Sunday, September 29, 2002

Wishing a Very Happy Birthday... TARA! I said it before, but I thought I'd say it again, the day-of. Hope you have a great day and get to spend it exactly how you'd like.

Oh, and by the way, my house is a nightmare right now. So....many....boxes.

Friday, September 27, 2002


I have a pile of topics I want to touch on in this post, so bear with me.

First off, Mike beat me to the punch on my Survivor commentary I was planning for today, which is cool. Check out his comments. I agree with what he says, it is getting heart-breaking to see the good-hearted, productive Chuay Ghan tribe get mashed under the steel-toothed tractor wheel that is the Sook Jai tribe....and we've only seen two episodes. I can only hope that their streak ends soon.

One of the things we were talking about last night though was the ass-backwards Survivor strategy that I'm-a-pretty-boy-dentist-so-you'd-better-worship-me Jed and I'm-a-firefighter-so-I-need-to-be-tough-to-the-point-of-idiocy Stephanie are using. It's rare in this show that survivors will willfully and with full knowledge alienate themselves from the tribe, especially this early in the game. I think the two of them are convinced that the brute strength they can bring to the challenges will save them from the chopping block. I don't think the others will look at it that way, but only time will tell if a) they have a strategy, and if b) it's going to work in their tribe. Frustration's one thing, but if you can't get along, you're headed down wash-out lane as fast as the rest of the tribe can get you there. Oh, and Jan's friggin' useless.

Next, I'm moving on Tuesday and I'm off work for the first three days of next week so we can have a stress-free move. So, I'm going to do my best to hop online and blog over that time period, but there probably won't be much in the way of updates from me until next Thursday.

Next, Stacey and I went to pick up the keys to the new place last night, and we're more certain than ever before that it's going to be a HUGE improvement over what we have now. Sometimes, you can't really tell until their stuff has been hauled out of there and you have a blank canvas to work with. Now we can see our furniture slotting into place and where we're going to hang the art and photographs. It's going to be even nicer when the owner goes in to do the painting.

Next, I'm in the same place Ian is today. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I didn't sleep a wink last night. Maybe it's subconscious stress about the move or maybe subconscious stress over the fistfuls of chinese food I gorged myself with earlier in the evening. Either way, something was preventing me. So today I have my eyelids propped up with toothpicks. They're pointy, but man, do they work. Every once in a while, a nice young man in a lab coat comes to put drops in my eyes. His name is Steve.

Finally, I have to stop blogging about TV shows. But I have to be honest with myself here, with the move and all, my whole non-working life in the last two weeks has been the odd TV show and stuffing junk into cardboard boxes. So I can't feel too bad.

Thursday, September 26, 2002

Ageism Has Always Baffled Me

Chel was the first person to make comments on the "flame-war" that recently popped up on the GW Forum recently. If you'd like to get up to speed on what I'm talking about, you should check out both of those links.

The gist of it is that some of the current staff said, "screw you old people....because you're old!" and then "buy us booze....because you're old!" along with a lot of unfounded assumptions based on their perception of our lofty age and reduced importance. And then some of the ex-staffers replied, saying "now, listen-here, you little whipper-snappers..." It's since been resolved, chalked up to "tongue-in-cheek" that struck a few nerves. Just jokes, no ill-will, everyone can sing "Kumbaya" now. But it got me thinking.

Ageism has always struck me as the stupidest form of discrimination out there (keeping in mind the fact that all discrimination is stupid). Unless something violent or accidental happens to you, you will be old one day. It's going to happen. And one day, you're going to die. The sad thing is, you spend your youth bragging about how indestructible you are and you spend your old age complaining about the rotten kids and how they don't respect their elders. It's a vicious cycle.

So my advice of the day to the young'uns: hug an old person. They were once just like you, even if they might smell kinda different. And to the old'uns: try not to get too upset when the young'uns screw up, because they can and will screw up more often than they'd like to admit. And laughing at them is so much more effective, anyway.

That's it. Sounds like a public service announcement, doesn't it? Don't drink and drive, kids! School is COOL!

Wednesday, September 25, 2002

CTV Hits a New Low

Stacey and I caught the inaugural episode of The Holmes Show last night. I was not impressed. It was the comedic equivalent of week-old rice pudding: it was bland, congealed, sludgy, foul, and left a terrible taste in my mouth.

