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There's the sun, at that angle at this time. It was there at the same place exactly one year ago, the same place in the sky at this time, 8:22 in the morning. Up at that angle, to the east. And a year before a year ago today, it was there, too. Every year it's there, at the same place. It shone through that window, at that very same angle. It lit that tree there in precisely the same way. And it was there, at that place in the sky thirty-eight years ago, at the moment of my only birth.
When I was leaving work today I noticed a reporter was doing a stand-up on Wellington Street. Normally I steer clear of the cameras; but I saw that there was no way to get to the subway except by crossing its axis. I figured Mary was at home watching, so I made hay: I turned toward the camera to look at the oncoming traffic before I crossed. There I must have been, full-faced, in the background.
When I got home, I asked Mary, "So, did you see me on TV?"
She said, "Yeah, they did an item on pathetic losers."
A ball in a pinball machine she's shimmering metallic and hard as steel as she so slowly glances off with a sorry so sincere the waitress with her tray held high and then she knocks a glance against a bumper boy she's never seen before she thinks but she is wrong for he remembers her from when she tried and played two weeks ago and then she hits a row of targets taking down the middle two (they smile) and then she sinks into a pocket, rests a moment, thinks
Where now to?
and is thrown back to the game.
"The CBC television network sometimes advertises the CBC radio network. This is the text of one of their promos, as best I recall:
"'I'm Anna Maria Tremonti, next time on The Current: Madonna on a piece of toast? Christ on a wall in the parking lot of a Tim Horton's? Tomorrow we will be examining the phenomenon of sacred images perceived to be appearing as if by a miracle on inanimate objects across the country. After all, there are profits in prophets.'
"This correspondent thinks it's quite refreshing when they are honest about things, even if for just once."
And now I'm thinking about Cam McEligott. He lived four houses away. Man, could he ever toke. He would toke himself slitty, I swear, and moan, "
." He got in trouble a lot, and he was always so extra-polite to my parents when he telephoned that they would often made fun of him. He was the one I thought would wind up in jail, I never thought it would be Chris instead. As it's all turned out, Cam bought my grandparent's house when they sold it; he lives there, he's married, he's got two kids, he's stable. Go figure.
Okay, I have to say it, I have to admit it:
Here it comes:
Difficulties in expression, just one sec:
I may get in deep trouble for this:
There's a dangerous statement coming, if you'll just wait on me:
I'm speaking from experience and imagination:
Wait up! wait up:
It's been rolling around in my head for about a month now:
And I believe it's true:
And I know, if I asked, it would be
I find it real gloomy that all the homosexual men I know have almost most certainly fucked more girls than I have.
2 AM AT HURRICANES AFTER A POKER GAME
An' she went down the stairs ... was she crying?
The old lady is working the ATM.
A nice-looking guy sitting alone
An' two girls, with a guy, an' they're bored, an' playing the terminal;
An' I'm there,
An' this's from my notebook;
An' there's three B-boys, in for last, lost to [illegible] nor rock.
An' a black guy sayin' "
What the fuuuuuck
An' me an' Phil an' another guy arguin' about the foundin' of Israel,
An' across town, over on Garden Avenue, there's Roy, there's Roy, there's Roy, downloading some porn....
I was at the UN this afternoon and outside the Security Council chambers I got cornered by this guy with crazy white hair. He cried, "It's terrible! It's simply terrible! Four of my pseudoscientists friends and I have formed twenty panels, meaning we are a hundred strong, and we've discovered that three-headedness will be sweeping the planet! Yes, that's what I said! It's coming, I tell you! Three-headedness! Three-headedness! Everywhere! Everyone will have three heads! It's a crisis! We must act now! Three-headedness! Three-headedness! Aren't you alarmed? Three-headedness!"
I said, "That
alarming. Will you show me your evidence?"
An OISE librarian displayed her sari in Mary's OISE art exhibition. According to Mary, she'd titled it "Sequincing," and the text of her artist's statement began, "In 1958, a bride in the Bengal was taught by her mother-in-law the art of sequincing...." In our regular restaurant, Mary told me they changed the words to "Sequencing ... sequencing." Mary told me sequencing involved stitching little metal circles into the cloth. "Like sequins," I said. "Sequins?" "They're little circles of coloured tin. I wonder if there's a connection. Does the word sequins have to do with the word sequence?" "The sequencer told
me the stitching was called sequencing. Or was she right in the first place, with sequincing?"
When we got home I got out the Webster's dictionary. I turned to the relevant page. "Sequin" had nothing to do with sequences. The word was Arabic in origin, not Bengal or Indian as I'd thought. Then I looked up the page to "sequence," which had a standard Latin origin. "No connection," I said. Then I noticed the word "sequencing" between the other two.
"Sequencing" is what a woman does when she puts off her career in order to have children. Origin not noted.
