Invisible Ink

Merry Ho Ho

2009-12-24T15:39:00.003-05:00

So I'm back home with the parents for Christmas, and, suffice to say, things are quite quiet around these parts. I guess I'm glad to be back. Beats the alternative: hanging around Ottawa on Christmas Day alone. It looks as though things will be a little busy for me next week as I continue to make some story pitches, as I contemplate a return to freelance journalism. We'll see how it goes. In 2010, more or less.

Getting back to Barry's Bay was a bit of a hassle. The bus station in Ottawa was a zoo, mostly as people formed a huge line-up for Toronto to head back there for the holidays. I felt sorry for the poor suckers. I'm glad I got there early as the Renfrew-Pembroke line, which I took, was a little on the long side too.

Once one the bus, I had the misfortune of having a young man sit beside me with an "electronic cigarette" that emits water vapour. He asked the bus driver if he could smoke it, and of course he got an answer of "No." So what does this dude do? He smokes it anyway all the way from Ottawa to my stop in Renfrew. Nice. I guess he was just looking for attention. But I couldn't help but note what a doofus this guy was. Only I get to sit beside the kooks, I guess.

So that's it for me for now. Merry Ho Ho and Happy New Year and all that!

Stuart Hickox

2009-12-17T16:45:00.005-05:00

This is a post about Stuart Hickox, who is running a non-profit organization in Ottawa called Project Porchlight / One Change. Basically, trying to get people to replace their regular light bulbs with the CFL variety.

He was recently interviewed on Newsworld about whether or not these bulbs cause UV radiation, which you can watch here. He handles himself quite well, and I couldn't take my eyes off him during the interview. He also (infrequently) writes a blog called Walden Cabin, which you can read here.

He and I met up a number of years ago when I was on the wane of my freelance journalism career, and he was just getting started -- by being published in both Reader's Digest and Macleans, the lucky son of a gun. We were both members of the Professional Writers Association of Canada for a while, and I think we were both running the Ottawa chapter for a very scant short time.

I've kind of lost touch with Stewie since I wound up moving to Toronto in '07. But he's gone onto some great success with Project Porchlight, which I'm quite envious of. How does he do it? I don't know. But I wish him all of the best, and hopefully I might be able to reconnect with him sometime -- if he has the time. I was thinking of getting more involved with volunteer work, and it would be cool to deliver light bulbs.

Speaking of which, I'm really digging those funky new light bulbs. I use them on a lamp I bought from IKEA this year in my living room and I figure I'm saving about $2 or $3 a month simply by using them, instead of the regular bulbs in my kitchen area. Cool stuff that this guy is doing, then. I hope he can keep up the good work.

A Vinyl Haul From Legend Records

2009-12-16T15:33:00.008-05:00

One of the great vinyl stores in Ottawa is Legend Records. I use to frequent there all of the time when I was living in the west end, as it used to be in the Lincoln Fields shopping mall. Well, they've moved to a new store on Wellington Street since I moved to Toronto. And today I decided to give myself a little treat and check it out.

The new store is, quite simply, huge. There's at least four anti-chambers in the place, which is a big improvement over the old store -- where some of the records were crammed into cupboard beneath the shelves in the tiny space that they used to have. The guy who runs the place now has dividers noting what artist is in that section along the shelves, which makes it a lot easier to find what you're looking for.

So here's what I picked up:

I got the Carpenters' Now and Then album. Cheesy, I know, but one of my aunts used to have this on 8-track and I gave it a good wearing out as a kid. Eager to see if the record still holds up to my memories.

I'm on a bit of a Blue Oyster Cult kick lately, and while I know that their first four or five albums are probably the best, I picked up the Some Enchanted Evening live set, and Imaginos, which I'm curious to hear as I understand it is a bit of a return to form after the horrendous Club Ninja.

I also managed to score Chicago's V and VII, which pretty much rounds out my collection of said band. (I still have a few gaps post-Terry Kath but I'm not too interested in filling them in.) I now own pretty much everything they did from 1969 to 1978, which are the key years.

That's pretty much it, though I was tempted to scour for more. Early Christmas gift to myself I guess.

I should mention that the rarities in the store are amazing. The dude who runs the place happens to have a rare promo copy of Led Zeppelin's "Stairway To Heaven" on 7-inch. As many of you may know, the group decided to forgo releasing that song as a single at the last minute, so that's a particularly cool thing to have in stock. I didn't really go rummaging, but there's a section of Beatles vinyl ... both in mono and in stereo!

When I was buying the records, I mentioned that I hadn't been there in awhile as I had moved to Toronto for two years. It turns out the owner's daughter moved there, and doesn't like it too much. She's having a hard time making new friends down there, and kind of misses Ottawa. That's sort of parallel to my story, I guess. Funny how these things line up.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some vinyl to listen to. :-)

PopMatters Reviews

2009-12-15T17:51:00.003-05:00

Since I took some time off from blogging, I've missed out on posting some links to PopMatters books (and a lone CD) reviews that I've done over the past few months. I thought I would rectify the situation and put a bunch of them up:

I Am A Genius Of Unspeakable Evil And I Want To Be Your Class President

Chronic City

Brilliant Colors: Introducing (the lone CD review I've done so far)

Going Away Shoes and Ferris Beach

Her Fearful Symmetry

It Feels So Good When I Stop

People I Miss In Toronto

2009-12-15T16:12:00.007-05:00

I was cruising through my analytics and see that someone in Spain has found my blog. How cool. It seems as though it must have been by accident, as they didn't stay for very long. Still, it is nice to know that my blog has a global reach.

Trying to keep up my pace here and I don't really know what to blog about, so I though I would do some "grass is greener" belly-gazing and blog about all the people I miss in Toronto. I didn't really hang out much with people, which if I could do all over again, I would have maybe gotten a little more social during my time spent there. So many good people that I worked with, and would love to see again if I had a chance. These include:

Jason Ainsworth -- My friend in T.O. who was originally from L.A. We hung out a lot in 2007, and went to a lot of movies and went on a lot of ROM walks on Sundays. We didn't really see too much of each other when he started dating, but he was a good friend. I am looking forward to the mix CDs that he is reportedly working on and will send me.

J.P. Casino -- This guy helped me out a lot when we both got laid off from Critical Mass at the same time, by providing me a list of contacts that I should hit up. I wish I hung out more with him. He's a really cool guy. Glad to hear that he's been super successful at his new job.

Jennifer Vetterli -- Probably my favourite person I follow on Twitter as she's unafraid to tweet about all of the frustrating things that happen in her life, without fear of judgment from others. She's super-smart and does an excellent job as an Information Architect (now, Senior IA, I'm told). Always a good person to talk to in the office, and she has a helluva good taste in music. I, too, wish I hung out with her a little more often.

John McArdle -- We would sometimes take time off lunch at CM to go vinyl shopping at Rotate This! Ah, those were the days. He, too, has an incredible taste in music -- he introduced me to F***ked Up and Oneida -- and he is an incredible photographer to boot. Just as I'm typing this, he tweeted me, in fact, to thank me for complimenting him on some of his photos, which he posted to Flickr earlier today. I, too, really wish I had hung out with him more often. We were supposed to meet up at a No Age show at The Horseshoe Tavern in 2008, but that never transpired, alas. We were, though, both at the same show! I guess we just got our wires crossed or something, or maybe I got there too early to find him as I took a plum spot at the front of the stage/mosh-pit. I forget.

Tyler Lockyer -- He was the go-to-guy for all of the social events in the CM office, who, alas, got laid off on the same day as I did. I should probably thank him for the trip to the casino in Niagara Falls, as I won $600 as a result of that office social outing. The last I saw of him was the day after the lay-off earlier this year, as we met up for coffee at the neighbourhood Starbucks. He was going on a trip to Cuba during the upcoming days, as I can recall. Was never really super-close with him, probably because he was a bit younger, but I should have hung out more with him. (I sense a recurring theme here.)

There are probably other people that I miss, and there's always of course Matt Milan (but that's another blog post), but I think those are the major ones. I really should have gotten out more in Toronto, and realize that there were so many people around me that I could have been a bit more social with. I guess I found making new friends to be a bit awkward for me. Maybe I just enjoyed the company of my vinyl collection at home a bit too much. But there are loads of good people that I left behind and I'm glad to have known them. I, of course, have great friends in Ottawa, which I am thankful for.

UPDATED TO ADD: How could I forgotten about Patricia Storms, the writer of children's books and author of Booklust? We knew each other before I went to Toronto -- I commissioned her to do the artwork for a book of poetry that never saw the light of day -- but we met up a few times when I moved to T.O. She was always funny, and great to talk to. She even tried to help me line up a job when I found myself unemployed. I hear that she's been very successful with her new book, The Pirate and The Penguin, and hope that she's doing alright. (She hasn't updated her blog in a month.)

Also, David Mills, another IA at Critical Mass. We talked a lot about books when I was working there, as his wife runs a bookstore, and he even Secret Santa'ed me a vinyl copy of the Grateful Dead's Workingman's Dead album. (I knew it was from him as he was really the only Deadhead in the office.) We didn't hang out after work as he was a family man with kids, but he was a really cool guy and I miss him greatly.

Disappointing Records of 2009

2009-12-14T15:09:00.007-05:00

So it is the time of year for Best of 2009 releases at the usual suspects like Pitchfork and PopMatters, the latter of which I write for. It's pretty obvious what Record of the Year is, at least at Pitchfork. If the new Animal Collective full-length doesn't get it, as it was something like No. 14 in the Best of the Decade poll, I will eat my hat. (I expect a high showing from the new Grizzly Bear album as well, which may, just may, play spoiler.)

So I decided to do something different. Compile a list of disappointments from 2009, and, boy, were there a lot this year, as far as I can tell. Here are a list of the most notable ones from me:

Peter, Bjorn and John -- Living Thing

Is this the same band that brought us Writer's Block? What gives? This album takes a turn away from the baroque pop of the former album, and replaces it with a glitchy technological sheen. The only really memorable song is "It Don't Move Me", which was also the first single. The lyric sheet is especially embarrassing: "Hey, shut the f*ck up boy, you're starting to p*ss me off, take your hands off that girl, you have already had enough." (Cringe.) I'm not against new directions, but after almost completely abandoning their old sound, this band really alienated this listener. And Rolling Stone gave this four stars? What were they thinking?

The Fiery Furnaces -- I'm Going Away

This is not really a bad album, per se, but it is a bit disappointing as it is more straight-up and less discordant than their previous releases. There's not a lot on this one that grabbed me from the outright, and it just seems kind of bland and boring compared against Blueberry Boat, which is one of my favourite "weird" releases.

The Decemberists -- The Hazards of Love

This one gets my vote for Worst Album of the Year. While the Fiery Furnaces stepped away from the prog rock, these guys all but embraced it on this release. The problem is, there is hardly a proper song on this thing to be heard. It all sort of just blends together into one big mess, and the "concept story" really doesn't make a lot of sense. My eyeballs hurt just looking at the lyric sheet. I was really disappointed with this one, particularly since their former album, The Crane Wife, is so good and varied.

Bob Mould -- Life and Times

This is actually a pretty not bad album, but it just seems that Mould is sort of resting on his laurels and is just trying to rote rock out these days. Better this than the garbage he had to offer up on Modulate, I suppose, but I haven't really fully embraced a Mould record since The Last Dog and Pony Show, which came out 11 years ago. Perhaps people change and their tastes might grow, as my seem to have, but wouldn't it be nice if we could get another Warehouse: Songs and Stories out of Mould? Just one more like that one? Pretty please?

The Flaming Lips -- Embryonic

I would suppose that this is not a bad album, either, but it seems like such a comedown after Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots. The songs pretty much blend together, and it goes on and on for about 70 minutes. I admire that they were trying to make a "double album", but it would have been nice if they had a few more proper songs, and not noise collages and off-beat experiments on this one. Maybe that makes me a hypocrite, considering what I said about the Fiery Furnaces above, but I just haven't been able to get into this one at all. Maybe it's a grower?

Yo La Tengo -- Popular Songs

Again, not really a bad album, per se, but I really haven't dug into the second half of the record at all, considering that it is nothing but three long, mostly instrumental pieces. I could have done with just one. Another album that I haven't really revisited much, but, then again, maybe this one is a grower ... .

Good Times

2009-12-13T17:35:00.007-05:00

I had a very busy and productive weekend, in that I met up with three groups of people during the course of it.

I met up with my friend Wes yesterday and it was a very early start. I met him at the Elgin Street Diner at nine in the morning. Very early in the morning for me, especially on the weekend when I'm prone to sleeping in. Breakfast was alright: I could have done without the beans on the side that the ESD seems to serve. But the conversation was good and veered from Tom Waits to Touch of Evil to Wes' skin grafts on his teeth. I enjoyed hanging out with him, which is hard to do these days considering he has two children now. Hopefully, he'll have some more time for me during the Christmas-New Year's break.

I then rushed over to Moxie's Bar and Grill in the Bayshore Shopping Center (which was a zoo!) for lunch with my aunt and grandma. I had some calamari salad, which was very yummy, and even indulged myself in a white chocolate brownie -- which I wondered about afterwards considering that I'm trying to lose weight.

Then, this morning, I went over to my friends Anita and James' place for a brunch that consisted of yummy cheese scrambled eggs and medallion sausages. The breakfast was yummy, and the conversation was good too. It's hard to meet up with these friends, as well, considering that they also have a small child. (I have to admit that during the breakfast I was wishing and alternatively not wishing that I had one of my own.) We, too, will hopefully see more of each other in the New Year, as there is talk of starting up a games night. This is not to speak of the Horror Movie Club that James usually hosts. (UPDATED TO ADD: Thanks for the cookies, Anita!)

