Category: Commercial plug

Not even with a beer in my hand and a few comments on social media

A series of large losses can make a small loss feel enormous. I told Rob I wouldn’t cry until I had a beer in my hand, and I lied then too.  I’m crying now, but Jeff is meeting the situation with sympathetic noises and the welcome sound of the coffee grinder.  I was going to say more tender things about him, but he’s off in his room now belching so loud something in my room vibrated in sympathy…. still in keeping with the theme, I spose.

There was a brief flurry of amusement last night at Robof9’s going away party while one party member commented to another, “We’re friends, right?” but in reference to facebook.

I now have more than 150 facebook friends.  I have met and spoken to every single one of them.  Some of them are my dearest friends; some I barely know; some are more other people’s friends than mine.  But they are my facebook tribe and I follow their doings, their triumphs and tragedies, the way folks follow soaps. Not so much on the story arc, but man, the set pieces entirely rock.

Livejournal is for filk buddies and church buddies.  When I realized that – that was the point I realized that filk is the religion-friendly portion of SF fandom.  Because all the most religious people I know who are also fans are also filkers.  Things that make you say hmm.  And when I say religion, I mean Judaism, paganism, UUism, and Mormonism.  We all get together in a room and sing our faces off, and we make sure that people’s dietary requirements, both allergy and religious, are met, and we don’t even talk about it because that would all be beside the point anyway, we’re here to sing and love each other.  Livejournal merely supports the meatspace- we are meant to be together, and LJ helps us do that.

Twitter is for people who like the kinds of things I like.  Twitter is mostly people I don’t know, will never meet.  The most recent person to start following me had two midwife attended births, co-slept, baby carried, tandem nursed and looky looky, she’s a vegetarian. All those things in common, and then, clunk.  Uh, no thanks. Personally I fucking hate it when people say they are vegetarian and eat eggs and milk.  You’re still robbing babies and eating them, so how does that bring you to fluffy bunnyhood?  Either be vegan or be sparing in your meat consumption or be like me, the meat on meat inside meat, with meat on the side, kind of person.

I will be a vegetarian when I have to, and not one second sooner.  My brain doesn’t work properly without meat protein and it sure doesn’t work properly without animal fat.  Wish it were otherwise.

Now I have to go outside and plant the saplings work gave me for Earth Day.  I have a funny story about that but I can’t publish because the inertnets are temporarily forever.  I hope Margot joins me.  There’s something very comforting about her watching me work.

Not one word else

Yes, I am dating somebody.  I can hardly deny it when he met everybody in my family yesterday.  That is enough on that subject.

I missed the winter spectacular as a result (Sue gave me tickets), but life presents us with many situations where bi-location would be useful, and I decided to stay home.

The rest of yesterday was a few chores and being amazed by the fury of the rain.

And now, a picture of a bat eating a banana, and a list of the best restaurants in Vancouver, and Nathan Fillion kissing his new co-star.

Holy ^%$! Batman

Debbie forwards this gem from the nation’s capital.  There’s more than enough **** to go around in this story.  Calling something a blowback makes it sound like a rough breeze, not feces at high pressure.

I had an amazing morning with Katie here, doing tech support and getting out of her way so she could work on her song. The tech support was trying to find cabling and making sure the inputs were set to record properly in Garageband.  Later in the day, my date, alas, was overcome by weariness from his exertions feasting a friend the previous night at a birthday bash, and cried off… this after texting me at 8:10 this morning that he was just going to sleep.   People nowadays have no idea how to pace themselves (this of course will cause Patricia to burst out laughing when she sees it, since she knows what an utter lightweight I am when it comes to weekend excesses.)  I sang “The Weekend’s Over” to myself, which cheered me immensely, and then worked my way through “Freedom”, “Wish it was Mine” (how I love that song, and the mad crush that prompted it), and about half a dozen other songs.  Seeing Katie with my guitar in her hands this morning nearly made me hyperventilate with excitement and glee.   I got her to visit this site for strummable guitar chords (which makes songwriting so much easier)  After she left (her dad walked her home), I sat down with the piles of sound equipment I got out for her this morning (the USB midi input cable for the Casio keyboard, the mucho expensivo mic which Katie found since I had no clue where the damned thing was, the second best set of headphones, the Kaossilator and associated cables, the laptop of course) and made gamenoise1, and that’s only a fraction of the extremely cool music I composed today. Getting more callouses on my fingers, seeing both my kids and writing tunes have put me in a very happy mood… and I didn’t cook dinner, I ordered pizza and then made Jeff pay for it.  Tra la la.  Oh, and I watched the boys kill zombies, because of course, Elferd Ito is in the house.  (L4D2, Left for dead 2, bad pun.)

