Life, the universe, and lunch

On the iPad

2010-01-27T16:58:00.003-05:00

I'd prefer the iPad to a netbook and if someone gave me one I'd use the shit out of it, but I wouldn't shell out for an iPad. I need a desktop, I need a smartphone, I don't need an iPad. It's pure disposable income territory, of which I have none...

(Because everyone else was blogging it)

Moding Depechedly

2009-07-28T22:53:00.014-04:00

So after 15 years or so of being a fan (yes, I mocked them openly in high school, but that was 20 or so years ago) I finally got to see Depeche Mode. It's something I should have done with Tammy a long time ago (she loved them too, in fact Somebody was the first song played at our wedding reception and we used it again when we renewed our vows) but for whatever reason just didn't, but at least now that's been put half right. (Wish I could go back and pick up the spare... sigh.)

Anyways, yeah, I saw them and they were freaking amazing! I think the best moment was when they played Never Let Me Down Again and we all waved our hands back and forth like that magic moment at the Rose Bowl in 1988 (which starts about 3:40 into the linked clip) that I've watched about 100 fricking thousand times and so sorely wished I'd been there for. Magic. Icing on the cake was when we all sang Happy Birthday to Martin too at the end, who's b-day had been just the day before.

I wanted to take lots of pictures but from the lawn section (which was a great experience, thanks Anne!) my camera just wasn't getting enough light to take a non blurry shot no matter how I set it, so I finally gave up and just took video which mostly worked out okay. I wish I'd gotten more full songs video'd, but the urge to dance was entirely too great so I mostly gave up after getting a half minute or so of establishing shot just to trigger my memories of the wonderful night that was.

Below is the full set list from the show (thanks TK!), the clickable titles lead to downloadable .avi's taken straight off my camera's memory card:

In Chains
Wrong
Hole To Feed
Walking In My Shoes
It's No Good
A Question Of Time
Precious
Fly On The Windscreen
Little Soul
Home
Come Back
Fragile Tension
In Your Room
I Feel You
Policy Of Truth
Enjoy The Silence
Never Let Me Down Again

Encore 1:
Stripped
Master & Servant
Strangelove

Encore 2:
Personal Jesus
Waiting For The Night

I kind of wish that Martin had sung Somebody, but then again the pain of not being able to share that moment with Tam would probably have been too much to bear, so perhaps it was all for the best.

Huge thank you's to Anne (who let me know that the show was coming and let me join up with her group) as well as Dave, Andrew and Martin for feeding us still after all of these years.

(12' video globe. Freaking amazing. Damn skippy!)

Talking to Myself

2009-07-20T15:27:00.004-04:00

Well this was strange. Thanks to Google I've known for some time now that there are other me's out there, well today I got a chance to talk to one of them. Thanks to a typo in the e-mail address of an online purchase he'd made; I received the order confirmation of another me, including full address and phone number. Now I probably could have just deleted the e-mail, but I knew that shipping confirmations would be coming as well as follow-up spams, etc., and who knows; there may even have been another mistake on the order that he'd care to know about and correct; so the nice guy in me felt compelled to inform him of the error. It took me about an hour to get psyched up for it, but finally I called me to inform myself of my mistake. Weird. I asked me if I drove a race car, and it turns out that I do... nice to finally put a voice to the name I've read so much about.

Farewell Marshmallow

2009-05-18T01:53:00.009-04:00

Earlier today I decided that it was time to comb Marshmallow, my giant white fluffy cat. She didn't take to it as well as she usually does (she typically just loves being combed) so I stopped before the last knot was out of her fur. She sat on the floor in front of me and seemed to be breathing in short forced gasps, striking me as almost the same way that I breath when my asthma is getting to me. It was odd, but she wasn't wheezing or anything and otherwise behaved like herself so I figured she was just a bit under the weather and resolved to watch her more closely, maybe take her to the vet on Tuesday if she still showed symptoms. The rest of the day she was a little bit more reserved than usual, but not enough that I thought anything of it.

Tonight as I lay on the couch watching tv she jumped down off the couch across from me and walked slowly around the corner into the bedroom hallway. Her mouth was wide open and her tongue was out, her sides heaving in that same 'short of breath' pant she was doing after I'd combed her. I followed her to go to the bathroom then watched her as she lay down in the hallway on her side, mouth still open and tongue hanging out. Now I was seriously scared. I went over to her and all the sudden realized that she wasn't breathing at all anymore, she'd literally just dropped dead in front of me, and there was nothing at all I could do. I held her tight and stroked her and told her over and over again how much I loved her, and that was it.

Once again I don't get it. There was nothing at all to indicate she was in such a bad way. I took her to the emergency vet clinic, just like Trickster before her last year, and made arrangements for her to be cremated. The vet examined her and heard my story, had a hunch, and asked permission to use a needle on her. She quickly drew a needle full of clear, slightly pinkish fluid. Marshmallow's chest cavity was filled with it, a pleural effusion that kept her lungs from expanding properly. She literally suffocated right in front of me and I had no idea it was going on. The vet assured me that even if I'd brought her in earlier today there was nothing that they could have done to prevent her death. Prolong her life a little bit maybe, but not save her. She likely had an undiagnosed heart condition, but there's a chance it was a viral infection called FIP which means that Timbit, my remaining cat, is at risk of it too so I'm having a post-mortem done.

I hate death. I hate saying goodbye. I still remember when it was clear that we were losing Mayonnaise in 2001 and Tam and I drove him to the EVC to be euthanized; that feeling of finality as we walked out the door knowing that he would never see these walls again, that this place was sadly and permanently emptier. It was the same when we took dad to hospital in 2006, and when Trickster passed away here at home last spring. Today I made that lonely exit again, but even harder was coming home and opening the door, knowing that I wouldn't hear that meow as she came up to greet me. Tim's still here of course but he doesn't say much, and certainly doesn't rush up to say hi like Marshmallow always did.

I was so blessed to have that cat. I remember after Mayo passed, it took us some time to get over it and I'd always thought that three cats was too much for a one bedroom apartment; but after eight months of the place being one cat emptier it was simply time to get another. We searched online classifieds and listings at various shelters for an older cat, as we knew they don't often get adopted and are ultimately put down, and we wanted to give such a kitty a second chance. We found a listing at the Toronto Humane Society that really spoke to us and drove to Toronto to adopt, but when we got there they said the cat was still having all sorts of health problems and was not well enough to be adopted out. Tam was heartbroken as we were so set on that cat, but agreed not to waste our trip and to take a look around to see if there were any other older cats that we could help.

There were all sorts that were cute but we saw one in particular that just sat at the back of her cage, not being social with anyone who came up to her. As I wheeled Tammy by the front of her cage in the wheelchair though, this cat brightened, stepped forward to the bars and reached out to touch Tammy with her paw. Instantly we knew this was our cat and brought her back with us to Kitchener. She was such a sweety, pure white with long fur and green eyes that were always wide open with warmth and love. They told us her name was Fluffy and while she literally certainly was, it just didn't fit her and we resolved instantly to change it. I wanted to call her Princess but for Tammy it was nothing but Marshmallow, and reluctantly I agreed. Cats don't understand much, or at least not when you're trying to tell them what to do, but this cat must have understood 'marshmallow' because she grew right into it. Fast. She went from slight to fat in no time at all, and after a few months there was no question of her being named anything else but.