All in all, it was a very satisfying weekend. I wish more of them were like this one.

Matthew Milan, Boy Genius

2009-12-11T18:37:00.010-05:00

So, instead of being down about my lack of work right now, I thought I would blog about something more positive and upbeat: my experience working with one of the design world's most genius innovators: Matthew Milan. I don't want to be a sycophant, but I thought that maybe some postive posting might go a long way for my positivity.

Matthew and I go way back: all the way back to elementary school. We were in the same Advanced Learners class, even though we were in separate schools. (The class was held every week at St. John Bosco in Barry's Bay, Ontario, which I attended so I didn't have to go anywhere ... unlike poor Matthew who would have to hop a bus each week just so he could take part). I don't remember an awful lot about those classes, except for the occasional talk about Edward de Bono, which Matthew would bring up in conversation when I went to work for him at Critical Mass in Toronto.

We then played together, in high school, on the same Reach For The Top trivia team. Matthew was a monster at the game, frequently scoring more than 200 points in televised matches, which were taped in Pembroke, Ontario. I even saw him answer a 40-point question with maybe just five words of the question given. I remember the answer to this day: Cassius Clay. Seems that Matt had practically memorized all of the old trivia questions in former games -- which I guess the powers-that-be sometimes recycled -- and was able to answer the question based on memory. It was crazy. The guy just completely dominated trivia.

We lost contact after awhile when we moved onto university. But, when I posted to a Toronto newsgroup a few years ago that I was looking to move out of Ottawa and try life in a different city, Matt answered the call. He basically asked me for my résumé and walked it over to the HR department at Critical Mass when I e-mailed it to him. Two job interviews later, and I got the job as an Information Architect (IA), which was a completely new field to me.

Life in Toronto was very difficult for me to adjust to in the beginning. But Matt was patient -- the whole organization was very patient with me, in fact. When I started contributing a bit more, Matt became something of a mentor, showing me how to use Visio to make wireframe mockups -- one-on-one. I was completely amazed at his skill using the program, and just his general thinking altogether. He was, again, a monster in the role. He claims that when he first started out as an IA, that he had to sometimes phone other people to help him solve the occasional design problem. I don't believe it. Nothing fazed the guy, at least in my working experience with him. I never once saw him crushingly fail at whatever he put his mind to. The guy, in short, was a genius. No problem, big or small, fazed him. He might have (minorly) kvetched the odd time about something he had to solve, but when it came right down to it, with time, he always found a solution. And that solution was usually the right one.

Matt even tried throwing me extra responsibility in my role by having me develop a series of training courses for other staff in the office. Unfortunately, while I did all of my research and put together a number of PowerPoint decks to this task, these courses never came to pass -- for whatever reason. (I think it was because we just got generally busy with our major client, and these courses sort of just slipped to the back burner, alas, as "billable work" was more important to the company.) I look back on that and wish that I was able to complete that work, but I appreciated the opportunity to be able to do it in the first place. I think Matt was right in putting me on that task: he knew that I was a skilled researcher and could complete it without much in the way of supervision.

The thing that I appreciate now, looking in the rear view mirror, was that Matt was always pushing me to be better. And the thing that I particularly appreciate was Matt usually had the time for me to answer my questions, no matter how insignificant they might have seemed. (Well, per se, I suppose.)

Not everything was rosy, and I include this section just to make it look like I'm not unnecessarily kissing up to the guy. (Also, it's probably the journalist in me.) I recall that on one of the Spyglass research projects -- basically, a forward-thinking exercise about pitching certain ideas and products to our clients -- we had to come up with something about geo-tracking technology. (Or along those lines ... .) This was a field that Matt had an education in, but much of the information was so bleeding edge that there wasn't a lot of stuff to find online. That make the project incredibly challenging and frustrating, and Matt was there pushing us to keep looking ... and maybe make a few inferences between the lines. I like hard-cold facts, not coming up with something out of nothing. (Again, it's the journalist in me.) So I found that aspect a little difficult to deal with. How do you impress someone who might know all of the answers but doesn't want to give them up? But I guess that was part of the deal; Matt kept on pushing, and encouraged people to come up with their own ideas, rather than ape his own.

Still, I generally enjoyed working with Matt. And the day that he announced that he was leaving Critical Mass, I sort of knew that it was the beginning of the end for me in the organization. (He was my champion there, and was always vouching for the work that I did. With him gone, I no longer had that.) I could turn to him for anything, even the most personal of things that I might of had a crisis with.

Matt has gone onto bigger and better things. He owns his own design studio in Toronto these days -- Normative Design -- and things, by all accounts, seem to be mostly positive there. Even though I have doubts about my skills as an IA, when he Twitters about all of the good things going on for him, I can't help but wish that I was working there as an IA, too. I don't know how he juggles life at work with an active life at home. (He has a kid, now.) But he does it.

Matt has still been there for me. He was the first person I called after getting laid off from Critical Mass. Whenever I need some job advice, he's been there -- even going so far to talk to me on speakerphone making the long drive from Toronto to the Combermere, Ontario, area where he grew up and has parents. (That was a bit weird, as I could hear my own voice echoing through the car as I was talking.) There's even talk of doing a special project with him -- non-work related, and I probably shouldn't mention it yet as A) it might not even come to pass and B) I don't know if he wants to make it public just yet.

All in all, though, working with Matt was a big pleasure. I can only hope that I get lucky enough to work with someone like him again.

Rogers = Epic Fail

2009-12-11T17:15:00.006-05:00

I know a lot of people like to harp on about the poor service offered by Rogers, but I've experienced exceptionally poor service from the telecommunications giant since last month, in various incarnations.

It all started, as I said, last month, when my Internet went out. It seems that my neighbour in Apt. 804 was receiving free service that she wasn't paying for -- I guess the last guy in her apartment didn't bother to disconnect the service or something -- and so Rogers came to "fix" that problem. Problem is, in disconnecting her, the service dude seems to have disconnected me by accident, and, realizing his mistake, re-jammed in my cable to the box in the cable room and broke the cable connector. Honest mistake, maybe. but you'd think the guy would be more careful.

The issue is that it took Rogers four days to fix the problem. During this time, I got a few meaty job requests from agencies in Ottawa that I couldn't apply for as I had to resubmit my résumé to some of them. Couldn't do that with my Internet service out. So, thanks a lot Rogers, thanks a lot. You cost me a few job interviews, or potential ones.

Last week, I got a call from Rogers ironically asking me to take a survey on customer satisfaction. The bloke on the telephone not only couldn't get my name right, but he was calling me during peak hours -- eating up valuable minutes on my wireless phone bill. Can't Rogers, you know, send out a survey by e-mail? It's a lot less intrusive and doesn't really cost me a thing, Internet service notwithstanding.

Then, today, I got an automated phone call from Rogers claiming that I hadn't returned the DVDs that I had rented from them. This was b.s. as I'd returned them yesterday at 4 p.m. by putting them in the drop box slot inside their store. Maybe I should have taken the extra steps and returned them to the front counter, because when I went to ask one of the sales clerks about it, he was less than enthused about helping me.

I told him I had returned the DVDs yesterday, and his response to me was, "That's impossible." Seriously!

I told him I returned them to the drop box, and he decided to go and check. Lo and behold, all the DVDs I returned were there. I guess someone didn't clean out the drop box this morning, and they got "lost" in the shuffle.

What ticks me off is that he then told me, after the discs had been found, that "I never doubted you." Yes, you did, you freaking twit! You told me that it was "impossible" that I had returned them and that would indicate doubt, wouldn't it?

Seriously, I might just start renting from Blockbuster. And maybe I should go with Bell for all of my services. I can't believe that a company just continuously drops the ball ... every time. Rogers, you fail epically in customer service. Epic fail.

Feeling a Bit Better

2009-12-09T17:26:00.004-05:00

Had a better day today, pretty much snowed in with the storm. (Do you think I was going to go anywhere when it was a blizzard outside? Oh no!) I waited for my aunt and grandma from Deseronto to show up, as they were apparently going to take me out to lunch, but that didn't happen. Probably due to the snow, I guess. I wonder if they even bothered to make the trip to Ottawa.

Got a Christmas card from my mother, so that kind of put me in a better mood. I wonder how many Christmas cards I'll get back from all of the ones that I sent out? Hmmm.

Also have booked a Sunday brunch with my Ottawa pals, James and Anita. So I'm certainly looking forward to that.

All in all, it was a pretty quiet day, though. Did my laundry. Big excitement there. (Note the slight touch of sarcasm.)

Away

2009-11-01T17:08:00.002-05:00

Sorry that I've been away from this thing for awhile. I just got busy with work, and then, last month, found myself unemployed again. The last thing I wanted to do was get on here and moan about how bad things seemed to be in my life. (Getting laid off twice in one year, etc...). I think I honestly have come to a point where I don't know what to say about myself without seeming to whine and kvetch, if not feel sorry for myself. I am hopeful, however, I will have positive news to post here soon. Been getting a few nibbles at least in my job hunt. So that's a good thing. Other than that, things have been pretty quiet over here. Nothing new to report, really. It'd be nice if things did pick up, though. Here's hoping.

Souvenirs From the New World [The Author's Cut]

2009-08-07T23:43:00.003-04:00

Sorry if I haven't really updated this blog in awhile. I've been busy with work and just generally goofing off.

I do have some news, however. I got published twice in Girls With Insurance this week. Both are old stories that were published on a previous iteration of the site.

You can read the stories by clicking on the links below.

Double Income, No Kids

Souvenirs From the New World

But I have a special treat for you readers. I initally wrote Souvenirs as a 9,000 word story, then truncated it to 1,000 words so that it would be more easily publishable. So there's a "director's cut" of the story, which I will post below in all of its unedited glory. As you can see, the longer cut takes a vastly different direction. Hope you enjoy!

Souvenirs From The New World
By Zachary Houle

1.

There are no more places on Earth left to explore. This is a fact. For the last 100 years or so, every inch of the planet has been discovered. Our sights are now on the nearby planets, perhaps someday the stars. But Mel's dad? He always had other ideas.

Every Friday night, he would get into his easy chair in the basement of his house and strap a pair of completely opaque goggles to his head. For the remainder of the evening and the next two days, he would sit utterly still and quiet, as though he were watching the most fascinating, edge-of-your-seat play of the Super Bowl in slow-motion. He barely ever got up, if only to eat and go to the bathroom every once and again. Mel told me that he did this strange behavior because he saw himself as an explorer. According to her, however, he felt the only places anyone could truly explore are the places within.

I thought this had to be the biggest crock of shit I'd ever heard in my life (not that I told her, of course). Still, there had to be a reason for this behaviour, and I naively thought that maybe things would make more sense if I got the real reason directly from the horse's mouth. So I asked him about it one weekday evening when I got some alone time away from Mel. As I recall, Mel's dad had wanted to show me some stuff in his basement. (Mel had been busy upstairs polishing off the last of her math homework.) His answer to me at the time was a little less than direct - a question followed by a question of his own. He always pulled off shit like that though. It was something of an annoying habit of his.

"You know what was great about the 1500s, 1600s?" he said, fumbling around on a shelf full of paperweights and useless knick-knacks that looked as though they came from someone's garage sale.

"No idea," I said with a useless shrug.

"Anyone could be an explorer," he said, running a finger along the dusty armchair where he'd sit every weekend. "There was no fucking government with a monopoly on exploration. Nah. All you had to do was have a ship, a bit of balls, and off you go."

"I thought European royalty financed a lot of those expeditions," I countered.

"Eh?" he said.

"We learned that in, like, Grade 9," I said. "You know, either the King was paying your way, or you had to have friends who were rich or in high - ."

"So what are you and Mel doing this weekend?" he quickly asked overtop my statement, as though I hadn't said a thing.

Fucking cockbiter, I thought.

"Same as we always do," I said, with a shrug. "Maybe go rent a movie. Maybe even take over the world, if we're lucky."

The last bit was a joke, but Mel's dad seemed to either not "get it" or not care, as evident by the vacant look on his face.

"Well, if my expeditions weren't so goddamn important, I'm not sure I'd leave the two of you young rabbits together," he said. "God only knows what the two of you do together when you're alone, eh?"

I sighed, and supposed for a second that I could consider telling him the truth for once. I could have told him that a teenager can only go so far without fucking the person they were dating without losing complete and utter interest, since Mel and I hadn't gone much further than first or second base. I guess she had her reasons for not wanting to go beyond that, despite the fact that I'd almost practically moved into her house and had staked my claim to the territory within. I'd always figured staking a claim to her seemed to be the next logical step. In any event, I kept my mouth shut, which was probably the best thing in retrospect. Who the hell knew what a man who sat for hours on end in his basement doing absolutely nothing was capable of?

Anyway, Mel's dad started laughing at me as I stood there stammering for the most appropriate answer. His laughter was like a stupid little pneumonic cough.

"Ha! I'm kidding, see," he said, poking a stubby finger rather painfully into my arm. "I think you're good for Mel. She sorta could use some looking after, considering her mother ... ."

His laughter turned into a few legitimate coughs, which stopped almost as soon as they started.
Then he looked at me like he'd just finished sucking on a lemon. The guy had worse mood swings sometimes than Mel, who could go from irresistibly happy to a complete sourpuss.

"Does she ever talk about her mother?" I asked.

"Hell, no," he said. "What's the point?"

"I was just curious," I muttered, a half-hearted attempt at apology for broaching the subject. But what I said was true. I was curious. Mel never talked about her to me, which made me wonder if she hadn't gotten over it yet. I mean, the death could explain her dad's weird behaviour, but Mel ... ? She didn't say anything on the topic. Which was another potentially good reason for breaking up. Who knew what kind of hidden baggage she might be carrying around?

