Strange Dreams a plenty

Had some odd dreams last night. Started off as a sort of Movie preview, only all the upcoming attractions were rehashes of old tv shows and sequels to movies that stopped being cool decades ago. A reworking of little house on the prairie, and a very unecessary threequel to Bill and Ted's excellent adventure, with an aging Keanu Reeves in a bad wig and a rather haggard looking Alex Winter. I mean, is that guy even still alive?



To make it odder, the 'sneak peek' was being acted out in my kitchen, which actually looked a lot like the Carstairs' kitchen or at least what i can remember of it.

Next I am tobogganing with Cory Emerson, in what seems like a large cave. There's a big frozen lake in the middle and I am unsure of the condition of the ice so I'm hesitant to slide across. We somehow make our way to the bottom of the hill, and tread carefully along the edge of the ice. Down the way, some drunk frat boys are sliding down the hill and across the ice. To my horror, there are holes opening in the ice and below the thick sheet, the water appears to be boiling.

Turning around to climb back up the hill, I'm faced with what is no longer a hill, but a sheer ice face. I make my way towards where the frat boys were playing, but this too has become a 90 degree climb. With a resigned sigh, I reach up, and I'm surprised to find I suddenly have the agility of Spiderman, and am able to scale the cliff without issue.



Cory follows me up and we go out the door into what appears to be a 'fitness' area in a large administrative/hospital type building.
The building is quite crowded and it resembles a cross between one of the older buildings at Georgian, and the Ontario science center. There's a pool with old ladies in an aquafit class to the left and people are milling around.

Cory tells me she's leaving and I say good bye, then realize that I don't know how to get out of the building. I run up a flight of stairs and find myself in some kind of maternity ward, with women in old fashioned nurses uniforms pushing baby carriages.

Turning tail, I go back the way I came, and with an odd sense of urgency push my way through the crowded halls until I find myself outside and in the thick of some kind of outdoor festival, with a midway and a concert stage. Again, there is people, people, people, everywhere. The dim light and faint mist leads me to believe that it's sometime in the the very early morning. I scan the parking lot and begin to panic because I can't remember where I parked my car. Wandering down a steep, dirt road, I find my car at the bottom, parked next to a ditch. With relief I run toward it. I have to climb into the ditch to reach the passenger door. In the mud next to the front wheel, is one of my poetry books from highschool. That's when I woke up.

There's seems to be a lot of themes of being stuck, or lost, and kind of an agoraphobic type mood. Hrm.

Conversations with my kid: On the subject of race

Watching 'Maude' with the girls

Bea Arthur: "In this house, there is no black, and no white. There is only people-color."

Tierney: "...which is beige."

Kicking my inner bitch in the taco with the steel-toed boot of creativity..

I was hit with a burst of creativity last night that knocked me off my feet. I think if every night was as artistically fulfilling as last night, I could easily never leave my house again, and happily live out the eccentric starving artist stereotype - you know.. the lady 'of a certain age' with her colorful but comfortable attire, her cats, her bottles of wine and her young lovers. Ohhh, wouldn't that be nice.

There's still time for all that.

It was quite lovely tho, enjoying a nice half-bottle of wine, listening to music and getting thoroughly mess and right 'into it'. Up to my neck, mentally speaking. Just focused and relaxed all at the same time.

Once I was done and satisfied - nay, enthralled with the final result, which is rare being my own worst critic - I sat with the guitar and a nice little buzz and played and felt so in tune with the music that I could instantly pick out certain chord progressions and go off on blues-scale based tangents. I can barely hold down the strings today my fingertips are so tender.

I wish I could find 'that place' more often.

I kind of miss..

...back a couple of months ago when the Rye's open mike night was relatively unknown and it was a small gathering of nervous if dedicated musicians showing up every other week to enjoy and listen to some music.

Somewhere, along the lines, it caught on.

Don't get me wrong, I think this is fabulous for the establishment itself, as I am a fan of anything endeavour that keeps our downtown thriving - or approaching thriving, or anything that gives a glimmer of hope that one day Midland's downtown may thrive, since it's pretty sad actually.

