what a sweet time i've been having. as mentioned a few posts back, shortly after arriving back in vancouver i found a really great job. if you go to this website: katkam.ca, you can see where i spent the last days of summer. just past the beautiful Burrard Bridge, to the upper right of the photo, you'll see Vanier Park. in that vast, sweeping green glory, up til last wednesday, stood the tents of the Bard on the Beach festival.
what a beautiful place to spend my days! how many times did my breath catch as i beheld the bright blue of the ocean framed by lush green grass and majestic mountains? i got to spend the last weeks of summer working in a park where people go to fly kites and share picnics.
for three weeks, i worked as production assistant. it was great work! essentially the site's “caretaker,” i strolled the gorgeous grounds and even got the use a skill saw on several occasions. yea, power tools!!! and of course, what a thrill to be earning my keep in theatre. shakespeare may be a stretch from the indie theatre i tend to call home, but it's still theatre! wigs, costumes and props. stages and lights. and that sense of family. stalwart stage managers, wise-quipping actors and techies who can talk for hours about the finer points of control boards. and ghosts, of course.
AND I WON AT POKER, outwitting and outbidding a dozen other texas hold'em hopefuls. it was glorious!! also noteworthy was the pitch in putt in stanley park, a “sport” i do not excel at.. but i had a ridiculous amount of fun and between the smiles and chat, i could not stop from gasping in admiring pleasure at vancouver's most majestic park's endless wonders.
as if that wasn't enough, each shift was bookended by a bike ride from commercial drive (where i'd been living) down to the seaside bike trail. weaving through sunday strollers and smartly dressed joggers, taking in all the sweeping beauty. i can't tell you how many times i caught myself breathing, almost reverentially: “it's so beautiful!!!!!”
when the run came to and end, i worked on the crew, pulling down tents and pulling up floors. as back in may with kids fest, i loved the work: chortling with the other crew members and feeling my limbs whirr and purr in action. unlike kids fest, i had spent almost two months instead of only two weeks in that world; it made it just that little bit harder to let go. each fallen tent was a mild torture, a reminder that this exquisite experience was finite. on the first day, one of the actresses came into the tent she'd been performing in. she gasped, seeing the seats all gone and the stage up in splinters. it already looked so barren, and i could feel her trying to grasp onto something intangible. something that now lived only, ever, in memories.
after three weeks, it was over. the last tent had fallen and finally, i had a day off. i was slow and lethargic, hardly moving, hardly thinking. just barely being. a drastic change from the activity of the last weeks. it felt kinda like a sugar crash. that sweet sickly feeling that leaves you bloated and sleepy.
but smiling. for oh, how sweet it was...
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
zing a ding ding
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
alive and kicking
i've been getting a lot of comments and emails from friends and "fans" asking me what the hell is up. i know it's been aeons since i've posted, and i'm sorry! i'm even sorrier to say: no end in sight!
i've spent the last 2 months or so in work or play that brings me far from computers. either because of time or location, i just have very very limited access to computers. like now, i'm exiled in small-town nowhere writing up storms of poetry and plays. i gotta tell you, it's pretty exciting and i feel blessed to be able to devote a few months to nothing but writing (except for one contract job next month that will bring me to the only province i haven't been to: newfoundland! i can't wait!!!) but i digress... basically, all my creative energy seems to be devoted to works larger than this blog has ever strived to be.
but most significantly perhaps, i've been bored for months of the blah blah, here's what i did today posts. this is nothing new to most of my readers... but add to it that if i did that now, the posts would basically be:
- went to one of a handful of restaurants for brunch
- went back to the room/to the park to write
- went to one of a handful of restaurants for supper
- went back to the room to write
- went to bed
ok, i'm oversimplying. i am meeting people, living fun and enriching experiences...
but...
