Settler words&music in S'ólh Téméxw, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming soon, Hair Sinister after that. —Restore All Indigenous Lands!
to anybody noticing their comments were being moderated. I was putzing around with the settings and unchecked something that needed to stay checked.
All should be golden now.
Free lunch today, with beer. That always rounds out the work week and the pay cycle in a lovely way.
The screen is bobbing up and down and the prospect of getting on a boat to go camping is more than I can deal with right now. I’m going back to bed and I’ll phone Jarmo from there.
damn
damn
damn
I’m still processing from my labyrinth walk yesterday. Walking meditations – for those who are able – are very powerful and go a long way down into the human psyche. I found it interesting that I experienced the entire walk as resistance and physical pain, but the next morning, I woke up knowing what I have to do; I am clear again and realize the pain was a reminder that there’s something I have to do, which I won’t enjoy.
To be more specific, I have gotten into a bad habit, and I have to shed it, and the sooner I do the better off the world will be. So the walk was a reminder to drop something rather than acquire it.
I was the first person to walk the labyrinth as part of an open house which Ellesmere United Church hosted – it’s in the SAME BUILDING where I live. What are the odds? When I walked into this building, I was overcome by a feeling that I was in the right place… learning that a Chartres labyrinth is now part of the architecture of the place, and that it was put in while I was living here, has only made the living here sweeter.
Soon I will leave this nest for a new one – I don’t know exactly when or how. But it will be soon, and then I will move into a different phase of my life, one in which I am not living by myself. In the meantime, I have acquired some good habits and some discipline about keeping my personal space cleaner and tidier. But I gotta say, I am SO looking forward to having somebody else to cook for, I’m going to cook and bake like a maniac the first couple of weeks.
On Sunday I will have been off smokes for two weeks. It’ll be interesting to see if I can avoid smoking the next time I see Paul or daughter Katie.
No, not Pete, some other guy on the Internet.
Scanged from Fark. This could never have happened with me and Paul. I would have figured him out from the typos almost immediately. Mind you, I will never in a thousand lifetimes be able to fix an aircraft, so the typos aren’t really an i
ssue in the grand scheme of things.
Yesterday somebody asked me how the manhunt was going (not, thank God) and referred me to Craigslist. I said, “Been there, etc.; I got one nebbish, one crazy, and one nice guy who didn’t want to have anything to do with me. I’ll stick with what I got, and nobody has to listen to me snore, thanks!”
I keep watching the Happy Feet section of King of Jazz. I really like watching Paul Whiteman dance – yes, I like watching the fat guy dance. What’s wrong with that? The other thing I keep watching is the unbelievable King of Jazz S&M sequence in “I’d like to do things for you” which, honest to Murgatroyd, is odd beyond compare. When the guy starts lisping about spanking in baby talk my mouth hangs open about a yard.
We were down three people at work yesterday, and I got to be on the phone all day. But the Fool was my day card, so I went into every interaction as a brand new fool – and all the customers were wonderful except one, and he turned out not to be my problem. Anyway, I got a pile of orders to the ceiling, so, on the assumption that today will be like yesterday (it won’t…..) I’ll go into work a trifle early.
I restrung my guitar yesterday, the Nanostrings having grown this weird fungus-y thing on them. I got Martin bronze and steels instead. Immediately one of my old songs “All the Con Men I have Known” which is partly about Brian W – wherever he is, and partly about Kevin D – ditto, at least from what his wife tells me – and partly about Wally Solotow, may the goddess rest his soul, came into my mind and I rehearsed it for tonight. I then picked up the guitar and wrung it into shape (the Seagull stays in tune very well once you bang it in) and got the chorus to a song which is going to be called “Little Cat” except of course it’s not about cats at all. Then I started work on a mando chord progression which is extremely weird but I think will eventually turn into a song.
I am going to share a small secret. About half a dozen times in my life, I’ve written a song that wasn’t true at the time but reflected a situation or emotional state, good or bad, and over time the EXACT words of the song have come true; or have since become hideously ironic. I wrote a song with the lines “Well I wish I knew when we’d meet on earth again” within about 12 hours of Glenda dying last year, and that was a little close for comfort, when I found out afterwards, especially as my recollection of the song was that I had to stop what I was doing and write it. I recollect it clearly; I was in the kitchen and for once alone in the house (songwriting with Keith around is an entire pain in the ass). Anyway, it happened again. I can’t say I’m entirely happy about it, because it’s just so bizarre, and the experiment is not repeatable or quantifiable, but imagine what it’s like to be me these days! Just think, if I write the correct lyrics I’ll win the lottery.
