American Beer, Canadian Myth

Growing up in the late 70s early 80s in Central Canada I was taught that Americans made shitty swill for beer and Canadians made the good stuff. I believed it for years even though at the time all you could buy in Canada was straw coloured Molson, Labatts or O'keefe products. The story was that American canned beer was lower in alcohol and flavour. The truth was that American macrobrews were as bland as Canadian macrobrews.
To make a long sordid story short and clean I know that you yanks make good beer. Harpoon, Sierra Nevada, Sam Adams, and so many more as we make Maudite, St. Ambroise, Coup de Grisou, Sgt. something. So the moral of this story is drink it, taste it and don't worry where it was made. Focus on where it's going. In your gullet.

Last Friday we made a special beer run to Quebec and bought some gemful Cheval Blanc products. The weekend before we bought A case of Harpoon, some Magi Cat (Magic Hat?) and some Sierra Nevada. Oh and we ran into my Aunt and Uncle at a rest stop just across the US border near Brockville. We were all a bit freaked out by that.

American moves to Canada reach record high

Come on the rest of you. There's plenty of room.>>

The number of Americans admitted to Canada last year reached a 30-year high, with a 20 per cent increase over the previous year and nearly double the number that arrived in 2000.
from the CBC

Approaching

I've never been so nervous about anything in my life. Leslie is going to be living with me tomorrow. Another way to say that is that we will be living together. A subtle but significant distinction.I was never this nervous when we got married or at a job interview. If I have this bad a case of the jitters I wonder how she feels? It's nothing to do with being scared of committment either. What scares me is blowing the whole thing. Saying the wrong words. Doing the wrong thing. This isn't like before where you hang up the phone and go on with the day. This is life full time. I hope we are both ready!

I should stress that yes I am delighted. She is the best.

A Pause Before Midnight

I can't even begin to fathom my own excitement at the fact that tonight Leslie is arriving to live in Canada. I know that it is harder for her because she is leaving her familiar surroundings, her friends and family to start a new kind of life. I have to keep that fact in my own perspective. It's not going to just be all champagne and rooses for her. And yet I want her to know how happy she makes me and that I will do my best to listen and be understanding. She's so good to me. I hope this effusive post doesn't embarass her too much but I love her!

Update on Manhunt

They captured young Jesse >>

He was busting into a man's home near Portage-du-fort which is a few miles West of our cottage. you cross there to go to Renfrew on the Ontario side.

When Bad People Come to Your Neck of the Woods

Great...Leslie arrives tomorrow and there is a manhunt for an armed and dangerous serial killer in the Ottawa valley including up at Shawville where my parents are staying at the cottage. Kripes. This punk bastard strangled a man and kiled two old people. they found his truck up near Renfrew Ontario recently. I hope they find him soon or mayb a farmer will mistakenly shoot the bastard thinking it was a deer.
The story >>

The wanted man

The Witching Hour

"At last my love has come along" as the old song says. Leslie arrives tomorrow at the scheduled time of 11:59. I don't know what else to say. I can hardly believe we made it this far after so much time just dreaming.
Now we awake...

She's Coming Next Week!!!

Brutality

What the fuck is wrong with people? It's enough to make you give up on humanity >>

No Jewelers On Duty

Flickr: Photos from SNWEB.ORG Photography

An abandoned factory in Gary, Indiana. This photo is public © All rights reserved. Uploaded on May 30, 2007 · 0 comments. An abandoned factory in Gary, ...

Abandoned City

"Gary Indiana is about the closest thing I have ever seen to an abandoned city. It is becoming a modern day Mayan city, buildings remaining but people getting out.

Just across the border from Chicago, Gary is a city that has fallen on bad times. I heard a lot of things about Gary before coming there. It was supposed to have a high crime rate, white people had been warned to stay out of town. But David from Forgotten Detroit assured me it was safe to explore. Sure enough we had no problems when we were there. No one bothered us or gave us a second look. I didn't feel unsafe at any time. It was an okay place to explore. Even though whole city blocks had been abandoned and bulldozed it looked okay."

From urbanadventure.org

Gary Indiana - America's Ghost Town

I don't know why but the words Gary Indiana were ringing through my head so I looked it up. It must be mentioned in one of the millions of songs I've heard. Here is a tour of Gary Indiana courtesy of www.forbidden-places.ba




" Alecia Perkins
28 Mar 2007, 09:33
My husband and I are real estate investors and are buying properties in the Gary area. I was saddened by what I saw on a recent tour I took. The town is completely in ruins. And looks like a great plague wiped out the residents. Downtown is full of empty stores and abandoned buildings...sad indeed.

