Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Tell Me Mister Know It All
Among the rather large number of things I don’t understand, one looms larger than the others today. Allow me to address it first with a simple question:
Are there quantifiable traits that go into making an excellent bar owner?
Seriously. Are there? And if there are, what might they be? In all likelihood the traits are numerous, and probably differ greatly depending upon who is answering the question. There is one, though, that, in my somewhat expert opinion, should never be exhibited by any bar owner.
He or she must not be a know-it-all.
Entering into a new business arrangement believing that you are smarter than everyone else spells doom. Know-it-alls don’t listen, they don’t watch, they don’t study, or ponder, or mull. Why? Because they already know it all.
It’s a prime example of bad thinking. It’s the sort of thinking that lead Roseanne Barr to believe she could render a splendid version of the National Anthem. It’s the sort of thinking that infected George Lucas just before he decided that Jar-Jar Binks would lend Episode I that special touch of whimsy. It is, in fact, the sort of thinking that lead to, among other things, New Coke, the Chrysler K-Car, Pickett’s charge at Gettysburg, social Darwinism, and Mr. and Mrs. Hilton’s decision to leave the rubbers in the drawer the night they conceived Paris.
Bar owning is serious business. Many owners fail to grasp this most rigid of facts, and it’s especially problematic when talking about buying an already-thriving establishment.
Which brings me, at long last, to my main point.
I have watched the purchase and subsequent downfall of several terrific bars over the last few years. These places were fully-fledged members of their neighborhoods, each with a scads of regulars, and robust weekend and “theme” night crowds. They were, in short, thriving concerns. Then, for a variety of reasons, their owners decided to sell, and each buyer seemed dumber than the next—guys who couldn’t pour water out of a boot with instructions printed on the heel.
One in particular stands out, though I’ll avoid using either its old or new name. The place was pretty much all you could want in a neighborhood tavern. The cocktail waitresses remembered your name and your usual drink, and the bartenders were total pros—long-time service people who knew when to float a free round to regulars, knew their names, and the names of their kids. For food, it offered an array of standard bar fare—nachos and the like—in addition to a compliment of yummy Greek dishes. The coolest thing, however, was that the cook was an actual chef, trained at the Culinary Institute of America, and so each day there was a special menu of stuff you almost never see in a local pub—cold blueberry bisque, spicy New Orleans gumbo, escargot in garlic butter, etc. The atmosphere of the place changed according to the time of day. Around lunchtime it attracted business people, then a late-afternoon gaggle of elderly stool-flies. A family contingent moved in for dinner, only to be replaced in the later part of the evening by a college crowd, for whom it was walking distance from campus housing. Every Wednesday was Ladies Night. Atypically, more women showed than men. Tuesdays and Saturdays, they had karaoke, and you felt embarrassed for fewer people than is usually the case. They showed sports on TV, but you couldn’t really call it a sports bar. Two pool tables lurked in the back room, host to a league night on Thursdays. You could smoke anywhere you wanted, strike up a conversation with all sorts of different people, get full, get loaded, and have a righteous ol’ time generally.
Then the owners, tired some said of their hectic lives, found a buyer and got out of the business. It happened over night.
A waitress said to me, “See that guy over there in the Aloha shirt? He’s the new owner.” As a regular, I was curious, and so went over and introduced myself. In return I got a limp handshake, and a snotty attitude. The guy didn’t give a shit, he was meeting one of his regular customers. Many of the other habitués complained of the same treatment.
And it got worse in a hurry.
First, he changed the menu. Said it cost too much to keep it supplied. Then he changed the beer selection, which had previously featured beverages from all over the world, to a bland assortment of watery American drool—he had made promotional deals with the distributors, you see. Right on the heels of that, he decreed that no waitress or bartender was to hand out free drinks. If they wanted to buy a customer a shot from their tips, that was fine, but freebies were right out. As a follow-up, he ruled that boyfriends and girlfriends of the staff were persona non grata when the staff was on duty. Over the next few weeks he cancelled the karaoke nights because he didn’t like them, he fired the chef for refusing to reuse yesterday’s fry oil, and he canned all but one of the waitresses and bartenders—all the good ones, of course. The one he kept was rude and lazy, but adhered to the new rules with malevolent gusto. He redecorated, removing the pictures of happy customers and other homey touches, replacing them with sports team and distillery neon. It had been his life-long wish, it was said, to own a real sports bar. He topped off the remodel with the installation of several plasma screen TVs, which he paid for by raising drink prices by a dollar each.
