ah, synchronicity

So how much of it is actual stress and how much of it is stress made up to keep things sizzling?

One sure way to tell that I'm not quite right is that I can't seem to sleep properly through the night, but neither can I seem to make it through the day without a series of naps (not always possible).

I'm feeling a little less negative about the seasonal disaffect. The possibility of being around people and not feeling like pole-axing them into a waiting mote is rising in my field of view. Though my weekend plans of laundry and shopping being pushed to next weekend may change my p.o.v. right back.

Two fun store things from yesterday:

Putting posters out into our floor display rack I'm trapped out in the middle of the store when someone comes up the stairs. I hate being out from behind the counter when a customer comes in... feels like being caught pulling up your zipper for some reason. Anyhow this gentleman looking a little like this...



...comes right up to me, within about, seriously, a foot and a half and says... not asks... says, "Birdcalls."

So, yeah.

Couldn't help him.


The next incident involved someone I know who works at another record store, of the mall variety. He'd just gotten done explaining how some genius on Sunday had shoplifted a bunch of stuff from his store... Since they're hi-tech they have beepy sensors and all... but the power of the dash is still a force to be reckoned with. He'd just finished telling me the sad tale when a heavily parka'd and back pack'd individual wanders in right next to my friend who says, "Hey man!!" Now this guy knows a lot of people so I figured this must be an acquaintance of his. Parka man asks, "Do I know you man?" To this my friend says, "Yeah you're the guy who robbed my store on Sunday. Are you here to sell what you stole?" There was much redness of face, cover banter about Nazareth vinyl, then slow, sauntering dashing... through the snow, probably

It's beginning to look a lot like...

...the slow clubfooted slouch towards Bethlehem v.6.0

As the Americans struggle to keep their biases cleverly masked under the guise of de-Christing xMas... (it's the HOLIDAY season y'all)... in order to, I dunno, prevent someone from blowing up nativity scenes in Akron... I, myself, bemoan the secular holiday. I mean, who do you complain to if you don't want to participate in the reindeer games yet still need to buy toilet paper occasionally? I shouldn't have to punch babies in the face to get people to move faster through the narrow aisles... I really shouldn't.

I propose an xMas-free supermall. It would entail each store to be equipped with, instead of greeters, interrogators... so that if Lardy McMomstein tries to sneak out with non-gift tube socks in hopes of making them in to a present the staff would crack down on her faster than Brad Woodside on anti-family values at BOOM! on a Saturday night.

Maybe there are some wrinkles in the idea need ironing, but that's someone else's job, not mine.

I may just be a little cranky because I'm working on no sleep. I had a cup of coffee a little too late in the evening last night and found myself still up at 6 a.m. watching DVD special features in order to break down my braiwaves. I finally got to sleep around 6:30 a.m. and had a weird dream about wandering into my old high school to pee only to be caught up in some sort of group trivia/scavenger hunt nonesense involving dumpsters behind Chinese restaurants. At 9:30 a.m. I woke up rested, sort've, and allowed myself an extra half-hour... that unfortunately turned into an hour that turned into a blur of pants and toque yanking-on to make it to work on time. The rest of my day involved McDonald's, dry shaving in public washrooms and deflecting Pitney Bowes offers.

Ho, frigging, Ho.

Hey

It's really cold out.

Do you want to drive me home?

I'll give you these:



OK?

Favourite instore quote of the week

"He's a genius, he knows how to do things..."

-anonymous

Explain to me... Jazz

Smiling lady in her 70s enters the store:

Her: You ordered a CD for me... Prima... Louis?

Me: Louis Prima

Her: Yes Louis Prima

Me: Right here

Her: It's not for me, I've never heard of him. It's for my granddaughter.

Me: That's interesting music for a young person to be interested in.

Her: Well she's 25 and married.

Me: Oh. Still. It's fairly old style jazz music.

Her: Could be for her husband. He's an American.


This is Louis Prima



This is Julie Newmar

how to start a week

Having transgressed against my "no tv" edict last night... new episodes of Simpsons and Family Guy that were pretty crappy when it comes right down to it... I got up this morning with a song in my heart (Witchita Lineman by Glen Campbell) and a slight spring in my recently more orthopedically hampered step.

I kicked things off with a coffee and an outline of a postcard story I'm trying to bang out to submit by Thursday for a lit mag contest. Next a quick shower to fix up my bed-enhanced hipster 'do. My shower has been uncooperative lately. I think the cold water pipe leading in to the shower head has all but seized up. I get things just right through the bath faucet, pull the stopper and... MAGMA MAGMA MAGMA!!! I go crashing through my recently installed new shower curtain and nearly out the back window. All in all... no fun!

I head downtown to the Library to grab a couple of anti-TV supplements... what you would call books... for the week:

Jan Zwicky-Robinson's Crossing

Bret Easton Ellis-Lunar Park

I always like Jan's poetry... but really it's the Ellis book I've been curious about... and surprised to see the library got it so quickly (it was actually bought with book sale money... hmmm.) From the reviews I gather it essentially starts out as an autobiography and eventually becomes a murder mystery. What is fiction and what is fact shifts and intermeshes. I've only read a little Ellis, so maybe I'm not the ideal audience... we'll see.

The I hopped the 15S uptown to the Jubilee Super Buffet. I didn't make a special trip... I needed stuff at Staples and Sobey's... but still I felt the need for a little food-based overindulgence:



See? Super Cheap! And also I'm still figuring out the new bus line perambulations. I'm getting closer.

Also made a quick stop at Jingler's. A place I seldom get to... and it was overflowing with fine wrinkly American outerwear (and underwear... not terribly sexy stuff... although it was fun to see a 50ish woman dragging her baseball hatted husband along with her to browse through it for a new bra). The sheer heaping was staggering to the senses, so I grabbed one shirt so I could say I'd been there:


If you can't make it out, it says: Conneticut Women's Football. It's a big girl's shirt... I figure if you've been called it from time to time why not wear it.

Did my mall stuff then took the 13S to Regent Mall and transferred to the 16N down through campus to work. And here I am.

And that's how to start a week.

Thanks

the great brain defrost

After a few weeks of semi-intensive socialism (that is to say being social) this week has been fairly xenophobic.

I broke my television silence rule and dragged the many-headed beast directly into my bedroom last Sunday and hunkered deep down under the covers to watch my DVD box set of Firefly.


Like most people I'd not kept up with it when it was on (if it was even on a channel my speaker-wire-as-rabbit-ear system receives). It was the last of my reluctances after slowly surrendering to Buffy the Vampire Slayer and then Angel; it being another of the Joss Whedon-created shows. But Western in Space? I mean, come on!! But sure enough, like every other Whedon/DVD interface I gave in and drifted through all 14 episodes in the next 3-4 days. If you TV binge how do you TV purge?

The television went back into its cold storage last night, though. I'm trying to map out some creative work to dive into pre-Xmas crush. It's going slowly, but going... slowly.

John tried to give me a boost after breakfast... but I'm not sure my body is strong enough for his hardcore techniques:


Beware!!

How could anyone have seen this coming???

In case you wonder why I have posted in a while... it's just that the sad news has been too much to put into words. And just before Thanksgiving in the US, too.

Be brave, y'all.

Ice

I'm on the ice. Nothing works out here. Penguins suck.


This is a penguin.

week was, weak is, week will be

So in the real world... the one I've invented for myself to go through either completely unnoticed (that's me outside you're office window right now... don't look up... oops!) or as obvious as a drunk falling down two stories onto your picnic table... I've been trying to take in as much good music as possible in the bars and taverns of Fredericton.

