100 WORDS:

unhealthy living leading to snap decisions - living life in limbo waiting for something to happen - cool afternoon chill of autumn sunlight bringing clarity - need to see with my mind and think with my eyes - hate the process of realizing what I want or need - envious of those who just seem to know - seem to is the key phrase – they’re probably just better at hiding or repressing their doubts – been irresponsibly irresponsible lately – must aim to be more responsibly irresponsible – my recent past seems distant – my distant past seems near – result of frequent reflection

Last friday. Went to UBC queer beer garden with the girls and Lynn. Lemmon = Cowboy. Michelle = sailor in casual wear. Lynn = cat (reoow!) Me = Devil. Squared off in a dual against "The Blue Fairy", an epic battle between good and evil. Michelle got hammered and it was most amusing. see photos here.

Oh yeah. Almost forgot.

Message to Lemmon. Can get cheap tickets to game Oct 31. Colorado. Gonna see about getting the night off tonight. If I can, you in?

Later.

Tonight - Dinner at "Joe Forte's Restaraunt" with crew from work. Anything on the menu, on the house. mmmmm. I do believe I will be having steak and either lobster or crab as well as an extremely decadent dessert.

Went to "The Urban Petshop" on Monday with Michelle and Lynn. I can totally see how people can just whip out the credit card and drop 800 bucks on a new puppy. Wow were those dogs ever cute. Little Yorkie and Porgy puppies, 6 to 8 weeks old. Michelle held a Porgy puppy for awhile and then Lynn passed me one of the baby Yorkies. They both fell asleep in our arms within minutes. After my guy woke up I put him down on the floor and it wasn't long before he was racing around, a full-on terror on four tiny little legs. He kept going into a narrow passage between a kennel and the wall and when he would realise there was no exit he'd bark, shake his head in frustration, and then throw it into reverse (beep, beep, beep) and motor on out backwards. I've never seen a dog move backwards so quickly before. Very very cute.

On a much darker note... must admit to being curious about the status of the hunt for the D.C. sniper. I've been only keeping up on the story by newspaper - no CNN or Newsworld at Chez Kenny/Lemon - but I think I will watch the six o'clock news tonight. The state of the world at present frightens me like never before...

okay, apparently they've caught them. News is on now. Discussions about "homeland security," the "vulnerability of U.S. society,"... I'm thinking maybe the insane level of access the public has to automatic weapons has something to do with it. Call me crazy, but but what possible use can one have for owning an "the civilian version" of an M16 other than killing human beings? That's what they're built for.

100 WORDS:

i’m amazed by thrill seekers
the cliff divers and tight-rope walkers

in their daily dances with death
are they the seducer or the seduced
the taunter or the taunted?

i’m sure i’ll never know

i like rollercoasters
the illusion of danger neatly packaged

i desire the thrill of spontaneity without the possibility of failure

i’m thirty
at a crossroads
a little unsure

close to giving myself freely to the world

tight rope walking without a net

but i’m holding back some
some final deep breathes before taking the first step

i know when i go there’ll be no turning back

So "The Strokes" were in town last night and I had the privilege of attending the show, an evening of pure exhilaration. I have not been so swept away by a live performance for quite some time and with all the hype that seems to follow this band a part of me was prepared to be let down. Not a chance. They blazed through all the tunes on their debut disc plus five new songs and the energy level never waned. The dual guitars and bass laying down hyper-hypnotic rhythms... Julian Casablancas' laid back cocksure New York growl... and that beat, that persistent beat, tight and relentless... a groove you can't quite fall into that keeps you suspended in a constant state of anticipation and then every so often (the chorus to "The Modern Age" comes to mind)... RELEASE. This is what rock and roll should be... fun, exhilarating, and energizing. Believe the hype. Long live "The Strokes!"

