Monday, December 20, 2004

ten times too small

ten times too small
Originally uploaded by himbly.
Really, I'm not a grinch.

I don't mind Christmas at all...'specially this year because I'm not going to be as rushed as I used to be.

But (barring the Grinch's theme song) I really really hate Christmas music. It drives me batty.

Saturday, December 18, 2004

George Clinton mugshot

George Clinton
Originally uploaded by himbly.
Couldn't resist....

James Brown mugshot

James Brown
Originally uploaded by himbly.
Couldn't resist...

Battle of the Funk Giants

chaka khan
Originally uploaded by himbly.
Last week, my friend (eener) took me to see James Brown. It was a birthday gift.

At first (before I knew she had bought me the ticket) I was an asshole and protested ~vehemently~ my attendance at such an event. 'Splain why? Well, because I had seen George Clinton earlier this year and really really really tried to get down with the funk. And I first. I pushed my way to the front of the crowd and Bop Gunned as best I could until the music turned less familiar and I woke up to the cold reality that what I was watching was a lot of young people jamming on stage while a 65 year old man in a t-shirt and sweatpants smoked pot and invited young ladies up on stage so he could feel them up.

Which is fine. I think he's earned it.

I just wished I hadn't paid to see it.

So when Eener casually asked if I was going to see James Brown, she did not expect the 3 hour rant I went on with an added 35 minutes when she said, "I heard George Clinton was good"....(I guess I forgot to tell her I left early).

On the other hand, George Clinton is/was a visionary and a creative genius. P-Funk changed lives. Don't laugh. I'm serious. I watched a documentary once. Okay...a guy did a thing on them on the radio, but imagine you're a black young person in the late 60s, early 70s in the US. I think even a 32 year old white girl, born and bred in Canada, can safely say that there was not a whole whack of opportunity or equality offered people of colour in those days. And because I'm a 32 year old white girl, born and bred in Canada, I never even thought of this while enjoying the music, but the whole mythology behind what is P-funk...Starchild, Sir Nose D'voidoffunk, bopguns, flashlights, the mothership connection, WEFUNK, reclaiming the secrets of the pyramids, Dr. Funkenstein...was a way to tell young black kids that they, too, had a chance. They had something valuable to offer. I'll paraphrase something the guy on CBC's DNTO said when ~he~ quoted someone as saying that watching a group of black people piloting a spaceship, saving the world in their elaborate story was very new to them. It made them realize that they ~did~ have an important role in the future.

I stand behind my claim that P-funk (George Clinton) changed lives.

Now...before them, even, was the inventor of funk himself. The Godfather, Soulbrother #1, the Hardest Working Man in Showbiz, The King of Soul....James Brown.

I don't know if it's true that he invented funk...but he was at least the first to bring it forth to the table where it spilled out onto the floor and ran under our feet and into our hearts. So...without doing too much research into the matter and reading nerdy music lovers argue back and forth on some funk newsgroup, we'll just assume this.

I'm going to now extend my 'changed lives' theory over to James Brown. He, too, was an activist for black rights and always looked good, put on a good show, had an impeccably tight band (because he fined them if they weren't). Very powerful and influencial man and entertainer. And if you doubt his message reached and affected many many ears, then just listen to rap from the 80s to now...most sampled artist.

Having thought about all that....

As the concert date neared, I began to soften a/ on my James Brown stance...would be interesting to see him perform and b/ on my George Clinton was worth the money just to see what the man's up to these days and to support all he's done.

Well...I was right in the end. James Brown was fabulous. Not in a 'I couldn't stop the funk from taking over my booty' sort of a 'holy shit! so ~this~ is his vision' sort of way.

All in all, if I were to offer a compare/contrast sort of thing (which is essentially what I'm doing), I saw this year how two men, who've both accomplished so much in the same field, have reacted to their age. They're both old, both hard working, both like 'the party', both flamboyant.....and both have ways of coping with the fact that they can't do what they used to. George Clinton decided to come out in his at-home lounge outfit, mutter into the microphone and hand off the show to the others surrounding him while he shuffles across the stage sharing a joint with his band and audience. James Brown decided to come out in a red-sequined jumpsuit (which, frankly, ~could~ be his at-home lounge outfit for all I know), mutter into the microphone and hand off the show to the others surrounding him while he prances (as much as he's able) across the stage. Both are about ~serious~ smoke and mirrors these days.

And that's not a criticism. I think it's perfectly reasonable that these men now get to take a little break after working as hard as they did...and I think it's perfectly reasonable that they still tour.