well, there's other stuff too... small, but that weigh on me and contribute to a general lack of inspiration when it comes to posting. one is that i feel irritated that i should be completely shut out from someone's life, yet somehow they get to keep reading about what i'm doing. there's something about the blatant unfairness that really irks me. and i think a part of me is still reeling from that psycho-bitch's flurry of attacks against me. yes, she was a ridiculous, small-minded idiot. but it still fucking hurt and why should i want to open myself up to that??
i don't know, i really don't...
but i promise you, if i come up with any inspiration to make this blog interesting again - to you, but mostly to me, i will post... um... post haste.
until then, have a gorgeous summer!!
k)
i've spent the last 2 months or so in work or play that brings me far from computers. either because of time or location, i just have very very limited access to computers. like now, i'm exiled in small-town nowhere writing up storms of poetry and plays. i gotta tell you, it's pretty exciting and i feel blessed to be able to devote a few months to nothing but writing (except for one contract job next month that will bring me to the only province i haven't been to: newfoundland! i can't wait!!!) but i digress... basically, all my creative energy seems to be devoted to works larger than this blog has ever strived to be.
but most significantly perhaps, i've been bored for months of the blah blah, here's what i did today posts. this is nothing new to most of my readers... but add to it that if i did that now, the posts would basically be:
- went to one of a handful of restaurants for brunch
- went back to the room/to the park to write
- went to one of a handful of restaurants for supper
- went back to the room to write
- went to bed
ok, i'm oversimplying. i am meeting people, living fun and enriching experiences...
but...
well, there's other stuff too... small, but that weigh on me and contribute to a general lack of inspiration when it comes to posting. one is that i feel irritated that i should be completely shut out from someone's life, yet somehow they get to keep reading about what i'm doing. there's something about the blatant unfairness that really irks me. and i think a part of me is still reeling from that psycho-bitch's flurry of attacks against me. yes, she was a ridiculous, small-minded idiot. but it still fucking hurt and why should i want to open myself up to that??
i don't know, i really don't...
but i promise you, if i come up with any inspiration to make this blog interesting again - to you, but mostly to me, i will post... um... post haste.
until then, have a gorgeous summer!!
k)
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
home sweet home
well, here i am. in vancouver at last. for real this time! or well.. for a month anyway.
it's almost hard to wrap my brain around the fact, the reality that i'm here, actually really here.
my last bit of time in toronto was quiet. i spent much of it alone. in a way, you could say i had retreated to lick my freshest wounds after yet another sad sorry failed love. but it wasn't quite that... there was a quietness. a sense of mourning without the gnashing-teeth, torn-shirt, i'll never love/be loved again melodramatic bullshit. it was slower. softer. like the hushed quietness of a funeral. it was a time of sacred silent sorrow, a respite after the loud, crashing months that preceded it. it was a time to be quiet, and to say goodbye to a beautiful man that i loved very much - the hottest man i have ever loved, and the best kisser i've ever known. it was a time to relearn experiencing great moments and not sharing them with him. a time to relearn mornings that didn't start with a "good morning my love" email. a time to fall asleep without his sweet, perfect kiss; without his glowing warmth beside me.
and slowly, eventually, i woke up to the fact that oh my god, i had so little toronto time left!!!
so i bought a molehill of multi-coloured, knee-high socks. i treated my tastebuds to my first zabaglione, with some incredible italian not-quite-ice-wine, not-quite-port digestif. i cycled the beaches with bright, shining friends. i went to massey hall for the first time (funnily because i'd managed to.. um.. procure them - and by them i mean a band i grew up knowing and liking well enough - some... ah... road necessities). i saw ronnie burkett's newest puppet magic. with the help of fabulous friends, i belly-laughed my way through hours of a futurama marathon. i drank expensive wine and savoured fine french cuisine with my favourite hunter. i washed away martinis with boothfuls of well-wishing friends at an all-night cafe.
and now i'm in vancouver. and oh, my first day back... yesterday was GREAT. everything is so green and lush, canopied with white and pink blossoms, erupting with loud tulips. there was colour everywhere and the air was thick with the smell of living things. everthing was beautiful: the air, the trees, the flowers, the smiles, the men...