The long-time customers, some of whom had been drinking there for twenty years, were peeved and bolted in droves. The family diners found other destinations because the food now sucked. The college kids stopped coming because the place had lost its eclectic charm. Soon, all the owner had left were the stool-flies, guys who can nurse a single glass of beer for three hours, and always tip a quarter, never less never more.
He lost money by the bucketful.
I stopped by a few weeks ago, just because I was in the area and wanted a quick shot and a beer before work. I was the only customer in the place. The bartender, a surly kid with too many facial piercings, told me it’s always like this. I smiled, drank my booze, and left.
The new owner is a fool. Beyond that, he’s a know-it-all. He looked at a thriving business, thought he could make it better, and instead murdered it.
What a stooge.
Many of us drunkards want to be bar owners. When you decide to make the move, do it wisely.
I thought of a conclusion.
You know this reality is kind of true. I would be weird. I am still trying to solve the last chapter of my book. Like every work I have written I am scared to write a conclusion. A conclusion is always an end. An end is a means that I have to start a new beginning. Well what brought me to the subject of an end was my thoughts of the Great American writer, Walker Percy. When I went to the Wedding of Chip & Kerry I talked with Mrs.Percy and told her I am a writer and still working on the conclusion. She brought me a subject that her husband had a hard time finishing the ending of the Moviegoer. I know that doesn't sound right but I am just worried that I am able to finished and I won't be able to conclude it the right way or the way I wanted to start it off.
I guess writing will help me solve the solution.
I guess writing will help me solve the solution.
Damn You Tony Orlando and the your freaking Yellow Ribbon
This blog is comes from Miss Canada.
Tie a yellow ribbon 'round your SUV
It started with yellow ribbons. Yellow ribbons from the old folk song, dating all the way back to 1981, showing support for the US troops abroad. Yeah, we all thought it was an older tradition than that (see essays here and here) -- some suggest dating back to the civil war. It turns out that the practice of tying a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree really only exploded with the Scud missiles during the first Gulf Storm.If only it stopped with yellow ribbons. At one time it was a nice gesture -- a show of solidarity, support, faithfulness. Now Americans are ribbon-crazy. Next it was the AIDS awareness red ribbon. The pink breast cancer awareness ribbon. You want a list? There are millions! Black; Black and Blue; Black and Pink; Blue (Dark); Blue (Light); Blue and Yellow; Brown; Burgundy... Wait a minute, I'm not even out of the B's yet? Luckily there are kind souls willing to help us match our colour to a cause, and even sell us the ribbons to go with it -- See here.Now, I don't want to seem unpatriotic or uncharitable. I support all sorts of good things -- just not by wearing ribbons. Or by wearing pins that look like ribbons. Or even by (my favourite) slapping a magnetic ribbon onto my vehicle.Let's think about it: We put ribbons on our cars to tell the world that we support our troops. Our troops are in Iraq. They are fighting for oil. To fuel our gas-guzzling, irresponsible SUVs. Whereupon we paste ribbons to tell the world that we support our...
Tie a yellow ribbon 'round your SUV
It started with yellow ribbons. Yellow ribbons from the old folk song, dating all the way back to 1981, showing support for the US troops abroad. Yeah, we all thought it was an older tradition than that (see essays here and here) -- some suggest dating back to the civil war. It turns out that the practice of tying a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree really only exploded with the Scud missiles during the first Gulf Storm.If only it stopped with yellow ribbons. At one time it was a nice gesture -- a show of solidarity, support, faithfulness. Now Americans are ribbon-crazy. Next it was the AIDS awareness red ribbon. The pink breast cancer awareness ribbon. You want a list? There are millions! Black; Black and Blue; Black and Pink; Blue (Dark); Blue (Light); Blue and Yellow; Brown; Burgundy... Wait a minute, I'm not even out of the B's yet? Luckily there are kind souls willing to help us match our colour to a cause, and even sell us the ribbons to go with it -- See here.Now, I don't want to seem unpatriotic or uncharitable. I support all sorts of good things -- just not by wearing ribbons. Or by wearing pins that look like ribbons. Or even by (my favourite) slapping a magnetic ribbon onto my vehicle.Let's think about it: We put ribbons on our cars to tell the world that we support our troops. Our troops are in Iraq. They are fighting for oil. To fuel our gas-guzzling, irresponsible SUVs. Whereupon we paste ribbons to tell the world that we support our...