Angry and perturbed turns into meh, and then huh, and then te he.

I spent a good chunk of yesterday angry and perturbed, but as is typical for me, once I figured out what to do about it, I quit being angry and perturbed.  Continue reading Angry and perturbed turns into meh, and then huh, and then te he.

Emotional pointillism

Yesterday’s practical job interview was a disaster, but a low key one.  I’m not displeased with the haircut Katie gave me in the course of the interview, but I’d like to take the woman who supervised her and fire her at high velocity from the deck of the Iron Workers’ Memorial Bridge… in effigy, of course, I do not advocate violence except when in an excited and irrational frame of mind, which advocacy, when it occurs, I am obliged to immediately retract as being contrary to both my core self interest and my belief system, spindrift as it is.  Katie was philosophical about it, which helps.

I googled Glenn Beck to find out what church he goes to, subsequent to learning that he blames atheism for the end of the American dream.  Personally I blame their judicial system, which, skipping hand in hand with television over the last 60 years, has f|cked the Americans to the point where recovery into a society where self-governance and personal responsibility are considered virtues seems very unlikely.  Anyway, Glenn Beck, a Mormon, blames atheism.  It’s a lot like blaming Canada in its charming looniness … and it sure as f8ck is easier than looking in a mirror.  Of course me blaming the judicial system without pointing to the interconnected power structures which have allowed Glenn Beck to make fabulous amounts of money by being emotional, uncommitted to the facts and verbally abusive to people who haven’t ever done anything to him personally, would be very remiss, but the courts could have done more in the last 60 years and they haven’t, so they are the notional cat I kick this morning.

Marc Emery was taken into custody on Monday.  He’s a manic self-publicist with a libertarian messianic complex and a smoking hot wife.  I still don’t think he should have been extradited.  I hope he isn’t injured or murdered in custody; I hope he comes out of it sane, or at least as sane as he is now.  I am very angry at the Canadian government, but as long as we have Harper, it’ll be like this.  I knew Marc when I weighed 132 pounds and wore aviator frames so I guess I am biased.

After the interview disaster in the late afternoon (softened by the Seabus ride somewhat) I took the girls (Cassie, Kashka and Katie) for a drink at drink.  Yes, the department of redundancy department has made adjustments, and there is a new drinking hole for adults who wish to have a conversation and properly constructed drinks.  This new establishment does not use drink mixes.  The music is not turned up full blast; the wait staff are attentive, professional and fun.  I am booking Katie’s 21st bday party now!  609 Columbia for anybody who is interested.

Today is a day of packing and worrying.  I f|cking hate travelling, but if you want to get someplace you have to travel, alas and oy vey iz mir.  Jeff says, mimicking piteous kitten for comic effect, “But what will I eat?”  He’ll be fine of course.  He got the Margot grooming course; she bitched at him exactly the same way she bitches at me, so that will be fine too.

I closed all the windows permanently in preparation for winter.  The air conditioner needs to get put away, except I’m damned if I can figure out where.

I’ve decided not to take my computer on my trip; but that’s only because the notion of backing it up before I leave makes me all exhausted.  I’ll take pot luck on internet access; I don’t imagine it will be much of an issue, as everybody I’ll be visiting has some.

