Spring Break Boredom!

Last Saturday morning there was a loud knock on my door. No one had buzzed from the street so I figured it was someone from within the building, perhaps something strata related, as I am on my strata council, plus it was a pretty determined knock, so I went to answer it, even though it was approaching the ninetieth minute of Arsenal-Middlesbrough with the scores level at 1-1. I opened the door to two young girls, perhaps one was 12 the other 10, I'm not sure as I'm not very good with guessing the ages of anyone under 23.

Me: Hello?
Them: Hello. Can you give us a word for our dictionary of made up words?
Me: What?
Them: We're making a list of made up words.
Me (stalling for time): Umm?
Them (standing there looking at me, not saying anything, waiting): silencio
Me (stalling for time): What's this for?
Them: It's spring break and we're bored (editor's note: what the hell?)
Me (stalling for time): What do you have so far?
Them (wondering why I won't just give them a word): blah, blah, blah, blah (Okay I don't remember what they said, they weren't actually just repeating the word blah)
Me (bored with this conversation): I don't really have anything.
Them (not taking no for an answer): If you had some time to think about it would you be able to come up with something?
Me (wanting them to go away so I could go back to watching second half injury time in the Arsenal game, with the Arsenal level and pressing for a winner): Maybe.
Them (not understanding what I'm not saying): Okay, we'll come back in ten minutes.

So, I went back to my computer to see the game had ended, still 1-1, and then tried to make up a word. I even went to a website of made up words, not to plagiarise but hopefully to be inspired. Nothing. They knocked again and despite not having a word yet, I answered the door again.

Me (thinking but not saying "there's no way in hell that was ten minutes"): Hello.
Them (waiting with excitement and anticipation): Do you have a word yet?
Me (not having a word yet): No.
Them (not impressed by me not having a word for them): silencio
Me (not impressed by them just standing there unimpressed by me): But I do have a definition for one.
Them (slightly less unimpressed): What is it?
Me (hungry): The inability to think when under pressure.
Them (thinking quickly): How about unthinkissure? (sp?)
Me (thinking that with more time I could come up with something better but not wanting to actually take the time to come up with something better): Sure.

So there you have it, my contribution to spring break and the English language.

CANCELLED!

I've just learnt that St. Patrick's Day has been cancelled this year. In the church calendar this is holy week, which takes precedent over any saint's days, thus, no St. Patrick's Day. So, turn off your Dubliner's albums, take off your green, cork your Jameson's, and get back to work.

Teen Angst Poetry!

I went to the Railway Club last night for Teen Angst Poetry. It's a somewhat regularly occurring (now the second Tuesday of every month at the Railway) open mic night. People get up and read from their journals from the darkest and deepest corners of their teenage years. They tell of their anxieties, of how no one understands nor will ever understand them, of how they'll be alone forever, of how Kevin likes them, of how sad everyone will be when they're gone, of true ever-lasting love, of how Kevin no longer likes them, of marshmallow horses (seriously), of how cold and lonely this world is, you get the idea. Some people took themselves a little too seriously, some people thought they were a lot funnier than they actually were, but for the most part it was just good and funny. A lot reminded me of my own teenaged deep and tragic poetic musings and it made me really want to read through them again. Not on stage, just to myself. But alas, those journals are in another city right now. Woe is me...

My Irish Pub Crawl

Spanning a number of days, cities, islands and, of course, pints...

Uisce Beatha!

I'm just after going to the Old Jameson's Distillery. There was a brief tour through the building where Jameson's was distilled for almost 200 years before moving to near Cork. But most importantly included in the admission price was a sample of Jameson's at the end. But even better than that, I was chosen as one of 6 volunteer whiskey/whisky tasters. First we sampled three different Irish whiskeys; Powers, Paddy, & Jameson's. From those we had to choose our favourite. Not surprisingly, we all chose Jameson's. No pressure, seriously. Though I must say, I'd be interested in trying Paddy again. Mellow stuff. Then we had to compare our favourite Irish whiskey to the number one selling Scotch in the world. (Johnny Walker Red Label, should you care) Then we compared the Irish whiskey to the number one selling bourbon in the world. (Any guesses?) Then we had to choose our favourite from the three international whiskeys. I can keep the 'e' as no one chose the Scotch. Even the Scotsman, though I think he chose the Jameson's a little begrudgingly. Again not surprisingly, all six of us chose the Jameson's. So there you have it, scientifically proven, Jameson's is the best whiskey in the world. Okay, there was no rye whiskey involved, nor a whole host of better, longer aged whiskey's but you get my point. And now, I'm an accredited whiskey taster. I even have the certificate to prove it.