Bear with me, I'm about to get all old and crotchety on ya.

The kids have taken over. There's not a lot for a teenager to do on a weekday night, so the jam seems to have become a place to come, hang out and chit chat with friends. And it strikes me as disrespectful to the musicians and enthusiasts who come out to enjoy and play music when the performers can barely be heard over the din.

And yes, of course, there are adults who are just as guilty of chit-chatting.. but I don't know.

It just seems so typical of what happens when something becomes a 'scene'. Back when the Monteiths owned Chicago North and they were holding Sunday all ages jams, it was cool at first because people like myself who wanted to play could go despite being underage.. but then I brought a couple of friends, and they brought some friends, and it became a teen hang-out and sometimes no better than a karaoke night, as many of the kids that came out didn't play - they'd sing to the house band. Eventually, they shut down sunday jams, because the point was being missed, and frankly, it's never a good idea to have that many underagers in a bar, even on a sunday *koff*bleachers*koff*

A coffee house is a different situation than a bar, granted. But there are not many places in Midland to go and play and enjoy music. There more places to go hang out with your friends and make chitchat and be seen.

I think I may stay home next week. I could use a break.

So a call comes into the helpdesk...

...and no, it wasn't another heavy-breather.

A gentleman calls into the helpdesk today asking for information about an Oxford X-ray Fluorometer ED 2000 Detector listed on our site. He indicates that he's not looking to buy it. He just wants to find out what it is.

You see, there's one in his garage.

It seems this guy recently moved into a new house and lo and behold, it seems that the former residents went and left their fluorometer behind. So this guy calls and basically wants to know what this thing in his garage is. I tell him, 'it's a type of detector used in liquid chromatography'.

Silence.

"... which means?"

Really, I couldn't offer more information, so being the good little CSR I am, I say "Well, we don't directly deal with any equipment. In fact, I see probably 100 of these things a day but couldn't tell you what they do. Let's see what good old wikipedia has to say on the subject"

If any one is interested, here is what good old Wikipedia has to say about High Performance Liquid Chromatography.

Confused? Yeah me too.

Here's where it gets crazy. The same unit listed on our site was being offered for 38K+ Euros, which is roughly the equivalent to $52,000 USD.

So picture this..

You're a new homeowner and upon moving in, you find a rather expensive looking piece of scientific equipment in your garage. Not knowing what it is, your first thoughts are probably along the lines of:

"Oh hell. Am I going to have the EPA invading my yard?"
"What the hell is this thing?"
"I wonder if I can sell it?"

I may mention that the gentleman on the phone indicated that the one in his garage was in good shape and carefully crated to protect from damage.

Now imagine that upon looking up this equipment you see the equivalent on sale for over fifty thousand dollars.

FIFTY. THOUSAND. DOLLARS.

Happy friggin' birthday. I bet this guy is just crapping his pants.

.. Come let your socks fall down to your shoes

After months of anticipation, I caught Spoon at the Sound Academy in Toronto last night, and was without a doubt, pretty much blown away.

I picked up the Danno in P-tang after work, after checking numerous times to make sure that I had tickets, wallet, bank card (a mid-day drive back to Vic Harbs ensured that I did indeed have the plastic-money-card) etc etc, because let's face it, I forget shit. ALL. THE. TIME. We made pretty decent time if I do say so myself and I managed to navigate the 401 and the Don Valley Parkway without any minor coronary episodes. When it's not rush hour, I enjoy driving the DVP, since when you're not bumper to bumper it can be quite scenic in places. Driving along I tend to find myself overwhelmed by some of the bridges that pass over this stretch of road, if only for their sheer age and immensity. The Bloor street viaduct is kind of awe-inspiring and depressing at the same time. The high screens that stretch from one end of the valley to the other are a stark reminder that enough people chose this particular bridge from which to shuffle off the mortal coil (probably due to the heavy traffic and insane heights) that it actually necessitated the erection of these high screens to prevent precisely those sorts of 'Go-big-or-go-home' type self-inflicted deaths.


