Alana was remembering her first job at a chinese buffet. on birthdays, she recalled, a handful of the waitresses (pardon me, servers) would head over to the dessert table and concoct some sweet monstrosity for the unfortunate celebrant.
she shakes her head at the memory, soft honeyed brown hair swishing on the waves of her laughter.
"you couldn't imagine some of the things we put in front of those poor people."
and for a second, my mind raced into a parallel universe, where some artist is drinking wine and celebrating the opening of a show: installation pieces of heaped masses of buffet desserts. it's a massive hit.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Monday, April 25, 2005
carpe omnia
i'm not a pothead!
...i only smoke pot on special occasions.
but see, i'm a loyal devotée of the school of carpe diem (or as the drunken poets society i spent afternoons with back in guelph oh so many years ago would say, "carpe omnia" - seize everything). as such, every day must be hailed as important, to be savoured and celebrated. even the quiet is celebrated. the boisterious, the new, the calm, the old - all cry out for love and i benevolently dote on them all.
i'm not a pothead.
i just celebrate a lot.
...i only smoke pot on special occasions.
but see, i'm a loyal devotée of the school of carpe diem (or as the drunken poets society i spent afternoons with back in guelph oh so many years ago would say, "carpe omnia" - seize everything). as such, every day must be hailed as important, to be savoured and celebrated. even the quiet is celebrated. the boisterious, the new, the calm, the old - all cry out for love and i benevolently dote on them all.
i'm not a pothead.
i just celebrate a lot.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
adieu ikea
wow, that title has a lot of vowels... right, let us begin. today's offering is a very silly, drunken rambling, scrawled just last night: mere hours ago!!
i was flipping through an ikea catalogue (not shopping but rather, making art - découpage, dahling.) and it suddenly occurred to me that they are no longer marketing to me. the first clue was the 5-page section on orthopedic beds. well… i didn’t read the literature to get their qualifications, but they sure looked healthy. like those beds from those commercials during Three’s Company, with the silvered lady and her polydent smile, holding a remote control that eased her into pleasing contortions.
but it appears that i am officially no longer the kind of folk ikea like to associate with. this is startling! i mean - who am i if not an ikea consumer?? while it’s true that i never graduated past ikea-neophyte status, with the odd plant or bookcase, and the occasionally enjoyed underpriced foodstuffs tenuously garanteeing my membership. but at least i was a part of it! sucked by its undertow to a place of belonging.
i saw it coming of course. it started back when they began focusing so much of their floorspace to the breeders. while still generationally simpatico, already i was beginning to be excluded from the dream of ikea. but the tea lights and chrome light fixtures kept me hoping, drawn in, drooling in the storefronts of their ready-made chic – as playful and contrived as “right out of bed” hair product.
but now i am a child alone, no ikea to fall back on, no storefront to call my home.
meh.
(she shrugs, laughs, takes another sip of beer.)
i was flipping through an ikea catalogue (not shopping but rather, making art - découpage, dahling.) and it suddenly occurred to me that they are no longer marketing to me. the first clue was the 5-page section on orthopedic beds. well… i didn’t read the literature to get their qualifications, but they sure looked healthy. like those beds from those commercials during Three’s Company, with the silvered lady and her polydent smile, holding a remote control that eased her into pleasing contortions.
but it appears that i am officially no longer the kind of folk ikea like to associate with. this is startling! i mean - who am i if not an ikea consumer?? while it’s true that i never graduated past ikea-neophyte status, with the odd plant or bookcase, and the occasionally enjoyed underpriced foodstuffs tenuously garanteeing my membership. but at least i was a part of it! sucked by its undertow to a place of belonging.
i saw it coming of course. it started back when they began focusing so much of their floorspace to the breeders. while still generationally simpatico, already i was beginning to be excluded from the dream of ikea. but the tea lights and chrome light fixtures kept me hoping, drawn in, drooling in the storefronts of their ready-made chic – as playful and contrived as “right out of bed” hair product.
but now i am a child alone, no ikea to fall back on, no storefront to call my home.
meh.
(she shrugs, laughs, takes another sip of beer.)
