c'est juste que des fois je me sens découragée. j'me demande c'est quoi l'esti d'point? 'me semble que les seules personnes qui entendent sont ceux qui savent déjà de quoi que je parle. alors je me dis que j'ai fini avec cette crisse d'histoire d'essayer! de défier! d'inspirer! ça me fatigue et j'en ai marre des crisse d'innocents qui couvrent cette planète avec leur ignorance. qu'ils aillent dont tous chier.
(grand soupir)
ne t'en fais pas - ça va passer, ça passe toujours. quelques jours très silencieux, et puis je reprends ma vigueur et mon optimisme...
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Monday, January 17, 2005
old scraps of half-thoughts
well, i'm scratching away at the last sad pages of my notebook. and so before it's all filled up and no longer follows me on my daily grind, i thought i'd flip through it and resurrect the old scraps of half-thoughts for you...
***
i think i'm a little bit in love with the character the piano man plays. smoky, absurd, distant. flesh, blood and brandy. pity that isn't who he really is.. but despite this - even though i know he sips apple juice, not whiskey, the fact is i can't stop writing every time i hear him play. he sparks that deep uncertain part of my spirit, rubs up against the flint of my disquiet and lulls me to write, write. and i guess even if he isn't his persona, i can forgive him and still love him a little.
***
my instincts are crying GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM! but i WILL. NOT. LISTEN. i'm actually vehemently resisting, and why?? because when we're not trapped in the riddle of "us" - when we can just be and do together, it's so so nice and natural and leaves me feeling happy and charged. like glacier spring water sucked through chapped and bleeding fingers at the top, finally, of the climbed rock. that cold. that hard-earned. that gratifying.
***
oh comfortable self-obsession, oh unchallenging drama. sinking into the couch of my tedium instead of living, doing. stupid lure.
***
we're sitting, drinking vodka.
"too strong," he sighs, stumbling through the phrase and dismissively sliding the glass over to me. "let's trade."
i sip and slip into my best white trash impersonation, "ya call this strong? i danno what the hell yur tawkin about, there isn't even any damned vadka in 'ere!!" we laugh.
"was that good?" i ask. "i was going for the bukowski thing."
"yea, that was really good actually."
"oh good. i need to get some practice, since it's who i'm going to be when i grow up..."
we chuckle and take lazy drags from our cigarettes, fondling the sweating tumblers.
***
the lake lies snoring under the weather, a dust of dew making everything smoky. this is how the shop looks. this is how my memory looks.
***
i'm walking up the street and this man catches my eye. a big, sloppy smile spreads across his face (holy sibiliance batman! -seriously unconscious. heh) he smiles heartily and i smile back.
one step.
two steps.
"excuse me, miss!"
i turn, because i'm hoping he's going to tell me about some astronomical phenomenon, like a comet that will only be seen tonight - this cool, clear-skied night. but he just asks for a smoke. and then turns it down when i tell him they're menthol. it seems beggars can be choosers...
***
i'm writing about myself in the third person, who talks to herself in the second person.
***
***
i think i'm a little bit in love with the character the piano man plays. smoky, absurd, distant. flesh, blood and brandy. pity that isn't who he really is.. but despite this - even though i know he sips apple juice, not whiskey, the fact is i can't stop writing every time i hear him play. he sparks that deep uncertain part of my spirit, rubs up against the flint of my disquiet and lulls me to write, write. and i guess even if he isn't his persona, i can forgive him and still love him a little.
***
my instincts are crying GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM! but i WILL. NOT. LISTEN. i'm actually vehemently resisting, and why?? because when we're not trapped in the riddle of "us" - when we can just be and do together, it's so so nice and natural and leaves me feeling happy and charged. like glacier spring water sucked through chapped and bleeding fingers at the top, finally, of the climbed rock. that cold. that hard-earned. that gratifying.
***
oh comfortable self-obsession, oh unchallenging drama. sinking into the couch of my tedium instead of living, doing. stupid lure.
***
we're sitting, drinking vodka.
"too strong," he sighs, stumbling through the phrase and dismissively sliding the glass over to me. "let's trade."
i sip and slip into my best white trash impersonation, "ya call this strong? i danno what the hell yur tawkin about, there isn't even any damned vadka in 'ere!!" we laugh.
"was that good?" i ask. "i was going for the bukowski thing."
"yea, that was really good actually."
"oh good. i need to get some practice, since it's who i'm going to be when i grow up..."
we chuckle and take lazy drags from our cigarettes, fondling the sweating tumblers.
***
the lake lies snoring under the weather, a dust of dew making everything smoky. this is how the shop looks. this is how my memory looks.
***
i'm walking up the street and this man catches my eye. a big, sloppy smile spreads across his face (holy sibiliance batman! -seriously unconscious. heh) he smiles heartily and i smile back.
one step.
two steps.
"excuse me, miss!"
i turn, because i'm hoping he's going to tell me about some astronomical phenomenon, like a comet that will only be seen tonight - this cool, clear-skied night. but he just asks for a smoke. and then turns it down when i tell him they're menthol. it seems beggars can be choosers...
***
i'm writing about myself in the third person, who talks to herself in the second person.
***
a delicate balance
the delicate art and balance of beer and pot.
the pot inspires just enough inhibition to make you look inward and see yourself; and the beer strips away just enough inhibition to make you share it all with everyone.
the pot inspires just enough inhibition to make you look inward and see yourself; and the beer strips away just enough inhibition to make you share it all with everyone.
