 |
MOPERY:
A violation of an imaginary law or rule; such as indecent exposure in front of a blind woman.
|
Index
Jake & Ray
Links
Okinawan Escapades
The Shikoku Intrusion
Thought
2001
December
November
October
September
August
July
June
May
April
March
February
January
2000
December
October
September
August
July
June
May
|
New Years Day, 2002Moving very slowly. That is all.
January 5, 2002 Picture this:
A large pitch of azure astroturf with black rubber runways stretching its entire length, punctuated with white hurdles at regular intervals. Along these runways, border collies run at full tilt, leaping effortlessly over each hurdle only to eventually smash headfirst into a wall before turning around and racing back to their waiting masters. Repeat, ad nauseum, until one hound is granted the laurels of victory and their master collects a cheque for a large sum of money.
This is being televised live on ESPN, and for some godforasken reason, I'm watching it - after spending X hours watching countless other banalities over the course of an evening.
Television is evil.
January 8, 2002 
Some new pictures of yours truly, courtesy Berto and his fancy-ass camera. Enjoy, and try not to get too excited - it's asking a lot, I know. Something to consider as you contemplate my cheerful countenance - a large percentage of recent photos of me feature two distinct characteristics: cigarettes and sunglasses. Still determining how I feel about that. I've been very disappointed with my mass media so far this year. Driving back down from Manning Park with my sister after an afternoon of snowboarding (preceded by an evening of mayhem with some of her coworkers from the Washington Avenue Grill), we tuned into the only available radio station and were treated to a selection of the 'Best songs of 2001' as chosen by devout listeners throughout the Rockies. I'm fairly sure that the DJ just put the same song on repeat for a half hour or so. Formulaic pop rock - there has to be somebody we can blame.
Of course, I could just be tired and ornery as I write this. Not that I find mass media any more appealing when I'm well-rested, I might just have a little more tolerance for the picayune when my bones aren't quite so weary. Or I might not.
January 9, 2002 Finally decided to get Jake & Ray on the go. It's the story I was serial writing for the good ol' Circular File, but don't get all excited - it's not like I had any real plot whilst writing it. In fact, it's decidedly random.
Oh, I almost forgot. It's going to be posted in bits and pieces, with no set schedule. Random installments of a random story - won't this be fun?
January 11, 2002
"To be successful in society it is not enough to be stupid, one must also be well-mannered"- Voltaire
January 12, 2002
I drink my coffee black. I've done so for about as long as I can remember. The funny thing is, I can't for the life of me figure out WHY I do so. Most of the time, if you think long enough, you can come up with at least a vague justification for any one of your habits or idiosyncracies - stepping on a nail as a child, for example, can lead to a prelidiction for wearing only those shoes equipped with a protective steel shank. Makes sense, doesn't it?
The thought crossed my mind as I sat at the breakfast table, earnestly failing to complete the New York Times Sunday crossword, sipping at the first of several cups of coffee that I drink over the course of a single day. Why is it that I like my coffee black as the ace of spades?
Now I consider myself to be a fairly swift individual and pride myself on my ability to recollect usless pieces of trivia or to produce plausible-sounding explanantions at the drop of a hat. I like to think of myself as being as sharp as a tack, so to speak. Yet I was positively stumped.
Putting down my pen, I thought briefly that I must have learned that coffee is meant to be drunk black at some point in my life - from my father perhaps? No, he takes his coffee with cream and sugar; as does his father. My mom prefers cappucino with extra froth and I have no recollection of her parents drinking anything at all, let alone a cup of steaming-hot black coffee. Alright then, if not something ingrained in me over years of exposure throughout my childhood, what about something that happened when I had my very first cup?
Unless there is some sort of major trauma involved (such as spilling it all over yourself and winning three million dollars from McDonalds in a lawsuit) one particular cup of coffee is not such an easy thing to remember. That first mug, steam skittering across the shiny black surface to rise and envelop the lips and face in a damp aromatic fog, followed by the first timid sips washing over the tongue and the hot bitter liquid overloading taste buds with flavour and temperature, concluding with the immediate unavoidable thought: "Jeezus! Why in the sam hell would anyone drink this stuff?" Of course, by then it's too late - you're hooked.
Unfortunately, no such poignant memories for me. If memory serves me correctly (and I'm sure it doesn't), I had my first cup of coffee at Denny's. Well, 'coffee' might be too strong a word (as is 'cup', but that's a whole other kettle of fish): 'bean tea' might be a little more appropriate - so why on earth wouldn't I add anything on the table to mask the non-flavour of that foul brew?
Somewhere, somehow, the idea that coffee should be like good sex - hot and bitter, as opposed to sweet and creamy - has crept into my subconscious. There's no two ways about it, it's like facing the opposite direction on an escalator: the fundamentals don't really change, only it just feels wrong.Yet I drink my espresso with double cream and several lumps of sugar. There's no accounting for taste.
January 16, 2002
And all of a sudden, Jeremy joins the ranks of the employed. Not to be overly smug about the whole affair, but for sending out a single resume, I think I did ok. Currently in shock. Feelings are:- Yay! I've got a job!
- Shit. I've got a job.
Oscillating at a high frequency between these two poles - I don't even know how much (or little) I'm getting paid yet. It seems that once again, my life has been propelled forward by a controlled burst of chaos. I think I need some coffee.
January 20, 2002
Off to work bright and early tomorrow morning - it's an awfully strange thought. I am looking forward to it, even though I have some concerns about filling the seven hours of class I've been scheduled for - planning single-hour lessons with another teacher was a whole other kettle of fish... when we got around to planning, that is. I know I'm just fretting needlessly, though. I guess it's just the whole new job thing. I do pretty much the same thing every time I get a new job - I drive myself around the bend, worrying that I won't be able to fulfill the duties expected of me. Of course, it's not altogether inconceivable that most people do pretty much the same thing. I just think too much, is all.
Most upsetting, perhaps, is the thought of having to catch the bus into Vancouver at 7AM. I'm just not compatible with that whole 'waking up while it's still dark' thing. That kind of behaviour is hard to stop once you get started; I might end up a responsible citizen before I know it.I don't feel I'm connecting thoughts too well at the moment. Better go polish off that bottle of Wild Turkey sitting on my shelf before I go to bed. That's a responsible thing to do, right?
January 28, 2002
Bang on the money about the filling seven hours concern - it truly is an excruciatingly long time. This could be due to my lack of anything remotely resembling organizational skills, but that is still up for debate. The first week went fairly well despite time's tendency to creep languidly by between the hours of 9AM to 5PM and the life-sapping commute from White Rock to Vancouver and back. I'm already running low on things to read on the bus, if you can believe that. Guess I'll have to start buying books again. Damn.
Now that the employment issue has been dealt with (knocking on wood), next on the agenda is the residential conundrum: hapless homesteading vs. downtown dilettantism. On the one hand, we have the lengthy commute coupled with the defrayed costs of living; on the other, complete autonomy and the bills to prove it. It's a tough call - preliminary scouting reports suggest I'll be residing somewhat farther from the city centre than previously anticipated... unless I decide to forego the petty materialistic trappings in life: you know, little things - like savings and food.Decisions, decisions. I might just hold off until the fifteenth and see how things are looking by then. At the very least, I'll have the beginnings of a nest egg saved up. Well, ostensibly anyway.This just in: the current leader in 'top terms visitors used to find my page in a search' at a whopping 100.00% is (are you ready for this?): INHALING GAS FUMES AT GAS STATION I shit you not. I don't even want to know what this person was expecting to find when they typed that in. At least it's better than 'japanese girls mississauga' - our previous champion.
Sigh.
|