Also, keeping up the rock and roll theme... apparently Radiohead will soon be releasing a B-sides disc which is great news of course and I heard from a friend that they are planning to make their next studio album a straight-ahead rock album, getting back to basics I guess. Whatever. Until they show me otherwise, I will continue to expect nothing but great things from them.

oh yeah, i also had caesar salad, but that makes more than a hundred words so...

also, i watched the movie, "The Majestic," with Jim Carrey. don't. it sucks. and it has one of those cheap plots that keep you thinking how is this going to turn out? and you suspect that the payoff won't be worthwhile but you just have to know so you sit through two hours of cheesy trite hallmark-like crap and then oh shit i just wasted two hours of my life. you have been warned.

100 WORDS:

Items ingested today since 6 pm:

4 slices of turkey, three white, one dark
mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy
peas, corn, carrots
yummy cauliflower with a yellow curry sauce
3 Coors Light
2 glasses white wine
1 cup of coffee, 1 generic cola (both decaffeinated)
3 glasses of water
1 piece of homemade New York style Cheesecake with strawberry sauce

mmmmm… I love Thanksgiving dinner

tomorrow:

golf with Dad at Sun Rivers
possibly a movie with Minit
dinner (leftovers anyone?)
hockey game with Minit
the red eye bus back to Vancouver

by the way, Minit is my sister Melissa’s nickname

bye

Alas, Steph was not able to make it to Kamloops after all. She decided to stay with her sweetheart, the love of her life, as it should be on Thanksgiving. At this very moment I am in fact blogging on my parent's computer in Kamloops. Turkey dinner is now over, it is late, and I am digesting the evening's food and drink. A good time was had by all... little Jocelyne, my toddler cousin, played shy for about five minutes, and then quickly came out of her shell. She's a riot. My cousin suggested Jocelyne should go home with her and her parents and Jocelyne was fully willing to go. Her Daddy asked sweetly, "Joss, aren't you going to come home with mommy and daddy?" and she took less than a second to robustly reply, "Nope." We all laughed. Finally Greg, my uncle, had to flat out tell her, "You're coming home with mommy and daddy." She reluctantly gave in, possibly resigned to the fact that there would be many other opportunities for car rides and adventures to new and exciting places.

From the stories I've heard about me, I was not such an independent little kid. Apparently, when my parents used to go bowling when I was a toddler, my grandparents would babysit, and every time my parents went to leave, I would cry. To ease my anxieties my grandma and grandpa would walk me to the sliding glass doors to the patio at the front of the house and we would watch the road until my parents' car went by and my parents would honk the horn and wave and I would wave and then everything would be allright. After awhile it became more of a ritual, probably. I think I liked the comfort of routine as a child.

Another thing I remember... like many kids, I'm sure, I would always fall asleep during evening car rides home . (I still do fall asleep easily when riding in cars, buses, etc) But when we got home, as soon as the car stopped moving, I remember I would always wake up, but that I would pretend that I was still sleeping so that my dad would carry me inside the house and put me into bed. I wonder if he knew then that I wasn't sleeping. Actually, thinking back on it, I don't think he did, because I remember mom and him would talk about me as if I couldn't hear. The memory's hazy and distorted and I'm sure its an amalgam of many nights, many car rides, but I can still hear the car door close, a dull thump, the sound of my dad's shoes crunching in the loose gravel of the driveway and peeking through squinted eyes to see the stillness of our neighbourhood at night, quiet and cool. I like this memory. A feeling of safety.

I don't ever remember feeling unsafe as a child. I have my father to thank for that, I think.

100 WORDS:

Note to self: get a bloody map of Stanley Park!!! Each time I go running I run along the seawall to the bridge and then get myself temporarily lost walking back to Denman through Stanley Park. I always go searching for a new route and then wammo! I’m right where I always end up and I follow the regular route home.

Thanksgiving this weekend… dinner in Kamloops with the fam… Steph might come up for the festivities!!! Very excited. I’ve never experienced a bus ride with a companion. I envision us starting a massive sing-along, inspiring the happiest busride ever!