But, James Brown - that guy ain't goin' down without a fight. His show is, well, the living shrine he built for himself ...and stopped updating sometime in the 80s. Good lord. It was absolutely amazing and a very real glimpse into the inner working of that man's mind, I would like to think.
Shine and glitter. Multi-multi piece band. Backup singers. The women...oh, the women. Eff you if you don't think this is significant, but he had two black women, two white women and two hispanic women (one was a young'ish woman he was 'showcasing'...danced around in shiny pants and a capelet singing "Hold On" (Sam & Dave). Tomi Rae. Had no clue at the time that this was his ~wife~ who is the same ~wife~ who was the ~wife~ most recently to slap assault charges on him....until I read about his prostate cancer and they mentioned her (get well, JB)). If you would have watched the show like I watched the show, you would have noticed that the whole thing was undoubtedly designed to display his greatness and importance. Young guitarists calling him 'sir', backup singers repeating 'He's the king of Soul', one of the backup singers 'losing it' and ranting like a rabid preacher that the band could not ~possibly~ start Sex Machine without him 'counting it off' for he is The Godfather and they shan't make a move without his say - all while he stood by looking like this was all news to him. Ahhh...beautiful.

And why not?

In the end it's been a fascinating year (having seen a nearly 60 year old David Bowie and now having tickets clenched in my grubby little hand for the one band I have waited my entire life to say, "I'm going to see Duran Duran"). But, funkifly speaking, it's a good thing Sly Stone isn't touring or my insides would have popped. Looking back...James Brown put on a pretty good show, but if I had to choose - George Clinton would win the foot massage. I can't understand a g-damn thing JB says, anyway.

PS. Yeah...I know. I just couldn't decide between a picture of James Brown or George Chaka Khan won.

Monday, December 06, 2004

Lamb of God in Land of Fat-ted Calf

Fat Land
Originally uploaded by himbly.

I went for a run today in -18 C weather so I could eat half a bag of Fudgeos with milk.

Ahhhh...I can tell by the big clock, children, that it's nearly time for


"that" time. regrets...and bring on the sour cream and onion potato chips, too!
*patting my belly*

Anyway...the real reason I was posting was to introduce this again. This site has caused me to look, believe, disbelieve, and then look again. I don't know if it's real..but I ~think~ it is. I mean, check it, yo:


Wha-wha-wha-huh? I mean, I have a degree in Linguistics, so I'm used to unusual debates that most people put in the 'rat's ass' category...but...

And yes...I know that it's the ~principle~ behind the matter...but, really...~really~.....

Because there is a belief out there that Christ was nailed to the cross with ~three~ nails, the church is in danger of being overrun by securlarists? Gracious, Helen, did you lock the basement windows after the craft sale?? I spotted an Atheist in the Safeway. How did I know? Well, he looked like the guy found in here.

It is this...~this very thing and things like it~ that keep people from caring about anything real.

..and the children...don't forget about the children.

Anyway...I could post about this site all day. Enjoy yerselves.


I think I have to put the Weather Underground documentary in my top ten somewhere...

see? this is how I got 20 last time.

Top Tens

A year ago I tried to do a list of favourite movies.

I've been drinking wine...bear with me.

I had a list of 32 movies and it was all I could do to narrow it down to 20.

But I lost that list...I don't know where it is.

I suggest (after reading Bumf's request for the best of 2004) that anyone reading this (ha! all 3 of you) submit your top TEN ~all time~ fave movies, books, and albums.

So...considering it is nearly impossible for me to do that let me say that I will not hold you to your choices...these fave lists change with the seasons...I know.

So...movies...let me try my first run list...subject to change without notice and in no particular order:

1- Breakfast at Tiffanys
2- Annie Hall
3- Withnail and I
4- Royal Tannenbaums
5- Top Secret
6- Ferris Bueler's Day Off
7- Love and Death
8- Unbearable Lightness of Being
9- Best In Show
10- High Fidelity


I dunno...I'll see if that's true...but now I'm going to bed.


Sunday, December 05, 2004

In response...

Hey dude...your comments thingy wasn't working, so I decided to post my comment here...

You made some good points and I understand why you see it that way, but the way I see it is this:

Firstly, just because a person identifies themselves with a group, doesn't make them a part of it. Mohammed Bouyeri belongs ~not necessarily~ with the jihad muslims in Iraq...he belongs more likely to the group called 'murderers'. Yes, he "slit his throat so deeply that his head was almost severed." but the only reason he's identified with jihad is because there is currently a war situation in which muslim groups are fighting and he identified himself as committing this act ~for~ doesn't mean that he was sent or even affiliated with any particular 'army' or group of fighters.

Mark David Chapman and John Hinckley Jr. cited Catcher In The Rye and Jodie Foster (respectively) as reasons for their (one successful, one attempted) assassinations. No one believes they were actually affiliated with either...they just think they're crazy. Slightly different situations, I know, but what I'm trying to say is that it's likey it's the same ~sort~ of idea with Mohammed Bouyeri.

Secondly...yes, Holland is a very tolerant country...very. Amsterdam is a uniquely interesting place to walk around, but aside from petty crimes, fairly safe. Muggings abound, but the women I've spoken to there tell me they feel free to walk home at 4 am should they wish. People are usually pretty friendly and very helpful (some I met can be kinda creepy, but harmless...remind me to tell you a story). One of the reasons this was so shocking.