Her bond with Tammy was instant and they were always together, which I was so happy about because Trickster was skittish and distant, and Tam had never forgiven Timbit for trashing the new furniture and curtains when we first got him as a kitten. It was Tam who begged for us to get him but after just a few weeks he was no longer Timbit, becoming instead "Your damn cat!", as in "Get your damn cat off the couch!" "Get your damn cat off the curtains!" You get the idea. I had my own pet name for Marshmallow too of course, Cuddle Slut. That cat just could not stand to have anyone or anything but her be the centre of attention. If you'd pet Timbit or Trickster while she wasn't actively being petted by someone else, she'd ditch whomever she was with to come over and vie for your attention. Her cutest gesture was when she'd look at you with those wide eyes and tap you two or three times on the shoulder or leg with a single paw, just as if she was saying "Excuse me. Hello. Excuse me!"

When Tam moved into the nursing home and wasn't around the house as much, Marshmallow still kept up her loyalties, giving Tam the majority of attention whenever she was home for a visit. After Tam got the feeding tube though and was afraid to be sat on all the time, Marshmallow slowly got the hint and bonded primarily with me. I felt guilty as hell about that but Tam never seemed to notice so it was all good. Of course when Tam passed away that bond was the most precious thing in the world because Marshmallow always reminded me so much of her, and the way she'd picked Tammy out of all of those other people at the humane society.

I've gone through a lot of depression both before and after Tam's passing away, and with that comes a lot of feelings of worthlessness. Marshmallow for sure is the one that got me through it. I'll always remember that unconditional love from her. All those times she'd be sitting on me purring away while all I could think of or say was "Why do you love me so much?" She didn't answer me of course, she'd just sit there going right on loving me. Goddamn I miss that cat, we all need a little unconditional love in our lives from time to time, and she was the greatest source of that.

Farewell Marsha; Sweetball; Pussciousness. I love you too. Unconditionally.

Review: Black & Blue Powertrip 2007

2009-04-27T23:46:00.011-04:00

Originally posted at HouseAddict.com, Oct 17, 2007...

First off, let me say thank you to HouseAddict for the ticket draw, I was one of the lucky winners. At first I thought it was odd that the winners names weren't publicly announced, but in the end it made sense because the tickets were to be picked up at the door; where they didn't ask me for any ID. It sure would have sucked to get there only to find that some unscrupulous sort had already snagged them!

There were a bunch of us who carpooled down in two vehicles, myself driving Dusan and Tina (some good friends of Sheldon's, now good friends of mine) and Johnny Action driving Sheldon and Lea. Despite our best plans to leave around 12:30, I think it ended up being almost 2:00 (my original target departure time) before we actually set off. Things were overcast at first which was a bit of a downer (I don't know why, we were going to an indoor party) but a little bit past Trenton where the 401 gets hilly and pretty we drove out from under this ridge of grey cloud into some beautiful sunshiny sky. W00t!

We arrived a Montréal about 8:30 p.m. and headed straight to the stadium to take care of our tickets. Never having been there before we parked just off Rue Sherbrooke, which made sense to us as it's the main north-south drag running by the stadium. There was an information kiosk and some ticket machines with long lines of people at them, so we headed right over to take care of our ticket situation. Only something was wrong, the people lined up for tickets were parents with kids in tow... not the kind of crowd we expected for Black & Blue! Alright, we figured it out, we were across from the stadium at Jardin Botanique, and there was some big spider show going on that night. We duck into the greenhouse to exploit the bathrooms, muse over this brilliant 4 metre long architectural model of the entire gardens, then head for the stadium.

Everything changes then as we cross the street and into the land of the surreal. We stand on acres of futuristically sculpted concrete, sweeping multi-level curves evoking grand themes of unity and accomplishment. You can just visualize the teeming masses of people surrounding us in every direction, minions of some intergalactic hq. Only they don't -- in all the land as far as we can see, there's just us. It's... it's... post apocalyptic. "There's supposed to be a giant party here, right?" "Yep." "Hmm." We descend space-aged ramps of concrete, feeling like Bugs Bunny wandering around on mars, to make our way towards the stadium edge. In the distance we manage to spot a few folks, perched on the edge of some unreachable level, silently watching us like the gargoyles of art deco New York. Ominously, they don't look like Black & Blue party types either.

So there we are, tiny and insignificant against the faceless wall of black glass that encircles the stadium. There's banks of doors; some saying exit, some enter, others offering tickets; yet all are lifeless and locked. Following the slight curve of glass a quarter way 'round we come across a single lonely strobe light, blinking away soullessly inside. It's on our level and pointed down into some anonymous staircase. By its flashes we can make out interior hallways, bathrooms and food counters; but all are as lonely and desolate as the space outside. "This is the right stadium right?" "Yeah-huh."

Half way around we descend to a lower level at the base of the graceful sloping roof tower, discovering the swim complex nestled under giant arched roofs like the lungs of some alien beast. The pools within are perfectly still, their audience of surrounding grandstands deserted. We pass between the swimplex and biodome, coming to the base of a driveway and the doors of a giant ticket hall, but it too is dark and deserted. For the first time there's people here close enough to talk to, but they're just teenage skateboarders hanging out and not Black & Blue'rs, so we pass by with nary a word. Farther around yet we come to a loading dock, but there's not a single equipment truck, nor any of the roadies you'd expect to find setting up for such a massive show. "Is this the right night?" "It should be."

After having circled the entire stadium we gave up and crossed back to our cars. We know we were early but it's 8:45 by then and the show starts at 9:00, surely there should have at least been some sign of it? We just can't figure it out, but fortunately have a standing invite from Sara to crash by her hotel room, so at least there's somewhere else for us to go. In the back of our minds though we're thinking, "If we leave now maybe we can still catch some of Carl Cox at Guv, and we can definitely make our Fcuk'n Beats at Zone." We call Sara and make for her hotel, still scratching our heads.

The surreal air evaporates once we get there, almost. A girl none of us recognize is just darting out of the hotel when we arrive, but she says hi and tells us to go right on up to room 406. "WTF?" "Okay, that was weird." Normalcy finally returns to our life when we get to room 406, your typical messy party-for-the-weekend room with a laptop spinning house in the corner. Ahhhhh yeah! Introductions are made as we meet Nancy and mystery lobby girl, Magen, who joins us shortly thereafter. Apparently she's a friend of Sara's that I've met before at Zone (¿que?) who also recognized Sheldon and Lea from a bunch of Sara's pictures. Okey dokey. We relate our post-apoclyptic vision of an empty stadium and the girls assure us that, "Yes Virginia, there is a Black & Blue." They even pull out a magazine-sized event pamphlet to prove it, but at this point I'm still thinking it's an elaborate ploy to sucker Ontarians into driving 6 hours for no reason, possibly staged by Irving Oil. I'll believe in the party when I see it.

A half hour later we're out of the hotel and milling around down on the street, and for reasons not fully explainable (hey, we'd been in the twilight zone since we got there) it takes about another 30 minutes to actually start heading off to the stadium, in two separate cabs and a Honda civic, all at least 10 minutes apart. Dusan, Tina and I are in the middle cab, which drops us off one block east of Rue Sherbrooke at a stadium entry hall we had never seen before. It's huge, and apparently we were walking on the roof of it during 'the surreal stadium circle tour' we'd taken an hour earlier. Indeed there are people here, and more than just a few -- Black & Blue is alive and well and we are about to partake! Woohoo!