I will say that there are some efforts to revitalize Gary. However, there are brand new buildings right around the corner from the most empty and dilapidated city blocks I've ever seen. I guess efforts are being made but the new structures next to the existing crumbling ones looks really odd. I have heard contractors and developers saying that they would have better luck bulldozing the whole entire city and starting from scratch. :o( "



and don't miss The Furniture of Gary Indiana >>



Here are the lyrics. they are by LA 'punk' band X circa 1984. They were commenting on the Reagan USA but remain salient:

Honest to goodness the bars weren't open this morning
They must have been voting for the president or something
"do you have a quarter?"
I said yes because I did
Honest to goodness the tears have been falling all over the country's face
It was better before before they voted for whats his name, this is suppose to be the New World
Flint, Ford auto, Mobil, Alabama, windshield wiper, Buffalo, New York, Gary, Indiana, don't forget the motor city, Baltimore and D.C.
Now all we need is, don't forget the Motor City this was suppose to be the New World All we need is money just give us what you can spare, twenty or thirty pounds of potatoes or twenty of thirty beers, a turkey on thanks giving like alms for the poor
All we need are the necessities and more
It was better before they voted for what his name, this is suppose to be the New World
Don't forget the motor city this was suppose to be the new world

Stynx

OK here it is Lorelei by the Saint Clairsville Singers



Followed by everyone's favourite "I just realized I might have an alcohol problem" song "Who Are You?" introduced by funnyman Ronald McDonald

Bears Turned Inside Out

Yes I should be asleep. I'm sick though and I simply can't. So I've been up writing e-mails to old friends, playing online scrabble reading the news. I recently got in touch with my friend Alefia from Montreal. She has a fantastic gallery of photos from a trip she took to India where her family originates. You can see it here>>

I've also recently reacquainted myself with four other old friends ranging from Grad school to way way back in Vanier Rez days at York. All of this via Face Book. The internet has proven to be a radical social element in my life. Thank god for it. My god it's how I make my living even. the strangest thing is to think back to when I started University in 1984 and for all intents and purposes there was no internet. Imagine if someone told me how I would meet all of these people including and especially Leslie as well as make a career based upon presenting information through this medium? It would have sounded ludicrous.

Now for the bears turned inside out. This series of photographs takes me back to when I was a child. my mother sewed a lot of stuffed animals for us including a Pooh bear that I still possess. I not only appreciated the craft that went into making these creatures, but there was a magic seeing them go from inside out to a "living" thing. it was magic to my young mind when all the sewn up bits folded in on themselves and burst open as a bear or tiger or piglet. Ah piglet where are you now?

Here is the site>>

Squirrel Attack

I heard this awful scratching at the screen window behind me. It sounded like a cat was trying to get in. I live on a high second floor of an old house. It wasn't a cat. It was a squirrelly squirrel. he wasn't very afraid of me or the dog either. I clanked some bottles together and he leaped onto the wall of the back staircase like spider-man. He stared back at me for a while I hissed and he took his time going back down. I hope he doesn't figure out that there is no screen on the sun room!

Take One For the Boss

Bush intervened on the sentencing of Scooter Libby. It's true the laws that apply to everyone don't apply to cronies. Take the fall and get a free pass.

Babe

I woke up from a nap yesterday with that awful Styx song "Babe" running through my head. I don't own that song and haven't consciously heard it since when? I took Luna for a walk and as we walked down Coburg a car pulls over and parks. Guess what song the driver was playing? Yes. Play if you dare!!!

Blog Fusion Confusion

There are two Glob and Wails now. This one and one that looks the same but contains everything prior to May 2007. I had to do this because it takes forever to publish to any of three servers I tried. I'm not sure why but this blogspot version will be the new version.

Last Weekend

Dave contemplating his return to Tokyo, having another beer, suicide and the latest issue of Hustler all at the same moment.


John and his daughter Chloe


The couple I met at Lee's Palace and then again the next day at the Distillery and yet again later on in the day. She is from Kanata originally. His name is Peter. They invited me for a drink and that's all I know.


John and his daughter Chloe in reflection and upside-down.

