I don't like Bridgehead. I really don't. I know that everything good and right within me tells me that I should go there but I continually have layers of bad experiences when I buy coffee there. My wife loves it (and it's not like I hate the mission that they have as I'm speaking about one store in particular) but as much as I can help it, I will no longer go to Bridgehead.
Here are a few key contributors to my dilemma:
1. The smell - there is something about the aroma of the store that is unlike any other coffee shop that I enter and it almost makes me vomitous. It's like a deep, penetrating scent that smells like espresso that was shat out of an old man.
2. The service - Sure - okay. The staff are friendly but they don't care about 'doing business' (which is part of their main manifesto) so they end up hiring hip, non-chalant types who call you 'bud' instead of 'sir'. (Please don't call me 'bud'! I don't know you!) The lack of business etiquette also allows them to take their time getting orders ready (like today when pouring 4 coffees out of giant vats for the customer ahead of me took 7 minutes. I'm not kidding) and to sort of stare at you when you ask a question (like today when I asked for more cream because the dispenser wasn't working but as I fixed it on my own, and said 'I think it's working now', the young girl behind the counter said 'Oh! Okay!' and smiled. It might have been ideal for her to come and check the dispenser so as to not have to deal with that every time someone pours cream - just a thought.)
3. The Coffee Temperature - Their coffee goes colder quicker than any other coffee I drink. I don't know what it is that they do to the water or the beans but for a place that claims to be 'all about renewable resources', I don't how renewable it is to have customers dumping out half of every coffee because it goes luke too fast.
4. The fog - I have been to many different types of coffee joints. I have a friend that works at Starbucks, another friend who works at Second Cup and another friend who worked at Planet Coffee in The Market. At none of these places have my glasses ever steamed up so much and so quickly than they have at any given Bridgehead. Granted - any place with steam machines on a cold day will give a bit of lens-fog but at Bridgehead, it's like an instant cloud that covers my lenses. This wouldn't be that bad but they have new coffee names every damn day and I only like certain ones...so how the HELL am I supposed to see what I'm ordering?
Anyways. Enough about Bridgehead. I'm done. Sure - I'll get the odd Hazelnut Latte for Sarah at the one near my house but my main pet peeve is this:
Everyone in Ottawa raves about it so why would they ever change or listen to my concerns? There are a million other places I can go. So I will.
I was also thinking about laughter today. I used to think that only laughter about certain issues was a good thing...but really, when your body laughs, endorphins are released into your bloodstream and there is so much natural good happening in your body. Even if one's sense of humour is super-warped and twisted - is it really bad to laugh? It's a natural response. It's not like you can help it. Sometimes, it sneaks up on you and what is funny or chuckle-able to you is totally serious to someone else. It's almost a higher power.
When people laugh (and I mean really laugh), every wall comes down and they are exposed to the enth degree. There is an uncontrollable force being emitted from their bodies that shows the utter enjoyment of a moment.
I think any type of laughter is a holy thing and that we need to seek things out that will make us laugh.
Electrocuted By A Fence and Attacked By A Cow I just had lunch with this guy. What a nutbar! Xander is one of those guys who gives you a constant stream of consciousness as opposed to the usual get-to-know-ya chit chat. He's pretty hilarious and very intellectual. Luckily, I've been able to get to know him a on a bit of a deeper level this year as we both work part time for Ecclesiax Church. He told me a funny story today about being attacked by a cow and getting repeatedly zapped by an electric fence while trying to get away from charging cows (in the darkness of night). I won't say where this happened so as not to incriminate poor Xander or any of his electrocuted cronies.
God bless his little heart.
It hasn't stopped snowing since I left for work this morning. I feel a bit of a winter malaise. My sickness/ head mucus has been drained out (for the most part) but now I sort of feel helpless to the drone of winter. It continues to beckon. Window ledges fill with cold, white fluff. I long for patio season...but there's a long, long way to go before that gets here.
In the distance, a church bell chimes. An old man stumbles as he searches for the curb of a snow-lacquered sidewalk. Snow falls lazily beyond the frosted glass of my window. I can hear a metal band recording some sort of loud vocal track in the basement. My calculator is broken. My sides are constantly itchy due to scaly winter-skin dryness.
