We are always on the edge of something bigger than...

Meant to be reading about OBJECTS and HISTORY of what we called AMERICAN INDIANS in 2006. Instead I am browsing the interweb.

(Andrew Young, Vancouver)
They painted our front door black. I am waiting for some symbol of witchcraft to follow.
No news really. Weant to see Matt and the Muellers last night. Was rewarded with two extra members of the household. One with fake redhair and a Lithuanian accent, the other with a broken heart and a complete lack of propriety that leads him to leave his undies in the middle of other people's living rooms.
Night before I drank and drew with one friend and about nine strangers: the subject moved from batman to Blue Buck to sheep etc etc.
Purchased two disposible cameras and came home to find another one lewdly splayed on my bed.
Currently feeling the anxiety that I relate to expressing by opinion outloud in a circle oriented classroom.

We need to lack the cold toes.

I need a lack of cold toes. My knees are sore. My eye lids are itchy. This room represents something I want right now. Something warm ,  inviting and clean. You know how cold and dirty my own room is right now? Very. Maybe I should make some tea, do some cleaning. 

Tonight I went to band practice. Nothing much happened. I was actually really bored near the end and wished I secretly brought a book to read. I'm actually reading a couple of them right now, but I think the one I would have brought with me would have been... Danger! Do not Shake the Coconut Tree, by Murray Laidlaw. Turns out this guy is a local author, and the only reason I know this, is because in the introduction he talks about Qualicum Beach.

How weird is that though? Qualicum beach. They found this tree at the end of this gravel road, and that is how the entire chapters starts out. "Although a maple, it looked like a coconut and in the fall when it shed it;s leaves, it actually shed its branches as well,  by frost, winds and the assistance of a handsaw." Cute huh? I have a feeling its going to be one of those books where it's going to be a bunch of short stories that somehow connect to themselves in the end for a grand finale. I hate it though that it;s become a theme in movies to do that. Valentines Day sucked balls.

Anyways, tonight, I'm leaving you with a personal bit of my mental being right now and a rap song. The bit of mental being is that I'm really grateful that I can have just pure laughs and not feel like a idiot when I'm talking to c-man kurosh (which is apparently how it should be right?). The rap song is from a duo in vancouver, http://sickvicious.com/ listen to number 7, it's my favorite.!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WELCOME BACK TYSON-TAIS -TOI

Every Saint Gets a Paid Vacation

Listening to indie rap. What a novelty! 

Right now I feel like I am forty and yet I am still sitting on the floor with the remnants of my sandwich dinner a twelve page syllabus for this seminar that looks pretty labour intensive. I guess my life has not gone as far as I thought it would in four decades. 

In my Renaissance class there is a Philosophy grade student named Matt who sits in sometimes. He has a prominent under bite. 

While sitting at a booth for UNICEF trying to encourage peppy first years to sign my sheet of paper I caught a glimpse of a guy I met in Mexico two years ago. I also saw a girl that I sat beside for two classes in first year Italian, though I can still remember her name and where she is from. 

I often wonder how other people deal with situations like that. You remember some one, you know exactly where from and yet its been so long that you feel weird about saying hi...

Today in my laundry room I found a bag of empty beer cans and one of those caps with the spinning wings attached to the top, helicopter style. Needless to say that I wore it for a while. The chinstrap was surprisingly loose.

I think what I need is some fresh air. Maybe fresh water. I miss the summer already. 

Sorry to be a downer. Not even sure if this is making sense. 

As a household we are making a concentrated effort to not be negative, to be pleasantly surprised at all times. Today I was pleasantly surprised when... 

I was invited over for birthday cake and batman cartoons for tomorrow evening.

Gonna have to prop my eyelids up with toothpicks if I'm going to finish this reading.

Muscle and Flow

Hi girls.

Sat through 3 classes. Learned a Suffi poem that is not at all relevent to THIS situation but can be found on a princesses tombstone from 1584 in deep South East Asia. I wrote it in my notebook.
Listen. Verily the world is perishable, the world is not everlasting. Verily the world is like a web woven by a spider.
I like this a lot- even if it is a bit defeatist. At the same time it is...comforting. Don't worry because some overweight guy in a ball cap is gonna put his foot through your world anyday now... It's a HUGE day.
I'm in a weird mood because I spent the last 40 minutes talking to my strongest most fearsome friend who was crying his eyes out over lost love and broken hearts. It is difficult to relate as I have only ever learned of heartache through pop songs and romantic tragedies. One day a tall man with a well groomed mustache and a gentle french accent will sweep me away by the pelvis. He will leave me soon after with a heart in tatters and a mysterious smell in my house.
On a less sexual note, the painter of our house (now purple, pics to follow one day) gave me his card today after we got to talking.
This is he: http://www.brushflow.com/
Which is funny because the last artist I met was named Steve also.

Also funny is this story that Alan told us today in class. He said he was in this Italian cultural center in Montreal that was built when Mussolini was everyone's fav. On the walls were non-figural symbols for fascism. He went across the street and through this little park with trees (drew a map on the blackboard) and on the ceiling of the copola there was, on one side, Mussolini and his minions who were smiling at, on the other side, the pope and his cardinals. A little bit horrified, Alan goes across the street and to some coffee shop to cool down. On the walls there were pictures of Mussolini and his bros looking all glorious and propped up by rampant propaganda. Anyway.
Mussolini was Time Magazine's Man of the Year in 1934.

I stole the globe and mail and I don't feel bad about it.