Kilkenny vs. Guinness

I was in a pub last night called Tynan's Bridge House in Kilkenny. Being in Kilkenny I was drinking a pint of Kilkenny. Earlier that night I'd had a Smithwick's, also from Kilkenny. So, I was standing at the bar, drinking my Kilkenny, chatting with an Irishman and a Welshman. Doesn't that sound like a joke? ACanadian, an Irishman, and a Welshman are at a bar...? Actually, the Welshman did tell me a joke: What's the difference between an Irishman and a Welshman? I don't know what, I asked. One of them learned how to swim? Which one, I asked. Well, that's up for debate. Alright, it isn't really much of a joke, or at least it isn't a funny one. Anyhow, I was standing there talking to those two when along came Paddy Ryan. Seriously. From Calgary, no less. Seriously. Paddy was there as a representative of Arthur Guinness' fine Dublin based brewery. It was his job to sign up people to come to that particular pub for the next three Tuesdays. In return they'd get a free pint of Guinness each week and if they went all three they'd get a Guinness windbreaker. I was unable to commit to that, though I'd have liked to, but he then took it upon himself to show me why I should be drinking Guinness rather than the locally brewed libation. I mean to say he gave me a free pint, charged to Guinness, or rather to whatever non-Irish multinational it is that owns Guinness now. I'm not a huge fan of Kilkenny to begin with, and I am a huge fan of free pints of beer and of Guinness, so needless to say, I was easily convinced. Good work, Paddy!

A Football Fan's Delight

I just finished watching Arsenal's resumption in the Champion's League after it's too long winter break in a not very good bar on O'Connell Street in Dublin. There were hundreds of people crammed in there watching a number of television screens that had all four of today's matches. In a word: awesome. There being so many people in there insured that each of the eight clubs playing had a good vocal following. I, of course, was watching the Arsenal vs. AC Milan match which included the long awaited Dudu vs. Kaka match up. That match produced no goals so there was little more than Italians yelling at the screen and one irate Arsenal fan to whom everyone that wasn't an Arsenal player was a wanker. Fenerbhace vs. Sevilla ended 2-2 so there were chances for the assembled Spaniards and Turks to yell and sing, as with the Lyon-Manchester United match that ended 1-1, though with French and English/Irish respectively. The best match however was Celtic vs. Barcelona which ended 2-3. Celtic seems to be the adopted club of many Irishmen so when Celtic went ahead twice, a large portion of the bar erupted into singing, all in unison. Also there seemed to be a large Catalan contingent as Barcelona's 3 goals where each met with a chorus. All in all, a good evening for some football. Shame Adebayor didn't put that header away rather than put it off the bar.

Blowout!

In CONCACAF World Cup qualifying today, apparently El Salvador beat Antiguilla 12-0. I say apparently because though I've been to El Salvador and can vouch for its existence, I'm not sure I've heard of Antiguilla before. Generally, I'm pretty good with geography, so if I've not heard of some place it is probably fictional. Which means that as far as I'm concerned, El Salvador was playing a game of football against a team that doesn't really exist. Which means that in 90 minutes against an empty field and, more particularly, against an empty net they could only score twelve goals. You know what that means? El Salvador sucks. I'm pretty sure that in 90 minutes I could score at least 90 goals against an empty net. That even includes time for me to get bored, leave, go drink some beer or coffee, go to the bathroom, eat a sandwich, make a prank call about your refrigerator running, hit on your sister, and then score a bunch more goals. I'm that good.