Do I Hate Bell Canada?

Yes. For more information please contact your local "I Hate Bell Canada" chapter.

The Best of Globalization

The 21st century is bound to be full of headlines like this:
"Russian 'ninja' arrested in Italy" from the BBC >>

How about "Moroccan Dog Sled Racer Crashes in Cambodia" or "Melanesian Moose Hunter Injured in Albania"

From Dinosaur Jr to John Doe

After a very pricey dinner Dave and I heded to the Phoenix to see Dinosaur Jr. I wasn't to sure if I wanted to see them because they have a reputation for bing enormously loud. As it turned out they were only letting 100 NXNEerners in. Even with his "all access" pass we were turned away. We then hopped on the College St car and went west getting off in Little Italy. We walked south to Queen and went to some hole that had a band from Tokyo playing. It was a three piece with a really tiny female bass player in a groovy kimino.Nothing special musically.

The strangest thing was that Dave met a guy at this show that he had met at the Fujifest in Tokyo last year. Even stranger the guy lives in his building in TO.

We stayed for the next band "Vulcan Dub Grip". They were very young. The band itself was entertaining but the singer was supermelodramatic and had a weak voice. In fact he was annoying.

We then walked up to Lee's Palace on Bloor to see John Doe (of X fame) and the Sadies. That brought back a lot of memories for me. They still have the same cartoon mural on the outside. We had to wait in line but the doorman saw Dave had his All Access pass and told us to come on in. John Gomeshi of Moxy Fruvious /CBC noteriety was in our way at the bar buying shots of some dark liquid.

John Doe played acoustic, then electric, then with the Sadies and then added Kathleen Edwards. He did a nice version of Poor Little Girl and More Fun in the New World, a critique of the Reagan era that sadly rang as true today as back then.

So that was last night

Today we went for Brunch, saw Wooffest ( a dog fair in the St. Lawrence Market) and had a drink on a patio. John and Karen are coming tonight and maybe Kirk and I wish Leslie was here to join in the fun.

NXNE

I'm in Toronto for the NXNE music festival thanks to Dave H. I have no idea who any of the bands ae but it shuld be fun. Dave is covering events for the media.

I left a sunny Ottawa and arrived in TO just in time for a huge downpour with some wicked wind. There was a sad scene on the bus this morning. There was one seat left without a struggle next to an Asian gentleman. A black woman came on the bus and asked to sit there. He refused to remove his bag from the seat next to him. She was very polite but firm. Still he would not budge. The bus driver asked him and he refused. Another terminal employee also a black woman asked him to move the bag or get off the bus. He moved the bag but he sat in the aisle seat and refused to let the black woman get past him without a struggle.

No one got off until Scarborough and as soon as there was a free seat the man moved. Sad but true.

Now I am off to get some wine for Maria and beer for the rest.

Departing

A day of sadness and relief. This week I was given my own office. One year ago this week I was working in a corporate environment with my supervisor literally looking over my shoulder for the entire day...day after day, as his work station (ugh what a mugly term) was right behind me. Now I work a few blocks away on the same street and I have my own damned office. No one looks over my freaking shoulder...they knock or say hello. And they all are friendly. Imagine.

Last summer was a combination of humiliation, degradation and money. It was only worth it as a point of reference and to pay some bills. It allowed my honey to come visit of course so there was refuge in the dissonance. However it stripped me raw. Raw like a bleached femur in a Jackal pit. Yep, just like that.

But autumn took its turn and in that rusty dance I found some wonder. Thank you for that trip John and Sharon. I have so many strong images from that drive from Ottawa to Algonquin, the cottage in Parry Sound and on to Owen Sound.

Sitting by the water with the autumn sun shining on the water, my dear friend made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Thank you for that moment and that idea.

Not long after a barely employed James made his way to Colorado and the cogs of the galaxy started to grind and churn. then I found my place in this world. With my love and with my city and with that unnamed thing that winds it's way through evrything.

It was along time coming and there are things to tend to always, but I feel like I am finally out of the mire.

if I am wrong that's ok too, but I don't think that I am.

My First and Only Lolcat Post

Party Pooper?

