Category: Writing

Worked some more on my routine last night. I am now officially in panic mode, but since that comes close to being my normal state it would be hard for anybody to tell the difference. I forgot to take my vitamins so I feel sort of … I don’t know … sludgy this mornin’. Katie continues to be completely involved in young True Love, while finishing her homework and maintaining something resembling a social life, although I could wish that teenaged boys bearing mace weren’t allowed in with such jolly abandon. (They were gone by the time Paul and I got back from the financial advisor). Cari and Robin have actually registered at Katie and Keith’s school but apparently they aren’t talking to Katie very much. Keith has started Art and had to sketch an iron last night. I think he is very brave to be taking art, considering that like me he has no native skill for it. He did call the roving Mandolin instructor but the instructor is going out of town so he made a recommendation, and it turns out… this is hilarious… that two of the finest instructors of Mandolin in BC live walking distance from this house. I have come to the conclusion that apart from all the grow ops and bikers and untamed ethnics with unregistered rifles, an awful lot of nice and sensible people live in East Burnaby and environs. Paul says there were 20 banjos in one room at the Anza Club on Monday and to this I can only add “The horror! the horror!” as once cannot reasonably assume that they, the fiddle players, the guitarists and the mandolin players, who were all there for slow pitch night at the Bluegrass, were all actually in tune, unless they hired a Big Hairy Guy to force incoming players to twist some pegs. Brooke, I’m thinking of you. Let’s see what else. Katie found a picture of her boyfriend on the internet just by googling his name under images. Note to self. The pic of me on the internet, from Beacon, sucks a mop; I have since disposed of that dress and that godforsaken haircut, and it’s a good thing. Must ask them to remove the pic – it got taken when I stood for the Board of Trustees. Had to put in a special order for the King Cobb Steelie album, but at least it will be cheap. Off to work. So is Paul – four evenings, which means, of course, that he will be missing both of our comedy class performances. Life is massively unfair. Once again, it’s at the Laughing Bean on Hastings, 8 pm this Friday and next. I’ve decided not to invite anybody; if anybody shows up it’s because they actually read my blog. Pic is something random from Xantrex, part of a Christmas display.

I light a candle for Mike who had dental surgery recently and is feeling quite icky from all accounts… he’s not well enough to call himself so I’m glad Toribird gave me an update.

Learned that Paul not only went out drinking last night he PUB CRAWLED. Started at the Anza and ended up at the Yale, which is not actually a bad crawl for two middle aged men. While they were attempting to enjoy the show at the Yale, a prostitute accosted Mike J and Paul. She offered oral satisfaction for the princely sum of $20. Hey, I said, that’s only two hits of rock. And she demanded drinks and smokes. Paul was so grossed out when he was describing it that his voice kept trailing off and he kept shaking his head like a parrot that’s just eaten a garlic clove, thinking it was an almond. I don’t know what offended him more, the notion of paying for it, her general level of unattractiveness (Paul was too polite to give details and I was too spellbound by this glimpse into seediness to ask), or the idea that he looked like a prospect. He was still shuddering and making ick noises even today, which is pretty funny when you think about it. I love the men in my life. They are so very cool, and so very unpretentious.

My laptop at work finally died. CPU crapped out. (After 6 years it didn’t owe us anything). But, and this is probably an apocalyptic sign, it came back to life just long enough for me to back up my data, before it expired one last time as I was trying to put in an order. Moved over one pod and kept working. It’s weird how you get used to one particular desktop and get antsy if you don’t have it any more.

Katie was supposed to come home and do homework… growl. She is, instead, ensconced with her BF. Paul and I cooked a nice big meal… Keith turned his nose up at it and Katie didn’t come home. Grouse, whine. At least I know where she is.

Bizarre looking critter, isn’t it? It actually looks like a superior form of logo or industrial design, but it’s one of the things that happens when water gets cold. Molto cool, as they say. Katie is off administering physical therapy to the boyfriend (go give your dirty mind a bath, he moves furniture for a living and after a week solid of work he’s a complete mess and needs his back worked on), Keith just got back from an invigorating workout, and Paul’s out getting drunk someplace… oh yeah, I guess I should say that he’s drinking 2 whole beers at the Anza club, which apparently has bluegrass tonight. I am just minding my own business, having tidied the house somewhat. La la la. Remember, the server for my blog is in England, so even though it says it’s tomorrow, it’s still really today. If you know what I mean. Stole the MP3 player back from Katie and I just loaded up a bunch of Dandy Warhols. …. more later.

