Wire shorts out. Dozens of jaws go slack.

In an obvious bid to drum up dowtown camaraderie a wire outside the Towne Shoppe shorted out a little before 5pm today.



People stopped what they were doing, stopped going where they were going and gazed in wonderment at the three police cars, one fire truck and slightly blackened brick on the second story of the building on the corner of York and King.


The gentleman pictured above turned to me after I put away my camera and asked:

"What is it that has happened?"

"A wire shorted out"

"So is it a fire or an electrical fire?"

"A wire shorted out, I guess that makes it electrical"

"Do you think they will extinguish it?"

"I suppose they have that in mind."

"Is it a fire that..."

"Look I just got off work, go ask the people with their mouths open over there."


Still despite the over-inquisitive few it was an event that united, however briefly, the blue of collar and white of trash...

...with the white of collar and blue because of bad parking.

Ciao

eats

All hail mighty protein protector!

Sunny sun sun.

So now I'm on vacation, right?

Well, no. But I am one job lighter... my evenings are again my own. That's sort've a vacation, right?

Well, no. Waiting in the wings was an avalanche of tasks put on the backburner... including the Surge! event advertised in the poster above. But in my ardent desire to feel like I'm on vacation I've spent as much of the last ten days as possible either watching movies, playing video games or asleep. Or eating. I've eaten a lot of meat in the last ten days.

And I did my taxes.

And I visited M. a couple of times.

And I went to see Sleepy Driver and Andrew Titus read up a storm this past Saturday.

And I went into work on Sunday at the lab, even though, it turned out, I didn't have to.

And I came into work today at the Store, because suddenly I had to... and today turned quickly (probably because of the warmer temperature) into a clusterf*ck where three people in rapid succession called to tell me the same goddamn story:

"I just (found/inherited/collected) a box of vinyl and I was wondering if you'd buy them?"

After applying the appropriate list of provisos and questions... we don't take country, classical or easy listening... they have to be in good shape... etc.... I had dismissed all three. But did they go gently into the good night? Ha ha ha.

(1) These albums are really old... some of them are thick... really thick. Can you buy equipment to record onto vinyl at home? Some of these have handwritten labels.

Me: We don't have any collectors for 78s... I'd try either antique stores or auction houses.

He: You think these are antiques?

Me: Well they're old... that's a criteria.

He: And you don't know anyone else who'd buy them?

Me: I don't know anyone here in Fredericton... most of our vinyl buyers are way too young to know what any of your titles would be... I think it's the same for most music stores in the Maritimes?

He: And you wouldn't have anyone who'd want them here in town?

**there should be a "see above" button you could push on the telephone.

(2) I have this bunch of records someone left with me... I don't really know most of the titles... I'm keeping three of them myself.

Me: Well could you give me a rough idea of the kind of music... generally?

She: I don't really know what kind of music... these aren't artists I know.

Me: Give me a couple of the titles, for example.

She: I don't really know the titles either.

Me: But you could probably read them, couldn't you?

She: Well, yeah (fumbling noises) I don't know... (fumbling)... (silence).

Me: Do you have them there?

She: Yeah, OK... (fumbling) there's, uh, Mac Davis and uh, Al Stewart... and... who's Connie Kaldor?

Me: She's a Canadian singer... it doesn't sound, from those three titles, like there's anything we'd be able to use at the moment.

She: There's some 80s stuff, too.

Me: Ah, OK... like what?

She: Some Tears for Fears, uh, Cindy Lauper... Paul Butterfield Blues Band.

Me: Well... the Paul Butterfield isn't really 80s, but it is more along the lines of what we could use. If you wanted to drop them off, or bring in a list, I could go through and weed things out... but in any case I'd need to see what shape their in.

She: There's some classical collectons?

Me: We don't take classical... but, again, why don't you bring them in and we'll have a look.

She: There's some Eagles?

Me: I'd have to see the collection.

She: There's some...

Me: I have someone at the counter... I'm letting you go now.

(hanging up I faintly hear: There's some... hey, I...)



(3) See the above two and mix and match the conversation.


Then there were a few instore questions like:

He: Do you have any Cat Power?

Me: Yes, we have You Are Free and Dear Sir, her first one. Here I'll find them for you.

He: This one is more expensive than the other one. Why?

Me: Well... they are different albums? Different labels, different distributors... not everything is the same price.


I'm going to go home, put on shorts, drink a bottle of wine... blast some drone music and write some poetry.

And maybe I'll put a bunch of vinyl out in the sun and watch it melt... just for kicks.

Pre-Nikita, Nikita, Post-Nikita (Perabo)

Here are nine thousand words... in picture form:

I can't find my eggs... maybe I should've painted them?

Call me weird... but I kinda like little snowstorms late in the season, or after the official season change... feels like a bonus round.


Had another one of those strange little encounters on Saturday at the store. The last half hour is usually pretty quiet, so I try to make sure my paperwork is all in order so I don't have to start with it in disarray on Tuesday.

But around 4:50 pm a dude comes in just as I'm at the crux of the matter, so I look up and say, "Hey" and he says, "hey," and I look back down. No problem. After a couple of minutes of browsing he asks, "Do you have any recommendations for new releases that you think are great?" So I tell him how the two biggies are the new Modest Mouse and the new Arcade Fire... and that my pick between those two would be the Modest Mouse, that it gets better and better each time I listen. He nods and I nod and then I put my head back down into the paperwork. I wrap it up in another couple minutes or so and look back up to see how he's doing. So he picks up the Modest Mouse, looks at the back, looks at the front, looks at the back, looks at the front, puts it back. He picks up the Arcade Fire, looks at the back, looks at the front, looks at the back... etc. He does this half a dozen times all told. I'm figuring he's awaiting some divine sign to decide between the two, so I leave him alone and pack up my shoulder bag. He then says, "Thanks" and walks out.

So, yes, I should've probably talked to him a little more, and I should've probably played him a little from each... but still... why would you ask for options to choose from then ignore both?

He's probably one of those Fredericton drivers who doesn't use turn signals for fear of committing to a direction.

Another little spark of pleasure this past week came from not approving The Killers as new friends on MySpace. I don't need those kinds of friends, yo.

Take that Brandon Flowers.

Activity Overflow.

