Good evening,
How is everyone?Busy I assume, what with it being that special time of year again,when families get together and we all get that warm feeling in the cockles of our hearts,maybe below the cockles,maybe in the sub-cockle area,maybe in the liver,maybe even in the colon...well...and of course when we throw vicious elbows into each others heads,and gouge eyes when necessary,in our bid to finish the last of our christmas shopping.
I'm alright,working working working as usual. The slaughtered lamb has been decarated,christmas trees erected in all its dark corners,lights strung across the bar,garland wrapped around poles and pillars.It looks nice. I started my music store job and its goin good. I work with some decent people,although really I just met them,they could all be criminals and vagrants for all I really know. But they seem nice. I get to choose the music now and again. Which is always the highlight of my day. I snuck in a little Tom Waits this afternoon and have been playing the arcade fire regularly. I try and play as much Canadian music as possible.Unfortunately the flipside to that coin is that I have to endure a lot of girls aloud and james blunt and will young and it makes me want to slam my thumb in a door just to take away the pain.
I also realized I forgot my charlie brown christmas cd at home. The greatest christmas music of all time. I also realized,much to my dismay,that the english don't do egg nogg. What the hell? So I'm going to attempt to make my own without accidentally poisoning myself.
What else? I can't believe Montreals luck!!!???They finally get it together after too many years of mediocre hockey,taking full advantage of the new NHL and the return of skilled hockey, and what happens?They lose Koivu,Kovalev and Bonk to injury. Luckily the Maple Leafs are struggling too,at least I have that to fall back on. I have a good feeling about the canadians now though. Now that their fast,finesse players have the space to move on the ice,I think they'll only get better. Vive les habitants!!!!
Anyway, New years in edinburgh is fast approaching!!!Get in!!!!I have my brand new boogie shoes laced and ready. Can't wait to see everyone again. Its going to beat the snot out of last new years eve,thats for damn sure. Considering I spent it by myself in a security booth in -30 degree weather that wouldn't be very hard.
Well,hope your all doin fine,hopefully I'll talk to you all soon before or on the big day.
Later skaters:)
p.s I finally heard Bjorks album Medula and its oddly brilliant. She never used any instruments. She just had people doin human beat box noises while she sang. Its friggin crazy but beautiful.
C.D of the week: A Charlie Brown Christmas. I can't believe they don't sell it here.
Book of the week: When the women come out by elmore leonard.
Film of the week: The exorcism of emily rose. Creepy and thought provoking,stellar performances by the girl who played emily and Tom Wilkinson as the priest. I love all that good vs evil stuff.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
An excerpt taken from McSweeneys' online magazine that I found very amusing.
ALTERNATE NAMES FOR " I C A N ' T B E L I E V E I T ' S N O T B U T T E R "
By Bob Shea
"Not butter? Then what the hell did I just eat?" Spread.
"I still say it's butter" Spread.
After all the damage you've done to this family with your habitual lying and deceit, you have the nerve to sit there with a straight face and tell me that this isn't butter?" Spread.
"I'm pretty sure that was butter" Spread.
"I'm comfortable calling this butter" Spread.
"This challenges everything I've come to believe about butter" Spread.
"I'm not Entirely Sure it's Edible" Spread.
"I'm willing to suspend disbelief about this being butter for about as long as it takes me to eat this toast" Spread.
"In the absence of actual butter, sure, I'll play along" Spread
"I guess you could call it butter. If you don't put any in your mouth" Spread.
"From a distance, you'd swear it's butter!" Spread.
"I can't believe it's so flammable" Spread.
"I have no reason to believe this isn't butter" Spread.
"Am I wrong about God too?" Spread.
By Bob Shea
"Not butter? Then what the hell did I just eat?" Spread.
"I still say it's butter" Spread.
After all the damage you've done to this family with your habitual lying and deceit, you have the nerve to sit there with a straight face and tell me that this isn't butter?" Spread.
"I'm pretty sure that was butter" Spread.
"I'm comfortable calling this butter" Spread.
"This challenges everything I've come to believe about butter" Spread.
"I'm not Entirely Sure it's Edible" Spread.
"I'm willing to suspend disbelief about this being butter for about as long as it takes me to eat this toast" Spread.
"In the absence of actual butter, sure, I'll play along" Spread
"I guess you could call it butter. If you don't put any in your mouth" Spread.
"From a distance, you'd swear it's butter!" Spread.
"I can't believe it's so flammable" Spread.
"I have no reason to believe this isn't butter" Spread.
"Am I wrong about God too?" Spread.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Hehehe...
"That was better than sex."
-Rock sphincter Tommy Lee explains to Radio1 in England that a near-death experience while parachuting was jolly good fun. Eyewitnesses reported the same euphoria.
Liz Braun, The Toronto Sun
-Rock sphincter Tommy Lee explains to Radio1 in England that a near-death experience while parachuting was jolly good fun. Eyewitnesses reported the same euphoria.
Liz Braun, The Toronto Sun
Friday, November 11, 2005
Some words I wrote a while ago that I just found this morning under a pile of stuff on a shelf:
Untitled(random thoughts):
I think I'm full of shit but I'm going to talk to you anyway. I move from city to city...Victoria, Saskatoon, Cleveland, Brisbane, St. Johns, Christchurch, Leeds, Phoenix, Galway and I walk around with my discman on, the volume turned up, trailing the streets looking, observing, feeling lost and confused and fantastic and lonely. Watching the faces of the people passing by in the silence of my head,scattered songs covering the sounds of their footsteps, of their coughs and quiet words. I see people walking their dogs and I always make eye contact with those brown canine eyes. It feels like the dog and I share a secret, the key to this unsentimental world, but that this secret sits just outside the reach of my conscious mind. I always have my camera with me and every now and then I stop to take a picture. An empty street corner...an old brickwall covered in graffiti and punk rock concert posters...a smiling old man...a child running across a street blurry and unrecognisable...an old dog lying outside a delapidated building that at one point was a bustling Irish pub.
I used to listen to a lot of music that was all screaming, angry noise. Music that was full of violence and mistrust. That was when I was a teenager. That was a long time ago. Now I listen to music that moves me. Singers with voices that teem with emotion and pain and experience and honesty and hope. Singers that play a lot of acoustic guitar. You grow tired of yelling, and being angry and thrashing your head about. I used to love putting on an album and thrashing my head around. I tried it the other day but all I got was a headache. I still carry that mistrust though.
I watch a lot of movies. Comedies, horror films, action films, dramas, westerns, it doesn't matter. I love movies with lots of dialogue. I watch a lot of Richard Linklater movies and get jealous of all the great dialogue. It sounds so natural and effortless. I've never been able to write dialogue that sounded real. When I was a kid all I watched were martial arts movies. Chuck Norris movies like Good guys wear black, Missing in action, Lonewolf McQuade and Code of Silence. Sho Kasuki movies like Revenge of the ninja,Prey for death and Nine deaths of a ninja. I loved Van Damme. I religiously watched movies like Kickboxer,Cyborg,Double impact and death warrent. The same with Seagal and films like Above the law, Out for Justice and hard to kill. But these movies aren't the same now. They don't satisfy me like they did when I was eight or nine.
I've had a guitar for years but still can't play it. I kind of knew how to play Subterrainian homesick blues at one point and I did know how to play the opening chords of Metallicas Nothing else matters but thats as close as I ever got to playing anything. I have trouble sticking to things. Or is that sticking with things? At the sametime I'm tired of consuming other peoples art. I'm tired of listening to other peoples music,watching other peoples movies,reading other peoples books,looking at other peoples paintings. All I've ever done is observe others. In the end where does that get you if thats all you ever do?
I'm tired of roaming these city streets. Tired of being lifes observer. Looking in from the outside. You want to know the worst thing about moving from city to city,country to country,town to town? You can't own a dog or a cat. Your never in one place long enough and it wouldn't be fair to them if you took them with you. dragged them all over the globe on the end of a worn leather leash. Dogs and cats, all animals for that matter, require stability and routine. I had a dog when I was a child and I miss that companionship dearly. That unerring loyalty.
I have a bike locked up in the backyard that I ride everyday. I love the wind in my face,riding until your lungs burn. When I ride that hard I always have to spit a lot. In England you have to ride on the opposite side of the road. English drivers pass by in their little cars uncomfortably close to you. English drivers have very little respect for anyone but themselves and least of all for pedestrians. I should wear a bicycle helmet when I ride but I don't. Humans do a lot of stupid things. Not wearing a bicycle helmet when they ride sits pretty low on the stupid ladder.
I have a lot of stories I want to tell but that moment when you sit down to write one of them scares the shit out of me. Doubts swarm my mind, the old fear sets in and I get sweaty. And time gets shorter and shorter,moving ever faster. And I have no excuses.
I want to set up a dark room. Just a small room. Somewhere I can develop and print my own black and white photographs. I don't think anybody can truly call themselves a photographer, not even an amatuer photographer, until they are developing and printing their own photographs. I registered for a three day course in dark room techniques and I had the chance to develop one photograph. It was a picture I took when I was in Victoria, British Columbia. I was wandering around town one day and while passing through Beacon Hill park I snapped a picture of an oak tree with a bench just behind it a ways. On this bench sat an elderly couple. The bench is just to the left of the tree. The sun is hitting them from behind. On the oak tree kind of out focus you can make out some carvings someone left in the tree. And a heart with an arrow through it sits in the center. When I printed this photograph it accidentally took on this nice sepia tone. I think the photograph is beautiful. It now hangs on a wall in my Nans house and that makes me so proud. That makes me prouder then if it was hanging in the Louvre or the AGO. One of my biggest fears is my Nan not being proud of me. Disappointing her haunts my dreams. Her and my Mom. That fear sits on my shoulders all day long like a great weight.
I love listening to blues and soul. I've spent so long listening to loud ugly music completely unaware that this raw honest gorgeous music existed. Artists like Howlin Wolf,Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson and John Lee Hooker.Nina Simone, Aretha Franklin and Dusty Springfield. Etta James and Billie Holiday. Music that speaks directly to your heart. Directly to the center of your being. Songs and voices filled with love and pain and hurt and hope and strength.