In my time, I've been exposed to a great variety of Canadian comedy, and I would consider myself a firm supporter of the great majority of it. I'm still a huge fan of the Kids in the Hall and I periodically catch an episode of Air Farce or This Hour Has 22 Minutes. I've even been known to watch old, old re-runs of SCTV and Four on the Floor. Even The Red Green Show has made me laugh on the odd occasion.

This show didn't even make me smile. The only thing that's come even close to that I've seen in the past few years has been the first show of The Wayne Brady Show, a comedic abortion that fashioned itself as a Smothers Brothers' Comedy Hour for the new Millenium crossed with Whose Line is it Anyway?, except without all the people that made both shows funny.

I had to ask myself when watching it: can this really be as bad as I think it is? Is it possible that seeing that commercial for it with leading-lady Jessica Holmes' Liza Minnelli caricature over and over and over for three months has soured my potential enjoyment of the show to the point where only bitter, bitter bile still remains? It's not easy to answer that question. I tried to be objective, I really did. But I kept coming back to the same conclusion. I would rather watch a twelve-hour marathon of Mister Roger's Neighborhood than watch another half hour of this show.

The Holmes Show stars Ottawa-native Jessica Holmes, a Second City alumnus, Gemini-nominated comedienne and actress and winner 2001 Platinum Award at the Worldfest International Film Festival. It doesn't show in her latest work. She is accompanied by Kurt Smeaton, another Ottawa-kid and one of Stacey's classmates at Canterbury, and Roman Danylow, whoever he is (CTV claims that he's an actor/improv star--coulda fooled me). I'm not sure what was more awe-inspiring: the total lack of talent exhibited on the show or the fact that the CTV page for the show says they've signed on for twenty-two episodes. Is that a typo? Please, tell me it is!

Highlights, oh, there were highlights! How about Smeaton carrying on a seven-minute sketch in which he spends the first half yelling "what?" at a barking dog, and the second half yelling at a dead squirrel on a stick? How about Holmes, stumbling around and doing a bad impression of Liza Minnelli for ten minutes with only about 30 seconds worth of material? Even when we thought the skit was over and she was gone, she came back not once, not twice, but five times, shrieking at the dumbfounded children to follow her into the off-stage area. This was after berating the poor things with jokes about Michael Jackson abusing them and eating drugs off the floor. She tops off the sketch by lying semi-comatose against a desk after chugging sherry from a flagon. High comedy?

Wait, there's more. Holmes has a homemaker/bible-thumper character, Candy, who attacks homosexuals, promotes "segregation cookies" (with the chocolate cookies seperated from the other cookies), and makes a number of other controversial slurs. In another skit, she resorts to an accent that can normally only be attributed to brain damage (which she claims as her impression of Jennifer Tilley) while spastically jabbing at a wig with some combs on an egg beater. When the skit started to flop, she jammed a comb between her breasts, stammered and/or forgot her next twelve lines, and took fifteen seconds of air-time to recompose herself when she couldn't speak (let alone act), leaving Danylow to try and pick up the pieces. Now, I'm all for pushing the envelope from time to time....but make it funny! I couldn't tell if it was the material that was awful or their delivery. I suspect that it was both.

CTV calls The Holmes Show "a hilarious, edgy, Carol-Burnett-style sketch comedy." I call it "a fecal-ridden lead balloon that would need a NASA solid-fuel booster to get it off the ground...oh, and Carol, I'd be calling my lawyers to check into the current slander laws." I guess only time and the ratings will tell which one of us is right in the end.

Tuesday, September 24, 2002

Birthday Bumps

It's Chel's Birthday today! Check your hotmail for a surprise I sent you....

Monday, September 23, 2002

Having Trouble Deciding What to Wear?

Might I recommend a meat hat? Tasty!

Roll Crawl...Cue Star Wars Theme...cue Tantive IV...cue....

This is the coolest thing ever. This has me drooling and running around in circles and getting all cross-eyed all at once, and it's giving me a splitting headache.

This is...the coolest. Maybe even cooler than the lightsabers Chel was talking about. I have to have one....and it's going to cost me a *mint*.

The lego Imperial Star Destroyer. Time to start saving the pennies.

"Look down....look waaaaaay down...and you'll find Rusty!"

Rusty's a rooster, don'tcha know....

My little hit counter at the bottom of the site, as inaccurate as it sometimes appears to be, just hit the big 1K. A big thank-you to everyone for visiting my site!