Currently, it is raining.

I made mini-cinnamon crunchies yesterday and gave some to Landpeer Kim with the rent cheques for the next three months.  I had to do something after she gave me all those home grown tomatoes.  Yum!  Also, I invented the recipe while I was making it.  The two people I thank most for my current ability to cook are Catherine and Paul.  Catherine because of her very inspiring adventurousness, Paul because I got kinda competitive with him in the ‘not using a recipe’ department.  Now I feel like I’m a good cook almost without thinking about it.  I can’t remember the last time I cooked something inedible; the worst thing I cooked in the last year were those dreadful muffins; they induced heartburn of world class immensity.

My back is really bothering me, which is another reason why I do not want to fly.  Or rent a car.  Silly me.

I light a candle for those killed and homeless in consequence of the earthquakes and flooding in the Philippines and Indonesia.

People keep sending me links I’ve already posted to my blog, in one case two years earlier.  It is to smirk.

I had a lovely conversation with Patricia the other day and look forward to catching up with her live upon my return.

I am a cool hunter.  One hundred thousand years ago I would have been finding tasty things to eat for my kids and grandkids.  It’s the same, but only different, as an ex-coworker of mine used to remark.

MilkDrop is a superlative visualization plug in.  Highly recommended; trippy as all get out. I occasionally have to look at the ground when the presets go into migraine-inducing territory but that’s my only complaint.

I am emotionally sensitive to certain wavelengths of light.  The more I consider this, the more I think, what?

I can hardly wait for the first snowfall so I can take video of Miss Margot.

She is very rotund.  We will have to start meal feeding the cats, which is harsh.

I have decided never to take her to my parents’.  Given her unaccountable urge to tangle herself up in people’s legs as they are going up the stairs, the prospect that she would either trip and kill one of my folks or get crushed by accident is too much to bear.

last Jericho of the 15th season

The season closer, which I attended with Paul, Paul’s boon companion Mike J, Keith and Mike, was a barnburnin’, kickass, upsidethehead HOWL of an evening.  Three professional musicians on tour (two of them being the Undesirables, a very amazing Canadian duo who TRANSFIXED the audience and the other being David Ross MacDonald, an Aussie who blinked at us when we wouldn’t sing the chorus of his rubato version of Waltzing Matilda because he wasn’t singing) joined the open stage, and the Galley stayed open long enough to serve beer at the break, may it be blessed among restaurants, and apart from it being ass freezing cold it was a splendid evening.  Banjo! Mandola! Social Justice songs! a song by Stompin’ Tom Connors about the Iron Workers’ Memorial Bridge collapse! Ashokan Farewell played during the jam session by four fiddles (one of whom played with polish and precision by a ten year old boy), one bodhran, one pennywhistle, two guitars and two mandolins! No fewer than two Bob Dylan songs (nobody plays Dylan at Jericho, it’s odd)!

When Fraser Union, the ‘headliner’, finally made it to the stage, one of them remarked that the headliners had already come and gone.  But you don’t go to Jericho thinking you’ll never be upstaged; on any given evening the quality of the musicianship is enough to give you severe pause.

Thanks to Mike J for giving me the musical term rubato and explaining it (he’s a second tenor with Chor Leoni and knows his shizz); thanks to Mike for the lift home; thanks to Paul for lining up for beers for us and loaning me the entrance money because as usual I forgot to get cash.

Bright blessings for the gift of being in that room, where sixty voices, in three and four part harmony, lifted the beams and raised the dust.  I didn’t want to perform that night, and I’m glad I didn’t try!