I took the above shot out of the bus window coming back from Campbellton weekend before last. It was the day after the "big storm" that hit all of Eastern North America. I was watching coverage of it on my folks' cable TV... fascinating invention by the way... and it made top story on all of the national news broadcasts. I honestly don't remember weather getting this kind of play back when I was 7 and we seemed to get meter deep snowfalls every other week. Maybe snow in the 70s wasn't as dangerous as post 9/11 snow.

Hey remember when we were terrified to go outside because of ACID RAIN?!!!

That was fun.

-----

Anyhow... in case some of you are wondering why The 2400 blog has been mostly silent for the last little while... busy week, yo. It all paid off, though. Getting organized and postered up for the SPRING FORWARD readings resulted in a great Friday where our modest attendance projections were met and eclipsed.

We started things off with three readers (Mark Jarman, Karen Solie, WhiteFeather) at Westminster Books at 6pm... and from that point we had in the neighbourhood of 20-25 people. Then at Read's (Matt Leslie, Jesse Ferguson, Biff Mitchell at 7pm) most people stuck with us and a few new faces showed up. Finally at the re-christened Taproom (now Wilser's Room, me, Katie Brown, John Heinstein, Matte Robinson and Andrew Titus, 8pm ish) the beer flowed and the poetry and the folk/jazz via a scaled down Vetch duo. Maybe it was the culmination of a long week's work and 4 large pints, but I was home, in bed, asleep... before midnight. Still.

The next morning I was strong and hangover-free... the sun was out... all was well... except when entering the graveyard off Carleton extension I was about 30 feet behind this older gentleman (perhaps 70ish) who was dressed in orange cords and a grey coat. He had what seemed to be a nice spring in his step... but then I noticed that every 5 seconds or so he'd square back his shoulders, bring his hands about a foot apart behind his back and shake them extremely vigorously up and down... looked like he was trying to break a pair of handcuffs. The only other explanation I could think of, given his springy tread, was that he was trying to break free and hurtle upwards over King's Place. But he didn't. I carefully slowed my pace so as not to catch up with him then veered off over to the Happy Baker to avoid standing next to him at the crosswalk. Later I saw a 6 foot gray bunny handing out Easter eggs. Fredericton is fucked up.

After work I was resigning myself to an evening of cleaning my bathroom and putting up new shower curtains and maybe laundry, but Andrew Titus, my literary cohort, invited me up to dinner (if he ever invites you for God's sake go... the man puts on a spread like none other) followed by the light entertainment of filming pre-teens kicking the snot out of each other. We broke no laws... at least not knowingly.

On Sunday M. came for a visit... early in the week we'd talked about going to The Constantines show that night, just short of actually committing to the plan. In the end we just enjoyed the nice day, going down to Isaac's Way for lunch then walking up to the Superstore and Jumbo to get snacks and movies for the evening. So instead of The Constantines it was Marie Antoinette, A Scanner Darkly, Mediterranean pastry snacks, blue corn nachos and hot salsa, french bread with pepper corn cream cheeze, guacamole, etc. I think we made the right decision.

This morning we went on an errand extravaganza... starting with coffee at Starbucks, some costume purchases, a visit to Home Depot... then out to Scott's Nursery to buy seeds and stare down the iguanas, coy and a large slow gray cat. On the way back a quick stop at a tiling store to get some ceramic cut then on to Chez Riz for lunch (my second curry meal in two days). After lunch the art store on Queen, coffee at Read's and then... eventually the weekend ended. And here I am at work. Sigh.

So... no 2400 updates today either... though there is a new Surgery show up to listen to.

I'll get back on track this week... promise.

Really.

3 Things that...

Here's 3 things that make me happy.

#1 Buffy the Vampire Slayer... Season 8!!!

I make no apologies for being a Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan. I was slow to get into the series, mostly because I never had cable and would only see random episodes from time to time, but never in sequence or even from the same season. Season 5 was the first year I saw the whole run (more or less) start to finish. I began to understand how carefully plotted the show was, with a strong arc that also referred back (in both major plot points and tiny detail) to earlier seasons. One example of this... a recurring character named Amy Madison who was a witch (revealed in season 1) is turned into a rat during an episode of season 3 and taken in for safekeeping by Willow, one of the main characters. In the background of the main action during a season 4 episode she is accidentally returned to human form for all of 2.5 seconds, only to revert to rat without anyone noticing the change. She eventually is permanently returned to human form for a three episode arc... but not until season 6. That's narrative patience! I only know all this because over time I bought DVD boxes of all seven seasons... the show having wrapped up in 2003. The run ended well, with everything nicely wrapped up, no reason to complain... except of course that there would be no new episodes to look forward to.

In 2001... the creator of the series, Joss Whedon (who also was behind Angel and Firefly on television) had done a limited comics series for Dark Horse called Fray that followed another incarnation of the Slayer in a futuristic setting. In 2004 he started writing a highly successful new X-Men title for Marvel comics. And now... he has begun a comics version of a Buffy the Vampire Slayer season 8... picking up a few a little more than a year after the end of season 7 of the television show. The first issue is out and it is pretty swell.

#2 Raines

My television watching is pretty minimal these days... still no cable... so I'll catch the occasional Law&Order : SVU to make myself feel icky or to ogle Mariska Hargitay; been hot and lukewarm with Criminal Minds; against my better judgement I've been keeping up with Gray's Anatomy (geek note: Buffy alum Marti Noxon was brought on as a consulting producer this year); occasionally I'll watch about half an episode of CSI: Miami to play this drinking game I've devised: Whenever David Caruso arrives at a crime scene or an interview and takes off his sunglasses with both hands... take a drink. Whenever he delivers a line of dialog while looking at nothing but the dirt on the ground... take a drink. Whenever he finishes a line of dialog and moves out of frame before the camera cuts to another p.o.v. ... chug your drink. As I said... haven't gotten through a whole episode yet.