Is there anything in this world more important to ones daily wellbeing then music? I don't think so.
Although I must say writing isn't far behind. :) J.H May 18,2005 4:26pm
A short tale of relief:
An old lady walked up to me today as I was crossing the street. She looked me deep in the eyes and asked if I had any spare change. My heart broke. Her eyes were sad and empty. She had dirt streaked across her face. The dress she had on was torn in several places. I had to tell her no. I looked away in shame. I had a head in my knapsack and the blood had soaked through the bottom. It was dripping slowly onto the street and I was afraid she'd take notice.
I finished crossing and turned down the next side street. I should have wrapped it in a plastic bag or something. Man, I'm stupid. There's no way I'm getting rid of it now, though. No way, it's too important. Everything depends on that head.
At the end of the side street I turned onto Queen Street and headed west. Luckily people were to caught up in their own shit to notice my soagy knapsack. I picked up the pace and passed a couple in front of me. I put my head down and pulled my cap over my eyes. Queen St West is the hipster center of Toronto and the shops and cafes were bustling with saturday afternoon shoppers. I have to get out of here, away from this crowd. Someone will notice eventually. Finally I reached Spadina Avenue and turned left down towards the Lakeshore, leaving the hipsters and panhandlers behind.
I've been here in Toronto for four years now. I rode the train in from Vancouver. It was either October or November. When I boarded that train for this unknown city I hadn't murdered anybody. Now look at me. My hands are stained red with the blood of strangers. People who did me no harm. People I didn't know. I remember that train ride so clearly. Stretched out across the seat gazing out at the lakes and trees. Everything was green. That surprised me. I had thought the land would be grey and dead that late in the year. Passing through the Rockie Mountains I was in awe. They towered over the train like ancient sentinels. I felt humbled and small. I remember the second night on the train, we were passing through the middle of the prairies when it began to rain. The rain turned into thunder and lightning and you could see the storm approaching from miles off in the distance. A small bright white glow in the black of night. I watched it for hours.
I don't know why I started collecting heads. I don't know how I got from that black night crossing the endless prairies to this sunny day with a damp knapsack on my back. Some nights I wake up covered in sweat. I can never remember what I had been dreaming but I'm always left
with this deep fear in my chest trying to figure out where these twisted desires had come from. On those nights I can never get back to sleep. And lately I've been having them more often. As a result I spend most days exhausted. But the odd thing is that along with the dreams and deep fear and sleepless nights, these twisted desires have been growing deeper as well. Like they realise my heads filling with guilt and self doubt and they're fighting against these forces.
When I'm in the moment, when the blade of my saw is cutting through skin and muscle and cartilage and bone and the screams of the dying fill my head I never feel anything. And then I black out. When I wake up I'm in bed and the mess is gone and all my tools are clean and back in their cupboard. The head I have now, the one thats sitting in my knapsack, dripping blood on the ground behind me is different. I remember collecting this one. I remember cleaning up. I remember everything.
"Hey friend."
Before I can look up to see the source of the voice I feel a hard crack on the side of my head and everything goes dark and blurry. When I open my eyes I'm looking at the ground. Cold cement and broken glass. I can feel it in the palms of my hands. Suddenly I get a hard jolt of pain through my ribs. I grimace and tears come to my eyes. Hands grab me and roll me over. And then I'm looking up into the eyes of five young men with joyless expressions on their faces. The hands of a sixth man are patting me down, running over my body. He takes my wallet and the change from my left jean pocket. I bring my hand up to the side of my head and feel a warm wetness. I look over at the ground next to my face and its red. Glancing around I have no idea where I am. I must have been too lost in thought to notice I was in strange surroundings
As my eyes regain their focus I glance around carefully. I'm sprawled out in an old parking lot. Tall desolate buildings surround it on three sides like a horse shoe. I had wandered in through the opening. i couldn't immediately see any other way out.
"Your not going any where, friend", one of the men said.
I think one of my ribs is broken.
"Whats in the bag?", the voice asks
I close my eyes and I can see the shores of the pacific. The waves rolling gently, softly. Giant, white capped mountains surround me in a horse shoe formation. The air is crisp and refreshing. Why did I leave here? Thats a good question. A hard pain jutts across my back and I open my eyes in a grimace.
"I said whats in the bag, if you keep stalling I don't think we will be able to remain friends."
The theif that stole my wallet grabs my knabsack and pulls it off me. I lay back on the hard cement and close my eyes again. The dirty glass from the ground is imbedded deep in my palms and the pain is deep, throbbing and soothing. i don't know why I killed all those innocent people. Honestly. I wasn't like this until I got here. You know what the worst part is? The blood. The blood never comes off your hands. Believe me. I've spent hours scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing. I tried hand soap, dish soap, floor cleaner, bleach, steel wool. But I still see it.
I hear the zipper of my soagy knapsack zip open slowly. I'm tired of having this secret anyway.
"What the fuck?Jesus christ!!"
The bag makes a dull thud as it hits the ground.
"What the fuck is that?!",the voice of my friend shrieks.
I open my eyes and sit up as one of them bends down, reaches into the bag and pulls it out by the hair. He stands up with his arm outstretched. Blood and gore drip to the cold cement. All six of their joyless faces stare at the head, horrified. In turn each of the six faces turns from the long haired head and looks at me. I wipe the dirt and blood from my face and look each man in the eyes. Deep,deep into their eyes. I don't feel the same heartbreak I did when I looked at the old lady. I don't see the same sadness and hope. I see hate and fear. And a smile spreads across my face. Not of joy but of relief. Finally the end has come.
J.H May 20,2005 5:25pm
I think I'm full of shit but I'm going to talk to you anyway. I move from city to city...Victoria, Saskatoon, Cleveland, Brisbane, St. Johns, Christchurch, Leeds, Phoenix, Galway and I walk around with my discman on, the volume turned up, trailing the streets looking, observing, feeling lost and confused and fantastic and lonely. Watching the faces of the people passing by in the silence of my head,scattered songs covering the sounds of their footsteps, of their coughs and quiet words. I see people walking their dogs and I always make eye contact with those brown canine eyes. It feels like the dog and I share a secret, the key to this unsentimental world, but that this secret sits just outside the reach of my conscious mind. I always have my camera with me and every now and then I stop to take a picture. An empty street corner...an old brickwall covered in graffiti and punk rock concert posters...a smiling old man...a child running across a street blurry and unrecognisable...an old dog lying outside a delapidated building that at one point was a bustling Irish pub.
I used to listen to a lot of music that was all screaming, angry noise. Music that was full of violence and mistrust. That was when I was a teenager. That was a long time ago. Now I listen to music that moves me. Singers with voices that teem with emotion and pain and experience and honesty and hope. Singers that play a lot of acoustic guitar. You grow tired of yelling, and being angry and thrashing your head about. I used to love putting on an album and thrashing my head around. I tried it the other day but all I got was a headache. I still carry that mistrust though.
I watch a lot of movies. Comedies, horror films, action films, dramas, westerns, it doesn't matter. I love movies with lots of dialogue. I watch a lot of Richard Linklater movies and get jealous of all the great dialogue. It sounds so natural and effortless. I've never been able to write dialogue that sounded real. When I was a kid all I watched were martial arts movies. Chuck Norris movies like Good guys wear black, Missing in action, Lonewolf McQuade and Code of Silence. Sho Kasuki movies like Revenge of the ninja,Prey for death and Nine deaths of a ninja. I loved Van Damme. I religiously watched movies like Kickboxer,Cyborg,Double impact and death warrent. The same with Seagal and films like Above the law, Out for Justice and hard to kill. But these movies aren't the same now. They don't satisfy me like they did when I was eight or nine.
I've had a guitar for years but still can't play it. I kind of knew how to play Subterrainian homesick blues at one point and I did know how to play the opening chords of Metallicas Nothing else matters but thats as close as I ever got to playing anything. I have trouble sticking to things. Or is that sticking with things? At the sametime I'm tired of consuming other peoples art. I'm tired of listening to other peoples music,watching other peoples movies,reading other peoples books,looking at other peoples paintings. All I've ever done is observe others. In the end where does that get you if thats all you ever do?
I'm tired of roaming these city streets. Tired of being lifes observer. Looking in from the outside. You want to know the worst thing about moving from city to city,country to country,town to town? You can't own a dog or a cat. Your never in one place long enough and it wouldn't be fair to them if you took them with you. dragged them all over the globe on the end of a worn leather leash. Dogs and cats, all animals for that matter, require stability and routine. I had a dog when I was a child and I miss that companionship dearly. That unerring loyalty.
I have a bike locked up in the backyard that I ride everyday. I love the wind in my face,riding until your lungs burn. When I ride that hard I always have to spit a lot. In England you have to ride on the opposite side of the road. English drivers pass by in their little cars uncomfortably close to you. English drivers have very little respect for anyone but themselves and least of all for pedestrians. I should wear a bicycle helmet when I ride but I don't. Humans do a lot of stupid things. Not wearing a bicycle helmet when they ride sits pretty low on the stupid ladder.
I have a lot of stories I want to tell but that moment when you sit down to write one of them scares the shit out of me. Doubts swarm my mind, the old fear sets in and I get sweaty. And time gets shorter and shorter,moving ever faster. And I have no excuses.
I want to set up a dark room. Just a small room. Somewhere I can develop and print my own black and white photographs. I don't think anybody can truly call themselves a photographer, not even an amatuer photographer, until they are developing and printing their own photographs. I registered for a three day course in dark room techniques and I had the chance to develop one photograph. It was a picture I took when I was in Victoria, British Columbia. I was wandering around town one day and while passing through Beacon Hill park I snapped a picture of an oak tree with a bench just behind it a ways. On this bench sat an elderly couple. The bench is just to the left of the tree. The sun is hitting them from behind. On the oak tree kind of out focus you can make out some carvings someone left in the tree. And a heart with an arrow through it sits in the center. When I printed this photograph it accidentally took on this nice sepia tone. I think the photograph is beautiful. It now hangs on a wall in my Nans house and that makes me so proud. That makes me prouder then if it was hanging in the Louvre or the AGO. One of my biggest fears is my Nan not being proud of me. Disappointing her haunts my dreams. Her and my Mom. That fear sits on my shoulders all day long like a great weight.