Jack & Me, and a perfect apartment for me
I tend to complain and today was a day I thought I wouldn't complain but I just feel hot and sticky. The weather itself is no fun. I am again stuck at home writing. Which of course can be a great thing. I spent most of my day at home pondering what could I do to cheer myself up. I have after all nearly finished reviewing an edited my novel. I am thinking of Jack Kerouac today. I mean, Me and Mister Kerouac have a lot of similarities and brings me to the point that I believe that I am his reinarcnate.
Here are a few similarities. Both of were raised with French Canadian Mothers and American fathers. Both were ackward as children that people found to be wierd. He tried many careers before settling into writing, like I have. He had a strange set of friends, like I do. He dropped out of Columbia, I dropped out of Ottawa. Both of us are left handed. He loved to explore new parts of America, I love visiting backwoods of areas. Both of us have trusty best friends that inspire us to write about them, he had Neal Cassidy I have Michael. Both of us have our mothers confidence to continue writing. Both of our fathers have a great sense of humor. Both are proud of there sons. Both of us, tried out for some sort of sport and failed to do something and quit, he played Football & I wrestled.
Jack was a drunk, I am a drunk. So you see there are a lot more possiblities that I can compare myself to Kerouac. But those are just a few I could think of on the spot. I was thinking of that when I went to Barnes and Nobles and found a cool post card of him and his cat. I figured it would be kind of cool to get a cat just like that. If I ever get a cat, I would get two, one named Ginsberg and the other Kerouac. Named after my two favorite beat poets.
I can imagine myself living in a small apartment with two cats in the city. Writing or at least having papers filling the rooms with poetry and articles that I deem somewhat subjectable or unsubjectable. Its just a dream I have. Of course, my dream is to get out of Houston and live in Montreal where its cooler or maybe even New York. Have a place where I can sit on my lap top and write. Ah that sounds like an ideal place to live a nice studio filled with manuscripts and papers of notes for my latest books. Bookshelves full of books of poetry and generation X stuff like Nick Hornsby and MTV Generation stuff. Records on the floor. I know it would look like a disaster but heck it would be my personal place. I would get a housekeeper to clean every 2 weeks. I would do the laundry in the basement or have my own washing machine. I was thinking a place like Patrice has,but in a str8 neighborhood. Close to everything to walk around at night. A place I can walk or ride my bike around the city. Ahh my dream apartment. I would have furnature from IKEA and stuff from home.
I can dream can't I. I know that this dream is far ahead of myself and I know I am not ready to move out on my own yet but I am slowly thinking about it. I am still trying to think what I am going to do next, like am I going to like living in Montreal or will I live in Montreal, or would I like to live in Montreal. I am saying I am going there for vacation its not like I am looking for work and staying there for a long ass time. Its a vacation.
I also want to go to Ottawa while I am there. To visit and sight see. Maybe have lunch at Minglewoods. Just explore the city. Or I may relax and take it easy. A lot too think about while waiting. I have to first figure out where to stay and when I can stay and for how long? Pretty much a lot to think about. I just want to get out of Houston soon the heat is driving me nuts.
My birthday is coming up and I am thinking I am going to be old.25 woohoo a mile stone. A quarter of a century. Yea, I am now officially going to be in my mid twenties. I am also one of those lables now. 20 somethings. YUCK. Well I can't wait to be 25. Yea, I have some fall back ideas, I mean sure 24 is great but 25 I am practically 30 but hell I am going to be happy. I am still not married, don't have a kid yet. So things are going good for me. Going to celebrate it in New Orleans, hopefully I am going to be able to go visit the quarter. I want to go to Pat O's and drink a Hurricane or two.
I also want to go to Preservation Hall to listen to some good jazz. I am thinking of all the stuff I want to do while there.
Well I am going to write more later.