Anyhow... last Thursday I randomly caught the first episode of Raines... a new cop drama on NBC starring Jeff Goldblum. The show was probably a ridiculously cheesy pitch along the lines of, "Imagine The Profiler crossed with The Sixth Sense...." And the premise is pretty much that: Goldblum plays an L.A. homicide detective with an exceptionally developed sense of forensic profiling... one that eventually results in him hallucinating the dead victims of the crimes he investigates. He sees, hears and converses with these apparitions on the way to solving the crimes. It sounds hokey but it works... the "ghosts" are never (at least in the pilot) supernatural, and they subtly change appearance and behaviour the more Raines understands about the case. The rest of the cast is great, including Madeleine Stowe, Nicole Sullivan, Matt Craven. The script avoids predictable clichés (written by creator Graham Yost who is best known for Boomtown and From the Earth to the Moon), and the pilot was directed by Frank Darabont (The Green Mile, The Shawshank Redemption). There's a twist at the end of the pilot that you might figure out... I didn't, but I try not to use my brain much when I watch television.

#3 Modest Mouse - We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank.

Check it out here: full album streaming.

-----

And here's one thing that makes me sad.

I started watching Hal Hartley films around the time Simple Men was released and was quickly hooked. I rented both The Unbelievable Truth and Trust from the much missed Video Plus that used to be on King Street downtown... and I was smitten by Adrienne Shelley who starred in both films. Her acting credits afterwards were scant and easily overlooked, but she'd also moved over to writing and directing... her last movie, Waitress, premiered at Sundance this January. Even though I hadn't really thought about those movies or her in quite some time, the news (that I randomly... once more... came across during an unrelated search) really hit me in a soft spot. It is sad, shocking and utterly utterly crappy.

Three vignettes

Three ways people can waste your time:

1) The short way:

Guy comes in, hands in pockets and starts a counterclockwise loop of the store.

Me: Are you looking for anything special?

Guy: No. I like looking at the covers, mostly.

Me: Some of the music inside them is pretty good too.

Guy: Oh... I think I'm a little old for new music. Ah, no. I shouldn't say that. I've been enjoying Jack White lately. And I like electronica in the background.

Guy finishes his counterclockwise loop, never having taken his hands out of his pockets, and walks out.

-----

2) The longer way:

Guy comes in and says, "I'm looking for something alternative."

Me: Ok, well... what are you into now?

Guy: Y'know... a lot of stuff. All different kinds. But I seem to be listening to a lot of 80s music lately.

Me: Ah. Well... if you like more dramatic stuff I guess something like The Arcade Fire would be somewhere to start. (note: this was a little while ago, so the new album wasn't out yet). I'll play a little of it for you.

Guy: (listening) I haven't heard of this band... they're pretty good.

Me: Yeah, a lot of people like them. This album made many top ten lists last year.

Guy: Yeah... I like the bass line, I'm a bass player myself... but I don't think it's what I'm after.
I kinda wanted something closer to what I've been listening to.

Me: What have you been listening to most lately?

Guy: I dunno, Guns and Roses, probably.

Me: Ah. Well, I'm not sure I can think of something new right off that would fit that bill.

Guy: Well, I''ll just browse and see what catches my eye. How about this Pearl Jam? They're alternative, aren't they?

Me: Well... to Guns and Roses, I guess they would be at that.

Guy: Cool.
------

3) The even longer way:

Guy walks in, starts browsing the vinyl and says, "Wow some of this stuff is great. I haven't bought any new music in quite a while."

Me: Were you looking for anything in particular?

Guy: Not really, I guess. I'm into stuff that has a bit of country mixed with rock... or rockabilly. (Pulls out a Jason and the Scorchers album) Like this... this is great.

Me: OK..., well... I've got a couple of things on vinyl by The Long Ryders... do you know them?

Guy: No. I've never heard of them. They're good?

Me: Yeah. They're one of the early American groups that played the style that Wilco or Jayhawks eventually took up.

Guy: Sounds good, but I don't have a working turntable at the moment.

Me: Ah. So... I guess you'd be looking for CDs then?

Guy: Yeah, do you have any suggestions there?

Me: OK, well there's this disc by Jay Farrar who was in Son Volt.

Guy: I don't know Son Volt.

Me: Son Volt was the other half of Uncle Tupelo when Jeff Tweedy broke off to for Wilco.

Guy: I know Wilco. This is good?

Me: It's a little bit stranger instrumentally, but the songs are good. I'll play you a little.

Guy: (Listening) Yeah it's interesting, but not quite what I was after today.

Me: OK, well do you know Cracker?

Guy: Can't say that I do.

Me: Dave Lowery used to be in a band called Camper Van Beethoven... you know them?

Guy: No.

Me: Well, Cracker is his more straight ahead twangy Rock band... I'll play you a little.

Guy: (Listening to a few tracks) Yeah. This is what I like listening to.

Me: (Taking out the CD and getting ready for a sale). OK then.

Guy: Yeah, I have a buddy who works down at Tony's... I'll ask him about these guys and see what he says.

Me: ....

Guy: OK, thanks. See you later.

I don't see him later. I guess that despite liking what he heard, outside confirmation was necessary. We all need a little help.

Oh the... the... the... ZZZZzzzz

When I started all this... this... Blogging, it was a simple matter: One blog for me, one for the store... aaaaannnnd one for the radio show. Yep. >slap, slap< (that's the sound my hands make when I'm doing the "that's that" gesture). But no. Now it's that plus a blog for the stupid "listen to my record collection" project... aaaaaannnnnd a MySpace site for the store... aaaannnnd eventually one for music/everything else.

That plus events to plan for. For example, did you know that the Maritime Writer's Workshop will be having the first of many launchy type events on Friday March 23rd? Well I did! Details will follow in the very soon future.

Aaaannd... did you know that there is a gala Farm Nikita event planned for Saturday April 7th (Easter weekend)? Well I did! Details will follow in the midrange... just unfocus your eyes.

Aaaannnnd... did you know that the third Surge! event is coming up in May? Well... it is! I just don't exactly know what it will consist of... but when I do, boy o boy will you too!!

But more presently and pressingly I would suggest to you all that going to the Most Serene Republic show this Friday (March 2nd) at the Capital would be a nice way to kick off the March break (y'know... if you actually get one). If you see me dropping my beer there, you know that all else is on some (hopefully turned off) back burner.

But for now... I'm going back to listen to more of my record collection... no entry over there tonight, but big catch up post tomorrow or Thursday.

Oh, can I do anything for you?

In case you think it just poofed...

I was thinking about the big ol' CD collection listening marathon... how it would more or less take over the content of this blog due to it's sheer size. So I did the only rational thing someone could do...