and then i got to enjoy some mind-blowingly good sushi at a table crammed with smiling friends. as i told them, i think this gypsy has learned an important lesson about friendship. wherever my travels may take me in this big ol' exciting world, my heart is forever bound to vancouver. well.. until my friends move away, i guess. i love these people and oh - to be among they who know and love me. they, who support me and my hare-brained ideas. they, who will playfully yet forcefully argue the semantics of "jock" vs. "outdoorsy". they, who will remember the things i don't, and dilligently and patiently remind me of them. they, who want to inspire and encourage me. they, who will gently chide my low self-esteem. they who know my silly cycles and love me "anyway". just as i love them.
it's nice to be home.
it's almost hard to wrap my brain around the fact, the reality that i'm here, actually really here.
my last bit of time in toronto was quiet. i spent much of it alone. in a way, you could say i had retreated to lick my freshest wounds after yet another sad sorry failed love. but it wasn't quite that... there was a quietness. a sense of mourning without the gnashing-teeth, torn-shirt, i'll never love/be loved again melodramatic bullshit. it was slower. softer. like the hushed quietness of a funeral. it was a time of sacred silent sorrow, a respite after the loud, crashing months that preceded it. it was a time to be quiet, and to say goodbye to a beautiful man that i loved very much - the hottest man i have ever loved, and the best kisser i've ever known. it was a time to relearn experiencing great moments and not sharing them with him. a time to relearn mornings that didn't start with a "good morning my love" email. a time to fall asleep without his sweet, perfect kiss; without his glowing warmth beside me.
and slowly, eventually, i woke up to the fact that oh my god, i had so little toronto time left!!!
so i bought a molehill of multi-coloured, knee-high socks. i treated my tastebuds to my first zabaglione, with some incredible italian not-quite-ice-wine, not-quite-port digestif. i cycled the beaches with bright, shining friends. i went to massey hall for the first time (funnily because i'd managed to.. um.. procure them - and by them i mean a band i grew up knowing and liking well enough - some... ah... road necessities). i saw ronnie burkett's newest puppet magic. with the help of fabulous friends, i belly-laughed my way through hours of a futurama marathon. i drank expensive wine and savoured fine french cuisine with my favourite hunter. i washed away martinis with boothfuls of well-wishing friends at an all-night cafe.
and now i'm in vancouver. and oh, my first day back... yesterday was GREAT. everything is so green and lush, canopied with white and pink blossoms, erupting with loud tulips. there was colour everywhere and the air was thick with the smell of living things. everthing was beautiful: the air, the trees, the flowers, the smiles, the men...
and then i got to enjoy some mind-blowingly good sushi at a table crammed with smiling friends. as i told them, i think this gypsy has learned an important lesson about friendship. wherever my travels may take me in this big ol' exciting world, my heart is forever bound to vancouver. well.. until my friends move away, i guess. i love these people and oh - to be among they who know and love me. they, who support me and my hare-brained ideas. they, who will playfully yet forcefully argue the semantics of "jock" vs. "outdoorsy". they, who will remember the things i don't, and dilligently and patiently remind me of them. they, who want to inspire and encourage me. they, who will gently chide my low self-esteem. they who know my silly cycles and love me "anyway". just as i love them.
it's nice to be home.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
transit is the opiate of the masses
it's mayhem
it's a marrakesh market
it's the first time free citizens go to polls
it's studio 54 at 2 am
it's a boy's first overeager orgasm
it's rush hour in toronto.
i usually ride my bike: bright fake flowers nerdishly woven into a basket guiding the path for a slow-pedalling, flower-sniffing flake. this transit stuff is like safari to me. i usually confront it with bemused delight or in a slim-grinned daze. but when a friend's fervent argument perked my eyes and ears, well wow - the shit that goes on!