I know the idea of a society tolerant to drug usage, sex trade workers, etc would seem like the place where, as Andrew Anthony puts it " does not take a social scientist to see that a veiled woman might have problems living next to a live sex show." But that's not how it is...or at least from what I've seen. Once out of the red light district, you really see no evidence of it in the rest of the city, and I would probably venture to say the rest of the country. The 'veiled woman' has an abundance of choice when it comes to living locations and, frankly, I think very few people live next to the live sex show theatres. You can choose to ~stay~ there, but the city is big and the red light district is only a few blocks around. The reason that the murder of Theo Van Gogh was such big news is because this behaviour isn't common in I see no reason for it to be a sign of a declining nation and/or way of life.

Thirdly...the beheadings. Awful, yes. They are absolutely terrible. They are also an act of a desparate people fighting a war against a force that is by FAR better armed and trained than they are. It's war and people are dying...Iraqis, Americans, Brits, Koreans, all sorts. However, the coalition forces have the technology and manpower to drop bombs or spray bullets. You can't expect the lesser equiped ones to fight fair...they know they'd be creamed. These muslim groups have come up with a way to make each death they cause ~mean~ contrast to their thousands of anonymous ones. I don't think it's good...I don't think ~either~ are good, but that's what war is. People killing people.

Most people aren't evil...but desparate people are capable of doing very evil things..and that's what they are, desparate.

I'll read the Andrew Anthony article, though...and post that later.


Originally uploaded by himbly.

I just really liked this.


Originally uploaded by himbly.
Listening to Sounds Like Canada the other day.

They interviewed these people involved in a project to commemorate the underground railroad in Owen Sound. A pretty interesting project, I'd say, on it's own. However, the woman went on to explain their usage of a 'quilting code' in the building of this cairn.

Evidently, back in the days of slavery in the US, there was a system of code in the patchworking of quilts made by anyone 'on the team', so to speak. So...a quilt containing different symbols would direct a slave to people who could help, safehouses, and, in the end, Canada. And the slave masters were none the wiser.

Very interesting.


I can pull myself back up, back down
Stuck together like a readymade

I'm stuck...

I've got stuff that I want to write about, but it's not forming itself in my brain properly and these lame posts are all I got.

Funny how when you read your friend's blogs you recognise parts of your conversations with them.

I just made cookies...they're all warm and cooling in the kitchen and I can't even look at them because I ate their brothers when they were just baby-dough.

Now I feel grody.

Plus, I meant to run today, but it snowed and I made cookies....two reasons I couldn't go.

Now I'm blogging the boyf is stuck in the virtual world of Warcraft....I wish I was playing. Every so often I hear a 'riiight onnnn' from the other side of the room. Both of our bellies are full of cookies and bloating.


Saturday, December 04, 2004

...and this....

Bono plans lifelong poverty fight

I can't believe we care.

Okay...actually, it can't hurt.

Here she is...

Originally uploaded by himbly.

Miss Peru wins world beauty title

I can't believe we care.

Thursday, November 25, 2004

...tastes like itchy

I'm allergic to nuts.

I actually don't know ~which~ nuts I'm allergic to, I've just avoided all things nutty since I was two years old. Well, at that age, I was having them avoided for me.

It all started one day when my mother, unaware of my condition, was lovingly pushing me in a cart through Safeway when she came across a display of walnuts. She carefully chose one, bit off a small chunk, fed it to me and then stood back in horror as she watched her cherubic little darling swell into something that resembled a hungover John Merrick.

She sat up all night listening to my breathing patterns after a doctor at the hospital sent us home with a 'just keep an eye on her and she should be alright'.

So...ever since...I've never eaten nuts. There's a couple I've ingested by's a crap shoot, really. I've come through some of those times completely unscathed and other times it has resulted in a very uncomfortable evening of finding an uncrowded walk-in clinic. But I've not been to the hospital I doubt I'm the type that will keel over if a peanut touches one of my M&Ms.

Which puts me in the (seemingly) unique position of not knowing what nuts taste like. I know I've had them, but had I known there were nuts in whatever I was eating, I would have not eaten see? So, I don't know what the taste ~is~, exactly. Not all nuts taste like danger to me, so it's difficult to say. Plus, ~quantity~ is a factor. Say I were to eat something and find nuts in it...the next mouthful may be the mouthful that changes my day from carefree to constricted throat. So, if I suspect something's amis, it's best to abort the whole eating mission altogether.

Which is what I was trying to explain to the kid at the coffeeshop today when I told him I was unable to identify the 'different' taste of my iced vanilla latte, but needed to know if it was nuts because I didn't know what nuts tasted like. He was very cool about it and gave me a new one, but he was all, ' don't know what nuts ~taste~ like? That is so, like, weird.'