Friday, September 20, 2002

Antonio Monkerro's Top-10 Winamp Playlist

This is what I'm listening to these days, in case you're interested. There're a lot of people's influences showing in this list.

10) House: My sister's been getting big into house music lately, and she's been filling my music folder with all kinds of great stuff, too many DJs to mention. Awww....c'mon.... don't twist my arm. Okay, I'll mention some of my favourites: Shy FX, Masters at Work, Sasha, Goldtrix, Superfunk, SZ, Daniel Bedingfield, and Starchaser, to name a few.

9) The Hives VENI, VIDI, VICIOUS!: This album is the best car music ever. It has a permanent place in the tape deck of my rusted-out junker of a car, which only has one working speaker. It still sounds hella good.

8) The Strokes - Is This It?: Unless you've been living in a cave, you've heard of The Strokes. They're huge. It took me a while to get into them through a very unexpected path, but here I am. I think they're pretty cool. "Hard to Explain" kicks so much ass.

7) Filter - The Amalgamut: easily one of the best little-known discs of the season. Although they had a minor top-40 radio hit with their song "Where do We Go From Here," the album's been struggling to catch on. I highly recommend it, though, as a complete album experience. Filter seems to have turned a page after their last album and have returned to their roots.

6) Bombay the Hard Way: This one is weird, but it didn't take as much getting used to as I thought it would. Beltzner warmed me up to this's funky, smooth, well mixed and edited, and ingenious. Who'd have thought that the soundtrack to a 70's Bollywood spy thriller could be so cool? This one's for open-minded people with a penchant for music with a beat.

5) Doves - The Last Broadcast: This particular album is new on my playlist, but I've already fallen for one of the singles, "There Goes the Fear." The rest of the album seems really, really, good so far, but I haven't had enough time to get used to it. I can tell that I'll be humming the tracks in my head in no time.

4) Boxcar Racer: Blink-182 side-project and one of the best punk CDs I've listened to in a long, long time. Imagine Blink-182 with a much more adult mentality and perspective. I suspect that this will be one of my favourites for many years to come.

3) Tomahawk: Mike Patton's new band. I have only listened to their album a few times, but I'm already convinced this band is simply awesome. So much better than the live performance I saw back in August. If you enjoyed Faith No More's King for a Day, you'll eat this one up with a spoon. More accessible than Mr. Bungle, but a whole lot darker.

2) Coldplay - A Rush of Blood to The Head: Everyone by now should know what Coldplay's capable of. A truly solid album that outdoes its predecessor, Parachutes. Brilliant music.


1) Muse: I've already said it. They're awesome. All three albums. Buy them now.

Wackiness Can and Will Strike Twice in One Day

Today is certainly building up to be a blast-from-the-past day. I bumped into friend and former GW-editor Jess Aldred today on Bank Street, half a block from where I work! It turns out she lives in Ottawa now, doing some more school and she's getting married! Whew! So there you go, one more incentive for you GW folk to come visit Ottawa some time. Jess and I are going to go for some Pan-Galactic Gargleblasters in the near future and you're all welcome to join us anytime you want.


Another friend from the Golden Words/Queen's days has re-emerged! This time, it's everyone's favourite exploding-heads-artist, Mike "Shaggy" Donaldson. Marvel at his portfolio of work since leaving Kingston here. I can honestly say, he's one of the most talented artists I have ever known.

Thursday, September 19, 2002

New Quiz, in Honour of my Discovery of Zwan

Your wardrobe is kind of plain, and everyone around
you is shooting heroin, but that's okay, because you
finally took care of that mop you once referred to as
hair. It's smooth sailing from here.
Which Era of Billy Corgan are you?

Wednesday, September 18, 2002

I'm a bloggoholic Today

Too many messages to people, and too few people online today....

Mike Beltzner: Congrats on your promotion! If you put even a quarter of as much energy into your job now as you put into your work back in Kingston, they should have promoted you a long time ago.

Ian: I think you should declare Mike "Batman of the Month" for October for his big sleuthing involved, but it's still cool. And Batman's is cool, as well as a master sleuther. And congrats to you on owning your own're further ahead than me on that one, buddy.

Chel: The Superman Lovers are I owe you one and Matej one for finding kick-ass bands. And yes, I'm getting the bust, one way or another. And no, I don't mean breasts, for those of you with your minds in the gutter.