Pic is of the moon over the city from the deck at Jericho.
So, is this guy a sociopath, or just a hardass. You be the decider type person.
scanged from Fark.
Barry Gibb has a blog. I guess everybody does.
and now I’m watching “Walk the Line”. Tonight I’m going with Keith to see “3:10 to Yuma”. Kind of a Mangold festival.
Ooooh that’s good coffee I made. Yarr!
Tomorrow, rehearsal for Sunday church. I’ll see if I can avoid walking out this Sunday – I was most distressed last Sunday.
Keith lost his phone. This is a message to the karmic beings – kick the ass of the little sod who picked it up and then started harassing everybody on the phone list!!! Got hold of Paul who killed the phone stone dead within instants, thank Goodness.
My apartment is SHINY CLEAN except I gotta take out the trash.
Daughter Katie’s best friend from high school moved back to town. I detect the possibility of roommatishness.
The Secret Policeman’s Other Camping Trip is now scheduled for the 22nd of September. I is SO TEMPTED to invite the CEO but that would likely crimp the connections of the other invitees, so I’ll just think about it really hard. This time I would buy the beer….
Just noticed that the bassist in Walk the Line is the same guy who played the jock in Buffy.
More coffee.
I think I will serenade one of my coworkers today. Peter A said he would be very happy to accept my serenade, but I told him:
Mandos are LOUD instruments… well they are, for their size. And no work will get done while I am singing to which his response was to purse his lips and raise one eyebrow, something he does so well he really should get paid extra for it. Anyway, if I actually do sing to him it will be “Buy me a Beer” aka “The Cougar’s Love Call”.
RobofNine and I ate at the Himalaya last night. Umm, umm, yum.
The first thought in my head this morning was “If I ever own a country house I’m going to call it Guinnessfree.” And I think my mother is the only person who reads this blog who will appreciate that.
Jericho was lovely. The headliners were Kathy Francis and Andrea Smith and they played a most wonderful assortment of songs, and even closed with a filk of “I only have eyes for you” which laments the fact that BC teachers can no longer give F’s but must give “I’s”. So “I only have “I’s” for you” got a big laugh as the closing number. I got to go up second during the open stage, which as always was great and included AMAZING slide resonator guitar.
I took a wonderful picture of the moon but I can’t get it to resize so I can post it. Grr.
Every night since I came home from Victoria I’ve lain for about five minutes, convincing myself that the stupid scary rabbit from Donnie Darko isn’t in my room.
I’m never taking the Skytrain coming home from Jericho again, the bus is way more civilized. The 135 runs pretty well all night and the 145 stops at 12:30, so I’ll take the 4 to Hastings and the 135 home. I cleared my door before midnight. And I would have been home sooner but I missed the 10:35 by about 30 seconds, which was annoying.
Grasshopper and flower from Jeff’s garden. Jeff dividing our pizza in two. Eddie peering out through a hole in the screen at Jeff’s place.
So Katie K and I went to the Vancouver Art Gallery (odd to go there when there’s no zombies, protesting or dope smoking) and saw the current exhibit which I highly recommend. I almost started crying in front of a Van Gogh – it was SO EMOTIONAL and the difference between the painting and any reproductions is very startling. I spent a LONG time in front of Tissot’s Specimen of a Portrait and ended up buying a print of it in the gift shop. The lace on the dress is unreal. Picasso’s “Life” is worth seeing in life. There were some Rodin sculptures that just had me shaking my head. After all this time, his Balzac is still an amazing bloody feat.
Then to Granville for sashimi and Asahi beer and Katie K had plum wine. Then we poked our heads in to a couple of clothing stores, including Bedo, but there’s no goddamned way I’m spending 40 bucks on something so poorly made!!! It was a cute top but the seams were a disaster. I bought a couple of nose thingies for daughter Katie from a street vendor.
Lots of ear flapping. Katie K is going off to see her mum sometime next week… who is rapidly recovering from a stroke, out in the wilds of Maine.
I did my back exercises this morning but I hurt worse now than I did then. That probably has more to do with standing and gawking at pictures than the exercises.
Why would a politician apologize for a drunken episode in a New York strip club? Especially if he was Australian?
Ogden Nash was born.
many footpounds of torque were applied to this interpretation of the words of Cat Faber.
This is an interesting cultural artifact. It appears to have been made by someone who lives in southeast Asia. I enjoyed it – I think somebody snuck up in the night and filed off my last tastebud, though.