back the next generation, I can only hope those kids learn somewhere to ask their own questions and seek out the answers beyond the scope of their parent's shortsightedness. Of course, while mostly unrelated to the above story, this only leads me to my disdain for the current state of the media and their failure to do exactly that. It really is their job to inform the public about things that they should know about, not just regurgitating press releases and being a puppet for those who have power. I simply don't have the time to unearth all of the truths that people should know, that's a full-time job and then some, which is exactly my point. It's a desperate plea I know, but how much more erosion of society and loss of awareness can we endure?

Catching A Falling Baby (not a metaphor)

Ever seen real footage of someone catching a baby dropped from a third floor window? It's blurry, but can be found here. A mother, trapped by fire and smoke in her apartment in the Bronx, cried out to the people below to save her baby and dropped him out the window. Felix Vasquez caught the baby and he's totally unhurt. Whew, catching a baby is a lot of pressure, I'm thoroughly impressed.

Still On The Go

I have pictures to post soon! I have been in New York for the past week and have been harried since. I had to speed directly from the airport to class to write an Archaeology final exam. Now I'm back at work and spending my nights cramming madly for my English final, which constitutes reading a whole lot of stories and imagining what kind of essay I might be asked to write. I can't wait for this last exam to be over so that I can spend one whole day just relaxing (and maybe even posting) before diving into preparations for my next trip in two weeks time. For now I'll leave you with an interesting article about some US scientists who say they have discovered the secret to the narwhal's tusk. It is one impressive multi-functional tooth!

Act II Scene IV

Do you ever get the feeling that nothing matters? Like you're just going through the motions of a routine and you do it out of habit. Waking up every morning to go to work and drone your day away in an office, then rushing through your nightly commitments before finally finding a moment for yourself, only to realize that you should have gone to bed already or you'll be tired the next morning when the loop of your life resets at the alarm buzzer. Sometimes I feel like I'm in a play, I smile and say good morning to my co-workers, make the obligatory sounds and faces when they're relaying information to me, be sure to be entertaining while maintaining an employee-of-the-month gusto for the work, react as is expected. And then I leave work and play other roles, suited to each individual I encounter. When I'm waiting in line at the cashier I watch how the person is working, what they're wearing, what they're saying, how they're saying it, their expressions, the sense I get from them, so that when it's my turn to interact with them I can make the transaction go smoothly, fall into their groove, then waft away. I connect briefly with the person, and as soon as I turn away I fall back into blankness, nothing is there. Make a phone call, play a part, hang up the phone, move on to the next task. What is the next emotion I am supposed to feel? What is the next thing I'm supposed to say? Who's joke do I have to laugh at? What lie to I have to tell? Everything I encounter gives me an answer. What is the result? I look at things for a long time, I stand innocently looking at food processors while listening to two middle aged women agonize over whether one of their husbands would approve if they bought a toaster instead of a toaster oven, I pause to take note of insignificant things. Like an observer who is so far removed that I'm examining people and things like they're false, like a reality that isn't mine. Want to know something funny? My boss was telling me about how smoothly I've integrated at my new job, she said that when she checked my references they all had great things to say but that the most consistent thing she heard was about how great I am with people. I thanked her of course, because that's what the situation called for, but all I could think was how easy it was to play the different roles required to make everyone feel like you're on their side. The irony my boss doesn't know, is that I actually hate people. Pretty much all people. Hate them. A few I loathe, but otherwise just run of the mill hate will do. It's a sad state of affairs when you find out that one of your most valuable qualities is nothing but a bit character in a script you read daily. Nobody sees anything real anymore, they only see what they want they see. I work on the top floor of my building and our offices have 15 foot high windows framing city views. Today, I was the only one who noticed it was snowing.

All Hail NyQuil

On Sunday I was feeling the beginnings of a cold, and by Monday it was starting to pummel me with its first waves of destruction. In retaliation I took a dose of NyQuil Monday night after class and when my alarm went of for work Tuesday morning I e-mailed work to say I was staying home and then took another dose of NyQuil. I woke again at around 1 p.m. and took another dose of NyQuil before waking up again at about 6:30 p.m. I spent a few hours eating and drinking to replenish my stores before taking yet another dose of NyQuil to enjoy my fourth consecutive regenerative coma. When I woke up on Wednesday I was remarkably better, and after two more doses of the Quil I was good for work the next day (today). That's all it took, two straight days of NyQuil diet and my body has gained the upper hand on the viral grossness that has infected me. How I got through illness before NyQuil I do not know. I am continually amazed by NyQuil's awesome power, and you get it all without the hassle of altars or sacrifices!

Spageism #2

For a long time, Wookiee hadn't seen this blog, and until he did, I didn't want to 'ruin' any of the posts for him, so for some time I couldn't mention things that I had posted here. Of course, because of this, he would constantly (and unknowingly) mention things that I had a related post for but couldn't tell him about. In one of these instances, I made a comment about it, but of course, me being The Queen of Non Sequiturs, I left out my whole train of thought and just said, "Dude, you always say things that make me think of stuff."