I started another blog just for the project.

It's called The 2400.

I'll include a link to it in the sidebar so you can jump over there at will... or you can bookmark it, or whatever.

I've already gotten a little behind both in listening and writing... so the current post features the albums gone through last Friday... tomorrow will feature Saturday... and since I was, lets say... corrupted by hangovers and DVD box sets yesterday and today, regular listening and writing will resume tomorrow... capeeesh?

I'm also adding an extra feature called the "STAR ALBUM>" So denoted by this symbol:
These star albums shine brighter and have become touchstones in my collection over the years. I will attempt to pick one hundred star albums out of The 2400. Why not make it harder, right?

OK, pop over and have a gander at star album #1. Yeah Yeah Yeah.

Julie Doiron and Moonsocket Underground Café

Clicking makes 'em bigger:

What happens while I'm asleep?

Bless you Lynda Carter

I was just minding my own business... whatever that is... and next thing I knew a Campus security guard came and got me then ushered me into a room full of other Campus security and Fredericton Police officers. Turns out they couldn't get their laptop PowerPoint presentation to project. Mostly because they had no projector. I find it tough to be a smartass when people are carrying weapons. Head Security dude retrieved a projector from downstairs and set it up but still no dice, so back into the heavily uniformed room I went. After some futzing with the laptop and projector it all popped to life.

As I left I did get the whole room to laugh... so I guess I don't have to worry about getting a billy club to the head walking home from work.

My other evening malaise came from having to buy dinner in the cafeteria downstairs. The cheapest thing I could buy was a wrapped and refrigerated Roast Beef sub (6 inch), a can of V8 and a bag of Munchos... total $7.53. My longstanding standard has been expensive equals either very tasty or very plentiful, and cheap is ok if your expectations are low and again quantity is abundant... i.e. Jubilee Super Buffet all you can eat for about $12 if you don't mind 100 items that all vaguely taste of propane. You develop a forgiving palate.

One recent item I've become addicted to (much in the manner of the Lays Salt and Pepper Chips of last year) is the 691 mL can of Arizona Honey Ginseng Iced Green Tea. Tasty, voluminous and 99 cents!!! I can be cheap and at least marginally healthy. Bizarre!!! I can't find a picture of the can right now... but take my word for it. Unless you have a spare lasso of truth hanging around.

Like I wasn't saying

Sometimes pictures get trapped in your camera.
You forget then find them. Kinda like Easter eggs, except without that sulfur smell when they've spent two and a half years behind the lay-z-boy that finally gets moved to vacuum or tipped forward to find change for laundry, or all the pens it swallowed.

I had a bag of T-shirts left from the first Surge! event in September, and since I didn't have anything like party hats or noise makers I figure what could be more group spirit instilling than being dressed alike for New Year's? It worked for the Nazis.

So what's new? What's happened?

Well X-mas break was about 5 days long this year... a high water mark holidaywise.
The home part of it was the usual low-grade mesmerism I've come to expect: food, sleep, flashing lights. The kind of palliative care terminal rave goers would probably thrive upon.
The Fredericton part of it was likewise pleasant: Seeing Marc L. and spending a bit more time with M. (both pictured above). Work weeks that were only 24-30 hours long vs. my current 56. I have to say though, after years of silently mocking folks who complained how prolonged stretches of junk food and drink put them on their heels after the holidays... now the mock is on me. My system seems to yearly throw out new curves for me to consider. Is that a muscle pull or a stroke? That sort of thing.

There seemed to be a more-than-average portion of illness, death and relation rupture over the holidays. Perhaps another age-derived side effect.

What else? There was cat care, best of list countdowns, birthdays, sleep in short bursts at odd hours, plenty of chaos-fueled ducks that needed whacking back into rows. There always seems to be a pivot-point (usually around day 14-16 of January) where the possibility of a year that flows smoothly along the rails gets ker-knocked askance... either through mishap or plain ol' laziness. This year it's a little of both.

One speed bump was trying to get to a slightly less hectic work schedule, temporarily inverted by the departure of Mike the Saturday Guy (one of his many aliases) who finished school at Xmas and, due to some personal turmoil, picked up stakes and headed North (near North, but still).

The other dip in the road is getting a handle on how my routine impacts mealtime... i.e. my eating while walking or during 3 minute breaks at work. Less McD more macrobiotic? I'm still on the see saw with that one... I'll get back to you.

The last little hill to conquer is consolidating/moving forward with many disparate projects: writing, the Surgery blog and it's expanded possibilities, and the Surge! festival's posibilities for May.

The Surgery Radio one is the most tangible and exciting one at the moment. I installed a site meter and Cluster Map a little while ago, so now I can track not only how many visitors I get, but where they're visiting from. For example:





So what challenges am I gearing up for next? Well Kyle of The Fussy Part has enlisted J. Arnold (Proffessor Undressor) and me to open for them at The Capitol on February 3rd. We are cobbling together a DJ set that will hopefully both entertain and enlighten the masses. At least those who decide to come out before midnight and come inside rather that shiver and smoke on the deck. So those five people.

Finally I will impart upon you my favourite retail moment of the last few weeks. This time I had to go to another store to experience it:

Getting set up for the Surge! show on January 12th it became apparent that my stage rigging would benefit from a nice extension chord. We had about an hour and a half before showtime so John B. and I went up to Wendy's to grab some nice drive through dining to eat in the Canadian Tire parking lot. Following our dining we entered C'Tire which was fairly devoid of traffic for a Friday night. I found a suitable 10 m extension that was on sale for $14.99 and brought it to the cash. It has been a regular (pleasant) occurance at C'Tire that an even further reduced price comes up on the register screen when it's rung in... not this time.

Girl at Cash: That'll be $29.99.

Me: errr... the price in the aisle said $14.99 on sale.

GaC: Really?

Me: Really.

GaC: Well it comes up this price here. I'll call someone for a price check. [picks up phone on speaker]: Hardware call 103, hardware 103.

(five minutes elapse... a few more people are rung through... John is reading the back of battery packages).

GaC: I don't know who's back there. [tries again]: Hardware call 103, hardware 103.

(five more minutes... people are buy marked down garbage bags, John is sampling engine coolant flavours).

GaC: [to the other cashier two aisles over]: Who's back there?