Productive day

Jeff and I emptied out the last storage locker (saving $1200 a year) and did a bit of a shop.  The Commercial Drive Can Car truck rattled and squeaked like what it is, the highest mileage car in the fleet, and when I got to our place the s.o.b. wouldn’t start again; sounds like the starter motor is going.  The third time I fired up I got lucky and while it was running I called the office and gave them my sad tale.  Then I scooted back to drop it off and then Jeff got me and we went to Main St, where both of us realized that we’d forgotten John’s Jukes is closed on Mondays so no rubber bumpers for us.  As a consolation prize I went to Kam’s and got egg tarts and red bean pastries (best I have ever eaten).  Managed to get within eyeshot of Pulp Fiction without buying anything.

So now of course, after finding a home for all our furniture, books, etc we have to squeeze down again.  I’m considering buying shelving to put in the guest room, it being the last place I can think of in the house that has anything resembling room.

Keith came over yesterday and we had another Homicide fest.  I LOVE that show, there has been one lame episode in five seasons so far and even the lamest episode has something to recommend it.  Also, it’s funny seeing Michelle Forbes (who plays the massively loathesome Marianne in True Blood) before she got her teeth redone and playing an intelligent and likeable (albeit buggo) character.  She has one of the best voices in TV.

I also worked away on “Wish it was Mine” which is one of my fave songs of mine, just because it’s so passionate about the ways in which men and women are always misunderstanding each other, and yet is so very short.  Brevity is one of the things I like best in my own work; even if you hate it, it will be over soon.

Katie is coming over or I’m going down to New West at some point today.

Snakes, dogs, Wagner, hail

Wagner was very smart and very musically influential. Even if he believed some nutty things.

Yesterday I walked with Paul in Robert Burnaby Park, a nice long walked that stretched my legs.  We saw a woman who runs a doggie daycare (Canine Corner in North Burnaby) and she had 7 dogs off leash with her (and only the terrier barked, of course, but not at me.  For some reason my ability to interact appropriately with dogs has magically improved over the last year).  We talked to her for a good long while – she also has an elderly orange cat who was a Katrina rescue.  In exchange I told her about Molly. Anyway, if her ability to cope with 7 offleash dogs is any recommendation, I recommend her facility.  She was amazing, and those were very happy dogs.

Then we went into New West and went to the Deli on 6th Ave. next to Galloways which we also shopped at and got food for ourselves and Katie.  Then I found out my bank card was compromised AGAIN and was declined, call bank.

I had cash to pay for the transaction, but I didn’t have any ID, which was naughty of me because as is customary these days, I drove.  I went to the TD Canada Trust on 6th St. expecting to be told to go home and get picture ID, but wanting to know what happened to the card.  Ross said, Tell me about your accounts, which I did, down to the penny in some cases, and then answered a couple more questions, and then bingo – he was getting an override from his supervisor and I had a new card.  Total turnaround 5 minutes.  I was astonished and pleased, and even happier than normal that I bank with TD Canada Trust.

Then Paul and I went to see Katie.  Kashka was the only other roommate home, which meant SNAKES.  Yes, they have a rosy boa (a boy, Speck, finger thin and 18 inches long) and a ball python (a girl, Opal, pushing 5 feet and forearm thick and very large for her age not to mention bloody strong) as well as a mini dobie named Piper, who jumped into my arms as soon as I saw her and a ten week old black kitten named Pan(dora). And dead rats in the freezer.  Opal was traumatized by a live rat once and now she only eats drowned thawed ones.  Anyway, we got them out and handled them, and we took some amusing pictures which I am hoping to coax out of Paul if chance affords so I can repost them (including one of Speck hanging out in my hat).  Speck likes noses, Opal likes to drape herself around necks.  Both have recently shed their skins and have a healthy glossiness that anybody who loves animals would rejoice to see.

Then I went home and tried to write down “Back in the City” and got about two thirds of the way through, I will finish today. It’s done now.

Then, True Blood from last night.

I just leaped up in consequence of hearing hail and got Granny’s chairs off the back deck.  It was 5:52 in the morning when it stopped, and as is normal around here, it was heavy rain mixed with graupel.  There was a bit of lightning too.  Noisy!  It was pinging and spoinging all over the show.