JOSEF AND THE ANTS
"I am an unbelievably sweet guy. Everyone knows that. (Everyone
to me, that is.) I open doors for near people. I'm so sweet it runs counter to ambition, that's how sweet I am.
"So I found that the only way to actualise my ambition was to place people at a distance. The further away they are, the less sweet I feel I need be.
"Maybe it correlates with gravitational formulas. (I'm no scientist.)
"It's the old joke: "They all look like ants from here."
"Go far to Vienna--
--and you'll see what I mean."
BEST OF THE WEB TODAY
In the long, long history of faggy projects, www.whatisstephenharperreading.ca has got to be the faggiest one of them all.
Roy told me about www.gpokr.com and I'm having a good time with it. I'm up to $60,000 right now.
I'm reading www.allmusic.com's account of
There's a Riot Goin' On
as I listen to it.
Hey! They can't be cashing their cheques from the Comintern anymore, so who's funding 'em? www.slowmovement.com
By the way, I have stories available. Here's where they be. www.vif.com/users/johnskaife/Website/
(Need some free porn? Check out www.myfreepaysite.com. [Cesar Cameirao told me about this one.])
Some times I find my self completely wasting my time thinking about things completely other than
here things. I get these little obsessive thoughts in my head, and I'm not capable of banishing them in order to free my voices and let them run around like wild horses. For example, today I kept on hearing Dwight Yoakum's
You're the One
over and over. How could I escape it? (I could have planned a parody, but it's such a pretty song I didn't want to parody it.) Indeed, friends, some times I find myself wasting my time thinking about work.
Found things, 2006-2007
"She's the man and I'm getting cigs for her."
British-style dress code in effect
OP NING SOON
Do Not Feed Pigeons, or Other Birds.
A-ha! Spotted! A beggar with a cell phone!
TO PURCHASE WORK, VISIT:
Room FoR Rent
CLOSe To All
"It was at the 401 and the Don, looked up, the moon was huge."
beef is climbing
in once-wet cement
Great low prices on domestic draft and rail shots
Save Save Save
Now that we're halfway to the end it's time to plan for next month and this is the idea I've got. I'm going to conduct an experiment. For the entire month, I will consume nothing but triple martinis. Yes, that's right, nothing but triple martinis. I'll keep an account of it for all to ponder. You see, there's all these scientists, mostly in the pockets of the alcohol industry, who avert that a drink a day is healthy. Are they so bought-and-paid-for as all that? If it's acceptable reasoning for Morgan Spurlock, it's good enough for me. Triple Martini May!
POLITICAL SONG FOR DAVID BYRNE TO SING
This is my house
With little blue curtains
This is not my house
But these are my curtains
My girlfriend's not here
She's down at the bakery
We need six buns
To feed our four guests
We're on TV
Thinking things about our mothers
See me live my life
Let me lend you my joystick
The sky is falling down! we're lost for words!
It's the shower we need! stay away from that awning!
Open this can
Take that toast from the toaster
Look at me move
I'm sleeping with the bearcubs
"If it feels good, do it, so long as you don't hurt anyone."
"Sounds like a non sequitur to me."
"It is wisdom."
"But what if it feels
good? Can I hurt someone just a little?"
"Then the second part has no relation to the first."
"So be it."
"It's really not thought out very well at all."
"Go away. I'm meditating."
"So am I. I do it aloud."
"Can I hurt people so long as it
"What if it feels
"Take that! And that!"
"Gardner! I am enlightened!"
The ones who hook you and captivate you totally.
The ones who make you do unreasonable things and take unneccessary risks.
The ones who start a spark and sparkle.
The ones who you think about late at night in the dark, when you're most alone.
The ones that are willing. "I want to."
The ones who say, "Sometimes I want to get caught."
The ones with red eyebrows. (Red does not signify danger by chance.)
The ones who, even with legs crossed, have their legs open.
The ones you can't keep from looking at, the ones with the open faces.
Grade five. The assignment was to write new lyrics to a song. I was teamed with a guy named Graeme. I wrote new words for the Queen ballad, "'39." I called it, "'64." When we tried to sing it, it was too complex and the recorder was whining with feedback. So we stole a song from Mad.
In class next day we all played our songs. Ours was barely audible, what with all the horrible feedback. When it was over, someone said, "You stole that from Mad!" and the teacher asked me, "Did you?" and I said, "No."
JOE'D HEARD or read somewhere that all the characters in a dream are simply psychological aspects of the dreamer. A common theory.
One night, Joe found himself in a room with someone he didn't know at all, a complete stranger. Joe thought,
What aspect can this character be illustrating?
The stranger turned and left the room. Joe followed, wanting to ask aloud this all-important question.
The stranger stopped in a long hallway. Joe asked, "What aspect of myself are you?"
The stranger took a deep breath and held it in. He started turning blue.
Joe woke up dead. He'd suffocated.