The Editors

I went to see the Editors last night at the Commodore. I only caught the tail end of the first opening band, Louis XIV, who I hadn't heard before. They weren't bad, so I'll have to check out more of them. Hot Hot Heat were the second band and while I had heard them before, they don't do too much for me. Definitely lots of energy in their performance though. And the lead singer said that his doctor had told him he couldn't sing for a couple of weeks and they'd have to cancel shows but he couldn't not play the Vancouver show. (Aww, shucks, I bet he says that to all the crowds.) Finally, the Editors came on. It's at times like this (right now, writing this) when I feel my lack of music journalist potential as I have nothing interesting or intelligent to say about the band and their performance beyond that I loved the show. I like seeing bands perform songs that I like. Simple as that. They were great...heck, I even liked the stage lighting. At times I felt like I was watching a flickering black and white film clip. (Seriously, no drugs were taken by me.) Anyhow, a good show.

Ian Curtis Watch: In the way that all new up and coming Argentine footballers are compared to Maradona, it seems all up and coming British singers with a deep voice and moody, somewhat depressing music are compared to Ian Curtis. And while there may be a bit of Ian going on in Tom Smith (is that natural or cultivated spasticity?), I'd say for the most part he's doing and will continue to do his own thing.

A Late Christmas Gift...

I received the first half of my Christmas gift from a friend of mine yesterday. Yes, I'm aware it's now February, what of it?

Here it is:
It's a set of four Bob-Marley-Playing-Football table place mats. And really, I can't think of a more appropriate gift for me, as it combines three of my favourite things in the entire world:

1)Football
2)Jamaican Music
3)Food

If only we could work coffee and girls into it somehow, we'd be set. And now I need to get enough chairs for my dining room table so that I can actually have people over for dinner and show them off.

The Beginnings of Senility?

A couple of weeks ago, for dinner, I made a broccoli, tofu and udon dish. I often make this simple yet tasty dish. In fact, I made it again tonight. Stir-fry the broccoli, add the tofu and noodles and then the sauce. The only remotely complicated part of it is getting the sauce to thicken with cornstarch. This is not at all difficult, but if one had to choose the most difficult stage of the process, this would be it. And yet, on this night a couple of weeks ago the sauce just wouldn't thicken. The only thing I could think of was that I hadn't used enough cornstarch. So, I added more of it. Still no luck. No problem, I just decided I'd eat it with the runny sauce. Or at least try to...because for some reason it tasted nasty. And I mean nasty. Nasty enough that I threw the whole thing out. We're talking about a guy whose ex-roommates would be pleased when he was gone as it meant they didn't have to eat or could throw out the vegetables that they considered to be off but were well within the realm of edible for me. And to think I did most of the cooking for those ingrates. Anyhow, I digress. Nasty, nasty tasting business...the whole thing went into the garburator. Speaking of which, you probably didn't know it but the word garburator is a canadianism. I'm assuming you didn't know that because I didn't know that until a few moments ago and chances are that if I didn't know it, you didn't either. There you go, now this blog is educational. And yet again, I digress. So, I couldn't figure out what had gone wrong. Runny sauce wouldn't have altered the taste that much, certainly not enough to make it disgustingly inedible. The only thing I could think of was that perhaps the broccoli had been a little off. Anyhow, I ended up eating something else for dinner and didn't think much more about it. A few days later I was straightening up the kitchen a little, putting some things that I'd left out away, tidying up, etc. And I just couldn't figure out why the baking soda was out on the counter. But as I put it away it donned on me...it was sitting right in the spot where I might have left a box of cornstarch, had I had one out any time recently. And apparently I hadn't. Damn. Is it all down hill from here?

The Best Albums of 2007

It's list time again. Actually, it's probably past list time already, but my list is ready now, so now is when you get it. Like last year's list, this is in no particular order.

Wincing the Night Away by The Shins
I finished last years list by saying I expected the Shins' new album to be a mainstay of my listening for the upcoming year and indeed it was. My brother reminded me to make sure I included the album in the list because he was concerned that I had forgotten it was actually released in 2007. I didn't forget that fact nor would I let the little fact of a release date get in my way.

Reggae Hit L.A. by The Aggrolites
High energy ska/reggae and one of the best live shows I saw this year. It's clear that these guys love the music they're playing and they know the roots of the music well.