GaC2: Jason, I think.

GaC: Is he on dinner?

GaC2: Not anymore. [Picks up her phone/speaker]: Jason in hardware call 105, Jason 105.

(her phone rings almost immediately and she transfers the call over to 103... I guess Jason is a little more scared of GaC2)

GaC: I have a guy here with an extension he says is on sale for $14.99, but it comes up as $29.99. OK? OK. He'll be right up.

GaC2: I had the same thing earlier tonight.

GaC: I know, but I can't just ring it in without Jason's OK.

(five more minutes elapse, then Jason, a slightly haggard post-holiday 1000 yard stare teenager shambles out of the back holding loops of extensions... looking a little like he's auditioning to replace the Crocodile Hunter dude.)

Jason: Ah... this one is $14.99 (holding up a nearly identical chord), but it's a one outlet. That one's a three outlet. They were mixed up on the shelf. (Shambles back).

GaC: Which one do you want?

Me: The cheap one.

So the whole thing took about 15-20 minutes. In the end the Girl rings it through and then looks into the pile of plastic bags as I exit without a "sorry for the wait" or "have a good night" or "never fucking come in here again." The holidays affect us all differently I guess.

Ahead to the future

So this is the new advanced blogger.

It wiped out my fish and chips header so I replaced it with dancing Russian GI Joes... at least I think that's what those are.

Some of you might be saying: What is he hiding by not having written any posts this new year? Or virtually none. Truth is... nothing to hide.

The Xmas season skidded on through 'til around the 14th of January. The end of the season was marked by Howard's countdown party at which we learned it was Band of Horses that most tickled his fancy.

Since then the weather has shut down most human interactions I normally have.

For instance on Monday through Friday of last week the store made one third of the amount we sold for on Saturday... and this is not to say that Saturday was an exceptionally busy day... just good n busy.

I'll have some perhaps more pertinent insights tomorrow... but for now revel in the wonder that is the NEW BLOGGER.

SUUUUUUUUUUURGE

So we go from the festival of lit turkeys and diving headlong into the festival of surging minor chords:



I'm making my fingers bony in preparation so I don't have a lot of time to bring you all up to speed with everything else... but after Friday I will, and up to speed you will be.

Be wary, be informed. Tall men with bad haircuts and underqualified numbskulls abound... in hallways near you!! (Well near me.)

Arg. Coconut.

Who knew there were that many Christmas albums by country artists? Every day someone calls and asks me for another different one. If anyone out there has Oak Ridge Boys Christmas Cookies get on eBay with it right now... somebody's a-lookin for it!!!

A couple of other favourite Xmessy interactions were the guy who came in looking for music "for the wife" who apparently is into "hip-hop be-bop." When I confessed to never having heard of this type of music he clarified with the more concrete terminology of "dance shit." He left with a Ray Charles and a Basement Jaxx CD.

Another grave lady called up asking if we had anything in stock by The War Brides. I said we had nothing in stock but we might be able to get something in for her. I then asked if they were a local band (figuring she might be shopping for some glam metal band from Penniac to give to her grandson, or something). She took a deep breath and informed me... "They are NOT a local band. I'm referring to The War Brides... [dramatic pause]... OF CANADA. Ah.

Since I rarely go to the malls I seldom have to deal with the weird bulldog-like behaviour the holiday brings out in people. Today though, I took a fifteen minute break to get lunch and grab a new notebook from Shopper's Drug Mart in Kings Place to keep track of special orders. There was only one cashier line open and two people ahead of me. I hadn't gotten food yet, but this looked like a short wait. Just as I was thinking this the lady just ahead of me reached into her huge stringy shopping sack and yanked out a wrinkled and knotted Shopper's bag from an earlier visit. The thing was you see... she'd been in on Saturday and bought some Pot of Gold chocolates that were on special. BUT... when she got home she realized she had bought the brown box... and, you know, those are nuts. She didn't like nuts. So... she'd come in a grabbed a white box... and, you know, those are just milk chocolate (or something). She really wanted a black box... but they were, you know, all out. So... the cashier (who was male and sported a Shopper's name tag that advertised his name was Jonni [his spelling, not mine]) struggled, and struggled, and struggle to untie the top of this bag (why the fuck do people tie the tops of bags that only contain large rectangular objects that will never in a million year slip out?) while my brain screamed at him SCISSORS. SCISSORS. SCISSORS!!!. Finally Jonni got the bag open and pulled out the receipt and told the lady, "the other box was $3.99... this box is $4.99." To this she countered, "I called and the girl said I could just swap them." While all this was going on the line behind me had begun to stretch out to near the back of the store... so a "supervisory cashier" came along to open another till. The Supervisor told Jonni that he'd have to fill out a refund slip then ring the new box in at the sale price and then bob's your uncle. Then he wandered away. Jonni filled in the refund slip... something that involved a handwritten document... then he moved on to the ringing in the sale price. BUT... the supervisor had taken the returned box away when he left, which Jonni apparently needed to re-swipe the UPC (or some shit). So he runs to the back of the store, gets the brown box, swipes it, then looks at the white box for what seems like a very long time. He swipes it, and it comes up at $4.99... because... obviously... it isn't on sale... the sale was on Saturday. It should be mentioned that all this time the lady, mid-60s, weird backwoods accent, is offering all sorts of non-helpful suggestions that are only further confusing poor Jonni. Finally, with the help of two other cashiers, a ring of keys and a new spool of register paper... they arrive at the novel solution for getting the $4.99 box of chocolates to be $3.99... they ring it in manually!!!! Somewhere outside a tenament apartment a small crippled child named Tim was weeping tears of joy!!!

So next time someone tells you life is like a box of chocolates... get out of line.

Holla Holla Holla

Here's something you can print out, photocopy and staple/tape to any surface you desire:




Hopefully first in a series.



Things I have learned, but will soon forget:

1) Don't pick Sunday for your night to drink.
2) If you do pick Sunday for your night to drink, don't drink strong beer, lager, stout, rum and eggnog & creme de menthe in one sitting.
3) If you do #2, don't make it on a day you went to a buffet for breakfast.
4) Buffet and Breakfast... not a happy pairing.

Things I've seen/heard:

Cover of Cosmopolitan at Shoppers with Kate Winslet on the cover... they quote her philosophy: "You have to make the most out of every day." What would we have done without that bit of wisdom?