we queue:
quanine convelescents
pining for the drug cart.
the air is thick
with the slow-minded
sedated
sociopathism
of 9 to 5ers
at 5:23
but when the bus dodders in, the hive comes alive and the air becomes stained with a frantic desperation. shoulders are squared and elbows enflare as the mighty congregation pushes toward the light. my friend is jostled from me, and shoots me a disparaged look. i sigh and lean back into the throng, letting the frenzied squeeze themselves into their salvation. by the time i am pinballed into the bus, my friend and i are decades apart. i crane my neck, hoping to reassure her with a smile: i am here, i am alive!
and the bus dodders forward.
the bus is thick with humans. i have a moment to reflect, and reimagine the mayhem. i imagine myself as knightess in shining armour, crying out my friend's disgruntled dismay. the clouds part and gleam on me as i exclaim: what are you, a bunch of fucking barbarians? i mean, *what* is with the shoving? there is a fleshy mass before me, as solid as it needs to be to prevent me from moving forward, no matter how hard you push. and the butting-in business? if you're so fucking frantic to get a seat for those 7 blocks that separate you from your couch, wait for the next goddamned bus - oh look, there it is, pulling in right now.
i chuckled to myself, head bent coyly, as i imagined my archangelic ranting. and then i peeked left, i peeked right. i saw a young man, a boy, a yoot. scruffy thing. the first time he helped out a struggling traveller, it was sweet. the second time, it was downright exultant. and then, when some young girl singsonged: "this sure is a busy bus," well by golly, i reckon it was just about the sweetest bus ride this side of the rainbow.
ok, i got carried away with that last line and it sounds facetious, but i actually pretty much mean it. ...dang gummit!
as we emerged, sucking in my friend's inner-suburban-galaxy-far-far-away's sweet, sweet air, i thought: perhaps i'll sway her cynicism. help this sisyphus find something to savour of her daily grind. i asked her: "so, what was your favourite moment of the transit ride?"
"when this guy made the guy who was hogging two seats have to shift over so he could sit."
well ok sure, i can see that. i hate those fucking seat hoggers. and i laughed, "i thought maybe you'd say the girl, or..." and she laughed and we laughed and she'd actually been sitting near the girl and told me all her cute ramblings despite her sad, hippie name. and i thought you know what, we all find our zen where we can.
cheers to you, sister!
it's a marrakesh market
it's the first time free citizens go to polls
it's studio 54 at 2 am
it's a boy's first overeager orgasm
it's rush hour in toronto.
i usually ride my bike: bright fake flowers nerdishly woven into a basket guiding the path for a slow-pedalling, flower-sniffing flake. this transit stuff is like safari to me. i usually confront it with bemused delight or in a slim-grinned daze. but when a friend's fervent argument perked my eyes and ears, well wow - the shit that goes on!
we queue:
quanine convelescents
pining for the drug cart.
the air is thick
with the slow-minded
sedated
sociopathism
of 9 to 5ers
at 5:23
but when the bus dodders in, the hive comes alive and the air becomes stained with a frantic desperation. shoulders are squared and elbows enflare as the mighty congregation pushes toward the light. my friend is jostled from me, and shoots me a disparaged look. i sigh and lean back into the throng, letting the frenzied squeeze themselves into their salvation. by the time i am pinballed into the bus, my friend and i are decades apart. i crane my neck, hoping to reassure her with a smile: i am here, i am alive!
and the bus dodders forward.
the bus is thick with humans. i have a moment to reflect, and reimagine the mayhem. i imagine myself as knightess in shining armour, crying out my friend's disgruntled dismay. the clouds part and gleam on me as i exclaim: what are you, a bunch of fucking barbarians? i mean, *what* is with the shoving? there is a fleshy mass before me, as solid as it needs to be to prevent me from moving forward, no matter how hard you push. and the butting-in business? if you're so fucking frantic to get a seat for those 7 blocks that separate you from your couch, wait for the next goddamned bus - oh look, there it is, pulling in right now.
