The baffling ways people communicate

I understand (sort of) modern communication tools – cell phones, e-mail, text messaging and so on. What I don’t understand is people.

With the exception of one person, no one ever phones me when I am at home. I suspect there are cameras tracking my movements. As soon as I leave my condo, they call me. At home.

And, of course, they use the home phone, not my cell. And they don’t say, “Hmm. He’s not there. I’ll try him on his cell.” No, they leave a message.

Why don’t they ever call my cell? It’s an easier number to remember.

Of course, if they did call my cell I probably wouldn’t hear it. I’ve usually got my iPod on and, finding phones generally annoying, my cell’s ringer is low (and it sounds like a phone – not a munchkin musical rendition of “I Love New York” or “Over the Rainbow”).

I’m just not a big fan of phones. One person I know, however, seems to only use phones. She does reach me when I’m at home but that’s simply because she calls so often. I work with her and she calls for every little question. To her, and everyone else, I ask, “Why not use e-mail?” I’m almost always reachable by e-mail – I’m almost continually on my computer. All friggin’ day long!

But she uses the phone.

I also don’t understand people who live on their cells and, even more baffling, are compelled to bellow into it. Even the most intimate conversations. “Yes, I’m sorry about last night! It’s the erectile dysfunction! I had to stop the Viagra because of what was happening to my eyes!!!”

Why do they bellow? And why do they always sit behind me on the bus or at the table beside me at restaurants?

And what could they possibly be talking about that takes three hours of phone time?

Technology is easy to understand compared to people.

Tags: Communication, People, Technology, Cell phones

Finally, I burble

One my other blogs, The Burble, has been languishing. It’s where I ramble about movies. But I’ve finally found a reason to get it into gear.

I watched the movie The Weather Man and posted about it. The movie is not my usual cup of tea (as the expression goes). It doesn’t reflect how I see the world, as a general rule.

But wow … what a great movie. So I burbled about it.

(I've watched the movie twice now, by the way. If the movie didn't bowl people over when it came out it's not because it wasn't good. It's because it's not really the kind of thing people like to hear.)

The winterized gazebo; the courtyard

The best way to winterize your gazebo is to have it in a country where, eventually, it snows. (Well, that's a kind of winterizing.)

Yes, this week we finally got snow. Still, there's not a lot of it. Not like we would normally have. And this snow is about three months or so late in arriving.

What you see, by the way, is what I see when I leave my condo and make an immediate left turn. Yes, that's our little inner court. And this is what it looks like in winter.

It's actually quite nice. Each year on a Saturday in late August or early September, we have a condo party here. People wheel out their barbecues and we eat, drink beer and/or wine, and generally have a pleasant time. And if you get tired of people for a while? Just go into your own place for a bit, then come out again.

Personally, I think those are perfect party conditions.

Shadow, sword, poison – hate ain’t good

I am currently reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami. And I’m really enjoying it.

Actually, it’s one of the reasons I’m up way too late these days. I start reading and the next thing I know … “Yikes! Look at the time!”

Anyway, I came across this in the book and liked it. So I decided to post it, for what it’s worth:

“Hatred is like a long, dark shadow. Not even the person it falls upon knows where it comes from, in most cases. It is like a two-edged sword. When you cut the other person, you cut yourself. The more violently you hack at the other person, the more violently you hack at yourself. It can often be fatal. But it is not easy to dispose of. Please be careful, Mr. Okada. It is very dangerous. Once it has taken root in your heart, hatred is the most difficult thing in the world to shake off.”

(Those italics are mine.) It seems to be that is very similar to something else I heard or read somewhere (not sure where):

“Revenge is like taking poison and hoping the other guy dies.”

Tags: Hate, Haruki Murakami

Is it the weekend yet?

Good grief … or good gravy, as my mother use to say … it’s only Thursday. Where do these weeks come from? You know, those weeks where there are 12.2 gazillion things to do and everything seems muddled and buggered up?

Perhaps it’s not the week itself, but how the week is perceived. “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our weeks, but in ourselves ...”

I seem to be in one of my recurring periods of imbalance. I am wide awake way too late at night. In the morning, I can’t sleep in. But in the middle of the day? After lunch, everything crashes and I want to sleep … which would be fine except when you’re working it’s generally frowned upon.