Last Wednesday... that'd be November 9th... I booted 'er after work down to the mighty Bugaboo Creek to see a trio of Canadian bands: Controller Controller with Magneta Lane and Sylvie. Since I don't have complete control of this invented real world of mine, show time for the first band, Sylvie, didn't occur until around 11pm.

Sylvie

I'd missed Sylvie last time they were in town and had heard good things. Live they were fairly aggressive, but with lots of vocal harmonies and pedal effects. On CD they have a Jawbox feel... if you can imagine bassist Kim Coletta adding to lead vocals (I really miss Jawbox). Magneta Lane were just setting up to go on around 12:15 am... and I realized that in this real world I was getting very sleepy... veeerrrry sleeeeepy. So I went home. I figured the cool kids had come out to see Controller.Controller and the only way to be cooler (other than stay and carry on a loud conversation throughout their whole set) was to bail before they came on.

I took a break from the rock n roll real world on the weekend and instead waded upper-thigh deep into the real world of poetry readings and chapbook production. It was the Poetry Weekend at UNB with about 20-30 readers on Saturday and Sunday... enlightening, entertaining, gruelling. Interspersed with the performances I was helping my friend Brecken start to assemble her chapbook which is coming out soon with JackPine Press who do lovely limited run artbooks. Her book is being launched here in Fredericton in January in the last third of the month. Stay tuned.

I re-entered the RRW (Real Rock World) last night with a visit to The Cellar to see Cuff the Duke. I missed the opening act, but second up was a Toronto band called The Blue Raincoats, who are (usually) two young women on gtr and bass. One of the Raincoats apparently had fallen ill (see mom, you can protect yourself all you want and still get a cold) and a fill in second gtr took up the slack. The performance was a little too woozy/Lillith Fairy to keep my neck from getting a little rubbery. Soon enough the boys from Oshawa took the stage.

Cuff the Duke

They did a shortish set playing mostly from their new album (which I've yet to purchase... why? Don't ask me I live in the RRW). It was good, but not as energetic and diverse as I've seen from them in the past. Maybe rocking a Wednesday is harder for some.

On the horizon is a weekend of music. An old acquaintance of mine,

Selina Martin

is playing a couple of shows at the Capital on Friday and Saturday. On Friday she's opening for Les Paiens, then on Saturday she's headlining. So come out (Saturday would be the best) and help me to rock in the RRW... if only in my mind.

taxi cab confessions

So I have to take a cab at least 3 times a week. Tuesday through Thursday I work at Backstreet Records from 11 am to 5 pm, then at a Media Lab of UNB from 5 pm to 10 pm. If you take careful note you'll see the ending and starting time of the day/night job transfer is pretty darn close... one could say identical. Through the grace of my indispensibleness (sp? wd?) I make it work by leaving the first job about 5 min. early and getting to the second about 5 min. late. But the in between moments find me in... a cab.

A large percentage of my cab rides are uneventful. Lately I've been tending to get drivers who say very little, except when facing imminent collision with something. Even then it's more noises from the chest than actual verbal communication. Of those that do speak most are fun to talk to... ranging from the "weather" and "traffic" banalities all the way up real conversations. And since I take so many cabs, all from the same cab company, these conversations sometimes pick up after days/weeks have elapsed.

There exists a breed of driver who is wholly other, though. They speak, yes, and a lot. But rather than conversations what they have is a one man/woman play that has non-stop showings as long as the passenger seat is full. Here is the recent showing:

Today: Since you didn't ask

Scene: Cab pulls up to the curb on Queen St. Catch a quick glimpse of the driver as I open the door and slide into my seat: about 275 lbs. Unshaven. Smells like a haybale left out behind a butcher's shop.

DRIVER:[...as I'm getting in cab] Hey, Backstreet Recorrrrdsssss!!!

ME: Heh heh, yeah I...

DRIVER: Almost didn't make it there, traffic, and... traffic. Ha Ha.

ME: Yeah, well, uh, Marshall D'Avray Hall, UNB... VIP.

DRIVER: Got a VIP to UNB, yeah!!! I feel like a VIP too. Got me a big doe over the weekend.

ME: Oh, uh, that's...

DRIVER: Yeah! I go way back in the woods, couple of miles, that's the way I hunt. It's the only way to hunt if you ask me. Give the deers a chance. Meet them where they live. Not putting bait out and waiting... going out and finding them.

ME: Yeah, that's...

DRIVER: And I love the meat. Deer steaks. It was a big doe. There's gonna be lots. I guess I blame it on my father... he took me out rabbit hunting when I was six. A bunch of us used to go out pheasant hunting with pellet guns back then too. But this deer, she took a long time to get out of the woods. Big.

ME: Yeah, and it's...

DRIVER: Ground's soft. Mud. Took four hours to drag out. Shoulder's killing me where I had the ropes... but I got 'er out. Ran into three guys I know just at the end, helped me get her onto the car. I said, "where were you guys four hours ago?" but still it was a help. I don't think we're going to turn here [Brunswick St.] Traffic. Go all the way up. Yeah anyway, I'll have steaks for a while. And I like them. That's why I hunt. [passing Jewish assembly hall on Westmorland, lights are on] Must be something going on in there. "Established 1968." That's nearly when I was established... I'm a few years earlier... 1962. But I probably was established earlier... ha ha... I was born in January, so I guess I was established in 1961, ha ha. [getting to the corner of Westmorland and Dundonald] I should've turned before. Now here's the traffic. No wait... [truck Eastbound on Dundonald signalling to turn left on Westmorland, car more slowly approaching Westbound signalling to turn right on Westmorland... truck hesitates making the left hand across the two lanes] ...ahhhh, thought we'd caught a break there!!! He could've made that turn... the other guy was coming so slow...

ME: Well that's...

DRIVER: I could've made it. But I guess I'm out here all the time, you learn how to do it. Five years driving, 70 hours a week, no accidents, all my points. It's like whatever you study... you study?

ME: ...Me? Well yeah, but not now, I...

DRIVER: ...And whatever you studied you got good at right? I couldn't do it, I didn't study it. But I drive. I have my whole family on my insurance policy, you know. And it's only $80 a month. I was supposed to make my payment on Monday, but I didn't make it in, because I was in the woods getting my deer, you remember? Anyway the girl, she said, "Well, It was due yesterday," but I couldn't help it... I was in the woods, things come up. But she was just teasing me anyway. I've been going to them for 25 years. Allstate. My whole family's on my policy. But you can never get far ahead with cash... even when you're saving on payments. Just on my way to work the other day, hole in my transmission... took my whole week's pay, then I was late with rent... not that it's a problem, I rent from a buddy... but you think you're a little ahead then, WHAM! No more. [pulling onto campus] You want the front of D'Avray...?

ME: The back is fine.

DRIVER: Yeah! I took the back way in a few times when I was younger... ha ha. I had a buddy took the back way in one time... the back way into the house to see this guy's wife, but the guy found out... so it didn't go over, y'know. But, it's ironic... the guy ran after my buddy with a bat, a baseball bat, and eventually caught up and gave him one right in the mouth... broke all my buddy's front teeth, y'know? But in the end the guy had to pay for the dental to fix it... ironic. Right? OK, here we are.

End Scene

Next time I'll tell you the tale of the middle age lesbian and her reincarnated cat.

what the...?