My mother, in her unending struggle to not let her baby be denied any of life's pleasures, bought me No Nut Butter...a peanut butter substitute made, I think, of peas...not sure. I'll check the label. Anyway...I don't like it. According to my boy and tastes almost like the real thing, so if that's the case then I suggest it's an acquired taste that I have not acquired through years of being handed a pb&j sandwich and sent to watch cartoons. The boy eats it now. Which brings me to another funny event when I offered to make him toast one morning and asked what he'd like on it.

"Peanut butter and marmalade!"

"Really??", I asked because he's often a joker.

"uh...yeah...of course"

See? I don't know what goes with peanutbutter. I hear jelly. I hear bananas. Hell if I know.

Sunday, November 21, 2004 words

Originally uploaded by himbly.
I've been trying to think of a post that would go with this...but I can't. It would best be left on it's own.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you...a proud man:

Great God A'mighty!

Originally uploaded by himbly.
Will someone please tell me what the EFF this is ???
I suggest the Kid's Corner.

I've seen this site -looked over it again and again- for a couple of years now. I ~don't think~ it's a joke. I ~think~ it's real. BUT I'm never quite sure. If it is a joke, I will prostrate myself at the feet of the world's greatest pranksters. If it ~isn't~ a joke, I will prostrate myself at the feet of Jesus...


no I won't.

Got nothing against Jesus. Sounded like a decent guy. Got everything against his followers. Packs of mangy hounds. Very generally. Not all of them. Just the frothy ones. Like the ones that wrote that site. If it's true.

This ones not true, but funny, too:


the only fear is fear itself

Originally uploaded by himbly. I've gone and done it. I done told a work colleague my blog addy.

Hi Bumf.

No big deal, really, I'm just a/ shy about my blog, but whatever, that's my problem and b/ I was worried that I would eventually bitch about work and he'd be there to read it.

So...there's nothing to do but confront fear head on:

G-damn I hate my effing job.

( are sworn to secrecy...what is read on the web, stays on the web. Fair?)

Now...allow me to make a few disclaimers. The ~people~ I work with are great...not just saying that because Bumf is here. I'm generally left alone. There's just enough insane women to keep me amused. Bumf and a couple of others come around for a pretty good chat every so often. My boss is pretty fair and loves hearing my D&D stories. I even get paid decently - for what I do. The owner of the company is pretty, in an actual 'hip' way...not like a JC Anderson cool in a 'my god, he's just like the cartoon' way.



oh my god, but...

what have I done? My job is so useless. My talents (whatever they are) go untouched. I'm so much smarter than my job requires me to be. And as every day goes by, I've spent another 8 hours helping rich men get petroleum out of the ground as fast as those little pumpjacks can suck so that everyone can drive their monster SUVs to the corner store and keep it running while they rent Titanic. Again.


And all because I ~really dig~ linguistics. And I was too lazy/intimidated/whatever to resist the call of oil and gas when I was a freshly graduated, newly unemployed lass.

That was 7 years ago...and for those 7 years, I've been floating at these pink collar jobs. 7 years in a pool of 'support women of the office' which often is the cattiest little group of cliches I've ever seen.

But that's another rant for another day.

So...I've made mistakes. Many.

But that's another rant for another day.

What I've got will do for now. I've luckily got my projection gig, my tutoring gig, my hobbies so that I can feel productive and interested. Eventually, the grad school in my future will be in my present...

but that's another rant for another day.

Tuesday, November 16, 2004

And speaking of...

Originally uploaded by himbly.
Re: quote from before

I love Woody Allen and I'm going to include some quotes I've found here:

I can't do the fancy-dancy link thing yet 'cause a/ I'm too lazy and b/ .... well, I think a/ covers it. I'll learn it eventually and have a pretty blog like e'ryone else. But for now, here:

"I don't want to achieve immortality through my work. I want to achieve it through not dying."

"I asked the girl if she could bring a sister for me. She did. Sister Maria Teresa. It was a very slow evening. We discussed the New Testament. We agreed that He was very well adjusted for an only child."

"More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly."


*wiping tears*

aren't you glad I did that?

Comments on the election...

Originally uploaded by himbly.

Like the man with the glasses said...

Originally uploaded by himbly.
Tragedy + time = humour

I occasionally peruse the photoshop phridays on but none of those photoshopped pictures...and some are damn funny...made me laugh as much as when I first saw this.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Attractive to the elderly since 1980...

Originally uploaded by himbly.
Remember that story I told you about the 74 year old man trying to pick up the lovely young lady? Me? the funny thing is this. And this isn't a shady story from my past, so don't get all weirded out 'cause it was a situation that ~could~ have gone bad....but didn' no harm was done. ANYWAY...