Whatever it is, the end result is a man who looks and feels as if he just came out of the washer’s rinse cycle.

I have the mental swiftness of a lobotomized bureaucrat. (Is that an oxymoron?) Sample exchange – internal dialogue:

“Bill, what day is it?”

“Why, it’s Wednesday of course. No – wait! It’s Friday. I can’t believe it’s already Friday. Oh, that’s because it’s not. Is it Thursday? Doesn’t feel like a Thursday. What’s the computer say? Wow – it is Thursday!”

So. It’s Thursday. But it feels like a continuation of Wednesday – which may be what Thursdays are, days that feel like extensions of the day before. Whatever it is, the week feels like one that will never end. And perhaps it won’t.

I guess I’ll find out Friday.

(Note: How did today begin? I have a small coffee grinder. I put the beans in. The grinder has a cord that pulls out. So I did this. Unfortunately, I neglected to put the lid on the grinder and forgot that pulling the cord out makes the entire grinder spin.

Beans freaking everywhere!!!)

Some passing notions - a grab bag

Lacking the mental capacity to compose a coherent post, I offer the following cognitive belches (seven in all):

1) I’ve got so many things to do this week that I am not doing any of them. I seem to be like that. There’s a limit to what I can manage – go past it, I just sit and look at the pile. I do nothing as I sink further and further into an impotent gloom. (But eventually the stuff gets done – buggered if I know how though.)

2) If there were a service that cleaned litter boxes for you, I’d sign up.

3) My best posts are never written. At least not in the physical world. They are in my head, when I’m away from the computer doing something else. Last night, for example, I had a great post about my mother, women, death and memory – I swear, you would have laughed and wept and started a blog award thing just so you could nominate it. Alas, I was doing dishes and laundry and so it remained in my head. Instead, you got this lame ass post.

4) Why do all movie trailers look the same? Is there just one guy in Hollywood putting them together? And does he just have one style, one idea?

5) Why do eight out of ten people in creative writing classes want to write fantasy novels? And why do the other two want to write sentimental stories about grandpa’s shoes?

6) If hip-hop was called country, would people who like hip-hop suddenly hate it and country music fans suddenly like it? And if country music was called hip-hop, would hip-hop fans like it and hate hip-hop because it was now called country? In other words, do people actually listen first before deciding what they like or don’t? Or do they just look at the label and decide based on that? Phrased another way, it strikes me that a lot of people wouldn’t know good music if it walked up to them and shat on their shoes.

7) Finally … if baby-boomers really are baby-boomers, why haven’t they all blown up?

Well, that’s it for now. Clearly, there’s nothing of merit going on in my head today.

Warn the world; forgive me – poetry threatens

I bought a book the other day – The Ode Less Travelledby Stephen Fry. It’s a book about writing poetry. No, really.

Now, I think I know enough about language and particularly English that I don't need a book about how to write a poem. So why pick this up? The answer is simple and it comes in two parts.

The first part is that Mr. Fry is quite English in the way he writes and he’s a particular kind of Englishman in the way he writes. He’s very humourous and very dry, which always appeals to me, and he has very wide range of words he draws upon. In other words, he writes well and he’s funny (not to mention informative).

The second reason is because I like writing poetry though I’ve not done it for a very long time. However, one year I wrote over 500 poems! Granted, the vast majority were crap. In fact, I recall only two that I actually liked (and one was bad but I liked what it aspired to be).

So, one reason for getting the book was to see if, while being amused by Mr. Fry’s way of writing, I might not also be inspired to start writing poems again.

There is one very great risk, however. I discovered back in my poetry writing days that, after a certain point, my free verse style fell away and I got hooked on rhyme. I nearly drove myself mad with rhyming things – it was not something I wanted to do but was something I was compelled to do. I would find myself drying dishes, putting cutlery away, and saying things like, “And now I put away this knife – or shall I, rather, take a life?”

It took years of therapy to get over that. It was the second time it had happened. Years ago, at college, a friend and I went through a hudibrastic couplet phase – that’s couplets that rhyme but don’t really (like many popular songs do). (“I fell in love in springtime/on the Mason-Dixon line.”)

Anyway … I do hope this doesn’t lead to bad things. To be honest, I haven’t started reading the book yet. I may never get around to it. I may be too frightened to start. But should you start seeing posts that resemble what follows, at least you’ll know why:

I think that I may never see
A blog rhyme quite like poetry
But that’s okay, most o’ the time
Poetry (when good) does not rhyme.