I guess that I'm really not a sports fan. I hope Ottawa loses tonight so i can get some sleep. People are too freaking loud. They have a stereo outside in the backyard and, yes I was a party pooper and called the "by-law" in. I was trying to apply a javaScript to a clients Web site and the damned neighbours are so loud the stereo actually sounds like it's in the room. Anyway it only hit 49 decibels when the "By-law" ( as they called them on the phone) came by to do a sound reading. They needed 50. They said to call back at 11 on the dot. So I will. last time this went on until 1 am. Payback for a mispent youth I guess if you like, but I know my rights and I'm using them.

I don't usually follow much hockey but this year my home town team is vying for the Stanley Cup. It's the Ottawa Senators vs the Anaheim Mighty Ducks. There are many reasons we need to win: A Canadian team hasn't won the cup since 1993 when the Montreal Canadiens beat Los Angeles. The other team is called "the Ducks" and is named after a Disney movie. Ottawa fans are deeply devoted to their team so a win would be the ultimate party for the city. I had just moved to Montreal the last year they won the cup so it would also be nice to be in another cup winning city. That was the 100th year of the Stanley Cup and also the year the Senators were reborn into the NHL. I don't really watch much hockey but I am enjoying the spectacle. So far it's 2:1 Anaheim:Ottawa in the play-offs.

The five tastes

We all know about sweet, bitter, salty and sour, but what about umami? Umami is one of five receptor families we have for taste. Umami is Japanese and means something akin to "savoury". It is a sensation we recieve when we detect glutumate and ribonucleotides in food. It can be sensed in "ripe tomatoes, parmesan cheese, cured ham, mushrooms, meat and fish".

More Info

"Who's umami? Human taste now comes in five flavours" CBC >>

Umami Information Center >>

A tutorial on the sense of taste Compiled by Tim Jacob Cardiff University, UK >>

Red Meet Blue

Homeless Wino Look

Nick Cave's latest look.

Picco

Summer's Cauldron

Okay. In the world of the Glob today is the first day of the summer of 2007. Not only because it was a perfect warm and sunny day but everyone is coming out of their winter hibernation. This weekend there is a pow-wow just outside of Ottawa. there will be dancing, drumming crafts and uhm caribou burgers. Over 10,000 attendees from all over are expected. Then there is my first summer BBQ of the season Saturday night. In early June I will be attending the NXNE music festival with an all access pass courtesy of Big Dave the one-time tallest being in Tokyo after Godzilla. Then the cottage season soon follows and then the Blues Festival in July (I think) with headliner Bob Dylan.

I had a long chat with Kirk this evening. It was good to catch up. It's weird but I do hibernate in the dark cold winter months even in terms of using the phone. In a way blogging more frequently is tied into this.

What I Learned from Dr. Suess

Looming over the landscape of some important character building moments in my life is the figure of Dr. Seuss. Here in short is what I learned:

Sneetches: Sociology. Class and social dynamics

The Lorax: Marxist critque. The relationship between unchecked capitalism,industrialism and private ownership of natural resources

Green Eggs and Ham: Independent Thought. What I was 'supposed' to learn was to be open-minded and try new things. What I actually got out of this book was the importance of sticking to your guns in the face of unyielding manipulation.

The Cat in the Hat: Deviancy Theory. That bizarre and wonderful things can happen behind your parent's backs.

Mr.Brown Can Moo! Can You?: Self help. That both Mr. Brown and I can moo.

The Foot Book: Linguistics. One set of phonemes can have semantic references that are at once generic and simultaneously multivalent.

Horton Hears a Who!: Spirtuality. That even the largest of creatures can share sentiments with microscopic beings. Cosmic brotherhood/sisterhood etc...

The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins: Literary Criticism. That when he wasn't rhyming Dr. Seuss was kind of dry and sucky.

and of course

How the Grinch Stole Christmas: Zen. Things are what you make of them.

More strange google maps findings. This is in the middle of the island of " West Papua New Guinea" on the Indonesian side right near the border 0of the actual Nation of Papua New Guinea

The Best Present Ever

For the second anniversary of our meeting in April 2005, Leslie and I returned to Boston where (granted she had to visit Wellesley in any case but the karma factor always has been at play in our trips to Boston)she surprised with what I can only describe as the best present any one has ever given me. Andy Partridge's Fuzzy Warbles box set.



It's a collection of 9 discs of XTC demos, outtakes, experiments and unreleased gems. She is probably the only person on the planet who would have known how excited I would be to get this. The kicker being that I didn't even know it existed.

