we all know those missed moments. those frustrating exchanges that leave us tossing and turning in bed, overcome with the too-late, too-perfect snappy responses. when we wish we could have said something, christ anything, before the moment slipped away. well tonight, i'd like to raise a glass and toast my uncle for avoiding such an unfortunate fate.
this uncle is tall, lanky and wonderful. great smile, great sense of humour, great soul. he is quiet, gentle and smart as a whip.
once upon a time, my parents used to have a business. and then one day, stuff happened and they no longer had a business. who knows, maybe they blew it. maybe they got screwed. maybe there was an orgy of miscommunication. maybe some guys were real fucking money-guzzling, anal-raping, sociopathesque (in that, you know, get-ahead-in-business kinda way) jerks. i wasn't there, i don't know.
but let's just say that years later (and not long ago), a certain money-guzzling, anal-raping sociopathesque (in that, you know, get-ahead-in-business kinda way) jerk strolls into my uncle's workplace (a scrapyard). the jerk wants to sell.. well, without giving away too many revelatory details (it's a rather specific item that few people would have), let's just say he wants to sell a big ol' metallic cylindrical thing. however, instead of being offered the large wad o' cash he had been dreaming of getting for his big ol' metallic cylindrical thing, he is told that not only will the scrapyard not buy it - they will in fact have to charge him a wad o' cash to dispose of it.
cursing and muttering, he storms away. on his way out, he passes my uncle.
"hey," my uncle's soft voice says. "i know what you can do with that big metallic cylindrical thing you're trying to get rid of."
the jerk pauses, failing to recognize the man he has met before (they had met through my folks' business). "oh yea, what's that?"
"well, you can take it and then shift it so it's oblong. then you can bend over and shove it up your ass."
and oh, what fun to grinningly imagine his face aghast as he flabberghastedly stammers, "wha... who... ermph..."
ok, so it wasn't oscar wilde. but i still would have liked to witness it. oh, that second just before the line, when the jerk thought he was being offered help; the way he must have been listening intently...
and so cheers! yay for you, sweet uncle! i'm sure you savoured the delicious moment for us all.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Monday, August 21, 2006
exiled expressionism
it's a funny thing, language.
just ask my "cunning linguist" (ba-dum-pum) friend miranda, and she'll tell you about the many intricate and joyful twists of the word.
and you know, i like words. (incase you hadn't guessed.)
sometimes, it's just the sound of the stacked syllables. an example of this quasi-fetish lies in my undying lust for a band called soul coughing. i won't digress too much, but i will say i saw them live at the now tragically defunct starfish room, and it remains one of the best shows i've ever seen or dreamed of ever. EVER.
soul coughing was fronted by a poet (and backed by brilliant and quirky musicians). these fellas liked to play. and oh my fuck, the lyrics... i could spend whole days wantonly wrapping my lips around their words: "quadrilateral i was, now i warp like a smile." "flipped an ash like a wild loose comma." "janine, i drink you up." "
aw fuck, i could dedicate a whole post exclusively to the words that sprang from their songs. but that would be UBER-digressing and so i must resist!
right then... so i remember once, miranda and i tried to invent our own slang. not like how young kids create their own personal language that the big uns won't understand. nope: we wanted to hear strangers uttering our expression in unknown bars in unknown cities. we were young (ahh, won't we always be, in some silly way?) and our attempt was so amateur, it kinda hurts a little to remember it. at that moment in time, "everyone" kept saying, about damned near everything: "that's crazy." (the line has since been replaced by some reference to smoking crack. it may have changed since, i must admit ignorance if it has.) well, we thought, wouldn't it be hiLAYrious if we started saying: "that's perfectly sane" instead.
yeah. it didn't catch on. but damn if we didn't think that was the cleverest thing this side of lordbyronia.
which brings me to the topic at hand.