I love listening to blues and soul. I've spent so long listening to loud ugly music completely unaware that this raw honest gorgeous music existed. Artists like Howlin Wolf,Muddy Waters, Robert Johnson and John Lee Hooker.Nina Simone, Aretha Franklin and Dusty Springfield. Etta James and Billie Holiday. Music that speaks directly to your heart. Directly to the center of your being. Songs and voices filled with love and pain and hurt and hope and strength.
Is there anything in this world more important to ones daily wellbeing then music? I don't think so.
Although I must say writing isn't far behind. :) J.H May 18,2005 4:26pm
A short tale of relief:
An old lady walked up to me today as I was crossing the street. She looked me deep in the eyes and asked if I had any spare change. My heart broke. Her eyes were sad and empty. She had dirt streaked across her face. The dress she had on was torn in several places. I had to tell her no. I looked away in shame. I had a head in my knapsack and the blood had soaked through the bottom. It was dripping slowly onto the street and I was afraid she'd take notice.
I finished crossing and turned down the next side street. I should have wrapped it in a plastic bag or something. Man, I'm stupid. There's no way I'm getting rid of it now, though. No way, it's too important. Everything depends on that head.
At the end of the side street I turned onto Queen Street and headed west. Luckily people were to caught up in their own shit to notice my soagy knapsack. I picked up the pace and passed a couple in front of me. I put my head down and pulled my cap over my eyes. Queen St West is the hipster center of Toronto and the shops and cafes were bustling with saturday afternoon shoppers. I have to get out of here, away from this crowd. Someone will notice eventually. Finally I reached Spadina Avenue and turned left down towards the Lakeshore, leaving the hipsters and panhandlers behind.
I've been here in Toronto for four years now. I rode the train in from Vancouver. It was either October or November. When I boarded that train for this unknown city I hadn't murdered anybody. Now look at me. My hands are stained red with the blood of strangers. People who did me no harm. People I didn't know. I remember that train ride so clearly. Stretched out across the seat gazing out at the lakes and trees. Everything was green. That surprised me. I had thought the land would be grey and dead that late in the year. Passing through the Rockie Mountains I was in awe. They towered over the train like ancient sentinels. I felt humbled and small. I remember the second night on the train, we were passing through the middle of the prairies when it began to rain. The rain turned into thunder and lightning and you could see the storm approaching from miles off in the distance. A small bright white glow in the black of night. I watched it for hours.
I don't know why I started collecting heads. I don't know how I got from that black night crossing the endless prairies to this sunny day with a damp knapsack on my back. Some nights I wake up covered in sweat. I can never remember what I had been dreaming but I'm always left
with this deep fear in my chest trying to figure out where these twisted desires had come from. On those nights I can never get back to sleep. And lately I've been having them more often. As a result I spend most days exhausted. But the odd thing is that along with the dreams and deep fear and sleepless nights, these twisted desires have been growing deeper as well. Like they realise my heads filling with guilt and self doubt and they're fighting against these forces.
When I'm in the moment, when the blade of my saw is cutting through skin and muscle and cartilage and bone and the screams of the dying fill my head I never feel anything. And then I black out. When I wake up I'm in bed and the mess is gone and all my tools are clean and back in their cupboard. The head I have now, the one thats sitting in my knapsack, dripping blood on the ground behind me is different. I remember collecting this one. I remember cleaning up. I remember everything.
"Hey friend."
Before I can look up to see the source of the voice I feel a hard crack on the side of my head and everything goes dark and blurry. When I open my eyes I'm looking at the ground. Cold cement and broken glass. I can feel it in the palms of my hands. Suddenly I get a hard jolt of pain through my ribs. I grimace and tears come to my eyes. Hands grab me and roll me over. And then I'm looking up into the eyes of five young men with joyless expressions on their faces. The hands of a sixth man are patting me down, running over my body. He takes my wallet and the change from my left jean pocket. I bring my hand up to the side of my head and feel a warm wetness. I look over at the ground next to my face and its red. Glancing around I have no idea where I am. I must have been too lost in thought to notice I was in strange surroundings
As my eyes regain their focus I glance around carefully. I'm sprawled out in an old parking lot. Tall desolate buildings surround it on three sides like a horse shoe. I had wandered in through the opening. i couldn't immediately see any other way out.
"Your not going any where, friend", one of the men said.
I think one of my ribs is broken.
"Whats in the bag?", the voice asks
I close my eyes and I can see the shores of the pacific. The waves rolling gently, softly. Giant, white capped mountains surround me in a horse shoe formation. The air is crisp and refreshing. Why did I leave here? Thats a good question. A hard pain jutts across my back and I open my eyes in a grimace.
"I said whats in the bag, if you keep stalling I don't think we will be able to remain friends."
The theif that stole my wallet grabs my knabsack and pulls it off me. I lay back on the hard cement and close my eyes again. The dirty glass from the ground is imbedded deep in my palms and the pain is deep, throbbing and soothing. i don't know why I killed all those innocent people. Honestly. I wasn't like this until I got here. You know what the worst part is? The blood. The blood never comes off your hands. Believe me. I've spent hours scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing. I tried hand soap, dish soap, floor cleaner, bleach, steel wool. But I still see it.
I hear the zipper of my soagy knapsack zip open slowly. I'm tired of having this secret anyway.
"What the fuck?Jesus christ!!"
The bag makes a dull thud as it hits the ground.
"What the fuck is that?!",the voice of my friend shrieks.
I open my eyes and sit up as one of them bends down, reaches into the bag and pulls it out by the hair. He stands up with his arm outstretched. Blood and gore drip to the cold cement. All six of their joyless faces stare at the head, horrified. In turn each of the six faces turns from the long haired head and looks at me. I wipe the dirt and blood from my face and look each man in the eyes. Deep,deep into their eyes. I don't feel the same heartbreak I did when I looked at the old lady. I don't see the same sadness and hope. I see hate and fear. And a smile spreads across my face. Not of joy but of relief. Finally the end has come.
J.H May 20,2005 5:25pm
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes...
Being made redundant has given me the time to actually do some work on this thing, so I've spruced it up a little bit and added a photo of my dearest friend,the late,great and endlessly missed Fluffy Cat. Anyone who claims animals can't speak never had the opportunity to sit down and have a conversation with her. She was more like a human then some people I've met, and when I stop and listen I can still here her meeerrr-arrrr from the hallway at Cathys house, and the patter of her feet on the stairs. And I will always feel bad for leaving her when I moved out of our place on Myrtle. But maybe I'm just being silly. If I had emotions,right now my eyes would be welling up.
Anyway,hope you like what I've done with the place. Talk to you all soon;)
Anyway,hope you like what I've done with the place. Talk to you all soon;)
Happy halloween!!!
Hey guys,
So yeah apparently the english celebrate everything in the pub. I just finished a shift tonight,they had a childrens halloween party...thats right,in the pub. Dozens of children dressed up as witches and ghosts and undead brides and spiderman and skelotons and even more parents standing around watching from the bar,downing pints of stella and carlsberg and sucking on their cigarettes. Such a beautiful moment. They were talking about finally banning smoking in pubs here in the uk but Tony Blair,with his backbone made of jelly,backed down in fear of the backlash he might have received from the many smokers here. Instead he has given all pubs a choice,they can choose to serve food and ban smoking or cut out food and allow smoking. So now a pub that ordinarily would have banned smoking will have to reconsider if the pub down the street allows smoking. Tony Blair is such a tool. If your going to ban smoking as he definately should then it has to be a universal ban with no exceptions. Pub owners claim they lose customers. As the english say,thats a load of bollocks. I can't see any of the drunks I serve turning their backs on their local pub anytime soon,smoking or no smoking.
Anyway, it was an interesting way to celebrate halloween to say the least. It was cool being a witness to a proper english celebration. Right in the heart of small town Britain.
Then afterwards me and Nic went to see Saw 2. It was good, warped but good.
Oh and I came home friday night from my glamourous job at the soap factory,checked the mail then opened an envelope addressed to me and read a letter that told me that day had been my last day at the soap factory,that they no longer required my services. Nice. Nothing like getting a little advanced notice. The good news is I finally have a little time to relax. Cause honestly working seven days a week frigging sucks. I'm still working at the two pubs so I still have some cash comin in. I'm looking for another fulltime job now, and in the meantime I can catch up on my reading and work on my story. I appreciated all the comments and critisms about my two little stories I wrote for you. I realize I said that if you had nothing good to say about them not to say anything at all but in retrospect any comments are better then none. So read the friggin things and tell me what you thought. Pretty please with sugar on top. And yes once again I realize I've probably just finished setting up another of steves jokes.
Speaking of Steve,I hear you guys just got some cats. Fancy pure bred ones,I asked mom what the first cats name was but she couldn't remember. Congratulations,I'd love to see some pics of them.
Oh and I also managed to catch that 8-0 beating the leafs took from the senators saturday night...hehehehehehehehe! Man alive, Ottawa slapped them around like their red headed step child.
Anyway,Englands still treatin me good, I'm workin hard, enjoyin the short days,long nights and all the drizzle and rain and wind. Looking forward to New Years eve in Edinburgh. Theres about twenty-five of us going now.Get in! You can't beat Scottish hospitality. I think it consists of a handshake, a head butt, a plate of haggis and a cold pint? Doesn't it?
I gotta jet but I'll talk to you dudes soon:)
Book of the week: In Cold Blood by truman capote.
Record of the week: Public enemy-fear of a black planet.
So yeah apparently the english celebrate everything in the pub. I just finished a shift tonight,they had a childrens halloween party...thats right,in the pub. Dozens of children dressed up as witches and ghosts and undead brides and spiderman and skelotons and even more parents standing around watching from the bar,downing pints of stella and carlsberg and sucking on their cigarettes. Such a beautiful moment. They were talking about finally banning smoking in pubs here in the uk but Tony Blair,with his backbone made of jelly,backed down in fear of the backlash he might have received from the many smokers here. Instead he has given all pubs a choice,they can choose to serve food and ban smoking or cut out food and allow smoking. So now a pub that ordinarily would have banned smoking will have to reconsider if the pub down the street allows smoking. Tony Blair is such a tool. If your going to ban smoking as he definately should then it has to be a universal ban with no exceptions. Pub owners claim they lose customers. As the english say,thats a load of bollocks. I can't see any of the drunks I serve turning their backs on their local pub anytime soon,smoking or no smoking.