Do you see that? On the ground?


Right under the sign?

SNOW!!!

What are we gonna do now, man? Game over, man!!

name that band!!!

FINE YOUNG CANNIBALS?
FOUR MAN ELECTRICAL BAND?
JOURNEY?

Adaption::Evolution as ???::Country Music

A day in the life. Tuesday.

Part I: Morning

Two things had to be done this morning before I opened the store at 11 am... 1) I had to drop a DVD... one which I didn't watch... back at Video King on Regent St. But I had to drop it off before they open because it's a day late and I wanted to delay paying the fees, given that this is the logical, patriotic video rental etiquette. Only I don't know if they open at 10 am or 11 am. 2) I had to make my way up to Future Shop because I have a couple of customers who pre-ordered the new Kate Bush CD, "Ariel." Given that it's her first new album in 12 years these people are righteously stoked. Unfortunately a blip in my ordering schedule has made getting it from our distributor on time imPOSSible... so, since Future Shop's sale price is a mere fiddy cents more than our wholesale price (damn you box stores!!!) I go the extra 3/4 mile for my peeps. However, to get to the top of the hill first thing in the morning is a physical feat my physical form no longer performs... but to take a cab up further bumps the financial viability of this endeavour downwards. The two birds/uno stone epiphany comes: walk downtown for around 9:30 am... drop the movie off in the movie holey-hole at Video King, then truck over to King's Place and take THE BUS uptown. Yay!!!

So it went. I took the 16S up through campus. It was the first time in a long while that I've been on a Fredericton bus where people had to stand for lack of space. At Future Shop I grabbed 3 copies of the CD... and if you buy multiples of any one thing they give you the retail stink eye... but I can get as good as give. The downhill trip was done on foot... easy peasy. Cross the parking lot at FHS then down York all the way, listening to The Most Serene Republic yelp about sad songs made sadder. I'm pulled to the curb by a man and son in a pickup truck travelling up York who ask my advice on how to get to the airport. So I confidently send them back down the hill, all the way to the corner of Queen and tell them to follow it all the way 'til it turns into Waterloo Row then all the way up Waterloo row until it forks into Forest Hill and Lincoln... look for the Airport sign indicated there. My good samaritan feeling slowly evaporate a few minutes later when I realized I'd sent them the wrong way on the Queen St. one way. Not the first time I've done that.

Part II : Afternoon

The store's been a little slow this week... cold snap + slow slide out of Rocktober and into Xmas generally cools things off. A few small orders trickle in including one unexpected COD from Sonic Unyon who shipped 5 CDs in a little box and charged me $16.00 for the shipping. HuH?? A call was made, gripes were registered. My daily fun phone call was from a woman who asked if we sold "Vinyl Record Albums." She'd obviously been taking a class in advanced redundancy at the College School Institute. The other minor chuckle of the day was from The Playhouse. They are putting on a show by "Legendary British Folk/Rockers" The Strawbs as an acoustic trio. Apparently the tickets sales have been "sluggish" so they asked us to have our customers fill out ballots for a draw to give out some freebies... fill up the seats, y'know. The promotions person grabbed the filled-out ballots around 1 pm... then around 4 pm I got the first of 5 phone calls from customers telling me they'd won the draw. Wow. The house must be pretty empty.

Part III: Evening

I had a short evening up at the lab... I had scheduled to be off at 7:00 pm. A week and a half ago (or so) I'd gotten an e-mail from a friend/ex-classmate in Montreal saying a friend of theirs was travelling from MTL to Halifax on this date and wondered if I could either a) entertain them for a little bit on a stopover or b) put them up overnight on a longer stopover. Where I am sometimes less of a bastard than others I agreed. I didn't hear back from anyone during the ensuing week (and being the laissee faire kinda guy people pay to be friends with I didn't make any effort to find out if all of this was still on until the night of). So I cabbed down at 7:00 pm only to discover a message saying the person had driven straight through, having left early in the day and drank lots of coffee (ideally). So there I was with (part of) a night off!!! But what to do??

Normally this precious free time would have been utterly squandered watching E-Now or Entertainment Tonight Canada or The Paint Drying Network... BUT... as of Monday I've imposed a moratorium on TV. Nay, more than moratorium, I've in fact banished my television to the ROOM I NEVER GO INTO of my apartment. In the first day of cathode-free living I've managed to read two thirds of a short story collection by Z Z Packer called Drinking Coffee Elsewhere. Tonight, however a different thought occurred to me. In the course of deflecting the seemingly innumerable pre-holiday charity solicitations I'd been sufficiently weakened to fall sucker to a Red Cross appeal. Oh Conscience, My Conscience. Part of the donation gave me entrance to An Evening of Country Music at The Royal Canadian Legion Branch #4. Soooooo...

In my mind this is what I heard (i.e. my left brain/right brain bored brain/beer drinking brain kicking up a little electrical storm): Why not go down... hang out at the back of the bar and see what a night at the Legion is like. Hell we went to the 20/twenty club at Hallowe'en... this could be the only uncrossed frontier left for a nearly young man to break though. My mental picture poofed once I got there and found out the show wasn't in the bar but upstairs in what must be the Bingo Room. It's laid out like Amateur Night at the Church Social... all stackable chairs row on row and a smaaaaaallllll stage at the front. But, in for a penny.... You could buy beer, but I stuck with water... probably due to the systems shock. I waited for the room to fill up (capacity was 275), but it topped off around 60 people. I thought: well at least it isn't only the indie rock shows that have off nights in good ol' F'ton.

The show went down like this: A KHJ lady introduced the evening and the first performer... a local act I'd never heard of... who did two songs. I thought: That's nice, giving an up-and-comer a brief taste of the big time. Then the first of the five headliners came on and performed two songs, introduced the next performer who did two songs... y'see the pattern??? Four of the five were male artists with acoustic guitar and all five were backed up by a second seated acoustic guitar player and an electric bass player. There was a brief intermission after the cavalcade was finished and after the break all five artists got up on stage together and each did a song, passed along to the next, then did a second song when their turn came back around. The second song had a Christmas Theme. Finally they all sang a song together recorded as a fundraiser last Xmas during the first similar X-Canada tour (this was the second). And that was that. It was about 10:30 pm.

The thing of it is... during the intermission I spoke with a few people sitting around me in the audience and everyone was so g-ddamn nice!!! I was mentally readying myself for the mockiest of mock-fests... but my irony essentially got the shit kicked out of it. One grandmother in her early 60s talked with me about how she was a little disappointed with the turnout, wishing it had been better promoted and maybe put in a bar like the Rockin' Rodeo instead of the Legion, which was a good venue but with a stigma that only "Old folks" might attend a show there. Essentially it was the same conversation I have with a half dozen indie and/or punk hipsters every week at the store. She had a deep deep love for Duane Steele and brought her grandson, who looked about 12 or 13, to the show with her. Yep.

Moments after the show ended all the performers were back out front among the small crowd shaking hands, signing pictures and CDs. Since I'd stuck it out through the whole extravaganza I figured I should at least say hello to one of the artists... so I picked Diane Chase for reasons both practical (she was nearest to where I was standing), and epicurean (see for yourselves). She is a nice lady from Sudbury whose mom lived for a while in Bathurst... does a lot of these charity show, including just getting back from a Red Cross tour of Afghanistan and the Persian Gulf... and somehow manages to look simultaneously born to be watched on stage and then like a nice (but hot) young aunt at a wedding reception. And humble, of course (it's a Country Music gene likely already copywritten by Garth Brooks). We talked for a bit, then she took a second to sign an autograph for the 3 year old daughter of a lady-fan, sitting with the kid on her lap while she did it. I'm sure this is how Interpol's aftershow ritual usually goes too.