Of course, there was a reason why I'd always dragged my heels on the break-up question: that Mel had even agreed to go out with me in the first place pretty much wrote the book on where I stood in that town's teenage dating hierarchy. It wasn't like I was ugly or anything - and neither was Mel, I might add. I just kinda had a habit of fading into the background. Being invisible. Lacking confidence. That lack was what I conversely sought in a girl, so when I discovered Mel in math class, she rightfully took the bait when it came in the form of a passed note from yours truly.

"Hey, remember what I wanted to show ya?" Mel's dad said excitedly, as though any talk of his dead wife was something that'd happened years ago.

"I found it. Come, look here ... ."

When I came to stand beside him, he pulled something that looked like a small piece of paper off a nearby shelf. He held it out on his hand to me, and motioned that I should take it.

"I found that on my last expedition," he said. "Boy, was that a doozy. I found a land with a purple sky and a giant light bulb for a sun. It was really hot."

"I bet," I mumbled.

"Yeah, you should have seen it!" he said excitedly, missing any trace of sarcasm in my voice. "Anyway, you should take a look at this."

I took the object and looked at it. It was a crude drawing of a cowboy with his back turned, hovering over a little chamber pot. There was a cut out square where the cowboy's ass should have been. Suddenly, Mel's dad stuck the crook of his bent thumb into the square, and it now looked like the cowboy had his butt sticking out. Neat trick, I thought woozily, almost not resisting the urge to roll my eyes ceiling-ward.

"This is money in the world I discovered," he said, grabbing the piece of paper from me. "It's a ten dollar bill if the cowboy isn't taking a shit, a twenty dollar bill if he is. What do you think of that, eh? Eh?"

"That's ... um ... neat," I said, now struggling to come up with something decent to say that didn't sound like an automatic insult.

"Yeah, isn't it?" he said, gazing at the paper as though it might be actually worth something. He then placed it back on the shelf, clapped his hand on my shoulder and smiled.

"There some weird lands to discover, I tell ya. Who knows? If I collect enough of this stuff, show it to the museum in town, maybe someday I'll be rich and famous like that Champaign guy."

"You mean Samuel de Champ - ," I tried to correct.

"You're a good kid," he said. "I'm glad my daughter found a decent, upstanding guy like you. Heh!"

I sighed and tried not to flinch too much as he clapped a hand on my shoulder. He smiled that shit-crazy grin of his. And, I had to wonder: What the hell was I doing here? I knew it wouldn't be the last time, either, which had me wondering all over again. What was I doing here? What the hell was I doing?

2.

One Saturday afternoon, the next weekend after the aforementioned quality time with Mel's dad in fact, Mel and I were lounging about her house. The TV in the living room had just issued a tornado warning for the area, and the purple cloud bottoms outside had been shaped into menacing raspberries on the prowl. That, I figured, did not look like a very encouraging sign. And that was notwithstanding the fact that one of these raspberries seemed to be rotating.

"Maybe we should just head for the basement," suggested Mel, with a panicked look on her face.

"But your dad's down there," I countered.

"So?"

"Weeeellllll," I said, "We wouldn't want to disturb him or anything."

Which was true, to a degree. I just didn't like the idea of being in the basement when Mr. Fruit Loops was on one of his chartered trips. God only knows what could happen, and, besides, I'd been searching for an excuse to finally tell Mel that I was no longer interested in her. That I was thinking that maybe it would be better if we just broke up. Problem was, I was chicken shit. I really didn't know how Mel would take it.

"What's the matter?" she sighed. "It's not like you've seen firsthand how messed up he is. C'mon. Let's just go down there. Just in case."

She then grabbed my hand and led me down the narrow, creaky stairwell into the basement, which was a single open room taken up by a furnace in one corner, a ping-pong table in another and figurative mountains of shit and cheap stuff scattered in clusters throughout the rest of the concrete room. Sure enough, there was Mel's dad, hands gripped tightly around the arms of his armchair. He was wearing his blinders, but you could see that he was squinting with intense concentration - the lines around his eyes betrayed that bit of information. What's more, it looked as though he were snarling; his lower lip even twitched at certain points. The guy was clearly out of it. He was off in Inner-space or La La Land or wherever it was that he was.

It was almost comical, looking at Mel's dad like that. I couldn't help but think that he was constipated, that he was trying (and failing) to take the biggest crap of his life. I smirked and just went to one of the shelves with his knick-knacks, keeping an ear peeled to the outside world just in case you could hear that low rumbling sound of a railway freight train barreling down at you.

"C'mon," said Mel, tugging at my arm. "You don't want to look at that boring shit. I'll show you something really interesting."

I let her lead me to a corner of the basement, past her old man's work area full of power tools and handsaws, where there was a pile of moldy boxes stacked up one upon the other.

"Is this the southwest corner of the basement?" I wondered a bit loudly aloud.

"Quiet, you," she said quietly and breathlessly. She ripped open one of the boxes and starting rooting through it, tossing out the odd item here and there. A child's drawing of a pink panda. A small, plastic Lego house complete with window and door. Then, she tossed out a kid's book called POGO LEARNS ABOUT DEATH. It had a cute cartoon penguin on the cover. I picked it up and started to flip through it, only to be interrupted by Mel softly saying, "Here it is."

I looked up. "Here what is?"

"This," she said, thrusting a picture into my hands.

It was an old, fading color picture of a man and a woman, clearly taken on their wedding day. They were standing on a small grassy knoll, with what looked to be the tailfin of a really old car in the background.

"It's my Mom and Dad," she said. "This box is where Dad keeps all the stuff that he can't bare to look at. All the stuff he hasn't destroyed."

"Destroyed?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, at one point, he took most of her stuff, stuff that might remind him of her. He put it in a few boxes and threw it on the barbeque. Someone had to call in the fire department."

She started returning the items she'd already taken out back into it, and added, "I guess this was one of the boxes that he never got around to burning."

"Oh?" I replied, half wanting to start sprinting up the stairs and run out the door to the outside world, regardless if there were tornadoes or not. Instead, I asked another question.

"So he's been doing this for a long time?" I whispered, pointing to her dad in the chair.

"Just about as long as I can remember," she replied. "The thing is, every time he 'goes away' he keeps bringing back all this weird stuff."

When she had said "goes away," Mel had made parenthetical marks with her hands. Just like her old man would do sometimes. Jesus.

"That picture in your hands?" she added. "That was one of the things he brought back. Said it was currency in some other 'land' that he discovered. Stupid, isn't it."

I thought back to that picture of the cowboy, and wondered what it took for him to go from wanting to burn this picture to treating it like money. It made me want to shake my head, bury it in my hands and pull out most of my hair. This was just starting to get too fucked up. In fact, I even found myself asking a familiar question. What was I doing here? I asked myself this question for what felt like the fourteenth million time.

Instead of throwing a shit fit, I gave the photo back to Mel, who happened to touch my fingers as she took the picture. It wasn't an accident. She practically stroked my forefinger as she moved to snatch the photo.

"What happened to your mom anyway," I decided to offer. "You still have yet to tell me."

I should have known better that to ask, but I suppose I was secretly hoping things might be different this time. That maybe she would finally open up. That she would finally tell me. That this could lead to other possibilities involving the horizontal position - not to get too far ahead of myself.

But nothing, and I mean nothing, usually got Mel's back up faster than asking her what happened to her mother. The rumor was around school that Mel's mother had died giving birth to her. I'd yet to confirm with anyone, including my folks, that this was indeed true. No one really knew, and, what's more, hardly anyone seemed to care. Mel and her dad were a family that had somehow slipped beneath the radar of town gossip. Because they barely left their home, had no nearby relatives and took part in none of the town's community events - not even SnowFest, which, I had to admit, was just a few steps above the annual Summer Tractor Pull in banality - it was as though they'd almost disappeared completely from the ebb and flow of small-town life. Now that I knew what Mel's dad was up to, I had to wonder how long it'd take before the two of them would slip off the map completely. Of course, it's completely ironic that I thought this, considering what would happen to me a little later that day.

Before I go any further, perhaps I should mention that I've never determined what had really happened to Mel's mom - a cold case that remains unsolved - since Mel never felt she was in a position where she wanted to tell me anything. In fact, taking a cue from her father, Mel just simply ignored the question, and promptly put the photo back in the box. She turned away from me in the process and gave me the cold shoulder. She said nothing as she sealed up the box by folding two of its corners underneath the others. While her back was turned, I wiped my fingers in my jeans as though I'd come into contact with a deadly flesh-eating virus. I knew I had to tell her I wanted to jet for good, but not then. Not yet. Why? Beat the shit outta me ... as it still does.

It was around this time that I perked up my ears to hear what might be happening back in the outside world. So far, I couldn't really tell other than what appeared to be the sound of the odd wind guest echoing through the upstairs portion of the house, not to mention the soft pitter-patter of rain metallically and occasionally hitting the eves outside. There were a few small windows in the basement, of course, but I couldn't see out them, seeing as though Mel's dad had gotten the bright idea to tint them slightly. I'd assumed it was so nobody could peer in and see him motionlessly looking inside himself lest anyone think he was cuckoo, but who the hell knew why he did it? It's not like the guy ever explained himself well.

Anyway, stupid thoughts began to fly about in my head: for starters, what might happen if there was indeed a twister "imminent or in the area" as the weather reports seemed to indicate? Two: how on earth would I get Mel's dad out of that chair if walls started to collapse around us, if all of the boundaries with the outside world suddenly became obliterated? I very much doubted there'd be any freaking way he'd be getting him out of the basement, unless he snapped out of it briefly as he sometimes did to go on bathroom break or whatever, and there was no damn way I was going to strap that chair to my back and carry him up the stairs. If Mel was expecting that, well, she could find another boyfriend. No problem with me there. Nope. Except ... .

"Is there, like, a radio down here or something?" I asked, trying to distract myself from my thoughts. "You know, just in case something happens we should know about?"

Mel shook her head. "I think the only portable one we have doesn't have batteries."

"What happened to them?"

"What do you think?" she said. "He takes them with him when he goes exploring. Just in case he might need them or something."

"Where does he keep them?" I asked, motioning to Mel's dad.

Mel looked at me like she was personally offended.

"Um, I don't think you want to go rooting through his pockets for a bunch of batteries. You really don't know what else he keeps in there."

She had me there, and that's besides the fact I didn't want to go digging and find something that felt like a shoe but was shaped like a rocket. I shuffled my feet and tried my best to change the subject.

"Yeah. So, um, you wanna play a game or something? You know, until its safe to go out?"

Mel's penetrating gaze suddenly seemed to go up a few notches on her scale of personal contempt.

"What do you want to play? Risk?"

"Jesus, you had to be sarcastic," I snapped.

"What makes you think I was being sarcastic?" she said, now looking wounded.

I threw up my hands and simply said nothing, figuring that was now in my best interest. I, instead, began picking at a smallish, rectangular box on a nearby workhorse. It was a puzzle box, one advertising a 100-piece puzzle of a bunch of poodles sticking their heads out of a flowerbed. Tacky grandma Americana shit. The box was well worn and it looked it like it was manufactured in 1974 or something. Definitely yard sale material, I figured. I wondered why anyone bothered to keep it around. I bet pieces were even probably missing.

I glanced back towards her dad, sitting still there on that plush armchair of his. Still concentrating on the nothingness, the nothing that lay beyond his body. He was on vacation far, far away inside himself. I stood there, trying to figure out what he might be thinking as he went about his own business inside his head ...

... and that's when I heard it. Not something in the outside world, but something inside. It was an unusual sound: a zipper that was in the process of being unzipped. Mel's pants zipper, to be precise. Hearing this sound had the same effect as watching an old movie where a sequence or frames are occasionally missing in the print. You couldn't help but notice.

"Is this it?" Mel said, somewhat tearfully. "Is this what you want?"

I turned to see her fumbling with the button of her jeans. It unfastened, and suddenly I was staring into uncharted territory. No Man's Land, even.

"Jesus!" I yelled softly, mindful of silent partner in this relationship. I pointed to her old man. "Your dad is right there."

"So?"

"He'll wake up!"

"If you hadn't noticed, the guy's completely comatose."

"For now!"

"Well. If that's the way you want it," she said, sighing, starting to undo all that she'd done by tugging at her fly.

"God, no" I croaked, realizing that I perhaps wasn't seizing the moment here by just going with the whole charade - if that's what you could even call it. Everything I was looking for - a hop in the sack - was suddenly and rather strangely being offered on a silver plate. Pointing out the ridiculousness of the whole situation, let alone that it was coming directly after one of her moodier outbursts against me, wasn't going to exactly get me what I wanted.

On the other hand, being struck by lightning would have been a much more honorable way to die than whatever consequences I could dream up about being caught by Mel's dad in the act of fucking his daughter. This naturally assumed Mel's dad was capable of such things like strangulation, though I wasn't exactly aroused by the thought of possibly finding out first hand.
I suppose, looking back, its possible Mel was hoping something along those lines would happen. Maybe she knew I wanted to break up with her, and wanted to be the one doing the breaking up rather than playing dumpee. It's possible that she came to a quick conclusion in the basement about the status of our relationship and knew that there was indeed the possibility that her dad would snap out of his trance. Perhaps she realized that it'd be easier to cry rape and humiliate me. But I guess I'm not the best person to judge the things that go on inside someone else's mind, considering the confusion that still remains in mine about a number of things.

"It's just, well, what if he has to get up or something?" I hissed softly.