Anyway, it was an interesting way to celebrate halloween to say the least. It was cool being a witness to a proper english celebration. Right in the heart of small town Britain.
Then afterwards me and Nic went to see Saw 2. It was good, warped but good.
Oh and I came home friday night from my glamourous job at the soap factory,checked the mail then opened an envelope addressed to me and read a letter that told me that day had been my last day at the soap factory,that they no longer required my services. Nice. Nothing like getting a little advanced notice. The good news is I finally have a little time to relax. Cause honestly working seven days a week frigging sucks. I'm still working at the two pubs so I still have some cash comin in. I'm looking for another fulltime job now, and in the meantime I can catch up on my reading and work on my story. I appreciated all the comments and critisms about my two little stories I wrote for you. I realize I said that if you had nothing good to say about them not to say anything at all but in retrospect any comments are better then none. So read the friggin things and tell me what you thought. Pretty please with sugar on top. And yes once again I realize I've probably just finished setting up another of steves jokes.
Speaking of Steve,I hear you guys just got some cats. Fancy pure bred ones,I asked mom what the first cats name was but she couldn't remember. Congratulations,I'd love to see some pics of them.
Oh and I also managed to catch that 8-0 beating the leafs took from the senators saturday night...hehehehehehehehe! Man alive, Ottawa slapped them around like their red headed step child.
Anyway,Englands still treatin me good, I'm workin hard, enjoyin the short days,long nights and all the drizzle and rain and wind. Looking forward to New Years eve in Edinburgh. Theres about twenty-five of us going now.Get in! You can't beat Scottish hospitality. I think it consists of a handshake, a head butt, a plate of haggis and a cold pint? Doesn't it?
I gotta jet but I'll talk to you dudes soon:)
Book of the week: In Cold Blood by truman capote.
Record of the week: Public enemy-fear of a black planet.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
My apologies
Hey, I realize this hasn't been much of a travel journal lately,hell,lets face it,it hasn't been much of a journal lately. I mean I only have five friggin posts up here since friggin april. Well,I have been doing a little travellin here and there but I've been doin a lot more workin. Since august I've been workin bout 65 hours a week. You see i've gone from being an unemployed bum to being a ridiculously over worked bum. I'm workin part-time at two different pubs and full time at a soap factory. And yes that last one is as glamourous as it sounds. So basically I'm working seven days a week.
But as of Monday we will have the internet right in our very home so it will be much easier for me to keep in touch,and tell you about the superb Leeds music festival and my week in London.About my adventures with Nan and Mom in edinburgh and york and the lakes district.And our plans for New Years eve in edinburgh. And anything else I can think of to bore you with.Cause lets face it,all I'm doin here is giving Steve fuel for his jokes and one liners.
Well,I have to go get ready for work again,doing an eight hour shift tonight at the king alfred pub. Oh,congratulations sheila and charl! Thats awesome news about the new baby!
Talk to you guys soon!
p.s how awesome will the Kathleen edwards/Joel Plaskett show at the phoenix be?I wish Joel would do a little tourin over here. And the Nine inch nails/queens of the stone age/death from above show!Sweet. No sign of that show over here yet either.
Also I just got a few cds you guys should all check out: Sons and daughters-The repulsion box, Nine Black alps-everything is, MIA-arular, Willy mason-Where the humans eat, the new buck 65-secret house against the world and an oldy but a goody Public enemy-it takes a nation of millions to hold us back! Don't believe the hype!
I also just saw the video for the remix of Black history month by death from above.It is excellent.
Oh and you should all go see A history of violence. Its the first cronenberg film I really loved. Probably the first cronenberg film I liked actually. Well,the fly was alright.
But as of Monday we will have the internet right in our very home so it will be much easier for me to keep in touch,and tell you about the superb Leeds music festival and my week in London.About my adventures with Nan and Mom in edinburgh and york and the lakes district.And our plans for New Years eve in edinburgh. And anything else I can think of to bore you with.Cause lets face it,all I'm doin here is giving Steve fuel for his jokes and one liners.
Well,I have to go get ready for work again,doing an eight hour shift tonight at the king alfred pub. Oh,congratulations sheila and charl! Thats awesome news about the new baby!
Talk to you guys soon!
p.s how awesome will the Kathleen edwards/Joel Plaskett show at the phoenix be?I wish Joel would do a little tourin over here. And the Nine inch nails/queens of the stone age/death from above show!Sweet. No sign of that show over here yet either.
Also I just got a few cds you guys should all check out: Sons and daughters-The repulsion box, Nine Black alps-everything is, MIA-arular, Willy mason-Where the humans eat, the new buck 65-secret house against the world and an oldy but a goody Public enemy-it takes a nation of millions to hold us back! Don't believe the hype!
I also just saw the video for the remix of Black history month by death from above.It is excellent.
Oh and you should all go see A history of violence. Its the first cronenberg film I really loved. Probably the first cronenberg film I liked actually. Well,the fly was alright.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Two very very short stories for your reading pleasure...and a brief update
Hey dudes,
So I'm still not fully employed,still enjoying the part-time barwork,got a trial for a kitchen job at pizza hut tomorrow,waiting to hear back about some temporary labouring work.All very glamourous,I know.Got our tix to the Leeds music festival the other day.Its going to be frickin fantastic!
I'm headed down to London at the end of August,for the first time,and I can't wait. Meeting up with Tash and Christy for a little hardcore partying and then Nic arrives and a little getting all the way down to the ground,all the way down to chinatown,leaping up into the air gettin juiced up beyond belief hootenany allstar birthday celebration with our friends ensues. (Nic's b-day is on sept 5).I hope I haven't built that weekend up too much.
Anyway,I hope your all doing alright,hope everyone over in Canada is coping with the on going heat wave.Talk to you all soon,heres a couple of little stories I wrote recently,let me know what you think,unless you think they suck,in which case you can kindly keep your opinions to yourselves.hahaha....seriously.
On a beach on the edge of the ocean
Angels float and dangle above the water. Just below the surface I can hear the soft girlish whispers of the fish urging me to wake up. Off in the distance the sounds of barking dogs and bagpipes tumble together through the air. The rocks are hard against my back and sandflies bite my arms and legs,savoring the sweet tang of my blood. Slumber refuses to ease her iron grip,and my eyes remain closed.
A child laughs,those distant bagpipes play on and the waves roll and crash ever closer. That glorious,glorious sound. The hard ocean breeze caresses me,I am too comfortable. I can't remember a thing.
Two lane stream
The rain won't stop and my head is humming. A vague disquieting sound. Like a marching band, marching and playing six blocks away. A marching band with no horn section and a rythmn section banging on broken drums.
Wild cats sit under parked cars, watching the cold drops. They meow into the darkening night and the noise in my head grows ever louder. That busted marching band, marching ever closer.
My jacket is soaked clean through and I'm developing a cough. I'm sitting on this cold dirty sidewalk because I can't make decisions. The street lamps glow orange,casting the world in their errie light. The pages of todays discarded newspaper lay scattered across the road like stepping stones across a two lane stream.
My sandals are in tatters and my toes are wrinkled and shrivelled like prunes. The cold digs its way deep into my body,reaching for my heart. The wind carries the smell of meat and charcoal.
Looking over across that black asphalt stream,I spot a hotdog vendor. My right hand digs deep into my pocket and emerges with a two dollar coin resting comfortably in the middle of its palm. I think I'll get an italian sausage.
I stand and hop from newspaper stone to newspaper stone and cross the street. The marching band turn away,their broken sound fades.
So I'm still not fully employed,still enjoying the part-time barwork,got a trial for a kitchen job at pizza hut tomorrow,waiting to hear back about some temporary labouring work.All very glamourous,I know.Got our tix to the Leeds music festival the other day.Its going to be frickin fantastic!
I'm headed down to London at the end of August,for the first time,and I can't wait. Meeting up with Tash and Christy for a little hardcore partying and then Nic arrives and a little getting all the way down to the ground,all the way down to chinatown,leaping up into the air gettin juiced up beyond belief hootenany allstar birthday celebration with our friends ensues. (Nic's b-day is on sept 5).I hope I haven't built that weekend up too much.
Anyway,I hope your all doing alright,hope everyone over in Canada is coping with the on going heat wave.Talk to you all soon,heres a couple of little stories I wrote recently,let me know what you think,unless you think they suck,in which case you can kindly keep your opinions to yourselves.hahaha....seriously.
On a beach on the edge of the ocean
Angels float and dangle above the water. Just below the surface I can hear the soft girlish whispers of the fish urging me to wake up. Off in the distance the sounds of barking dogs and bagpipes tumble together through the air. The rocks are hard against my back and sandflies bite my arms and legs,savoring the sweet tang of my blood. Slumber refuses to ease her iron grip,and my eyes remain closed.
A child laughs,those distant bagpipes play on and the waves roll and crash ever closer. That glorious,glorious sound. The hard ocean breeze caresses me,I am too comfortable. I can't remember a thing.
Two lane stream
The rain won't stop and my head is humming. A vague disquieting sound. Like a marching band, marching and playing six blocks away. A marching band with no horn section and a rythmn section banging on broken drums.
Wild cats sit under parked cars, watching the cold drops. They meow into the darkening night and the noise in my head grows ever louder. That busted marching band, marching ever closer.
My jacket is soaked clean through and I'm developing a cough. I'm sitting on this cold dirty sidewalk because I can't make decisions. The street lamps glow orange,casting the world in their errie light. The pages of todays discarded newspaper lay scattered across the road like stepping stones across a two lane stream.
My sandals are in tatters and my toes are wrinkled and shrivelled like prunes. The cold digs its way deep into my body,reaching for my heart. The wind carries the smell of meat and charcoal.
Looking over across that black asphalt stream,I spot a hotdog vendor. My right hand digs deep into my pocket and emerges with a two dollar coin resting comfortably in the middle of its palm. I think I'll get an italian sausage.