Rap Music What happened to this medium of music? Yes - at one point in my life, I was a rapper. Okay? Do I have to answer that question forever? But seriously - rap music used to be a medium that voiced the ills of the world, the wrongs of society and the death of caged-in musical stylistics. Now, it's a whore of a thing.
Some of my housemates (the homies that live 2 floors up) recorded some of their own rap recently and it's so horrible that every time I hear it, I want to release a full length album of rap music and let them know what it was really all about back in the day: 1. The problems facing our world 2. Dissing other rappers 3. Using the power of words to overcome
Some people say that Snoop and others found a free form of sexual expression in rap music and put it on display. I'm calling bullshit. In fact, there are so many rappers now (my housemates included) who can't even rap on BEAT! That used to be the whole POINT! To be able to rap rhythmically and poignantly was what that art form stood for...
It's trashed. There are many who have tried to steer it back on course...but there are so many more who continue to veer it off course.
The Voice Of The Village I've been thinking a lot about community in the past day or two and what that over-used buzz word really means. What do my immediate surroundings require of me? How can I best impact my immediate surroundings with both positive and creative force? I'll put that on hold for a minute.
The above picture is an overhead shot of The Glebe area in Ottawa (which is where I spend 20 hours a week and also a few minutes walk from where I live in Centretown). It is a special area for me as it is where I spent many hours, evenings and weekends growing up as my Grandma Betty and Grandpa D.F. inhabited a house in the Glebe. When I was younger, I always saw it as a bit of a safehaven - a refuge. Growing older, though, I saw that the area seemed to be filled with more of a prosperity vibe and was mainly inhabited by younger couples with young children, doctors, lawyers and general upper-class types. Does that mean this area is a write-off because there are very few homeless people around? Definitely not.
I've been sort of smuggled into different wavelengths of a Christ-based belief system that is largely based on a few key elements: a. the importance of growing together with others b. making an impact where you live and not in some foreign, sunny country that I know little about c. showing Jesus to others in the way that I act as opposed to the way that I talk (due to the meaningless nature of words) d. being supportive and receptive to others, no matter what they believe or understand and walking alongside of others in life. This new blog represents something I've been passionate about and involved within for a while, now. Somedays, I love it. Other days, it annoys me and I wish it could be different. Most of the time, I think it's going somewhere but I don't know where. I think in order to really 'do' community, everyone involved has a massive requirement to grow up and get beyond their general beefs and shit with certain people. Community often starts organically but then turns into 'Oh - I don't want to be there if THIS person is there' and so on. Our childish and territorial human minds lead us from where we should be. Maybe we have too many choices as North Americans and the choices overwhelm us - whereas, in remote villages of the Amazon, you live, sleep, eat and die with your community. That's just the way it is.
A community can look like a lot of things and can be many different shapes and colours. One thing that I don't think it can be, however, is half-assed. Community needs commitment in order to go anywhere. It lives and dies in the ability of those within the community to say 'I am going to make this work. I am going to step in the bucket and make a choice to really try this out for a designated period of time'.
I just want to make the most of whatever time I have on this giant ball of mud, grass, snow and water.
I'm Sick Of These Dolphins... Steve Zissou makes yet another guest appearance on my blog. Today, I'm just sort of fed up. I'm sick of everything. I'm sick of blogging. I'm sick of feeling like there is a medicine ball inside my head made up of phlegm and disaster. Out with it!
I want to lodge my head into a vat of steam. I may even try eating a clove of garlic. The x-factor about all of this that is extra flummoxing is that I never get sick. It's really annoying to feel normal. And yet, my sickness is so small compared to some of the great ills of this world and at least I live in a country where I can have access to a number of drugs that will speed up my immune system. Still, though - I complain. Complaining is easy.
Does complaining have its root within people who have an overabundance and are never happy? Who lodged the first legal complaint? Why do we whine so much as humans? I'm sick of myself. Shut up!