my computer time of late has been more sketchy than a downtown eastsider's excuse for needing money. (a lost tourist? have a car broken down and need some 83-zone transit fare? puh-lease. i can respect need, but don't insult us.) but tonight i was granted the sacred gift of having just the right amount of energy to not flake out in front of a boob tube (living in borrowed homes has meant a lot more tv than i'm used to - damned that accursed afflicted addictive ridiculousness!!!!!!!), and just enough energy to plunder my soul for thoughts. and so i wrote a blog thingy. and then i reread it. and then i reread some of the posts that preceded it.
and i saw a trend. i'm not talking about the deep heavy inner cycle trend shit. yeah sure, i saw that too - as always (the gift and curse of keeping track). but i'm talking about something more frivolous, so chill the fuck out already!! the trend i refer to was a sad little turn of phrase i used in most of my last blog entries.
the formula: "this side of." a recent example: "isn't this just the loveliest day in the friendliest city this side of happy land?" another recent example: "the sweetest bus ride this side of the rainbow." and one more, just for kicks: "the best free music this side of the french quarter."
christ on a stick, repetitive much? and i had NO IDEA i was doing it. i bet each time i came up with the turn of phrase, i giggled at whatever i'd just written. but come the fuck on kaen (witness me slap my wrist): just because you're amused and you thought it was "clever with a capital K", it DOESN'T mean it's worth actually dressing up and sending out into the world! i mean shit girl, you're amused by smoking a bowl, sipping some wine and puttering around home blathering to your silly self. so: what the fuck do you know???"
but i have to warn me (and you, if you care): no end in sight. i already have a new expressional trend. the formula is: "since sliced..." (you know, from the expression "since sliced bread".) for example (the first impetuous utterance to inspire my new expressional craze): "oh my fuck, that is the cutest thing since sliced kitten."
well......... much like "perfectly sane", my attempted: "the stupidest thing since sliced Bush"," "the hottest thing since sliced Branjelina" and "the weirdest thing since sliced Raelians" just haven't caught on.
(either.)
bah. what the fuck do i know of trends...
just ask my "cunning linguist" (ba-dum-pum) friend miranda, and she'll tell you about the many intricate and joyful twists of the word.
and you know, i like words. (incase you hadn't guessed.)
sometimes, it's just the sound of the stacked syllables. an example of this quasi-fetish lies in my undying lust for a band called soul coughing. i won't digress too much, but i will say i saw them live at the now tragically defunct starfish room, and it remains one of the best shows i've ever seen or dreamed of ever. EVER.
soul coughing was fronted by a poet (and backed by brilliant and quirky musicians). these fellas liked to play. and oh my fuck, the lyrics... i could spend whole days wantonly wrapping my lips around their words: "quadrilateral i was, now i warp like a smile." "flipped an ash like a wild loose comma." "janine, i drink you up." "
aw fuck, i could dedicate a whole post exclusively to the words that sprang from their songs. but that would be UBER-digressing and so i must resist!
right then... so i remember once, miranda and i tried to invent our own slang. not like how young kids create their own personal language that the big uns won't understand. nope: we wanted to hear strangers uttering our expression in unknown bars in unknown cities. we were young (ahh, won't we always be, in some silly way?) and our attempt was so amateur, it kinda hurts a little to remember it. at that moment in time, "everyone" kept saying, about damned near everything: "that's crazy." (the line has since been replaced by some reference to smoking crack. it may have changed since, i must admit ignorance if it has.) well, we thought, wouldn't it be hiLAYrious if we started saying: "that's perfectly sane" instead.
yeah. it didn't catch on. but damn if we didn't think that was the cleverest thing this side of lordbyronia.
which brings me to the topic at hand.
my computer time of late has been more sketchy than a downtown eastsider's excuse for needing money. (a lost tourist? have a car broken down and need some 83-zone transit fare? puh-lease. i can respect need, but don't insult us.) but tonight i was granted the sacred gift of having just the right amount of energy to not flake out in front of a boob tube (living in borrowed homes has meant a lot more tv than i'm used to - damned that accursed afflicted addictive ridiculousness!!!!!!!), and just enough energy to plunder my soul for thoughts. and so i wrote a blog thingy. and then i reread it. and then i reread some of the posts that preceded it.