As we walk in we see the girls (Sara, Nancy and Magen) just disappearing through the ticket holder door to leave the three of us on our own, strangers in a strange land. We spot the ticket window and are completely struck with fear. Dusan and Tina because they still had to buy tickets, and someone they'd gotten a hold of on the phone earlier said it was sold out, me because after all the surrealocity I'm convinced that they'll never have heard of HouseAddict and I'll be similarly s-o-l. The B&B organizers have got their shit together though, and all of us have tickets in hand in no time flat. We walk down the long ticket hall to the subway entrance to find some bathrooms and while in there get a text from Sara, apparently they're doing some serious security checks; shoes off and everything. Uh-oh. I take time out to re-arrange my persona, making sure any substances of questionable intent are all the way into the toes of my shoes under the insoles. "That oughta do it", I say to myself, "now to find Johnny and give him his ticket." (He was my guest on the other freebie.)

Okay, thence came the return of the surreal. Johnny, Lea and Sheldon have apparently dropped off the face of the earth. We call, we text and wander about aimlessly checking the crowd. Dusan and Tina are taking it in stride but for some reason I am getting seriously freaked out by their sudden unavailability. I call, text, and call some more as five minutes go by, then ten, then twenty. Agghh! Serious freak-outage is now going on here. In the meantime, the line by the doors, non-existent when the girls popped through, is now about one third of the way to the subway entrance. Things are getting crowded now and the remainder of our TO crew is still nowhere to be found. After a while the frozen line gets moving and then it's our turn to go through the doors. Only I can't, I've still got Johnny's ticket in my hand. I tell Dusan and Tina to head in and start letting group after group of people through ahead of me as the security guards give me that "you're a fucking idiot" look. Finally, just as I'm too freaked out to remain sane, I spot Sheldon, Lea and Johnny by the ticket window. Yeeha! I head over to meet them, unrealizedly (a perfectly cromulent word) losing my spot in line. Security's right, I am a fucking idiot. We turn around from the ticket window to join the line, only now it goes all the way down to the very end of the hallway to the subway entrance. When the @#!! did that happen?

We take the long walk back and await our turn in line. At first it doesn't seem like it's moving, but slowly it does and we finally get in. It's now at least an hour since the girls ducked through. We walk down the hall from the ticket check to the security zone. There's about ten security lines and it practically looks like an airport, with long tables full of little trays for personal effects. I'm feeling confident in my shoe solution but then see somebody not only have to remove their shoes, but get their insoles pulled and the shoes shaken out. It doesn't help that posters on the walls say that any violators will not be allowed in. I wouldn't care if my stuff got taken, but not letting me in? Now that's some serious shit! I tell Lea, Shelds and Johnny that my nerve has cracked, mumble something about going to the bathroom and excuse my way through the line back towards the entrance. Fortunately, this being a stadium, there are bathrooms just about everywhere and I get a chance to ditch my contraband. I rejoin the security line, having lost another twenty minutes before getting back to where I was, and finally go through one of the lines near the middle. The middle lines where, apparently, nobody is being seriously searched and no shoes are removed. Aw crap. Better safe than sorry I guess. I text Sara "Cleared through" and notice that it is now 1:00 a.m. -- where did the time go???

Let me break from the review for a second to give kudos to the organizers for how well they did with the whole drug thing. While it seemed pretty draconian on the way in, let me just tell you how much you really get a feeling of being cared for by the folks who put this show on. They had a pharmacist on staff to identify legal drugs from illegal ones, because being an HIV/AIDS event there are a lot of people who do have to carry around quite a cocktail with them. They also wanted to be really sure that everyone had a good time and nobody got stuck with a bad trip. Just check out some of the great anti-drug posters they had spread all around this event:

So after security we're all shepharded down a long dark ramp lit only by revolving blue police lights. Cool! The throbbing bass is practically blowing my hair around as I turn the final corner and make my way out onto the stadium floor. Wow! Just... Wow!

The decor is so cool, there's a giant stage in the center with male and female fetish-clad gogo dancers getting their groove on, surrounded by 100' scaffolds of speakers, light towers and giant inflatable decorative balls. I look up, waaaay up, and can just faintly make out the oval of concrete and stadium lights surrounding the dimly glowing pool of the stadium's soft inner roof. It's my first glimpse of le Stade Olympique, and I get to take it in from the center of the stadium floor. Incredible! I get a text from Sara, "U in the room?" and try to reply but can't. The concrete has just cut off my cell signal; now how do I find everybody? I go for a quick walk-about in a vain search for signal. I travel all the way around the edge of the main floor, up the ramps to the chill out seats, into the restaurant at the back, across and down the stairs to the Alternator Room, then through the long hallway back to the Main Room. Nothing. I turn my phone off and on again; nothing. Where did I get that last message from Sara? Aha, main entry corridor! I head back out the main entry to the security check and graciously get a signal. Woohoo! I can find people again! I text "main entry" to Sara and she says she's on her way, then I bump into Johnny. We wait for a bit and no Sara, but he knows where everyone else is at so I follow him back into the main room and then lose him again, but then bump into Sara. It continued on like that for a while; I think it was over two hours before I had finally run into everybody again. Strangely, my phone had full signal bars no matter where I went after that, wtf? Chalk up another point to the strange night of the surreal.

Okay, now on to the experience... this event was absolutely incredible! Antoine Clamaran was just coming on in the Main Room during my first walkabout, as Michael Kaiser spun up in the Alternator Room. Michael's music wasn't really my thing and anyways, I really wanted to check out Antoine's set after Shel's great review of his TiL appearance, so the main room was where it was at for me for the next two hours. It was incredible, the sounds, the colours, 10,000 of my closest friends. You often hear about how bad the sound is at stadium events but the audio guys really had this place nailed down. There was less bass and more echo outside of the speaker towers that ringed the stadium floor (i.e. at the many bar areas and chill out seats), but within those towers the audio was perfect. The highs didn't echo and do that 'seashell distortion thing' in your ears, the bass moved you, and the mid-range was nice and crisp. The visuals were incredible. In addition to the standard arrays of vari-lights, there were fixed rectangular 'flood lights' everywhere that slid through the full spectrum of colours, with high intensity purples and ultramarines clear enough to make a grown man weep. There were lasers abound and a large video screen behind the DJ with trippy electro lightning arc graphics to go with the Powertrip theme and that also showed the DJ's name from time to time. Nice.

The center stage was huge and had about twenty gogo dancers on it who would mostly ad-lib but also did some choreographed numbers in between, as well as a number of full production theatrical shows to break up the evening. I wish I could say what Antoine was spinning but I didn't recognize any of it and didn't take any 'track id' notes either, I was just so completely immersed in the experience. Only one minor bad, I braved the car wash crew to dance right by the booth for a while, but to my great disappointment no-one else in front of the booth was dancing. They just crushed in and stood there, or plowed their way from point a to point b. I'd really like to have got my freak on in there, but there just wasn't any space that stayed put. No matter, bouncing my way out to the other three sides of the main stage there was plenty of room and plenty of dancing. Gays, straights, costume ballers, club gear, fetish gear; there was everything and everyone here and they all had massive smiles on their faces and were digging the vibe. It was probably the most life affirming thing I've done since parachuting all those years ago. Man, just really fucking incredible.