i chuckled to myself, head bent coyly, as i imagined my archangelic ranting. and then i peeked left, i peeked right. i saw a young man, a boy, a yoot. scruffy thing. the first time he helped out a struggling traveller, it was sweet. the second time, it was downright exultant. and then, when some young girl singsonged: "this sure is a busy bus," well by golly, i reckon it was just about the sweetest bus ride this side of the rainbow.
ok, i got carried away with that last line and it sounds facetious, but i actually pretty much mean it. ...dang gummit!
as we emerged, sucking in my friend's inner-suburban-galaxy-far-far-away's sweet, sweet air, i thought: perhaps i'll sway her cynicism. help this sisyphus find something to savour of her daily grind. i asked her: "so, what was your favourite moment of the transit ride?"
"when this guy made the guy who was hogging two seats have to shift over so he could sit."
well ok sure, i can see that. i hate those fucking seat hoggers. and i laughed, "i thought maybe you'd say the girl, or..." and she laughed and we laughed and she'd actually been sitting near the girl and told me all her cute ramblings despite her sad, hippie name. and i thought you know what, we all find our zen where we can.
cheers to you, sister!
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Sunparlour Players
so last night i headed on down to the Tranzac to see the Sunparlour Players, and enjoy some of the best free music this side of the french quarter. if you haven't had a chance to savour the Sunparlour Players yet, that would explain that hollowness you sometimes feel in your gut on those cold, lonely mornings.
the Sunparlour Players (a.k.a. Andrew Penner and Mark Schachowskoy) are like gospel with all of the thumping and none of the bible. they’re a glass of mint julep served by a pixie in a hickory-smoked arcade. they’re fried chicken served on a quilt of patchwork pin-up girls, spread out on blue grass under an orange sky. they’re a train teeming with painted ladies and boozy bearded blackjackers, careening, speeding, charging charging through a prairie sunset. they're hungry sex on a hot afternoon in a summer field buzzing with cicadas. they're that scene in pulp fiction where uma thurman gets an adrenaline shot right to the heart.
or as my friend glowingly said, "they're like hillbilly punk!"
they're intense, they're fun, they're powerful, they're danged talented, and they have more energy than a 10-piece funk band.
they. are. great.
and lucky for all of us torontonians, they have lots and lots of gigs all over the city! you can go to their site (http://www.andrewpenner.ca) to get all that information. and until you get a chance to actually head out and see them, you can listen to them here: http://www.myspace.com/thesunparlour .
now excuse me, i’m going to go sit by a campfire, eyes closed in blissed out appreciation and hands clasped in giddy anticipation, and wait ever so impatiently for their upcoming album…
the Sunparlour Players (a.k.a. Andrew Penner and Mark Schachowskoy) are like gospel with all of the thumping and none of the bible. they’re a glass of mint julep served by a pixie in a hickory-smoked arcade. they’re fried chicken served on a quilt of patchwork pin-up girls, spread out on blue grass under an orange sky. they’re a train teeming with painted ladies and boozy bearded blackjackers, careening, speeding, charging charging through a prairie sunset. they're hungry sex on a hot afternoon in a summer field buzzing with cicadas. they're that scene in pulp fiction where uma thurman gets an adrenaline shot right to the heart.
or as my friend glowingly said, "they're like hillbilly punk!"
they're intense, they're fun, they're powerful, they're danged talented, and they have more energy than a 10-piece funk band.
they. are. great.
and lucky for all of us torontonians, they have lots and lots of gigs all over the city! you can go to their site (http://www.andrewpenner.ca) to get all that information. and until you get a chance to actually head out and see them, you can listen to them here: http://www.myspace.com/thesunparlour .
now excuse me, i’m going to go sit by a campfire, eyes closed in blissed out appreciation and hands clasped in giddy anticipation, and wait ever so impatiently for their upcoming album…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)