Yesterday:

Breakfast with the girls and friends at Joe's Grill.
Red Dragon with said girls and friends at Metrotown.
Carried cinnamon buns while girls shopped for pants at Old Navy.
Bused out to Richmond to meet Manami, Eiligh, and Mary for dinner at Milestones. Enjoyed Mongolian pork chops (I somehow doubt that they prepare their pork chops that way in Mongolia). Manami leaves for the UK in two days. Looking forward to hearing stories via email about the UK chumps.
It was good to see them all again.
Bused home.
Listened to phone messages. Nothing tragic or too stressful.
Played crokinole with the girls. Enjoyed by all.
Steph and I re-visited our music composition (listened to it twice). Laughed. Danced. HIgh-fived. We are such silly little kiddies.
Then bedtime.

Day off today...

Things to do include:

Call laywer (done).
Call Angela (done).
Await return calls from both.
Watch The Royal Tennenbaums for the fourth time.
Mail Angela's cds to her.
Email Mary to instigate the weekly "Mary's classic movie recommendation" correspondence I'm looking forward to.
Read.
Write.
Blog.

Its gonna be a mostly inside day today. Outside looks gloomy. Michelle is home sick so I'm gonna look to be helpful around here today.

100 WORDS:

that first birthday
the year we got together
do you remember the cake you made me
how the dye ran bleeding blue-green and it collapsed on one side a grotesque vanilla

nightmare

we laughed until it hurt
how that cake tasted so good
there would be other cakes
but none so sweet

I never imagined you’d some day shed so many tears at my expense
and that your eyes would glow such a lovely

blue-green

fierce and luminescent
electric with painful desire

the colour of sun-ripened copper rooftops
and tidewaters against the scorched white sand of beaches we’ll never share

100 WORDS:

2 AM. Even the cats are asleep. Beginning to think I’m a voluntary insomniac. I feel tired. I don’t sleep. Maybe I’m addicted to that doped up feeling only sleep deprivation can provide. My head feels like a helium balloon past its prime. Light enough to resist the full force of gravity, but heavy enough to sink gently to the floor. Think I can see the large hand on the clock moving, but it could just be my unsteady eyes. Could giggle right now, but I don’t have the energy. I’ll smirk instead. Feels good to smirk sometimes. Devilish. Superior.

Work was challenging today. A guest got under my skin enough to provoke a reaction from me, something that rarely happens. I was still on edge an hour later. I pride myself on being extremely patient at work, but today I lost my composure and I feel kind of silly about it. I shouldn’t, though. I need to get past the discomfort I feel when faced with even the most insignificant confrontation. Life is too short to allow such things to bother me.

It appeared that a few minutes ago I was going to get a bit of a show from the cats. Bowen was jerkily pouncing from side to side and then making feinting lunges at Finnegan from a safe distance (about ten feet). This was about five minutes ago and Finnegan is still safely perched upon the top of his castle feigning disinterest in Bowen’s actions while keeping a constant eye on his younger, more rambunctious compadre. It’s the classic two pet scenario isn’t it? The young punk always trying to stir up shit, the older sibling often giving into temptation until the whole thing gets to be too much and then swat!!! Leave me alone! And balance is restored once more in the kingdom (or living room. Whatever.)

Tried Skor Bites from Hershey tonight. I’d previously tried other chocolaty treats from the “Hershey Bites” product line, and have always been disappointed. Reese Bites don’t compare to the “Pieces” or “Cups.” York Bites? Please!! Dry minty badness. Caramel Bites are okay, but I prefer a Caramilk or Dove bar if I’m looking for a caramel fix. So tonight, when I purchased the Skor Bites, I was expecting to be disappointed. Not so. With this one, they got it right. Excellent chocolate to Toffee ratio – crunchy enough to satisfy, yet chocolaty enough to provide that lovely velvet-like melt in the mouth sensation. Mmmmmmm. Nummy.

Had tacos tonight with the girls and watched “Kissing Jessica Stein,” which was pretty good. Steph made the tacos, added copious amounts of salt, various sauces, and taco seasoning to the ground beef… tasted the mixture… felt her blood pressure double instantaneously from the rush of sodium to the blood stream… proceeded to rinse a portion of the ground beef to salvage the dish… re-heated… served the tacos… and I must say she made a commendable save… tacos were muchos tasty and brought back memories of elementary school birthday parties.