Monday, April 11, 2005
i love my neighborhood!
i love my neighborhood, for it gave me saturday: the jewel of my "weekend of the impromptu."
but first, a quick nod to an also splendid friday. after over a month's absence, i finally made it to that poetry gathering thing i've been known to frequent on friday nights. and i was even able to read some of my new poetry, which went over well, very excellent. afterwards, one of the fellers (lovely guy who introduced me to a beautiful free greenhouse/conservatory earlier this year) was having a party that i gleefully crashed (although, since he gleefully hosted me i guess it doesn't count as crashing!?) fun part of the night was discovering that nancy isn't married to michael after all, but to that other fella. in fact, michael's not married at all! michael's one of the poets i noticed with a raised eyebrow on my first night, but then dismissed after assuming he was married. well, the discovery was well worth some playful flirtation and a few giggly kisses. but alas, he is not only a poet, he is piscean. very very piscean. so not going there again.
and then saturday, ah saturday! i was supposed to attend a writers' symposium but when the alarm rang at 7:30 am, i was not feeling the love. after a good half hour of pro- and conning it, i curled back up and slept a few more gorgeous hours. waking up ravenous, i decided to ride up queen until i found a new greasy spoon to investigate. and oh, i picked a great one this time that i will definitely need to revisit. no urban hipsters in here, but filled instead with bukowskis and random sordid locals who added spice to the grease, bless 'em. got some great writing done too.
after that, i emerged back into the blazing sun and pondered my next steps. i'd done all the writing i needed to do on the play i'd brought with me, so i definitely needed to go home to gather other stuff if i was to keep writing. but then it occured to me that i didn't even have enough money to have *one* teensy wee beer that would allow me to sit on a patio and write, as my heart was wishing it could. so i shrugged sadly and decided to just go to the beer store, grab a bit of brain-soother, and head home to write. i know i know, indoors on the best day of the year (so far)? insane. i sighed, wishing i at least had a deck to work on...
and then, my prayers were answered! stuffing my beer into my bike's flowered basket, a couple of fellas said "hey, why don't you grab that bohemian and bring it over to '123 street' - we're having a bbq." no need to ask twice. i showed up to their surprise and delight and savoured beer and fun in the sun with bob (of the fabulous, deep, hearty laugh and excellent music collection: zappa, yay!), mike ("i'm not young - i'll be 30 next year!!" who loves to cook and spent most of the day preparing culinary treasures for us), abbey (who sadly didn't join us until later in the evening, having spent the day running running running around getting shit done) and "the dude" (who to my gulped surprise looks an awful lot like david thewlis underneath the scruff (old-time blog fans might remember my obsession with the actor), and who rolled a t-shaped joint that was truly a thing of awe and beauty to behold. i've never smoked anything like it!).
so yay to my neighborhood and hey, now you know: if you see me rambling about and feel the inspiration, why not ask me to join you? odds are i'll say yes. although, i guess i wasn't quite so open-hearted with the white-trash-suburban-homeboys who greeted me with a boisterious "how you doin, girl!" at the grocery store.
...not so much.
but first, a quick nod to an also splendid friday. after over a month's absence, i finally made it to that poetry gathering thing i've been known to frequent on friday nights. and i was even able to read some of my new poetry, which went over well, very excellent. afterwards, one of the fellers (lovely guy who introduced me to a beautiful free greenhouse/conservatory earlier this year) was having a party that i gleefully crashed (although, since he gleefully hosted me i guess it doesn't count as crashing!?) fun part of the night was discovering that nancy isn't married to michael after all, but to that other fella. in fact, michael's not married at all! michael's one of the poets i noticed with a raised eyebrow on my first night, but then dismissed after assuming he was married. well, the discovery was well worth some playful flirtation and a few giggly kisses. but alas, he is not only a poet, he is piscean. very very piscean. so not going there again.
and then saturday, ah saturday! i was supposed to attend a writers' symposium but when the alarm rang at 7:30 am, i was not feeling the love. after a good half hour of pro- and conning it, i curled back up and slept a few more gorgeous hours. waking up ravenous, i decided to ride up queen until i found a new greasy spoon to investigate. and oh, i picked a great one this time that i will definitely need to revisit. no urban hipsters in here, but filled instead with bukowskis and random sordid locals who added spice to the grease, bless 'em. got some great writing done too.
after that, i emerged back into the blazing sun and pondered my next steps. i'd done all the writing i needed to do on the play i'd brought with me, so i definitely needed to go home to gather other stuff if i was to keep writing. but then it occured to me that i didn't even have enough money to have *one* teensy wee beer that would allow me to sit on a patio and write, as my heart was wishing it could. so i shrugged sadly and decided to just go to the beer store, grab a bit of brain-soother, and head home to write. i know i know, indoors on the best day of the year (so far)? insane. i sighed, wishing i at least had a deck to work on...