And Then There Were Four

One of five remaining Canadian veterans from the Great War died this weekend (article). Clare Laking led an active life almost right up to his death at the age of 106. He is also thought to have been the last living veteran in Canada who saw action on the front line where he served as a private with the Canadian Field Artillery, 27th Battery, 4th Brigade. Laking joined the army against his pacifist father's wishes and was awarded the French Legion of Honour and the Golden Jubilee Medal for his service. After the war he said that he began to agree with his father's views regarding war and came to believe that the world should settle its differences without war. It seems to me that veterans of war speak often of avoiding war and its horrors. Conversely, those who have not gone to war seem to be caught up in some imagined glamour of it and continue to encourage the practice. I don't know if humans have it in them to resolve their conflicts without resorting to violence. I'd like to think that we are a high enough order of apes to control our reactionary bullshit, but I think a secondary problem is that the business of war fits too well with capitalist ideals to die anytime soon. Why do I feel sad when a man I never knew dies on the other side of the country? He reminds me of all the people who never got to live out their days at home in peace, and I can't help but think about the handful of people responsible for sending millions to their deaths. I am of course forever grateful to those who sacrificed their lives for a future generation that includes me, but I still hate that the sacrifice was made. We are all responsible for these deaths in some way, the human connection we all share with each other should be enough to make us feel something about these tremendous losses. We learn nothing from each successive war other than how to make them more destructive to the enemy. It's unfortunate that we worry more about improving war machines than we do about fostering a world in which those machines are not needed. I suppose this won't happen until things go too far, and everyone finally realizes that we're all in it together on this tiny planet.

Perceptions Of Failure

Recently Wookiee was telling me about one of his friend's possible new career path. Basically it seems like, we'll call him Kevin, might be able to abandon his sales position for a job that you could call his dream job. Wookiee finished the tale by saying that he and their other friend were relieved to hear about this because they were afraid that Kevin would just end up a failure. This comment irked me somehow, though I didn't know why. My instinctual response was to throw Wookiee a quizzical look, which necessitated a follow-up question to clarify what the hell me meant. He explained that they care about him, and that's why they want to see him succeed, he went on to say that he had the same fears about me. There are a number of things that come time mind following an exchange like that. I thought about how I wouldn't expect my friends to think of me as a failure just because I didn't have the same university degrees and higher order jobs as them. While I see their perception that they are committing an act of nobility because it's in the name of caring for their friend, I think of it more as flat out snobbery. They probably don't want someone who isn't a elite member of society to be associated with them, it saves them having to make excuses and explanations. Of course, I don't know what Kevin feels about his job or future job or his own definitions of success. I certainly don't think of myself as a failure, I'm incredibly proud of almost everything I've ever done, and I'm comfortable with who I am. Maybe I don't define failure in the same way, in fact, my discovery that traditional measures of success are somehow not as important to me, is one of my greatest successes. I feel as though I've accomplished an incredible amount of things. Sure, I don't have my own home, a job I can say I'm emotionally invested in, any stable relationships with any humans, or financial freedom, but these pale in comparison to my internal accomplishments. I've lived a very different life from those of the people I know locally, of course all of their experiences are unique, but they follow a more traditional path. Wookiee in particular must find it easy to find fault in others, and I blame that on his happy home life with decent parents, and a life full of positive outlooks and opportunities. I guess I shouldn't be surprised to hear about the failure assessment from Wookiee, I mean, this is coming from the same guy who told me that his girlfriends are often uneasy with the idea of me, a girl, being one of his best friends until he shows them a picture of me, after which they have no problem with me. Thanks for that blatant in your face insult masked in good humour man. When I told another friend of mine that Wookiee said this, he was horrified. I just shrugged my shoulders, I mean, what can I do about it? I long ago had to reevaluate what kind of friends I have in Vancouver right now. I had to understand that they weren't the same kind of friends that I had when I lived in Ontario, I would have put my life in their hands, I trusted them absolutely, and we were incredibly committed, loyal, and supportive to each other. I would never say the same things about my friends out here. And there's nothing wrong with that, because they're still valuable to me, just in different ways. I haven't found anyone that I can be myself with here. I just modify my behaviour to conform to what those surrounding me are looking for. Wookiee will never know the real me, because the real me wouldn't be a friend of his, she only comes out when she meets the 'right' kind of person. The difference between personas would be like, instead of laughing when Wookiee told me about his girlfriends being relieved at the sight of me, I'd have probably told him to go to hell in colourful language. I originally wanted this blog to be kept a secret from my friends for this very reason, I wanted to be able to express things that they would not approve of or understand. I presume that if I post this I'll have queries coming from a couple of people, which means, I guess, that I'll have to start a parallel second blog so as not to hurt anyone's feelings and to just be free. I don't know, this could just be my exhausted brain overreacting due to stress and lack of sleep coupled with a lack of detailed clarification of what the fuck Wookiee is implying/thinking. I don't think getting an explanation will be hard to come by, I have a feeling that when Wook next reads this, I'll get the director's cut (teacher's cut?) extended version.

Letter to Wookiee #2

Dude, remember one of the restaurants in the Napa Valley I've told you about before, the one with the big fireplace and the yummy food and all that jazz? I was just reading about Aguilera's wedding in Napa including the "lavish Friday-night rehearsal dinner at the Auberge du Soleil resort". As soon as I read the name of the place I knew I had been there...so I checked the website and it totally is the place with the fireplace! So that's my Xtina connection apparently, and it took her wedding for me to remember the name of the damn place. Oh yeah, I'm also sorry to hear that your beloved Alias has been cancelled. I wonder if you've heard that yet...or when you will since you still don't have internet access at home. You're dragging down the national average man! To help soften the blow of the news, I'll add a few picture of Jen for you. Enjoy!