When I was about 8 or 9, my grandmother was in Safeway and I was outside playing and waiting with my little cousin. An old man came up to talk to us and it never dawned on me what he was trying to do. I remember ~now~ that he was trying to get me/us to go with him, but it ALSO never dawned on me to do so and that was that. But...I politely chatted with the old bastard, as I was taught to do, refusing any and all invitations for the steamy photo session I was surely in for had I left my post.

(I could have been a star!)

When it came time for him to leave...which I now realize was about the time my grandmother would have come to fetch us...he turned to me, held my face and planted a HUGE kiss directly on my mouth. TOTALLY startled, I ran inside Safeway with my cousin and found Nanny.

Nanny...always knowing what to do in a crisis...IMMEDIATELY took me to her house, sat me on the bathroom counter and sprayed perfume in my mouth while telling me stories of New Year's Eve.

"Iz alright, Steeephy. New Year's Eve ~everyone~ kissing each other. No one get sick."

*spray spray*

SO...let's get back in the time machine and sail to just a few days ago when I'm telling my father the story about the old man trying his luck on Halloween.

After his laughter died down:

He said, "do you remember when you were little and you were playing outside of Safeway while waiting for your grandmother?"

I said,"Oh! Totally! I remembered right away because I was like, "yup...still got it"...I was like, 12, right?"

He said,"No no were, like, 8 or 9 because THAT was the reason I started to take you to Stampede Wrestling."

Yes...had it not been for the elderly pervert happening across two young girls at Safeway, I would have never enjoyed weeks of Stampede Wrestling at the Pavilion fun...and it ~was~ a super lot of fun. father saw in me that I had ~too~ much respect for my elders, so he took me to the one place in our fair city that he knew I would encounter the greatest density of adults I ~never~ had to respect my entire life...therefore learning the golden rule:

The world is generally made up of retards. Don't listen to them.

I try to practice it every day.

Goodnight, children. Don't kiss any old strangers.


Could someone please direct me to some cool sites?

Everytime I think of something I want to look up when I'm away from this damn thing...well, they just go slap outta my head by the time I come back. It's the same thing I get when I go to Recordland or a book store...


I want this..and I want to check for that...and oh, yeah...this...and that....

*through doors*

*blink blink*



So...please....before I go back to!!

Tuesday, November 02, 2004


I got a comment from someone I ~don't~ know on one of my posts.

Thank you, kind stranger.

It's raining men...

Originally uploaded by himbly.

Hello Handsome...

Hello Handsome...
Originally uploaded by himbly.
I got hit on by a 74 year old man on Sunday. So I bet my halloween was WAY scarier than yours.

That's what you get for being nice to the elderly. Propositioned in a wholly inappropriate way. And, being a "nice old man", it was ~completely~ unexpected that he would ask to come home with me. But, since I'm still respecting him because he's old, I excused myself and ran away. Had he been 30 years younger, I would have belittled him to his face as I've done ~countless~ times...amusing myself and the people surrounding me. WHICH the old bastard deserved.

However...had that been one of my friends, I would have said, 'well, you can't blame him for trying' it is.

red, blue, swing states and headaches

I, like everyone else, have been following this damn election. In fact I'm listening to the results come in as I type this.


I, like everyone else...well, everyone ~I~ know, want Kerry to win. But, we're just gonna have to deal with what we get.

ha..."we"...I'm Canadian and I, like everyone else, know that whoever they pick will affect us, too. I heard a guy on the radio a few weeks ago actually wonder why the whole world feels the need to watch this election so closely. Ha!

But anyway...some thoughts:

Firstly, it must suck to be John Kerry and know that your biggest selling point to Americans and the rest of the world isn't who you are, but who you aren't.

Secondly....have we all been playing bit parts in this over-the-top action film for a very long time, or did it just start recently? We've got all the elements of a blockbuster hollywood film. Here:

- we've got the criminal mastermind who is unwaveringly evil and strikes when and where we least expect it. And he's ~just~ out of our grasp. He taunts us with audio and video tapes, in which he makes little personal "pokes" at our "brave and fearless leader". He's different than us. He wears different clothes and speaks in strange tongues. And... he lives in a cave. Cave = lair. He's for sure got all sorts of evil-doing equipment scattered all over the damn place behind some secret entrance. And, on top of that, he doesn't even worship the right god.

(aside: reading about Bin Laden's tape the other day, I started laughing when I reached the part where he chided W for sitting in that classroom for 7 minutes. I mean...of COURSE he's seen Fahrenheit 911.)

- we've got the "brave and fearless" leader. A bit reckless and cocky (all he needs is a police chief boss yelling that he's a loose cannon)

"You're a loose cannon, Bush! You're off the case!"

( and added bonus, our hero is about as smart as the actors who have traditionally taken that role. But nowhere near as pretty.)

I suppose Kerry fills the role of you're-off-the-case guy. Which brings us to...