Prince Edward aka Bloor Street Viaduct

There's another bridge along this road that just intimidates and awes the hell out of me, but I can't remember what it's called. It's one or two exits north of the bridge above and every time I drive under it I get little shivers. The sheer expanse combined with the almost ancient looking pillars plunging into the valley below always make me think of the capability of humankind to create these magnificent things of beauty and function, especially in bygone eras where we relied on craftsmanship, skill and effort rather than technology to build and create.

In the past I'd considered a career in architecture but I think I'd probably be better suited to art history. I have a great interest in buildings and structures of old, but little to no interest in creating new.

Onwards and upwards. I gotta admit, I'm running on about 3.5 hours sleep, and I've had a vaguely disturbing evening that I won't get into here, so having rambled on about bridges, I'm afraid the concert portion may be a bit.. erm.. condensed? Abridged? Haha.

We got to Toronto without incident and met up with my other friend Eric. The Sound Academy is a pretty wicked venue so far as clubs go. It's located on Toronto's waterfront, near the Distillery district, and appears that it was probably some sort of industrial building at some point. About four to five different bars scattered through out the building, which resulted in very short wait times for drinks.

Oh, a short rant towards concert merchants. Carry Women's style t-shirts in Large. We're out there. You will sell them. Or, if I ask for a woman's large, LIE. Say you had some but they are sold out. Don't make me feel like a flippin' freak because I have too much dignity to squeeze myself into a medium, by saying 'Oh we just don't have large.'

The opening band, a kind of rockabilly type group called the Strange Boys, played a pretty enjoyable set. The vocals left a bit to be desired, and the last song kind of sucked with its repeated line of "I've got my parents Pinto" but otherwise it was a pretty strong performance. They alluded to having been until recently unable to enter Canada legally. I'm guessing this is less to do with criminal records and ties to terrorist groups than it is about taking minors across the border, as none of these kids looked a day over 16.

Between sets I was lucky enough to discover a sort of lounge area decorated with assorted tables and tall stools, disco balls and white leather couches. There were also screens provided so that you could watch the concert without having to watch the concert. Which is good, because although the second openers, DeerHunter, were tolerable enough, they really didn't inspire me to want to stand in a crowd for 20-40 minutes of their set.

Oh Spoon. What can I say? If you have not had a chance to listen to them, do it. If you have heard them, and you get a chance to see them live, do it. I'm not familiar with their entire repertoire, so there were a lot of songs played I didn't know, but all were enjoyable, and I was happy that I got to hear my two favorite tracks from the album I am familiar with, Ga Ga Ga Ga, Rhythm and Soul and Don't you Evah, respectively.

Managed to get home from Toronto in the dark with my lousy sense of direction without too much mishap, which is always a good thing.

A Full Week of Wednesdays.

A co-worker once shared his opinion that of all the days of the week, Wednesday is the worst. Then, this week has been full of them.

Does nursing a broken heart ever get easier?

I walked into the Wine rack on monday evening, in what was probably a misguided effort to indulge in one evening of numbing the pain of heartbreak, as I was honestly a bit of a wreck. At the counter, I began giggling as I was struck by the question: How many times a week are the employees at establishments such as the Wine Rack, the LCBO, the Beer Store faced with patrons rushing in with tear-stained faces, looking a mess and grabbing the first thing off the shelf? I imagine this is probably most common in the former, and least the in latter. Beer Stores (or, getting all retro here - "Brewer's Retail") always strike me as being bastions of masculinity, where wanton displays of emotion would be wholly unwelcome.

Get in, get yer beer and get the heck out. No crybabies here, thanks.

The LCBO simply provides too much choice for someone who is truly on edge, emotionally. It's just confusing and overwhelming. Gin or Tequila? Sweet jesus christ, I can't make these kinds of decisions now. Waaaaaah.

Wine Racks seem to be the binary opposite of Beer Stores. Soft lighting and glass and subdued labels add a certain elegance to desperation. We're not here to judge you. Go home and drown your sorrows. We won't tell.

At any rate, I must have been a sight to behold.

In the movie 'Someone Like You' Ashley Judd goes to her doctor and asks him to remove the part of her olfactory gland that associates smell with memory. I hear that, sister.