I took a little break from the crowd to just sit back in the chill out seats and drink it all in, then Sheldon found me to take me to the Alternator Room for Gabriel and Dresden. What to say about the Alternator Room? You go down another dark curving stadium hallway lit with those mondo-cool police lights, then around a sharp corner to enter into this big box warehouse space about the size of Koolhaus. If you picture it from above as a Canadian flag, the maple leaf area is a raised stage in the middle, the booth is top centre and the red end boxes are chillout seats surrounded by forests of 10' truss segments standing vertically for no particular reason. The booth is surrounded by what look like electrical cables strung from giant insulator cones, like a giant transformer in a power station at Niagara Falls. Uber cool! Back to the flag analogy, the borders between the red and white panels have triple video screens hanging from the ceiling with the power trip graphics and DJ names going by, as well as showing mood graphics composed live by some guy working banks of computers to the right of the booth. Sometimes you could just lose yourself watching those screens as landscapes flew by, or sun spots grew up, morphed, flared and died before your eyes, all set to the pulsing music.

Gabriel and Dresden themselves? Incredible! And I'm glad I let Sheldon drag me out to them for a musical education. I was so blown away that I started taking notes because I knew I wanted to capture this stuff in a review. I'm happy to report that they hit us particularly hard, and was especially thrilled when they threw down Columbian Soul, a track that I've wanted to dance to since first hearing it on Anthony Pryce' Four Fifty Four (Blue) set. Beatport says they have their own remix, that was probably the one they used. These guys were the gods of the remix in fact, taking out vintage tunes that stood the test of time perfectly well in their own right; then turning them into new found gold in a house-ish vein. Depeche Mode - Here is the House, The Police - Little Black Spot, Theme from Brokeback Mountain, Dust in the Wind. They had it all and made it all spectacular!

And hats off again to the organizers, even in the Alternator Room we were treated to some extra spectacle. Dominic Lacasse is an amazing acrobat who does incredible stuff on the rings:

Although we'd shown up as a group I pretty much did my own thing at Black & Blue, and for Gabriel and Dresden that meant dancing right smack dab front-and-centre of the booth for almost their entire set. Friends came and friends went but my place was there by the booth, being schooled in the ways of House. I think it was right towards the end of their set when I finally let Sheldon pull me away to chill in the restaurant for a bit before heading back to the main room for Mark Anthony. I can't really say anything bad about Mark Anthony, but after my intense dance sessions to Antoine Clamaran and then Gabriel and Dresden I was feeling a lot more chill, and his set remained basically anonymous to me. It couldn't have been bad though, or I would have remembered that. I also bounced back to the Alternator Room for Misstress Barbara, but my overall euphoria was wearing off (and sickness was kicking in, ugh, that part of the evening sucked!) and I also don't remember much of her set, though I had a really good time chilling out to the spots on the video screens for a while... ("Who's agitating my dots?!")

I spent a good amount of time in the chill out seats after that, just trying to relax and do some 'mind over matter' things in my head to soothe my stomach down again. That was actually a bit of a blessing because it also gave me some great introspective moments. Leaning back and looking up again at that graceful concrete arch, I suddenly felt connected in time and space to 1976 and could just feel the history, the presence of thousands of people from all different nations and cultures of the world, brought to one place and time to celebrate human achievement. Yep, it was pretty mystical... I wonder if anyone else who was there that night felt it? I phased back in again for D-Formation's set and they also did a really good job of keeping the energy up while maintaining a smooth and all-encompassing vibe. I was still in a bit of a chill mood though, and just sat back to film it for a while. (Sorry, the visuals are great but my phone really over-compresses the audio, just mute it and watch das pretty blinkenlights...)

As time wore on and stuff wore off, the long drive from the day before was catching up to me and it was getting time to go. Sara was feeling it too and found me to ask if I'd be leaving soon, so we said our goodbyes to those we could find and taxi'd it back to the hotel. That was a bit of an adventure as the cab driver couldn't figure out where we were trying to go (you'd think given a hotel and a street name he'd have a clue, but nope, not this guy!), and I tried to tell him which cross street but kept saying Sherbourne instead of Sherbrooke (damned Toronto streets floating around in my head!) We finally got it sorted though and the ride back only cost a buck or three more than the ride down, so he didn't do too badly. It seems that we'd all decided it was time to go around about that same time, because I think we were only at the hotel for about fifteen minutes when the whole group was together again. We'd had the gracious offer from the girls to crash there but nine of us in one room was really too much, so I headed to the lobby to snag another one. Unfortunately the six hour rental rate wasn't much different from a full overnight, but fuck it, you need what you need when you need it... this way everyone got to have a shower and their own bit of space. Sheldon, Lea and Johnny were quickly off on their drive home, but Tina, Dusan and I needed some sleep. At least the two of them managed to actually get some; after all that illness and tiredness that I was feeling, in the end I never did actually fall asleep. Around 3:30 I gave up trying and we collected ourselves for the long drive home. We ran into some nasty rain and nastier traffic, but made it into to TO by 11:00, and I finally crashed in my own bed somewhere around midnight.

Let me just tell you all again; what a great adventure! It feels weird to call a party life-changing, but it felt that way at the time and I guess it still kind of does. The setting, the scale, the mix of so many different types of people all coming together to party, and the overwhelming thrill of drinking it all in. The whole thing was just -- wow! I'm so glad I went (though I had to ditch the family at thanksgiving, ouch!) and can't wait to go again next year. And this time I'm dragging the rest of you fuckers all with me! This is just something that everyone needs to do for themselves at least once.

Also, let me just say to the folks of Montreal, thank you! I was so moved by the feelings that overwhelmed me in that stadium that I did a bunch of googling about it the next day, and was sad to read that many Montrealers feel like the place is an embarrassment because of the problems with the roof and the fact that it took so long to pay off. (Thirty years, they just squared up last year!) Some of them even want the place torn down because they say the world is laughing at them for it. Let me just tell you folks that it's all in your mind! Nobody who has actually been there could possibly laugh at you, that stadium is something truly special and you guys are lucky to have it. It's not just another sports stadium, it's something epic that reaches out to you from across time and space, connecting you to the rest of the world. Keep it, treasure it, love it... because it damned well better be there when I come back!

This is just wicked cool

2008-12-19T15:04:00.009-05:00

Proof that wind power doesn't have to be ugly:

The Bahrain World Trade Center

Re: "coalition government"-your thoughts?

2008-12-18T14:43:00.009-05:00

I'm not sure how I feel about it.

I was all for it initially, mainly because it was a move against Harper and I'm pissed at him for calling the election sooner than he said he would. (Not that I ever liked/voted for him anyway, but at least he used to be a guy who did what he said he would do.) With the realization that the NDP and Liberals had to throw in their hat with the separatists to make the coalition work I have since been kind of against it, and certainly backing off a bit to let cooler heads prevail seems to be showing some progress.

In general the separatists annoy me... not because they want to separate (well, that does bug me some) but because they have no aspirations anywhere outside of Quebec; effectively making their sole purpose (since they'll never have a majority and aren't in it to win) to dilute the vote, thereby f'ing the rest of us over and making crap like this far more likely to happen. If there were separatists in the party outside of Quebec, I could respect them a lot more.

On the other hand, the separatists are the elected representatives of a large number of my fellow Canadians and do represent their hopes and ideals, and the coalition would give them the voice they'll never have as a permanent minority. Given that a coalition government is legal (and despite Harper's desperate pleas of dictatorship, 62% of us were for not-Harper) it might be interesting to see how this works out. At least for the eighteen months for which the Bloc pledged their coalition support, which is a longer period of stability than we're ever going to see otherwise. I really don't want another vote, as the results will be no more conclusive than the last vote that we should never have had.