- we've got the struggle between the two forces of good about how to fight against the force of evil. I mean...check out the suspense we've gone through since the beginning of the campaign. Will he be allowed to stay on the case and catch the bad guy? Oh god! I hope the well-meaning but inaffective chief doesn't get his way.

- we've got the evil henchman who's laughs through his dying coughs.

"ha *cough cough* ha...I'm not the guy you want. Yes, I tried to kill your father, but I wasn't involved in Bin Laden's schemes. He's escaped your grasp once again. Ha *cough* ha ha uuugggghhhhhhhhhh"

('kay, he's not dead, but he was pretty sick when they found him)

- we've got a cast of thousands....and thousands dead.

all we need is a love interest and I'd SWEAR we're being watched in some intergalactic film festival.

Monday, October 11, 2004

Eddie Izzard

Eddie Izzard
Originally uploaded by himbly.
...and all you Eddie Izzard fans will get ~this~ joke.

Fifth Seal

Fifth Seal
Originally uploaded by himbly.
Oh my god!

I've played far too much Diablo!


My boyfriend wrecked me.


comrade himbly

comrade himbly
Originally uploaded by himbly.
If it's possible, I do believe I'm in a projection slump. Ever since film fest I've been screwing up things that I'm usually SO careful about. And it's not that I ~don't~ care. I do. A lot. I'm just in a slump. I think. Today I missed my very first changeover cue. I swear in all the years I've been running those projectors, I've NEVER missed a changeover cue.

I blame the film fest. I got so tired and I, again, screwed up more times than is usual for me. I built up a 3 hour film and put one of the reels in backwards. NOT that it was entirely my was labeled wrong. But, jesus! That doesn't happen with me. I jinxed myself. I think. I'm so glad it wasn't me who ran that film. I'm not so glad that it was the owner of the theatre who did.

He's a whole other kettle of fish. Sunday is a brand new shift. Time to get in there and give 110%...


(if you knew how slack my job can get sometimes, ~that~ would be a really funny joke)

... into a beautiful swan

Originally uploaded by himbly.
So, I'm chopping broccolli...
(waiting for everyone to finish the all time SNL fave "Choppin' Broccolli")
but, really, I was and I kinda yelp and jump back...
(waiting for 'jump back...kiss myself' James Brown response)
but, really, I did because there's a caterpillar in the broccolli. Ren was there...she saw it. I jumped not because I'm afraid of bugs...(I'm only afraid in an Arthur Dent kinda way)...
that was a geeky reference
...but because I'm not used to seeing alive, moving things in places I'm not used to seeing alive, moving things. So, I take the caterpillar and some discarded broccolli and put them all into a jar. Ren was there...she saw it. A few days later, I had a cocoon. And -just the other day- I ran to the jar when I got home, eagerly looking for a change as I have done every day since the cocoon formed, and it had turned into a beautiful butterfly...okay...kinda dull moth. Chris was there....he saw it.

So I let it go.

Isn't that a nice story? Sweet dreams, children.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

Strong Swimmer

My father... father...

My father is a bullshit artist of the highest order.

I, as the only child of my broken family, have had the pleasure and privilege of being the only recipent of the teachings of the two most polar opposite people in the world. My parents are so unalike, that to compare them accurately would take more time and space on this thing than I'd prefer. They're great, though...both of them. My mother lives in a comfortable suburban home with her husband and my father lives in a house he built himself outside of town with his 7 dogs. My mother took me to Shakespeare in the Park, my father took me to Stampede wrestling. My mother picks me up clothes she thinks I'll like from Jacob, my father gives me gift certificates for Mark's Work Warehouse. My mother and I go out for lunch, my father kills chickens for me. I'm thankful...because of them, I've become terribly indesicive.

I figure the only way I could possibly describe them is in D&D terms...but a/ I'd have to think about that and consult my manual and b/ it's too geeky and I'd end up embarrassed and deleting this section of my little essay here.

My father, getting back to the bullshit artist part, tells his coworkers stories about me. He tells them stories about my childhood that he's made up. He tells them stories of abuse and neglect with a straight face as if every parent throws their child into a lake in a sack to teach them to swim.

As far as I've heard:

- I've been (as I said just now) put into a burlap sack with a rock and tossed into a river/lake to learn to swim (which lead to the joke "she used to have a ton of brothers and sisters...she's just a strong swimmer").

- I've been slowly working up my resistance to Round Up (the weed killer) by injesting small doses since I was a toddler.

- I've suffered a mysterious and unspeakable accident which caused months of hospitalization and my mouth to be wired shut. "She writes on her pad that she's okay, but her eyes tell a different story."

- I was often locked in a closet because my parents couldn't afford babysitters.

- And, a recent and personal favourite, I was put into a school for mentally challenged kids and it took 2 years before they figured out I didn't belong there.

Thursday, September 16, 2004

Did you know...

dr seuss war comics
Originally uploaded by himbly.
that Dr. Seuss used to be a political cartoonist?

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Old ladies and grumpy men...