Lightning Dust by Lightning Dust
A side project by two members of Black Mountain. Amber Webber's voice haunts me.

Cease to Begin by Band of Horses
When I first heard this album I didn't think I liked it as much as Everything All The Time, my favourite album of last year. I wasn't sure if I even liked it at all. However, maybe it's just iPod laziness, but I find myself listening to it again and again.

100 Days, 100 Nights by Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings
Do you like good music, that sweet soul music? Well, cats, this is the real deal.

Street Gospels by Bedouin Soundclash
A friend of mine wrote the band off as a little too college, but I like them. And maybe this album is a little too religified, but I like it as well.

The Shepherd's Dog by Iron & Wine
This is alt-country meets Ali Farka Toure. At least that's what it sounds like to me. The song Resurrection Fern is brilliant.

Gulag Orkestar by Beirut
This album came out in May '06? Whatever, I didn't hear it until early in '07. It makes me feel lost in an Eastern European carnival, which isn't a bad place to get lost, really.

Calligraffiti by Grand Analog
Honestly, I haven't even heard the majority of this album. But no matter, because the song Around This Town is super-awesome enough to merit a spot on the list.

Si, Para Usted: The Funky Beats of Revolutionary Cuba by Various Artists
It's Cuban, it's revolutionary, and yes, it's funky. What's not to like?

Writer's Block by Peter Bjorn & John
Another 2006 release that I didn't hear until 2007 (I'm with it, just not that with it.) Just try and get the whistling part from Young Folks out of your head.

Ongiara by Great Lake Swimmers
My mancrush on Tony Dekker aside, this is a damn good album. It was my introduction to the band and spurred me to get their prior two albums; all three of them got a lot of my listening time in 2007. If I sort my iTunes list by play count, Great Lake Swimmers is at the top...against music that has been in there much longer. I know I said this list was in no order, but this was, hands down, my favourite album of the year. And it, along with the others, along with any new albums he may yet release, will be my among favourites in time to come. Sorry, I've apparently gone all fan-boy.

That's the list or at least that's all I can think of right now. But here are some honourable mentions:
Postcards & Daydreaming by Dan Mangan
La Radiolina by Manu Chao
Oh, My Darling by Basia Bulat
Skelliconnection by Chad VanGaalen
Studio One Rub-A-Dub by Various Artists
Dynamite Dancehall Style by Various Artists

A bunch of others too. It was a good year for music. But then, aren't they all? If you think I've left anything out (and I know you do, Pete, Sparky...) feel free to comment.

Crazy for You...A Case Study.

I've been going to physiotherapy the past few weeks. Other than the time when I went probably reeking of booze from the previous night's work Christmas party in spite of my shower it's been going well. As I lie on the table, my head on the pillow, suction cups attached to my leg sending currents of electricity through it, I do what I do when I'm lying in a room. I count things. There is a kind of fake wood paneling on the wall to my right but because of the angle of the table I'm not really able to count the panels. The left wall is flat drywall with two picture hooks, no picture and discolouration on the wall where there once was a picture. The wall behind me, I can't see. The wall in front of me has two windows that are, to my eye anyhow, the same size. I haven't actually measured them, that would be full on crazy. However, the window on the left side has thirteen vertical blinds while the right side window has only twelve. As for the ceiling, it is made up of eight full false ceiling tiles in two columns of four each plus four partial false ceiling tiles, two at each end. Of the eight complete tiles, seven of them have the same texture while one has it's own. It is clear that this room is not part of the original construction but is that any kind of excuse for asymmetry? I thought not. Anyhow, I'm sure you can imagine how all of this distresses me as I lie there, trying to heal. Surely it can't help. Umm, you can imagine that, right? Hey, come back here!

Crazy for you...

Here are a few things, in no particular order, that I am crazy about. And by crazy about I don't mean I like these things a lot, I mean I'm nutso:

1)When I'm drinking I often have a need to either place my glass or cup dead centre on the coaster or to line it up against some design or feature, usually a line, on the table. Anyone who has had a drink with me and who is either somewhat observant or has seen Paul try and move my glass when I'm not looking knows this about me.