Friday, January 14, 2005
easy like a sunday morning
(quick aside, i absolutely LOVE the faith no more version of easy like a sunday morning. check it out if you haven't already...)
i'm lost in a day of blessedly mind-numbed tasks after a beautifully but excruciatingly full week. i've gone out every night this week, and it's been all about theatre. without getting into it too much, cuz that's not what i felt like blathering about, i have seen two really good (dare i say great? yes! great i say, GREAT!) plays. if you're in toronto and are into the theatre thing, i absolutely recommend little dragon at theatre passe muraille and trout stanley at factory theatre. absolutely spectacular.
so back to my brain, fuzzy wuzzy brain. i'm smiling stupidly, glazed-eyed and doe-souled, imagining what i wish i could be doing this sunday.
i'll wake up lazily, deep into the morning. out of respect for my schedule, the sky will have spent the morning showering its onlookers, ready finally to don its sun dress as i awake and open the curtains. as i look out onto the still-shiny streets, i'll almost hear the trees and sky breathing a sigh of relief as they towel themselves off, fresh and awake. i'll glide over to the radio and set it to the Q for some psychedelic sunday action, which i've become a little addicted to. who knew there was a psychedelic rocker lurking deep within me? ok, so it's not that much of a stretch...
after a long hot shower (highlighted by a soulful rendition of Kaen's Shower Favourites - now available on k-tel records), i'll gather some essentials and prepare to meet my friend (who as of yet doesn't actually exist - not this particular friend anyway) at some tiny restaurant. somewhere i don't even know about yet, with walls draped in textured wallpaper and grease and populated by smiling, toothless patrons. we'll eat too much food for too little money, and talk about cognitive liberty and the power of hope. we'll make jokes about pop culture while slurping down thick milkshakes. we'll sink into quiet reverie as we gaze at the lumbering traffic.
bellies distended and minds expanded - however slightly on this slow sunday, we'll stroll over to his place. see, he'll have an extensive neil young music collection that i'll be as anxious to discover as he'll be to share. the walk will be quiet as he tries to pick which songs he'll start with, and in which order he'll allow neil to seduce my senses. see, i've never been a neil young fan. not that i disliked him! in fact i've always hated the song "sweet home alabama" (despite its admittedly killer riff) because it insults neil young in favour of redneck ignorance. (grumble grumble) i've just never really listened to all that much neil. well, since stumbling onto psychedelic sundays, and surely also aided by my shop experiences where neil or neil-esque songs are adoringly crooned, i've discovered a sudden hunger to listen and learn more about this fella. and this is how i would want to do it. ok, back to the fantasy...
we'll sink into his weathered leather sofa (which had been left for dead in some alley 6 years earlier) and light a joint, savouring each delicious huff of haze as though agni himself had come down to pour his holy smoke into our gaping mouths. we'll decant decadent doses of cheap red bulgarian wine into mismatched glasses, and then the music will start. moody then electric, wrenching then fierce, i'll be swept through mountains and valleys of the universe of young. when not mesmerized by the lyrics or chords, he'll tell me about the tree house he and his father built when he was 8. he'll tell me about the long conversation he had about jungian philosophy with an old man in vienna. he'll tell me about jessica phelps, with whom he was desperately in love from grade 3 to grade 10, but who only ever thought of him as a friend. and i'll tell him my little stories of delight or horror. and the hours will melt away smoothly until the dawning street lights and our grumbling stomachs tell us that day has stealthily slipped into night.
we'll trundle into the kitchen to throw wilted beauty queens and starchy soldiers into pots, creating a mess of sustenance. we'll toss snow peas at each other, create warfields littered with utensil corpses and savour our frugal feast over wine and laughter.
oh poo. my lunch hour's moments away from being a memory. best to get back to work... well, it's about as far as i'd gotten anyway...
have a glorious weekend my ducklings! don't do anything i wouldn't do...
i'm lost in a day of blessedly mind-numbed tasks after a beautifully but excruciatingly full week. i've gone out every night this week, and it's been all about theatre. without getting into it too much, cuz that's not what i felt like blathering about, i have seen two really good (dare i say great? yes! great i say, GREAT!) plays. if you're in toronto and are into the theatre thing, i absolutely recommend little dragon at theatre passe muraille and trout stanley at factory theatre. absolutely spectacular.
so back to my brain, fuzzy wuzzy brain. i'm smiling stupidly, glazed-eyed and doe-souled, imagining what i wish i could be doing this sunday.
i'll wake up lazily, deep into the morning. out of respect for my schedule, the sky will have spent the morning showering its onlookers, ready finally to don its sun dress as i awake and open the curtains. as i look out onto the still-shiny streets, i'll almost hear the trees and sky breathing a sigh of relief as they towel themselves off, fresh and awake. i'll glide over to the radio and set it to the Q for some psychedelic sunday action, which i've become a little addicted to. who knew there was a psychedelic rocker lurking deep within me? ok, so it's not that much of a stretch...
after a long hot shower (highlighted by a soulful rendition of Kaen's Shower Favourites - now available on k-tel records), i'll gather some essentials and prepare to meet my friend (who as of yet doesn't actually exist - not this particular friend anyway) at some tiny restaurant. somewhere i don't even know about yet, with walls draped in textured wallpaper and grease and populated by smiling, toothless patrons. we'll eat too much food for too little money, and talk about cognitive liberty and the power of hope. we'll make jokes about pop culture while slurping down thick milkshakes. we'll sink into quiet reverie as we gaze at the lumbering traffic.
bellies distended and minds expanded - however slightly on this slow sunday, we'll stroll over to his place. see, he'll have an extensive neil young music collection that i'll be as anxious to discover as he'll be to share. the walk will be quiet as he tries to pick which songs he'll start with, and in which order he'll allow neil to seduce my senses. see, i've never been a neil young fan. not that i disliked him! in fact i've always hated the song "sweet home alabama" (despite its admittedly killer riff) because it insults neil young in favour of redneck ignorance. (grumble grumble) i've just never really listened to all that much neil. well, since stumbling onto psychedelic sundays, and surely also aided by my shop experiences where neil or neil-esque songs are adoringly crooned, i've discovered a sudden hunger to listen and learn more about this fella. and this is how i would want to do it. ok, back to the fantasy...