Finally it occurred to me this would be a great opportunity to activate my recently discovered alter-ego of "Joseph." I'll explain this development to you a bit later... but for now I'll just say that Joseph has discovered he is a Diane Chase fan.



Then home to bed.

learning by accident

As I begin my working week I find myself already discovering new ways to not do my deadline oriented tasks (Exclaim! reviews, Fiddlehead reading, store stuff). Instead I've been poking around Google Local trying to look in people's windows and so forth. In a little satellite flyover of my point of origin (Gaspe Coast) I noticed a circular lake a little north of the peninsula.



Probably some of you already know about Lake Manicougan, but I am geographically illiterate so it was all news to me. Click on the link (Lake Manicougan name) to learn that happenings in Quebec may have killed the dinosaurs. Makes separatism look quaint in comparison, no?

Marc of the North, North once more

Alas, back to the 'Nun for you.

Thought of the day

Everything is room temperature of the room you're in.

oh, also

the week that was, what?

It's been one of those weeks that seemed to loop back around on itself like a pretzel until you weren't sure if it actually had begun somewhere nor that it had a definite end.

But here we are: TGIT (thank god it's thursday).

Last week I worked my standard Monday to Thursday... but also put in a Friday at the store... not my usual schedule. It was so I could take Saturday off to enjoy the Acadian Lines bus tour to Campbellton. It was to attend a birthday dinner for my mom put on by her three siblings... the kind of surprise party which is a surprise to no one but still had to be referred to and played out as though someone was surprised... which they weren't.

But it was a nice enough affair... got to catch up a little with folks, find out who's achieving, who's on drugs, who's having babies, etc.

A couple of days later (Monday) and it was back on the bus. Schedules being aligned as they were I took advantage of the bus getting back into Fredericton just around 5 pm to then jump in a taxi and come straight up to work at the lab. Made for a groggy night.

The week went on, still, onwards. Rain made it seem all the more like one long day.

But here we are: TGIT!! No work tomorrow.

So tonight we rejoice with:

the human unconditioning

It's been a little while since my last diatribe about daily interaction with "the public," so I will present to you a double shot from both of my service-oriented jobs:

1. The Record Store

phone rings

Me: Backstreet.

Woman: Hi. I don't know if you can help me out... I have a strange request [they all do]. I'm looking for a Shania Twain track...

Me: [trying to interrupt] We don't sell...

Woman: [going on uninterrupted] ...called "I'm Holding onto Love" [or something approx.], but with the words taken out.

Me: You mean a karaoke CD.

Woman: Absolutely Not! I need the music to sing along to at my wedding, but the words, the singing has to be taken out.

Me: What you want is a karaoke CD.

Woman: Well, I guess if there's no way to get what I'm looking for I'll have to use a karaoke CD.

Me: No. What I'm saying is what you're asking for IS a karaoke CD. A karaoke CD has the music only, no lyrics, you sing along. That's karaoke.

Woman: Oh. Well do you have the Shania Twain karaoke disc?

Me: No we don't sell karaoke discs.

-------------

2. The Computer Lab

Late-40s woman comes barrelling in with a textbook and a wild, needy look about her.

Woman: [pointing at printers in room behind me] Do your photocopiers work on cash or copy card?

Me: [indicating the actual copier to her left] That's our copier, and it only works with copy cards.

Woman: I'm just up in Fredericton for this one class, I've got to go back..., but I've got to have this, or else... god! Do STU [St. Thomas University] copy cards work in these copiers? {She pulls out a card from the Ward Chipman Library from UNB Saint John]

Me: That doesn't look like it'll work.

Woman: They should all be the same. I hate.... Well, can I buy a card from you?

Me: We don't sell them, only Imaging Services, but their office hours end at 4:30 or 5:00 pm.

Woman: Where can I buy one now?

Me: The Harriet Irving Library. But if you want to copy for cash you can go to the Paper Trail in the Student Union Building.

Woman: I don't have time. This is my professor's book. We're just on a break. What if I give you cash?

Me: What would I do with the cash? The copier doesn't take cash.

Woman: I have three children. [I have no clue what that's supposed to mean] I'll give you $20.

Me: Again, what for?

Woman: To copy these pages for me! [pointing at printers in the back again] On your photocopiers!! Those are photocopiers!!!

Me: No. Those are printers. That's the photocopier. It only takes copy cards.

Woman: But how do you copy things. Don't you have a card!?!

Me: I don't have to copy things. I don't have a card.

Woman: ...Or a soul apparently!!! [storms out]


The morale of the stories:

#1 Some people aren't smart enough for karaoke.
#2 Maybe we aren't paying teachers too little after all.

only the strong survive.

How not to: Diet Tips #1

oy my aching musk ox!!

Cooking with Pressure.
or
Advanced Classes in Bad Alchemy.

This past weekend saw the pre-figured arrival of Marc Bragdon, or Marc of the North as I like to call him. As is our tribe's way of doing things... you know, together... we huddled around tables in what we refer to as "Night Spots," though not the early teenage kind you might be picturing... and shame on you for that. What amazes is how folks like us, mildly advanced in matters of culture, technology, inter-personal politics, music and the ways of animal migration, can be reduced to slobbering shouting teenagers by tiny vials of amber liquid.

Our bar-hopping was two-footed if not sure-footed, and in retrospect quite a drain on the ol' right front pocket. But misinterpreted geography and early exhuberance followed by several shots to the mouth from the hand through the bending of the elbow fogged over my participatory powers early on. Most of the post-Taproom evening was viewed through what felt like slightly steamed diving goggles.

During a foray into the Creek they call "Bugaboo," we watched as a band who's name we did not know failed to entertain us. I am told that my hoots and ironic "devil horn" throwing was under appreciated by some at nearby tables, probably attached to the band in some way. Forgive me. I hoot when I'm happy. I hoot when I'm sad. I hoot when I'm confused and can't decide. Much later (well just tonight) I've come to find that the band was Colonial Quarrels who are an "offshoot," or at least share two members with Moncton's Peter Parkers, a band I quite like. While I'm generally easier to impress when "tipsy," I'll have to reserve final judgement until I can hear them with both ears and a full (or less full) head.

We seemed to walk for several blocks each time we left a bar... so I'm not entirely sure if we went to one or two bars next... so... but... eventually we decided on The Capital as a key place to wrap up the evening. However, as we re-navigated our way there we passed in front of the Creek once more... and from inside I heard the sounds of violin, cello and three part harmony. Indeed it was A Northern Chorus

who I knew were slated to play. The sound drew me inside while the others continued on. So I parked myself on the floor below the merch table and drifted along for the rest of their set.

I failed to find the rest of my expedition crew post-show, so I did what any explorer would do: Head for the Poutine truck. The rest was just about the wandering home.

Postscript. If I left a message on more than the one answering machine I've already been told about... please disregard what I might have said. It was probably true, but still. Sorry again. I hoot you know.

...but the end is nowhere nigh!

It's been an hectic couple of weeks.