2)Sometimes I feel a need to tap trees or poles as I walk by them.

3)When taking a newspaper from the newspaper box I have a very difficult time taking the paper from the top. The second one will do though I prefer to go down a few further. If it is a broadsheet style paper I won't take it unless the various sections are all lined up and tightly packed. If it is a tabloid or berliner style paper I won't take it unless the top and bottom are, for the most part, even. I will then take the paper, fold it, and put it in my backpack at which point if it is a broadsheet style paper the various sections may not remain lined up and tightly packed and if it is a tabloid or berliner style paper the top and bottom may not remain even. This apparent contradiction does not bother me.

4)When sitting in a room, no matter how many times I have been in that room, I will count ceiling tiles or venetian blind slats or anything similar that I am able to count. I am pleased if I discover that different windows have the same number of blinds and bonus points are scored if I can discern a not very obvious pattern in tiles.

5)I don't mind stepping on sidewalk or walkway cracks as long as I can step on all of them or at least step on some of them at a regular occurrence. If this is not possible I will attempt to step on none of them and I will adjust my gait accordingly to achieve this.

6)When driving or being a passenger in a car I like to count the broken lines on the centre of the road. For a reason unknown to me, though possibly it has something to do with the majority of modern music being in 4/4 time, I count the broken lines in fours. I am very pleased when the lines pass in accordance with the beat of whatever music I happen to be listening to and I'm also very pleased when the final line in a section corresponds with a four in my count.

7)When I'm drinking coffee from a paper cup with a lid the seam of both the java jacket and the cup need to be directly opposite the mouth hole of the lid. If I'm not using a lid, I still need the seam to be directly at the back of the cup so that my finger tips touch it. If I'm drinking coffee from my travel mug I need the mouthpiece to be at a 90 degree angle to the handle with the handle to the right side. If I'm drinking coffee while driving in my car, I prefer to place the cup in the passenger side coffee holder. If I actually have a passenger I may let this one slide as I wouldn't want the passenger to think that I am, in fact, crazy.

Be It Resolved...Revisited.

Since writing about my resolutions I've been thinking about them some more, particularly the one about being more open. While I do think that openness and honesty are good things, I keep asking myself why I feel like I should be more open? It's not like I am a branch of government where transparency is required...I am an individual, a very private individual. I let those that are close to me in to varying degrees and those that I don't, well, what's going on inside of me is none of their god damned business. Of course, what can you expect from someone who told his mother while in kindergarten that what he did in class was his own business and not hers?

Alright, maybe there is some room for improvement...

Be It Resolved...

I think it's perfectly natural for people to make resolutions at this time of year. Modern secular technological society leaves little time for pause and reflection. As we become more and more devoid of rites and rituals, those things that mark the passage of time for us, it seems normal to me that at the one time of year when the passage of time is apparent and obvious to all we would look back and reflect. And in reflecting we would find fault with our past selves and endeavour to become better versions of ourselves. Thus, the new year's resolution.

I also think it's perfectly natural for people to fail at those resolutions. At root we are pretty lazy beings and meaningful change requires hard work.

That said, here's what I've come up with from my year end reflections, some things I'd like to work on but may fail miserably at:

To be more honest. Actually, I'm already pretty honest I'm just not very open. So I guess the resolution should be: To be more open. That seems to go against my nature though, as I'm a fairly closed and very private person. We'll see how that one goes.

To watch less television. I don't even have a television and I feel like I need to watch less of it.

To read more. I already read a fair bit, I just feel like I should do more of it. Bigger, better books. Like Ulysses and The History of Western Philosophy.

To cook more. I like cooking and I do a fair bit of it as well. I just feel like I should do more.

To write more. If this works out, lucky you guys, more of my ramblings for you.

To be less cynical. A friend recently said of some of my photographs that I take ugly things and make them beautiful. I think I need to do that with people. I need to look for the good things inside them instead of just assuming they're jerkwads. Of course, my response to my friend's comment was that I think those things are ugly, they just look cool, so we'll see how that one goes.