My grandmother was very old today.

She's doing well...better than I expected. As a matter of fact, she was prancing around the hospital room like she'd never uttered the words, 'can you believing I suffer so much?' Just, after my uncle left, she sat down, held my hand and we both knew that she was not the same and that she had decisions to make (although, sometimes after 10 minutes with my uncle, ~I~ don't feel the same and want to hold someone's hand).

She puts up so many appearances and, frankly, can get so ridiculous that I forget that she ~does~ understand. We didn't talk much, but I knew she'd been thinking about the rest of her life and the lives of her family after she's gone. And she was squeezing my hand tight. It's been a long time since I've felt as though she saw something in me she liked and trusted me enough to be honest. We discussed living arrangements for her when she gets home, we discussed the death of my grandfather 24 years ago, we discussed her needs and their impact on the family...but we didn't discuss any of those things for long because her aphasia (and probably just old age) affects her comprehension and ability to say what she wants to say. So she has to stop. It must be a drag.

Anyway...she's healthy as a horse, she just has a bum knee now. So that's good news ('cept for the knee) and I'll knock wood.

Whoa! Dude...4 posts on my family and all my grandmother's got is arthritis? Enough of that.

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

Bad Daughter

I feel bad for writing what I did. My mum is wicked...she's just a little stressed out right now.

Turns out my grandmother has just has arthritis and she couldn't walk because her leg swelled up badly. I saw her yesterday and she was in good spirits. She should be home in a few days after they give her some physio and see how her new medication works.

More later...

Monday, September 13, 2004

I love you, Mommy...

...but you're being a passive/aggressive micro-managing martyr.

(so nice that she'll never see this)

Sunday, September 12, 2004

"Your grandmother's in the hospital....

....but she's okay."

Well...good morning. Woke up to my mother phoning telling me my grandmother's in the hospital. The good news is that it's probably nothing. Her leg felt numb and she can't walk on it, but they put her on blood thinners and she should be out today. I, however, snapped to attention and couldn't get back to sleep.

We've been lucky with that lil' ol' Polish tank. She's a toughie. One of the more interesting characters in my life, and I've got the pleasure to be related to her. Remindeds me of Scarlett O'Hara...started off a princess, lost it all during the war and did everything she could so that she would regain her 'regal' status. According to her, Poland pre-1939 had cotton candy trees and chocolate rivers. She lived in a city, Przemysl, which at that time was located more centrally in Poland. So, by her tell, the Germans and the Russians often took turns occupying. My grandfather was gone with the Polish army and she was left to care for my two year old uncle her mother, and mother-in-law. She was about 22.

She's given me so many stories over the years. How russian officers often lived in her house, how she worked for the germans in labour camps, how people went shopping and then were unable to get back because one of the two warring sides will have advanced enough to cut them off from their homes. Closer to the end of the war, she and her son were herded out of work and onto a train. A day or two later, they were in Germany and she never saw Poland or her family again. She lived in a bombed house, helped in a soup kitchen, worked for a barroness, etc...and then, through letters written to family, found her husband after 8 years. He took her to Scotland and that's where my mother and the rest of her siblings were born.

Yet...this woman calls my mother to work the VCR. She never learned how to lock a door until my grandfather died (I once told her that might have helped in preventing the Russians storming into her house...hehe). She consistantly opens the milk carton on the wrong side. And she can be ~mean~. She rules as "The Matriarch" of our family and is extremely comfortable with that title. "I'm the grandma", she tells you if you protest ~anything~.

Anyway...she's 88 and as healthy as one could hope for...knock wood. I'm pretty sure this leg thing will pass and she'll be back chastizing me and my cousins for not being married yet in no time. I love that old battleaxe.

Tuesday, September 07, 2004

5 days in a leaky boat...

Lots has happened in my brain since the last post (went to crazyville...stayed for a few days, caught the shows, saw the sights ...back in sanetown now). Feeling much better, thank you. Trying to think of what to write about next, but frankly, all I can think about today is the fact that my friend Sandra made ketchup on the weekend and that I can practically taste the deliciousness. Combing the web for recipes that don't include sterilized mason jars because that may be beyond my present abilities. Will be back with more soon enough.

It's good to feel like myself again.

PS. Don't you just LOVE Magic: The Gathering? (Don't you just, Rjak?) Some girls buy clothes to make themselves feel pretty...I buy a Fifth Dawn booster pack. Talking to the clerks at the geekstores about the deck you want to build can ~really~ make a girl feel special. And...when you tap that card that makes your boyfriend curse your very's a very specific kind of pride you feel.

Saturday, September 04, 2004

Friday, September 03, 2004

Hi Sad Goat...This is Helen from beautiful downtown Barnwell....