Mike Chaiton: Don't think I haven't been checking your blog every day! Great to hear you've settled in okay. Next time there's another cool band in town let me know.....aww, who am I kidding? There's always good bands playing there. I just frickin' love The Flashing Lights.


This is something my sister sent me. They'll sell anything on E-bay, these days.

The Osbournes

The Osbournes have made their big debut on CTV primetime. I have to admit I was curious about this show. What's the attraction? Is it as funny as they say? Do I really need to know the nuts and bolts of Ozzy's dysfunctional personal life?

Having watched the first two episodes of the show, the answers to my questions are a) I can't explain it, b) yup, funny, in a gruesome, "what the fuck?" kind of way, and c) no, not at all, but they must be one of the strangest families in Hollywood, and if they aren't, it's one screwed up place.

The first episode involved their move into their new house, complete with cardboard boxes with "dead things" and "devil heads" written on the side, and Ozzy running around looking for a rifle so he could attach the bayonet he "found" to its muzzle. Viewers were also offered the treat of Ozzy, cross-eyed, strung out and drooling on himself, mashing at a remote control with his twisted fingers and yelling profanities at the TV screen when he couldn't get it to work. And who could forget his ham-headed son, Jack, running around pretending to be GI Joe, with full combat webbing and helmet? Oh wait, it gets he's stabbing cardboard boxes with the aforementioned bayonet! I mean, come on! Sure, I dressed up as Batman when I was a kid, but I was five! He's 16!

By the second episode, I was getting a little tired of it. The initial "this is so fucked up that it's making me laugh" reaction was soon replaced with a feeling of "this is so fucked up that it's starting to turn my stomach." In this gem of an episode, the family went into an in-depth expose on the defecatory and urinary habits of their wide variety of small yappy dogs. For me, the highlight was when the bulldog crapped on the carpet near the back door of their home. I can't say that I've ever really watched a dog crapping on TV before. I'd rather not see it again, thanks. I know they crap, I've cleaned up after crapping dogs personally, but when you're all curled up on the couch trying to unwind after a busy day, who wants to see that? The real highlight for me was Ozzy sitting up at the kitchen counter in a terrycloth bathrobe, painting a paint-by-numbers set of a sad clown. Prince of darkness, indeed.

One has to wonder how Sharon, the foul-mouthed mother, puts up with the rest of them. Ozzy's so cracked out that I swear he has to wear diapers. His daughter, Kelly, throws a screaming fit every thirty seconds, and if she isn't screaming, she's usually opening her big fat mouth and spewing idiocy. And Jack's a complete ass. That pretty much sums him up. Their house is full of the most gaudy crap I've ever seen in one place at one time. "How about a six foot model of the Eiffel Tower, all in glass beads?" "Where do I sign?" "You know what would really make this room work? A giant gold crucifix!" "Whoa, you're so right!" Meanwhile, the army of yappy dogs tears all their furniture to shreds. Ah, the lives of the rich and mind-numbingly stupid.

If you're curious, check it out, although I'd recommend keeping it to one episode, if you do. Half an hour's worth is about my threshold. It's absolutely insane, but you can't help but laugh at them, if not with them. I guess that's the whole point, really.

....and they call it ZWAN

Billy Corgan. Jimmy Chamberlin. New band. New album coming out when they can find a label that suits their new underground image. There are live MP3 tracks floating around if you know where to look.

Holy crap. Time to run around in circles....

Tuesday, September 17, 2002

The Final Stretch

My life is officially in disarray....two measly weeks until the big move, and it's turning into a much greater undertaking than I had first assumed. I've never done a move like this without my mother, master of organization that she is....a whole three bedroom house. When Stacey and I moved into our current house, we did it in two parts, with me moving in first and Stacey moving in later, so the volume of stuff we were moving was divided in two parts, too. Since then, we've managed to accumulate another few vanloads of junk in bits and pieces....I had no idea we had so much *stuff* until it started going into boxes.

But last night, the first of the downstairs furniture came toppling to the ground. I took apart the dining room table to free up the dining room for stacking boxes. We already know that the move is going to be expensive...any money we can save, bringing boxes downstairs to save on time, we're going to do it. And soon enough, we'll be sealing up the truck and starting on the long haul down the 417 to Kanata.