and i saw a trend. i'm not talking about the deep heavy inner cycle trend shit. yeah sure, i saw that too - as always (the gift and curse of keeping track). but i'm talking about something more frivolous, so chill the fuck out already!! the trend i refer to was a sad little turn of phrase i used in most of my last blog entries.
the formula: "this side of." a recent example: "isn't this just the loveliest day in the friendliest city this side of happy land?" another recent example: "the sweetest bus ride this side of the rainbow." and one more, just for kicks: "the best free music this side of the french quarter."
christ on a stick, repetitive much? and i had NO IDEA i was doing it. i bet each time i came up with the turn of phrase, i giggled at whatever i'd just written. but come the fuck on kaen (witness me slap my wrist): just because you're amused and you thought it was "clever with a capital K", it DOESN'T mean it's worth actually dressing up and sending out into the world! i mean shit girl, you're amused by smoking a bowl, sipping some wine and puttering around home blathering to your silly self. so: what the fuck do you know???"
but i have to warn me (and you, if you care): no end in sight. i already have a new expressional trend. the formula is: "since sliced..." (you know, from the expression "since sliced bread".) for example (the first impetuous utterance to inspire my new expressional craze): "oh my fuck, that is the cutest thing since sliced kitten."
well......... much like "perfectly sane", my attempted: "the stupidest thing since sliced Bush"," "the hottest thing since sliced Branjelina" and "the weirdest thing since sliced Raelians" just haven't caught on.
(either.)
bah. what the fuck do i know of trends...
Sunday, August 20, 2006
simmer down, sista!!!
so let me tell you about the other day. it was a beautiful day. (again.) (my god this city is beautiful.) (but i digress.) i was starting my fabulous new job that beautiful afternoon. (yes, afternoon. for those of you who've figured out i'm a bit of a night owl, you can imagine how deleriously blissed out i was when i was told my training (for a theatre gig, did i mention that?) started at 3 pm...)
i kicked off the day with a slow, sumptuous tea-sippin morning in my fabulous friend's stunning home. (which she graciously found a way to get me the keys to when i suddenly appeared back in town while she was away; woohoo to her and yay for me!) and then i prepared to "dash off to work" - allowing myself a very luxurious hour to cycle down to my beautiful new "office" - a gorgeous park overlooking the gorgeous ocean, and oh so conveniently right off the gorgeous seaside bike trail.
did i mention it was a beautiful day? flecks of wedding dress cotton candy frolicked in an aegean sky. it was a hot summer day, but with none of that smog-heat-humidity-from-hell i'd grown to cower from back in the old homeland.
humming, smiling, admiring and riding, i plunged into my day. at one point, i found myself needing to cross a busy street. in my stupid-grinned cyclandering, i'd lingered too long one one bike trail and had strayed a half block too far to join up with the ritzy seaside trail. but ah, look! a half block back sat the brightly painted slash slash slash of white perpendicularising the busy street and connecting right to the blessed path i'd been seeking! a sign, to be sure, from the gods. (or bike trail engineers.)
so i moseyed on over to the crosswalk, leaned back in my bike's sadistic seat (well, it can't all be purrfect, can it!?) and waited for the cars to pass. now let me be clear: vancouver is a pedestrian's paradise. if i had *wanted* to cross at that very moment, i could have. the slightest gesture of intent would have inspired an immediate vehicular ceasefire.
as it was, it turned out all i needed to do was admire the beautiful sky. because as i was doing so, i heard a lull in the traffic hum: oh, my turn! but in fact, a kind man had stopped his charging car for lil ol' me! how gallant! i waved and smiled at him and made my way to the median that seperated the opposing directions. and i paused there, waiting for the lone oncoming car to pass.
and don't you just know it, once again the kind car had stopped for lil ol' me. "well golly gosh," i said to myself, "isn't this just the loveliest day in the friendliest city this side of happy land? shucks."
as i wheeled across that last side of the street, i lifted my head to wave at, and smile at the driver. la la la-la! and man, talk about a shock to the system when i looked up and witnessed a perhaps beautiful woman's face contort into tex averian animosity. i rode by in frozen horror, suddenly beholding the mad mug of beelzebub itself. i felt my face contort into confusion as her eyebrows fused into a jagged hedge, her eyes wide and rolling, her mouth contorted by hate.