To be more angry. That may seem incongruous with the previous resolution but I don't mean to become a bitter and surly person. I just think I need to be angry at the things that I tolerate but don't really approve of, as being angry about them may inspire me to do something about them, whereas accepting or putting up with them leads to no change at all and me becoming, well, a bitter and surly person. The thing I intend to be angriest about? Not the fact that there's no coffee here at work right now, though I may get to that. No, it's modern-post-industrial-technological society's (or whatever we're now calling this thing in which we live) way of isolating us, making us disillusioned and unengaged and making our lives devoid of excitement, randomness and meaning. What the hell is wrong with us that half of the people I know are either miserable or depressed half of the god damned time?

Well, I think that's enough for now. Apparently I've got some work to do.

Dodgy ID...

...or How Swimming Saved My Christmas.

It's 6h40 on December 24th. I'm very tired. I've had about two and a half hours sleep. I'm in a line slowly moving towards the counter to show my ID and boarding pass and get on a plane to take me to Ontario for Christmas. About 3 people away from the person who wants to see my ID, I realise I don't have my ID. Two nights prior I had taken it out of my wallet along with my bank card and put it in my smaller more compact much cooler Run DMC wallet which I like to use when I'm going out somewhere that a large wallet bulge in my pants pocket might be unseemly or just plain unattractive or when I just don't need my library card, my MEC card, my VES card, my ACCT card, my Rider's Sushi card and twenty different coffee cards. I'm usually pretty good about putting it back into my wallet, but the previous day when I took the money from my wallet to head out to watch el Gran Classico I hadn't fully recovered from the previous evening and the two cards only made it to the table. Anyhow, I'm now one person away from needing to show that which I don't have, I'm tired, I'm panicking, it's Christmas Eve, I'm flying home, it's 20 minutes until take-off, there's no way in hell I can make it back to my house to get my id and make it back to the airport in time, I'll be spending Christmas Eve alone all because I was too damn stupid to make sure I had everything I needed. When I get to the woman who needs to see my id, I still have the look of panic on my face, I begin to plead my case...I'm holding my wallet open, looking too tired, scared, dumb-founded, and I say: "I just realised I don't have my driver's license with me." I don't know what I expected her to say but it wasn't: "Oh, that'll do," while pointing at my wallet. Which is what she did say. The "that" in question? My Vancouver Parks Board Flexipass. Luckily it happened to be on the top of the pile of cards in my wallet as I would never have thought of it. The only reason I have the card in the first place is because of ongoing bouts of acute tendinopothy and medial tibial stress syndrome that have prevented me from running and cycling the past few months. I had been doing nothing until my doctor told me to hit the pool. I was leery about beginning swimming for a couple of reasons. First of all, I can't really swim. That's not quite true, I can swim and since I've been doing it more regularly I'm improving but my body isn't really designed for swimming. I sink. The thing that keeps me afloat is the air in my lungs. As that goes, so does my buoyancy. I can actually lie on the bottom of a swimming pool without having to try to keep myself down. That's just where my body wants to go. The second reason is that becoming an active swimmer would mean that I actively participate in all three of the disciplines involved in triathlon which would only add fuel to the fire for certain friends of mine that are trying to bully me into doing Ironman 2009. But I digress. I had only been swimming for a couple of months and it was pure luck/blind chance that the card was on top of the pile. Aviation Canada requires all passengers to show government issued identification in order to board a plane. Technically speaking, the Vancouver Parks Board is a level of government, and the card in question has both my photo and my name so it is identification, but, well, let's just say the process involved in getting such a card isn't the most stringent. Anyhow, I got on my plane, flew home and had a good Christmas with my family and friends, all because of some dodgy ID. Or because of some dodgy running shoes made by (snip...could incur lawsuit~ed.) that caused the injuries which forced me to hit the pool in the first place. What am I trying to say here? I'm not really sure, something about cause and effect, or maybe nothing at all, maybe I'm just amused by the story. Yeah, I think that's it.

Oscar Peterson R.I.P.

Elf Yourself!

Click on the photo...it's me and two of my closest friends as dancing elves.

Evel Knievel R.I.P.