"He won't get up."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"Whatever." I said, trying now not to laugh at how surreal everything that was unfolding seemed. "This is just, um, a little bit ... well, odd."

She then glared at me with her lips pursed, kind of in a way that reminded me of the times my mom looked whenever she was pissed off with me.

"If you're saying I don't know my father, I'll tell you this," she said tersely but quietly, in what had to be in a tone nothing short of clear frustration. "The guy has got a pattern. He takes maybe three breaks a day, and he's not due for another one in maybe two hours. It's like hibernation. He's right out of it, believe me."

Indeed, Mel's dad was still in his easy chair doing absolutely, positively ...nada. He didn't even blink an eyelash. I worried about this, since it'd seemed that he'd been sitting there for an awfully long time. What if I made a move on Mel, and he had to get up and caught us in the act? Or, even worse yet, what if he wasn't really as unconscious as he looked? What if he knew what was really happening between Mel and I, right then and there?

It was enough to make me shake with pre-performance anxiety. I could only wonder if this was how porn actors feel before being called on set.

"Besides, I thought you wanted to play Risk?" she said, suddenly batting her eyelashes at me rather alluringly.

I could have told her that she was putting words into my mouth. But, then again, I could have marched up the stairs and found my own corner of the house to sit in, too.

The strange thing, though, was that everything seemed kind of wrong - and not because of the freaky-deaky aspect of the whole thing. Truth be told, I was a bundle of wires coursing with strange electricity, unsure if I wanted the whole thing to happen or not. However, I'd realized I'd reached the point of no return. I felt I had no choice but to move in closer.

"Wait," she said, keeping me from assisting her strategically remove items of clothing by holding her palm out. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just do it. Close your eyes."

"But ... !" I began to protest.

"I don't want you to see me," she said, even more quietly than usual. She said it quietly enough for me to wonder if she were getting second thoughts or something.

I sighed and did exactly what she wanted. I took a slight breath, closed my eyes and entered inner-space. I didn't realize this put me in a similar headspace as her old man behind us, but it was just as well. By this point, all logic had gone out the window and over the rainbow anyway. If this was what turned her on, this turned her on. And who was I to complain? In retrospect, I suppose I could have at least mentioned that I was a virgin and probably completely inexperienced at anything she was heading towards. Not only that, but, to quote her an old saw, that slow and steady wins the race. Maybe that would have changed everything? Who the hell knows?

In any event, I was soon in complete utter darkness. I could barely see anything, except for the weird constellation of blood vessels floating on the inside of my eyelids. It felt odd, for I suddenly realized I was entirely removed from what was going on around me. I could hear what I naturally assumed was Mel pulling her pants down, but, without the confirmation that sight provides, I couldn't be accurately, 100 per cent sure. I mean, sure, I doubted it could be anything other than that sound, but I had this newfound understanding that you couldn't just take anything for granted without the benefit of being able to take a peek. And, boy, was ever I tempted to. However, I thought it best to merely play along with Mel's weird little game, and with good reason. Being led in the dark like a blind man was the only way to go to get to the place I wanted to go, naturally. I still wasn't entirely sure that she was the one I wanted to go down there with, but as the saying goes, never look a gift horse in the mouth.

I reached out tentatively, my fingers some kind of probe looking for the surface of her body. Then I hit something. Flesh. Bizarre flesh. I thought about it for a minute and realized it was wrinkled skin, some sort of trench. It ended in a sinkhole that my forefinger suddenly became stuck in.

"What are you doing?" she snorted.

"What the hell is that?" I wondered out loud.

"What do you think it is, you ... ?"

She let her sentence linger like an amputated threat; my finger recoiled as though I'd accidentally stuck it in a wall outlet. I was nervous that I had perhaps given away that I was a fraud at any matters involving the opposite sex. Instead, I wrapped my sweaty hand around her naked waist as a means of keeping itself occupied. That seemed to please her. Not that I really knew too much about these things or anything, but I wasn't entirely ignorant, either. I'd gotten a brief education in these things at an early age, the night I stayed the night at Ms. Berton's house - she had been my Grade 2 teacher. My class was scheduled to go on a field trip to a museum in a nearby city the day after my scheduled "visit." See, rather than have to miss the trip due to the impending birth of my kid sister into the world - hey, it'd be educational! - my dad let me, at the last minute, spend the night with my teacher. It was a cheaper form of babysitting, I guess.

Just after Ms. Berton and I had arrived at her old two-storey brick house, I recall coming up the stairs, looking for the room I'd be staying in. I was a little lost - there was two different ways you could get upstairs because there was a stairwell at the front of the house and a stairwell near the back. I took the wrong stairs, the back stairs, and I made a wrong turn. Thus, I wound up not in my room, but Ms. Berton's. And, at that precise moment, she was naked, her back turned to me. All 50-plus years of her. I recall she looked a little like the Michelin Man, she was all puffy and full of rolls. I couldn't stop staring. I couldn't help myself.

And then she turned ... .

"Do you mind?" Ms. Berton said, looking absolutely startled. She fumbled for whatever she'd just been wearing, which was now on the bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flabby tit, hanging there as though it were a rubber tire in need of inflation.

"Sorry," I mumbled, covering my eyes. I stepped back out of there, closed the door behind me and then hurried down the hall, down the stairs and out the front door. I had to tell all my friends what I'd just saw, report it to the world. It wouldn't be hard. It was a small town, one of those places where everyone lives about five blocks from the teacher's house. Nobody would answer the door, though, wherever I knocked. Everyone was too busy preparing for the next day's field trip. Well, when I finally got back to Ms. Berton's house - I had been gone God knows how long - I was startled to find an ambulance and a cop in front of it. I gulped, and felt utterly woozy to my stomach. I thought I was in shit now, if not for seeing Ms. Berton naked, then for running off on her like that. I tried to calculate in my head how much shit I'd be in based on the time I might have been away.

Except, as it turned out, it wasn't even that. It was something far worse. Ms. Berton had had a heart attack, probably mere moments after I'd burst into her room. Someone had found her by the phone in her bedroom, which had been all tangled around her plump, naked arms. Ms. Berton was dead, and I forever have been the one who has considered myself to be responsible for it.

So, until Mel, this had been just about my only experience with women. It was something I didn't think about a lot, but this was what I'd been precisely thinking about as my hand was on Mel's thigh. I wasn't even sure what she was doing or what I was doing, except that I was back there in Grade 2 in my head. (Probably not a good thing, I'm sure.) At some point, I recall that I was standing there in the basement, eyes shut, with someone's voice sounded muffled from outside my imposed blindness.

" ... like that?" a girl said.

I had to wonder ... . What, like that? Did I like that? Did she like that? What was I even doing anyway? I had been so far pulled into my past, pulled so far down the rabbit hole into my thoughts, I barely even knew. What was I doing? Where was I going? What strange forest or box canyon was I headed into next?

And then, while my hand wavered in its place on Mel's outer thigh, I recall being reeled back to earth by the vague awareness that the ground beneath me was moving. No. That wasn't it. It was that Mel appeared to be moving her legs as though she were stepping out of the bottom half of her second skin. Wait! It was something else ... . Something sounding like a stream whistle started to rise, a noise so awful in its shrillness that I briefly wondered if Mel had left a kettle on upstairs on the stove.

And then ... .

Well, this is where things get really weird.

And then, Mel was jerked away from me violently like a rag doll being lifted off the ground by an unseen, invisible arm. I thought I heard her scream. Suddenly, my world started to break apart. I understood there simply might be no more time left in this world to run, to think, to do anything. The walls were closing in on us, and life was doing things in its own merry way. It seemed that Mel and I were suddenly mere puppets, no longer in control of our own bodies.
I found myself suspended in space, hurtling backwards with objects swirling around me like a solar system. Some kind of interstellar gravitational force pushed me back into something that felt like a brick wall. I don't know what happened; it was as though I'd become so used to having my eyes squeezed shut that I'd merely forgotten how to use them. Thus, I was in the rather uncomfortably position of having to take all of my other senses on faith while I was being pushed around, perhaps punished, by the giant thumb of God.

When I landed, though, I can say with absolute certainty that I felt absolutely nothing. I was entirely, completely 100 per cent numb from my neck down. All I knew of my predicament on this earth was that I could see and feel the glow of a 1,000-watt light bulb, one that appeared to be floating behind the shroud of my vision, turning everything through my eyelids into a bright field of pink. I looked at it until seemed to darken, and then slowly turn into the color most associated with royalty.

3.

When I came to, the first thing I noticed was the completely unbearable heat. This was, and still is, my first memory of life in what I've come to know as life in the New World: the feeling of a million tiny points of light over my head.

Once I'd wiped my brow and blinked open my eyes, I saw a single light bulb casting a yellow-y orange light. The bulb was hanging upside down in a purple sky that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was almost like I was sitting on a field in Big Sky Country with the notable exception of the purple haze.

Upon squinting my eyes, the bulb appeared to be somewhat dull and browning from frequent use. It also appeared to quite dusty, as though it were hanging in a cellar somewhere. Some primordial part of me, the part that was still two-years-old, wanted to reach out and touch the light bulb - if only to get confirmation of my existence in this bizarre worldly place.

"Hey, you don't want to touch that," said what appeared to be the voice of Mel's dad from behind me. "That thing will just about fry you up if you aren't careful. Ha!"

I looked behind me and there he was, looming like a giant over me. Mel's dad was all decked out in combat gear, as though he were fighting in Desert Storm or something like that. What's more, his pants pockets bulged with what I presumed were batteries. You couldn't help but notice. His pockets shifted and clacked as he moved forward towards me.

I was about to ask what he was doing here - though I was quite glad to see something familiar. Before I could ask, however, he quickly handed me a canteen before I could part my lips to speak. Being thirsty, I gladly took it from his hands. I gulped down the liquid inside, which strangely tasted like pine needles. I spat it out and gave it back to him.

"Careful, son," he said. "Ya wouldn't want to waste some of the good stuff, there, eh?"

"What good stuff?" I replied. "Tastes like crap to me."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, suddenly changing the topic as he was wont to do. "I got a very important trading ceremony just down the way."

Just as he said this, the light bulb sun shifted its position in the sky to appear directly above him. As though the sun were, perhaps, illustrating to me that this could be a brilliant idea.

"Hey!" said Mel's dad excitedly. "You wanna come check it out? Could be educational and all."

"Do I have any choice?" I replied with a sigh. I didn't wait for an answer. I knew one wasn't coming. As I got up off the, well, ground - if one could call it that, since it appeared to be nothing but the colour brown reaching up into the purple - I became secretly aware that Mel was nowhere to be found. Surprisingly, this made me happy. I didn't have to explain to Mel's dad why her pants were around her ankles or what I had been doing with his daughter in front of him in the basement. This was assuming, of course, he already didn't know, and was merely playing coy.

"So what's the deal with this, uh, gift ceremony?" I asked, once we'd started walking off into the purple.

"Shhh," said Mel's dad. "You wouldn't want to attract the attention of them Grabens. Got to keep it kind of quiet around here. They're nasty, I tell ya. Ha!"

"Nasty?" I asked.

"Everything in this world is dangerous," he said, shaking his head. He said nothing more on the subject. He shut up like a clam. I shrugged and merely followed him. It was the only thing I could think of doing.

We walked aimlessly for what seemed like hours in utter silence and solitude. I peered into the mist of color hoping I could see something that resembled a, well, Graben, but all I could see was the light bulb sun hanging right above us, shedding a muddy beam of light through the murk of our surroundings. It was following us around like a malingering Eureka moment that marked our passage deeper into uncharted territory.

At one point, Mel's dad pulled out a map from one of the many compartments on his uniform. We stopped and looked as he puzzled over it. From the corner of my eye, I could see the map resembled a pencil sketch of a calf's head. Then, Mel's dad crumpled it up and handed it to me.

"You any good at navigating?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"Good," he said, and began walking again. "I'm sure you can make better heads and tails of that than I can. Ha!"

I was going to ask him if he truly knew where he was taking us, but when I caught up with him while smoothing out the now crinkled map in my hands, I noticed that it was now blank. It contained nothing. Not a single mark. It was as though the map had thought that it would be put to better use by being erased and committed silent suicide on itself. For that reason, I decided it was perhaps best to not say a word, unless, of course, Mel's dad specifically asked for some kind of direction. It just seemed easier, though I must say I was disappointed to see that I was now felt entirely directionless. If Mel's dad asked me where we were, I'd have to merely point off into the distance blindly. We trudged along in silence until, finally, shapes like upside-down teepees began to emerge in the color.

Mel's dad slowed his pace, and the sudden reduction in the speed of our steps combined with my sighting of, well, "settlement" made me realize that Mel's dad and I were perhaps getting closer to something resembling a settlement. He then stopped me by reaching across my chest, creating a physical barrier with his arm. I was stay put while he went into the mist. I shrugged and let him do his thing, and within moments returned. What came out of the fog with him, though, simply astonished and amazed me: two little children colored purple with spiky green hair, dressed in what appeared to be a pineapple suit. It was almost like something out of Dr. Seuss or something. I shook my head and nearly buried my face with my hands. If I'd thought that what Mel had done in the basement had been weird, this was turning out to take the cake.

"K'cid y llem suyo, ol' leh," said one of the things as it approached me. (My "translation" is a rough paraphrase of what this speech sounded like, given what I now know about the language of these Things.)

"Restam k'coc liveay ol' leh, ha ye," said the other, raising his left hand.

I looked at Mel's dad with a blank expression and asked him to translate. This, of course, was again a waste of breath and time given that he waved one of his big hands at me and ushered me to follow him, and sit on the ground, Indian style. Just from his body language, I could tell there was no further explanation necessary. Nor would one be forthcoming.