Yet, why not rhyme a word or three
And pass it off as poetry?
(Oh my, I rhymed that once before,
in verse the first, lines three and four.)

Tags: Poetry, Stephen Fry

Easily amused when easily bored

Don't ask ... well, go ahead and ask. Why change this blog’s look? I suppose two reasons.

First, it's always good to change your clothes when they begin to take on a displeasing odour. So it is with blogs, I think.

Secondly, and the real reason, I have always hated the colours of the other template I was using. And I’ve planned on changing this for ages. I just never found anything to change it to that I liked.

Not that I like this all that much. But at least it’s got some blue in it and that’s the colour I always gravitate to.

Anyway … I also like to fiddle so I spent some time fiddling and this is what happened. Fiddling people are like that (and this is what their blogs are like.)

Of course, the downside of blues and grays is a rather somber, serious appearance. Oh well, such are the trade-offs.

Swedish women; Calgary firefighters

Winning is nice, but winning really means something when you’re not expected to. My favourite part of the Olympics is when the people who aren’t supposed to win go ahead and win anyway.

Like the Swedish women’s hockey team. They beat the U.S. women’s team 3 to 2 in an overtime shootout.

I didn’t want the U.S. to lose. I was expecting to see a great, fiercely fought gold medal game between the Canadian and American women. From what I can gather, they’re none too fond of one another. I suppose mainly because they are the two top contending teams.

But those Swedes … They threw a wrench into everyone’s expectations by doing what they weren’t suppose to.

Then there’s this Calgary firefighter, Duff Gibson, who won the gold in skeleton, the sport where you go sliding on what looks to me like a TV tray.

He wasn’t suppose to win either – certainly not the gold. That was expected to go to the guy who took silver, another Calgarian, Jeff Pain.

I can’t say I care much for sports. I certainly don’t spend a lot of time thinking about skeleton or women’s hockey.

But I love it when people who aren’t supposed to win do. I imagine that must be one of the greatest feelings in the world. I think it’s appropriate that today, as my iPod was shuffling, it decided to play Jackson Browne’s “Anything Can Happen.”

Anything can.

Just ask those Swedish women. Ask Duff Gibson.

“Ninety percent of everything is crap”

The science fiction author Theodore Sturgeon is credited with the quote “Ninety percent of everything is crap.” As I recall, what he actually said was “Ninety percent of everything is crud,” yet in today’s world we prefer crap to crud. But here’s the thing …

It’s one of my favourite quotes (one I’ve gone on about before), though maybe not for the reasons others might expect. The quote suggests a very contemporary focus on crap. But I don’t take it as a dismissive remark about the vast majority of music, movies, books and whatever else is being hustled out there in the world.

I take it as a reminder that ten percent of what we do is gold. Or diamonds or rubies or whatever else isn’t shit but something of worth.

In life, I expect failure, I anticipate disaster, I feel reassured by screw-ups. That’s ninety percent of life. To be surprised by it is to be someone who lives with his or her head up their bum. These balls-ups may occur in careers or relationships or heaven knows where, but they occur all the time and, if you see them the right way, they are pure comedy and very entertaining.

Ninety percent of everything is crap. Ninety percent of everything goes south. That’s how it plays out.

But that other ten percent … oh my! Surely that’s worth all the horseshit?

The thing is, there’s no way of knowing what is going to be part of the 90 percent and what’s going to be part of the 10 percent. It’s kind of a crapshoot. But that’s also what makes it entertaining.

And that’s why I’m always puzzled by people who desperately try to plan and direct and control their lives, as if they have the ability to determine what part will be the 90 and what part will be the 10. From what I’ve seen, you ain’t got no control.

Well, that’s not entirely true. You do have some control, but maybe not the control you think. You can’t control anything by how you set up the pieces and determine how they play out. That usually (not always) blows up in your face. You can, however, control how you interact with people, which helps determine how they respond to you and situations, which largely determines how everything plays out since the way things “play out” is usually about people.

I’ve lost track of what my point was … I’m not sure I had a point. Except to say screwing up not only isn’t the worst thing to happen to you, sometimes it’s the best. (By the way - the guy on the right? That's Theodore Stirgeon.)

