Month: December 2010

Bloody hell, not another song!?

Blow you winter winds
blow where you please
hang your icy bunting
on the barren trees
decorate the windows
with capricious lace
send your clouds scudding
across the moon’s pale face

Dandelions dreaming
underneath their banks of snow
Soon they will be blooming
and soon enough the seeds will blow

Blow you winter winds
gales and chills
howl around the hollows
echo through the hills
Bringing snow and fog
bringing ice and rain
A moment of the sun
then all is dark again.

Dandelions dreaming
underneath their banks of snow
Soon they will be blooming
and soon enough the seeds will blow

Blow you winter winds
blow where you will
Now my heart feels
oh so small and still
Soon we’ll close the door
on your bleak refrain
For we will rejoice
and we will sing again

Dandelions dreaming
underneath their banks of snow
Soon they will be blooming
and soon enough the seeds will blow

Blow you winter winds
mark my skin
Soon I will be warm
with my loves and kin
Two foot and four foot
All will be within
There’s a roaring fire
at the Dandelion Inn

Dandelions dreaming
underneath their banks of snow
Soon they will be blooming
and soon enough the seeds will blow

Let the flame wars begin Me Vs. Dr. Who

It’s a series
not a season
they are British
That’s the reason
For weird stuff that they do
Among which, Dr. Who

In and out of fandoms
like a rent boy and his drawers
Dodged some feuds but man was I
collateral in wars
Dr Who perplexes me and
then he flat out bores
I’m nikulturnyi it’s true
I just don’t know what to do
I do not get, I don’t get Dr. Who

Longest running
Eleven Time Lords
Behind the sofa
scaring child hordes
I know it’s a meme
But it just makes me scream

Production values equalling
Space 1999
Forty years just makes it old
it doesn’t make it fine
Although Tom Baker in his scarf
Upon him I could dine
I’m nikulturnyi it’s true
I just don’t know what to do
I do not get, I don’t get Dr. Who

Actors begging
For a guest spot
This police box
is not a rest spot
Nor a place to bill and coo
With the mighty Dr. Who

The Beeb says it’s a superbrand
And trademarked that blue box
It runs in fifty countries
Every minute on the clock
Well keep your sonic screwdriver
the whole thing is a crock
I’m nikulturnyi it’s true
I just don’t know what to do
I do not get, I don’t get Dr. Who

Merry Christmas

Einstein, 1949:

I have repeatedly said that in my opinion the idea of a personal God is a childlike one. You may call me an agnostic, but I do not share the crusading spirit of the professional atheist whose fervor is mostly due to a painful act of liberation from the fetters of religious indoctrination received in youth. I prefer an attitude of humility corresponding to the weakness of our intellectual understanding of nature and of our own being.

Christmas Eve Service was not well attended, but we sang the old carols lustily, and I admired Erin’s little one, and said hey to Rob, who got two whole days off from driving bus. Peggy read so sincerely that I could feel tears welling up – and they spilled.  For unto us a son is given…. and I’ve had that magic, a little life I built (with help) myself and held in my arms for the first time a very long time ago.  And now he’s all big and opinionated, but not so opinionated that he doesn’t love it when I pick him up a milkshake on the way home from church.

No church this Sunday – off to Victoria.

I should go upstairs and wrassle the bird.  For some reason I don’t feel like cooking stuffing.  Must be something wrong with me.

Full of gratitude

It is so very pleasant to be able to pick up the phone and be able to talk to my mother.  It’s the most bracing luxury.  It is a luxury, a luxury to think that the people and machines that keep the phones running will always be there, will never be distracted by anything else.  And yet bracing, for when my day darkens and my drears get all bleary, I can contemplate easily calling my mother, and even if I don’t call her, it’s still a bracing thought.

Murmle mushy pancreatic implosions of daughterly joy.  Snirf, ack, ptui.

Canada Post website is down

Call the toll free, get pissed on from a great height.  Sorry, can’t answer your call, call later.  Click, Bzz.  Need to talk to Canada Post before I can tell one of my coworkers that she’s an ignorant sociopath with delusions of adequacy; strangely I need to check my facts, even if she doesn’t.

Annoying.

Broke a large piece of glass this morning trying to get the food I cooked  for a company potluck into a bag to carry it.  Cut myself three times cleaning it up and I just realized I cut my leg as well as dropping the lid on my foot.

Happy fucking Monday, y’all.  Only good thing about this morning was the brevity of the commute and the pan fried scallops I had for brekky.

Trying to train Margot to grunt on command is hopeless, and yet entertaining.

I wrapped the present for the needy family this morning.  It’s the first 3 books of the Scott Pilgrim series.  The 14 year old boy did ask for graphic novels after all.

In other news, I went to check out the cajon that’s on craigslist in town and it sucked so I didn’t buy it.

In other news, Katie and Keith are back in Vancouver and I cooked a baron of beef (mit gravy) and mashed spuds and broccoli for dinner last night.  Paul stopped by to eat and run.  I don’t mind, he cooked two meals earlier this week both of which were awesome.

Feels weird to be through The Wire.  I am thinking about that a lot.

Sunday roundup

I was feeling like I missed Leo and Linda so I made Finn pancakes last night.  Paul stopped by on the way to work and devoured some.  I think he’s missing the kids, I am definitely missing them, and Katie posting that she was sad on Facebook diddint help.

We also sang and played a bit last night.  He sure makes my Seagull sound purty; I’m working on a new tune and it was a treat to work it up in guitar first and then hand the guitar to Paul so I could noodle on the mandolin; there was some tasty stuff in there.

Jeff and I watched the last episode of The Wire; for each part of the ecosystem of the drug trade and city infrastructure, folks die or retire and others take their place; that was the point at which I realized that The Wire is really about corruption.   A corrupt system only needs a bit of corruption from everyone and a whole bunch of corruption from the big players to work; now there’s research indicating that maybe that is how it’s supposed to work. Humanity will always have corruption with it, but how does one cope?  Carlyle said make of yourself an honest man and then there’s one less rascal to deal with, more or less.

Eclipse on Tuesday/Wednesday.

Of the many, many things I am grateful for, having a mother who never made me a sweater like this is one.

It snowed last night, but not enough to matter; I checked a webcam rather than going to a window, does that make me a bad person?

So glad I’m not travelling for Christmas.