We'll see if I live to survive the weekend upcoming. I'm heading to Montreal for a Graven practice and to hopefully connect with some old friends. First, though, I have to work all day today and then tonight at the bar and again friday night. Awesome. Complain.
Oh Yeah...And This Guy Got In! As somewhat of an addendum to yesterday's post, I wanted to relieve the blogging world of bloated references (for one day) to President Barrack Hussein Obama and save any political commentary for today. First, though, before jumping off the deep end of any lectionaries or essays, I think it is important to answer a few questions...even if only for my own peace of mind.
Do I think he's being made into a knight in shining armour? Most definitely. I guess, though, that view is only a negative one if he never slays any dragons. Here's hoping his sword is sharp and that his shield is worthy.
Do I think he will truly be an agent of change? I'd like to think so but as we all know, the crooked world of politics has many facets and many illusions. Many have bucked for change and many (oh, so many) have failed.
What does Obama's U.S. presidency mean to me as a Canadian? To be honest, most Canadian citizens are more involved with the American political world than the Canadian one for a few obvious reasons: 1. It's like watching a massive religion of hysteria and speaking in tongues when you are used to a quiet country church with a white picket fence around it. 2. The American political game is more fun to watch than our own. 3. Stephen Harper is made of wood. Let's be honest, here. 4. I know Obama could give many NBA players a serious run for their money on the basketball court (Have you ever seen footage of him playing? Unreal).
One thing is for sure, though - as far as spreading hope in the hearts and minds of many, Obama has already won in that department. I haven't seen an event where so many were inspired and hopeful (at a massive throng where millions were gathered) in a long, long time. That's got to be worth something. Right?
Soul Junk Sometimes we all need a day or two to clean out the pipes, put 'er into neutral and just chill the feck out. Whether it's a cycle of eating too much meat (guilty), staying up too late or drinking too much beer, it is important to break away and cleanse from time to time. I think it's in those moments that we see the clearest as the storm has subsided and a new day is coming. I used to have this spot I would go to at Camp IAWAH where I could think clearly and connect with the Good Maker. Sometimes I needed to shut up and listen but other times, I needed to vent and get things out. When I was inhabiting that place, though, that's all I would do.
I cleansed.
No video games. No internet. No cell phone. No bank account. No shopping malls. No coffee shops. No debt consolidation. No car payment. No traffic.
It was me and Pure nature in its truest form and essence.
It's the start of a new week and hopefully the dawn of a new outlook. Sometimes, I don't do so well at being an adult. Sometimes I just want to be a kid. Reality, though, is much like Morgan Freeman's depiction of of geology in Shawshank; 'a study of time and pressure'. Time and pressure continue to build in every waking hour and I am one step closer to the end of my life in each breath I draw. When it's all said and done, will I have made even a slight difference? Will I make it count? Will people have seen Good in me? In the way I loved my wife? In the way I connected with friends?
In walking from Starbucks to the office this morning, I decided to keep my gloves in my pocket. Within 30 seconds of being exposed to the frosty temperatures, my hands began to tingle and feel as if they were made of rock. I could barely hold my coffee.
And yet, as much as we whine about the weather, it could always be worse. Apparently, in Sault Ste Marie, the mercury has been dipping down into -40 territory. Good gravy. What do people do? Wear 7 pairs of pants at once?
Some days just clog you right up like a brick of cheese.
I hope to have something pretty inspirational tomorrow.
A Word From The Baltimore Doctor (This counts because I started it at 6 pm) (A Post Written From The Imagined Mind Of A Friend)
So I'm here in Baltimore...and the more crash victims and burnouts I see only makes me realize two things:
1. I should have brought my guitar
2. I question the realm in which I chose to live my life.
I once saw this kid, back in Toronto, throwing pitches at a nearby baseball diamond. The kid was 14. Every time he threw the ball, you'd think it was a propeller and not a human arm. I mean, this kid had power. There was something weird about his throwing motion, though...like a slight click, or a pop, at the end of the pitch release. He seemed fine but there was something a little off. The more I watched him pitch and the closer I came to this diamond, I realized that the reason why this kid was throwing with such thunder and force...was because the growth plate in his elbow had never properly fused. It's a medical anamoly. It happens all the time. Kids are put into little league at a young age. His elbow was not properly connected, allowing his arm to act like a catapult when he threw a baseball.