we'll sink into his weathered leather sofa (which had been left for dead in some alley 6 years earlier) and light a joint, savouring each delicious huff of haze as though agni himself had come down to pour his holy smoke into our gaping mouths. we'll decant decadent doses of cheap red bulgarian wine into mismatched glasses, and then the music will start. moody then electric, wrenching then fierce, i'll be swept through mountains and valleys of the universe of young. when not mesmerized by the lyrics or chords, he'll tell me about the tree house he and his father built when he was 8. he'll tell me about the long conversation he had about jungian philosophy with an old man in vienna. he'll tell me about jessica phelps, with whom he was desperately in love from grade 3 to grade 10, but who only ever thought of him as a friend. and i'll tell him my little stories of delight or horror. and the hours will melt away smoothly until the dawning street lights and our grumbling stomachs tell us that day has stealthily slipped into night.
we'll trundle into the kitchen to throw wilted beauty queens and starchy soldiers into pots, creating a mess of sustenance. we'll toss snow peas at each other, create warfields littered with utensil corpses and savour our frugal feast over wine and laughter.
oh poo. my lunch hour's moments away from being a memory. best to get back to work... well, it's about as far as i'd gotten anyway...
have a glorious weekend my ducklings! don't do anything i wouldn't do...
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
friends
so i was thinking about that thing that friend of mine said the other day, about that guy i dated however long ago. "nice," he said. "but not enough for you." and i'm thinking, well... who is?? well ok, maybe that one from way back when, but then again we also sort of made each other a "little" (ahem) insane, and very, deeply sad for a long time - so i'm going to have to disqualify him.
so really though, what one person is "enough" for me? or for anyone, for that matter. i mean, i'm sure it's not a unique thing for me, but there are just so many mes to be satiated. really - given how many kaens there are on any given day, how could one person possibly assume the grandiose task of being enough for all of them? hell, i've long since abandoned the fantasy of being somebody else's "everything." it's unrealistic and unhealthy. not to mention slightly perverse and intensely megalomaniacal. shit - i'd need 3 lovers just to get through the week, and at least one more to keep up with me on the weekend!
that's what's so great about friends: you can have more than one. in fact, it's sort of encouraged. you really can have a friend for every mood: one for playing scrabble with, one for talking philosophy with, one for dreaming about running a theatre with, one to drink to stupid excess with (actually, there're kind of a lot of those!), and so on... and friends won't get jealous or upset if you're spending time with other friends. they won't pout or throw a tantrum if they catch you on the phone making plans with another friend.
and you can have so many kinds of people as friends! from old men to young girls, fetishists to special-needs teachers, animators to jazz musicians - they're all there for the taking. they can be as diverse as every facet of your wonderful self. back in van, my favouritest parties were the ones i'd throw that brought all my friends together - a room full of fascinating strangers engaged in animated conversations. it would thrill me beyond belief. and i must admit, i'm looking forward to having a big enough place and a large enough gathering of souls i call friends to get some of that action going on in toronto...
and what's more about friends is they can stick around long enough to really get to know you, without being afraid of "how close you're getting." and they can be reliable and there for you, without feeling pressured or constricted. and if you're really really lucky, they can even be fantastic in bed. in the last year, over two thirds of the sex i enjoyed (and pretty much all the good sex i enjoyed) was with friends - and i'll include exes in that, since they'd moved from the horrific "lover" domain to the lovelier "friend" category long before we actually stopped shagging. (actually, all of last year's exes became "friends-with-benefits." except this recent horror show, of course.)
so here's a great big cheer for all the people i'm happy and lucky enough to call friend. thanks for so fabulously and wonderfully pleasuring the many sides of kaen. : )
so really though, what one person is "enough" for me? or for anyone, for that matter. i mean, i'm sure it's not a unique thing for me, but there are just so many mes to be satiated. really - given how many kaens there are on any given day, how could one person possibly assume the grandiose task of being enough for all of them? hell, i've long since abandoned the fantasy of being somebody else's "everything." it's unrealistic and unhealthy. not to mention slightly perverse and intensely megalomaniacal. shit - i'd need 3 lovers just to get through the week, and at least one more to keep up with me on the weekend!
that's what's so great about friends: you can have more than one. in fact, it's sort of encouraged. you really can have a friend for every mood: one for playing scrabble with, one for talking philosophy with, one for dreaming about running a theatre with, one to drink to stupid excess with (actually, there're kind of a lot of those!), and so on... and friends won't get jealous or upset if you're spending time with other friends. they won't pout or throw a tantrum if they catch you on the phone making plans with another friend.
and you can have so many kinds of people as friends! from old men to young girls, fetishists to special-needs teachers, animators to jazz musicians - they're all there for the taking. they can be as diverse as every facet of your wonderful self. back in van, my favouritest parties were the ones i'd throw that brought all my friends together - a room full of fascinating strangers engaged in animated conversations. it would thrill me beyond belief. and i must admit, i'm looking forward to having a big enough place and a large enough gathering of souls i call friends to get some of that action going on in toronto...
and what's more about friends is they can stick around long enough to really get to know you, without being afraid of "how close you're getting." and they can be reliable and there for you, without feeling pressured or constricted. and if you're really really lucky, they can even be fantastic in bed. in the last year, over two thirds of the sex i enjoyed (and pretty much all the good sex i enjoyed) was with friends - and i'll include exes in that, since they'd moved from the horrific "lover" domain to the lovelier "friend" category long before we actually stopped shagging. (actually, all of last year's exes became "friends-with-benefits." except this recent horror show, of course.)