Last night I dreamed that somebody I wouldn’t want to live with showed up at my new house with a truckful of unpacked stuff and then started to complain to passersby that “I had changed” when I said No Way. “I’ll just move all my things into the attic”. Uh, no you won’t.

Sigh. I had to call Paul on the cel phone and let him deal with it. We call this practice “Hiding behind each other’s skirts” when we have a social situation that one of us can deal with and the other one can’t.

Very useful.

Kira is trying to kill an inanimate object. Maybe she should go outside and hunt something.

Katie’s conquest of technology continues apace. Paul said he didn’t want the MP3 player so I got it. Essentially that means Kate got it, because even though I loaded it up with my favourite playlist, she figured out how to get her own music on it, so I’m not taking it to work today. I just handed it back to her and said, uh, yeah, well I don’t want it back until I have a better playlist because I don’t want to listen to Sandstorm by Da Rude. Okay, maybe I do, but it’s one of those things you don’t talk about in public. As for the rest of the songs, wouldn’t you just cry to learn that she put MY tune, Crazymaking Boy, on the playa (You are… my hero from a fable, my supper on the table… etc) and played it for her swain and her swain’s mum last night. Said swain opined That’s Not Your Mom and Katie said, for true it is. Then he listened to it twice. The way to a mom’s heart, et.f.cet.

Keith is making coffee, like the young godling he is. My routine is now half assembled … the young Frankenstein of modern humour. Run…! Run for your very wits!

Pic is some random animal. John’s bike is being recalcitrant. Young love is being radiant. Goofy, but radiant. Bike and Spuffy are being pretty. My physical condition is being difficult. Paul is being wonderful.

Throw me… throw me a lifeline, throw me a lifeline, right now. x 2

My beauty and my ugliness they went for a ride

Beauty said to Ugly baby I gotta drive

Ugly said to Beauty well I don’t mind that

Hit Beauty in the head with a big ol’ baseball bat

Chorus

Operator operator do I really need you

Do I need you to put me through?

Do I need you to open up a line

Do I need you to show me a sign?

Show me, show me a lifeline, throw me a lifeline, right now X 2

You’re doing me a favour; now, when did you decide to keep your mouth shut and your arms out wide? You could be complaining but you just let it slide… you’re the reason I came back to life after I died.

Chorus & fade.

One of the things I’ve noticed about getting older is that I have to have my fun in smaller and smaller doses. I am still battling with a migraine but there’s no headache – just a host of other unpleasant symptoms.

When I got up to make my tea I realized that oobleck (I mean dense wet snow) is falling from the sky, and screamed. Paul immediately came to my rescue and comforted me by saying that it was not staying on the ground.

The picture is of a Colobus monkey delivered by C-section in a zoo incubator. She’s cuddling a stuffed animal. The next picture is a tiger playing in snow at a zoo.

Three things about Japanese Martial Arts tournaments:

Digital cameras;

Lots and lots and lots and lots of medals;

Pocky. Lots and lots and lots and lots of Pocky. “We survived on bottled water and Pocky.” So says Keith, and he brought three boxes home to prove it.

Keith was volunteering at the Sato Cup – scoreboards etc….

Kung Fu guys showed up and did Kung Fu Dancing to really loud Techno music.

I went home sick yesterday, collapsed for a couple of hours, got up, forced myself to eat something, and then lay awake all night listening to my insides creaking and muttering like a ship’s rigging. I think my stomach valve sealed itself shut again. I had to lie on my stomach for a couple of hours to try and encourage my innards to be a little more cooperative. I am going to be very cautious about what I eat today, I think. The tingling and the numbness have pretty much stopped, and the flashies, which is why I can post, but the whole “Life as We Know It has No Meaning and Why Don’t You Just Fling Yourself From the Iron Workers Memorial” feeling has not stopped. The fact that I know it’s an artefact of my brain chemistry (yet another migraine expressing itself) doesn’t help. The thing that scared me most yesterday was the dizzy spell, Paul thinks it’s flu. I dunno.

Bought Paul an MP3 player for Valentines. He can use it at work or run with it; I am hoping it will cheer him up.

I light a candle for all the people who are breaking up right now.

I had yet another snuggly dream last night. The person I dreamed about is about as snuggly as a moray eel so it was an odd sensation; even in the dream you’re thinking (Neo style) ‘Whoa!’

Showcase next Friday. Nobody has their sets together. Especially not me.