The packaging is put together to look like a children's stamp collecting book. It took me a few moments to figure out just what was going. on. Is this an Atlas? A game? Wait Andy Partridge? XTC. I flipped the box over and saw the titles of 161 XTC/Andy Partridge songs most of which I had never heard in the form they appear here. That's 498 minutes of music by one of my all time favourites that I didn't even know existed.

What a gem. And I'm referring to Leslie.

Surf's Up

I always wanted a skateboard. When I was twelve I begged my parents to buy me one. Funny thing was that technique worked for so many things but not for the skateboard, or the pet monkey. At some point I realized I wasn't getting a monkey or a skateboard. I resorted to other tactics. Fortune left me with a choice one fine day in the form of a neighbourhood kid's skateboard left in our driveway. Who was I to say no thanks to the gods. Especially after all that praying. I didn't know who to pray to but I figured quantity would prevail and just prayed to the whole darned Universe in an early spiritual version of spam.

So I had a skateboard. I also had access to a can of silver spray paint. Soon I dubbed my new polyurethane board "the Silver Surfer". The biggest problem was that I couldn't use it in front of any other humans. I snuck it out into the parking lot of the Nursing Home when no one was around and learned how not to fall as much and how to avoid breaking my skull in exchange for twisting my ankle.

One day, well a three days later actually, my mother asked me a very significant question: "Have you seen Craig's skateboard?" Craig's mother Mrs. Pitt had called. I did what any child would do. I lied. "No. No I haven't" and left the room in a classic avoidance strategy.

A guilt trip followed. From my mother but also from that annoying little voice in my head. I came up with what I was certain was a clever plan. I waited a day and reported that I may have seen the skateboard in a ditch nearby. Sure enough there it was. It was returned soon thereafter and no questions were asked.

Childhood: the formative years of the criminal mind.

Flat Coated Retriever

I met a new dog in the park on the weekend. A Flat Coated Retriever. It is related to the St. John's Water dog which is the ancestor of the Newfoundland, the Labs and the Golden Retriever as well. A mighty fine pedigree. She was a very sweet dog. She has a bearish head somewhere between a Lab and a Newf. Such good temper and a nice long coat. in brief, I want one.

Watching the Paint Dry

The infamous "They" say that "you" can take an interesting photograph in any setting. I gave it my best shot on the balcony late in the afternoon on Daly Avenue.

Fear and Loathing in Zeller's

Let this post serve as an unnecessary reminder to never live in the suburbs. No offence is meant to anyone who chooses to live there, but they are not for me. I found myself venturing to suburban strip mall land today to buy an ironing board padded cover. I probably could have gone to the Rideau mall which is glamourous and sophisticated when compared to the Zeller's and Dollarama on St. Laurent, but that is too routine. Some of the sites I enjoyed:

• Pushy obese teenage girls
• Piped in 70s music
• Aisles of junk made in China that will end up in the trash or stashed in someone's basement in less than a year
• Screaming children and yelling mothers
• Men with car stereos so loud that their car frames buzz
• Consumer zombies (okay was one too, but that wasn't much fun)
• The smell of fear that permeates the atmosphere (or was that just plastic and sweat?)
  

So, no I won't be going back to soon. Unless of course I need another ironing board cover. Come on, I needed one. I'm a grown up now.

Today the World Went Green

When I write "Today the World Went Green" I mean my world. When I write "my world" I mean Ottawa. This morning the buds popped. By afternoon the were unwinding slow spinning green. This evening they are young leaves, changing the landscape, hiding views, bringing shade from the same sun that drives them out of the wood.

Springtime in Boston

Gasoline Alley

http://www.rogerclarkart.com/art/ga/1924-det-1924-11-16Full.html

Google maps weirdness. What is it?

Let it Snow, Let it Snow Let it WHAT???

I woke up this morning with Elvis singing Christmas tunes running through my head. We had a crazy green Christmas and t-shirt weather in January. Now we have too much snow for April.

Anniversary

Two Years Ago Today Leslie and I met in Boston.