so here's a great big cheer for all the people i'm happy and lucky enough to call friend. thanks for so fabulously and wonderfully pleasuring the many sides of kaen. : )
nuts
no - not like my brain. nuts like the ones you pop in your mouth, and suck on. heh, how silly. i feel like a grade 5er, giggling in the back of class, talking about sucking nuts.
seriously, this is what i meant to talk about. in an attempt to balance my lack of desire to eat in the morning with a desire to be healthy ("most important meal," i hear beaver's mom chirping) i've brought this nut mix into work. sealed in its sad tupperware, it sits there every morning, begging for some love. unfortunately, i've already pillaged it for the almonds and macademia nuts - now it's just peanuts and some random seeds that are yummy, sure, but too much trouble to sort through to get. oh, and raisins. humiliated grapes, as joon would say. if you've read my profile, you may have guessed how little i care for fruit... (unless it's sexy, like papaya.)
every so often, i go and buy a pack of almonds and toss it into the mix, hoping to rekindle that dying flame with the wallflower peanuts. but i inevitably just end up picking through the mess until i find the almonds.
it must be awfully hard to deal with so much rejection.
poor peanuts.
this completely random glimpse into my morning brought to you by the letter w. as in who gives a fuck. more to come later today, i promise. ooh, i'm just bursting with banality today. (grin)
seriously, this is what i meant to talk about. in an attempt to balance my lack of desire to eat in the morning with a desire to be healthy ("most important meal," i hear beaver's mom chirping) i've brought this nut mix into work. sealed in its sad tupperware, it sits there every morning, begging for some love. unfortunately, i've already pillaged it for the almonds and macademia nuts - now it's just peanuts and some random seeds that are yummy, sure, but too much trouble to sort through to get. oh, and raisins. humiliated grapes, as joon would say. if you've read my profile, you may have guessed how little i care for fruit... (unless it's sexy, like papaya.)
every so often, i go and buy a pack of almonds and toss it into the mix, hoping to rekindle that dying flame with the wallflower peanuts. but i inevitably just end up picking through the mess until i find the almonds.
it must be awfully hard to deal with so much rejection.
poor peanuts.
this completely random glimpse into my morning brought to you by the letter w. as in who gives a fuck. more to come later today, i promise. ooh, i'm just bursting with banality today. (grin)
Monday, January 10, 2005
got plans for wednesday night?
well if you're in toronto, you do now! remember i mentioned the band i saw on new year's eve? well, their name is Michaux Machine and they're playing this wednesday (12th) at the Drake (over there on queen west, a block east of Dufferin.) the music... well, a few bands came to mind as i listened to them, you go ahead and call it what you like.
i thought of beck, soul coughing, the clash. at times they were pop, but like costello-pop, edged with something deeper. what else...? aw man, i knew i should have written it down. there were other styles thrown in with this hipster bad boy stuff, creating a delicious and at times incongruous mass of music. and from that mess of melody, you could just make out the notes whispering their grating, lulling mantra - promising to bend your knees and stroke your soul. Michaux Machine - seriously, check them out.
i thought of beck, soul coughing, the clash. at times they were pop, but like costello-pop, edged with something deeper. what else...? aw man, i knew i should have written it down. there were other styles thrown in with this hipster bad boy stuff, creating a delicious and at times incongruous mass of music. and from that mess of melody, you could just make out the notes whispering their grating, lulling mantra - promising to bend your knees and stroke your soul. Michaux Machine - seriously, check them out.
splendid!
my liver may already be begging for mercy, but i'm in 2005th heaven. what a week it's been! the top 3 highlights (in no particular order):
hearing a friend sing one of my all-time favourite pink floyd songs
i know kelly through friends, and i have to guiltily admit that when i first met her i was a little guarded. sporting big shiny eyes and cute blonde ringlets, the expression "cute as a button" kind of came to mind, and i don't tend to get along well with people who are cute as buttons. well thankfully she's just as fun and kick-ass as she is "cute," and last wednesday she played at the rex and i was sincerely impressed. at one point a few friends and i were headed for the frozen patio to satiate our craving for fine tobacco products when we stopped en masse beside the doors (no words needed to be spoken) and stood transfixed, staring in awe and appreciation as kelly and band performed "nobody home." it was truly mesmerizing.
and as a fun add-on to this highlight, one of the fellas i met was introduced to me as carl.
kaen: oh, with a c?
carl: [happily] yeah actually! most people guess "k."
kaen: well actually, my name's kaen - with a k, and i tend to have a fondness for k names...
carl: why'd you ask "c" then?
kaen: dunno, guess i'm used to disappointment...
all said jovially of course, giggling et al. and we had a great chat after that.
finding googly-eyed buttons for my kick-ass mitts
if i haven't already told you, i knit. and yes, i know knitting is all the rage in milan these days, but i've been knitting for about 9 years. so there! (tongue sticking out and everything.) well, from a pattern i got off the magnificent miranda, i've knitted these funky mitts - a sort of two-in-one thing with the basic part covering half the fingers, and another part to pop over that on the cold days, held on with buttons. well, on friday (which i took as a day off, due to having so little work. yes - after over a week off, i spoiled myself with a 3-day work week and a long weekend. life is hard, eh.), i perused the fabric shops at queen and bathurst and found great buttons for my mitts - two googly eyes and one felix the cat per hand. yay!
celebrating my all-time favouritest drinking buddy
despite the fact that the festivities occured in north york (eek!) i had a blast this past saturday night celebrating the stellar - i mean, truly impressive success of my good friend's cartoon. (<--that means it's a link to his site: check it out. they change the cartoon you can view every so often, and it happens to be on my favourite one right now, so don't delay!) he claims that he can remember fewer of our drunken escapades than i can, but i don't believe him. either way, it was really fabulous to hang out with an old friend who knows me, really knows me. stuff like that helps me to feel grounded. connected. human... and fine-tunes some of the stuff i'd forgotten or remembered wrong - which is always important. or at least, interesting!