"YOU'RE NOT A PEDESTRIAN!!!" she shouted, gesticulating madly.
(you don't say)
i couldn't even begin to imagine what the hell her problem was, so i hastily retraced our brief encounter's steps. well, i hadn't cut her off. i had paused patiently in the median, and she had willingly stopped for me. so perhaps her foam-lipped words held the clue. i'm not a pedestrian. right. well, perhaps the issue is that bicycles not allowed to use "pedestrian" crosswalks, and it's a cause that is very dear to her heart. well, if bikes can't use 'em, colour me ignorant and i'd love it if someone could clear that up for me. most especially because while it was perhaps not specifically indicated by signs in this case, quite often these city-planned paths *specifically* (i.e. as directed by white-on-green-signs) cross these sacred crosswalks. so if it's "illegal" or "wrong", someone should talk to the city, cuz that's a big problem...
so... would it have been better if i'd dismounted and walked across? i mean, it would have made me a "pedestrian." but would that not have slowed the process, potentially causing her head to literally explode? cuz i ain't joshin ya when i say she didn't look too far from it as it was...
still today i haven't the foggiest clue in hell what she needed me to do. and that was frustrating. but mostly, i just feel bad for her. she had done something nice - pausing her precious day to allow a smiling stranger to pass. (even though i would happily have waited the 0.8 seconds for her to drive by before crossing...) but instead of appreciating her moment of generosity, she decided it was actually a perfect moment to unleash the volcano of vitriole she'd been drowning in since/because of ...? who knows. maybe she'd had a fight with her asshole husband. maybe she had irritable bowel syndrome. maybe her daughter had died in a cycling accident while cycling across a crosswalk.
what do i know of it.
all i know is suddenly, i found myself flailing in her tidal wave of negativity, and my mellow was seriously harshed. well, certainly surprised. shocked a little. and so, what was i supposed to do with this fresh load of shit? ingest it as i ingest everything life tosses at me? and then what, get all irate? take it out on some other unsuspecting innocent? get pissed off at that first fella: "he should have just kept going so i could cross when there was a healthy lull and nobody would have been inconvenienced!!!" get pissed at this woman who might be having a rough moment/day/week/year and had decided to take that out on everyone who should stumble across her puerile path because she hadn't figured out how to cope with the real problem in her own fucking world?
well, i guess i could have done that. i'll admit, i contemplated it for a second. but then i just shrugged, smiled for the kind man who wanted to do something nice for a fellow human on the side of the road, sighed a little for that poor miserable woman who hated that same stranger and hoped she felt better soon, and cycled on my merry little way.
i kicked off the day with a slow, sumptuous tea-sippin morning in my fabulous friend's stunning home. (which she graciously found a way to get me the keys to when i suddenly appeared back in town while she was away; woohoo to her and yay for me!) and then i prepared to "dash off to work" - allowing myself a very luxurious hour to cycle down to my beautiful new "office" - a gorgeous park overlooking the gorgeous ocean, and oh so conveniently right off the gorgeous seaside bike trail.
did i mention it was a beautiful day? flecks of wedding dress cotton candy frolicked in an aegean sky. it was a hot summer day, but with none of that smog-heat-humidity-from-hell i'd grown to cower from back in the old homeland.
humming, smiling, admiring and riding, i plunged into my day. at one point, i found myself needing to cross a busy street. in my stupid-grinned cyclandering, i'd lingered too long one one bike trail and had strayed a half block too far to join up with the ritzy seaside trail. but ah, look! a half block back sat the brightly painted slash slash slash of white perpendicularising the busy street and connecting right to the blessed path i'd been seeking! a sign, to be sure, from the gods. (or bike trail engineers.)