"Watch," he said, once we were sitting down. "They're going to start doing a silly song and dance routine. Then, after we've watched them, then they'll trade with us. You'll see. Heh!"

And, indeed, that's what they did. The duo stood there for a second, looked at each other like Mel's dad and I were the biggest retards on their planet. Then, they started dancing the Electric Boogaloo around us. I looked on in amazement, wondering if late night cable TV was not a thing restricted to our world. They did this until they'd either grown tired or it was time to move onto the trading part of the ceremony. In any event, when they were done, the duo then went back into the purple - briefly leaving Mel's dad and I alone again, giving us a few moments to live alone in our thoughts. I sat there silently, waiting for the synaptic nerve of my brain to start twitching out of sheer boredom. Meanwhile, Mel's dad scratched his ass, and then sniffed his fingers like a child. I tried not to retch at the sight of his immaturity, and turned my attention inward towards other things. Questions I wanted to pose to myself, mainly. Questions like how was I going to get back? Questions like how I was going to break up with Mel once I did? Questions like whether or not she might be still alive.

Strangely, instead of being depressed about this very real possibility, I started to wonder if I'd get lucky after all. I started to wonder that, if Mel died, maybe I would be rid of having to do the dirty work. Suddenly, I felt like a great weight had lifted from my chest, only to come suddenly crashing down when Mel's dad spoke.

"You have to go to the bathroom yet, son?" he asked after a moment of seemingly quiet contemplation, snapping me out of my morbid thoughts.

I was about to reply, but he was able to talk over me even before I opened my jaw.

"'Cause if you're going to pull your pecker out and take a piss, it's best to do it behind one of them things that looks like tee-pees. I'm not into that faggy stuff, you see."

"Rig - ."

"I don't want to see your pecker," he interrupted. "But that's just me."

"Oh?" I said, now wondering if this might have anything to do with Mel and the basement. I wondered: He had been out of it, right? My stomach briefly seized with fear.

"That's beside the fact that the sun up there will probably zip down and fry it off if you aren't secretive enough," he said. He uncorked his canteen and took a swig. He offered it to me, but I politely declined with a wave of the hand.

"That sun is a nasty bastard," he added. "Always looking, always watching. Even when you think you're back is turned. Bam!"

He pounded his fist into his open palm, accentuating the point. He then eased up and smiled.

"Yep," said Mel's dad. "It just wants to be sure you ain't planting no seed by accident in the ground. Pretty protective that there sun. You'd be best off waiting until you get back to our house until you take a piss, I think. That's what I'd do."

Then, he added a lot quietly, "I had a near miss, you see." He grinned a stupid little grin, and offered his trademark "Ha!" before clapping me on the back. This time, I visibly grimaced. I was almost beginning to really wish that Mel were dead if only, perhaps, to finally me rid of this dingbat. I shook my head, wondering if I had what it took to murder someone, and then caught a glimpse of my other oppressor as I looked up at the light bulb hovering above us. It may have been just me, but it now seemed to be glowing with a much brighter and much hotter intensity than it had before. I don't know why. Some things I have yet to figure about at this New World, and that is one of them. When I looked away from the sun, of course, ghostly afterimages started dancing across my eyes.

That'd teach me to directly look into the sun, I figured, rubbing my eyelids so that I might disperse the effect. I could be such a moron sometimes, I thought, realizing that this might not have been the first time I'd thought this. Anyhow, once my vision had cleared, I now noticed that Things One and Two had indeed nearly returned, but were now holding something behind their backs as they walked towards us. Mel's dad motioned for me to stand back up, which I did. As soon as I was back on my feet, he then immediately slipped something into one of my hands so fast that I barely knew had time to register what had just happened. I felt the weight of a fairly light, yet prickly, substance in my hands, and realized I was now holding something. I looked to see what appeared to be crumpled picture or imagine on old photo paper in my hands, presumably a piece of junk. At Mel's dad's prodding, I unfolded it and noticed it was a fading picture of Mel as a young girl sitting on her father's knee. They were both in pajamas. A Christmas tree stood in one corner of the picture, with all sorts of presents underneath. I wanted to look at it, examine it. See if there were any clues as to why Mel's dad was practically giving this photo, this memory away to me.

"Give this to them," he said, nudging me and nodding at the creatures before this. "They might have a surprise for ya in return."

That's when I suddenly understood what Mel's dad meant for me to do. I can't say I felt entirely happy at the prospect of participating in Mel's dad's sell off of all things related to him and his past. But, at that precise moment, I understood that it was a matter of whatever made him and the creatures happy, not a matter of figuring out why it was this made them that way. So I simply became more laid back about the whole ordeal, and began to watch. Observe. Make mental notes.

Thing One greedily took the photo from my outreached hands before I had a chance to really offer it, and - with lightning speed - a small orange box appeared in its place. It was covered in dust, and appeared hollow and empty. My thumb made a smudge in the dust, and the letters TROJ appeared. I didn't need to see the rest. I already knew what this box had contained. I would have tossed it over my shoulder, had I not wanted to offend our hosts. Of course, I had no need for prophylactics here, let alone an empty box that had formerly contained them. However, there was no need to give Mel's dad any clues as to what I may or may not have been up to with his daughter either. Call me paranoid, but there it was.

Mel's dad, meanwhile, was like a kid at Christmas, hopping up and down in the dirt with anticipation. The other Thing whipped out a tiny framed print of a cheesy painting of dogs playing poker, with one small change. A square hole had been cut in the center of the picture.

"Would you look at that?" asked Mel's dad excitedly, taking the item from the Thing. "That's just like the picture the Jamieson's had next door when I was in school. I always wanted that picture. Ha!"

He clapped me on the shoulder with his free hand. The place where his hand connected with my flesh stung.

"This picture's worth money, I'm sure," he explained. "A lot of money."

"Um, there's a big hole in the middle ... ," I began to pointed out.

Mel's dad looked at the two things and said out of the corner of his mouth, Bugs Bunny-like,

"You'll have to excuse the kid. It's his first time here. Means no harm. Ha!"

The two Things looked at each other and then looked at me. One of them stroked its chin with a feather-like finger. Then, it spoke.

"Ec afkcu f'dip tusa rae y'lla eruo y."

The other Thing nodded in agreement, then said, "On'ht row si e'gdi looc mcyb gnit niap siht hucm ow haedi onev ah uoy?"

"Erom'ht row ti sekam e'loh e'ht," said Thing One.

"S'abmu dat ahw," muttered the other Thing, shaking its head.

I wanted to turn to Mel's dad again, and seek some kind of explanation, but he was clearly preoccupied by the picture, examining its surface, putting his fingers into the picture's hole. Upon closer inspection, I realized the hole extended into one of the dog's bellies. I felt utterly sickened, totally revolted. And then he looked up, completely obvious to me, looking like he was a little boy ready to attack his wrapped presents on Christmas Day.

"Hey, has this thing been appraised yet?" Mel's dad asked the Things.

Rather than listen to their reply, I looked up at the sky - or what constituted one here, I guess - and once again saw the light bulb hovering above me. Another Eureka sign, I thought glumly. And then it became very clear to me what I had to do. I didn't even think twice about it. I merely reacted.

"Well, this is just retarded," I said aloud, to nobody in particular. "I'm leaving."

With that, I started walking back into the purple as fast as I could. I finally tossed the empty condom box over my shoulder, now afraid of offending no one, and resolved to not look back in case I should turn to salt or something. This caused considerable murmuring amongst the two Things. Somewhere close behind me, Mel's dad spoke up to protest my decision.

"Wait!" he said. "Where are you going? Don't you want to get back to the Old World?"

But I didn't answer, exactly just like how he never answered or acknowledged me throughout my time with him. It's funny, now that I look back on it. He yelled my name a few times as I walked away, and mentioned something about not being able to get back without him. Still, I kept moving forward into the "wilderness" of this land - if one can apply the same terms from the Old World to the New World. I just ignored him. And what's more, he never came after me - maybe out of fear of being lost. I don't know, and I'm not sure if I care. I was so relieved to be rid of him, you see. His reluctance to come after me only made my decision to break away that much more easier. I was now, officially, dead to him, just like his wife and possibly his daughter. He obviously now had other shit to take care of, probably his own material needs. I had other fish to fry. My time was better left alone in the purple on a mission of exploration. I can't say it hasn't been uninteresting.

Leaving Mel's dad like that was a ballsy move. I wasn't sure what else I'd find in this new place, what strange creatures I might encounter upon. Whether or not I'd find proper food. Whether or not the sun would allow me to take a simple piss or, God forbid, a bowel movement. Then there was the question of how I was to get back. There was also the question of what I was walking away from. Family, friends, school ... a so-called "normal" life.

I've kept walking and wandering, though. I had my reasons when I started; I still have them. Sure, remaining here means that I have to roam the purple all by myself, while trying to avoid a multitude of potential dangers: the light bulb sun, the warring tribes of strange creatures, the mammoth Grabens (who are a particularly nasty bunch). However, I still wander around this place, following my third eye as a compass, trying to put the jigsaw puzzle pieces together, hoping one day I'll sort through this mess and figure it all out for myself: What it is that I want. What am I doing here?

I realize there's a lot that I'm leaving out in my accounts here, a lot of holes that have yet to be filled. Maybe that makes me an asshole - or maybe just a finger belonging to Mel's dad - but this seems like as good a place to abandon you as any. Sure, maybe I'm no better than Mel's dad in some respects, leaving one world in favor of another of one's own making. But I can't help but wish I'd discovered this place a hell of a lot sooner. Nobody knows how grateful for the solitude I now have, and maybe that's the greatest souvenir the New World will offer in the long run. Maybe that will be the only thing that matters in the end.

I guess we'll see, though. I guess we'll see.

Ha!

Tired and Sore

2009-07-20T20:26:00.003-04:00

I'm a bit tired and worn out from biking nearly 25 kilometers yesterday. I went out to the RealDecoy BBQ at Andrew Haydon Park near Bayshore, and it nearly killed me. My legs and behind were sore all over from biking out there, and I had trouble falling asleep last night from the pain in my legs. I had to take a couple of Motrin just to attempt to fall asleep. Needless to say, I was pretty dead tired this morning, and could have used some extra hours of shut eye.

But I did have fun at the event. I even won a $20 gift certificate to Best Buy, which is cool considering I usually never win anything in draws and raffles. It was a good, relaxing time with the coworkers, and while I can't say that I bonded even more closer with anyone, it was good to get out of the house, I guess.

I also have some cool news. My first short story in eons is about to be published in A New Spin, a Web zine put together by a high school acquaintance, DeeDee Sanderson. It's actually a piece I wrote maybe about a year and a half ago in Toronto, and has been sitting on the back burner for awhile. I got an e-mail from DeeDee today, and this is what she had to say about the story:

"I read your story, I liked it, it's kinda of twisted, as you probably know. The interesting thing is, is that the story is even better after a few days rattling in your head. (I read it a week ago). I really laughed hard at the 2nd or third paragraph. Howled."

That's probably the nicest thing I've ever heard an editor say anything about my work. Cool!

What's up with the new Blogspot design? I can't do a spell check on this post thanks to the new design. Boo. Hiss.

The National

2009-07-16T19:20:00.004-04:00

So I went and saw the National last night at Bluesfest. They were very, very good. Well worth the $60 I spent on a ticket. They only played about an hour, and didn't play "Daughters of the Soho Riots" or "All the Wine" but I was generally happy with the show. I could have listened to the lead singer's baritone all night long.

I didn't really stick around for KISS. It was too much of a zoo, and I overheard one woman say upon entering the grounds that "This is like a carnival, but for adults." It was too much of a one for me. I sort of felt like I was back in Toronto with all the crowd of people. I saw KISS take to the stage, and the music immediately felt canned. I felt a little bit ripped off as well, as, if I didn't check the Bluesfest website beforehand, I would have missed that the National got moved back to 7:45 p.m. instead of 8 p.m., to make way for an extra half-hour or so of KISS. I don't know what people see in KISS -- I didn't really recognize the first four or so songs that they played, and it just felt like a mass influx of sheepies being lead to whatever the media feeds them. Is Ottawa this starved for attention whenever a major act comes to town? I wonder.

My First Day of Work

2009-07-13T18:17:00.007-04:00

So, I'm finally home from my first day of work at Real Decoy (or RealDecoy, which I have to get used to spelling). It was a bit of an overwhelming experience, considering all the new faces and names I need to know. It was a pretty good experience, though. I spent much of the day researching case studies, which will be a new thing for me to write. I've never done them before. I've gotten a lot of help, though, from my PWAC colleagues, and the job should prove to be challenging and exciting. I'm feeling a bit wiped out at the moment from my first day on the job, granted. I guess this means no more watching The Price Is Right in the mornings. :-) I'm glad to be working again, though, and it seems like there's a lot of work for me to do over there at Real Decoy. Plus, I have a genuine respect for the people working there. So I guess we'll see how it goes in the long run, but right now I'm feeling quite content and satisfied. I can only hope the feeling lasts ... .

I had also written a bit about Broken Social Scene last night, but lost it in a version edit. Don't feel like typing it in again, so all I'll say is that the show was just OK.

Starting Work Tomorrow

2009-07-12T17:44:00.003-04:00

Well, I guess that my six-month "vacation" is about to come to an end. I start work tomorrow as a Writing Practice Lead at Real Decoy tomorrow morning, and I'm not sure how to feel about it. A little elated? Yes. A little nervous? Yes. I honestly don't know what to expect, so I guess I'll just go in there tomorrow and wing it.