In the end I suppose I'm nothing but a typical Canadian; too wishy washy and uninformed to take a real stand on the matter. But hey, at least I voted... and for 'not-Harper' at that.

- Originally posted at asog.net

HD versus House M.D.

2008-12-03T00:06:00.006-05:00

I was glad to see them finally deal with Huntingtons Disease properly on tonight's episode of House. It's been mentioned in a few recent episodes with regards to Thirteen's (aka Dr. Remy Hadley's) family history and genetic testing, but they never quite got it right. (First a positive test result with no mention of the repeat count, then talk about the count as if it was some sort of follow up test to the initial pass/fail result.)

This time they showed Thirteen dealing with the childhood memories of her mother's struggle (mostly resentment and embarrassment at her mother's treatment of her, followed by regret that she'd never said goodbye to her mother as a result) that were brought back by the sight of another HD patient farther along in their progression. It was very similar to anecdotes I've heard both from within Tammy's family and within the caregivers support group, and touching to see it dealt with realistically on tv. The depictions of the physical symptoms of the disease were accurate (although it doesn't present this way in everyone), and the description of her mother's mental condition and abusiveness brought on by the fact her brain was 'shrinking' (a simplification, but effective enough for a tv drama) quite to the point.

As much as watching scenes of Thirteens' mother and the patient in the waiting room made me sad they also made me happy; knowing that this is a show that is watched and respected by millions, and that hopefully some of those people will be affected enough by what they saw tonight to start asking questions and getting involved. One can only hope.

List of HD Posts

2008-11-22T15:58:00.007-05:00

Somebody asked me about my blog in a Facebook group on Huntingtons Disease, so I decided to collect all HD related posts in one place to make them easier to navigate. Here goes, in order from the beginning:

I blogger
And then there were two
Behind the backs of those we love
Heck in a pink Hilfiger
Waiting to get hosed
Paging Dr. Godot
To quote Professor Farnsworth
It's not over til it's over
Useless
A day that nothing interesting happened
Chair story
Hoses noses roses and moses
Triumph and tragedy
Quest for faith
Mortality a phone call away
Not so scary anymore
Merry christmas pretty girl
I don't wanna...
Christmastime
Soon my dear, soon
Burnout
Mine's defective, can I have another one?
Somebody
C'est Difficile
DNF
Closer
Update
Tammy's comfort zone
Glimpse of the future
Loss
Success = failure?
Happy Easter, wish you could see it
Cancer
Three days
Caregiver Stress
Of doodads and debt loads
Friends
I understand
From an e-mail I just sent:
Transference
Heroic Measures
Damn I'd love to do this
How's everything with you, and with Tammy these days?
Release me
Farewell My Love
Haunted

Memorial Photo Set on Flickr

They're also all cross-linked now, look for the <Previous HD and Next HD> links at the bottom of each to follow the chain.

Review: Casa De Los Fantasmas

2008-07-10T13:18:00.006-04:00

During the 1920s and 30s, radio airwaves crackled with the spooky creakings and moanings of horror/suspense radio shows like Lights Out and The Inner Sanctum. The Canadian Space Opera Company, creators of Peril From Beyond Space!, has uncovered long-lost episodes of the spookiest show of them all -- Out Of The Closet.

So this show is part of the Fringe Festival, whichs aims "to have a wide variety of artists participate while empowering audiences with the ability to decide for themselves the truly great productions from the good, the bad and the gloriously disastrous." Translation: Whatever you see will be entertaining; either deliberately or by accident. A practical upshot of this accessibility is that tickets are only 10 bucks; so really; you have no excuse not to see a Fringe show.

Casa De Los Fantasmas falls under the deliberately entertaining category. The acting is at times campy and almost consistently over the top (over projected, over enunciated and over acted) but this is in perfect homage to the classic radio shows it emulates. (Just get yourself any of the Radio Reruns releases and I'll prove it to you.) They capture the spirit of the old shows to a tee, but amp it up with a creative use of stealth humour -- you can't always laugh at the jokes themselves; but you can laugh at the fact that this was once considered serious entertainment -- and laugh at that you will.

The presentation of the show is an art in and of itself. First off there's your trip down to the studio in the basement of CIUT FM. You'll literally need a guide (and are given one) to find your way, winding through racks of radio equipment and the largest vinyl record collection you will ever (EVER!) lay eyes upon. The end of the journey is a small room hewn from the stone foundations of this historic building, affectionately dubbed "the hot box" by the cast and crew. (Don't worry, you'll live... just like radio, the show only runs for about an hour.) The small space fits the format well, though I do advise you to get there early as the view from the back is unfortunately compromised.

But what is there to see at a radio show you ask? Well, plenty in this case. While staged like radio with a central mic surrounded by the cast, each actor also plays multiple roles; adapting mannerisms (and hats) to help identify the characters. This would not have been a big deal huddled by your radio in 1935 but in the confines of the studio this really helps when the same actor voices two roles immediately back to back. With the view blocked by someone's head I found it occasionally hard to follow, and can only assume it was better for those that could see it.

Another visual not to be missed is the foley artist, or in plain english, the sound effects guy. In the age of laptops, samples, and Ableton; even the Ampex decks of the 1950s; the effects in a show are something we take for granted. Some guy pushes the button at the right time and there you go. In 1930s radio however, well... let's just say it's a little bit more of an art form.

Then finally there's the commercials: This show was generously sponsored by the fictitious folk at Colonel Mills, makers of fine household products you'll definitely want to hear about!

Casa De Los Fantasmas continues its run tonight through Sunday, and you should check it out (showtimes here). If you do plan on going though, be sure and let me know; apparently the cast rotate through their roles and I wouldn't mind checking out a remix.

GODDAMNED THAT FUCKING PEDIGREE DENTABONE COMMERCIAL!

2008-05-29T19:57:00.009-04:00

I don't need to hear some slobbery-assed dog cracking away at a bone every few minutes while I'm trying to watch something interesting, at 'commercial' level volumes no less. (I.e. compressor/limited to maximum legal power transmission levels...)

FUCK YOU PEDIGREE DENTABONE!

Fuck you National Geographic channel for running that damned spot.

McDonald's new Angus Burger sucks!

2008-05-18T18:34:00.018-04:00

Yep, I'm blogging another complaint. Sad, isn't it, when there's so many other things going on in my life that could use some lip service. Complaints are easy though; journaling's hard.

So today I was at the office catching up on work (it's not that we're busy, it's that I'm still mostly useless) and I took a break for supper, deciding to get myself a Big Xtra combo from McD's. Well I couldn't; like the Arch Deluxe before it and the McDLT before that; they've discontinued the Big Xtra. In it's place is a new Angus Burger, a "me too" rip-off of Harvey's latest large format sandwich; now made with that overly floury sandwich bread from their 'deli' offerings. I liked the red onions, the real slice of lettuce and (seemingly) thicker tomato slices; but the reality of that cold dense bun and the greasiness of a surface-fried patty that size were a huge turn-off!

Change sucks. And while I'm bitching about burgers and chain food...

Harvey's: The original fries fresh cut daily from locally grown potatoes that you had when I worked there in the eighties kicked ass! I understand that they cost a lot and you had to switch to frozen, but your first stab at frozen fries were remarkably similar and actually quite good. That seasoned crap you have now really sucks -- seasoned/crisped was an improvement for KFC but a real step backwards for you. You have the best cheap poutine ingredients in the business but they're completely wasted on the fries you serve now. I don't even order poutine from you any more because it's so awful on your current fries; so there go your heftier poutine margins. Do something about it.