Packing can be an emotional thing. There's something satisfying yet vaguely melancholy about sealing your stuff up in cardboard boxes. There's the feeling of accomplishment ("hey, I just put my entire first three year's worth of university textbooks in one box! Master packer, that's me!"), but also the feeling of loss ("what, I couldn't get the fourth year in there, too? Now I have to start a new box...") and the feeling of screaming pain ("Agggggghhh!! My back!"). I guess it's the idea that all your stuff can be reduced to a few sheets of wood and some nondescript brown cube boxes that makes it kind of melancholy. But all that gets washed away when you start fresh in the new place.

Tonight I'm probably going to take apart a desk and make a big dent into the stuff in the kitchen cupboards. Wish me luck.

Monday, September 16, 2002

A Blog Oddity

Did anyone else notice that blogger went all funky this morning? Like, when I refreshed my blog, my URL brought me to the blog of some guy in India? It happened a couple of times. And a few other people had my blog for ransom, including this guy, who mentioned my page by name. Maybe it's all part of someone's evil plan to get people closer together. I blame a conspiracy of postal workers in Argentina. No real reason, just because I need to blame someone.


Ian has declared me September's "Batman of the Month." I wholeheartedly accept the honour. I haven't been Batman since I was five years old, terrorizing my neighbourhood with my dark cowl and cape and shouting "POW!" and "BIFF!" and "KA-BLAMMO!!" at the top of my lungs. While all the other kids were playing baseball or football or tag, I was pretending to be a superhero. I used to wear my costume in malls and grocery stores, too. It sort of explains a lot about me, doesn't it?

Sunday, September 15, 2002

A Good Friend Re-emerges From the Ether....

Well, I'll be a monkey's cousin's grandma! Guess who's blog I just found? Mr. Ian J. Neufeld, trusted Golden Words compatriot, "office"-hider, and esteemed inspector of wallets. Turns out he's had a blog all this time and didn't say a peep about it! Marvel at his daily thoughts here.

And yes, Ian does indeed rock.

Friday, September 13, 2002


Hey. Just wanted to let you know about a show tonight at Bumper's Roadhouse (580 Bank Street, near the Queensway). The Riptides are having their CD release party there tonight, and it's guaranteed to be a cool show. Plan to show up around 9:30....I'll be by the bar, having a few pints. Hope to see some of you there, too.

Oh, by the way, the Somatik show at the same club has been cancelled. Be on the look-out for another Somatik show at a club near you in the near future.

Wednesday, September 11, 2002

In Entertainment News...

It's official, according to the Russian Space Agency. Lance Bass of N*Sync will not, repeat: NOT, be going into outer space. The delivery mission to the International Space Station scheduled for October will proceed as planned, with a cargo case full of extra supplies filling Lance's flight seat in the Soyuz module...further proof that Lance's mission objective was to look pretty and, at all costs, avoid touching anything. As it turns out, the media moguls who were going to back Lance's Space Odyssey stiffed the Russians on the bill. Read more in this article here. Take special note of this picture of Lance staring blankly, yet with a mysterious glint in his eye, at a laptop, or "simulated ISS workstation." Ten bucks says he was playing Minesweeper just moments before those scientist types entered the room....

In other news (and this may make Chelsea cry): Lucas is planning on releasing an IMAX version of Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, but only in North America, according to CNN. Sooooooo coooool. I just hope that it makes it to the theatre here in Ottawa at the National Museum of Civilization. Read all about it here. Apollo 13 will also be released, with a few others to boot. I'm gonna be first in line.

Flags at Half-Mast

Lest we forget: today is the 1-year anniversary. And let's pray that we won't have to go through anything like it again.

Another Baby Blog Comes Kicking and Screaming into the World

Here it is, Sara Wisking's blog. Sara's a friend from way back in the highschool days, and although we haven't seen much of each other in the last little while, we've still kept in touch via Messenger and the like. Right now she's in Law School at some kind of University-resembling structure of some description. Check it out, although she's threatening to only update it on Tuesdays.

Tuesday, September 10, 2002

What's That, Up in the Sky?