I'm going to go see Broken Social Scene play Bluesfest tonight for free. I'd gladly go pay to see them, but they're playing some Bluesfest in the Byward Market kind of deal. I have "Lover's Spit" kind of stuck in my head right now. I wonder how much they'll play from You Forgot It In People, and how much new stuff they're going to play. It's been nearly five years without a new album from them, save solo projects, so it should be an interesting show.

Another Popmatters Book Review

2009-07-09T11:40:00.001-04:00

Hi all. Just a short post to let you know that I have another book review at Popmatters online. You can read it by clicking here.

The Move

2009-07-06T17:37:00.002-04:00

Sorry for not being more active here lately. I just finished moving to Ottawa, and, for the most part, things went smoothly. Nothing really new to report there, and I don't want to get into a blow-by-blow account of how things went. I'm happy to see that my cat is finally warming up to the new place. She was one stressed out kitty when we did the move, meowing all the time.

I'm under a little bit of stress, though, as Rogers has bungled my e-mail account. I've been told to wait 24 hours in order to process things, but I wonder if that's really the problem or someone screwed up on Rogers' end. I'm tempted to think it's the latter. So I'm currently without my e-mail account. Grrr.

I'm also trying to get ahold of the folks at EI by phone to get my address changed in their records. You'd think that with so many people on EI, it'd be easier to reach them by phone. But no. I keep getting that same message to try my call again later. Maybe I'll finally reach them by Thursday at this rate. It's stupid. You'd think you'd be able to do this all by the Net, but no. It's a screwed up process.

I'm hungry. Maybe I should get something to eat.

Ottawa Bound

2009-06-15T12:57:00.002-04:00

Hi all. Just a short note here to note that I'm going to be away from my desk for the remainder of this week. I'm going to be jumping a train to do a little apartment hunting in Ottawa as I'm now, officially, the Writing Practice Lead over at Real Decoy in Ottawa. I hope the apartment hunt goes well, and that I can get something for July 1 or thereabouts. I'm a wee bit excited about this, and also a little overwhelmed. I'm not looking forward to packing up my stuff and moving again, but I'm happy to have a job in Ottawa. It seems to be a big leap forward for me professionally, and I'll get to show off my writing chops in a professional setting. I guess my first order of business will be to get people in the office to read George Orwell's Politics and the English Language essay, one of my favourites. All you need to know about writing is in that 10 pager.

So it looks like I'll be down until the weekend, unless I find something in O-town, and hop on at an Internet cafe. See ya on the other side.

New Popmatters Book Review

2009-06-11T11:46:00.001-04:00

Just a short post here to let you know that my latest book review for Popmatters is up here. It was a tough one to write, but I think it turned out alright.

It Began With A Train Derailment, And It Ends With One, Too

2009-06-07T14:57:00.003-04:00

Sorry for not being around. I was up in Barry's Bay visiting my grandmother. More on that in a minute, but first ...

I was coming home on Friday, and noticed that traffic was backed up on the 401 going eastbound. It turns out that it was probably blocked because of a train derailment in Oshawa. I have to laugh a bit. When I first moved to Toronto, I experienced a train derailment (and I was travelling by train) that sent me scurrying to the GO Transit line as an emergency back-up in, wait for it, Oshawa. There's something about those tracks there I figure. I don't know whether to look at this as an omen, a foreshadowing, or not. Is my life truly that off the rails every time I contemplate a move to another city? Weird.

My grandmother is doing OK, and is now out of the hospital. She's on oxygen, though, and family is staying with her at home until she gets back on her feet. When I first visited her in the hospital, she looked so ashen and gray. I really didn't have a lot to say to her, which is about par for the course, and then she accused me of not being lively enough -- of being inside my own head too much. I was a bit offended, though I suppose I have a lot on my mind these days. She shook hands on me on my second visit, even though I had a bit of a cold and she could have gotten sick again. (I had gone to the hospital this time wearing a mask, and she ordered me to take it off. So I did.) Anyhow, it's good to see her doing well, or reasonably so. I guess time will tell how things go.

I'm now a few steps closer to moving back to Ottawa. It looks like that job is looking like it is going to pan out. That's all I'm going to say about that for now.

Not much else is new here. I went out and saw the new Disney/Pixar movie Up on Friday night and nearly blubbered like a baby through it. Maybe it was because I'd just gone through an experience with my grandmother (the movie's about an old man who realizes his dream to fly to South America via a houseful of balloons), but there's a very moving montage sequence near the start of the movie that chronicles, in about five minutes or so, a couple moving through their youth to old age. Suffice to say, I nearly lost it at that point. Such a romantic at heart, I guess. Chalk it up to a stupid Disney/Pixar movie to have me close to being reduced to a mass of blubber.

I also got a few new records on the weekend. I scored a copy of XTC's Beeswax, a collection of B-sides from 1977 to 1982 that I'd been looking for for a long time. I also got the latest compilation from The Vaselines, which is fine at three albums long, and the new Grizzly Bear which I listened to this morning and also liked very much. So all in all, it's been a bit of a productive week.

Trip Is Cancelled

2009-05-29T18:37:00.002-04:00

Well, it looks like my trip to Newfoundland is cancelled after all. We're not going, on account of my grandmother's illness. So it looks like I'll head up to Barry's Bay on Monday instead, to check in on things. I can't say that I'm not disappointed, but I completely understand. I just feel bored and listless though. I was looking forward to being out of my own skin for a week. I guess maybe next year.

Trip May Not Be Cancelled?

2009-05-28T20:07:00.002-04:00

Well, it's day to day on the Newfoundland trip front. I'll find out finally tomorrow is the trip is on or not. It appears that my grandmother is doing better, but is still in the hospital. I shouldn't sound so selfish about the Newfoundland trip -- I guess I just naturally assumed that my grandmother is the Keith Richards of grandmas and that she will ultimately pull through this one.

In fact, I'm no longer really looking forward to Newfoundland. I'm wondering if my place really is in Barry's Bay for the next few days. If my grandmother is indeed on her last legs, it would be good to see her one final time.

Cancelled Trip

2009-05-27T20:34:00.004-04:00

Well, it looks like my trip to Newfoundland next week with my parents is looking like it is cancelled. My grandmother in Barry's Bay has taken ill and it seems serious. She could even pass away, from what my mother is telling me. Naturally, I understand why the trip would be cancelled, but I can't help but feel a bit disappointed. I was looking forward to the trip, and getting out of the apartment for a week. It really sucks.

I can't believe it has been nearly a week since I boarded a train for Ottawa. Time sure flies by at times, doesn't it?

Not much new to report here. I picked up the recent debut albums by Wavves and Japandroids on vinyl. I'm not too sure if the Wavves warranted a glowing review in Pitchfork, it is a little too garage-y for my likings. But the Japandroids is great! Good to see a nice Canadian band (by way of Vancouver) making exceptional music, and only with drums and fuzzed out guitar.

Plan B (or An Interesting Thing Happened To Me In Ottawa)

2009-05-23T20:52:00.006-04:00

Writing this missive from the wilds of an Internet cafe here in Ottawa, which is sunny and beautiful. I couldn't be happier, and I'll have more on the particulars in a minute.

I rolled into town on Thursday and stopped by my friends' place, Anita and James. They were very welcoming and even had some mixed CDs that I'd made for them a number of years ago playing in the CD player. A nice touch. We had pizza for dinner and caught up on old times. Unfortunately, their son Dylan is teething, so he was a little crankier than usual. Poor guy. But, all in all, I had a good time with them.

Got to Jen Bruce's place, and we had a few drinks on the patio in nice weather and chatted for about two hours. Then I went to bed.

I woke up to a phone call from Geoff Waddington at an Ottawa company called Real Decoy, who wanted me to meet with him at 3 p.m. or so that afternoon. It was rather weird, because I wasn't expecting a call. I had e-mailed him that I'd be in town, but had gotten no response, so I naturally assumed he was busy.

After meeting with a few temp agencies and Sarah Brown at Ottawa magazine about freelancing in town, and getting the dirt there, I scooted over to Real Decoy. Geoff and I scooted to a nearby bar and had a few drinks. We caught up, and Geoff was interested in what I planed to do with my life if I moved back.

It was here that I got a bit of a shock. We were joined by fellow Real Decoy-er Richard Issac, and the pair of them offered me what they called a "Plan B".

Now I don't want to get too descriptive here, as A) I know Geoff reads this thing, B) I don't want to jinx things before they happen and C) it's probably not my place to say too much about things in a public forum. But, essentially, Geoff and Richard put a potential (and I say potential) job opportunity on the table. It wouldn't be permanent, but it would last awhile and allow me to eek out a living while I either freelance on the side or look for something a little more stable. There's a gentleman's agreement that if I do find something better that I would be able to shake hands with Geoff and Richard and leave without any hard feelings. Which is good.

So, needless to say, this is all rather preliminary and who knows what will happen. But I've been on a natural high ever since this meeting. Real Decoy is one of the companies I'd love to work for in Ottawa, and I even was in line for a job there last August (which I didn't get, as I wasn't qualified enough). I highly respect the people who work there, and really hope that if I do get the job and move back to Ottawa that I'd be able to do exceptional work for them. I want to really rock the joint and do kick ass work. Which I know I can do.

So that's all really exciting. I come to Ottawa to scope things out, and something lands in my lap. Nice!

Today was a bit more quiet. I had a two-hour coffee with the lovely Heather Ferrier, and we caught up on old times. Then I went to Jen's place and sat on the balcony for a few hours, having a few beers and generally just feeling good about myself. Tomorrow, I'll talk to Catherine Lawson of the Ottawa Citizen to see how the freelance market is there, and then I'll catch the five o'clock train home.

Things are really looking up. Hope everything works out!

Even More Ottawa

2009-05-20T17:12:00.001-04:00

Hi all. Well, tomorrow's the big day. I go to Ottawa to spend time with my friends and a few contacts. That means that this here blog will go silent for a few days. Hopefully, I'll have something new to report once I get back. Talk to you all later.

The 12:42 mile

2009-05-19T17:00:00.001-04:00

Hi all again. Just wanted to (breathlessly) tell you that I ran a mile in 12:42, thus shaving 18 seconds off my old best time. I would have done the mile in 12 minutes, too, if I didn't have to slow down at the nine-minute mark. Who knows? Maybe tomorrow I might just smash this record. Here's hoping.

Ottawa, Yet Again

2009-05-19T12:30:00.003-04:00

Well, it's two more sleeps until I make my trip to Ottawa, and I'm started to get a bit excited. Maybe a bit apprehensive, too. Will my friends be glad to see me, or will I just be treated like a nuisance? I guess we'll see.

Got some good news though. Just got a phone call from AltisSPR in Ottawa (!) about a possible contract to do Web content writing that is now on hold until, perhaps, mid-June. It might not be a big deal, but it might give me some hope that there's actually jobs for writers in Ottawa where you don't have to speak French. As always, I guess we shall see.

St. Lawrence Market Sundays IV

2009-05-17T15:43:00.002-04:00

Well, today is Sunday and you know what that means. Time for the St. Lawrence Antiques Market Sundays. This time out, though, I didn't pick up anything. I was sort of eyeing a New Order collection, but the cost was a whopping $30. I figured my money is best spent next week in Ottawa, where I plan to pick up a few slabs of vinyl from The Turning Point on Cooper Street. I want to get some Chicago stuff and Todd Rundgren that they have there. So I keep my money in my wallet today and conserved.

Not much else is new today. Just watched the Jays beat the Chicago White Sox for their third straight win. Hoping that they do as well tomorrow. Basically, I'm just waiting for Thursday to arrive, when I can go to Ottawa and see some of my old friends and hit up some of my old contacts. I've been thinking about a return to freelance journalism and I'm rather excited by the prospect. I know a lot more media in Ottawa than I do in Toronto, so it just seems to be a non-started that I might move back there and eek out a career for myself. I was even looking at some of my old clippings today and was fondly remembering some of those stories. I have to wonder if I was a better writer then than I am now. After all, being out of the game all of these years might have made me a bit rusty. I used to be good at puns and turns of phrase. If you've been reading this blog, you'll know that my writing has become more workman-like. Just the straight facts, and no hefty turns of phrase or matrix-style leads. Still, maybe I'll warm up if I get back to it. We'll have to see.

Can things hurry up and go till Thursday? Argh! I can't wait.

Ottawa, Again

2009-05-14T22:19:00.003-04:00

So it's finally a week away: my trip to Ottawa. I've already lined up many social engagements during my three day stay. I'll also be meeting up with some people who can point out how the Ottawa job market is. Should be a good trip. God knows, I've got to get out of Toronto for awhile. I'm just dying here.

Today was my last session at the gym with my personal trainer for three weeks. She's going on a vacation of her own: to Denmark and Africa. Should be an interesting trip for her. Now, the only challenge for me is being honest and going to the gym to work on my cardio. I'm trying to get the 12 minute mile on the treadmill, but all I've been able to work up lately is to the 15:40 mark on two occasions this week. It's hard getting to run at a speed of 5.0 on the treadmill. I usually crank her down to 3.0 for a few minutes rest before cranking it up again. So we'll see how it goes from here on out.

Ottawa Part Deux

2009-05-12T14:46:00.002-04:00

So I'm really excited about my looming trip to Ottawa. I called a good friend of mine up there, Jennifer Bruce, and she has agreed to provide me with shelter once I get there. It was a bit of an awkward conversation, I hadn't talked to her in about nine months, but she's a really dear friend. Helped me through a really dark time in my personal history back in early 2007. I can't repay her enough for the help.