Here are a few similarities. Both of were raised with French Canadian Mothers and American fathers. Both were ackward as children that people found to be wierd. He tried many careers before settling into writing, like I have. He had a strange set of friends, like I do. He dropped out of Columbia, I dropped out of Ottawa. Both of us are left handed. He loved to explore new parts of America, I love visiting backwoods of areas. Both of us have trusty best friends that inspire us to write about them, he had Neal Cassidy I have Michael. Both of us have our mothers confidence to continue writing. Both of our fathers have a great sense of humor. Both are proud of there sons. Both of us, tried out for some sort of sport and failed to do something and quit, he played Football & I wrestled.
Jack was a drunk, I am a drunk. So you see there are a lot more possiblities that I can compare myself to Kerouac. But those are just a few I could think of on the spot. I was thinking of that when I went to Barnes and Nobles and found a cool post card of him and his cat. I figured it would be kind of cool to get a cat just like that. If I ever get a cat, I would get two, one named Ginsberg and the other Kerouac. Named after my two favorite beat poets.
I can imagine myself living in a small apartment with two cats in the city. Writing or at least having papers filling the rooms with poetry and articles that I deem somewhat subjectable or unsubjectable. Its just a dream I have. Of course, my dream is to get out of Houston and live in Montreal where its cooler or maybe even New York. Have a place where I can sit on my lap top and write. Ah that sounds like an ideal place to live a nice studio filled with manuscripts and papers of notes for my latest books. Bookshelves full of books of poetry and generation X stuff like Nick Hornsby and MTV Generation stuff. Records on the floor. I know it would look like a disaster but heck it would be my personal place. I would get a housekeeper to clean every 2 weeks. I would do the laundry in the basement or have my own washing machine. I was thinking a place like Patrice has,but in a str8 neighborhood. Close to everything to walk around at night. A place I can walk or ride my bike around the city. Ahh my dream apartment. I would have furnature from IKEA and stuff from home.
I can dream can't I. I know that this dream is far ahead of myself and I know I am not ready to move out on my own yet but I am slowly thinking about it. I am still trying to think what I am going to do next, like am I going to like living in Montreal or will I live in Montreal, or would I like to live in Montreal. I am saying I am going there for vacation its not like I am looking for work and staying there for a long ass time. Its a vacation.
I also want to go to Ottawa while I am there. To visit and sight see. Maybe have lunch at Minglewoods. Just explore the city. Or I may relax and take it easy. A lot too think about while waiting. I have to first figure out where to stay and when I can stay and for how long? Pretty much a lot to think about. I just want to get out of Houston soon the heat is driving me nuts.
My birthday is coming up and I am thinking I am going to be old.25 woohoo a mile stone. A quarter of a century. Yea, I am now officially going to be in my mid twenties. I am also one of those lables now. 20 somethings. YUCK. Well I can't wait to be 25. Yea, I have some fall back ideas, I mean sure 24 is great but 25 I am practically 30 but hell I am going to be happy. I am still not married, don't have a kid yet. So things are going good for me. Going to celebrate it in New Orleans, hopefully I am going to be able to go visit the quarter. I want to go to Pat O's and drink a Hurricane or two.
I also want to go to Preservation Hall to listen to some good jazz. I am thinking of all the stuff I want to do while there.
Well I am going to write more later.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
A boring Sunday
This has truely been a boring sunday.
I mean you know Sundays have always been boring. I know I don't do much on Sundays, I am usually sick but today I have a headache and I have a terrible pain in the legs and arms. My muscles feel weak. The weather isn't much help either. Today is Father's day and well I am stuck inside again. The whole thing with Amy is still worse off then before. It seems like this fight will last another day. So why fight it right.
Today, I am planning on staying home and relaxing at home and watch a dvd. I am thinking of watching either Superman or try to sleep. Well I finished earlier this weekend watching The Prisoner the entire series. That to me was pretty cool. I liked that show, it was a great series, and to think they don't make good shows like that anymore. Patrick McGoohan is a terrific actor. He played King Longshanks in Braveheart. I am thinking I am going to buy the series or at least order it from Barnes & Nobles and use the money I save from the house cleaning to buy it.
Well, I don't know what to do today. Infact, I don't know what to do tommorow either. Hell, it kind of sucks when Ihave no plans. I used to have plans. Now I just feel like they are all tossed up in the air. Last night, I went out to eat with my parents and I tried to see Amy before getting in a wreck which nearly killed me. So I have a swollen arm. That sucks. So I have a swollen arm and a terrible headache.