In the same vein was a radio "report" on the nature of crosswalk signal buttons... do they work? Should radio do "reports" on shit people talk about when they're too stoned to cross a street?

A blind guy with a walking stick trying to get through the King's Place food court. He started whacking people, then the anchored seating, eventually getting turned around and heading in the completely opposite direction he was initially heading. It never occurs that someone could really suck at being blind.

Three people, two guys and a girl, all wearing high style camo tops at the Subway on King. (The girl had red jogging pants on... someone is going to spot them).

The other labs in D'Avray are closed tonight. I have a bunch of beefy guys working on some Education or Phys Ed. group project and Shane singing along to country videos with headphones on.

How many days 'til Xmas?

Holla.

Ahhooooooooum.

Thank goodness for a weekend away.

November typically features a dipping down of the energy from September until the resurgence that comes before Xmas. The parents with lists haven't started in earnest, so the offbeat interactions are limited to arbitrarily strange:

The woman looking for any scratched 7"s we'd like to give her... but passing on the 99 cent ones... free only, please.

The man who wants buttons for his daughter... but not music buttons, because his daughter isn't into music buttons... which leads one to wonder, ah, what time of buttons might a music store carry?

And my favourite:

Quick background note: At times folks bring in boxes of records that are less than absolutely necessary for our collection... when we make noises like we're going to pass on them they usually go from bartering for a small amount for each or a small amount for the lot or, ultimately, offering them for free to do whatever we'd like.

So, in this case... it's August, guy brings a box of records. The guy has other business in town and says he'll drop by later after I've had a chance to look them over. The records are mostly crap, damaged no-gos or more of the same titles we have 3-6 copies of already. However, as is usually the case, there are a handful that we can actually, probably, sell. Day ends. Guy doesn't come back in.

Two days later guy calls and asks about the records. I tell him I can offer $20 for the few we can use and he can have the rest back. He says he doesn't want the rest back, but will stop in on Saturday for the cash and to see which ones we took.

Saturday comes along. Guy doesn't.

Week goes by. And half of another... and finally I figure the statute of limitations have gone by. I've not put anything out yet because it isn't totally out of the question for dudes to change their mind after, say, talking to an idiot buddy who says something like, "Shit man, I would've given you $10 bucks for that Best of Steve Miller Band!" Then when dude comes back to find out I've sold it for 25 cents, he gets a little huffy. But. Two weeks after they've dropped them off and still no contact... shit is mine.

Late November comes along. Dude wanders in and says, "Hi, my name is ***** and I dropped off a box of records in August. You said I could have $20 for the ones you could use."

I have to point out here that this is not a bottle picking, King's place hanging out kinda guy. This is a wife and kids and weekends at the cottage kinda guy.

I say, "well, all my paperwork from FOUR MONTHS AGO is packed and sent down to Saint John, but if you have your copy of the receipt for the cash...."

Dude says, "I didn't get a receipt."

I say, "How's that?"

Dude says, "I didn't come back in for one."

I say, "Ah."

So. Beyond everything else, the question I'd like to ask is: Why today? Why after four months would it suddenly occur to him that he's owed $20? He was always cheerful and never demanding, even when he came back in... but that makes it even more puzzling. In the usual case, after four months and no contact, one would expect just a nice clean write off.

I wonder if anyone out there owes me $20. Maybe I'll start a store to store inquiry.

Post-Remberance

Ah, underwear.

How I missed your firm support.

Let's Not Twist Again...

I have a folder of pictures from the last Festival International de Musique Actuelle de Victoriaville from this past May. It's a New Music festival that I go to with Marc LeBlanc every year... and this time I managed to get ahold of the standard press package that goes out to all the journals and magazines that review the event (which I do actually do for Exclaim!, but they usually only run 2, 1 or none of the photos to save space). My idea was that I'd do a full show by show review of the festival over on the Surgery blog, but now it's November and it seems a little past prime time to proceed.

The shot above is of Norwegian duo Fe-Mail who make a fiercely loud and varied racket with their voices, french horn and a table-load of homemade/modified electronic apparatuses. Tear your head off they will, and look damn good doing it, too.

The Third annual UNB Poetry Weekend is over. It was a fun time seeing old friends visiting to read, like Matt Tierney and Adam Dickinson, Michael Debeyer and some recent and new acquaintances to boot (not that I booted them). The semi-official kickoff was a Friday night launch of QWERTY's tenth anniversary anthology at Alden Nowlan house. The anthology has an introduction of sorts by me, some captions for images and a poem. Since I'm a local, surviving old-timer I was invited to read. Although the other readers were current MAs reading from works in the anthology I decided to present a non-reading/reading. Having been to more than a few readings in my time I've developed a mild allergy to the standard process... often finding that the introductions and descriptions of the works about to be read more compelling than the works themselves. To that end I prepared an introduction for the reading of a chapter of a book I haven't written, nor have any plan of writing. The "book" was titled The Coefficiency of Friction and it involved, centrally, irritations. I'll leave the rest to your imaginations.

This morning it had snowed, so the walk to work was a little gunky... but still I was in pretty high spirits; mentally energized by the better segments of work I'd heard over the previous two days. At the store there were a few milk crates of vinyl and CDs to reshelve after a record show in Moncton. I grabbed an armload of records out of the very first crate and a few slipped out of my arms so I pivoted and bend to grab them and my lower back wrenched or pinched or buckled or some shit. Anyhow now I have to walk around like I have a load in my pants, wince like a beaten puppy each step I climb and in the interim sit in this chair while my spine locks up into a new interesting shape.

Of course tonight is the night where printers get jammed, polycoms break down and need replacement parts, posters are picked up and multimedia stations need setting up... everyone is very sympathetic and ask if I'm o.k., which is nice, but it'd be nicer if they just went and built snowmen and left me alone... oh well.

Also, something else I've been wondering about...

What you suspected afterhours might look like

Watch a nearly one minute movie here.

Music courtesy of Bill Frisell and Dana Hope's iTunes

Never leave your rubber on the road

Like, why would I, like, care about, like, that?

One of the strange new modern quirks in communication comes courtesy of the cell phone. Something that always gives me a chuckle is the sight of two folks walking side by side down the street and one of them is having a conversation on their cell phone. It raises the question: how boring is that person they're with? Are they friends? If so why aren't they talking to each other?