I stand and hop from newspaper stone to newspaper stone and cross the street. The marching band turn away,their broken sound fades.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
To Spain and back
So its mid-July already!and I still have yet to find any real full-time work. Personally I think its an english conspiracy to keep Canadians out of their workforce.The bastards.Either that or I'm simply too incompetent.I think I'll stick to the former to protect my self-esteem.
We've been to Spain and back and it was lovely.The weather was perfect,blue skys and 30 degrees everyday and a nice 20 degrees at night.The apartment we rented was excellent.Equiped with all the necessities.Spanish tv sucks.The complex also had a gorgeous pool that I spent most of my time in,and a tennis court. We had a nice balcony that we barbequed on and where I spent a little quality time with Senor San Miguel.We were five minutes from this little village whose name I forget.It was very Spanish.I got lots of pics.We went to several Spanish restaurants.I stuck to sea food.For some reason when I picture spanish cows and chickens in my head, they look skinny,half starved and dirty.I'm sure they are probably the same as cows and chickens in any other country but I stuck to fish just in case.Quick note:Guspacho blows.And no thats probably not how you spell guspacho.
When we were driving from the airport in Malaga to our apartment in our rental car,we turned onto the highway,it was dusk,we passed this mini van pulled over on the side of the road.It was covered in flames and a bunch of cops were standing around it watching.Like it was a bonfire.They might as well have had a bag of marshmellows and some hotdogs.It was very surreal.And my camera was stuck in my backpack.I was pissed.It would have been such a sweet picture.
It was my first time being in a country where no one really speaks english.(although between you and me,there seem to be quite a few English here who can't speak english.hehehe.As Kelso would say...BURN!!!!!!!)It was cool.Ordering your food in Spanish,saying olla! and grathias(I think its spelled gracias but its actually pronounced grathias.Something I wasn't aware of until I got there.I think I had spanish confused with mexican.I'm such an ignorant white guy.They were probably talking about me in spanish right in front of me and laughing to one another.hey,look at this white guy.Look how big his head is.hahahaha.He's so ignorant.He got us confused with Mexicans.What a dumbass.Lets overcharge him for his meal.We'll make him pay for the free bread we gave him with his starter.hahaha.Stupid white guy.But man,is he stylish.
We rented a car for our time there and got to see some of the south east coast of Spain.Some of the Costa del sol.Its absolutely gorgeous.We went to this beautiful village called Nerja and a few other places whose names I forget.I always forget that stuff when it counts.Dammit.In the end we didn't want to go back to England.Ten days just wasn't long enough.Oh,did I mention Spain is full of wild cats.They're everywhere.Nic kept telling me not to touch them,that they probably had rabies,and they probably did.But I still petted them.They were just looking for a little love and attention.Just like the rest of us.
Oh by the way,for anyone reading this from Canada,don't worry,I'm alright.I wasn't in London when the bombs went off.Of course you all probably knew that.Or maybe had a vague idea that you thought he was somewhere north of london.Maybe.Either way apparently that was good enough to sooth any worries you had for my safety cause I only received one concerned email and that was from Jimmy Bobarino.But maybe I'm being a little over dramatic.
Oh and how disappointing was the line up for Canadas live8 gig.Holy moly.I was watching the London gig on tv,U2,Paul McCartney,Coldplay,The Who,the original line up of Pink Floyd!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! When they cut to Live8 in Barrie and who's on stage?Friggin Tom Cochrane!singing Life is a Highway!
Anyway,Spain was brilliant.I hope everyones doing alright.Talk to you all soon,unless of course Cathy is working out down in the basement or napping on the sofa and can't come to the phone.(burn!)
Bye bye;)
Jerome
We've been to Spain and back and it was lovely.The weather was perfect,blue skys and 30 degrees everyday and a nice 20 degrees at night.The apartment we rented was excellent.Equiped with all the necessities.Spanish tv sucks.The complex also had a gorgeous pool that I spent most of my time in,and a tennis court. We had a nice balcony that we barbequed on and where I spent a little quality time with Senor San Miguel.We were five minutes from this little village whose name I forget.It was very Spanish.I got lots of pics.We went to several Spanish restaurants.I stuck to sea food.For some reason when I picture spanish cows and chickens in my head, they look skinny,half starved and dirty.I'm sure they are probably the same as cows and chickens in any other country but I stuck to fish just in case.Quick note:Guspacho blows.And no thats probably not how you spell guspacho.
When we were driving from the airport in Malaga to our apartment in our rental car,we turned onto the highway,it was dusk,we passed this mini van pulled over on the side of the road.It was covered in flames and a bunch of cops were standing around it watching.Like it was a bonfire.They might as well have had a bag of marshmellows and some hotdogs.It was very surreal.And my camera was stuck in my backpack.I was pissed.It would have been such a sweet picture.
It was my first time being in a country where no one really speaks english.(although between you and me,there seem to be quite a few English here who can't speak english.hehehe.As Kelso would say...BURN!!!!!!!)It was cool.Ordering your food in Spanish,saying olla! and grathias(I think its spelled gracias but its actually pronounced grathias.Something I wasn't aware of until I got there.I think I had spanish confused with mexican.I'm such an ignorant white guy.They were probably talking about me in spanish right in front of me and laughing to one another.hey,look at this white guy.Look how big his head is.hahahaha.He's so ignorant.He got us confused with Mexicans.What a dumbass.Lets overcharge him for his meal.We'll make him pay for the free bread we gave him with his starter.hahaha.Stupid white guy.But man,is he stylish.
We rented a car for our time there and got to see some of the south east coast of Spain.Some of the Costa del sol.Its absolutely gorgeous.We went to this beautiful village called Nerja and a few other places whose names I forget.I always forget that stuff when it counts.Dammit.In the end we didn't want to go back to England.Ten days just wasn't long enough.Oh,did I mention Spain is full of wild cats.They're everywhere.Nic kept telling me not to touch them,that they probably had rabies,and they probably did.But I still petted them.They were just looking for a little love and attention.Just like the rest of us.
Oh by the way,for anyone reading this from Canada,don't worry,I'm alright.I wasn't in London when the bombs went off.Of course you all probably knew that.Or maybe had a vague idea that you thought he was somewhere north of london.Maybe.Either way apparently that was good enough to sooth any worries you had for my safety cause I only received one concerned email and that was from Jimmy Bobarino.But maybe I'm being a little over dramatic.
Oh and how disappointing was the line up for Canadas live8 gig.Holy moly.I was watching the London gig on tv,U2,Paul McCartney,Coldplay,The Who,the original line up of Pink Floyd!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! When they cut to Live8 in Barrie and who's on stage?Friggin Tom Cochrane!singing Life is a Highway!
Anyway,Spain was brilliant.I hope everyones doing alright.Talk to you all soon,unless of course Cathy is working out down in the basement or napping on the sofa and can't come to the phone.(burn!)
Bye bye;)
Jerome
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Spring blooms,the birds sing and I finally get some work:)
Good afternoon,party people,
I hope everyone is doing well.I'm deeply sorry for missing your birthday bash,kev.I just didn't have the funds to make it.I hope it was spectacular though.
So I finally found someone willing to hire me.Woohoo!!!Its only part time barwork.Yes,even with all my shaking someone hired me to pull pints.Its going alright.I start a second job tomorrow.As a kitchen assistant.Yep,they expect me to cook.This should be interesting.The good news is that combined I should be getting between 30 and 40 hours a week.Thank god.
So what else?We went down to Manchester for the day on Saturday.Dang!That city loves to shop!It was frickin chaos.Beautiful city though.It has a good vibe and some nice record stores.Went to this shop called Afflecks place thats 5 or 6 floors of second hand and vintage clothing and weird stuff.Indie designer clothes and stuff.Very cool.Saw this wicked corderoy dj record bag.Then had to convince myself it was a waste of money since my record player is in Canada and oh yeah...I'm not a dj.It was sweet though.They also had one made out of old star wars sheets.I know what your thinking...how cool is this guy?I know,i know.
I worked my first hectic shift at the Vickerstown Institute(the pub I'm working at) Saturday night.A do for 120 people.They were all such nice people.Nice enough to wait at the bar for every last penny of change.Not one single s.o.b tipped.Lovely.
Sunday was what the english call Super Sunday.It was a long weekend,Monday was a stat holiday.So on sunday everyone in the country went out to the pub and got pissed.Myself included.Well,we went to a great barbeque first.Then about 5pm we hit the pub.I hit the stella,or as they call it here,the wifebeater.Classy name.Its 5% and thats strong here apparently.Then I started dancing and never stopped til we hit the chinese take away for a curry and chips.Thing is I don't think anyone else was dancing.Just me.And I was getting down.All the way down to chinatown.At least I seemed to amuse everyone else.And the strangers I danced with were kind enough to laugh instead of punch me in the head.Good times.
Well,my times running out here.So I'll talk to you soon:)
Song of the week: Lets build a home:from the white stripes destyjl album.Go home put it on turn it up and try not to dance.I dare you.
I hope everyone is doing well.I'm deeply sorry for missing your birthday bash,kev.I just didn't have the funds to make it.I hope it was spectacular though.
So I finally found someone willing to hire me.Woohoo!!!Its only part time barwork.Yes,even with all my shaking someone hired me to pull pints.Its going alright.I start a second job tomorrow.As a kitchen assistant.Yep,they expect me to cook.This should be interesting.The good news is that combined I should be getting between 30 and 40 hours a week.Thank god.
So what else?We went down to Manchester for the day on Saturday.Dang!That city loves to shop!It was frickin chaos.Beautiful city though.It has a good vibe and some nice record stores.Went to this shop called Afflecks place thats 5 or 6 floors of second hand and vintage clothing and weird stuff.Indie designer clothes and stuff.Very cool.Saw this wicked corderoy dj record bag.Then had to convince myself it was a waste of money since my record player is in Canada and oh yeah...I'm not a dj.It was sweet though.They also had one made out of old star wars sheets.I know what your thinking...how cool is this guy?I know,i know.
I worked my first hectic shift at the Vickerstown Institute(the pub I'm working at) Saturday night.A do for 120 people.They were all such nice people.Nice enough to wait at the bar for every last penny of change.Not one single s.o.b tipped.Lovely.