Wendy's: Please switch back to your old Taco Supremo salad. Your current Southwest Taco Salad is horrible, the corn twists are too spicy for a salad and way too brittle; they actually tear up the roof of my mouth! The conventional nachos in the old salad also let you offer chili and cheese nachos as an alternative to fries, great on those days I was in a hurry and a side salad was too much like work. Assuming you fix that, then bring back the Spicy Cajun that you served as one of the six Dave's Favourites in the early nineties. I know you had to cut it because it was the only product in your lineup that used the Cajun mayonnaise and the stuff would expire before you could use it all and kept getting thrown out; but if you'd at least bring it back as a one-month special where novelty volumes would get around that problem, it would be great to taste one again from time to time. It was the best fast food chain burger ever, plus it gave you those red and yellow hot peppers that went so well on chili and cheese nachos. Jalapeños; a bit too much for fast food joint food, red and yellow peppers; just right.

Sigh. Now back to work... just three hours left before Freedom.

W00t!

UPS stands for "You people suck!"

2008-04-04T20:32:00.015-04:00

Okay, so the whole 'losing my keys on the way to Comfort Zone' incident finally galvanized me into doing something about getting the Avenger back on the road. (Backstory: The Avenger has a skinny little valet key that always lives in my wallet as a backup, so when clubbing I can just leave my real keys locked safely in my car with no risk of losing them. The Buick however has no valet key, and in fact the only keys you can get for it are computer chipped, huge and don't fit in a wallet. So sure enough, I lost my key ring while clubbing, had to take the Greyhound to Kitchener and back to grab the spare, then pay over $100 for a new key since either it (or the car) have to be programmed to work together. Oh, and my bike key; the one for the unpickable, uncuttable U-Lock that has my bike safely secured in the back room of my condo; was also on that ring and I still have to figure out what the hell I can do about that. Stupid fucking Buick!)

So anyway, now the Avenger is in the body ship getting a shit-load of work done to it restore it to near factory condition (rebuilt strut towers and rockers panels; all dents and scratches repaired; end-to-end sandblast, re-prime, re-paint, and re-clearcoat; blast and re-paint all rims; blast and re-paint wiper arms; buff the headlight clusters back to clear; new hood and windshield), and as part of all that I was delighted to find four brand new hub caps on e-bay for only USD $11.95 each. Woohoo! Except that they got shipped with UPS...

---

Like just about everybody else on the planet I work during the day when packages get delivered, so I often just get stuff shipped to my office. Unfortunately, past brutal experience has taught me that UPS is in cahoots with the customs brokerage industry, meaning that anything shipped from outside of Canada to my office via UPS is not handled as customs-due-upon-delivery as it would be if mailed to my home, but rather gets into some grubby little broker's hands where not only do they charge duties, but also flag it as a personal shipment so it doesn't get sent to my office, and so that they can charge huge amounts of money for 'special handling' when I go to pick it up. I once had a $90 Michael Schumacher hat for dad cost over $200 this way; so having learned my lesson and knowing that these hubcaps were coming from Texas, I reluctantly had them shipped to my home address.

Now with my cell phone being my only phone, when someone buzzes my condo I get a ring wherever I am; meaning that yesterday while at work I got the door call from the UPS driver. "UPS, package for Kevin Tessner." "This is he. I'm always at the office during the day, can you hold the package at your depot for pickup?" "Certainly." So I stop by their depot at 9:35 a.m. this morning, only to discover that the fucking place closed at 9:30. Now what kind of stupid fucking package service has no office open during the day for people that want to ship packages? Well fine, they're also open from 4:30 to 6:30 this evening, so I can go after work. So what happens this afternoon? Ring! "UPS, package for Kevin Tessner." "This is he. I'm always at the office during the day, can you hold the package at your depot for pickup?" "Certainly." "Will I be able to pick it up there this evening?" "Yes sir."

So I get there this evening after work and the first thing they do is give me shit for not having the little card that the driver leaves at your house when you're not home. "I haven't been home yet today, but the driver was at my house yesterday and didn't leave one. Can't you look it up?" They make a big deal out of that and claim they can't look it up on their computer, so I fire up the expensive wireless data connection on my phone and get the tracking number from Gmail. Then a half hour goes by while I stand at the desk, waiting for them to finally come back and admit that they can't find the package. "Oh sir, it seems that today was only the second delivery attempt, so it's still on the truck for a third attempt on Monday. You should have told the driver to have them leave it at the depot." "Yes. I did. Twice." And the kicker? I leave on Monday for a business trip and won't be here at all next week...

"I'm away all next week. How long will you hold the package for me if I can't take delivery on Monday?" "Five business days sir, you'll have to pick it up by Friday or it will be sent back." What the fuck? Isn't that four business days? "Can I ask you to hold it longer?" "We can do that, but you'll have to call our 800 number and provide them with the tracking number, I can't put a hold on it from here." Let me get this straight, you're the fucking depot, where I go to get my packages shipped, the very depot where you'll be holding the package for me, but you can't put a hold on it for me from here? "Yes." WTF?

Okay fine. So I phone their 800 number but by that time it's after 7:00 p.m. and I get a recording saying they're closed until Monday morning at 7:30 a.m. Great. So now, while leaving for the airport Monday morning, I also have to remember to phone UPS to get my package held for me so it doesn't disappear while I'm gone. Just fucking great... what are the odds they won't fuck that up even if I do remember to call them?

I swear to god -- UPS stands for "You people suck!"

Travel the World Without Seeing a Damned Thing

2008-02-11T17:04:00.001-05:00

I'm a huge fan of Salon.com's Ask the Pilot column and have linked to it before. Well, Patrick Smith has come up with another one that I just feel compelled to share:

Ask the Pilot: You call this traveling?

(Non-members, just click through the advert for a site pass to the article.)

Traumatiled

2008-02-09T20:05:00.000-05:00

Okay, so over the last month I've been trying to wrap up that tile job in my front hall that I started on way way way back when. (The carpet was pulled out over a year ago!) It took three shifts to get the floor prepped and leveled (alas, still not level enough and I'm ashamed of how crooked things turned out), two shifts of mortaring to get the hall and then the closet tiled, then another shift of gluing to get the baseboard tiles in place, and so finally all that was left was to grout and seal.

So today I started on the grout job... ugh! I thought this would be the easy part after all the rest but it's a fucking nightmare! I was originally going to grout the floor before putting in the baseboard tiles, but the genius at Home Depot told me it would be less work to just grout everything all at once. Okay, maybe for someone who knows what they're doing that would be true; but here's one for you Einstein; I came to Home Depot to ask for your advice because I DON'T FUCKING KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!

Getting grout into the seam between the floor tiles and wall tiles is damned near impossible with merely a grout float and zero skills, and in the corners where three grout lines meet up it's even more fucking difficult. After a half hour of futzing I finally just gave up and started using my finger to push the shit into the crack like caulk, but the sharp edges of the tile snaps and the blood they quickly produced cured me of that stupid notion... Eventually I managed to sort of half-assedly get the grout in there, but I think I'll have to go over it again because the seams are only half filled, and raggedly at that.