and then, my prayers were answered! stuffing my beer into my bike's flowered basket, a couple of fellas said "hey, why don't you grab that bohemian and bring it over to '123 street' - we're having a bbq." no need to ask twice. i showed up to their surprise and delight and savoured beer and fun in the sun with bob (of the fabulous, deep, hearty laugh and excellent music collection: zappa, yay!), mike ("i'm not young - i'll be 30 next year!!" who loves to cook and spent most of the day preparing culinary treasures for us), abbey (who sadly didn't join us until later in the evening, having spent the day running running running around getting shit done) and "the dude" (who to my gulped surprise looks an awful lot like david thewlis underneath the scruff (old-time blog fans might remember my obsession with the actor), and who rolled a t-shaped joint that was truly a thing of awe and beauty to behold. i've never smoked anything like it!).
so yay to my neighborhood and hey, now you know: if you see me rambling about and feel the inspiration, why not ask me to join you? odds are i'll say yes. although, i guess i wasn't quite so open-hearted with the white-trash-suburban-homeboys who greeted me with a boisterious "how you doin, girl!" at the grocery store.
...not so much.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
last week
i've been rotten, and i'm sorry. between living my typical rock star life and writing my little heart out on too many projects, new and old, both you and my scribble book have been sorely neglected.
(deal with it.)
so here are the few scratchy scribbles from my last night in the shop. there weren't many though: too much time spent talking shit with people i have already seen again, people i hope to see again, and people i will never see again.
***
her shoulders are squared and yet her torso is craning ever so subtly into him. they are having a passionate discussion that i can't hear over the guitars and crooning. but make no mistake: it is most certainly passionate. there are waves of animated voices, frenetically gesticulated hands, and eyes that have not swayed from each others' fey focus for 2 whole songs.
___
the table tonight is a mosaic: 50, Stella, Keiths, Carlsberg, Guiness.. they rub up against each other in a stained glass dance. sacred in their asymmetry, they mimic this gathered crowd of mismatched souls.
___
maybe what i love so much about the shop is its impermanence. these fleeting moments of loveliness that are gorgeous or fun, but only for that moment. there is nothing tangible, not even in the email or phone numbers i foist onto people who make hollow promises for tomorrows that will never happen. i even pointed that out tonight, talking to some fella i didn't even bother offering coordinates to: "well, i guess i'll never see you again!" "oh, sure you will," he enthused. i laughed gently, "no we won't, but whatever man - it was nice meeting you."
maybe i've just closed the curtains of my heart already. or maybe after tapping into some of that deep-down soul-connection stuff with people who do make things happen and can inspire or involve me, i'm bored with all this drunken banality that only i seem to find possibility in. floating from chair to bench, from conversation to conversation, i was discouraged by the superficiality of it all.
fare thee well, hollow talk and drunken fun. it appears i won't mourn you after all.
(deal with it.)
so here are the few scratchy scribbles from my last night in the shop. there weren't many though: too much time spent talking shit with people i have already seen again, people i hope to see again, and people i will never see again.
***
her shoulders are squared and yet her torso is craning ever so subtly into him. they are having a passionate discussion that i can't hear over the guitars and crooning. but make no mistake: it is most certainly passionate. there are waves of animated voices, frenetically gesticulated hands, and eyes that have not swayed from each others' fey focus for 2 whole songs.
___
the table tonight is a mosaic: 50, Stella, Keiths, Carlsberg, Guiness.. they rub up against each other in a stained glass dance. sacred in their asymmetry, they mimic this gathered crowd of mismatched souls.
___
maybe what i love so much about the shop is its impermanence. these fleeting moments of loveliness that are gorgeous or fun, but only for that moment. there is nothing tangible, not even in the email or phone numbers i foist onto people who make hollow promises for tomorrows that will never happen. i even pointed that out tonight, talking to some fella i didn't even bother offering coordinates to: "well, i guess i'll never see you again!" "oh, sure you will," he enthused. i laughed gently, "no we won't, but whatever man - it was nice meeting you."
maybe i've just closed the curtains of my heart already. or maybe after tapping into some of that deep-down soul-connection stuff with people who do make things happen and can inspire or involve me, i'm bored with all this drunken banality that only i seem to find possibility in. floating from chair to bench, from conversation to conversation, i was discouraged by the superficiality of it all.
fare thee well, hollow talk and drunken fun. it appears i won't mourn you after all.
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