I barely got to sleep last night, I was that excited. More excited about this than my looming Newfoundland trip. That maybe tells you something, I don't know. Anyhow, I guess I'm off to buy my train ticket to Ottawa. I'm looking forward to being up there again, seeing all of my friends again. I hope they're able to see me, and are free that weekend. I kind of wish I was going this weekend, but with the long weekend and all, I thought that maybe nobody would be around. Argh. The wait. The agony.

Ottawa?

2009-05-10T21:56:00.002-04:00

I didn't go to the St. Lawrence Antiques Market today, mainly because I'm still working my way through the past two weeks worth of vinyl hauls. I also wanted to sleep in a bit today.

I've been giving some thought to moving back to Ottawa, and will be possibly going there for a mini-vacation in a couple of weeks. Just to feel out the market. Truth is, I don't think I'm going to find work in Toronto with the way things are going. Plus, all of my friends are really in Ottawa. The one thing that is holding me back from just dropping stakes and moving back is the whole bilingualism thing, which could prohibit me from getting a job there. However, I might be happier there. There's tons of bike trails, my friends and vibrant poetry scene happening there. I might be able to go back into freelancing. I have some contacts in the media scene in Ottawa. I also just generally have more contacts there than I have here. I feel anonymous in Toronto, which was what I was looking for when I moved here initially, but I know people and businesses in Ottawa. So it's starting to make sense to move back there.

We'll see how it goes, I guess, in a couple of weeks.

Star Trek

2009-05-08T18:32:00.002-04:00

So I went and saw the new Star Trek movie this afternoon and it was awesome. I have to profess to not being a fan of the original series, or its spinoffs, but the reboot was solid for those who aren't being a fan. The special effects were great and seamless, Zachary Quinto of Heroes makes a good Spock, and all around it was just good fun. Certainly beats Wolverine last week.

Tonight I might go out to the Renaissance Cafe for their big closing bash. Their final day of operation is tomorrow, and I went to a few poetry events there in 2007 when I was just getting my feet wet in Toronto. Should be fun.

One of Those Days ...

2009-05-06T18:02:00.004-04:00

I had a bit of a crappy day today. I met with a recruiter, and, suffice to say, it didn't really go all that well, in my opinion. Since I've decided to not get too personal here, lest anyone mentioned in my posts be reading this, I'll spare the gory details.

Things then just got maybe not progressive worse, but not better. I went to the gym to do some running, and found that I just couldn't do it because I was angry at myself for the way that things had gone earlier. Then, when I was in the change room putting on one of my few pairs of nice khakis, the button that holds my pants together decided to pop off. Thank God I was wearing a belt, or else I would have been holding the front of my pants together all the way home.

I'm hopeful that things will get better, and that I'll find a job soon. Things are starting to look dicey around these parts, and I've decided that finding a job in Toronto is about as hard as trying to find a girlfriend here. Lots of little nibbles, but no concrete bites.

In an unrelated note, I might be doing a music piece for Popmatters.com about the making of Fleetwood Mac's Tusk, which celebrates its 30th anniversary this year. I have it on vinyl, and it is so opulent that the inner sleeves actually have inner sleeves. I'm sort of looking forward to writing a piece. It'll get to show off my music writing chops, and get positioned in a main section of the Web site. Should be fun.

Nothing New

2009-05-05T18:06:00.004-04:00

Sorry for not being more proactive with my blogging. Not much is new around these parts. Still unemployed. Still looking. Still banging my head against the wall. (Ouch! That hurts!)

I met with a recruiter yesterday, and he had some good advice for my resume and some glowing things to say about it. I meet with another recruiter tomorrow to talk about maybe finding work in PR. Hope it goes well. Truth be told, I'm a little nervous about this one, perhaps because she has said up front that she doubts she can place me. (She's more, from what I can understand, of an executive recruiter.)

I should have taken the afternoon off and gone to that Jays game. I think we won by a score of 10-6. Beats that drubbing we got last night. We were one strike away from winning that one. It was painful to watch.

St. Lawrence Market Sundays III and more

2009-05-03T12:20:00.003-04:00

So I went to the St. Lawrence Antiques Market again today. It was a nice day, so they had it outside the building (assuming that the Toronto Book Fair took up the interior space).

Got a lot of stuff. Pink Floyd's The Wall. Siouxie and The Banshees' Once Upon A Time (which I'm listening to as I type this). The very first Psychedelic Furs album. Some more Johnny Cash. Bruce Springsteen's first album. The Who's Tommy. And I also picked up Bob Dylan's Blonde on Blonde, but, disappointingly, I'm going to have to pitch that one. The first record has a warp in it, that I missed upon my inspection of it.

Other news: I went to the Jays game at the Rogers Center yesterday. Had a good time. The game went into extra innings so I got an extra bang for my $11. And we won. Again. How about those Jays this year?

On Friday, I went out and saw the new X-Men Origins: Wolverine movie. I was quite disappointed by it; it's maybe on par with last year's The Incredible Hulk reboot. Some of the CGI looked half-finished, particularly on Wolverine's claws in one scene in a bathroom. It just looked cartoony. Hugh Jackman does a good job, but he doesn't have much of a script to work with. I knew we might be in trouble when the first credit announced that it was taking place in Canada in 1845. Um, Canada didn't exist as a country until 1867. Obviously dumbing it down for the American audience. Either that, or someone in the script writing department didn't do their homework. And we're meant to believe that Wolverine has been around for some 160 years, but still manages to look like a buff 40-year-old guy. I know all about suspension of disbelief, but that was a little too much. And the ending is rather anti-climatic, with two extra post-credits scenes just tacked on to tie up loose ends and point in the direction of another sequel. I was not impressed. Oh well. Maybe next week's Star Trek movie will fare better.

Swine Flu Boo Hoo

2009-04-29T14:14:00.003-04:00

Am I the only one who thinks the concerns about swine flu are a bit unfounded? The Toronto Star had today a screaming headline about four cases in the GTA today. And the deal is, they're only mild cases.

I don't want to sound like I'm trivializing something that's fairly serious, in certain cases. Yes, I know people have died from this disease. Yes, I know it's a threat mainly to babies and the elderly. But doesn't the media have something better to report than every mild case that comes across the border? Cripes. They're now talking about raising the status of this to pandemic levels. I think there's a bit too much paranoia and hype surrounding this. It's only the flu, for crying out loud. They have a vaccine to combat the thing. You'd think this is another SARS or something -- now that's truly scary. The return of SARS would be cause for a pause. But not the flu. Most of those who've got it will probably recover. This is not 1918 over again, which the media would have you believe.

Bea Arthur RIP

2009-04-28T10:04:00.003-04:00

So Bea Arthur passed away on the weekend. Not really big news as in every interview I saw her in recently she looked old and frail. I wasn't a big fan of hers, not on Maude nor on The Golden Girls, but I can admit that she was talented at what she did. I think she even won a Tony.

But the strange thing is, in none of the obituaries that I've read on her passing do they mention her role in the notorious Star Wars Holiday Special. You know, that awful Star Wars thing they did for TV in 1978. Thanks to the wonders of YouTube though, you can see her performance in said special right here. She even sings! Gotta love her. At least, she was a good sport.

St. Lawrence Market Sundays II

2009-04-26T11:55:00.006-04:00

So I just came back with a real vinyl haul from the St. Lawrence Antiques Market on King at Jarvis. I must have picked up something in the order of 18 records. Some of them real finds.

For instance, I'm listening to Cat Power's Moon Pix as you read this. I never expected to find an indie rock record littered in the flotsam and jetsam of the market, but there is it. Despite not having an inner album liner, it's in pretty good shape. Some dirt and some surface noise, but I expect that I can clean that off.

I also found, like, three Johnny Cash records, including his Greatest Hits and At San Quentin, one of his notorious live records from the late '60s. Not sure how playable they will be as the live album has a small crack in it, and some chalk-like dirt that wouldn't come off.

While I didn't find The Muppet Movie soundtrack, I did find the next best thing, a compilation of favourite tracks that's a double disc set. It does have "The Rainbow Connection" and "Movin' Right Along", though I could probably do without the theme song to Muppet Babies.

I also found some records by Bruce Springsteen, The Who, Van Halen and Elton John (Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, which is probably the only half-way decent thing he did, and where my collection of his stuff will begin and end). I also picked up Rush's Exit ... Stage Left, and also found Morrisey's Viva Hate. I also found another Gordon Lightfoot Greatest Hits-like album. So I guess I've got lots to listen to this week.

Favourite Songs of the '60s on YouTube

2009-04-22T16:57:00.005-04:00

God bless YouTube. You can pretty much see anything you want, from old episodes of Read All About It! to videos by The Lonely Island. People are also posting videos of really cool songs from the '60s by videotaping their turntables going at it. It's a cool way to get to songs that have been nearly lost to the dustbin of history.

Take this video of The Innocence's "There's Got To Be A Word!" from 1966. I have the 45 rpm in question, thanks to my dad's record collection. It's pretty atypical of what my dad was listening to at the time (namely, anything having to do with The Byrds), but this was one is a gorgeous song nevertheless.

I also have the 45 of the Left Banke's "Walk Away Renee", which you can view a fanmade video of here. It's a lovely song, and, rightfully so, landed in Rolling Stone magazine's Top 500 Songs Of All Time. The follow-up, "Pretty Ballerina" is also posted as a video of a song playing on someone's turntable here.

Then, there's the Syndicate of Sound's "Little Girl" which, yep, someone has taped playing on their turntable here. I have that on 45, along with the Critters "Younger Girl" (on a related note) which you can view here.

Lots of stuff on that YouTube.

Grunge Is Dead: Popmatters Review

2009-04-22T11:58:00.002-04:00

So my review of Grunge Is Dead went live today on Popmatters.com. You can read it by clicking here. It was a bit of a tough book to review, as it is an oral history, meaning that the book is made up of nothing but quotes from various hangers-on in the music scene. I'm pretty happy with the result, though, and think it is one of the better book reviews that I've turned in. I gave it a 7 out of 10. Overall, a pretty good read, though I've since given up the book for my parent's next yard sale when I did my spring cleaning.

Not much else is new here. Picked up two Robert Pollard albums on vinyl. Will let you know what I think of them, perhaps, in a future post.

5 - 10 - 15 - 20 - 25 - 30

2009-04-19T19:57:00.015-04:00

Pitchfork Media is running a reoccurring feature called 5 - 10 - 15 - 20, in which they ask their favourite indie artists to talk about their favourite records at the ages of 5, 10, 15, 20 and so on. I figured I'd get on top of the meme, and contribute my own formative soundtrack to my early years.

5 - "Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini"

My aunt, whom I assume reads this blog, had a K-Tel record called Goofy Greats, in which this song figured prominently. I don't know who sung it, as I'm too lazy to go into my closet to look it up. (I now own the record.) But I assume I must have nearly worn out the grooves of this album playing it. I recall sitting out on the back porch of my grandparent's house in Barry's Bay when I was about 5, playing the song non-stop. I think my grandma asked me to quit playing it so often. Nothing like a song about a girl afraid to go into the water to stir the heart and imagination as a young child.

There are some notable runners-up. There's the aforementioned (on this blog, anyhow) Muppet Movie Soundtrack, which I wore out the grooves of. I was big into movie soundtracks at this time, as I had the soundtrack to the Jungle Book and somehow managed to punch a hole in the middle of the record. I forget how it happened, but I figured it happened when I was playing it at one of my birthday parties. Then, there was something called Mickey Mouse Disco, which I recall really liking because none of the songs sounded like kiddie songs -- instead, it had the "adult" feel of a disco record. (I haven't been able to find it in the stack of records my parents most recently gave me.) I was also into "Red Rubber Ball" by the Cyrkle. That was another favourite of mine from those years. I was pleasantly surprised to find the 45 rpm that my dad had, and it is remarkably scratch-free. "25 or 6 to 4" by Chicago figures in there somehow, as we had both the 45 and a concert band recording of the song on a long-player put out by my high school circa 1975.

10 - Hunting High and Low by a-ha

I was big into trashy Euro-pop when I was about 10 or so. I was really big into "Take On Me" and, particularly, the video when I was this age. I thought it was, like, the coolest thing I'd ever seen. I recall being into the follow-up album even more, that'd be Scoundrel Days, despite some silly songs being on there, like "We're Looking For The Whales". But that came a bit later, probably when I was about 12 or so.

Honourable mentions would have to go to the Ghostbusters soundtrack, which was the first thing I owned on cassette tape, along with Tears For Fears' Songs From The Big Chair (which I now own on vinyl).

15 - A Farewell To Kings by Rush

When I was in my mid-teens, I voraciously ate up everything by Canadian power trio Rush. I recall getting Chronicles on tape from the public library and just having my world blown open. A Farewell was the very first CD that I owned, which I purged myself when I was about 22 or so when I thought I was too cool for Rush, and I rabidly started to own every Rush album that I could get my hands on. For a time, there was nothing more that I owned but Rush CDs. Farewell still is my sentimental favourite, and to this day think that "Cygnus X-1" still rocks, and remember being profoundly being disappointed by the sequel, a side-long epic on Hemispheres, the follow-up. Strangely enough, I had been previously introduced to "Subdivisions" on a K-Tel cassette compilation called Rock '83, but thought nothing of it at the time. I guess I needed a few years for the high-school angst of Rush to grow on me.

I was pretty big into Wang Chung at this time too. I think I wore out my cassette copy of The Warmer Side of Cool, a lost classic I'm hoping to find on vinyl.