Alas, worse was yet to come. To prevent grout haze on your tiles, you have to wipe them down with a damp (not wet) sponge. A lot. Then change the water and repeat. About 10 bazillion fucking times. Well I don't know, I wasn't getting the sponge dry enough or something because the grout just kept washing out of the cracks and hazing the tiles all over again, and I can't for the life of me produce a clean edge or a haze free tile. I finally gave up and pinned my hopes on the final step, waiting a few hours and then buffing with a dry cloth. Well that worked great on the flat floor tile but those fucking corner seams screwed me again. The half-dry grout got dragged out of them and scratched the tile glaze all to hell, leaving permanent dark-assed markings. (Did I mentioned it's charcoal grout with snow white tile? Yeah.)

Oh, and the worst, Mr Home Depot Einstein assured me that one box of grout was more than enough for my small amount of square footage. Well I only mixed half the box because I had a feeling things wouldn't go as easily as described in the pamphlets, and didn't want the mix to start drying out on me while I was still working. Well half a box didn't even finish my closet, and a quick look at the square footage listed on the side of the box reveals that Mr Home Depot Einstein is in fact a stupid fucking moron. After a full days work I've got about three quarters of a closet grouted to show for it. Badly grouted that is.

So the plan now is just to finish the closet where no one can really see the bollocks job I did of it, then hire someone to do the rest of the work that people will actually see. The pamphlets and web sites make it all sound so easy, a one-weekend do it yourself project. Friday night, surface prep; Saturday, tile; Sunday, grout. Yeah right! No matter how much work I've poured into this project it always feels like I still have as much left to go as when I started this whole 'one-weekend' job. I am sick of this shit; and Tammy's "no health questions asked" life insurance policy (hah, the fools!) paid out this week; so fuck it... I'll just throw money at the job until it goes away.

Mercifully, blessedly, away.

Haunted

2008-01-24T07:32:00.002-05:00

So I woke up this morning from the first dream I've had about Tammy. (That I recall; I almost never have any recollection of even having had dreams.) In it I was with her and her mother and some anonymous social workers in some sort of institutional setting and she'd just had (but quickly recovered from) an episode like 2006's in which she almost died, and because of that she was scheduled to be 'put down' the next morning. We were going over old pictures of her's from before I had met her and talking about things she had done and places she'd been, and discovered a photo of her and an old high school boyfriend who turns out to be someone who's now a really good friend of mine (real friend, fictional picture and storyline -- the random stupidity of dreams). Then we both began crying about how she wasn't going to get to see him again before 'the end' and he didn't even know what she was going through now; and that turned into an argument with the social workers about why it had to be tomorrow (more stupidity: she could stand, pace and argue like nothing was wrong with her) and "Couldn't we just have one more day?" etc. Then she said something like "Fucking good life I've had, haven't I?" Not in the good way but like in her diaries when she was battling depression; and that's when I woke up shaking.

Okay. So I don't care if I have dreams about Tammy, fuck I want to have dreams about Tammy, but not like this one. Not like this. Fucking great day I'm going to have at work today aren't I?

< Previous HD

Tammy Campbell, Jun 1970 - Dec 2007

2007-12-27T08:12:00.001-05:00

CAMPBELL, Tammy - Peacefully, after a joyous Christmas with her family and courageous battle with Huntington's Disease, at Lanark Heights, Kitchener; in her 38th year. Tammy was born and raised in Ayr, attended Southwood Secondary School in Cambridge, and graduated with a diploma in Social Work from Conestoga College; where she met Kevin. Beloved wife to Kevin Tessner; loved daughter to Linda Clare and the late Brian Campbell (1996); cherished granddaughter to Stan Johnson and the late Evelyn; dear sister to Sean and Anetta Campbell; aunt to Riley and Catherine. She will be missed by cats Trickster, Timbit and Marshmallow. Friends to be received at the Ayr Chapel, Wm. Kipp Funeral Home, 183 Northumberland St., Ayr, on Friday from 2-4 and 7-9 p.m. Funeral Services to be held in the chapel on Saturday at 11 a.m., Rev. Keith Sutherland officiating. Interment at Ayr Cemetery. Donations to the Huntington Society of Canada would be appreciated. Online condolences or donations may be arranged through www.wmkippfuneralhome.com or by contacting Wm. Kipp, 519-632-8228.

Memorial photo set on Flickr

Farewell My Love

2007-12-27T01:31:00.002-05:00

So Tammy is gone. She passed away yesterday, December 26th, shortly before 10:00 a.m.

And I don't get it.

On the 24th mom and I picked her up at the nursing home and went to her grandpa Stan's for Christmas dinner with her family, I had her home overnight that night, opened presents with her on Christmas morning, watched two of her favorite movies, then went to mom's for another Christmas dinner. She had such a great time, we all did, and everything seemed so normal as I tucked her into bed at the nursing home that evening. Then yesterday, just 12 hours after I tucked her in and we'd both said 'I love you'; my phone rang me awake, I checked my voicemail, and learned that she was gone.

And I don't get it.

I'm so happy she enjoyed her last days with us; I've always said "Tam lived for Christmas", but I certainly never meant that literally. Tonight I look around and see all the 'leftovers'; the syringe and cups in the drainboard from her meds, the tube feed kit in the garbage, leftover tomato soup in the fridge that I was feeding her just the day before, and the wheelchair tracks on the carpet. I just can't comprehend how she could be here, and fine, and then gone just like that; and I can never say "goodbye", "you're cute", or "I love you" to her ever again. It's really the perfect way that this could have ended, and yet it's just so damned hard to be happy right now. 24 hours ago she was alive, loved, content; and now... yeah.

I love you Mrs. Tammy Jane Campbell, from the first day I set eyes on you to the last moment I said goodbye, and forever more. Sleep well pretty girl, sleep well.

< Previous HD Next HD >

Found

2007-11-27T10:45:00.000-05:00

Guess I owe you an update on the cemetery situation with dad. I got an e-mail on Nov 18th confirming that the stone has been located and placed. I asked if it was in the location where dad was interned last fall or in the location indicated on the map that Tammy and I had been shown when we purchased the plots; they responded that it was in the mapped location and also attached a picture showing the labelled vault in open ground (the urn is in the vault) with the stone beside it. While some might consider such a photo to be a bit grim, I was actually glad that they had sent it because my next question would have been if they had located dad as well as the stone. Without the photo I'd have had lingering doubts about whether dad was really with the stone or not, now my mind is at rest (yay!) So thank you cemetery staff; thank you!

On Locker Room Nudity

2007-11-27T10:44:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I've rejoined the Y after a few years absence and they've re-modeled the locker rooms in the meantime. The most notable change? Dividers between the showers with curtains you can pull across the front for privacy. WTF? About half of the showers are still old-school open style ones, and I just use those because I picture all the weird scums and moulds and shit that must be growing in the corners of those stalls. (You can't tell me that they receive a good top to bottom bleaching that gets into all the nooks and crannies of those divider brackets on anything near to a regular basis.) There's just like one guy in his 60's and me that use the open showers now, and everyone else just sort of looks at us like we're carrying the plague. When did this happen? Why did this happen?

As a child of the 70's I always feel like I live in the future, but I always expected that that future would be co-ed; not pru-ed. Is it because we're more open and accepting of gays? Do straight people now feel like gays are everywhere, checking us out if we dare to shower openly in our own locker rooms? (Personally I'd find that to be a huge complement!) Why is it that the guys who grew up in the straight laced 40's and 50's have no issues with this, while the guys that grew up in the freewheeling 80's and 90's now cover themselves for every possible second that they can while getting changed at the gym?

I have to admit, I just don't get it...

