REPORT A PROBLEM
I was on the streetcar last night, sitting in the back, reading
. We were stopped at Grace Street, and the driver yelled, "Hey, you! You at the back! The guy who just got on!" The guy went up--I only saw him from the back--and he was ejected. He'd snuck in by the back doors.
I got off ten minutes later, bought some pizza, went out, and there was the same guy. I was following him along College Street. He jaywalked across Dovercourt, talking on his phone.
Then, he stopped, and turned around.
The bastard was handsome.
This one's for the guys. If you're a gal, please stop reading.
Guys! I've got a great idea we can all use. Let's invent a condition called soap-nose. You know how sometimes you're shaving, and you breathe in suddenly through your nose, and you get some soap up there?
Well, if you're caught red-handed doing something you shouldn't be doing, simply explain that you have soap up your nose, and the lye in the soap is affecting your brain!
She'll never know otherwise! It's foolproof!
I'm telling you, if we all pull together, this could be bigger than that PMS!
When did I discover the cultural world had feet of clay? I guess it was back around 1981, '82 or so. There was this actor, this total lousy actor, this guy named Richard Gere. Up til then, movie stars were untarnished, they were magical, unreal, straight outta heaven. Then there came the moment when disillusion set in: and it was the celebrity of Gere that did it. Was that all there was? Is this
the best new actor of his generation? That's when I started on the path to enlightenment. The celebrity of George Clooney is, like, Gere II.
A personal note, quickly:
I'm listening to
The Joshua Tree
, and it's breaking my heart.
Years, ten, twelve, fourteen ago, I fell in love with a woman named Joanne Amos during the two-three months me and Mary were broken up. Joanne was a habiter of Hurricanes bar. She was pretty, blonde, lonely.
One summer night I went back to the half-house she shared with girls whose names I don't recall. We listened to the record and danced. There is one moment,
and you give yourself away
, etched in my soul...
I kissed her in their kitchen.
She was so pretty.
-We need experts!
-Experts! We need experts!
-To run things!
-What kind of things?
-We need economical experts, and farm economy experts, and art experts, and watercolour experts, and dog experts and pet experts, and experts who know about working and ones who know stuff about factories, and political experts and experts on politics!
-How do we find them? By electing them?
-No! Non-experts can't choose experts!
-I guess not.
-We need the experts to choose the experts!
-How will the expert-choosing experts be chosen?
-They'll be chosen by ... other experts!
-And you are?
was the daughter of the man who owned this estate, the Havelock-Sylvan apartments.
lived here until her death.
was cared for by her niece.
said to Mary once, "Are you going into town for business?"
had advanced diabetes, was an invalid, never left her apartment,
watched the TV and was horrified by how thing had changed since the 1970s
had lovely china, lovely tea
said, "Oh, I like that name. John. Such a strong, masculine name."
would give us anything, never raised the rent,
died with our rent at under four hundred dollars
is there with the angels.
Last night, when I was asleep, I had an
This wasn't my first erotic dream; but it was the first to include
I have an idea, don't know if it's true or not, that pretty much everyone else has had a dream that included
. But, last night was my first.
I think I was too shy in my dreams to go through with it before yesterday. I think I've reached the point where I'm not interested in sex enough for
to matter that much to me.
Or, barring that, it was
NEW NDP TACTIC: EXPLOIT CHILDREN
The Ontario NDP is exploiting children in order to drive a wedge into free enterprise and free speech.
Rosario Marchese (Trinity-Spadina) Monday introduced a bill to ban food and drink advertising aimed at children.
When asked about advertising for healthy products such as yogurt and cereal, he said, "Children are vulnerable," and that such decisions are best left to parents.
When asked why he was allowing parents to make any decisions he said, "This isn't about children, it's about advertising. We're exploiting kids in order to get rid of freedom. Today, Oreos; tomorrow, the world."
I turned around once during this month and I noticed that the ninth was missing. Yes, somehow I'd gone straight from the eighth to the tenth with nothing in between. I consult a calendar - it was a Wednesday. What could have happened on that Wednesday to have made it not exist? Maybe there was nothing there to see there. I consult the newspaper files and databases - nothing, nothing happened on the ninth. And no-one noticed. Of course, they weren't there to notice, since noticing would be something happening. Sometimes when you see something you shouldn't, your head hurts.
BATHURST, NEW BRUNSWICK
The boys are behaving well even though it's five in the morning and they've barely slept. It's chilly, and I'm wearing just a light jacket, but I don't feel cold. Actually, you could say I feel hot. The train will be here soon, and he'll be on it. It's just a matter of time, just another five minutes, it looks like. He's coming home, my soldier boy is coming home. I can't sleep, I can't think, I'm staring down the tracks, the tracks meet in a blur, it's tears. I'll say: Good morning, soldier husband, good morning.
In 1842, at the Winter Palace in Moscow, the Prince of Russia was dancing the
with the Baroness of Brest-Litovsk. The
is, of course, a dance in five-four time, with a Scottish snap as the fourth beat. The Prince missed the beat at the first coda, and fell down noisily. The guests present at the dance, in order to save him from mortal embarrassment, all chose to thenceforth fall down on the Scottish snap. Thus came into being the step called the
, which remained a part of the imperial repertoire until late 1917, more or less.