My eyes are so droopy that I feel like I am going to hit the keyboard falling asleep,but I also know that once I hit the pillow I won't sleep.
Nothing is on t.v. and I am bored. :-(. I am hungry too. I am going to raid the refrigrator. See what can I. Hopefully there are some hotpockets left or some meat balls. At least that will fill me up. Hmm! I did the tacky room added some pictures on my wall. I think I am going to ask mom to take me to Barnes and Nobles so I can pick up some post cards of pictures of comedians to put on my wall. Hopefully she says yes. i really need to get out of the house. My feet are killing me. Hmm. I hate lupus. I just wish I knew what to do.:-( AH I GOT AN IDEA!
NAH!
Well I will write more later.
I mean you know Sundays have always been boring. I know I don't do much on Sundays, I am usually sick but today I have a headache and I have a terrible pain in the legs and arms. My muscles feel weak. The weather isn't much help either. Today is Father's day and well I am stuck inside again. The whole thing with Amy is still worse off then before. It seems like this fight will last another day. So why fight it right.
Today, I am planning on staying home and relaxing at home and watch a dvd. I am thinking of watching either Superman or try to sleep. Well I finished earlier this weekend watching The Prisoner the entire series. That to me was pretty cool. I liked that show, it was a great series, and to think they don't make good shows like that anymore. Patrick McGoohan is a terrific actor. He played King Longshanks in Braveheart. I am thinking I am going to buy the series or at least order it from Barnes & Nobles and use the money I save from the house cleaning to buy it.
Well, I don't know what to do today. Infact, I don't know what to do tommorow either. Hell, it kind of sucks when Ihave no plans. I used to have plans. Now I just feel like they are all tossed up in the air. Last night, I went out to eat with my parents and I tried to see Amy before getting in a wreck which nearly killed me. So I have a swollen arm. That sucks. So I have a swollen arm and a terrible headache.
My eyes are so droopy that I feel like I am going to hit the keyboard falling asleep,but I also know that once I hit the pillow I won't sleep.
Nothing is on t.v. and I am bored. :-(. I am hungry too. I am going to raid the refrigrator. See what can I. Hopefully there are some hotpockets left or some meat balls. At least that will fill me up. Hmm! I did the tacky room added some pictures on my wall. I think I am going to ask mom to take me to Barnes and Nobles so I can pick up some post cards of pictures of comedians to put on my wall. Hopefully she says yes. i really need to get out of the house. My feet are killing me. Hmm. I hate lupus. I just wish I knew what to do.:-( AH I GOT AN IDEA!
NAH!
Well I will write more later.
Saturday, June 18, 2005
So Dick Durbin hates the Military.So Freaking What.
Senator Dick Durbin (D-IL) is a good man and I understand what he really meant by comparing the treatment of prisoners at Gitmo to Stalin, Hitler, and Paul Pot. He wasn’t bashing the troops, but the government policy of torture. And no, the torture policy of the US isn’t equal to the three regimes Durbin mentioned, but any torture is bad no matter who does it and to what extent. The German Nazis torturing Jews is torture, but so is US policy of allowing prisoners to defecate on themselves and to attack them with dogs. There’s also a difference between “comparing” and “equating”. Equating is like saying 3=3. Comparing is like saying 3 and 5 are both prime numbers, odd numbers, and less than 6. So Durbin was comparing, not equating. Also, Durbin wasn’t blaming the troops or blaming the US, but bush and the government policy. The guards at the prison were just using tactics given to them by the bushies to soften up and torture the prisoners for some reason I don’t know. So Durbin was actually “blaming the government”. Hmmmmm that sounds like what a conservative would do. But the conservatives now own all four branches of the government, so they fuck their own platform. I think bush and the ‘cans are the ones who really hate the troops; they send them to die in a war that was fought because of a lie.
I can talk about torture and moral relativism until the cows come home, but let me say one final thing about Durbin: HE SAID NOTHING WRONG. Why don’t we talk about all the ‘cans comparing liberals to Stalinists and Nazis. Rush limbaugh, the vulgar pigboy keeps calling feminists “feminazis” just for wanting equal pay and opportunities. And look what I found on his limbaugh’s quote page at his website today:
“Since the fall of the Soviet empire, the new home of socialists and quasi-communists is the environmental movement.”