The other day, here in Baltimore, I felt kinda sick. My staff supervisor blamed a problem on me that was not my fault. Maybe it was the copious amounts of dark beer and whiskey in my system from the night before but I let him have it. I stood with my arms crossed and refused to talk to 'an imbecilic jerk who wouldn't let me get a word in, edge-wise'.
A lady who lives two floors down from me, in the same building, got shot in the leg yesterday. I saw her pass by me in a stretcher as I was on my to assist with another surgery. Our eyes connected. I looked away.
I've been here for months. I've been working my ass off. The longest stretch of time I've had to myself was 36 hours. 36 hours, man. You don't know whether to laugh or cry. In that 36 hours, a friend came by and we closed out a local watering hole and saw a hundred more. I don't care about blood. Some doctors smoke - I drink. Everyone has a vice. Everyone has a breaking point.
Sometimes, our septic is full but we think it's a different problem. We try to flush...but it WILL NOT go down.
I miss the sushi bar I frequent (with my lady) where the owners give us a free bottle of asian wine. The recession has affected all of us.
Jim Bryson is an unsung hero of this age. If I could play more of his stuff to depressed patients, I would.
I hope I get out of Baltimore alive. Thank God for friends and blogs and mental vacations.
Blitzen Trapper and Modern Music Maybe it's because I'm sort of associated with Portland, Oregon (in some weird, distant way) but I am starting to appreciate this band more and more. If you've never dabbled into their catalogue, I suggest a long, hard listen to 'Field Rexx'.
The guy in the green shirt in this picture looks a heck of a lot like my cousin, Ben. Weird.
I've been thinking a lot about music and to be honest, I don't like the thoughts I have. I'm going through a circular phase where I visit record stores and (with gift certificates in hand) and can't find a lick of anything that I want. The music marketplace is a sick and perverse beast. Most thriving artists are switching to more of a grassroots, community- oriented type of record label.
Even Blitzen Trapper (and other bands like them), although they are good, are coming out with a sound that's mainly been done before. It's a sort of Simon-and-Garfunkel-ish acoustic-based, jangly hippie rock that seems like it's been slammed on a wash-board on a cabin porch in the woods of Arkansas. I like it - but I yearn for originality.
Bands like Wilco have shown that radio hits are okay as long as your catalogue runs deep into the wilds of experimentation and genre-crossing.
Music is a fickle mistress. Those who experience success within its realm often only experience it for a short time and then fade into anonymity. Some people would argue that there are keys to solidifying a spot in music history. I would largely disagree as pop music tends to be a lot like fashion; rooted in personal preference and taste.
What is taste or preference based on from one day to the next? Many factors are at play, here. There's nothing solid about it. It's like serving drinks at the bar. The vast majority of drinkers don't come in knowing what they want UNTIL they see someone else with a caesar that is salt-rimmed with a fresh chunk of cucumber. At that moment, they say 'I want THAT!'
Maybe there's a bigger question here. What dictates trends? Where do they originate? Why does most music suck?
Blue Box, Black Box Sometimes I wonder what we do when we actually recycle. I know there are studies and plants and environmental-friendly systematics that tell us it's a good thing...but is it really? Where the heck is all of this non-perishable stuff going?
I picture an old man, smoking a corn cob pipe, who is sitting atop of a gigantic heap of recycling somewhere...probably in Southern Vermont. He is obsessed with plastics, newspapers, glass bottles and the metal lining in chip bags. His family forgot about him long ago. He sits atop his heap and he chuckles at the world: 'HA! Recycling' he says, as he takes a puff from the pipe. 'What a sham. Thank you Al Gore. Thank you tree-huggers. Thank you green party. Because of you, I can sit up here and view the world from my mountain of junk.'
Moral of the story: Let's keep recycling. The man from Vermont never has enough.