Late September/early October is the busy season for Indie rock. Schools back in... bands are touring... there are festivals everywhere... and everyone puts out a new "must have" album around this time. So each week brings a new necessary preparedness for this next big release... Last week it was Metric and Franz Ferdinand. This week it's Broken Social Scene and Controller Controller. Next week it's Animal Collective and Boards of Canada. Luckily it slows down near the beginning of November.

But November brings the next phase in head-scratching and teeth-gnashing: The Year End List!

Writing for the Destination Out and Pop Rock sections of Exclaim! means I have to come up with 2 different lists. The good side (and there is no real bad side) is that you have to go back and relisten to a years' worth of music. After the "shock of the new" all October it is more of a Zen thing. I'd tell you what I'm leaning towards, but then I'd start feeling like I can't change my mind... so....

Went to see

The Fembots

on Tuesday at the Taproom. They were playing as a five piece with acoustic guitar, keyboards, bass, drums and vibes. I haven't gotten the new album yet, but what I've heard of it sounded great... and live was super too... mournful country with the lounge bells a-ringin'.

They were accompanied by Special Noise from Halifax as well as fellow Haligonian, recently reunited North of America. The loud band, quieter band, loudest band scenario wasn't perfect flow-wise, but it made for an entertaining night.

Now we'll have to see if A Nothern Chorus can survive a Friday night (this Friday night) at Bugaboo Creek. Perhaps also hosting the semi-triumphant return of Marc Bragdon!!! Be where?

out of my chair

I lost a couple of weeks there.

Or rather I did more stuff instead of just writing about the stuff I wasn't doing. For instance:

I went to two shows in the last little while.
The first was the Most Serene Republic at the Capital on Thursday September 22nd.

They put on a great show... members spilling halfway up the stairs off the narrow shallow Capital stage. A lot of energy, a lot of variety, much in the way of unexpected twists and turns.... One thing, a little thing, which made a lot of difference: the keyboard player had little themes which he played in between songs, effectively covering up the dead spots while people drank water or retuned or whatever. It really is the little things that please me I guess.

The next show was The Inflation Kills at Bugaboo Creek on Tuesday September 27th.

It was Tuesday. It was Bugaboo Creek. It was Fredericton.
On Vinyl and Crosstown Rivals were slated to open, but Rock and Roll flu symptoms knocked OV off the bill. A "crowd" of about 15-20 people stuck it out through to the end of the evening. A good show of solidarity. The Inflation Kills are a band made up from remnants of Kitchens and Bathrooms (the band, not the actual rooms). They have a post-punk, Drive Like Jehu-ish feel to them... and great stream of consciousness lyrics.

Other than the rock it's mostly been work and scratching my head over the things to do/accomplish:

1) Need new shoes... I'm picky (not about brand... but sorta about style and definitely about cash)
2) Gotta (always) keep sorting through the new music to keep the reviews current on Surgery blog and in Exclaim!
3) Tons of stuff I want to read... keep falling asleep
4) Learn more HTML
5) Eat. Better.

I watch a little bit of a call in show on French CBC-TV in the mornings... it's essentially a moderator, two debaters and whoever happens not to have anything better to do. Sorta like the "Cross-Country Checkup" on the radio.
One of the recent topics had to do with Public vs. Private health care. A gentleman caller (heh heh) wanted to make a point that he was for private health care... and it was because he went to a clinic near his home and they had wonderful x-ray equipment and it took no time to get his results back, etc. The moderator asked him how much it cost him and the gentleman said it was free. Ergo, the moderator said, it was a public health clinic, not a private one. The gentleman protested saying it was a clinic that had built itself up on its own... funded by the Government.

People are funny.

One day one chair.

You know if you sit in one spot for a long time in can actually do you more physical damage than a day spent doing heavy lifting or wind sprints or reaching for stuff high up in cupboards.

Sunday was my onliest full day off this past weekend... so to make the most of it all (theoretically) I went over to Howard's on Saturday night to get as far away from Harmless Jazz and Booze as possible. Sometimes the combination of beer and music is in just the right balance, but this Saturday the beer end of the teeter-totter was closest to the ground. Blame it on the rain.

Getting home was no problem... just knowing what time it was when I got to bed... that isn't so clear. From how I felt when John called me for breakfast at 10:30 am I'd say it was quite late... and that I possibly pulled a rose bush and not a blanket over top of me. Seeing as John made the early morning drive in from Chipman where he was visiting the country home of Phil Clark I thought the least I could do was pull my act together.

In any case I had a Fiddlehead poetry meeting at 2 pm. Plowing through and rejecting many many submissions is not a very hangover-friendly activity either.

So come 5 pm I dragged myself back home, reclined my recliner and "watched." which is to say slept through, several movies... recently purchased and otherwise. The foreseeable but still unavoided problem with this is that when actual bedtime came around there was little in the way of sleep to be had. I managed about 2 hours from 2 to 4 am then wide awake. Being too groggy to do anything requiring brain-having I parked myself back in the chair, pulled a blanket up to my chin chin, and used that recently arrived at anaesthetic: the audio commentary track. Slept like a hungover baby.

So now I'm still in the land of grog. Hopefully tonight I'll be able to reschedulize myself and avoid prolonged exposure to the insight provided by any number of ESL production designers/directors of photography.

Wish me luck.

Last Weekend, Not Lost...

First I have to apologize how the photo layout of the blog looks on certain browsers. I'm not savvy enough to perform this design with pinpoint accuracy... all I can say is it looked fine in Explorer on a PC, which is neither the browser or the computer I normally work with.

So.

This is the last weekend, upcoming, before my evenings become work-filled. As of next Monday the 12th I'm back for another season of computer filled Hijinx at the D'Avray Lab. The upside is that updates will be constantly upcoming. The downside is that I will have nothing to write about 'coz I'll have no "outside world" time to do anything with.

Que serapi serapi.

With that I'll go out there and squeeze in a little mischief before the gettings no longer good.

everywhere

Coming to the end of the summer months... I've been everywhere but home (well where I usually sleep anyway) for the last three or four weeks:

House sitting at Howard and Linda's

(Not actually H&L's but you get the idea)

Playing a Show in Ottawa


Visiting my folks in Campbellton (well, Matapedia)







And now I'm in Florenceville visiting Mandy









If anyone is near my apartment could you break in and do my dishes please?

Don't take anything though!!!

Well you can have the bills.

Enjoy.

And here I thought

...it might not rain this morning. But it's 7:30 a.m. and... it's raining.

I've been house sitting at my friends' Howard and Linda's place for the last week and a bit. Except for last Wednesday morning the rain has foiled my attempts to walk to work in the morning... it's a 50+ minute walk so it's tough to dodge raindrops all that way. The Fredericton bus schedule leaves little in the leeway way. So it's either be an hour early for work or an hour and a quarter late.

Now it's raining really hard.

The wind last night blew apart the mosquito netting enclosure on the back deck. I know it's not as devastating as the whole hurricane thingy, but it affects ME directly. I apologize.

One benefit of the distance from the *ahem* city centre is the possibility of an uninterrupted timespan to get work done... i.e. reviews, writing, reading (no 'rithmetic, though). However this house comes appointed not only with tools which make this work simpler and pleasureable (computers, coffee makers, light bulbs), but also tools which make this work easy to put off (computers, satellite television, playstation games, lightbulbs).

I have managed to put up a new show on my radio blog, SURGERY, and have been listening and re-listening to new music I've promised to review on the page... but I've gotten bogged down trying to decide on how to present the reviews. I'd like to put up a more interactive html model versus a simpler linked-to-only word document, but the two parts of my work ethic... copy+paste+get it over with AND/OR study+research+obsess for days and days... are at war with each other as usual.