I was listening to Richardson's Roundup this afternoon...well...The Roundup (enjoy your new pursuit, Mr. Richardson). They kept mentioning 'The Proust Questionaire'. So, I looked it up. Evidently, Marcel Proust (July 1871 - November 1922) was asked to fill out a questionaire at two points of his life...once when he was 13 and attending the birthday party of Antoinette Felix-Faure (which went as follows):


What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
- To be separated from Mama

Where would you like to live?
- In the country of the Ideal, or, rather, of my ideal

What is your idea of earthly happiness?
- To live in contact with those I love, with the beauties of nature, with a quantity of books and music, and to have, within easy distance, a French theater

To what faults do you feel most indulgent?
- To a life deprived of the works of genius

Who are your favorite heroes of fiction?
- Those of romance and poetry, those who are the expression of an ideal rather than an imitation of the real

Who are your favorite characters in history?
- A mixture of Socrates, Pericles, Mahomet, Pliny the Younger and Augustin Thierry

Who are your favorite heroines in real life?
- A woman of genius leading an ordinary life

Who are your favorite heroines of fiction?
- Those who are more than women without ceasing to be womanly; everything that is tender, poetic, pure and in every way beautiful

Your favorite painter?
- Meissonier

Your favorite musician?
- Mozart

The quality you most admire in a man?
- Intelligence, moral sense

The quality you most admire in a woman?
- Gentleness, naturalness, intelligence

Your favorite virtue?
- All virtues that are not limited to a sect: the universal virtues

Your favorite occupation?
- Reading, dreaming, and writing verse

Who would you have liked to be?
- Since the question does not arise, I prefer not to answer it. All the same, I should very much have liked to be Pliny the Younger.


"A woman of genius leading an ordinary life"
Shit damn...he would have ~loved~ me....hehehehehe

Seriously, though....did ~all~ educated thirteen year olds of that era answer questions like that? I mean...hell. Okay, I'm sure not ~all~ of them did, but I'm 31 and have answered dozens of questionaires in my lifetime. I'm not fantastically educated or anything...but I have a difficult time when asked what my favourite food is. years later, our hero is at another social event and asked to fill out a similar questionaire:


Your most marked characteristic?
- A craving to be loved, or, to be more precise, to be caressed and spoiled rather than to be admired

The quality you most like in a man?
- Feminine charm

The quality you most like in a woman?
- A man's virtues, and frankness in friendship

What do you most value in your friends?
- Tenderness - provided they possess a physical charm which makes their tenderness worth having

What is your principle defect?
- Lack of understanding; weakness of will

What is your favorite occupation?
- Loving

What is your dream of happiness?
- Not, I fear, a very elevated one. I really haven't the courage to say what it is, and if I did I should probably destroy it by the mere fact of putting it into words.

What to your mind would be the greatest of misfortunes?
- Never to have known my mother or my grandmother

What would you like to be?
- Myself - as those whom I admire would like me to be

In what country would you like to live?
- One where certain things that I want would be realized - and where feelings of tenderness would always be reciprocated.

What is your favorite color?
- Beauty lies not in colors but in thier harmony

What is your favorite flower?
- Hers - but apart from that, all

What is your favorite bird?
- The swallow

Who are your favorite prose writers?
- At the moment, Anatole France and Pierre Loti

Who are your favoite poets?
- Baudelaire and Alfred de Vigny

Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
- Hamlet

Who are your favorite heroines of fiction?
- Phedre (crossed out) Berenice

Who are your favorite composers?
- Beethoven, Wagner, Shuhmann

Who are your favorite painters?
- Leonardo da Vinci, Rembrandt

Who are your heroes in real life?
- Monsieur Darlu, Monsieur Boutroux (professors)

Who are your favorite heroines of history?
- Cleopatra

What are your favorite names?
- I only have one at a time

What is it you most dislike?
- My own worst qualities

What historical figures do you most despise?
- I am not sufficiently educated to say

What event in military history do you most admire?
- My own enlistment as a volunteer!

What reform do you most admire?
- (no response)

What natural gift would you most like to possess?
- Will power and irresistible charm

How would you like to die?
- A better man than I am, and much beloved

What is your present state of mind?
- Annoyance at having to think about myself in order to answer these questions

To what faults do you feel most indulgent?
- Those that I understand

What is your motto?
- I prefer not to say, for fear it might bring me bad luck.


I think I ought to start reading Proust...

(though...he did like Wagner...hmm)

Weird...I am ~so~ shy.

I am completely uncomfortable with posting. Hopefully, this will melt away and I can rant freely and with abandon....but at the moment, I'm stuck. Not sure what to say or how to say it when i do.

*tap tap tap*


So...I suppose one just jumps in and hopes for the best.

But...then again, I could congratulate myself for going this far and try again later.

Think I'll do that.

Atta girl. Now go lay down.

Thursday, September 02, 2004



uh...not sure what I'm doing here. I think I've got an awful lot of nerve coming in here all, 'I want a blog' and stuff. I am, so I'll give it a go. I can't promise anything.

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