Best last five seconds of a movie ever – Birdy, directed by Alan Parker, starring Mathew Modine and Nicholas Cage.

Local poet Billeh Nickerson wrote a series of very short poems, one for each day in a leap-year February. They’re really cool and here are a few:

2

At the Greasy Spoon

The waitress tells me
her pitbull was impregnated
by a husky.
This makes my grilled-cheese
taste better.
It really does.

8

1500 Q-Tips

My mother keeps sending
care packages—
if I used one Q-Tip everyday
I’d have enough for four years.

9

wind chimes during hurricanes

11

wet asphalt makes me
lick my lips

12

My Boyfriend’s Back

I pluck hair
with my teeth,
swallow the evidence.

13

Gilligan’s Island

I want to stick my fngers
inside Mary-Anne’s
coconut cream pie.

17

silence is a goldfish

18

Nude Bingo

The old dab-your-wiener trick,
how original.

19

the sound of your sigh
when the buttered bread
lands right-side up

23

Racist Eating French Vanilla

Something is wrong,
it’s not white.

27

Jesus couldn’t get a job
at McDonald’s—
his hair is too long.

29

so full of drunk love
I hug myself
harder and harder
until I disappear



From The Asthmatic Glassblower and other poems, 2000, Arsenal Pulp Press

100 WORDS:

Seated with soggy popcorn and bottled water in hand, the ritual begins.
Solitary pleasure in a public space.
When the lights go down I’m all business.
It’s just me and the film.
These days the projector’s clicks and whirs seem antiquated.
Like the sounds of old typewriters and dusty records.
Soon to be a casualty of the digital revolution.

I remember my first.
I was nine years old.
“The Rescuers” with Jason and Dad.
They can still make me feel the way I did then.

Afternoon viewings are ideal.
Escape from the static and phshhhhkk of daily living.
My tonic.

100 WORDS:

Slept twice today.
Twice awaking from a dream.
One a nightmare.
One a floating image of beauty.

The protagonist of my nightmare is me.
The villain is the hero from the film I watched the night before.
“You can run if you want to, but its pointless.”
I run anyway, break into a sprint and then… “Rick” – a whisper as violent as rod iron on bone wakes me.

Later napping.

A slow gentle waking.
Her face floating above me without context.
Just rosy cheeks,
short dark eyelashes
smiling teeth,
and intelligent eyes.
No trace of self-conciousness.

The image fades.
Then…

Discovered a website called "Everything Fades" recently, a collection of memories posted by anyone who wishes to share them. Posted my first memory:

I remember going on vacation with my aunt and uncle and eating at McDonald's and feeling out of place, wrong, flawed, less than them... I'd made some error of etiquette and it was loudly pointed out to me... I knew I just wanted to go home... It was eighteen years ago around my twelfth birthday and I still remember how I felt and I'm glad I do, I guess, because no one is going to make me feel that way ever again.

100 WORDS:

don’t want to give up give in gotta keep at it like a boxer in training the daily dose of raw egg protein take your vitamins kid they’re good for ya writing’s not quite like boxing but metaphorically speaking I’ve been getting fat and lazy lately no excuse what would Rocky do or maybe Hemingway well maybe not Hemingway he drank drank drank and then kaboom not pretty it’s not about excellence practice and that shit right now its therapy gotta bleed out the stifling brain mucous tar clear the pores so to speak open up the path to yes

It’s been awhile since I’ve updated. Was in a bit of a funk. Lately it seems as though there’s always something hanging over my head. When one challenge is overcome, another always arises. We’re getting to the legal mumbo-jumbo now and I fear she’s going to try and make my life as difficult as possible.

This past week has been okay though. I’ve brought myself out of my funk mostly be re-dedicating myself to myself. I can choose to do things that make me happy. I can choose to not let the head-games and the bullshit bring me down. Choose, choose, choose. Choice, choice, choice. Mine. Me.