Hey, now it's raining really hard.

Marc and Andrea visited last week... didn't get to see them much as they were cruising the seashores and I was visiting my folks up north... but since I had just been up to Ottawa it wasn't such a big deal. A session of making wax dice at John and James' last backyard party at 220 Church was a pleasant way to wish them off to their Manitoba leg of touring.

John Born and James MacGregor have moved into their respective Saunders St. enclaves. Don't know if they have backyards there... but we all know it wouldn't be the same... ah well.

Hey, now it's raining a little softer... but it's still raining.

The store has been unusually busy for late August... lots of interesting used stuff coming in to sell. And of course the pre-requisite phone inquiries about rubbish vinyl. Here is a nearly verbatim example... it occured yesterday, but believe me, this same conversation recurs on a twice weekly basis:

Telephone: ring ring

Me: Backstreet

The Guy: Yeah... uh... do yous buy records [note the yous part is not a typo]

Me: Yes [to be read tersely, with a little intake of breath in preparation for the stock interaction about to occur] but we're only doing trade at the moment because we've already purchase a few hundred records and a couple hundred CDs this week [true].

The Guy: Uh... well, yeah... I have about a thousand records to sell. How much do you pay?

Me: [Breath, prepare stock spiel] It depends on the condition of the record, the title, whether or not it's something we think we can resell. Our sale prices for average stuff is between a dollar and five bucks and we offer a third of that amount in cash and half in trade.

The Guy: Well... Uh... I have about a thousand.

Me: Yeah. Do you have a list? What type of music is it mostly?

The Guy: All different.

Me: [Already aged two weeks in the last 45 seconds] So every record is completely different from the previous one?

The Guy: No... Well... there's a lot of opera and country... and...

Me: [interrupting] We don't take in classical or country... or easy listening.

The Guy: ...you don't sell Country!!!

Me: No.

The Guy: That's the only music worth listening to these days.

Me: Well, you see most of our customers tend to be between the ages of 15 and 25 so opera and country aren't really what they're into [note: invariably whenever I say this over the phone there happens to be a man/woman in their forties in the store proving be wrong]. We mostly are after classic rock... stuff like Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath... that sells best for us, but we really like punk, metal, new wave, folk, jazz, blues, etc.

The Guy: What about box sets?

Me: Of vinyl?

The Guy: Yeah.

Me: Not usually, especially if they're Time Life or Readers Digest collections, they have no resale value for us. What do you have, for example... do you have any Beatles, Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd...?

The Guy: Well... uh, let's see... [sounds of fumbling around] this one is a box, it says "Great..." uh, "...Recordings of... Classic Operas" ...and it's from Readers Digest.

[note: I wish I was making this shit up, but...]

Me: Again, we don't take classical, we don't take boxes, we don't take Readers Digest.

The Guy: Oh, uh... ok this one is jazz...

Me: Is it a box?

The Guy: Yeah, uh, but I can't tell who made it. I think it's from the U.S.

Me: We don't take boxes. Do you have anything that isn't a box you could tell me about? [note: at a certain easily determinable point in any of these conversations you will realize you can be as direct/rude to people like this, short of asking them to take one of your organs into one of their orifices and they will not realize that you're being impolite] Maybe something I said we do take... like The Beatles?

The Guy: Well... uh, let me go over to another box over here... if the phone can reach... heh heh... they're kind of everywhere.

Me: [silence]

The Guy: What's this one? I can't really make out the writing... Hits of...

Me: Don't you know if you have any classic rock... 60s, 70s, 80s even.. anything along those lines?

The Guy: Well, I'm not sure.

Me: Are these your records your selling?

The Guy: Yeah... yeah.

Me: Why don't you know what any of them are, then?

The Guy: It's been a while since I bought them. Why don't I go through them and give you a call back later?

Me: Yeah... [sigh] ...we don't take country, classical, easy listening... so no opera, no Barabara Mandrell, no Gospelaires, no Neil Diamond... ok?

The Guy: Yeah... yeah, I'll call back later.

Me: OK.

No further contact was made.

The rain is letting up a little... stopping even... I'll likely try to give the walk its due chances. I can almost guarantee 24 minutes out what will happen...

it is a capital idea

Hey,

I'm in Ottawa. I'd show you a picture of where I am, but I didn't bring up a camera, nor does the version of explorer installed on this computer display the funny little "add picture" icon... so that's that. Look up Ottawa Ontario on google... you'll see what it looks like.

The bus trip up was pretty good... the usual blend of comforting immobilization and discomforting sweat from having a largish senior citizen from Kingston fall asleep leaning on you. I coped with it all by playing the most recent Eluvium CD 8 or 10 times in a row between Riviere du Loup and Montreal.

Our performance is tonight... I'm excited/aprehensive... have that familiar pre-preformance loosening of the bowels. It took a while yesterday afternoon to get all of the media on Marc's laptop... it was nearly full to the top and needed emptying before all the sound files could be added. The sound editor I'm (ab)using for the show has been trying some idiosyncratic methods of working that don't always involve always actually "working" so I'm a little squeamish about that.

It seems like in all the not-so-many times I've done sound performances I've never had the same audio set up twice... that plus a reliance on mostly borrowed equipment is kinda like getting invited to parties where you're not sure anyone you know will be attending.

Another up-and-downside to the trip is that it always seems like there is just a little too little time to see and do all the people and... er... things you'd like. I feel like I'm always short-changing someone... reverse-selfishly it's usually myself... or is that massive-passive aggressively?

You tell me.

Well back to it.

The Health of Welfaring

Sluggish.

At the end of another 6 hour stretch at the lab tweaking sounds, burning CDs and DVDs, uploading files to FTPs (just in case), I'm officially burnt out.

I was burnt out on Saturday when I came up and sat in front of the computer for 5 hours wishing it would just develop A.I. and take care of me instead of vice versa.

I was burnt out on Sunday when I came back up at 9 am and work through 'til 5 pm, breaking only for a nutrient-weak*** lunch of burritos and ring-o-los (with 2% milk to build my bones).

Now I'm also burnt out.

So it goes.

I reached a point on Sunday where I just felt like I'd lost the point to it all... sorta, "I don't enjoy performing this stuff and no one really enjoys listening to it... so why am I working dozens of hours on fart noises then taking a 13 hour bus ride to do this?" Fortunately I've come to recognize this as my very usual pre-show depression... kinda like post-partum, but in reverse.

***Oh yeah... the "nutrient" thing jumped up and bit me on the ass a week and a half ago... I'd been a pretty good boy, diligently taking the prescribed Prevacid (at $80+ a month for we non-Blue Crossed) daily or every other daily; then my prescription ran out smack in the early stages of a house-sitting stint at my friends Howard and Linda's. My stomach had been feeling tons better so the initial absence of my morning pill-pop went largely unnoticed... no pill bottle on the bathroom sink, out of mind. Likewise my pretty stuck-to diet routine went out the window as I chowed down on snack foods and upped my coffee intake to counter early cat-induced risings.

About a week into the bad-diet, drugless stretch I started to get diarrhea... I had bought some questionable sandwich fixins at Victory and I wrote it up to that... but a day later I started getting cramps... little ones at first... then bad ones... then bad ones every 5-10 minutes... which went on like this for 2 and a half days... sleep was difficult as each cramp woke me up... eating was impossible outside of broth and yoghurt...