June Callwood April 14, 2007

June Callwood was one of the Canadian public figures who seemed immortal to me. Like Trudeau, Pierre Berton and even Don Harron, she was around long before I was born and continued to be active in the public sphere as I passed from childhood to adulthood. Like the St. Lawrence River or the Rocky Mountains she seemed to a part of the natural scenery of Canada. Having said this I never really was aware of her many achievements, beyond the fact that she was a social activist and appeared on the CBC. Growing up she seemed famous for being famous. In reality she was a woman of remarkable achievement of which I am only now aware of as the media commemorates her life. From the CBC:

a founding member of the Writers' Union of Canada, the Writers' Development Trust, Canadian PEN, the Canadian Civil Liberties Association and the Canadian Association for the Repeal of Abortion Laws, the president of a prostitutes' community organization and a bencher of the Law Society of Upper Canada.

I hope that it's not too trite to say wow, but "Wow!" On top of it all she was a respected journalist and the author of 30 books. She survived poverty, severe depression and battled cancer in her final years. There are few public figures that I find admirable but she is definitely one of them.

Big-Wigs Say the Darndest Things

Former Ford big-wig Lee Iococca has something to say about the Bushocracy in his new book Where have All the Leaders Gone?

Am I the only guy in this country who's fed up with what's happening? Where the hell is our outrage? We should be screaming bloody murder. We've got a gang of clueless bozos steering our ship of state right over a cliff, we've got corporate gangsters stealing us blind, and we can't even clean up after a hurricane much less build a hybrid car. But instead of getting mad, everyone sits around and nods their heads when the politicians say, "Stay the course."

Stay the course? You've got to be kidding. This is America, not the damned Titanic. I'll give you a sound bite: Throw the bums out!

You might think I'm getting senile, that I've gone off my rocker, and maybe I have. But someone has to speak up. I hardly recognize this country anymore. The President of the United States is given a free pass to ignore the Constitution, tap our phones, and lead us to war on a pack of lies. Congress responds to record deficits by passing a huge tax cut for the wealthy (thanks, but I don't need it). The most famous business leaders are not the innovators but the guys in handcuffs. While we're fiddling in Iraq, the Middle East is burning and nobody seems to know what to do. And the press is waving pom-poms instead of asking hard questions. That's not the promise of America my parents and yours traveled across the ocean for. I've had enough. How about you?

I'll go a step further. You can't call yourself a patriot if you're not outraged. This is a fight I'm ready and willing to have.

On Renavigating Towards the Kingdom of Wellness

Today is the first day I have felt somewhat normal in over a week. The fog is lifting and I can think in words more than images again. I just ate an orange and that had a huge impact on lifting that mental fog. I did wake up with a sore throat but that seems to be gone now for the most part. I can see the shores of wellness but it will be better once I arrive there again. Hopefully by tomorrow night in time to return to work. The blog of Delerium can then retire but after this I just may become one of those people who washes there hands fastidiously every five minutes.

More Notes From the Realm of Delerium

We all went to Jeanne's for Easter Sunday. I started off feeling so-so had some squash soup felt good for ten minutes then ran to worship at the porcelian altar. I spent the rest of the day upstairs in bed listening to everyone else laugh, play games and enjoying all the food. I did manage a game of marbles with the kids before I had to crawl away. I've been sick so long now it's hard to know what it feels like to be well. Aches, nausea, weird dreams, fevers, slashed throat, raw throat, aching ribs from so much vomiting, fatigue, chills stiffness, delerium. I think that's it. Oh no sinus congestion now and headaches. Oh also 'looking like Hell' as my sister so kindly pointed out just after telling me I looked worse than when I arrived. There.

Why share all of this misery? I guess because I feel powerless and by talking about it I at least feel like I have some control even if it is only to name what ails me. Also I'm looking forward to being well and rereading this with relief that it's over.I also feel like I let the kids down by not being as attentive as I normally am, among other things - my job, my love, - so we can throw guilt into the mess.

Sick of Being Sick

I'm starting to think I might have been better off staying in bed at home in Ottawa for the long weekend. last week I was very sick with a stomach flu but I wanted to come home for the Easter weekend to see my family, especially since I hadn't seen them since Christmas. I was feeling better on Thursday but yesterday I woke up with a fever and a throat infection. I'm all bloated and have been sick to my stomach alot. It's hard to think straight after one week of feeling like I have been floating. I am kind of worried as I can't remember ever being this sick for so long. I'm also worried because I have to go back to work on Tuesday and I need to feel much better than this just to function. I feel like I'm slipping back and forth between being coherent and in a fog. Last night things were very strange and I was kind of sleepwalking. Right now it feels like I've stepped out of time if that makes any sense at all. I just want to be better. Good health is such a wonderful thing that we take for granted.