Whoa whoa whoa, is limbaugh-the-hut morally “equating” Stalin, Castro, Lenin, Mao, Krushchev, Kim Jong Ill, and Paul Pot to environmentalists who keep our air, water, and land clean? Or is he “comparing”? Heh heh
I can talk about torture and moral relativism until the cows come home, but let me say one final thing about Durbin: HE SAID NOTHING WRONG. Why don’t we talk about all the ‘cans comparing liberals to Stalinists and Nazis. Rush limbaugh, the vulgar pigboy keeps calling feminists “feminazis” just for wanting equal pay and opportunities. And look what I found on his limbaugh’s quote page at his website today:
“Since the fall of the Soviet empire, the new home of socialists and quasi-communists is the environmental movement.”
Whoa whoa whoa, is limbaugh-the-hut morally “equating” Stalin, Castro, Lenin, Mao, Krushchev, Kim Jong Ill, and Paul Pot to environmentalists who keep our air, water, and land clean? Or is he “comparing”? Heh heh
Well! :-)
I figured I had a wonderful morning except I had a fight with Amy. I am still trying hard to figure out what I did wrong. Well I think I did a few things wrong like I had see Lise. The terrible witch of an ex. I also compaired Amy to Lise. Which was a terrible mistake,in my own part. I also did a few things I shouldn't do I had a pint of Smithwicks and a glass of water. I should of gotten a coke or something. I was so angry seeing Lise and Leslie that I took it out on Amy. So we are pretty much in non speaking terms for today. I also talked with these other ladies at the other end of the table, just talking with them. She said it was ok that I talked with them, but I can tell with her body language it was like No. I am so confused.
My heart feels funny after this fight, I know I have done a lot to hurt our relationship and I am trying to figure out what to do to fix it. I know I am in the dog house and the only way out is to fix it without sounding like I am fake.
Emotions are killing me, I have hard to figure out, part of me is sad, part of me is releaved. I don't know how to feel. I did to much or I did to little. I know I shouldn't let my emotions carry me and I shouldn't leash it out on the women I love. I did that before and that is why I was single for so long. I keep all my emotions inside and attack on people. I do that with every1 even my parents.
Well, ok aside from the fight I had a good morning I woke up and I started moving really funny I guess I had my head full with emotions. Well, can't figure out what to do, whether I should call her or should I let her call me.
The weather outside is hot and sticky and I am staying inside. It couldn't be much worse then it is now. I am staying in and going to grab my clothes out the dryer and fold them. Then I am going to shower and look nice to go stay in with my parents.
Well today Tulane is in the College World Series so I am going to watch the game with Dad. Pretty boring day. I am so torn between staying at home and feeling sad or going out. I think I am going to shower and shave.
I need to cheer myself up.
My heart feels funny after this fight, I know I have done a lot to hurt our relationship and I am trying to figure out what to do to fix it. I know I am in the dog house and the only way out is to fix it without sounding like I am fake.
Emotions are killing me, I have hard to figure out, part of me is sad, part of me is releaved. I don't know how to feel. I did to much or I did to little. I know I shouldn't let my emotions carry me and I shouldn't leash it out on the women I love. I did that before and that is why I was single for so long. I keep all my emotions inside and attack on people. I do that with every1 even my parents.
Well, ok aside from the fight I had a good morning I woke up and I started moving really funny I guess I had my head full with emotions. Well, can't figure out what to do, whether I should call her or should I let her call me.
The weather outside is hot and sticky and I am staying inside. It couldn't be much worse then it is now. I am staying in and going to grab my clothes out the dryer and fold them. Then I am going to shower and look nice to go stay in with my parents.
Well today Tulane is in the College World Series so I am going to watch the game with Dad. Pretty boring day. I am so torn between staying at home and feeling sad or going out. I think I am going to shower and shave.
I need to cheer myself up.
Friday, June 17, 2005
What a long day
I can't believe my day has been so boring. I spent half of the day either at home writing or cleaning or doing laundry or at the gallery waiting to go home. My muscles were killing me earlier but now they feel fine.
I am trying to figure out what I am going to do tonight. If I am going to see Amy or if I am staying home. Its hot outside and yet I feel hot inside. I feel as if I live in the freaking desert. What the hell. Am I really in the Sahara or what.
I think, that today has been a really boring day. I was also at Nancy's for 30 minutes and then it was at the Gallery for the rest of the day. I worked on set up an invoice software which took forever and then I went upstairs to talk with Bob. I was so bored that I felt like I was going to fall asleep.