At first opportunity I re-filled my prescription and popped like a speed freak, topping off with Eno and Pepto and any other "O" ending substance I could grab... eventually my tummy settled and sleep returned.

Even the cat looked happier.

Now if I can just get this show behind me... no, really FUN FUN FUN

And this is going on later

Sometimes (usually) I end up working longer on the poster than the performance. By the way, Friday the 12th is the right date... not Thursday as previously mentioned.

The Summer of my Swedish cousin

Well not really.

Mikael Bengtsson is not my cousin... I never really met him until Saturday night... but it sounds like a zany coming of age foreign film title, doesn't it?

Mikael records and plays shows under the name Juni Jarvi... formerly he was known as Juniper, but apparently a Christian rock band shared that name, thus the change. He came over to New Brunswick for a wedding in the area and stuck around for a vacation and to play a couple of shows including one at The Capital in Fredericton.


He played two short sets featuring mostly the same material... not a prolific writer, though he did debut a new song written to celebrate the nuptials. His quiet style on finger plucked acoustic guitar and more uptempo ukelele (with occasional iPod accompaniment) did not exactly meet the prevailing mood of a Saturday night jam-jacked groove hounds. Luckily the small crowd was respectful, excepting a couple of boiled-meat brain buffoons congratulating each other briefly on their comic styleee at the bar (sample: "heh, heh, give the guy a break... heh, heh... his dog died and his truck won't start... heh, heh." You have to imagine this repartee as being a few decibels louder than the actual musical performance which, ostensibly, everyone else in the room had been paying attention to).

Anyhow it was rough edged, sloppy good fun, and even well worth the subsequent horror of walking home up York, cutting through the parking lot between Sobeys and the 20/20 Club right around closing time... just in time to witness the disgorging of it's clientele... not unlike seeing misshapen, makeup-less clowns stumbling out of the big top at the end of a long days work.

Here's Juni's website and a song he performed called Rooftops, though this is not from the Capital performance but live from an earlier show. Enjoy.

When I turn around, there I am

It's already halfway through summer. Or at least the four month period from May to September I think of as summer. The threat of having to try and cram the next seven weeks with as much fun/productivity as possible looms... large.

I'm counting working on blogs as productive.

Much other productivity will have to be directed towards an upcoming show I'm performing at in Ottawa. Marc Leblanc invited me to play with him at this new festival which is taking place on weekend throughout July and August. Our gig is on Thursday August 11th at the Mercury Lounge. If you're in or around Ottawa come out and see us.

I'll try and post some of the sound work here as it progresses.

Surgery and other time wasters

So,

I finally got the Surgery radio blog up and running. It took a while to secure the ftp space and a little while more to figure out (with help) the most effective linking system to open the files. They're all there now... seven 1 hour shows worth of blips and bleeps and hums.

Otherwise things have been going all summery w/ tickles... in the throat that is. It seems like I'm coming down with my third cold/flu so far this year... making up for not having one for such a loooong time in years preceding. Or maybe it's just hypochondria. Do hypochondriacs worry that they're becoming hypochondriacs? Do they worry they're not going to the doctor when they're sick because they worry others will think they're becoming hypochondriacs? Is there a more accurate term for this quandry?

I lost a week of my life to rain and television last week. Housesitting and kitty sitting resulted in incidental exposure to satellite television for the first time in a long while. It was rainy and cold for the whole week, more or less giving me positive reinforcement for the idea of zombifying myself for hours on end. The scary part is the potential I have for going without sleep while sitting in front of the thing. Late night talk shows, months old movies, even sci-fi reruns keep me vaguely conscious until late night/early morning... then I'm taken in by the early morning news. I may have averaged 4 hours sleep a night.

On a not unrelated note, my new guilty pleasure is the series Veronica Mars. I'm not going to explain it to you... just watch it and make your mind up. The other one I've been watching but haven't decided about is The Inside. It's created/produced/written by people who've worked on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel, but it seems a little too flat footed... makes too much up front of the main character's troubled past... and it features Peter Coyote who seems to coat everything he's in with a little slug trail.

So much for TV.

Today's highlight at the store was an exchange with a sun cracked and oiled up gentleman with a full-to-bursting carrying case of cassettes:

He: Do you buy cassettes?
Me: Not for about 4-5 years now.

He: I just need about $2 to get a case of beer.
Me: Have you tried the Trading Post (a nearby pawn shop)?

He: Yeah. The guy's gone. Would you buy the carrying case?
Me: I wouldn't have any use for it.

He: Some of these are good tapes. I have Willie Nelson.
We: We don't really do much with Country. And we don't sell tapes.

He: It's the one with "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain." That's a good song.
Me: It sure is. Maybe one of your friends would like to buy it.

He: Ah. I'm just a little short for a case. I don't ask people for cash, I mainly do bottling. How about I leave these two tapes here and come back later for $2?
Me: I really can't use your tapes.

He: Well. OK thanks anyway.
Me: No problem.

And so it goes. Gotta cough now. Keep well.

Time away

Just writing to say that I'll be writing more... but not just now.

My stomach thingy is not yet fully solved. The Prevacid they have me taking seems to limit the heartburn, but not the gas and the cramps still come and go.

Had a crappy cold/throat infection during the first half of the month when I started the medication... made it hard to tell whether I was just recovering from the cold or from the stomach thing too.

Being finished the night job it the main reason I've been unable to stay on top of posting... and now next week I'm off to Victoriaville to the music festival . So I'll have to catch up on my return... I'll tell you about taxes and other such things.

till then.

Unravelling the Intestine

In an effort to self-solve my stomach trouble I tried a little experiment today. At breakfast I didn't have coffee or orange juice... just water with my bagel, avocado and cheese... and a banana. More water at lunch with a veggie sub... and some dodgy shepherd's pie (microwavable) for dinner. Guess what? My stomach felt a bit better. No bloating, no gas. The dull cramping still lingered, but perhaps lingering is to be expected.

I don't know whether or not to hope it's just something like Acid Reflux. It's certainly better than stomach cancer, but it would mean cutting out approximately 3/4 of my regular diet. Maybe this is just my body's way of telling me that it's time for that anyway.

I'll continue the experiment and see.

Less Health, Less Welfare

Time has passed.

About... no, exactly 3 weeks since my last post. I was sick then... told you I'd tell you more about it... well not much to tell really.... For about a week and a bit I had what I dubbed a "migratory flu," one that started in my head & throat at waking, moved into my chest by afternoon, then gave me diarrhea by evening. Repeat until unnecessarily irate.

As with most cold/flus (flues?) I get in the winter (thankfully few and spaciously spaced apart) the symptoms tend to linger long after the actual affliction has fled. This time is similar, but rather than the usual cough and headache I've been left with a lingering stomach ailment.

In truth this stomach thingy has its roots from back before xmas, at least. After a couple of holiday-fortified nights of drinking I awoke to not only my standard inside-brain-earthquake of a hangover but also a sharpish pain in my guts. The first time I wrote it off to overdoingness, but the second time I started to worry a little bit more. But then it kinda went away.

Over the ensuing few months I noticed I was getting indigestion more frequently than usual (which is to say usually never), and also decreasingly hilarious bouts of gas after meals. My diet is very bad, you see... too much fast food, not enough water, vegetables, fibre... you know, modern. I would wake up early with a surprisingly empty feeling in my stomach, not unlike hunger, coupled with nausea balancing the other end of the equation. Eating alleviated the nausea but quickly produced bloating. This too came and went for the last couple of months.