so i moseyed on over to the crosswalk, leaned back in my bike's sadistic seat (well, it can't all be purrfect, can it!?) and waited for the cars to pass. now let me be clear: vancouver is a pedestrian's paradise. if i had *wanted* to cross at that very moment, i could have. the slightest gesture of intent would have inspired an immediate vehicular ceasefire.
as it was, it turned out all i needed to do was admire the beautiful sky. because as i was doing so, i heard a lull in the traffic hum: oh, my turn! but in fact, a kind man had stopped his charging car for lil ol' me! how gallant! i waved and smiled at him and made my way to the median that seperated the opposing directions. and i paused there, waiting for the lone oncoming car to pass.
and don't you just know it, once again the kind car had stopped for lil ol' me. "well golly gosh," i said to myself, "isn't this just the loveliest day in the friendliest city this side of happy land? shucks."
as i wheeled across that last side of the street, i lifted my head to wave at, and smile at the driver. la la la-la! and man, talk about a shock to the system when i looked up and witnessed a perhaps beautiful woman's face contort into tex averian animosity. i rode by in frozen horror, suddenly beholding the mad mug of beelzebub itself. i felt my face contort into confusion as her eyebrows fused into a jagged hedge, her eyes wide and rolling, her mouth contorted by hate.
"YOU'RE NOT A PEDESTRIAN!!!" she shouted, gesticulating madly.
(you don't say)
i couldn't even begin to imagine what the hell her problem was, so i hastily retraced our brief encounter's steps. well, i hadn't cut her off. i had paused patiently in the median, and she had willingly stopped for me. so perhaps her foam-lipped words held the clue. i'm not a pedestrian. right. well, perhaps the issue is that bicycles not allowed to use "pedestrian" crosswalks, and it's a cause that is very dear to her heart. well, if bikes can't use 'em, colour me ignorant and i'd love it if someone could clear that up for me. most especially because while it was perhaps not specifically indicated by signs in this case, quite often these city-planned paths *specifically* (i.e. as directed by white-on-green-signs) cross these sacred crosswalks. so if it's "illegal" or "wrong", someone should talk to the city, cuz that's a big problem...
so... would it have been better if i'd dismounted and walked across? i mean, it would have made me a "pedestrian." but would that not have slowed the process, potentially causing her head to literally explode? cuz i ain't joshin ya when i say she didn't look too far from it as it was...
still today i haven't the foggiest clue in hell what she needed me to do. and that was frustrating. but mostly, i just feel bad for her. she had done something nice - pausing her precious day to allow a smiling stranger to pass. (even though i would happily have waited the 0.8 seconds for her to drive by before crossing...) but instead of appreciating her moment of generosity, she decided it was actually a perfect moment to unleash the volcano of vitriole she'd been drowning in since/because of ...? who knows. maybe she'd had a fight with her asshole husband. maybe she had irritable bowel syndrome. maybe her daughter had died in a cycling accident while cycling across a crosswalk.
what do i know of it.
all i know is suddenly, i found myself flailing in her tidal wave of negativity, and my mellow was seriously harshed. well, certainly surprised. shocked a little. and so, what was i supposed to do with this fresh load of shit? ingest it as i ingest everything life tosses at me? and then what, get all irate? take it out on some other unsuspecting innocent? get pissed off at that first fella: "he should have just kept going so i could cross when there was a healthy lull and nobody would have been inconvenienced!!!" get pissed at this woman who might be having a rough moment/day/week/year and had decided to take that out on everyone who should stumble across her puerile path because she hadn't figured out how to cope with the real problem in her own fucking world?
well, i guess i could have done that. i'll admit, i contemplated it for a second. but then i just shrugged, smiled for the kind man who wanted to do something nice for a fellow human on the side of the road, sighed a little for that poor miserable woman who hated that same stranger and hoped she felt better soon, and cycled on my merry little way.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
cheers!