And while there is a lot of crap out there, and much of that is as annoying as hell, ten percent is gold and if that’s what you’re focused on, I think more often than not, you’ll find life generally shines.

(Heavens to betsy, I sound like I should be writing greeting cards!)

(Note: Theodore Sturgeon wrote the novel More Than Human. However, I remember him best for a novella that appeared in Harlan Ellison's speculative fiction collection, Dangerous Visions [1967]. The novella was called, "If All Men Were Brothers, Would You Let One Marry Your Sister?".)

The stupid cab ride; the silent driver

In my riveting account of my dismal day yesterday I neglected to mention one of the odder parts of it – the taxi ride.

So we’re driving along and I ask the driver, “Have they closed that bridge yet?”

You see, for me to get to work I have to cross the river and the bridge I would use was supposed to be closed for the next eight months. I thought.

The driver said nothing.

“The bridge – have they closed it?” I asked again, a little louder.

Nada. Eyes forward. Head rigidly fixed on the road. He said not a word. He made no gesture. He gave not the slightest indication he had heard me.

I was puzzled but I let it go. But after a while, as we got closer to the river, I asked once more.

“Have they closed the bridge yet?”

Nothing. He was an older guy – maybe he was deaf? Or deaf in his right ear?

Then we crossed the bridge. Not long after, I was at the office.

As things turned out, the taxi driver had no hearing problems – not when it came to paying for the ride. He heard me quite easily.

I’ve no idea why he completely ignored me. However, I’ve one theory … it may have been because he was confused. Because I was profoundly stupid throughout all of yesterday, I had my bridges mixed up. It’s another bridge altogether that is closed and it’s possible the driver was as puzzled by my question as I was by his refusal to respond.

Whatever … it was just another curious aspect of strange, strange day.

By the way, it's bloody freezing here today.

My day sucked - but it was funny!

As days go, today sucked in rather a large way. Let me explain …

First you need to understand that yesterday – Valentine’s Day, no less – was excellent, even though it’s excellence had nothing to do with it being Valentine’s day. Now, I don’t pretend to understand these things. In the absence of any rational explanation I put the merits (or lack thereof) of the last day or two down to meteorology, the proximity of the full moon (which was a day or two ago) and/or, as Kurt Vonnegut might say, the odd chemicals we have running around the human system.

Whatever the reason … Valentine’s Day, the 14th, was a great day. I was full of pep. Full of strange and giddy energy. It was a day of blissful silliness. Which probably explains why I populated other people’s blogs with self-indulgent comments. Well, so many people seemed grumpy – and I wasn’t!

But then night fell and I eventually went to bed and … oh dear. Everything crapped out.

It was the worst sleep I had had in ages. I recall waking around 3 a.m. following a dream of being half-dead, half-embalmed. Not pleasant. And things went downhill from there. Bottom line … for reasons I don’t understand, I had weird and disturbing dreams all night and when I finally got up I felt I had not slept at all.

Then the new day, today, began … what a schmozzle! I usually work from home except today I couldn’t connect to the network. What the hell was wrong? I ended up (much later in the day) going into the office to resolve the problem …

Blah blah blah … to make a tedious story shorter, the problem was simple. I was a moron. The reason I couldn’t connect to the network was because instead of using my network password to start up the laptop, I had been using the VPN log in … which sounds rather more technical and boring than anyone cares about but, what it boils down to? Thanks to the fact I was burned out from lack of sleep my brain was not working so the key password lodged in my brain to get things going was unavailable. So … I ended up calling the support people and making an ass of myself.

And that was just one of the various asinine things I did today. I won’t bother mentioning the outraged e-mails I sent to co-workers that had to be followed up with other e-mails that boiled down to, “Sorry! Never mind!”

It was just a bad, bad, bad day … and the temperature outside is plummeting, and that’s not helping anything. But there is an upside!

Tomorrow will be a far better day. Trust me - I’ve experience these things. When I have a great day, it’s followed by a disaster … and that’s usually always followed by a much better day. It’s a very strange natural law I do not understand.

And, actually, today was more funny than bad. It really was great comedy. Unfortunately, I was the butt of most of the jokes.

(And yes, I know, I have used this picture before. But it's fitting for the kind of day I've had so I'm using it again.)