I feel a little like my own Dr. Phil right now. Hmmm. Anyway.

Had a conversation with a friend last week and she stated that she wasn’t sure that for most people life long relationships were possible or fortuitous. I’m happy to say that despite all of the events of the past few months I disagree with her. I’m cynical about a great many things, but when it comes to love, I’m still a romantic at heart.


THE JON SPENCER BLUES EXPLOSION CONCERT!!
Saw Jon Spencer and crew last week… not bad, but the sound was disappointing… couldn’t hear his voice clearly all night… not that you really need to hear what he’s saying to appreciate the music (“Sock it to me!!! Blues Explosion!!! Yeahhhh!!!), but…

Gonna see The Strokes later this month… really looking forward to it. Still kicking myself for missing The White Stripes show earlier this year. Heard the new Beck cd in Virgin records and it sounded very impressive… lush and melancholy, sad but beautiful (I’m appreciating the beauty of sadness lately)… my cd collection is now Beckless since the split (rightly so, they weren’t mine) so I’ve been checking out used cd stores for Beck… priced it out and it looks like I can purchase my very own complete Beck collection for about fourty bucks plus tax.

On Saturday I was sitting around, thinking what am I going to do on this wonderful day off and it occurred to me that I’ve never taken in the film festival and I figured I’ve got no excuse, let’s do it. Between then and now I’ve seen six films and I’m loving it. Saturday I saw “Walking On Water” (Australia), “Waiting for Happiness” (Mauritania), and “Who the Hell is Bobby Roos?” (USA). Yesterday I saw “Aiki” (Japan) with Manami and today (another day off), I saw “Swing” (France) and “Something To Remind Me” (Germany). All except the American film have been good. Apparently “Bobby Roos”, an indie film shot in DV format, won an award at the Seattle film festival. Hmmm. The lead actor’s performance is interesting and the premise is promising (an impressionist comic begins to lose touch with his true self and becomes an amalgam of the characters he plays in his act, goes over the edge, attacks a heckler as Robert Deniro, his professional and personal life begins to tailspin out of control…), but, the supporting acting is horrible and the ending is ridiculously obvious, an insult to the audience – the characters voice the film’s thematic conclusions through painful, unrealistic dialogue. I want my eight dollars and fifty cents back.

Thankfully the Mauritanian film, “Waiting for Happiness” expresses its themes through its beautiful images. I knew nothing of Mauritania before seeing this film and I loved being immersed into a completely foreign world… new landscapes, coastlines, language, customs… this world is also quite foreign to the film’s lead character, a native Mauritanian who has lived most of his life in Europe, does not know his own native tongue and is thus a lonely outsider, forced into being an observer rather than a participant. The lure of the outside world (Europe) is ever-present for the characters in the film and yet, for most, Europe only offers a different kind of isolation. In one scene, two Mauritanian men get their picture taken by a photographer, an experience that seems to be completely new to them… they stand in front of a fake background of a European urban landscape at night, looking nervous and uncomfortable, not sure where to look,… the final result is a “snapshot” that wonderfully illustrates their distance and isolation from the world they are trying to embrace. Loved the traditional music in this film… a woman playing a string instrument and a young girl apprenticing under her sing mournful wailing songs that reminded me of old, old American blues music…

Speaking of music, “Swing” was amazing. A young boy on vacation takes guitar lessons from a “Manouche” (gypsy) guitar player, falls in love with a Manouche girl… beautiful, long, celebratory music scenes… so many scenes of joy and laughter and the surprise of discovering love and friendship… scenes of the joy of learning, experiencing another’s culture from within … Jews, Arabs and Gypsies all brought together through the joy of making music… a somewhat sad ending that I won’t ruin that makes a comment on the life and history of the Gypsies in Europe, what has been lost, forgotten… I loved this film! I think I’m going to pop some Django Reinhardt into my discman and fall asleep listening to “The King of Guitar” swing, swing, swing…