today was a great day.
after a few sluggish days of outstretched attempt, i have found a home and work. a really cool home. a home in the core of my east side pride. and the trickiest part: a fabulous temporary home that will just see me through to nov, when i settle into my proper new home. a home in which i can unpack my bags and start so many tomorrows.
and work! really cool work! work with great people on a great festival on a great site in a beautiful city. work that will keep me moving in the big air. work that will take me in its warm fold and deliver me to october - right when other swirls of opportunity should be meeting in a delicious apex of yes. work that starts TOMORROW!!
and work with a boss so cool, i could grinningly say to him, when he offers me a position i'm all over like a puppy's tongue on spilled shmutz: "you realize this means i'm going to miss pete and erin's famous island party this weekend??" (on an island, not "island" themed...). a boss so cool, he figured out how to work it so i wouldn't miss it.
and so i raise my chin to smile upon, and raise a glass to toast the beneficient gods who always take such good care of me. thanks!
after a few sluggish days of outstretched attempt, i have found a home and work. a really cool home. a home in the core of my east side pride. and the trickiest part: a fabulous temporary home that will just see me through to nov, when i settle into my proper new home. a home in which i can unpack my bags and start so many tomorrows.
and work! really cool work! work with great people on a great festival on a great site in a beautiful city. work that will keep me moving in the big air. work that will take me in its warm fold and deliver me to october - right when other swirls of opportunity should be meeting in a delicious apex of yes. work that starts TOMORROW!!
and work with a boss so cool, i could grinningly say to him, when he offers me a position i'm all over like a puppy's tongue on spilled shmutz: "you realize this means i'm going to miss pete and erin's famous island party this weekend??" (on an island, not "island" themed...). a boss so cool, he figured out how to work it so i wouldn't miss it.
and so i raise my chin to smile upon, and raise a glass to toast the beneficient gods who always take such good care of me. thanks!
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
surrender, dorothy
since parting ways with my sexy beau in march, i have had the key to 10 places in which to lay my weary head, and unpack my worn bags. 10 beds in 5 months.
i have had to negotiate the smoking, liquor and recycling vagaries in 4 provinces.
and i'm now on my 4th phone number (3rd area code) of the year!!
...no wonder i sometimes feel so exhausted!!
but now the wind has blown west, and i find my feet landed on vancouver soil. this time, i even think it's for real: i'm actually looking for work and a home. the time to hide from reality has passed, and i'm ready to start living again!
i'm ready for ebulient banter with friends, old and new. i'm ready for festivals and art galleries. i'm ready for anonymity. ...and standing out from the crowd.
small time life was interesting. (for the two tiny months i experienced it!) some of it was GREAT, namely: i'm well started on a play i'm very excited about, and did some great work on my poems. even submitted some stuff! so that was very, very excellent. but i'm a city girl. i love the plethoraness of it all! i love the ceaseless din and whir of life. i love pubs with walls of exotic fish...
so then, there's one more month of summer, and i am alive in the city!
click. click. click.
there's no place like home.
i have had to negotiate the smoking, liquor and recycling vagaries in 4 provinces.
and i'm now on my 4th phone number (3rd area code) of the year!!
...no wonder i sometimes feel so exhausted!!
but now the wind has blown west, and i find my feet landed on vancouver soil. this time, i even think it's for real: i'm actually looking for work and a home. the time to hide from reality has passed, and i'm ready to start living again!
i'm ready for ebulient banter with friends, old and new. i'm ready for festivals and art galleries. i'm ready for anonymity. ...and standing out from the crowd.
small time life was interesting. (for the two tiny months i experienced it!) some of it was GREAT, namely: i'm well started on a play i'm very excited about, and did some great work on my poems. even submitted some stuff! so that was very, very excellent. but i'm a city girl. i love the plethoraness of it all! i love the ceaseless din and whir of life. i love pubs with walls of exotic fish...
so then, there's one more month of summer, and i am alive in the city!
click. click. click.
there's no place like home.
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