Smiling happy people

Well, it has nothing to do with Valentine's Day, and I'm not much for sports, but it seemed appropriate today to show Beckie Scott and Sara Renner, two smiling happy people (shiny, too, with their silver medals). Happy people have a synergistic effect on other people, I think.

A love sonnet from Neruda

Well, it is Valentine’s Day after all and, while love has numerous aspects, shadings and qualities, it’s romantic love that most people think of on this day – it’s presence or absence.

Whatever … I love the poetry of Pablo Neruda (well, the political stuff not so much) and any excuse to post a poem of his must be leapt at. Even if he is a bit darker and earthier than the usual greeting card sentiment associated with the day. Actually, because he is earthier and darker. So, from One Hundred Love Sonnets (1960) (translated by Stephen Mitchell):

XVII

I don’t love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

- Pablo Neruda -

Tags: Neruda, Poetry, Love, Valentine's Day

My very own word cloud

Thanks to Spinning Girl (who in turn thanked Lee Ann), I was able to create my own word cloud over at this place.

I am very pleased that it begins with "Alberta Ass." What could be more appropriate?

"Be my Valentine ..."

I think I'd rather have a root canal.

I made the mistake of taking a look at some of the stuff on Postsecret. Good grief. Who would want to hook up with that? There were maybe one or two that were normal but most looked like what was needed wasn't a lover/companion but a freakin' therapist!

I do my own share of bitching and moaning and whining but I'm not crazy enough to think that it's an attractive quality. I'd actually be a little worried about anyone who did find it appealing.

Anyway ... I believe you're most likely to find what you're looking for when you stop looking and get on with your life, if only because now you are so much more interesting.

The existential Internet

On one of my other blogs, Writelife, I posted a lengthy list of terms people searched for that led them to me - well, to one of my blogs.

I have five favorites. They seem to have a certain existential questing:

- am i supposed to be here?
- ????????
- please stop writing blogs
- how to become an idiot
- what am I supposed to do with my life?

The rest are posted under The things we look for. (Who the hell does a search for "why i love to suck cock so much?")

I'm fascinated by the idea that someone took the time to actually do an Internet search for some of these things. Why? For the love of Mike, why?

Tags: Searches, Blogs, Internet, People

Old white guys with guns

As if there were not hazards enough in this endlessly cranky world what with every idiot getting a license to drive a car, petty crime rampant and urban violence seemingly the norm, now even rural areas are at risk.

It seems U.S. Vice-President Dick Cheney managed to shoot some 78-year old fellow hunter in a quail shoot. (No information on how the quail did.)

"Quail shoot" somehow sounds very sedate and civilized. But think about it ... a bunch of old white guys wandering around with rifles shooting at what they hope are quail.

Gives me the heebie jeebies. I think I'd probably feel safer on a Mexican drug run.

You know, U.S. troops may be safer in Iraq.

It’s showtime!

Over in Torino, the Canadian contingent took part if the opening ceremonies of the 2006 Winter Olympics. They proudly waved the maple leaf and wore their ear-flap lumberjack hats – at least, I think they’re lumberjack hats. I’m not really sure how else to describe them. Not knowing any lumberjacks personally, I can’t confirm this guess. (“Is that the sort of hat you would wear?”)

But tell me ... is it just my imagination or does this look like a scene from early James Bond? Don't they remind you of an army of evil henchman at some secret missle plant in the Arctic devising ways to take over the world? Don't you expect Sean Connery to suddenly jump in and save the day?

A number of questions come to mind when I see all the hoopla about the Olympics. One of the first questions is will I be spirited away in the night by secret Olympic police for having used the word Olympics without official sanctioning? Am I compromising the Olympic brand – which, of course, is not at all compromised by the obsequious toadying the Olympics do in order to nail down those corporate sponsorships.

Sorry … it’s hard not to be cynical when it comes to the Olympics. But it seems more about corporate deals and ways around drug-testing than anything else.

The Olympics are simply too big. Too much razzle dazzle; too much money. And way too much media.

Just too much nonsense.

Minor update: By the way, I'm ready for these Olympics with my silly winter hat.

Tags: Olympics, Winter Games, Business

Ten things you won’t find in my place

I've taken a moment out to waste everyone's time with some useless information. Should you ever visit my humble domicile, you will not find:

1. Sugar
2. Newspapers
3. Dog shit
4. Cauliflower
5. A radio turned on
6. A TV Guide
7. Frozen dinners
8. An elephant
9. Political support
10. A thong

The sugar thing has been a problem in the past. Someone drops by for coffee and - oops! Sorry, I don't put sugar in coffee. I don't put sugar on or in anything, so I never really saw the point of getting any. And although there is salt in my place, I almost never use that either.