I am trying to figure out what I am going to do tonight. If I am going to see Amy or if I am staying home. Its hot outside and yet I feel hot inside. I feel as if I live in the freaking desert. What the hell. Am I really in the Sahara or what.
I think, that today has been a really boring day. I was also at Nancy's for 30 minutes and then it was at the Gallery for the rest of the day. I worked on set up an invoice software which took forever and then I went upstairs to talk with Bob. I was so bored that I felt like I was going to fall asleep.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Enter the gnome
Pronounce the g's
The gnome on my windowsill told me not to do it. The sun was making his face burn, he said, so stop gnawing and move me into the shade. That’s what he said. After I had made significant progress on the twine, that’s when I picked him up. I told him to stop bossing me around, because he is only plastic. Not to mention 10 inches tall. I put him back down in the same spot, to see if he would notice. He isn’t too clever, this gnome. But I guess more so than I thought. The screech coming from him was enough to get anyone to obey.He was perpetually gnoming up my day.What I was doing with the twine was I was gnawing it. Incidentally, I was also gnawing on my lip. Only this was by accident. I was trying to untie a package. Who ties packages with twine these days? It’s the twenty-first century for crying out loud. I didn’t really. Naturally, this whole conversation was in my head.Inside was a pot. Inside the pot was dirt. Inside the dirt was a seed, which was now a bursting orchid. Bursting in that it was purple and heliotrope and then bright white. Bursting with color.I put it into the sun filled spot previously occupied by Grumpy McGnomey. HA! I told him, this orchid won’t complain. Finally I can have some peace and quiet around here.
The gnome on my windowsill told me not to do it. The sun was making his face burn, he said, so stop gnawing and move me into the shade. That’s what he said. After I had made significant progress on the twine, that’s when I picked him up. I told him to stop bossing me around, because he is only plastic. Not to mention 10 inches tall. I put him back down in the same spot, to see if he would notice. He isn’t too clever, this gnome. But I guess more so than I thought. The screech coming from him was enough to get anyone to obey.He was perpetually gnoming up my day.What I was doing with the twine was I was gnawing it. Incidentally, I was also gnawing on my lip. Only this was by accident. I was trying to untie a package. Who ties packages with twine these days? It’s the twenty-first century for crying out loud. I didn’t really. Naturally, this whole conversation was in my head.Inside was a pot. Inside the pot was dirt. Inside the dirt was a seed, which was now a bursting orchid. Bursting in that it was purple and heliotrope and then bright white. Bursting with color.I put it into the sun filled spot previously occupied by Grumpy McGnomey. HA! I told him, this orchid won’t complain. Finally I can have some peace and quiet around here.
Hockey is not on
A barren, hockeyless land
So I have learned that there is no International Hockey World Championship coverage at all in the US. Because ESPN refused to buy coverage (claiming something to do with the hockey strike), and because the other TV channels couldn't afford to.
The only way to watch online (as far as I can see) is through Mediazone. This costs $7.99 per quarter final game, and $9.99 per semi/medal game. Or $39.99 for an all-access pass. Fox cut a deal with Mediazone to offer coverage for a bargain: $34.99, but the Fox Sports Grill in town isn't even showing it.
I sucked it up and spent the ten-spot on the Gold medal game since Canada (more or less undeservedly) made it to the finals. God knows where Mediazone got their commentators, but the experience was a far cry from Hockey Night in Canada, or TSN. One commentator had a British accent, and the other sounded Dutch. Or South African. Or something. All of these countries known for their hockey, of course.
The live streaming was decent, I suppose, but deficiencies (either on my end or theirs) tended to make the whole game look like a slow-mo replay. I could rarely see the puck, as it moved faster than the transmission could show.
In future, I will hunt out a good sports bar with a satellite dish that carries TSN and I will arrange to watch all the games there. I recommend that any sports bar in a non-Hockey town that is looking to carve a niche should really try to cater to all of us Canadian ex-pats who love and miss hockey -- even if just because it reminds us of home.
So I have learned that there is no International Hockey World Championship coverage at all in the US. Because ESPN refused to buy coverage (claiming something to do with the hockey strike), and because the other TV channels couldn't afford to.