Today was a good day. This morning I was lying down next to my lovely roomie, Owen the Cuddly, and some things just didn't seem the same. I remembered the night before and the delicious taste of the taco I had eaten amongst friends in a mexicana restraunt just several blocks from our house; however, I no longer longed for taco. I longed for a nice juicy foot-long sausage - something I could just put between two white buns and enjoy, from my friendly neighbour hood vender: Sanchez. I couldn't help but notice his friendliness the other day while he squirted a collection of his favorite condiments inbetween two hot fresh buns. There was something in his smile that made me tingle from my head to my toes. Sometimes the smile of a stranger is warmer than a fire - a fire on the coldest of days.
What does this mean, this feeling of freedom? This feeling is new to me. I intend on seeking the core of this feeling which has been erected deep inside of me. Like a ground hog peaking its head out of a hole after a long harsh hibernation, this feeling is good. I think that something we need to all remember is to keep looking for those new experiences that thrill us and keep us young, flexible, and vulnerable. These kinds of things stretch us out, and make us bigger and better people. Let's face it; L-Dog is gay.
Ever changing, Landon (blogging on behalf of Matt who asked me to blog for him at work. I am SO gay!).
10. Death Cab For Cutie - Narrow Stairs They're Death Cab For Friggin' Cutie, okay? They had to sneak in there. Honestly, I think I fell in love with the bright, melodic riffs and hooks of this well-produced album in the first few months after it was released. Since then, though, I've found myself becoming more un-stunned by its plain nature. If I wrote this list back in May, though, this album would have made number one. There's something that becomes a little 'ho-hum' about this work the more it rotates in my stereo. But still - come on - they made the cut. They're Death Cab For FREAKING Cutie. Who releases an 8 minute song as their first single? I'll tell you who - Death Cab For FU*KING CUTIE!
9. Mark Knopfler & Emmy Lou Harris - All The Roadrunning I've had a bit of a 'thing' for Mark Knopfler for some time, now. I have always had a deep respect for his style of guitar-ism when he was with Dire Straits and although this was a choice of my wife's when she was cruising through some new releases, this album deserves a little street cred. Emmy Lou sings her blessed little heart out and Mark rasps along beside her and plucks away at his tempered, steely guitar sound. This album is a little short on depth but long on listening pleasure. It is served best on a highway (preferrably an interstate) with long stretches of flat, prairie land. 8. Sigur Ros -Meo Suo I Eyrum Vio Spilum Endalaust Despite some hilarious personal references to album art on the cover and the fact that this album came out in the summer (ahem), Sigur Ros (though they intimidate the heck out of me with their weird, non-existent Icelandic dialogue) continues to do what they do best. They build soundscapes and life theme-songs that are unparallel with any other artist of today (save for maybe Radiohead). My wife bought this album and although I have only heard its full spool-through a few times, it is a conceptually beautiful collection of music. I just wish I could understand whatever it is that they're talking about...but maybe I don't need to? Therein lies the beauty and the mystery of Sigur Ros.
7. Stars - Sad Robots (EP) This was a bit of a difficult album to put in my top 10, seeing as: a. It's not really an album - it's an EP b. I don't even know if anybody heard about it because it was released super-silently.
Regardless, though, seeing Torq Cambell and Miss Millan live a few months back at the Bronson Centre made my decision as clear as day. I hadn't heard any songs on this EP before seeing the show...and that's what made them as bold and intense as they are. 'A Thread Cut With A Carving Knife' is, in my opinion, on the best Stars' songs of all time as it builds, changes and thrusts into an oblivion of textured instrumentation and passionate vocals about living for today. As soap-boxy as he can be at times, Torq Campbell is a prime performer who wants his listeners to notice their surroundings, as opposed to the 'sad robots' whom we all know and come into contact with from time to time. 6. Sloan - Parallel Play The boys are back in town - or were back in town with the release of this new Andrew-heavy disc. After interviewing Jay Ferguson back in the spring about Sloan, where they've come from and where they are going, I couldn't help but appreciate this well layered work that basically sums up the band's existence to date. Chris Murphy drives the balls-out rock train, Andrew labours and crafts away intensely at his weird yet wizardly songs, Patrick blasts his arena-rock fuzz for all to love and wave their arms to and Jay Ferguson carefully plucks flowers in the field of his mind where he smokes out cinammon puffs from the candy cigarettes that are his songs. All in all, for a band I've admired for over a decade now, this is a 'piece de resistance' from Sloan to date and it worth a serious listen.