Sunday was what the english call Super Sunday.It was a long weekend,Monday was a stat holiday.So on sunday everyone in the country went out to the pub and got pissed.Myself included.Well,we went to a great barbeque first.Then about 5pm we hit the pub.I hit the stella,or as they call it here,the wifebeater.Classy name.Its 5% and thats strong here apparently.Then I started dancing and never stopped til we hit the chinese take away for a curry and chips.Thing is I don't think anyone else was dancing.Just me.And I was getting down.All the way down to chinatown.At least I seemed to amuse everyone else.And the strangers I danced with were kind enough to laugh instead of punch me in the head.Good times.
Well,my times running out here.So I'll talk to you soon:)
Song of the week: Lets build a home:from the white stripes destyjl album.Go home put it on turn it up and try not to dance.I dare you.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Notes on England
So,it turns out the rumours were true,the sun does occassionally appear over England,bathing all the land in its heavenly glow.Albeit for a very short period,but I was beginning to believe it really did rain all the friggin time.
I've been watching a fair bit of english television and have realised this country only has four kinds of celebrities. Television presenters(hosts),people that have won big brother(yeah,apparently people actually watch that show here and when someone wins people care.I don't understand it either,from the clips I've seen its just as bad as it is home),people that are in boy/girl bands and finally people that used to be in boy/girl bands. Funnily enough the people who win big brother usually become tv presenters.And sometimes the people on big brother used to be in boy/girl bands.Its one big vicious circle of talentless people with no personalities making careers out of nothing.And the thing that really hurts my head is the average family here in the uk only has four friggin channels.How many tv presenters do you need?
I've also noticed theres only four types of show on tv here.Gardening shows,home repairs shows,travel shows,bad soap operas,sports(I use the term loosely),and shows about super nannies that come to the rescue of bad parents who can't control their little bastard children.Really you can reduce this list down to two catagories:reality tv and bad soap operas. They don't really show sitcoms.They do show the occasional episode of friends and 3rd watch and without a trace and the occasional good film.But the only quality british television shows I've seen are Little Britain and League of Gentlemen.Though the former is far superior to the latter.It is in fact far superior to pretty much anything else on tv.But maybe I'm being a bit too harsh.I did enjoy the snooker world championships and the liverpool v chelsea match last night was very exciting.
But lets face it,I really shouldn't be spending so much time watching the ol boob tube.I should be seeing as much of this beautiful country as possible.We did drive up to the lake district the other weekend.Its gorgeous up there.All green hills,lakes,cobblestone streets,tiny(and I mean tiny)winding,country roads.We went over to Piel Island on a ferry that was really just a small row boat.There's an old castle ruins over there that was beautiful.But the real treat was visiting Furness Abbey.A monastery from the 11th century.Its one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.Apparently I have a real appreciation of old ruins that I wasn't aware of. I've been reading up on all the old castles and monasteries and cathedrals spread over England.There's hundreds of them and I want to see as many as possible.I also want to check all the old birthplaces that spread over england. I want to get to Stratford to see Shakespeare house and hopefully catch a play.I want to get down to Portsmouth to see where charles dickens was born.Over to Oxford,where I believe Wordsworth was born,also the birthplace of Radiohead.I want to get over to see where the Bronte sisters were born,the list goes on and on.There are so many galleries and museums and places bursting with culture.Oh yeah,and I really want to get down to Stonehenge,and the lesser known Woodhenge next to it.
Anyway,I'm very excited to hear Tash and Christy are finally getting ready to purchase their tickets to Europe and to unknown adventures.We will definately have to meet up in London.How weird and awesome will that be?
So whats left to mention?Uhhhh....I'm still unemployed,still jobhunting...ummm...I'm going to start doing some of that indoor rock climbing where you try and scale those big walls.Ummm...I'm bitterly disappointed that I can't watch the world hockey championships...and uhhh...I miss everyone.
Song of the week: Jurusalem by Royal City from their lovely third album Little Hearts Ease.
Film of the week: Touching the Void. An incredible documentary about a 1985 mountain climbing expedition gone horribly wrong.A beautiful example of the power of the human spirit.Man,is that me typing this stuff?
Book of the week: Last night a dj saved my life by ummm?two guys whose names I can't remember right now.Its the definitive history of the disc jockey from 1914 til now.Fascinating.
Quote of the week:'Wicked and weird I'm a road hog with an old dog,singing slow songs,trying to hold on.Wicked and weird I'm a ratfish trying to practise doing backflips on your mattress.'
Buck 65 from his song Wicked and Weird found on his masterpiece Talkin Honky Blues.
A final note:English politics is dirty, vicious, petty and disgusting.I used to think all this about Canadian and American politics until now. Tony Blair and Michael Howard make George bush and Jean Chretian look like gentlemen.Hell they make Stephen Harper look like a gentlemen.Ok,that last line is a lie but the rest is true.And The Times and Daily Mail and Guardian newspapers make the star and the national post seem completely unbiased.It really is ridiculous.Thank god the election is tomorrow,then we can focus on important things like May 19 and the final Star Wars film!Yeah!!!!!
I've been watching a fair bit of english television and have realised this country only has four kinds of celebrities. Television presenters(hosts),people that have won big brother(yeah,apparently people actually watch that show here and when someone wins people care.I don't understand it either,from the clips I've seen its just as bad as it is home),people that are in boy/girl bands and finally people that used to be in boy/girl bands. Funnily enough the people who win big brother usually become tv presenters.And sometimes the people on big brother used to be in boy/girl bands.Its one big vicious circle of talentless people with no personalities making careers out of nothing.And the thing that really hurts my head is the average family here in the uk only has four friggin channels.How many tv presenters do you need?
I've also noticed theres only four types of show on tv here.Gardening shows,home repairs shows,travel shows,bad soap operas,sports(I use the term loosely),and shows about super nannies that come to the rescue of bad parents who can't control their little bastard children.Really you can reduce this list down to two catagories:reality tv and bad soap operas. They don't really show sitcoms.They do show the occasional episode of friends and 3rd watch and without a trace and the occasional good film.But the only quality british television shows I've seen are Little Britain and League of Gentlemen.Though the former is far superior to the latter.It is in fact far superior to pretty much anything else on tv.But maybe I'm being a bit too harsh.I did enjoy the snooker world championships and the liverpool v chelsea match last night was very exciting.
But lets face it,I really shouldn't be spending so much time watching the ol boob tube.I should be seeing as much of this beautiful country as possible.We did drive up to the lake district the other weekend.Its gorgeous up there.All green hills,lakes,cobblestone streets,tiny(and I mean tiny)winding,country roads.We went over to Piel Island on a ferry that was really just a small row boat.There's an old castle ruins over there that was beautiful.But the real treat was visiting Furness Abbey.A monastery from the 11th century.Its one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.Apparently I have a real appreciation of old ruins that I wasn't aware of. I've been reading up on all the old castles and monasteries and cathedrals spread over England.There's hundreds of them and I want to see as many as possible.I also want to check all the old birthplaces that spread over england. I want to get to Stratford to see Shakespeare house and hopefully catch a play.I want to get down to Portsmouth to see where charles dickens was born.Over to Oxford,where I believe Wordsworth was born,also the birthplace of Radiohead.I want to get over to see where the Bronte sisters were born,the list goes on and on.There are so many galleries and museums and places bursting with culture.Oh yeah,and I really want to get down to Stonehenge,and the lesser known Woodhenge next to it.
Anyway,I'm very excited to hear Tash and Christy are finally getting ready to purchase their tickets to Europe and to unknown adventures.We will definately have to meet up in London.How weird and awesome will that be?
So whats left to mention?Uhhhh....I'm still unemployed,still jobhunting...ummm...I'm going to start doing some of that indoor rock climbing where you try and scale those big walls.Ummm...I'm bitterly disappointed that I can't watch the world hockey championships...and uhhh...I miss everyone.
Song of the week: Jurusalem by Royal City from their lovely third album Little Hearts Ease.
Film of the week: Touching the Void. An incredible documentary about a 1985 mountain climbing expedition gone horribly wrong.A beautiful example of the power of the human spirit.Man,is that me typing this stuff?
Book of the week: Last night a dj saved my life by ummm?two guys whose names I can't remember right now.Its the definitive history of the disc jockey from 1914 til now.Fascinating.
Quote of the week:'Wicked and weird I'm a road hog with an old dog,singing slow songs,trying to hold on.Wicked and weird I'm a ratfish trying to practise doing backflips on your mattress.'
Buck 65 from his song Wicked and Weird found on his masterpiece Talkin Honky Blues.
A final note:English politics is dirty, vicious, petty and disgusting.I used to think all this about Canadian and American politics until now. Tony Blair and Michael Howard make George bush and Jean Chretian look like gentlemen.Hell they make Stephen Harper look like a gentlemen.Ok,that last line is a lie but the rest is true.And The Times and Daily Mail and Guardian newspapers make the star and the national post seem completely unbiased.It really is ridiculous.Thank god the election is tomorrow,then we can focus on important things like May 19 and the final Star Wars film!Yeah!!!!!
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Ode to Ciarans dog Rollo
Good evening ladies and gents,
I must apologize to Ciaran for my grievous error.You see last time on here I said Ciara had a lovely dog, but failed to mention what a lovely dog Ciaran has as well. His name is Rollo. While I'm on the subject I would like to add that Lee's two cats are great,Keiths dog is lovely,you should see her when his dad does the dishes, and his two cats Whiskey and Garfield are adorable. Tomas' mom Mary has a nice dog that seemed like it was going to bite my face everytime I attempted to pet it.I hold no grudges though,he'd been outside all night and he doesn't know me very well.I like to believe that if he had the opportunity to really get to know me,that we would get along just fine,and he wouldn't have the animal urge to bite my face or neck. Having said all this,I have to say that as nice as all your animals are,and they really are lovely,that they all pale in comparison to my favourite cat fluffy. Just last week she had a cist removed from her liver,she's back and recovering nicely from what I hear,getting back to her controlling and demanding self.God bless her.