Last Saturday, Stacey and I were maxing out in front of the TV watching Batman for the 300th time, because it happened to be on TV. We had spent the day baking in the sun at a colossal yard sale organized by the city, and it was *crawling* in people. Calling it a "zoo" would be an understatement; there were literally thousands of people there. I've never been very good at these things....somehow, I just can't bring myself to bodily fling people away from vendor's tables to get my sweaty little hands on a ten cent necklace or pair of rusty old figure skates. Go figure. Anyway, we got a few odds and ends that caught our eyes and ended up with a mild case of heat exhaustion that pole-axed our energy levels for the rest of the day. But, I digress.

We were watching Batman, reveling in Jack Nicholson's deliciously maniacal performance as the Joker, when we were startled by someone hammering on our front door. After peeling ourselves off the ceiling and rubbing the pointy-plaster marks off our cheeks, we answered the door, and found our ten-year-old neighbour, Jessica, looking terrified.

"What's wrong?!" Stacey asked her.

"HURRYHURRYCOMEQUICKYOUWON'TBELIEVEWHAT'SHAPPENING!!!" she shrieked, and bolted off into the darkness, into the central court in front of our townhouse.

Stacey, thinking that there's a fire or little Timmy's trapped in the well, bolts after her. Me, I decide to hang back and turn the TV off before following. As I approach the door, Stacey's head reappears from behind it. "Hurry! HURRY!! You have to see this, baby!" Now I'm all freaked out. I come tripping out the front door with one sandal on my foot and the other in my hand, nearly falling flat on my face. I fumble with my keys to lock the door, only to give up and risk leaving it unlocked.

At this point, I'm expecting something extraterrestrial. We're talking a big mother flying saucer or something. I'm already regretting not sending away for my real, working, 100% guaranteed Ray Gun in my He-Man comic book all those years ago. All that I really have that qualifies as planetary defence weapons are a pair of suspiciously real-looking cap guns and an aluminum baseball bat....hardly an impressive arsenal against an army of lizard-men with acid for blood.

I actually wasn't far off. It was extraterrestrial.

"Look up," Stacey said.

Above us was the most beautiful thing....long strands of wispy, coloured, translucent light stretching across the sky. They surrounded the court like a dome, far up above, higher than any cloud I'd ever seen at night. The bands shimmered and moved seductively, with faint highlights in red and green and purple.

"It's the Northern Lights," she said. "I've seen them before and they were brighter, but they're so cool."

Stacey may have been a little more nonchalant about it than I was, but we spent the next half hour or so with our neighbours, with our heads cocked back, mouths agape, and our bodies pressed together, marveling at the light show up above. And it was amazing. Far better than any firework display, and my tax money doesn't pay for it. We stayed out there until the last few traces of light had vanished from the sky, talking with neighbours, enjoying the cool evening air, indulging in a few cigarettes and playing a brief, impromptu game of "I've got your hat, gotta chase me for it".

Man, I love Fall.

Friday, September 06, 2002

What the Hell is Wrong With People?

I suppose this was supposed to be funny. It isn't. Some people have far too much time on their hands.

I propose we smack these screwballs back to the dark ages. Anyone with me?

Friday Musings

If anyone loves Radiohead pre-OK Computer as much as I do, check out a band called "Muse" from the UK. It's an absolutely unbelievable band, one of the best I've come across in a long time. When Radiohead zigged and went down an inaccessible, experimental path with their music, Muse zagged and built on the foundations that Radiohead built with Pablo Honey and The Bends. Their music is hard to find in North America, but it's definitely worth the effort. I couldn't recommend them more. They have two albums (Showbiz and Origin of Symmetry) and a 2-disc b-sides compilation with live concert tracks (Hullabaloo). Trust me: find them, buy them, download them, whatever, you won't be disappointed.

Thanks to Matej for letting me know about this band. I owe you one, buddy.

Thursday, September 05, 2002

And Now For Something Completely Different...

Tomorrow, I am going to a funeral in Montreal. This will be the fourth funeral I have attended, and the third that I didn't know the's for the mother of one of my co-workers, a man that I truly respect and care a great deal for.

No here's my dilemma. I've never been very good at knowing what to say....I can't say she was a wonderful person, since I've never met her (although I'm sure she was!). I can say "sorry" or "my condolences to you and your family," but everyone says that. Or I could say nothing at all, and risk looking like Rudey McRude-Pants. Beats me.

If anyone has advice, please let me know. I'm awful at these things.


My Quote

I wonder if this one's already been taken? I haven't read it, if it has. Anyway, here's today's chance to be a little bit deep, and you can quote me on this:

"When only two people vote and disagree, it's not a democracy, it's an argument."
Andrew Limmert, 1977 -

The last bit is a little bit of show-off-y-ness.