i can think of few people who actually deserve success as much as him. and i have to admit that my future success will be thanks in no small way to him. as you may know, earlier last year i completed my first play ever. i'd actually started it about 2 years before that, but had sort of forgotten about it. left it for dead. and then sometime last february, i heard lance's voice in my head, from back when i'd first told him i was writing something: "finish it," he commanded. well, sexy voice reverberating through the ol' catacombs of the brain, i finally listened to his wise words, and finished it. and then another. and now another one's about to be finished. so allow me to extend big beaming thanks to lance for that. and thanks also for being able to drink as dedicatedly and death-defyingly as me (and sometimes even more!). and of course, thanks for the silly grin i sported all day sunday - it was a fun saturday night indeed!
don't be misled by the grin comment though: a day-after-a-night-out-with-lance may be paved with fun and fond memories, but it's also exceedingly slow-moving. i bailed on plans (which i'd wisely kept tentative) to go see the last day of this show at a gallery (pity), and turned down the last-minute invite to a pork roast dinner with new friends. i opted instead for the brain-deadest movies i could think of (yay barbarella, with a special nod to miranda who made the movie as special to me as it is). and... well, it's rather pathetic actually. see for breakfast i had bacon and eggs, and for supper spaghetti. two of the easiest meals in the world to make, right? except that i did take-out for both of 'em. hey - it's not my fault! blame it on lance! (grin)
so yes, 2005 continues to be very kind to me. so intensely am i feeling the positive vibe that i'm actually eating spaghetti (leftovers natch) while wearing a white sweater. tempting the fates? perhaps. but i have high hopes...
hearing a friend sing one of my all-time favourite pink floyd songs
i know kelly through friends, and i have to guiltily admit that when i first met her i was a little guarded. sporting big shiny eyes and cute blonde ringlets, the expression "cute as a button" kind of came to mind, and i don't tend to get along well with people who are cute as buttons. well thankfully she's just as fun and kick-ass as she is "cute," and last wednesday she played at the rex and i was sincerely impressed. at one point a few friends and i were headed for the frozen patio to satiate our craving for fine tobacco products when we stopped en masse beside the doors (no words needed to be spoken) and stood transfixed, staring in awe and appreciation as kelly and band performed "nobody home." it was truly mesmerizing.
and as a fun add-on to this highlight, one of the fellas i met was introduced to me as carl.
kaen: oh, with a c?
carl: [happily] yeah actually! most people guess "k."
kaen: well actually, my name's kaen - with a k, and i tend to have a fondness for k names...
carl: why'd you ask "c" then?
kaen: dunno, guess i'm used to disappointment...
all said jovially of course, giggling et al. and we had a great chat after that.
finding googly-eyed buttons for my kick-ass mitts
if i haven't already told you, i knit. and yes, i know knitting is all the rage in milan these days, but i've been knitting for about 9 years. so there! (tongue sticking out and everything.) well, from a pattern i got off the magnificent miranda, i've knitted these funky mitts - a sort of two-in-one thing with the basic part covering half the fingers, and another part to pop over that on the cold days, held on with buttons. well, on friday (which i took as a day off, due to having so little work. yes - after over a week off, i spoiled myself with a 3-day work week and a long weekend. life is hard, eh.), i perused the fabric shops at queen and bathurst and found great buttons for my mitts - two googly eyes and one felix the cat per hand. yay!
celebrating my all-time favouritest drinking buddy
despite the fact that the festivities occured in north york (eek!) i had a blast this past saturday night celebrating the stellar - i mean, truly impressive success of my good friend's cartoon. (<--that means it's a link to his site: check it out. they change the cartoon you can view every so often, and it happens to be on my favourite one right now, so don't delay!) he claims that he can remember fewer of our drunken escapades than i can, but i don't believe him. either way, it was really fabulous to hang out with an old friend who knows me, really knows me. stuff like that helps me to feel grounded. connected. human... and fine-tunes some of the stuff i'd forgotten or remembered wrong - which is always important. or at least, interesting!
i can think of few people who actually deserve success as much as him. and i have to admit that my future success will be thanks in no small way to him. as you may know, earlier last year i completed my first play ever. i'd actually started it about 2 years before that, but had sort of forgotten about it. left it for dead. and then sometime last february, i heard lance's voice in my head, from back when i'd first told him i was writing something: "finish it," he commanded. well, sexy voice reverberating through the ol' catacombs of the brain, i finally listened to his wise words, and finished it. and then another. and now another one's about to be finished. so allow me to extend big beaming thanks to lance for that. and thanks also for being able to drink as dedicatedly and death-defyingly as me (and sometimes even more!). and of course, thanks for the silly grin i sported all day sunday - it was a fun saturday night indeed!
don't be misled by the grin comment though: a day-after-a-night-out-with-lance may be paved with fun and fond memories, but it's also exceedingly slow-moving. i bailed on plans (which i'd wisely kept tentative) to go see the last day of this show at a gallery (pity), and turned down the last-minute invite to a pork roast dinner with new friends. i opted instead for the brain-deadest movies i could think of (yay barbarella, with a special nod to miranda who made the movie as special to me as it is). and... well, it's rather pathetic actually. see for breakfast i had bacon and eggs, and for supper spaghetti. two of the easiest meals in the world to make, right? except that i did take-out for both of 'em. hey - it's not my fault! blame it on lance! (grin)
so yes, 2005 continues to be very kind to me. so intensely am i feeling the positive vibe that i'm actually eating spaghetti (leftovers natch) while wearing a white sweater. tempting the fates? perhaps. but i have high hopes...