I was asked, last year, by a student doing a project on the impact of new communication tools upon the process of education. The upshot of his questions to me was, "what was it like before you had cell phones and IM?" e.g. "How did you survive not being in constant touch with your moron friends?"

After a brief chin stroke I had to confess I never really felt out of touch. After all, I did have a telephone. I knew my friends' telephone numbers. Frequently I would actually go to where they lived and saw them in person... often carrying on full, open air conversations using verbs, nouns and modifiers. Moreover, we were often in the same places at the same time, drinking similar beverages. Is that out of touch? Then thank goodness for being out of touch.

I read an interview in UNCUT magazine with Nicky Wire of the Manic Street Preachers yesterday. One of his points about the vacuity of current youth culture brings up the point that kids have no skill at being bored any more. He rhapsodizes about "sitting on a wall for six hours" doing nothing except being bored. It makes sense. After a while the boredom festers and you're driven to action... to accomplish... to do something structured and big and sometimes fucking lunatic. These days low grade stimulus (cell phones, IM, iPod, PS2, XBox, YouTube, etc.) provides a constant buzz of low grade radiation that elevates its users a step up from boredom: catatonia. Admittedly this catatonia looks very social, everyone talking to everyone all the time about whatever stimulus they were radiated with that day. William Burroughs said "language is a virus." Maybe then communication can cause a new kind of cancer.

As I write this two young women are sitting about 10-15 feet behind me. One is carrying on a IM conversation with someone somewhere else while the other one is carrying on a one-sided conversation; directed at the first, but really to no one in particular; as she swivels in her chair, smells the inside of her shoes and monologues about her exploits on various wrestling team excursions. A quick glance over my shoulder and my imagination of what that must look like will make eating and sleeping difficult for some time to come.

I can only imagine what the IM conversation must be about, but if it's anything like the real world one...

"When I, like, got here, he was, like, messaging me to come over and, like, see him and stuff. But when I, like, got there, he was gone."

The Posey Question

First a gag:From Dork #11 by Evan Dorkin.

Then on to the post:

When it turned out that I wouldn't be going up to visit my folks until Sunday (instead of Saturday) last weekend I decided to use my now-clearer Friday evening to visit the uptown Mall district of Fredericton. My main objective was to purchase a new stock of receipt books for the store... but while I was up there I decided to peruse the many other goods and services offered. I bought a bottle of cheap Italian wine, for instance.

The other object/appliance I thought of purchasing was an mp3 player. There have been periods where I was so obsessed with having a portable music player (walkman, discman, whatever) that I can recall once not leaving the house because I'd neglected to recharge batteries. No music... no walking. Recently it's been less and less important to me... not to mention some concerns about what hearing loss I might already have inflicted upon myself. The one instance where it still seems vital is during prolonged travel by bus. Not having something that shields you from direct contact with the fellow transit patrons is as dangerous as practing unprotected sex in Central Africa.

I went to Future Shop and looked at the iPods and the iPod knock offs. The winsome little Shuffles were on sale for $75... but then I thought: if I were to get one of these buggers for my Sunday departure I'd be faced with the hassle of bringing CDs up to the lab, ripping them, loading the player, charging it, etc. Instead I perused the portable CD player section. Pickings were slim, with models ranging from $19.99 bottom feeders to, remarkably, high end ones that ran for around $150. The brilliant flash I had a while ago revolved around the fact that the $75 512 MB Shuffle was a diaphonous and sexy little electronic doodad... but... BUT... doesn't a blank CD-R hold 700 MB of info? Therefore if you were of a mind to fill one of those with mp3s it would contain more music than your Shuffle would hold. AND couldn't you prepare a few dozen of these based on your unstable mood shifts, therby never being locked into whatever you planned on one measly little 512 MB plastic bookmark??

So I looked a little harder at the CD players that played mp3 discs. The one that caught my eye was the Panasonic SL-SX480:
It had the added bonus of looking like a digital clam, and the headphones were white so I could hide it in my jacket and the casual passerby might mistake it for an iPod... so I could maintain my futuristic cred, yo. The Future Shop price was $49.99. I looked at it long and hard. I looked at it harder. I picked up its little clamshell casing and lifted it and lowered it along a vertical axis several times. Then I put it back.

Then I went over to Zellers and bought the same one for $39.99. Yay!!! I like shopping at Zellers. Somehow it feels like I'm buying something from a slightly retarded street vendor... like I'm doing something good for my community.

I decided also to stop at Rogers to flip through their discount DVDs. Occasionally you can turn up something good... and in fact I did. I had been just talking to James Kerr during our trip to Montreal how I never seem to see After Hours for sale anywhere (I believe this derived from the original topic of Rosanna Arquette). But here now in the 3/$24 pile was a honest to goodness copy of the underrated Martin Scorcese comedy (that's right... Martin Scorcese comedy!!!) I also bought a copy of Wolf Creek, which I hadn't seen but did enjoy, though Roger Ebert says this of the Australian film:

I had a hard time watching "Wolf Creek." It is a film with one clear purpose: To establish the commercial credentials of its director by showing his skill at depicting the brutal tracking, torture and mutilation of screaming young women. When the killer severs the spine of one of his victims and calls her "a head on a stick," I wanted to walk out of the theater and keep on walking.

Roger Ebert can be a bit of a pussy sometimes.

The last piece of the tryptich-de-DVD was Blade:Trinity. Now, yes... I should know better. I saw the movie in the theatre. I know it's crap. Really I do. But I like the other two movies so much... and... and... what good is a trilogy if you don't hve the third part. I mean, some of you out there bought Godfather III, right? Right?


One of the things about the movie that contributed to it's badness, but simultaneously somehow made it more fun was the trio of vampire villains who worked the evil machinations against Blade... y'know by resurrecting Dracula... I mean, what would you do to defeat him? The trio was played by... ahem... from left to right... Triple H, Parker Posey and Callum Keith Rennie. Having these three together in one movie, let alone one onscreen frame, is akin to Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom featuring a segment on Koalas stalking Penguins in Nebraska. A WWE wrestler, the guy who played Billy Talent in Hard Core Logo and... well... Parker Posey. WTF?