Kim Wilson came to me in a dream last night. I was shooting zombies with arrows, and then there she was.
She said, "Why did you try to hit me with arrows?"
I said, "I thought you were one of the zombies. It's been a long time. Are you here because you've missed me?"
"No. This was a big mistake. I should go."
"Why are you here, though?"
"I don't know. I guess I wanted to protect your zombies."
"They're not my zombies."
"Oh yes they are. They are your zombies."
She left. I hadn't seen her for twenty-four years.
I've built a special house. The front door leads into the northwest room. There's a painting of Texas there. Then you go through the door to the east, and then you're in the 'northeast' room. Sit on the red sofa if you want. Go through the door to the 'south,' and you'll be in the ''southeast'' room. A washbasin is here. Then go through the door to the ''west,'' and you'll be in the '''southwest''' room. Have a sandwich. Go through the '''north''' door, and you're in the ''''northwest'''' room. Look out the window. ''''East,'''' and there's the painting again.
I went into the station and Claire yelled, "John!"
I said, "What?"
"You gotta go on camera! The bombs are about to fall! You've got to tell everyone out there in teeveeland!"
"Okay, then. I'm ready."
"Wait, wait. That shirt you're wearing! It'll moire all over the place! Here, put this blue shirt on."
"Okay. Um, could you leave the room?"
"I'm not changing my shirt in front of you."
"I'm not changing in front of you! Sheesh!"
"But John, the bombs! the bombs!"
"I hardly know you!"
"Leave the room!"
Claire left. And I changed.
Sisters, we have an empty nest; the kits are gone, they're out amongst the natural things, they've de-chiminey'd. No more the urgent purr of hunger plus fright, no longer the scrabble of cute little sharp claws against the brickworks! No longer the Mystery of their approximate location in the shaft vertical!
The litter of Winter 8 is done; we reckon there were three kits rather than the paltry two of 7. They are
this very minute
out rooting in filth, eating garbage and cat food, picking fights with the felinical orders, and generally keeping people sleepless. Farewell, my fuzzy childers!
1) two women different in some significant way,
2) a cottage,
3) late at night, when everyone's asleep,
4) a couple beers or coolers,
5) everyone's asleep in one of two cottages,
6) leaving one totally empty,
7) and yourself,
8) an active imagination
1) three girls from high school,
2) an empty house with parents away,
3) an empty afternoon,
4) a deck of cards,
5) a swimming pool out back,
6) some hints
7) a couple of beers or coolers,
8) an active imagination,
9) and yourself,
construct a philosophical, mathematical, or logical problem.
There is a filmmaker named Len Cella. He has made thousands of movies, usually around thirty seconds long, full of stupid things. He called them,
. One, for example, proves that Jello makes a lousy doorstop. Here are some sample quotes from his films: "Fat people are harder to kidnap." "Always carry a yo-yo in case you get trapped in a coal mine." "The best place to open a hat store is right next to the world's worst barber." I guess you can see why he's pretty much at the top of my short list of influences.
Dear Big Brain:
I've tried for eight years to solve the Pop Quiz Paradox, and now I give up. What's the solution?
It's also known as the Unexpected Hanging Paradox, and I myself spent eight years puzzling over it. However, I found the solution. You know the parameters: "A teacher tells his students there will be a surprise quiz one day next week." The solution is in the sematics. You cannot tell someone they are in for a 'surprise,' in any way, shape or form, because then it will not be
I've got this strange idea for a story, but I simply can't think of the right setting, plot, character, anything, tonight. I want a discussion between two, then three, characters, and I want them to be in a room, and I want to have people dressed in black come in and out of the room, placing objects moments before they're needed, while the three characters don't notice them. A person in black comes into the room and sets a telephone down, then one of the characters says, "Just let me make a call about that," and makes a telephone call.
ON CHESIL BEACH
It's Edward and Florence's wedding night. They're having dinner together. They're both virgins, and they're both nervous. Florence gets up and goes into the bedroom. Whoo!
Edward's mother is brain-damaged. Florence went to France with her father once or twice.
They try to have sex, but Edward comes too quickly. He shoots, like, a cup of jizm onto Florence. The stuff dries quicker than Krazy Glue, too. She flees! Ooh!
Edward plays Florence some records that haven't been made yet.
They can't make up. Florence leaves. Then Edward leaves. That's about it.
Bob and Jimmy and me, we were just hanging at the mosque, telling jokes, or actually parables, when Bob says, "Okay. I'm off."
Jimmy says, "Where to?"
Bob opens his vest and shows off, like, fifty pounds of TNT. "Gonna go downtown, blow up infidels."
"So, guess I'll see you...."
Jimmy then says, in a weird voice, "
Don't go there!
"To the market?"
"No, it's, it's a catch-phrase."
Don't go there?
"Um.... It was on TV."