Strange tweezer teeth, the ability to eat prey in nano-seconds, and hoowee, check out that schnozz. Ladies and Gentlemen, the Star Nosed Mole.

I am very happy to report that the non boyfriend has been upgraded to boyfriend but that doesn’t mean what you think it does, and that Katie appears to have figured out how to walk independent of the force of gravity.

I am equally happy to report that Keith has a job interview today for a serious job making serious money, and even if he doesn’t get the job he could use the interview experience.

Paul’s on his way home from work …. I only just got up. So it’s blog, drag comb through hair, brush teeth and fly out the door. Class last night was great, other people’s sets are starting to gel nicely. As for me….I bought chocolate croissants, my response to anything like stress. I am so glad it’s Friday, this was a pretty emotional week at work. As in, just holding it in.

This line deleted, about a nice dream I had last night. I’ll take cuddles, even if they’re the product of my fitfully operating brain chemistry.

Brooke’s mater and pater made it into the Georgia Straight yesterday. Very nice haircut…. oh yeah and the article is cool too.

 

Forgot to mention, mOm sent me a movie file of a penguin apparently dancing to techno. God, Kira, I know you’re hungry but jamming your bewhiskered phyz into my ear and screeching is not appropriate right now. Anyway, my mother is getting much more sophisticated about sending me stuff. It’s almost always stuff I haven’t seen and almost 100 percent stuff I want to see. Thanks mOm! I’d post or link it if I knew how or where to find it….

If you know about Hammy Hamster, I don’t have to ‘splain anything. If you don’t, ‘splanations would be pointless, maybe even actively painful. Sigh.

For Immediate Release

Infectious Tapioca has been identified as an immediate hazard to navigation in Vancouver and the GVRD. Symptoms include perseverative humming, mild cursing, inability to concentrate, unconvincing threats of self harm and severe thrumps.Appetite may increase to the point where non food items are ingested; keep your hands and feet away from the face of anyone so afflicted.

If you come in contact with someone with the eruptive stage of Infectious Tapioca, after you stop laughing and pointing, you should back away slowly and avoid the use of microwave ovens, and probably radar installations just to be on the safe side.

Role playing games and Bing Crosby are strongly contraindicated as palliative measures; Mahler and Cribbage seem to assist in some cases.

Do not listen to anything that a person afflicted with Infectious Tapioca may say and try to prevent them from playing with their food, although this may be difficult seeing as how you will not want to get too close to the business end.

May the Goddess have mercy on us all.

My Tapioca song is now so firmly lodged in Brooke that her normal thought processes, a concept fit to frighten us all, are being interfered with. So I thought I would riff on the notion a little.

Baby bears : Two little polar bears born at the zoo in Rostock, northern Germany, are presented to the public. (AFP/DDP/Danny Gohlke)

Big shout out to Glen, who has the Buddha nature

and Katie, who is trying to finish her English course and is having a bit of a hard time

and Robin and Cari, who used to threaten to kill Katie but have since decided to go to Katie’s school and are apparently straightening out their lives, which I have to assume is true since I have actually seen them and invited them into my house to clean their shoes off and they appear to not be threatening and at least one of them has put on weight, which is a good sign in some circumstances

and my Dad, for holding up his corner of the edifice of society, sometimes at extreme personal cost

and my Mom, whose dental surgery stitches come out on Wednesday

and my boss, for frequently acting like the only sane adult within earshot

and Keith, for being consistently entertaining and for COFFEE

and Paul, who is being extra snuggly

and Tori for her amazing art

and Mike, for being Mike (I don’t have the vocabulary to list all the reasons)

and Brother James for the phone which is working great, thanks

and John for his reading from Neal Stephenson’s doorstopper last night (the scene from the carriage ride in the snow, if anybody cares)

and Tom and Peggy of COURSE

and Brooke for offering the loan of sundry DVD’s

and our across the alley neighbours for being such a delight

and the rosemary bush out front, which is turning into a household god; what else blooms in January? And the blooms are such a pretty colour.

In a reverie between bouts of sleep Londo and Sarah Michelle Gellar meet on Babylon 5 and Londo congratulates her as if she’s Buffy, and she leans forward very annoyed and says “My name is Sarah Michelle Gellar” and Londo says, “Yes, and you’re married to Freddie Prinze Jr; I’ll be polite and not mention the divorce. My dear lady, we are all actors. Right now, you’re a human being offended at being mistaken for an actor. Believe me, it could be worse…”

Then I said I can hardly wait for bike and spuffy to do the wild thing, and realized I’m probably still too tired to talk.