Release me

2007-11-11T10:40:00.001-05:00

So I'm supposed to be partying with my friends right now. They're all at Zone having a great time and I'm sitting in the parking lot of a fucking McDonalds with no clue what to do with myself. I was with them, and we were all having a great time, but then suddenly I just felt so overwhelmed by the same old shit that I just had to get out of there.

I hate this. It's not the first time it's happened either. It hit me in Montreal too last month and ruined an otherwise perfect weekend. One minute I'm surrounded by friends, and music, and lights; and everything just feels so amazing and then boom -- I'm instantly massively overwhelmed by these feelings of being so fucking alone.

It's like... I just want to be able to share this experience with somebody; special. To just reach out and give them a kiss or a squeeze or whatever and know that they're feeling it too; having this same incredible time with me. But I can't -- Tammy's not here with me. Can't be. Won't be. Won't. Ever. Be.

I can't even tell her about it after the fact... I'm so afraid that she'll end up feeling the same feelings of loss that overwhelm me, and I don't want her to suffer that too. She still seems to get pleasures out of the life that she has now despite all of the losses. Always happy, always smiling. It's like this thing that's stolen her brain; that's stealing her life; also takes any capacity for her to recognize or mourn over the loss. Her approach to life has the same innocence and wonderment as a child, always happy about what is instead of sad about what isn't. I really can't dare do anything that risks breaking that spell.

So what do I do? Unable to move forward, unable to move behind. I just want out but there is no way out. She has to die and I don't want that; or I have to die and I don't want that. (Though it's sure been on my mind a lot lately and I wish these thoughts would just go the fuck away.)

I want to be out but how do I get out? How do I enjoy life? Who the fuck do I get to share it with -- the joy, the pain, love? I so don't want to be alone anymore but when I start this car and leave this parking lot; no matter where I go, I am still going to be. Fuck. FUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKK!

Okay so it's been an hour. I need out of this lot. I'm going; somewhere. Wish me luck.

< Previous HD Next HD >

Funny story, they've lost dad...

2007-11-06T09:38:00.000-05:00

So last year when dad's ashes were interned, it had seemed to me that the place where they'd broke ground did not match my memory of the plots that Tammy and I had purchased. It was in the correct general area along the back bank under a tree like I remembered, but on the left edge of a major section boundary whereas I remembered a different tree about 10 columns to the right.

Last week mom got a call that the stone was finally in place, so on Saturday we headed out to the cemetery with neighbours Rosemary and Rosemary in tow. All year long we could never quite find the exact location, since it was on an empty corner and the grass had healed well in the spring. Now with the stone finally in place we figured we'd know exactly where dad is. Wrong. The stone was not to be found. I called the administrator on my cell and with the cemetery being in such a small and friendly town she was on site with the map in about 10 minutes. After consulting the map she then led us to the place I remembered from when Tammy and I had purchased the plots. Oops. And the punchline? The stone wasn't there either!

She apologized profusely and explained that the last bill from the caretaker had included the stone placement charges, so she'd called mom assuming that the work had been done. After promising to call the caretaker to find out what's happened to the stone, I then told her about the mismatch between our plots and the burial location as we recall it. She promises to get to the bottom of that too, and I've e-mailed her my photos from last year to help with the investigation.

Fortunately mom has taken it all in stride and doesn't seem upset by this at all, I was really worried about that when I realized the scope of what happened. Effectively, they've lost dad!

MMP? I vote no!

2007-10-10T08:44:00.000-04:00

I was hoping to put together a nice studied essay about why I'm voting no to the Mixed Member Proportional referendum. But yeah, that didn't happen. So now it's voting day and I at least want to get something out there, so forgive me if this one rambles a bit...

A year ago, long before I'd ever heard of MMP, a friend of mine came back from a vacation trip to New Zealand. He was there for over a month and drove from top to bottom; and being more politically aware than I; was smart enough to ask the local Kiwis about their MMP system wherever he went.

In a word, it's crap. The core candidates in each party are on the top of the proportional list, and people are stuck with them election after election after election, no matter how hated they may become. The folks they actually can vote for tend to have very little voice within the parties they represent and basically just back-bench for them. They've had nothing but minority governments (their word is coalition) since the introduction of MMP, so basically, nothing ever gets done quickly and costs way more than it should by the time it does get done.

The yes side's strongest point is that it will give a more representative government to minorities and rural areas. Why? The minorities point is basically a bigoted statement that says "Hey, these people can't get elected any other way." a) I strongly resent that, and b) if it were true, why would they be more likely to be selected by their party for the proportional list, and not just on the list but near the top, where placement actually gets them a seat? They wouldn't be. Nothing in the proposed MMP legislation gives minorities any more of a voice. As for rural areas the number of ridings would be REDUCED under MMP, meaning less rural seats and less chance for rural legislation to come about.

Democracy is not about the power of the vote, it's about the power of the fear of the next vote. Under either system, your vote says very little about your beliefs or how you feel on any of the major issues, it's just a multiple choice where you pick the lessor of two or three evils. Where your voice really counts is between elections. When you let your representative, WHETHER YOU VOTED FOR THEM OR NOT, know how you feel. That keeps the fear in them; that keeps them honest. The 39 proposed MMP seats are not directly elected in any riding, and fear of a single vote, your vote, is greatly reduced.

I hated it when the PC candidate was elected to my riding in the last federal election; not that I love the Liberals, but again; it was a lessor of three evils thing. Like it or not though, he is my representative, and I've made sure to keep him up to date on how I feel about gay marriage, climate change, tax breaks versus debt reduction, etc. He doesn't know, and doesn't need to know, how I voted in the last election. I can assure you that he does care a lot about how I'll vote in the next one. And that's how my voice gets heard. With MMP, 30% of our 'elected' representatives (from the top of the lists and no doubt the movers and shakers of their parties) don't have to care. Ouch!

In the end, with MMP, you might see one or two seats held by non-traditional parties, but that's basically about it. The price we'll pay is an endless series of minority governments where that one green guy or pot girl who now has a seat is as powerless and irrelevant to the overall process as they've always been. (Forgot to mention it above but my friend reports that down NZ way, a lot of time in parliament is wasted voting down ridiculous legislation proposed by the new fringe seats.) Real change, even on crucial issues, will suddenly take decades instead of years and cost a lot more to implement due to the wonderful magic of inflation.

Yeah, uhm, no thanks!

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Even if you don't traditionally go out and cast a vote, politics is something you're likely to grow into at some point. (You sure couldn't have told me 10 years ago that I'd give a shit.) The results of this referendum is something we'll have to live with for a long time, so read about it, think about it, vote on it.

...K

Souvenirs

2007-09-28T19:18:00.000-04:00

My favourite column has got to be Ask The Pilot by Patrick Smith on Salon.com. For airline press it can't be beat but it always gets particularly interesting when he takes time for a diversion. This one, on esoteric souvenirs, really strikes a chord:

Souvenirs from hell: The keepsakes we most treasure don't always come with a clear conscience

I'm a Salon member; but if memory serves the rest of you can just click through an ad to get to his article.

To the victors go the rights to distort

2007-08-30T11:24:00.000-04:00

I saw this article in the Globe and Mail, Fighting words rile historians, about veteran's complaints about a plaque on the fire bombing of Dresden leading to that plaque being changed. I'm ashamed to be Canadian to think that our war museum would re-word a statement of fact in the face of political pressure. Just because it took bravery and sacrifice to do something, doesn't mean that that something was right. Wasn't it freedom they were fighting for? Where is our freedom when facts are suppressed in deference to those with the loudest voice? Sigh.