Of course, the question that arises is, "So what would the world find in my place?" But that's another post.

Hang on!

I forgot number eleven:

11. A gun

Ain't got that either.

Yes, I’m enjoying this singular winter

As winters go, this one’s been jim dandy. I haven't worn boots yet this winter nor have I worn what would be considered a winter coat. You would have to be a Canadian to understand just what that means.

For one thing, I live in Edmonton, Alberta. On a day like today, it would normally be something like … oh, maybe as cool as -32 Celcius (that would be about -26 Fahrenheit).

In fact, it’s been known to be as cold as -40 Celcius, which just so happens to be where Fahrenheit and Celcius meet up. It turns out that -40 Celcius is also -40 Fahrenheit.

But so far this winter the temperature has remained hovering around … oh, 5 Celcius? (That’s about 41 Fahrenheit.) It’s going to be 10 or 12 on the weekend (50 to 55 Fahrenheit) … And while that may seem a bit cool for those of you who don’t live this far north, that’s damned unusual for these parts.

Also unusual is the almost complete lack of snow and ice. That’s like the Sahara not having sand, or New York lacking people.

The troubling question, however, is this somewhat balmy winter just nature having fun or is this the result of how well we’ve completely fucked the planet?

Although I’m enjoying the weather, I suspect it’s the latter and, though I may be enjoying the quality of this winter, I know some people in the southern States, around the New Orleans area, who might have a thing or two to say about how we’ve buggered things up.

Tags: Weather, Environment, Edmonton, Alberta, Winter

Heaven help us - it's the Grammies

Excuse me while I rant, but ... Is it me or are the Grammies, hands down, the worst awards show going?

a) You don''t know who half the people are,

b) 90% of the people who are suppose to be stars don't know how to dress,

c) half the so-called stars have nothing to do with music.

Also ... you know, you would think a show that was about music would hire people to do sound that knew something about sound.

And what the hell was that piano slamming thing Paul McCartney tried to pass off as a song?

I dunno ... I kinda think the Grammies show is the one they run because they want the award shows that follow, like the Oscars, to look better than they are. The Grammies almost make the People's Choice palatable.

Fortunately, I was able to turn the Grammies off and watch a DVD - Breakfast at Tiffany's, the Anniverary Edition.

(And I'd just like to say ... isn't it tragic that someone with the talent of Mariah Carey is such a twit?)

That’s right, I don’t drive

Yes, it’s true. I do not drive. I have never driven. I don’t know how (though I’m sure I could probably figure it out).

And people are always asking me, “Why don’t you drive?”

Answer: “I don’t know.”

I really don’t. I’ve just never had the urge to drive a car. And I certainly have never had the urge to pay for one, or for gas, or for insurance and so on.

Yes, there are a number of disadvantages to not driving. But, on the other hand, there are also advantages – not the least of which is the money.

So how do I get around? Well, it’s not quite the tragedy you might imagine. I walk. I take the bus. I take cabs. It’s really not that difficult. With my iPod on, it’s actually quite pleasant.

My preference is for walking.

Life outside of a car is also quite entertaining. It gives you the opportunity to people watch, which tends to be better than most TV.

Anyway ... to repeat, I don't drive and I never have. And I rather like it that way.

Some random observations …

… As I’ve nothing interesting or profound to say yet still have the urge to inflict my whining on the world. So I offer these:

- The Super Bowl sucked. I don’t care who won or lost, it was just plain dull. I mean, they ran more commercials than plays. Snoooze festival …

- Has Hollywood become a parody of itself? Well, I suppose it always was a parody of itself … but more so now? How many more movies are they going to give us about people in tights? It’s like Richard Simmons runs the studios.

- Despite all the great technology for playing music, we still have American Idol. This doesn’t make sense to me. You would think one would preclude the other.

- North America and sushi … there’s really no rational explanation for that. They simply don’t belong together – yet they do!

Well, I’ve literally nothing interesting to say since getting ill. It’s like it’s wiped out my brain.

What a strange weekend that was ...