5. Weezer - The Red Album True to their form, Weezer continues to be a curveball or slider pitch of the music world. You just never know what you'll get with these guys. Stepping back from being a creative control freak, Cuomo actually let some of the other bandmates write some songs of this album...and they're actually decent! Honestly, though, the song that sold me on this disc was 'Pork And Beans' as it pretty much sums up Rivers Cuomo's entire philosophy about the music industry: 'I'm gonna do the things that I want do/ I ain't got a thing to prove to you/...' I just love how millions of music-snobs look at the way these guys do their thing and say 'What the...?' and yet they still remain successful. Go get 'em, Weez. Whenever you finish your tour of primary colours for album names, I'll still be listening.
4. Brendan Canning - Something For All Of Us
I know - Broken Social Scene brain-washed me and pays me to write good reviews of their music. Ha ha. Funny. The reality is that seldom few can create such an anamoly of and array of sound like these folks can. Brendan Canning, too, stepped up as more of a background bassist and released a front-man batch of very well-crafted songs. Sometimes, the feel of this album rests a little too heavy on the shoulders of older Girls Against Boys tunes but that's just fine with me. Most of the songs are driven by terse, driving bass-lines (sometimes distorted, sometimes not) but they all usually explode into some epiphany of sound. Canning's disparate and patchy lyrics are all about community as he truly doles out 'Something For All Of Us'.
3. Coldplay - Viva La Vida/Prospekt's March Coldplay! I KNOW! I'm such a massive sell-out. It's disgusting. Despite being pegged by Pitchfork as 'yet another band who sold out to sound engineer Brian Eno to change their creative direction', say what you will - but we all know that Coldplay has it where it counts. I was expecting to be VERY hum-drummed by this release but I've found that it gets more play in my iPod than many other artists. The intricately digitalized songs of this album have an unparallel sound that I crave a lot of the time. Chris Martin and crew are incredibly good at what they do and they have done very well to evade any sort of traps of the music industry. Ask anyone who has attended a recent liveshow and they'll all say the same thing - 'The quality of sound made it seem like a live playing of the album except way louder and WAY better.' There may not be much room for live improv...but to have millions of people say the same thing about their live performances is pretty friggin' incredible.
2. Silver Speakers - Streetlights And Stars
Conflict of interest? Reviewing an artist who is on my record label? I don't give a DAMN. Yeah, that's right. Suck it. Tyrone Warner is a great song-writer and deserves some just desserts. In a tiny Toronto beer-garden-like pub, back in September, I got the chance to hear the live cd release of this album and it has vacuumed my sub-conscious ever since. Each word drips with meaning and the songs are rife with faith-searching 'meaning of life' type stuff. 'Are You Only In My Head' is one of most hauntingly beautiful songs I have ever heard as the guitars and keys cascade the listener through a valley of sound and light. The only reasons why I couldn't give SS the #1 nod are...well...obviously, he's a friend of mine and that's a little bias...and because he was forced (due to resource restraints) to use a drum machine which draws away from the magnificence of the songs, at times. Better luck next year, T-money.
1. Matt Mays & El Torpedo - Terminal Romance I know what you're thinking and the answer is 'No! - I don't only review East-Coast artists or musicians I've interviewed' okay? Back off. There just really wasn't a massive number of albums released this year...but THIS one by THIS dude takes the cake of rock and eats it, wholesale - candles and all. Pulling a reverse of what 'Narrow Stairs' did to me, I didn't really care much for this album when I first heard it. The fabric of Great Canadian ballad-rock, though, weaves this album together into a finely tangled mesh of sweaty shirts and plaid-jacket, pine-tree highway visions. Matt Mays has shown, once again, that he is a superbly talented songwriter and speaks of the traps that are romances which have become disastrous diseases. What I love most about this album and MM&ET, though, is that Matt is never trying to be something he is not. He is a rocker - through and through. In an interview I conducted with him (that he later invited me to the show afterwards), he said 'I just love guitar riffs, man. Is that wrong?' This album blasts out of the gate with the throat- ramming riff that brings 'Building A Boat' to life and trucks full throttle right into the Springsteen-esque ballad mid-point of 'Terminal Romance' and keeps a-rollin. This album is not for the folky hyper-instrumentalized Sufjan lovers or for the indie-whistling 'everyone-wants- to-be-the-flaming-lips' listeners either. It is heavy like lead - and it will change you.