So I'm walking along the street, and there's nothing going on, and I wish I was at my destination already, and I stop and think: Why am I wishing that? what is so unsatisfying about just ... walking around?
Look at that mighty tree!
Listen to those red birds!
Smell that grass emerging!
Feel the ground beneath my feet!
but still I want to be where I'm going. And I think about what I should be doing; and I see that the purpose of movement is
finding something to eat
. I should be thinking about eating tree, birds, grass, ground.
FROM SWANK'S CARTOON SERIES,
1. Chuck and Krystal are at an airport. Ahead of them of the security station. Krystal's saying, "Oh, hey, look! They've got one of those newfangled x-ray machines that sees right under your clothes!"
2. Chuck has his hand down his pants. Motion lines are around his crotch, his tongue is sticking out sideways, and beads of exertion are popping from his forehead. Krystal's saying, "What are you doing?!"
3. Chuck's answering, "I'm getting ready for my close-up!" (Krystal is falling out of frame. Only her feet are visible. She's wearing very high heels.)
I overheard her collecting for the Yogathon scheduled for Sunday in the atrium of our office building. She didn't ask me for a pledge. I figured it was because she knew I was a skeptic.
On Sunday I worked (because I'd been scheduled to do so). I told my Sunday co-worker that X- was participating in the Yogathon. My co-worker didn't know that.
I looked down into the atrium a couple times, trying to spot X-. I couldn't, no matter how often I looked.
She was scamming people, and that's why she didn't ask me for a pledge. I'd
An NGO today released a document allegedly containing details about the RCMP's practice of transferring vampires to an English organization.
The document, if authentic, gives a glimpse into the often shadowy world of extragovernmental contracting. It was allegedly recieved via fax at the office of Dave Main, and it may corroborate other accounts.
"Is the government handing alleged vampires over to a subcontractor for their execution?" said MP Peter Dwight.
Parliament is not currently in session.
Ralph Arf of the Lycanthrope Society, an NGO, was quoted as saying, "This has me very concerned. I mean, who's next?"
I saw the smallest bulldozer today. It was so small it even had a handle on the side.
I guess the biggest problem for a chick in a wheelchair is that guys will always be looking down your top.
In the morning when I go out in my underwear to get the newspaper I throw on a shirt first. If it came down to it, at least I'd have a courtly defense.
I admired teachers, til I had some as friends and saw how fucked up that are. Same thing happened with doctors. Now it's happening with mothers.
The details of the co-incidence are thus:
Loose Booty, Sly and the Family Stone. (This was sampled by the Beastie Boys.)
Five days later, Johnny Cash. (
The Fourth Man in the Fire
's the name of that song.)
Then, next day, I'm reading
The Story of Art
, and there's a painting of them.
"I make a decree that every people, nation, and language, which speak any thing amiss against the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, shall be cut in pieces, and their houses shall be made a dunghill: because there is no other God that can deliver after this sort."
You're the son of God, you're completely aware of the fact. You know what your mission is here on earth, but you're a bit timid about starting what you know will end in your persecution and crucifixion. Then, you're at a wedding reception and they're out of wine.
What are your priorities, son? You know the trick of turning water into wine, and you've known it literally forever. You can do it. What happens if you don't? It would mean that marriage isn't a sacrament. You'd be caught in a contradiction concerning love. So what do you do?
"The [transit] credit will reward people already riding public transit, rather than move new people onto trains and buses."
Hey! Hear that? Prices
What a relief! Something costs $10, something's $100, who cares?
There's no such thing
as prices! Look, look at this Fabergé Egg! Look, look at my expense account! Everything's free, whoopie! Let's double all prices, let's
all prices! Matters not a whit....
Sorry sweetie, can't pay for the bj. Here's a
signed copy of my op-ed column!
Jeffrey Simpson would stand a chance at being taken seriously if'n he wasn't such a total dick.
As you all know, our house is going to be torn down soon, probably in just a few months. There was a hearing at the Ontario Municipal Board a couple weeks ago. We didn't go. However, my name came up at the end.
The developer's lawyers pulled a nifty trick. They'd discovered a Yahoo! group, and all its emails, and they quoted from one, and it was mine. I made reference to 'Guidos,' and 'DaCostaNostra.'
There were undoubtedly even nastier emails in that thread. So why did they read out mine?
It's simple. Ahem. Ahem.
Mine was the most poetic
JOHN SKAIF was son of an arithmeticker and a physique pedlar. From Jim Collinse I heare he was borne in 196
, in the towne of ... in country Durhame. He scholared but irregulare, in his towne and in New Yorke [sic: Toronto].
Memorandum: A great sotte. Cat. Tooke to wife ... MacDonell, of the easter provinces. A poetaster of some slighte merit. Kept a great librarie, given to Durhame. Catalogus Librorum: some collect of briefe peeces, some ... thousand in alle. Jim Collins hath them.
Dyed in 2034, and is buried with no inscriptione I know not where. Quaere loci.
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