I’m hoping for a better day tomorrow. I’ve spent the last few days with … “something.” I dunno what. But I’ve spent the last few days sleeping. And with aching joints and muscles and generally feeling less than I should.

So hopefully tomorrow I’ll be back to normal.

What a wasted weekend.

Really, you’ve no idea what a weird weekend this was. It was like being sick but not being sick at the same time. Very odd.

What the hell was that? The weather?

Yesterday was … well, I don’t know what it was but I was not well.

Headaches all day. Aching muscles and bones – especially my legs. It was like they were bruised but there were no bruises. And sleep … I pretty much slept all day yesterday and half of today. And I never sleep like that.

Maybe I had the flu, but I don’t think so. All day yesterday we had a “Severe Winter Weather Watch.” It didn’t turn into anything though it still could. What’s significant about it is that the weather was turning itself inside out.

Later today it will start raining then, later, to snow.

And my point is, for reasons I can’t explain, things like the way I felt yesterday (sleeping, headaches, etc.) seem to occur when fronts move in and the weather switches in a big way.

Some friends call me Barometer Boy. Well, whether this is all a horeshit explanation I dreamed up in my head or there is some truth in it, it’s very, very weird. The barometer was falling all day yesterday, by the way.

Yesterday was a total write off. Today, I’m just trying to reorient myself. I wonder if there are others who have this problem? Does the weather throw other people out of whack?

(Note: I'm supposed to go to a restaurant for a birthday thing for some people tonight. The way I', feeling, I'm not sure I'll be going. But you never know. By then I may be back to normal.)

Jesus plays ... hockey?

At the risk of seeming partisan, my first question is, "Why isn't Jesus wearing an Edmonton Oilers jersey?"

My second question is ... is this really how you want to think of Jesus, if you're someone who is a Christian?

I suppose this is meant for kids more than anyone, still ... Jesus with a hockey stick fighting over a puck? Even if you go for this kind of thing, he really should be wearing a helmet. The kids, too. As it is, he's setting a bad example. One good body check into the boards and those kids' heads could crack open like melons.

I wonder what his plus-minus is? And from the picture, you can't really tell what position he plays - although you can be pretty sure he's not a goalie. Forward maybe? Centre? Left wing? Or maybe defense on the left side?

Hard to say.

Oh well ... I wonder if they have a Moses with Seahawks sweater? And maybe a Satan in a Steelers uniform?

(I'm pretty sure the hockey Jesus must be an Oiler. He's certainly not a Flame. You know who's on that team, what with all that fire imagery.)

A post that cannot justify itself – sheer rubbish

I feel the need to post something yet I have nothing to post. So I will do what I do very well, I will ramble …

What bloody day is this? It feels like Thursday. I thought it might be Tuesday but, as it turns out, it was Wednesday. (Though by the time this is posted it may actually be Thursday.)

Why can’t I keep track of days? Maybe because this week has been so busy I don’t know up from down.

Switching gears … based on another post, I’m considering a community initiative to insist the local Safeway restock and once again carry pizzarogies and Tazo Zen tea (note: annoying Flash waste-of-time site ... don't bother clicking). The pizzarogies are not for me but the tea is. (Edmonton is very proud of its Ukrainian community and Italian community – which may explain the business of pizzarogies.)

On another topic … why does a little kitty cat like Gonzo piss like a race horse? My God, I hate cleaning the litter box …

A friend has gotten me on Skype. And Lushy has gotten me on Frapper! (beta). Soon, I will have no tactile life in the real world at all. I will merely be an essence on the Internet.

On Saturday, I’m going to dinner with numerous friends to celebrate some birthdays. The last time I went with these friends to this particular restaurant the bill was around $1200!!!! I recall opening my wallet at one point and my friend Liz reaching in and just taking all the bills that were in it. I also recall having a meltdown later in the evening and screaming at everyone. We were ejected from a bar on Whyte Avenue later still.

I hope this Saturday is a bit more sedate. I plan to remain sober (but not putting money on it). This evening will be about birthdays, something I have serious issues with, but I won’t go there. There’s a good deal of profanity looking for an outlet regarding that topic and I’d prefer not to do that here.

Well, that’s my nothing post. It’s a waste of time but at least I feel better for having posted something. Hopefully future posts won’t contain so much drivel.

Nighty night all! And toodle-oo!!!!