Today is going to be a long day. How do I know? Because I've been up for three hours so far and it's just dragging. I've walked, I've been for a run, I tried to learn the lyrics to a french song, I read a chapter of "european architecture", under my john keats persona, I found out that spanish isn't a prominent language of choice in the great land of australia. I've replied to emails and now I'm here, just sitting here. I don't know what to do.

http://hypem.com/#!/item/1696k/Baja+Marimba+Band+-+Walk+On+By%2A
I'll tell you a story though. Imagine you were in the marimba garage on a normal sunday practice night. It's starting to feel like normal again, for the sun is gone before your practice is done. We have a new member, and the garage door was open. The air was warm enough for us to do so. A mother and a young child and big down walks down the drive way and smiles, thanks us for the wonderful evening music. They stay for a while and watch from the sidelines. Now, here is the fun bit. A man by the name of Ken came by. He looked happy enough. Tanned, and retired. Had a slight quebec accent and to distract him from his bantings, I was going to ask him if it was the accent I presumed. But I didn't. The man wouldn't let a word from anyone in. At least five times he said the statement and idea about what this band of musical youth should do. Were we interested in cruise ship shows? That we should really be interested in cruise ship shows. All of us, as a band should do this. He wanted to take a video of us playing right there and then. He wanted to sent it off to vegas and tell his son who also works on the boats as a dancer to give it to his big time employers. Now let me tell you guys about his son. And I only know all of this because he repeated this no lie, at least five times. Each time pointing to a different girl in the room, and focusing on her and how much she would love his son. His son is 21. He's blond. He resembles a rougher type. He's a dancer and he really knows his craft. He's been dancing on the boat for three years and in his right eye there is a twinkle that makes all the ladies melt, lacking knees. First time he said that, we all smiled and thought it was cute. What a hilarious father. After the 5th time, it was eye rolling and mother fahlon telling him to go away, we needed to practice. He stayed anyways. It was a gong show. And every time he started talking, we had to butt in as fast as we could, say which song we were going to play, explain the parts and play. As fast and as loud as we could so we could halt any attempt of him making conversation. It was hilarious.

Anyways laura, tell me if or whenever you want your rabbit back.

That dog is great though.

This building alone is neat concept. But in everyday life, how useful really is that plastic bit over the top? Over here, I think it would be completely useless. Unless you gathered land that had no trees bigger then the building it self, and in an area that no bird would ever poop on it - then it would be cool. Except we don't live there. So what's my solution to this conundrum? Thanks for asking babe. Take that plastic off, be smart with how you manage the spacial quality of the roof top and be creative. Too bad there isn't a whiteboard application on this blog so I can show you quickly this super plan for a blueprint of the roof. I'm too lazy to go to paint. Anyways...

Got rich today busking. Apparently someone painted a picture of the band in the old school house. apparently it's tiny too. I wanted to go check it out, but I got a free ride home.  A man also gave us free cinnamon buns at the market. It was melty gooey, and I had to pass it on as quickly as I got it. One bit, thats all.

Is it hot down in victoria? Here it is. I've been living of chocolate milk and tomato sandwiches.

This is what I want right now. Nightlife, silly girls around me and male-friends, dressed too hip for the town, running around, trying to catch the last subway run of the night. It's a good way to block out the world si?

And then I want to wake up to this. BAM!  Isn't that beautiful? Wouldn't it be great, if the door on the left lead to something like a slightly furnished trail, aged with a billion years? And then that trail lead to a waterfall..

like this?! with snow?! True story though. I went hiking with Carmanagh and Elizabeth there and had a picture just feet from the falls.We had bread and cheese and grapes and lemonaid. It was cute. We then drove downtown, I bought some architectural books (that book store with the basement was having a 25% off sale!yes!) and took the bus home. It was a sunny day, and it lacked a dog.

We're playing at the qualicum beach farmers market this saturday morning and the night prior apparently we have a marimba sleepover.

Shits going down with cyrus right now, it's like this whole relationship is a joke.

We Stand For the Neighbourhood.

News of the day in order of occurance:
1) T-boned a car on my bike while riding to work. Not entirely anyones fault here. I was in his blindspot, he didn't signal in time, I should have stopped faster. Still though. He didn't stop to see if I was dead the big jerk
2)Worked my last real summer shift. My boss admitted that she hired me because I was studying art history, not for any other real reason.
3) Went to school with the "couple" from down the road. We saw the largest wave of people I have ever seen walking in one direction. It made me uncomfortable to say the least.
Not really anything else going on. My boss bought us tickets for this ska show tomorrow night as an end of season bonus.
This summer I have had more champagne and group hugs then any other.
I need to prepare myself for the school year. One of my profs asked us to bring rulers pencils erasers and scissors to class. This sounds like crafts to me.

Water and Wine and a Boy Who Won't Text Back

I am sorry to hear about Gilbert. Seagulls seem to have a predisposition towards dying in unfortunate ways, probably because there are so many of them living in such close proximity to humans. I had a seagull named Napoleon a long time ago; I have a vague memory of my mom wearing hideous aquamarine shorts and jumping into the lake in order to save him from a bald eagle. He ate a lot of mayflies.

It's too bloody dark in this apartment, but today was lovely and sunny. I bought CLOTHES, including a DRESS, and will wear it TOMORROW.

Listen to this:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=sbgliL3eceE
They are coming to Sugar sometime soon, and it would be nice to see them, but every time I make music plans life seems to get in the way.