This is an actual picture of me from this morning. I'm not kidding. Well, okay - it's not actually me but I felt like that guy. Today started with an early rise (after a very short sleep and watching Back To The Future III while being wide awake at 4 am) and the driving of a friend to work. He works out by Albion and Hunt Club. It took me about 25 minutes to get there and I dropped him off at about 7:52 am. I arrived back at my house at 9:45. A drive that took 25 minutes one way took 2 hours the other way.
What the hell is going on with this city and these...people? THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!
After arriving home and having coffee with Sarah, I walked to work. After getting to work, I basically toppled inside into warmer, temperature-controlled air. Somehow, there was more snow on the inside of my hood and on the inside of my glasses than there was on the whole exterior of my body. It's as if the heaven-rejected sleet was being concentrated into a small tornado, encompassing my entire facial region.
It was great to have Dan and my bro over last night and to swill a few brews.
On the way to work, I had this sort-of short story narrative going on inside my head. It was from the perspective of a man talking to a woman (presumably his wife) after they had just moved to South Dakota. The narrative consisted of the man communicating with his wife in the form of a letter from another part of the world. The wife had become clinically depressed after moving and had done little more with herself than sit under a blanket on a couch while consuming pills. She mostly just read Farley Mowat books or watched game shows. The man felt confused about his wife and wanted everything to be okay and was trying hard to understand her. By the middle of the letter, though, his frustration comes out and he is berating her and blaming her for her own condition. The reader learns that the wife has done many attention-seeking things and has tried to leave the man a few times, however unsuccessfully. At the very end of the letter, though, the man reveals that he is on his way home and is pleading for her to give their love another shot as he writes:
'I know I haven't been around. I am a shell of a man. I live in shadows and hotel rooms. I want to be better. I know that you are the way you are mostly because of me. I need to work on accepting you and not wanting you to change. No matter what drugs you consume, you are still you. The you I chose to be with. The you who chose to be with me. I'm coming home to you now. I will never leave you again.'
I don't know what the narrative signifies but it just came upon me. I felt I needed to share it.
Ah, Laurie. What a sweet stache you had back in the day. Ketchup catcher. Cookie duster. Mustard mopper.
Laurie Boschman's pic symbolizes the beginning of a battle fought in the dark, dirty corners of the NHL boards - the grind. It's obvious to me that this battle not only takes place on the ice (when two or three skaters are battling for possession of a loose puck) but also in every day life as we fight the continual fight to pay the bills.
When will it end? When will I have everything paid off?
Who knows.
Despite the hard reality of the grind, though, we must also never give up on our dreams. It's a constant struggle and I've seen many a friend give up, throw in the towel and live a sweet 'nerfy' life. As Darrell from The Office once put it so succinctly to Michael: 'Sittin on your biscuit... Never havin' to risk it.'
It's weird how we get set into our little, strange patterns. Us humans are messed up that way. For instance, if I blog from my new mac as opposed to my old PC, it's a totally different feel. The keys on the mac are very soft and inviting and almost caress my hand as I write. The little white keys are finger pillows. My PC, on the other hand, has a clunky old compaq keyboard and a monitor (that I picked up for free on the side of the road) that randomly blacks out once in a while. The PC, though, is still a part of my life and I am writing from it today. My keystrokes create echoing clicks throughout the apartment. PC blogging makes me feel a little more distinguished.
I have to work today. I will be leaving around 3:30 pm to get to the bar on time. My other job starts back up next monday. People everywhere in North America are assessing all of the turkey, stuffing and buttered yams they've ingested over the last few weeks and are looking to the long, cold road ahead.
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