Punk Rawk

Hey, a brief plug for my buddy Charles' band: SOMATIK. They're up-and-coming in the Ottawa punk community. Check out their next show at BUMPERS ROADHOUSE (580 bank street) in Ottawa on October 4th. Of course, this may be difficult for those of you outside a two-hour radius. I suggest you book your airline ticket right away! You can also check out their website here.

I also recently found out that another friend of mine, Jay, has been recruited by one of the best known-punk bands in Montreal and perhaps even the rest of Canada: Reset. For those of you who know punk, this is a semi-big deal. He'll be playing guitars for them....learn all about the band at this poor unofficial website here.

Wednesday, September 04, 2002

I Declare...

I declare today, September 4th, 2002, INTERNATIONAL ANTI-PROCRASTINATION DAY! The last few weeks have been a swirling maelstrom of distractedness, lack of enthusiasm, and non-stick-to-itive-ness, and that will all change today! Today I will do everything in my limited power to do some work on my comic book, submit my expenses form to my boss, write an angry letter to the landlord because he's trying to rip us off, do some more packing for my move, and bug-bomb the back of my house where an army of ants invades my living room through a crack under the patio door. It's a lofty goal, but no more will I be held back by a total lack of motivation! I am master of my desire to procrastinate!

In fact, I won't even check my favourite daily web sites. Nope! I'm not even going to think about movies and entertainment sites like Coming Attractions, Rotten Tomatoes, or The Smoking Gun. Nay, the likes of hilarious comedy magazines like The Big Jewel and The Onion hold no sway over me! Begone, FBTB and TheForce.Net! Your luscious Star Wars and Lego content are meaningless to me! And who has time for online cartoon strips like PVP and Bob the Angry Flower? Certainly not me.

Awww, shucks, maybe I'll just check them for a little bit. Then DOWN TO WORK!

Tuesday, September 03, 2002

Autumn Reflections

You can smell's in the air. Fall. The air's starting to turn crisp, the evenings and nights are cool, the oversized, thick IKEA duvet is back on the bed, and every once in a while, you can detect the faintest hints of wood smoke in the air, wafting up from a neighbour's fireplace. I have always considered Fall to be my favourite season and a time when I'm at my best, but it's also slightly melancholy. It's a time of regeneration, of taking chances, because winter's on its way and I know it's going to be miserable.

This morning I was reminded of another end-of-summer reality: the beginning of the school year. Ever since graduation from university, September's felt a little strange. Like a lot of other people, I defined the start of my year as the first day of school, not New Year's Day. If someone said "last year," I would find myself thinking in school-year-sized chunks, with a vague limbo zone, in between "years," representing the summer months. This is the third "Frosh Week echo" I've experienced, and it still affects me. Maybe it always will.

I have to admit that I got used to the summer. It happens every year. The relaxed atmosphere is especially telling when it comes to the commute, with light traffic on my way to the park-and-ride and an easy job of finding a free seat on the bus. This morning, however, everything changed. There was a steady flow of nervous students inching their way up my street towards the two schools that are beside my townhouse, keeping me from merging with traffic for a good five minutes. There were more cars on the road, with a distinct rise in the number of minivans meandering along their way, with kindergarteners and grade-schoolers firmly strapped into the back seats. The formerly deserted bus station was crawling with people. There was a fifty-person line-up at the ticket window, preventing me from buying my new bus pass. I opted for paying the $2.25 instead....I'll buy mine later. And then the bus was back to being a human cattle-car, flooded with clashing odours of perfume, hairspray, and sweat and packed with the gloomy, scowling visages of commuters heading back to their desk jobs and classes after a long vacation.

But I suppose it's all worthwhile when the trees start turning, painting the hills and laneways around where I live with fiery oranges, yellows and scarlets. A time to keep my trusty Canon camera and telephoto lens close at hand to capture the poignant moments of this brief, colourful season. A time to wear my suede jacket, my fleece vest, and my jeans and sweaters again. A time for holding hands with my girlfriend on long walks, shuffling our feet though the leaves and staring into each other's eyes, surrounded by the beauty of nature and bright, festive foliage. A time for curling up in front of our new fireplace at our new house and appreciating the little things in life.

And sometimes you realize that it's the little things that matter most.