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
ahh, vancouver!
first, a quick journey-over story.
on the flight over, i found myself painfully squeezed in beside a new parental unit and their under-trained, over-coddled new little person. i stifled the sigh and prepared for the worst. don't misunderstand me: it's not that i necessarily dislike breeders and their oozing offspring. i myself have been almost lured into the trap of inflicting life on another being. but boy, do i have a distaste for the breeders who think the world should stop and bow low, because they were cruel or ignorant enough to introduce another miserable life into this thankless, overpopulated world. and they were unmistakably of this ilk.
for instance, they lugged on a carry-on bigger than the bag i brought for 2 weeks of summer camp as an insecure, over-compensatingly superficial teen. they had to split their bag 3 times before it could all be squeezed into the precious pre-xmas overhead compartments. and they asked me for the window seat i gleefully secured hours before check-in. you know, that kind of bullshit.
as i sat flipping through my terribly trendy magazine (i never read mags, but suspecting i would be getting books from santa, i found myself literature-less and so purchased "new york" - not to be confused with "new yorker." interesting articles, cleverly written. meh.) the breeder-chick leaned over my shoulder, perhaps attempting to sample a bit of the young urban hipster vibe? what the hell do i know. while this shoulder-reading thing has never bothered me (i'm more than happy to share the stuff i read with the world, they're reading too little of it as it is), i did muse over the number of people who would have been seriously irritated. well, in honour of all those people, imagine my secret glee when i flipped the page and the article was something to the effect of "Why We Hate Breeders Who Think The World Should Stop For Them."
heh... it's the little things.
___
and then vancouver...
well, let me just say how nice it was to be back. sure, i was there on tuesday and wednesday nights and most of my friends had to work. and sure i was a little more quiet and bruised than exuberant and sunny. and sure the parties ended earlier than later. and yea, a bunch of people were off doing their own family thing in provinces far far away. (ok, saskatchewan. they were all in saskatchewan!!) but it didn't diminish the fabulousness of it all! it was such a joy to see the intimates again...
i remember sitting there at one point, marvelling over these fantastic people i've been honoured to share the last few years of my soul with. i marvelled mostly over how fucking smart they are. is it a vancouver-thing, or did i just surround myself with stunningly brilliant people? even the flavour of the humour was different. like this one snippet...
my friend kristen (who may i just say as an aside lives RIGHT BESIDE callum keith rennie. RIGHT BESIDE HIM!! i'm trapped beside a colicky newborn, and she gets the man of my fucking dirtiest, adoringest fantasies. fawk, how lucky is she. sigh. ok, back on topic) was talking, and used the word "procreate." this is what ensued, a myriad of clever voices adding their bit.
"procreate!" i suddenly exclaim, "i like that! i use breeder, but it seems lately people kinda get their backs up when i say that..."
"that's cuz the people you know are breeding..."
"yea i guess so.."
"it's so canine!"
"canine?"
"yeah, "breeding." it makes me think of dogs."
"oh yea, i see what you mean."
"canine... asinine..."
"nein!" she interjects! "just say nein!"
rhymes! foreign languages! disregard for breeders! it had it all!! (hee hee) and note this all happened in the space of about 7 seconds, voices overlapping in their mirth and cleverness.
another favourite snippet happened a little earlier. lost in the tiresome riddle of my thoughts, i slumped in my chair and muttered: "i hate my brain!" quick as ever, greg chimed in "is that why you abuse it so much?"
they know me so well, bless their shiny fucking hearts. (grin)
so yea, that was vancouver. witty comebacks, clever conversations, scrabble and birthday cake for breakfast with miranda and karen (since they won't be here for my real birthday in may.. ahem), fancy morsels with ken at 'subeez' (where i once saw callum keith rennie studying a script, incidentally...), talkin blog with steph, busting a move (veins filled with $2.75 booze - gawd bless the backstage lounge) with kal and sid, and a hundred scrawled "you should read this book" or "see this movie" notes. gawd i love those people.
yep: it was nice to be back... : )
___
p.s. rereading this post, i though it necessary to add that i actually do love breeders. i mean procreaters. and their adorable offspring. thank gawd for them, bless them forever, and may they procreate unfettered for eons and eons and eons to come. bring it on! really! yay procreaters, yay yay yay! more babies! more babies! nothing could make me happier than a basketful of fresh babies delivered to my doorstep every morning. oh lovely babies, yay yay yay!
so no hate mail please. (grin)
on the flight over, i found myself painfully squeezed in beside a new parental unit and their under-trained, over-coddled new little person. i stifled the sigh and prepared for the worst. don't misunderstand me: it's not that i necessarily dislike breeders and their oozing offspring. i myself have been almost lured into the trap of inflicting life on another being. but boy, do i have a distaste for the breeders who think the world should stop and bow low, because they were cruel or ignorant enough to introduce another miserable life into this thankless, overpopulated world. and they were unmistakably of this ilk.
for instance, they lugged on a carry-on bigger than the bag i brought for 2 weeks of summer camp as an insecure, over-compensatingly superficial teen. they had to split their bag 3 times before it could all be squeezed into the precious pre-xmas overhead compartments. and they asked me for the window seat i gleefully secured hours before check-in. you know, that kind of bullshit.
as i sat flipping through my terribly trendy magazine (i never read mags, but suspecting i would be getting books from santa, i found myself literature-less and so purchased "new york" - not to be confused with "new yorker." interesting articles, cleverly written. meh.) the breeder-chick leaned over my shoulder, perhaps attempting to sample a bit of the young urban hipster vibe? what the hell do i know. while this shoulder-reading thing has never bothered me (i'm more than happy to share the stuff i read with the world, they're reading too little of it as it is), i did muse over the number of people who would have been seriously irritated. well, in honour of all those people, imagine my secret glee when i flipped the page and the article was something to the effect of "Why We Hate Breeders Who Think The World Should Stop For Them."
heh... it's the little things.