Over the last two weeks, though, it has been more or less my waking state. I'm sick and tired of waking up sick and tired, to paraphrase the punk lyric.

I have a doctor's appointment next week, but in the interim have been feverishly self-diagnosing with the help of:

Medicinenet

It's an excellent site for the medically curious, not to mention the mildly hyponchondriac.

So, obviously I'm hoping it's something minor, transitory, easily treatable... I'll let you know.


In other not-so-happy news...

Well, let me say, really, on one hand it IS happy news... my Mandy got herself a job curating for the Andrew & Laura McCain Gallery. It's a good job and a good chance, and one she fully deserves. The downside is that it's in Florenceville, which is an hour and a half away.

It starts soon... next week. So I am really, selfishly, sad about it. It's not so far that we won't be able see each other, but I've grown adhesively attached to having her around every day. It's going to make time pass very slowly.

Well. Must go for now and tcb, or pcb, or pcp. So long as it doesn't upset my stomach.

later

Health and Mental Welfare

Can someone please pull my nose down and out of my brain pan, please? If it turns out to not be the thing lodged up there giving me a headache and making my throat hurt then we'll turn our hearts and hands to something else.

The end of February came and went in a stretch of work and play slapping together like desperate trout on a river bank... or something. Notably Marc Bragdon was well-wished, swished and whisked off to the wilds of Baker Lake, Nunavut. The party at

Christmasland

saw folks of all types (friends from F'ton, friends from Lincoln, friends from work, radio personalities) gather to rock and back slap their way into the wee hours.

The planned 3 band festival was more or less a non-issue. Opting not to get a PA made the evening easier to set up and prevented the greater possibility of authoritative backlash, but it also dulled the impact of the "rawk." Piper Perabo and Bachelor Padlock essentially became one entity (esp. given the absence of one f.c. Giles... often the wacky backbone of outlandish musical events) and the special guests (Rob and Jon) went on late to an enrapt and intimate crowd. Filling in the space between was a sparkling freestyle set by MC JB Free... hip, hop and topical.

The morning following the party brought a bus trip north to Campbellton. In essence it was 6 hours of enforced unconsciousness enshrouded by the sweetness of music-mediated isolation. Once at my folks the actual task at hand went well: helping my mom prepare for a colonoscopy (sp?) and gastroscopy. This involved fasting and medication-enhanced purgation... for my part I prepared meals for my dad and myself to alleviate her having to be around food during this period. The day of the exam there was a snow storm which change the transportation plans. I ended up providing dog-sitting services for their still-not-a-year-old Cocker Spaniel that howls like a timber wolf when left alone... in an apartment... with neighbours... who don't like to hear timber wolves nearby. As with most medical exams this one yielded not much immediate information... prefering to defer to the family physician to give the actual facts at a later date... and so back I went to Fredericton on the bus...

...and off the bus and to work... right then.

PART II

The intermediate week was busy. My boss worked my off-hours at the store and graciously did a major tidying of the workspace. I must admit, and those who know me must realize, I am a clutterer. My system involves keeping pertinent paperwork and work tools out in the open and close at hand... and everything else pools away in ever increasing concentric circles which are organically spaced depending on need vs. accesibility. At the very perimeter is the stuff which, frankly, has no use... at all... but never ever finds its way to the post consumer recycling center/wastepile it deserves. My only two excuses are 1) I don't have a car or drive and 2) I have to leave each day at 4:55 p.m. to make it to my second job of the day. On the other hand I could do this sort of thing on the weekend... and I WILL... at least I like to think I Will.

In his Mr. Cleaning routine Gordie streamlined a few things but also disrupted my dirt devil-style feng shui... It is not yet reestablished, but I'm-a workin' on it.

The lab is less than busy this week (March Break) but the store is crackling, for better or worse. It seems like there's been more than the usual share of disgruntled messes, unwashed masses, and just plain "other"s.

I'll comment more tomorrow. Plus I'm sick... thus the title above. I'll <><> tell you more about that too.

Help me to help you, Help!!!

I've got to get away from being a crowd pleaser.

The choices of how to have fun this weekend are, for once, plentiful... yet my choosery is compromised by trying to make it the most beneficial for all considered.

Going to Halifax would be fun... and it would be helpful to the store by bringing down stock for Saturday's records sale.

Staying in Fredericton would be fun... there would be musical shenanigans (drunken perhaps) in preparation for the "Piper Perabo/Bachelor Padlock" show/Marc Bragdon send off on February 26th (see below).

Going to Halifax would limit the practice time for the show.

Staying in Fredericton would mean no CD shopping (something I haven't done in a city other than Fredericton since last Easter in Ottawa).

Going to Halifax would be spending time with Mandy.

Staying in Fredericton would be spending time sleeping a little. (maybe)

I'll have my answer tomorrow.

BACHELOR PADLOCK RULES!!!
as does Piper Perabo...

Piper Perabo

Choosing between your children

I don't want you to worry.

I know I've been spending a lot more time with your sister this last little while, but it's because she's just getting on her feet, taking steps... getting stronger every day. But that's no reason for you to worry... or act up.

Yes, it's true. The Backstreet Records blog has been getting most of my less-than-ample free time lately. Even then, I've fallen behind on it as well.

Add to that writing music reviews for Exclaim, reading submissions for The Fiddlehead... all the good times rolled into one ten day long week, plus end of month data crunching at "work" work. Makes it hard to keep up with that reality show on at midnight Tuesdays on Global where designers and chefs are sent into the woods to make it better for the animals... or whatever it is they're actually doing.

The rest of the month is more or less spread out wide and far with equal divisions of fun and work.

Sue is coming this weekend for a reading, so we'll get a chance to catch up a bit.
There's a record show in Halifax on the 19th which may be reason enough to take a spin down... depends...
The most nebulous part is what to work on for Vetch...

They've retained me as a kind of "press agent," the upshot of which is that, for the immediate future I have to track down spaces and places to spread the word on the CD and upcoming performances... I'm slowed down by not having a working press kit to send... need to put one together... need materials... need quotes... neeeeeeed another vacation, hmmm?

Well I'll, er... get back to it, then.

more links more chains

The humble beginning rumbles of the Backstreet blog are underway. There's a link down there somewhere by the archives to get sent to it or you can click here if you are too lazy to look. So far all that's there is the Top 20 albums of 2004 in sales and critical opinion, but soon there'll be upcoming release info for January and February as well as more idiosyncratic info as time allows.

May post more later... but for now...

ta

too much thinking, little a-doing

Hey

Well since all of the holiday shopping and planning and sitting and watching TLC marathons where people JUST LIKE US redecorate their lives with the help of telegenic yet personable characters... Maybe now, NOW I can get back to the business of analyzing my innermost workings.

But not just yet.

I've decided I'm going to split this little chatterbox into 3 distinct parts (linked for your pleasure). One will be just like this... embracing the randomness of my everyday and deconstructing it for the purposes of amusement and insight. Another will concern the workings of BACKSTREET RECORDS... the business which is my show... and it will serve to amuse and provide insight as well, but perhaps also alert the musically faithful to things of interest in the offing. Lastly will be more of a listly sort of thingy... since I looooove lists... and links... almost as good.

But for now I'm only serving notice... note that I haven't slipped into an icy crack while scouring the downtown for a perfect knick to go with some inscrutable knack. Business will be re-opening soon.

Yr. slightly seasonably bloated buddy.

bye