By far the most fun is watching Parker, who seems to be acting in a different movie altogether... something closer to an all-female Three Stooges retrospective.

Made me start thinking about her work in general... I mean how's this for a schizophrenic list of credits... the ones I've bolded are movies I've seen and think are great... the ones in italics... well, you decide. The last one (or first one, actually) on the list is a new Hal Hartley film... a sequel to Henry Fool... I can't wait to see it.

Fay Grim (2006)
For Your Consideration (2006)
Superman Returns (2006)
The OH in Ohio (2006)
Adam & Steve (2005)
Blade Trinity (2004)
Laws of Attraction (2004)
The Event (2003)
A Mighty Wind (2003)
Personal Velocity (2002)
The Sweetest Thing (2002)
The Anniversary Party (2001)
Josie and the Pussycats (2001)
Best in Show (2000)
Scream 3 (2000)
Dinner at Fred's (1999)
The Venice Project (1999)
The Misadventures of Margaret (1998)
What Rats Won't Do (1998)
You've Got Mail (1998)
Clockwatchers (1997)
Drunks (1997)
Henry Fool (1997)
The House of Yes (1997)
SubUrbia (1997)
Basquiat (1996)
The Daytrippers (1996)
Waiting for Guffman (1996)
The Doom Generation (1995)
Flirt (1995)
Frisk (1995)
Kicking & Screaming (1995)
Party Girl (1995)
Amateur (1994)
Dead Connection (1994)
Mixed Nuts (1994)
Sleep with Me (1994)
Coneheads (1993)
Dazed and Confused (1993)
Joey Breaker (1993)

So... overall... Parker Posey? Should we keep her? Is dating Ryan Adams the last straw? Is being in that commercial with Jimmy Fallon?

I say we keep her.

Dave's girlfriend knows what Yo La Tengo means.

So I saw YO LA TENGO, right?

Here are the point form details (edited down from an e-mail sent to someone who will also read this and wonder why I wasted her time making her read both... sorry, m.)

Friday September 30

5:30 pm: Road gets hit. Travellers: Driver: James Kerr. Shotgun: James MacGregor. (we are proud to feature a Jamesian front line) Center-seaters: Mike Nason and Muhammad AD Rock. Back row (bad kids): Marc Bragdon, Eric Hill. Bad kids have a half-pint of Crown Royal.

8:00 pm: We stop at gas station in Grand Falls to food up. My footlong oversauced Meatball sub turns into a two pound bag of marinara. Marc B. compares it to a full diaper. I shove it under the seat.

11:00 pm: Another gas station after Quebec City. I buy two Heineken tall boys to celebrate... whatever. Turns out my bladder doesn't need the work. The first half hour in Montreal is a tense one.

1:30 am (ish... or 12:30 am Quebec time...) We drop off Marc B. and start the chain of MapQuest fueled destination searches. We immediately get turned around, heading the wrong way on Decarie and I have to wind over to a parked Police Car and chat up an attractive Police Lady to get re-oriented. She didn't seemed taken with my obvious charms, perhaps it was my beer breath or the bullet proof jacket around her heart. The directions start to take effect, after Mo deciphers that the distances between turns are on the wrong lines. Thee drop offs continue. Finally the Jameses and I end up at James' M's buddy Dave's place. We scarf some Pabst Blue Ribbon and lay our heads down for a few hours.

Saturday September 31st

9:30 am: Is that the phone? I don't live here, so it's not for me. There's that phone again... still don't live here. Again. (Dave and James M. are staying across the street at Dave's girlfriend's apartment). Is that the doorbell? I don't live here. It's probably a Jehovah's Witness anyway. Is that Mike Nason talking on his cell phone below the window on the street? I better put some pants on and see. Yes it's Mike... he's talking to Cristal, Dave's girlfriend, on his cellphone. I wave. Cristal waves. He goes to Cristal. Who can blame him.

11:00 am: Breakfast at John's. From the Grill means two eggs, toast, homefries and every type of breakfast meat you could imagine, incl. Cretons!! So greasy. So good.

2:00 pm: Science of Sleep at Forum AMC. Quirky fun... maybe not as good as Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind... I'll think on it. Charlotte Gainsbourg has that unkempt Parisian hotness nailed, plus her mom's (Jane Birkin) British accent... double whammy.

7:00 pm: Dinner at Abiata... Ethiopian restaurant. There are 13 of us. Jameses, Dave, Cristal, Jess (her roommate), Mike w/ Steve and Scott, Mo with Sean (i think, right?), and James M's sister Margo who happens to be in MTL. coincidentally, and here boyfriend. The food is served atop soft bread on platters: spiced meats of all types, grains, lentils, vegetables... all eaten with bread and hands and nothing else. My taste buds thanked me.

9:00 pm: The National (venue) Why? and Yo La Tengo. Reminds you how good indie rock can get when professional and unpretentious balance out. We run into Mireille about 78 seconds after getting there. World? Not big. Afterwards there are beers and cabs and kitties and sleep.

Sunday October 1:

10:00 am. Wake up, shower. No one around yet. Weren't we supposed to meet to go to breakfast around 10:00?? 10:15 am Mike and Steve show up. 10:30 James shows up, tells us that Mo can't make it 'til 11am. 10:35 Mireille calls asks for directions, she is 15 minutes away. Dave, Cristal and Jess show up. 10:45 am Mo calls and won't be joining us, we'll pick him up after breakfast. We wait for Mireille. 11:30 am... no Mireille, we follow our stomachs to Greene's on Greene. We have huge breakfasts, made even more impressive by one half of the group splitting an enormous smoked meat poutine.

1:30 pm. We pick up Mo, find our way out of MTL.

5:00 pm. Stop for gas, somewhere. Pick up 12 Labatt's 50 for Howard, James M. buys two quarts of near lethally alcoholized beer, stores them in the hatch of the van, and we're off.

7:00 pm. Stop in Edmunston for food... they've taken the Subway around the corner to beat it up. Mo. opens the hatch to get something from his bag... James' quarts attack him, he defends himself, he wins, James loses. Mo buys James a sub. And we're off.

10:30 pm. Fredericton. I watch Basquiat. I go to sleep.

Monday October 2

7:30 am I get up and start to gather documentation for grants... and the cycle continues.