Anyway, England is lovely,all though everybody asks me how I'm finding Barrow(Nics town).They say 'so what do you think of our little town?' I say,with sincerity,'its great,really nice.' They say,immediately afterwards,'its a shithole.' But it really does seem nice to me. I went out for the first time Saturday with Nic and her girlfriends for a real Barrow night out. I told Nic I was going to get really drunk and make an ass out of myself in front of her friends. Guess what? I got really drunk and made an ass out of myself in front of her friends. I would have made you proud Lee. I was dancing with random strangers,unbeknownst to them.They had their backs turned. Apparently one big fat guy turned around and was about to punch me in the head(I was oblivious to this) but Nic stepped in front of him and told him to go away. And the leg was bent all the way to the floor.We sang Living on a prayer and summer of 69 again,and that horrible song by Peter Kaye.How many friggin times can they play that a day? It was a blast. We ended it at the chinese take away,munching on a curry and chips.Delicious.
I've also started the ol jobhunt.Can't pull a Melbourne this time.Work first,party later. Hopefully I can snag some barwork.Well,thats all for now,I'd just like to add that Tashs cats are lovely too.Especially her sweetheart of a grey cat.I miss the black cat.
Song of the week:A rare tie,between No ecstasy by The Constantines from their self-titled album and Bigtime by the Soundtrack of our lives from their brilliant new album Origins Vol.1.
Book of the week: 31 songs by Nick Hornby. A book of essays about the songs that matter to him and why.But the songs don't matter.Really its just an honest,funny brilliantly written love letter to music. If you get a chance please read it.
Quote of the week: 'you no good biscuit eating son of a bitch.' from Law and Order Criminal Intent.
Later Skaters:)
I must apologize to Ciaran for my grievous error.You see last time on here I said Ciara had a lovely dog, but failed to mention what a lovely dog Ciaran has as well. His name is Rollo. While I'm on the subject I would like to add that Lee's two cats are great,Keiths dog is lovely,you should see her when his dad does the dishes, and his two cats Whiskey and Garfield are adorable. Tomas' mom Mary has a nice dog that seemed like it was going to bite my face everytime I attempted to pet it.I hold no grudges though,he'd been outside all night and he doesn't know me very well.I like to believe that if he had the opportunity to really get to know me,that we would get along just fine,and he wouldn't have the animal urge to bite my face or neck. Having said all this,I have to say that as nice as all your animals are,and they really are lovely,that they all pale in comparison to my favourite cat fluffy. Just last week she had a cist removed from her liver,she's back and recovering nicely from what I hear,getting back to her controlling and demanding self.God bless her.
Anyway, England is lovely,all though everybody asks me how I'm finding Barrow(Nics town).They say 'so what do you think of our little town?' I say,with sincerity,'its great,really nice.' They say,immediately afterwards,'its a shithole.' But it really does seem nice to me. I went out for the first time Saturday with Nic and her girlfriends for a real Barrow night out. I told Nic I was going to get really drunk and make an ass out of myself in front of her friends. Guess what? I got really drunk and made an ass out of myself in front of her friends. I would have made you proud Lee. I was dancing with random strangers,unbeknownst to them.They had their backs turned. Apparently one big fat guy turned around and was about to punch me in the head(I was oblivious to this) but Nic stepped in front of him and told him to go away. And the leg was bent all the way to the floor.We sang Living on a prayer and summer of 69 again,and that horrible song by Peter Kaye.How many friggin times can they play that a day? It was a blast. We ended it at the chinese take away,munching on a curry and chips.Delicious.
I've also started the ol jobhunt.Can't pull a Melbourne this time.Work first,party later. Hopefully I can snag some barwork.Well,thats all for now,I'd just like to add that Tashs cats are lovely too.Especially her sweetheart of a grey cat.I miss the black cat.
Song of the week:A rare tie,between No ecstasy by The Constantines from their self-titled album and Bigtime by the Soundtrack of our lives from their brilliant new album Origins Vol.1.
Book of the week: 31 songs by Nick Hornby. A book of essays about the songs that matter to him and why.But the songs don't matter.Really its just an honest,funny brilliantly written love letter to music. If you get a chance please read it.
Quote of the week: 'you no good biscuit eating son of a bitch.' from Law and Order Criminal Intent.
Later Skaters:)
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Journey to the Emerald Isle
So we flew into Dublin Wed evening and were met by my good friend and champion,Keith.On the drive to his place Keith asked 'Fancy a pint?'.And so it began.We picked up the lovely Ciara and headed to a nice pub in Wickalaw(forgive the spelling of all Irish places and names).There was great band playing covers,and I tasted my first pint of proper Guinness and fell deeply in love.We laughed and talked and when the band(the lead singer is a Garda you know) played them,we sang along to Living on a prayer and what may very well be the most played song in the world,Summer of 69.
Thursday morning we awoke and headed over to Ciara's,where her lovely mom prepared what has to be the best fry up in Ireland.And she timed it perfectly for the moment we walked in the door.God bless her.So we ate and sighed in ecstasy and talked and played with her sweet sweet dog and left for Dublin.Once in Dublin we watched the St Patricks parade or what we could see of it and soaked up the electric atmosphere.We wandered over to Temple Bar,the pub and party district of the city and found a place,whose name I can't remember,that sold good beer and played good music,and there we stayed,and danced and laughed and sang Hey ya.
Friday we waited with baited breath for the arrival of the french men,Lee.He was due at Keiths around 3pm so naturally he strutted in about 7pm.We hugged and laughed and headed back into Dublin to meet up with Ciaran and Tom and Ann Marie and a few of the frasier girls,and eventually we found them in another bar whose name I forget,and we shook hands and hugged and laughed and posed for photos and sang and danced and cheered and spilled drinks and bent the leg all the way to the ground and somehow never got thrown out.It was a night to remember.
Saturday we hopped into Ciara's jazz blue convertible and dorve up to Glenlough monestery and through the surrounding hills and towns,the sun was out and it was beautiful.We stopped into his excellent local pub,where aside from the Guinness storehouse,I had the best pint of Guinness of my trip to the country.We sat outside and watched families kicking the football around and soaked up the fresh country air and watched a couple of dodgy looking pikies get thrown out, spit on the pub door, kick the local dog in the ribs,mutter something unintelligible and speed off in a rusty red hatchback.Luckily the dog was a thick muscular little bull dog,so no real damage was done,nut it did put a gey cloud over our otherwise brilliant day.The bastards.That night we went back over to Dublin for the fireworks.We went out for a great tex mex meal where me and Lee ate far too much.Ummm,yeah,we'll each start with the babyback ribs,then have the steak dinner.Stop the press...say again?Fat bastards.Afterwards we managed to just catch the last five minutes of the fireworks,they were spectacular.Then headed for the pub and barely forced down a pint before heading home,where Lee put on the Pelican Brief and we crashed for the night.
Sunday,Tomas's lovely parents Liam and Mary were kind enough to let us tag along with them down to Limerick and Ciaran and Tomas's hometown of Ballyhahill.A quaint friendly place.We met up with Ciaran and went out to his local for a pint and a little conversation.There we met Ciarans friend Elaine.She had just recently shaved off her long curly locks for charity in the very pub we were in and raised a very impressive 1500 euro in the process.An incredible feat.We also met Ciarans uncle and chatted about Ireland and Canada and history.Monday and Tuesday Ciaran drove us down around the south west of the island,to Dingle and the Cliffs of Mohar and Killarny.I introduced him to the sounds of Joel Plaskett and he introduced me to the sounds of Paddy Casey.A fair trade I think.
Wed we caught the train up to Belfast and met up once again with Lee.We stayed at his beautiful home and met his lovely mom and had many bowls of her delicious Irish stew and met his beautiful cats,whose names I'm deeply sorry to admit,I can't remember.That night we went round to Lee's local Grace Neills,the oldest pub in Ireland according to the Guinness book of records.It was established in 1611,I believe.there we met up with Adam and over many pints remeniesced(that can't be how you spell it.) about the good ol days of Echuca and Oz and Beeker.It still makes me laugh til it hurts when Adam tells the story of Beeker taking the meet out of Paddys burger.Sorry Paddy.Hopefully Beeker doesn't have internet.
Thursday Lee drove us up to the north coast to The Giants causeway,a group of cliffs and rock formations thats hard to describe.Among the cliffs and along the walking path is a long rope bridge.While waiting to cross back over the bridge to the mainland me,Nic and Lee stood by and watched as a french guy slipped and almost did a header right over the side.As Lee would say ha he ha he ha,push bikes and garlic.I don't think he appreciated our laughter.
On the friday we left for Galway.On the way through Belfast Lee took us by a few cop stations/fortresses.I wanted a picture so as we came up on them Lee would say here it is on your left,get ready,I'd role down the window,there it is,go,go,and I'd snap a picture as we sped by.We were half convinced we were going to get pulled over and arrested or shot at by snipers.We must have looked pretty dodgy,a car speeding by a Belfast cop station with a camera lense stuck out the window.
Then we were off,to Galway and the big reunion.6 and a half hours later we entered the Galway city limits,the bee gees blaring from the car stereo and a back seat full of booze.It was a weekend I'll never forget, that went by far far too fast.
Quote of the week:'Those are Uri Gellers.He loves his spoons.Take away his spoons and he cries like a baby.Motherf£%$&*! spoonlover!'
Michael Jackson
from Bo Selecta
Thursday morning we awoke and headed over to Ciara's,where her lovely mom prepared what has to be the best fry up in Ireland.And she timed it perfectly for the moment we walked in the door.God bless her.So we ate and sighed in ecstasy and talked and played with her sweet sweet dog and left for Dublin.Once in Dublin we watched the St Patricks parade or what we could see of it and soaked up the electric atmosphere.We wandered over to Temple Bar,the pub and party district of the city and found a place,whose name I can't remember,that sold good beer and played good music,and there we stayed,and danced and laughed and sang Hey ya.
Friday we waited with baited breath for the arrival of the french men,Lee.He was due at Keiths around 3pm so naturally he strutted in about 7pm.We hugged and laughed and headed back into Dublin to meet up with Ciaran and Tom and Ann Marie and a few of the frasier girls,and eventually we found them in another bar whose name I forget,and we shook hands and hugged and laughed and posed for photos and sang and danced and cheered and spilled drinks and bent the leg all the way to the ground and somehow never got thrown out.It was a night to remember.