20 - Warehouse: Songs and Stories by Husker Du

When I was in my late teens, I got into hardcore punk in a pretty big way. I was all over the grunge scene in Seattle, and linked the linage back to this group from Minneapolis. Warehouse doesn't get much love these days, even though it got a five-star review in Rolling Stone at the time. But it is still among my very favourite albums of all time. It is one of my desert island discs, for sure. I recall listening to this in the tourist booth that I used to work in back in the day almost non-stop. I was blown away by the bombast and the tenderness of the album, and the fact that it didn't sound like anything I'd ever heard before. "No Reservations", "She Floated Away", "Turn It Around", "It's Not Peculiar", and on it goes. The whole record, a double, has a natural progression to it. It is one of the few records out there that actually has a climax.

I also call this record the Rosetta Stone of pop music, because it's all there: power-pop, punk, psychedelia, and on it goes. I once got rid of the CD when I was going through a tough time a few years ago, because it was just so emotionally raw. I wisely bought it back a year ago, and whenever I go on vacation somewhere, this is the disc I usually bring with me as a traveling companion.

I was disappointed when I saw ex-band leader Bob Mould last year live in that he never played any songs off this record, but otherwise touched on much of his back catalogue. I think I still have a CD-R somewhere of a 1987 Huskers show where they played the entire album start to finish live.

25 - Bee Thousand by Guided by Voices

I don't know what to say about Bee Thousand by GbV that hasn't been said before. This is simply a low-fi pop masterpiece that, sure, has its share of filler, but the filler is actually there to bolster the incredible songs (and make them better) that are "Smothered In Hugs", "Echos Myron", "Tracker Rape Chain", etc. etc. Band leader Robert Pollard had a profound effect on my writing at the time; I just marvelled at the way that the guy could knock off classic songs in the space of time that it takes most people to eat dinner. We all know what became of Pollard: a little bit too self-indulgent for his own good, he now releases records at a rate of nearly a bajillion a year. (Seriously.) But this album was the pure distillation of his talents. Alien Lanes is nearly as good, but I didn't get into that one until I was closer to 30.

As a side note, I think it was just after this time that I got into alt-country in a pretty big way. Wilco, Son Volt, Uncle Tupelo, and Sparklehorse (along with Golden Smog) were getting plays on my CD player just shortly after this time. Nothing much more to say about that except it's strange I didn't get into Gram Parsons until much more recently.

How could I also forget that I got into Steely Dan at this point in my life. I used to be a big fan of Aja, but these days I'm more of a Katy Lied kind of guy. I love the Dan, for their weird lyrics and smooth '70s rock stylings. I wish contemporary radio would play something other than "Do It Again" or "Reeling In The Years" because they have an impressive back catalogue that goes beyond those hits. Not too fond of their newer stuff, but it's good to see them working and touring again. I wish I'd still been in Ottawa to see them play BluesFest last year.

30 - Something/Anything? by Todd Rundgren

This one is another desert island disc for me. I got into Rundgren in a big way when I heard "It Wouldn't Have Made Any Difference" from this record on the soundtrack to Almost Famous. (There's those soundtrack albums again.) Naturally, I have since hunted down nearly everything the guy has put on vinyl, even the self-indulgent messes that made up part of early Utopia. I just love this record. There is hardly a bad track to be found, and it's a double album. The guy played nearly every instrument and sang on it too, except for the band concept stuff that he did on Side 4. It really is a power-pop classic, and one that I find myself taking off the shelf often as I slide out of my Christ year. It has really stood the test of time. There's even a song about my mom on it: "Marlene". A true power-pop gem. What more can I say?

As a final side-note, I picked up the jewel of my vinyl collection around this time: Radio City by Big Star. It's a mint condition record from the original pressing that came out back in 1972. It set me back about $30. I play this one often too. A friend of mine dubbed it the premier example of a genre known as "cottage rock". I have to agree. It's just solid from start to finish. I guess you can say that between Big Star and Rundgren, I was big into power pop at this time of my life.

St. Lawrence Market Sundays

2009-04-19T11:55:00.003-04:00

A bit of a ritual for me is going to the St. Lawrence Antiques Market on Sunday mornings to get my vinyl fixings. This morning was no different, and I came back with three slabs of vinyl (well, four, because one of them was a double), that cost me a measly 14 bucks.

First up, and what I'm listening to right now, is Gordon Lightfoot's Gord's Gold. There were a few Lightfoot albums in the pile of vinyl that my parents brought up, and the album I got today is notable for having re-recordings of songs that Gord thought weren't up to snuff in the mid-'70s. I also picked up The Best of Blondie, which I had on vinyl once upon a time, but it had a skip in it, so I threw it out. I also picked up Chicago's 16, which is from their somewhat dismal '80s period when they were being produced by David "King of Sap" Foster, but I'm a bit of a completist, I guess. I love their older stuff. "25 or 6 to 4" was one of my favourite songs growing up, and I must have worn out the grooves on the 45 rpm record that my parents had (which has been bequeathed to me, but I have yet to listen to it.)

I'm going to watch the Jays game later this afternoon, and I'm happy to see them up 9-4 in the standings. Maybe they will have a good run this year at the championships if they can keep this up, and win the rubber match against the A's this afternoon. I should really buy a ticket to one of the games soon, as they're pretty cheap in the cheap seats. ($7 I think.) After that, I guess I will be hitting the gym for some running on the treadmill. Pretty quiet evening after that.

I'm a little aprehensive about tomorrow. I'm going to call up the MSN lady either tomorrow or Tuesday (to give her some bearings after being on vacation a week). Truth be told, I'm not sure if I made a good first impression, as I first of all indicated that I was interested in an editing job, as that kind of job is a full-time permenant gig, unlike the writing gigs, which seem to be all freelance. Hopefully, I'll be able to win her over.

How I Spent My Friday Afternoon

2009-04-17T17:04:00.002-04:00

So I finally gave in and bought myself a copy of the new Bob Barker memoir, Priceless Memories. It cost me a measly $12.04 after I cashed in all of my Shoppers Drug Mart Optimum points. Can say that it was one of my better purchases recently. I spent the whole afternoon reading it from cover to cover. It took me about three and a half hours to do so. It's kind of a short book.

I have to say that I have more respect for the guy since reading the book. The best bits of the book didn't even have to do with his hosting The Price Is Right, or Truth or Consequences. I didn't know this until I read the book, but he was involved with the Air Force during World War II, and he grew up on an Indian reservation. Of course, he also goes into great detail about his love for animals and his work in that regard. Fascinating read.

I've also rented The Spirit and the remake of The Day The Earth Stood Still. Probably won't get around to either of them until tomorrow, as I have Wheel of Jeopardy! (as I like to call them) tonight, and then there's the hockey game on. At least, it'll give me something to do on the weekend.

The Price Is Right

2009-04-16T13:35:00.005-04:00

So Bob Barker showed up on national television to shill his new book, Priceless Memories, which is available for sale at my local Shoppers Drug Mart. (I might just pick it up. It's 25 % off.) Time has not been kind to the guy, that's for sure. His left lip wasn't moving, as though he just had a stroke of some sort. He was totally sucking up to Drew Carey on The Price Is Right today, too, during the Showcase section, which is where he was shilling the book. He kind of crept up behind Drew at one point, to offer up a prize that was offered in the Showcase. Time is sure catching up to the guy, who has to be somewhere around 85. It was probably a good thing that he retired when he did.

In other news, I might be tapped for a freelance IA project, courtesy of an old colleague of mine. Things are starting to look up. I applied for a Communications Coordinator job, and someone at Sears has contacted me about IA jobs that are available. I'm not sure about the IA work, as noted before, but it beats doing nothing.

Going to go to the gym to train today. Not sure if I'm looking forward to it, as I'm feeling a bit bushed today. Looking forward to tonight, though, as both the Jays baseball game and hockey game will be on. I've taken to watching sporting events lately, even though I can't play worth a hoot. I'm glad to see the Jays doing as well as they are. Let's hope they can keep the momentum going for the rest of the season.

Another Post

2009-04-15T17:19:00.002-04:00

I was going to post a humourous article about who Lindsay Lohan could date now that she's single and making the rounds in an Internet video personal ad. (It's a joke, I think, backed by Comedy Central.) I decided not to, mainly because I was lazy and mainly because I didn't really want this blog to become a repository for cheap gags. So, sorry folks. Maybe next time.

I'm a bit excited over here as it turns out that Bob Barker will be making an appearance on tomorrow's The Price Is Right. Ostensibly to promote his new memoir of his years on the show. It should be a hoot. I'm looking forward to it.

In other news, I twisted my left foot today. It hurts a bit when I go to walk on it. It made working out at the gym today a little interesting.

I'm listening to Close Up the Honky Tonks by The Flying Burrito Bros on vinyl right now. It's an out-of-print album that contains a number of unreleased tracks that have since not seen the light of day. I'm surprised at how good condition it's in -- surprising since it is another album poached from my parents record collection -- so I guess I just wasn't into country as a kid, which meant that I wasn't around to scratch this record up, I guess.

Not much else is new. Pretty lazy day for me. That's the way it's been going lately.

Smurfing Sing Song and Other Stuff

2009-04-15T10:08:00.007-04:00

One of the records in my recently acquired collection is an old Smurfs record dating back to at least 1979 or 1980 entitled Smurfing Sing Song. This was before the Smurfs found fame as a TV cartoon in the 1980s, and, boy, is my vinyl of the album ever scratched up. It's barely playable.

However, thanks to the wonder and the mysteries of the Internet, I was able to track down a digital download of the album here. Boy, I have to say that listening to it (I've been only able to tolerate about two songs off of it) sure makes my teeth hurt. I can only wonder about my taste in music as a kid, because, boy, was it sure crappy. There's even a reference in one of the songs to Smurf beer. That's right. Beer. Those Smurfs sure were drunken alcoholics before they went into rehab and came out as a cartoon for kids. I have to wonder if the creators were targeting adults with the reference. Who knows?

The Price Is Wrong

2009-04-14T08:07:00.004-04:00

Since I'm unemployed these days, I get to spend a lot of time with my TV. I usually spend my mornings engaged with The Price Is Right, which is a little bit annoying considering all of the advertisments during the show for a career college that OMNI 2 shows that I'll never attend.

I have to say that I misss Bob Barker a little bit. No more sexual harrassment suits. No charm and charisma. New host Drew Carey is a bit of a wet towel compared to Barker. He certainly lacks emotion, and I don't really like it when he gets the constestants to go Alacazam and ask them to say hi to their friends and family on the Showcase Showdown part of the show. It's a little cheesy.

What irks me is this clip of Drew Carey not getting excited during the Showcase section when a contestant got a price right on the nose. C'mon. The guy bid the exact price. Show some enthusiasm. This was probably one of the greatest moments in game show history.

Still, I'll keep watching Price. I've got nothing better to do with my time, for one. It's become a bit of a ritual for me. God knows what will happen if I ever get a real job again and have to go to work at that time just like any regular Joe.

Lazy Sunday

2009-04-12T11:17:00.003-04:00

So, not much new to report here. Doing my laundry and listening to an old Linda Ronstadt record that my dad brought up. My mom left some treats for me in the top drawer of my dresser: a vanilla bunny (which made my teeth hurt), some Easter eggs, and some treats for my cat Dot, which she eagerly ate up. (It's good that she liked them, as Dot can be a bit of a fussy eater.)

I went out and bought the newly re-released Red Red Meat album from 1995, Bunny Gets Paid, along with a Red House Painters album that was used, Songs for a Blue Guitar. I like both, and have nothing of import to say about either of them than that, aside from maybe I had a hankering for the colour red yesterday.

I might head out to the gym later on today. My training sessions are going to be lopped in half starting tomorrow, so I'm kind of interested to see how that goes. I'm also hoping to call up a contact for Microsoft Canada and see if I can do some entertainment reporting work for them on a freelance basis. All in all, it might ship up to be a busy week.

I've got to take the record off now and go rescue my clothes. I think in celebration of Easter, I might just put on Patti Smith's Easter record.

Old Records

2009-04-11T14:23:00.002-04:00

So my parents came up to my place for the Easter weekend. We had a good time, and did some spring cleaning. Got rid of some old books (and new) that were festering on my bookshelf. But the really cool thing about the weekend is that my dad bequeathed his vinyl record to me, which included some of my old records that I had as a child. Two milk cartons worth of records.

Some of them were in pretty bad shape, like the Muppet Movie Soundtrack that I played the heck out of when I was a kid. (I've love to find a mint copy of that. eBay, maybe?) But some of them were in great condition. My copy of the Rescuers Soundtrack was in nearly mint condition. Strange, considering that I must have played the heck out of it as a child. That was the jewel of the collection, something I got with a Radio Shack gift certificate that I won for submitting a question to the local science teacher who had his own column in the local community newspaper. I treasure it quite strongly.

I just finished playing something called Yankee Doodle Mickey, which is about as patriotic and America a record for kids that you can get. Strangely, the back cover of the record lists one of the child back-up singers as being Molly Ringwald. (!) Could it be that Molly Ringwald, of Sixteen Candles and Pretty in Pink fame? Dunno, but if so, she sure sounds young. Now, that's a find. (Note: Wikipedia does confirm it's her on the recording.)

Also sprinkled in the collection was some old Byrds stuff, which was pretty scratched up and in beat-up condition, which is a given considering the records are about 40 years old now. But there was some cool Gram Parsons stuff in the mix, which was a great find. All sorts of stuff. My mom even had a record by Elvis Presley called Moody Blue, which is apparently rare because it was pressed on black vinyl, when most of the records that came out were on blue vinyl. Supposedly.

All in all, I'm happy to have my parents and my old records finally back in my grubby little hands. You'll have to excuse me now. I'm off to put on some Bruce Cockburn. Or maybe some Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young.

Welcome to my first post

2009-04-11T12:23:00.001-04:00

Hi all:

Here is my very first post of my new blog, where I will muse about things from music to TV to video games and just life in general. Hope you like it.