Merry Christmas

Christmas has come early in 2007 or else this is the stand in Christmas for the Green Christmas of 2006. When I left Ottawa on Thursday I decided to take the bus to Toronto. We drove through four different snow squals with one real white out and a hail storm. I'm glad that I wasn't driving through that myself. As Leslie can tell you James and winter driving aren't the best combo, although having a monster truck does help.

I arrived to a cold windy Toronto where I had an hour to wait before my friend Dave H met me for lunch. I see that Yonge and Dundas is trying to get a Times Square type of thing going but it looks pretty shabby with that giant Labatts Blue beer can dominating things. I checked out Sams which still exists despite my worst fears. They had most of Neil Youngs recent reissues of newly remastered recordings on sale so I grabbed three of the harder to find discs, Zuma, On the Beach and Hawks and Doves.

Our favourite Italian bar by the Bus terminal has been relaced by a Starbucks. Sad but true. Maria met us in what is likely the most poorly designed bus terminal in any major city in North America. You have to wait for the bus outside standing amid the buses breathing their fumes and dodging them as they make the tight turns between the lines of awaiting passengers. Not to mention the wicked wind that blows through there. it's crazy and sad that such a major city has such an unfortunate bus terminal. To top it off they had people standing in the aisle of the bus we were on as there was not enough seating.

I'm in Owen Sound now and it's white as December (should have been) It's been snowing since Thursday and we had one more fresh blanket descend this morning. It's actually quite lovely except for the poor tulips that were tricked into coming out last week.

Today I will do a bit of shopping and then go see Grindhouse with my bro-in-law. Unfortunately I woke up this morning feeling like someone had slit my throat in the night. A lovely addition to the stomach flu I've had since last Monday. I felt guilty starting my first day as a permanent staff member being sent home after vomiting three times at work. At least I have sick leave now.

Tomorrow we are having Easter dinner celebrations at my sister's I hope I am feeling better by then as Monday I have a 12 hour trip back to Ottawa and need to be in ship shape to get back to work for Tuesday.

I've been sick a lot sonce last fall and the irony is I have been living healthier than ever diet and exercise wise. What the hell is with that? Maybe its all the stress of the radical changes in my life or maybe its just being out in the 'real world' more now. In either case I am so sick of feeling sick.

Urine Trouble Now

From the United press International:
"A middle school student from Muncie, Ind., is facing expulsion after admitting he put urine inside a coffee pot used by one of his teachers." Details >>

"A British dentist may have his license revoked after it was alleged he urinated in a surgical sink, among other things." Details >>

Sad Things Found on the Web: #3865

The State of the Nation

Holy crap. Do I love the Shins. Yes. Yes I do. I can't believe this is a recent band because this is like I'm going back to 1982 and discovering all these amazing British bands and there are the Shins. Except there weren't the Shins.

Did someone take my favourite lps and process them through some Google master music maker algorithm? Because this is what you would get. Except for the silly name. On second thought the name works in this context.

Saint Simon is one of my favourite songs period. It's so rich the entire song could be an album.

Good God. I'm going to go out and buy all there cds tomorrow. I haven't craved music like this since I was in my early 20s. Embarrassing because it's a simple thrill? I'm not saying you will love it or even like it but I do. I do.

New York Groove

You know what's a great song? New York Groove by Ace Frehley. This is from that KISS solo lp (did you spot the paradox anyone?) in the late 70s. This song is clearly the result of Marc Bolan and Lou Reed producing a love child who then possessed the cosmic Kiss member.

The Lost Comic Books: an illustrated history

It's the summer 1973 and I am 7 years old. The sky is overcast and the air is cool. The pine needles are beaded with globes of rain. It's just me and my father at the cottage. I don't know where my mother and sisters are. Wherever they have gone they have taken the car because later my father and I walk to Carmichael's general store in Bristol. I'm reading a comic book on that grey afternoon. Sitting on the shelf above an antique dresser are old sleeping bags, rolled up and tied like hay bales smelling of napthalene mothballs. The comic book I am reading is called The Brave and the Bold. The story is eerie. There is a man from India who has visions, another man who transforms into a demon and another man who has risen from the dead after 100 years and there is the Batman. I am 7 years old and I am awe struck by this scenario. The images are so intense that they will stay with me through the years if only as lingering shadows in the corners of my mind.