Saturday we hopped into Ciara's jazz blue convertible and dorve up to Glenlough monestery and through the surrounding hills and towns,the sun was out and it was beautiful.We stopped into his excellent local pub,where aside from the Guinness storehouse,I had the best pint of Guinness of my trip to the country.We sat outside and watched families kicking the football around and soaked up the fresh country air and watched a couple of dodgy looking pikies get thrown out, spit on the pub door, kick the local dog in the ribs,mutter something unintelligible and speed off in a rusty red hatchback.Luckily the dog was a thick muscular little bull dog,so no real damage was done,nut it did put a gey cloud over our otherwise brilliant day.The bastards.That night we went back over to Dublin for the fireworks.We went out for a great tex mex meal where me and Lee ate far too much.Ummm,yeah,we'll each start with the babyback ribs,then have the steak dinner.Stop the press...say again?Fat bastards.Afterwards we managed to just catch the last five minutes of the fireworks,they were spectacular.Then headed for the pub and barely forced down a pint before heading home,where Lee put on the Pelican Brief and we crashed for the night.
Sunday,Tomas's lovely parents Liam and Mary were kind enough to let us tag along with them down to Limerick and Ciaran and Tomas's hometown of Ballyhahill.A quaint friendly place.We met up with Ciaran and went out to his local for a pint and a little conversation.There we met Ciarans friend Elaine.She had just recently shaved off her long curly locks for charity in the very pub we were in and raised a very impressive 1500 euro in the process.An incredible feat.We also met Ciarans uncle and chatted about Ireland and Canada and history.Monday and Tuesday Ciaran drove us down around the south west of the island,to Dingle and the Cliffs of Mohar and Killarny.I introduced him to the sounds of Joel Plaskett and he introduced me to the sounds of Paddy Casey.A fair trade I think.
Wed we caught the train up to Belfast and met up once again with Lee.We stayed at his beautiful home and met his lovely mom and had many bowls of her delicious Irish stew and met his beautiful cats,whose names I'm deeply sorry to admit,I can't remember.That night we went round to Lee's local Grace Neills,the oldest pub in Ireland according to the Guinness book of records.It was established in 1611,I believe.there we met up with Adam and over many pints remeniesced(that can't be how you spell it.) about the good ol days of Echuca and Oz and Beeker.It still makes me laugh til it hurts when Adam tells the story of Beeker taking the meet out of Paddys burger.Sorry Paddy.Hopefully Beeker doesn't have internet.
Thursday Lee drove us up to the north coast to The Giants causeway,a group of cliffs and rock formations thats hard to describe.Among the cliffs and along the walking path is a long rope bridge.While waiting to cross back over the bridge to the mainland me,Nic and Lee stood by and watched as a french guy slipped and almost did a header right over the side.As Lee would say ha he ha he ha,push bikes and garlic.I don't think he appreciated our laughter.
On the friday we left for Galway.On the way through Belfast Lee took us by a few cop stations/fortresses.I wanted a picture so as we came up on them Lee would say here it is on your left,get ready,I'd role down the window,there it is,go,go,and I'd snap a picture as we sped by.We were half convinced we were going to get pulled over and arrested or shot at by snipers.We must have looked pretty dodgy,a car speeding by a Belfast cop station with a camera lense stuck out the window.
Then we were off,to Galway and the big reunion.6 and a half hours later we entered the Galway city limits,the bee gees blaring from the car stereo and a back seat full of booze.It was a weekend I'll never forget, that went by far far too fast.
Quote of the week:'Those are Uri Gellers.He loves his spoons.Take away his spoons and he cries like a baby.Motherf£%$&*! spoonlover!'
Michael Jackson
from Bo Selecta
Monday, April 04, 2005
Departure/Arrival
Hey party people,I apologize for the delay(and am especially sorry for making Muntz wait all this time).
So I shared the plane ride over with a couple of bare naked ladies.Two members in fact,the dark afro haired guy and the pudgy lead singer,who's actually quite slim in person.The in flight film was The Princess Diaries 2.And they wonder why incidents of air rage are on the rise.
Upon arrival I was met by a very small,very stern,very unhappy british customs agent who grilled me for 20 min and shouted at people behind me to stay behind the line.He asked me if I understood all the rules of my uk visa.I said yes.He said tell them to me.I said...ummm...yeah,ok I don't understand all the rules to my uk visa.The nice man that he is,he explained them all in very minute detail.I love customs agents.When I got to the luggage belt everyone else on my plane was gone and no baggage was on the belt.The security dude came over and asked what flight I was on.I said chicago,he said oh yeah,your bags are probably still back in chicago.The information lady confirmed it and they delivered them to my door the next day.So it was a bit of a blessing really.
Finally I was reunited with the lovely Nicola and we kissed and smiled and said hi and hugged and kissed and left the airport.Upon arrival at Nic's house I discovered Cathy was right.The english have very tiny fridges,no closets and no basements.On the otherhand they do make a mean cup of tea and have the funniest comedy show I've seen in years.Its called Little Britain and anyone who hasn't seen it, should finish reading this excellent journal then go watch it.Its on in Canada now,on bbc canada.It is utterly brilliant.Last night one sketch from the show,Lou and Andy,was voted britains greatest sketch comedy bit on the 50 greatest comedy sketches of all time.It even beat out Monty Pythons dead parrot bit(voted second place).
Before I talk about Ireland I want to thank some people for making our trip so incredible,I probably already thanked you in a drunken stupor,but just in case.I have to thank Keith for going so far out of his way for us.If it wasn't for you calling me up out of the blue in Brisbane the trip wouldn't have happened.Your an absolute champion.Thanks to Ciara for being so good to us,and thanks to Ciara's lovely mom for making us the best fry up in Ireland.I have to thank Ciaran and Tomas(my two irish brothers) and their families for everything.Thank you to Lee and his lovely mom for everything,including the best irish stew in Ireland.Get in,mother habbard,av it!And I have to thank everyone who made it to Galway,Ryan(my scottish bro),Kev,me ol china(come on Israel!),Matt,Dave(brilliant effort,mate)Anne Marie,Jo,Sharon,Ellie,Donnel.Hopefully I haven't forgotten anybody,if I have I apologize profusely.Ireland was everything I could have hoped for.I had the time of my life.I have to cut this short,times up,but I'll get back soon.I love all you guys.
Song of the week:Green and Red of Mayo:the sawdoctors.From the album Live in Galway.
Later skaters:)
So I shared the plane ride over with a couple of bare naked ladies.Two members in fact,the dark afro haired guy and the pudgy lead singer,who's actually quite slim in person.The in flight film was The Princess Diaries 2.And they wonder why incidents of air rage are on the rise.
Upon arrival I was met by a very small,very stern,very unhappy british customs agent who grilled me for 20 min and shouted at people behind me to stay behind the line.He asked me if I understood all the rules of my uk visa.I said yes.He said tell them to me.I said...ummm...yeah,ok I don't understand all the rules to my uk visa.The nice man that he is,he explained them all in very minute detail.I love customs agents.When I got to the luggage belt everyone else on my plane was gone and no baggage was on the belt.The security dude came over and asked what flight I was on.I said chicago,he said oh yeah,your bags are probably still back in chicago.The information lady confirmed it and they delivered them to my door the next day.So it was a bit of a blessing really.
Finally I was reunited with the lovely Nicola and we kissed and smiled and said hi and hugged and kissed and left the airport.Upon arrival at Nic's house I discovered Cathy was right.The english have very tiny fridges,no closets and no basements.On the otherhand they do make a mean cup of tea and have the funniest comedy show I've seen in years.Its called Little Britain and anyone who hasn't seen it, should finish reading this excellent journal then go watch it.Its on in Canada now,on bbc canada.It is utterly brilliant.Last night one sketch from the show,Lou and Andy,was voted britains greatest sketch comedy bit on the 50 greatest comedy sketches of all time.It even beat out Monty Pythons dead parrot bit(voted second place).
Before I talk about Ireland I want to thank some people for making our trip so incredible,I probably already thanked you in a drunken stupor,but just in case.I have to thank Keith for going so far out of his way for us.If it wasn't for you calling me up out of the blue in Brisbane the trip wouldn't have happened.Your an absolute champion.Thanks to Ciara for being so good to us,and thanks to Ciara's lovely mom for making us the best fry up in Ireland.I have to thank Ciaran and Tomas(my two irish brothers) and their families for everything.Thank you to Lee and his lovely mom for everything,including the best irish stew in Ireland.Get in,mother habbard,av it!And I have to thank everyone who made it to Galway,Ryan(my scottish bro),Kev,me ol china(come on Israel!),Matt,Dave(brilliant effort,mate)Anne Marie,Jo,Sharon,Ellie,Donnel.Hopefully I haven't forgotten anybody,if I have I apologize profusely.Ireland was everything I could have hoped for.I had the time of my life.I have to cut this short,times up,but I'll get back soon.I love all you guys.
Song of the week:Green and Red of Mayo:the sawdoctors.From the album Live in Galway.
Later skaters:)
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Pre-departure
So,works finished,the ground is still covered in snow and I leave in one week.The arduous task of selecting the music for my trip is almost complete,I only have room for four more selections and you can cut the tension with a knife.And yeah,thats right I said arduous.
I have batteries,spongebob band aids and a comfortable pair of shoes and I'm good to go.MacGyver's got nothing on me.
For those of you here in the great white north,I hope to see or talk to all of you before I leave.For those of you waiting with baited breath for my arrival,I hope to see all of you soon.
Song of the week:Love this town by Joel Plaskett from the album La de da.
Quote of the week:"I'm Rick James,bitch."from Chapelles Show.
halfman halfmachine.
I have batteries,spongebob band aids and a comfortable pair of shoes and I'm good to go.MacGyver's got nothing on me.
For those of you here in the great white north,I hope to see or talk to all of you before I leave.For those of you waiting with baited breath for my arrival,I hope to see all of you soon.
Song of the week:Love this town by Joel Plaskett from the album La de da.
Quote of the week:"I'm Rick James,bitch."from Chapelles Show.
halfman halfmachine.
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