"Television? Die, devil!" and cuts off Jimmy's head.
So anyhoo, Bob killed seven and wounded, like, forty. Not bad for a life's work.
THREE NOTES I TOOK TODAY
SYNAESTHESIA: Tim Horton's is currently serving some sandwiches with bacon on them. So, almost every time I get a coffee, a gust of bacony wind hits me, and I think, "Am I about to drink bacon?"
People love giving one another compliments. Rarely does a day go by without hearing someone say to someone else, "Hey, you've lost weight." Compare that to how often you hear, "Say, charlie, really packing on the fudge there, eh?"
STÉPHANE DION CHANNELS GROUCHO MARX: "Dese are my principles, and if you don't like dem, I have uders."
"In a shrinking world... with shortages everywhere... one man stood up... to the onslought... and tried... to hide....
"His parents... didn't understand him.... His boss... didn't understand him.... His girlfriend... not even she... understood him....
"'Don't you see I just wanna be left alone?'
"But... what if... despite what you wanted... there was... simply... no... way... out?
"'Please, go away!'
"'John, your father and I are very disappointed with you.'
"'John, your work seems to be slipping.'
"This fall... see... how a man... determined to be alone... fails... in his fight... against... the forces."
I found a yellow bag out on the street. I thought, What the Hell? I opened it up. It was full of some yellowish sauce. I gave it a quick taste. It tasted a bit like fish. Hmmm. I took the yellow bag home. My boss and his wife were due to arrive that evening for a dinner-party. I smeared the miasma onto crackers. The boss loved 'em! I got a promotion! AAA! Later, my boss had a haemorrhage and I took his job. Now I'm King of the World. It's a wonder the things you can make from garbage.
'Course it had to happen.
I got on the King streetcar this morning and headed for the back. I knew I should have stopped; but instead I was sitting in the third seats from the rear, and there were four bo-hunks behind me. There were talking loud, and stupid. So of course I had to move, and move I did, about halfways up. But I could still
them, hyuk, hyuk, hyukking it up. I wondered where this brace of oxen was headed. I couldn't read, so annoyed was I, I barely got through a page of
Praise of Folly
'Twas a lovely day for a walk in the park even though I was not at all in the mood for it. A kid was heading toward me, kicking a laughing orange ball. He reminded me of a kid from a television commercial for laundry detergent. Suddenly I stuck my foot out, and tripped him. The ball vanished. The kid had fallen flat on his face. He was still for a moment, then he stood up, leaving a bloody smear. His mouth and nose were dripping blood. He wasn't crying. He pointed at me. That's all there was to it.
I'M WAY MUCH THINNER (THAN YOU)
Hey fat girl (Uh-huh?)
You on the dancefloor (Who, me?)
You're a fat girl (I am?)
Time you were shown the door (Ooh!)
Time for the boys (Oh yeah!)
To make a lotta sexy noize (Oh! Oh!)
Gaze upon my fabulous joys
Gaze, gaze, gaze, gaze
'Cause I'm way much thinner
I'm way much thinner
I'm way much thinner than you!
(Thin, thin, th-th-thin, th-thin)
My stylist is the one (Oh yeah!)
Knows how to make the boyz run-run (Come to Felipe!)
And I take my tips
From he who took away my hips!
UMTPMS VVU LFS MYU ELU GSO NES KVSMSE OUE LIN VSNVFS TTM NLS UIFSMM UEL IPV RON HET NIW XYT YSOUOE MSG SEJENH UTM PRS OYN TUXJMY VSSOPR TUE PVN HXP ERN WLS FUS GSU MUM TXW TMM YPMUOV YMPEOU HPT PSS FUELTN PHP WFP EOU XWT MXNWFO EMP PXS MYN TSK SNKFSO NRN WJE NHH YPMUIS PEH YSE UTP RMY UTU VSP FFR LNM MNX PEJHPR MNN IWXYNE MYS HSS JSEOPV UOP RTP MWV OPRTWE OPR EUL WMUMNW MUI LNU ELM NFN TSI RXNLMY SVS TEN ONW LMP LNW MUM PEO ISMYST SXN EOP EOM YUV OOP RUI TNLPO
Here comes another one of those big fast things. Better get out of the way, pronto.
But they're pretty good to hide under, if you can stand the smell.
God, I wish there was some food around. They kick me out in the evening. As if I want to be starving and cold.
What did I do to deserve this?
Ah, there's that cat at the window. She
Cold! Hungry! Mrowwrr!
I just know I'm gonna get killed out here some day. I'm so miserable.
They turf me out in the middle of the night....
I think I'll go into the kitchen, grab a bite to eat. Yum!
I think I'll lie down on the radiator for a bit.
I think I'll check out the bedroom.
I think I'll look outside for a bit, see if that outdoor cat is out there tonight.
Wait, over there, across the street....
He's heading this way....
Middle of the street....
Oh! A big fast thing!
Did he just get hit?
There's a parked thing in the way, I can't tell.
I think I'll go into the kitchen, grab a bite to eat. Yum!
The Tip Jar