That was the first comic book story I remember. I had comic books before this but I can't remember complete stories, but nonetheless whose panels form an arcane mosaic in my memory. At some point I started to save these 20 cent pulp and ink pamphlets and as the years passed the piles accumulated like so much sediment on shelves. This was years before the fanatic comic book collecting culture of today. A comic book then lived and breathed outside of a coffin of plastic poly bag and cardboard backing. In these times comic books served as coasters for glasses of kool-aid, were brought to the beach, were rolled up and stuck in a back pocket. Pages were cut out and pinned on the wall, images were traced in blue ballpoint pen. Crosswords were filled out and covers torn off.

My favourite comic books at the age of seven told the stories of Superman and Batman in Action Comics, Detective Comics and World's Finest published by National Periodical Publications Inc. 909 Third Avenue, New York, New York, otherwise known as DC comics. By the time I was 10 the comic books that I once enjoyed seemed juvenile and unsophisticated to me. Somewhere around 1976 my preferences shifted towards Spider-man and his monthly angst. The Marvel comics banner on a cover became a standard of quality adventure to my young eyes. The DCs moved to the closet but it would be a few years before I decided to part with them altogether. I barely remember when this happened. I think that my mother probably had a garage sale and that was that. The accumulated strata of 4 years of childhood adventures blew away like dust in an afternoon.

I saved just five issues from that newsprint trove. Two 100 page Super-Spectaculars that my father had given me for Christmas. Batman and the Flash, A Green Lantern DC Special also a Christmas gift and two of the earliest and eeriest issues my mother had bought for me at the Woolworths in the Westgate Mall in Ottawa. Those being an issue of the Justice League of America in which the ancient wizard Felix Faust opens up a gateway to the netherworld one Halloween evening in Rutland Vermont. The other an issue of Wanted that reprinted a 1940s story of the original Green Lantern battling the reanimated corpse of Solomon Grundy. Given these scenarios is it any wonder that years later I would be drawn towards the stories of HP Lovecraft that so clearly spoke through these old comic books.



Years passed, I grew older and comic books moved to the periphery of my life. There were times as an adult where I would come across one of those old DC comics at a flea market or in a bookstore and whether I was reading Shakespeare or Joyce, Foucault or Derrida the power that these musty old newsprint pulps had over me remained. I would pick them up when I came across them but I never actively sought them out. One year in Montreal Nikki and I went to a comic book convention. I was 29 and despite my love for my old comic books I had never been a part of that fan culture nor wanted to be. The comic books were satisfying in themselves. By this time though the thought of seeing some old long lost friends was appealing and I was drawn to the convention floor where table after table of junk was being bartered. I did however come across an old comic book that I had when I was 6 years old. It was an issue of Shazam. One of the 100 page Super-Spectacular series. Images of our home in Nepean in 1973 rushed over me. I could see my father coming home from work and handing me this treasure. It's very thickness promising thrill after thrill.



Somewhere along the way that charge of reclaiming my childhood set in and I wanted all of that lost DC collection back. I promised myself that if I ever had the income to do so I would. That time arrived this year.

LOOK!
Looking at these comic books again sometimes for the first time in over thirty years it is astounding how certain images still have this emotional impact when I look at them. I thought i would include some (click on images for full-size view)

Hush

Midnight Mood

I lived on nothin
But dreams and train smoke
Somehow my watch and chain
Got lost.
I wish I was home in Evelyn's Kitchen
With old Gyp curled around my feet
And I hope my Pony
I hope my Pony
I hope my Pony
Knows the way back home
Tom Waits

An Historic Day

This is a day of changes both personal and political. On the personal side I signed a contract today as a permanent employee at my organization. This is a first after years of contract work and now I get benefits like paid vacations, sick leave, extended health insurance and a pension. It's been a long hard road and perhaps it's a small dream but it finally came true and as mundane as it might be it's an important one that changes everything for me.

On the political side tonight is the Quebec election. It looks like the twilight of the PQ after 30 some years as the ADQ comes within reach of forming a minority government. Even if they don't there has been an historic shift in the Quebec political landscape this evening.

Separated at Birth?

Supervillian: Poison Ivy


Supervet: Leslie

Jonathan and Karen's wedding pics

Real Life is more interesting than TV especially "reality" TV
Take this for instance. I wonder what the story is. Why is Homer Simpson at their wedding?

Comic Book Redheads