___
and then vancouver...
well, let me just say how nice it was to be back. sure, i was there on tuesday and wednesday nights and most of my friends had to work. and sure i was a little more quiet and bruised than exuberant and sunny. and sure the parties ended earlier than later. and yea, a bunch of people were off doing their own family thing in provinces far far away. (ok, saskatchewan. they were all in saskatchewan!!) but it didn't diminish the fabulousness of it all! it was such a joy to see the intimates again...
i remember sitting there at one point, marvelling over these fantastic people i've been honoured to share the last few years of my soul with. i marvelled mostly over how fucking smart they are. is it a vancouver-thing, or did i just surround myself with stunningly brilliant people? even the flavour of the humour was different. like this one snippet...
my friend kristen (who may i just say as an aside lives RIGHT BESIDE callum keith rennie. RIGHT BESIDE HIM!! i'm trapped beside a colicky newborn, and she gets the man of my fucking dirtiest, adoringest fantasies. fawk, how lucky is she. sigh. ok, back on topic) was talking, and used the word "procreate." this is what ensued, a myriad of clever voices adding their bit.
"procreate!" i suddenly exclaim, "i like that! i use breeder, but it seems lately people kinda get their backs up when i say that..."
"that's cuz the people you know are breeding..."
"yea i guess so.."
"it's so canine!"
"canine?"
"yeah, "breeding." it makes me think of dogs."
"oh yea, i see what you mean."
"canine... asinine..."
"nein!" she interjects! "just say nein!"
rhymes! foreign languages! disregard for breeders! it had it all!! (hee hee) and note this all happened in the space of about 7 seconds, voices overlapping in their mirth and cleverness.
another favourite snippet happened a little earlier. lost in the tiresome riddle of my thoughts, i slumped in my chair and muttered: "i hate my brain!" quick as ever, greg chimed in "is that why you abuse it so much?"
they know me so well, bless their shiny fucking hearts. (grin)
so yea, that was vancouver. witty comebacks, clever conversations, scrabble and birthday cake for breakfast with miranda and karen (since they won't be here for my real birthday in may.. ahem), fancy morsels with ken at 'subeez' (where i once saw callum keith rennie studying a script, incidentally...), talkin blog with steph, busting a move (veins filled with $2.75 booze - gawd bless the backstage lounge) with kal and sid, and a hundred scrawled "you should read this book" or "see this movie" notes. gawd i love those people.
yep: it was nice to be back... : )
___
p.s. rereading this post, i though it necessary to add that i actually do love breeders. i mean procreaters. and their adorable offspring. thank gawd for them, bless them forever, and may they procreate unfettered for eons and eons and eons to come. bring it on! really! yay procreaters, yay yay yay! more babies! more babies! nothing could make me happier than a basketful of fresh babies delivered to my doorstep every morning. oh lovely babies, yay yay yay!
so no hate mail please. (grin)
Sunday, December 26, 2004
yesterday
...all my troubles seemed so far away.
ok, first of all - i know i keep falling back on songs to express myself which sure, is cheesy as all fuck, but it's just the way my brain works. shogenai.
so anyway, yesterday was brilliant. absolutely perfect.
early in the morning, roused by the time zone shift and good old-fashioned xmas morning excitement, i awoke and stoked the fire whispering and slumbering in the fireplace at the foot of my hide-a-bed. i then spent the day as self-designated keeper of the fire. i don't think i'm a pyro, but i love tending to fires. the art of keeping the flames dancing slowly and steadily (no need for the kind of bonfire that may impress but will also make all the guests sweat, ick), without resorting to my father's barbaric kerosene or logs-wrapped-in-paper/firestarter-for-idiots things just really, really appeals to me. so every so often throughout the day, i moseyed over to stick my proverbial hand in the fire and make warmth for my family. nice.
late in the afternoon i sat at my parents' cro-magnon computer conveying thoughts to my silent audience when my sister and family arrived. it was so fucking nice to hear, immediately upon entry, my nephew Jake's voice calling out "where's auntie kaen?" (insert big fucking grin here.) and as a side note, allow me to share how much i just love those two words together, the sweet innocence of "auntie" with the badass funkster "kaen" is pure poetry to me. hm, i wonder if i should start getting people to call me that!? heh.
feeling sore and sated around the carcass-littered table, we talked about.. oh, all kinds of things. the kind of family banter that not once slipped into bitterness or unforgotten trespasses (thank fuck!), but frolicked in anecdotes and memories. my sister was talking about Jake's letter to santa, proudly beaming that he'd included what she wanted. he is, indeed, a very sweet kid - even if he does insist on doing his hair like my dad's (crew cut), poor duckling. ah well, it's sweet i guess that he idolizes his grandfather. (incidentally, my younger nephew Dylan is also great, very sweet and cute). i turned to my mom, "what were my letters to santa like?" "well actually," she replied, "this one time your father had one of your letters published in the bank's newsletter [my dad was a bank manager most of my life]. it spoke about caring for homeless and giving to those less fortunate." i'm so happy i was a sweet kid too. (grin)
later that night, somehow still conscious after the turkey and excitement, my mom and i settled in to watch her all-time favourite movie: gone with the wind. (well, my dad joined too - meaning he snored quietly in his chair as we watched scarlett, rhett and ashley forge their brave new world.) i gotta admit to having a special fondness for that movie myself. surely that's the result of having watched it over 20 times in my life, courtesy of my mom (though i have been known to watch it alone if the opportunity presents itself). but i also love rhett, and scarlett a bit too. it's weird, i can't stand catherine and heathcliff, thinking they're spoiled assholes who deserve everything they get, but there's something about scarlett o'hara that just speaks to deep, secret parts of me. and rhett, well! i remember the first time i did acid. well... acid. having since gotten well and high on proper acid, i'm inclined to think i was sucking on someone's torn textbook but i was 12, whaddya gonna do. what i can say is that we were all high, not on lsd but on the freedom to do anything we wanted under the guise of being high. it was a fun night. at one point, i cornered a friend and made her recite scarlett's responses as i played rhett in one of my favourite scenes of the movie, the proposal scene. i was a weird kid..