Getting out of bed yesterday morning, I nearly stepped in cat vomit. This reminded me of an incident from around the time we had met, where my state of mind was such that even stepping cat vomit couldn't break my spirits. Gazing upon the little gift left by Chloe the kitten, I noted the irony. It starts with cat vomit, and ends with cat vomit. I also noted that perhaps a visit to the vet is in order.

Fuck, I hate being a victim of circumstances beyond my control.

I'm not particularly pleased to know that this likely not the LAST time I'll go through this, either. It takes a lot of effort not to become one of the bitter. I'm trying really hard to keep believing in the general goodness of people. We're basically flawed beings, all of us. I'm trying, hard as it may be, to believe that beneath the flaws we all possess, are the best of intentions.

I'll move on. I'll regain hope. I'll probably get my heart handed to me on a platter. AGAIN. and the cycle will continue until I get it right.

The only other option is to give up, become one of the bitter and die alone. I'm not prepared to do that.

Bizarre, bizarre frustration.

I've become convinced that one of my close childhood friends is now playing bass for a well known Canadian band whose name shall we won't mention, but let's just say it rhymes with shmalexisontire.

Same Name. Canadian Band. Said friend of mine possessed some pretty effin' awesome musical skill. Band formed in 2001, so the chronology could be accurate.

Said childhood friend and I lost touch roughly 16 years ago. Over the years I've been trying to track him down via classmates, facebook, google. etc. Connecting with other elementary school friends, I'd ask whatever became of him, but the question was always skirted.

For a while I feared him dead, which would explain people's reluctance to speak of him. For another while I thought maybe he was a porn star, which would even more greatly explain people's reluctance to speak of him (our hometown, to the best of my recollection, was quite a bit about 'keeping up appearances').

I did get one response from a guy who said he was still in touch, they played in a band together. He was a little reclusive, this mutual friend said. Not a fan of passing out contact info. That's fair, I said, and passed along my own. Not another word.

So today I saw the name.. and I've been scouring the internet for some scrap of evidence - a date of birth, a hometown (all bios I find just say 'formed in Ontario, Canada) that will either confirm or deny my suspicions. Even pics are inconclusive when one takes into consideration that A) all the pics I find are either blurry action shots B) the ones that aren't feature AIF's bassist with a huge shaggy beard and C) the last time I saw this friend, he was clean-shaven.. and 14.

I'm probably way wrong, but geez.. you'd think it'd be easier to prove myself wrong than this.



Post-script: as I type this, I just saw a website that cites the band's origin as St. Catharines, ON. There you go. Mystery solved. That killed some time.

OPen mike playlist - March 17th 2010

Had a good couple of sets at the Rye tonight. They've been promoting the open mike night and it's really catching on, so most nights I go I'm likely only able to get up for a three song set.

It was a *little* less busy tonight, likely due to many people either being away for the March Break or headed to licensed establishments for the night.

QUick breakdown of my setlist:

Lame - Seven Mary Three
Stay - Lisa Loeb (takes me back to a time when I wished I could pull off a pixie cut and distressed jeans like Wynona Ryder. I still can't pull off a pixie cut or distressed jeans, but then again I have a clean criminal record. The lesson here? You win some, you lose some)
Never Had Nobody Like You - M. Ward
July July - Decemberists

This Year - The Mountain Goats
Dog Problems - The Format (was so nervous about this one!)
Piazza New York Catcher - Belle & Sebastian
Ghosts - Laura Marling

All went well considering my throat has been subpar the last few weeks. Gradually getting more comfortable playing in public. Getting good feedback from people.

They're switching from bi-weekly to weekly jams, so you know what this means? I'm putting out a shitload in babysitting money.

that age old debate

I bought double-stuf oreos. I weigh in tomorrow. So yeah, dumbass move on my part.

I don't have much of a sweet tooth, but oreos are definitely an exception to that rule.

A friend and I discussed the age-old debate of sex versus chocolate. I think I'd actually have to pick sex. Less guilt. Plus then it's like 'OOOOhhh activity points! Now I can have another Oreo.'

If I could find a good sex:oreo balance, dear God, i would die a happy happy woman.