and now it's 8:30. my bed's folded, my body showered and dressed and my thoughts recorded. a whole day stretches before me. i think it may involve a bit of boxing day shopping. (i got some cash that i'm desperate to spend on electronics - either a discman or a dvd player, how exciting!) we'll also be going to my dad's colleague's party, that might be interesting. funnily, my mom excitedly told him that "her baby" would be coming. "oh great!" he replied, "my granddaughter will be there too!" "um mark," my mom laughingly responded, "my baby's 30." "oh, well that's ok too." hee hee. and finally my parents live on the bank of a raging mini-river and park that i'm dying to explore. right now, i wish so desperately Bogey the Wonderdawg was still here, he'd love to explore it with me. (oopsies, go away moist eyes!)
for now, as i wait for the parentals to rouse themselves from their cosy slumber, i'm gonna go have some juice and try to remember that hottie i was lapdancing for in my dream last night. YUM! happy boxing day, all!
ok, first of all - i know i keep falling back on songs to express myself which sure, is cheesy as all fuck, but it's just the way my brain works. shogenai.
so anyway, yesterday was brilliant. absolutely perfect.
early in the morning, roused by the time zone shift and good old-fashioned xmas morning excitement, i awoke and stoked the fire whispering and slumbering in the fireplace at the foot of my hide-a-bed. i then spent the day as self-designated keeper of the fire. i don't think i'm a pyro, but i love tending to fires. the art of keeping the flames dancing slowly and steadily (no need for the kind of bonfire that may impress but will also make all the guests sweat, ick), without resorting to my father's barbaric kerosene or logs-wrapped-in-paper/firestarter-for-idiots things just really, really appeals to me. so every so often throughout the day, i moseyed over to stick my proverbial hand in the fire and make warmth for my family. nice.
late in the afternoon i sat at my parents' cro-magnon computer conveying thoughts to my silent audience when my sister and family arrived. it was so fucking nice to hear, immediately upon entry, my nephew Jake's voice calling out "where's auntie kaen?" (insert big fucking grin here.) and as a side note, allow me to share how much i just love those two words together, the sweet innocence of "auntie" with the badass funkster "kaen" is pure poetry to me. hm, i wonder if i should start getting people to call me that!? heh.
feeling sore and sated around the carcass-littered table, we talked about.. oh, all kinds of things. the kind of family banter that not once slipped into bitterness or unforgotten trespasses (thank fuck!), but frolicked in anecdotes and memories. my sister was talking about Jake's letter to santa, proudly beaming that he'd included what she wanted. he is, indeed, a very sweet kid - even if he does insist on doing his hair like my dad's (crew cut), poor duckling. ah well, it's sweet i guess that he idolizes his grandfather. (incidentally, my younger nephew Dylan is also great, very sweet and cute). i turned to my mom, "what were my letters to santa like?" "well actually," she replied, "this one time your father had one of your letters published in the bank's newsletter [my dad was a bank manager most of my life]. it spoke about caring for homeless and giving to those less fortunate." i'm so happy i was a sweet kid too. (grin)
later that night, somehow still conscious after the turkey and excitement, my mom and i settled in to watch her all-time favourite movie: gone with the wind. (well, my dad joined too - meaning he snored quietly in his chair as we watched scarlett, rhett and ashley forge their brave new world.) i gotta admit to having a special fondness for that movie myself. surely that's the result of having watched it over 20 times in my life, courtesy of my mom (though i have been known to watch it alone if the opportunity presents itself). but i also love rhett, and scarlett a bit too. it's weird, i can't stand catherine and heathcliff, thinking they're spoiled assholes who deserve everything they get, but there's something about scarlett o'hara that just speaks to deep, secret parts of me. and rhett, well! i remember the first time i did acid. well... acid. having since gotten well and high on proper acid, i'm inclined to think i was sucking on someone's torn textbook but i was 12, whaddya gonna do. what i can say is that we were all high, not on lsd but on the freedom to do anything we wanted under the guise of being high. it was a fun night. at one point, i cornered a friend and made her recite scarlett's responses as i played rhett in one of my favourite scenes of the movie, the proposal scene. i was a weird kid..
and now it's 8:30. my bed's folded, my body showered and dressed and my thoughts recorded. a whole day stretches before me. i think it may involve a bit of boxing day shopping. (i got some cash that i'm desperate to spend on electronics - either a discman or a dvd player, how exciting!) we'll also be going to my dad's colleague's party, that might be interesting. funnily, my mom excitedly told him that "her baby" would be coming. "oh great!" he replied, "my granddaughter will be there too!" "um mark," my mom laughingly responded, "my baby's 30." "oh, well that's ok too." hee hee. and finally my parents live on the bank of a raging mini-river and park that i'm dying to explore. right now, i wish so desperately Bogey the Wonderdawg was still here, he'd love to explore it with me. (oopsies, go away moist eyes!)
for now, as i wait for the parentals to rouse themselves from their cosy slumber, i'm gonna go have some juice and try to remember that hottie i was lapdancing for in my dream last night. YUM! happy boxing day, all!
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