The only way to watch online (as far as I can see) is through Mediazone. This costs $7.99 per quarter final game, and $9.99 per semi/medal game. Or $39.99 for an all-access pass. Fox cut a deal with Mediazone to offer coverage for a bargain: $34.99, but the Fox Sports Grill in town isn't even showing it.
I sucked it up and spent the ten-spot on the Gold medal game since Canada (more or less undeservedly) made it to the finals. God knows where Mediazone got their commentators, but the experience was a far cry from Hockey Night in Canada, or TSN. One commentator had a British accent, and the other sounded Dutch. Or South African. Or something. All of these countries known for their hockey, of course.
The live streaming was decent, I suppose, but deficiencies (either on my end or theirs) tended to make the whole game look like a slow-mo replay. I could rarely see the puck, as it moved faster than the transmission could show.
In future, I will hunt out a good sports bar with a satellite dish that carries TSN and I will arrange to watch all the games there. I recommend that any sports bar in a non-Hockey town that is looking to carve a niche should really try to cater to all of us Canadian ex-pats who love and miss hockey -- even if just because it reminds us of home.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Canuck N Texas attacking the Accent Police
Yes, I have an accent.
Where are you from?I am asked at least once a week where I am from. My accent is so strong that even the middle-eastern lady at the sandwich shop, and the cashier at my grocery store notice right away and ask me where I'm from. Or maybe that's just because I said "Please" and "Thank you".Either way, I know I speak Canadian. There are some pointed differences, outside of the ubiquitous "Eh?" that punctuates my verbal language and the obvious spelling variations that characterize the written.- I say a purse-lipped, prudish "out" and "about", while my American friends yawn a lazy, slack-jawed "aout" and "abaout".- When I was in grade five, my American friends were in fifth grade.- When I'm sorry, I'm SO-rry. When they're sorry, they're sah-rry.- My Canadian teachers set exams, I write them, they grade them and I hope to get a good mark. American teachers write exams, the students take them and hope to get good grades.- I say "you're welcome". Americans say "uh-huh", "yup", or "sure".- My Mum and my girlfriend MOM get along splendidly.- When get pissed, it often doesn't mean I'm angry.- The last letter of the alphabet is zed.There are lots of other examples -- I won't bore you with an exhaustive list.a secret: I'm terrified of losing my accent
Where are you from?I am asked at least once a week where I am from. My accent is so strong that even the middle-eastern lady at the sandwich shop, and the cashier at my grocery store notice right away and ask me where I'm from. Or maybe that's just because I said "Please" and "Thank you".Either way, I know I speak Canadian. There are some pointed differences, outside of the ubiquitous "Eh?" that punctuates my verbal language and the obvious spelling variations that characterize the written.- I say a purse-lipped, prudish "out" and "about", while my American friends yawn a lazy, slack-jawed "aout" and "abaout".- When I was in grade five, my American friends were in fifth grade.- When I'm sorry, I'm SO-rry. When they're sorry, they're sah-rry.- My Canadian teachers set exams, I write them, they grade them and I hope to get a good mark. American teachers write exams, the students take them and hope to get good grades.- I say "you're welcome". Americans say "uh-huh", "yup", or "sure".- My Mum and my girlfriend MOM get along splendidly.- When get pissed, it often doesn't mean I'm angry.- The last letter of the alphabet is zed.There are lots of other examples -- I won't bore you with an exhaustive list.a secret: I'm terrified of losing my accent
It has been a long weekend.
Well,
I haven't done much writing this weekend so I thought I write something today. This past weekend I watched sports and sat around home watching more sports. I know nothing exciting. Well the weather has been typical Houston hot for summer and I haven't enjoyed the great excitement of the summer days.
On Friday I spent the day t KPFT at the Living Art Studio before heading back home. The show was a total disaster, it was supposed to be a clip show of the best of 3 years but it looked like they chopped off most of the interviews that they aired previously and put them together in one whole show. So that was terrible. I decided afterwards I would come home and relax. I didn't do much relaxing I was back on my feet cleaning up the den and living room.
After I did that I decided that on Friday I should just relax and chill. So thats what I did.
Saturday rolled around and like most Saturdays I tend to get bored staying home,well this Saturday had two sporting events I wanted to see Rice Vrs Tulane and The Belmont. Well after thinking that dad was going with me to BW3s to watch the Tulane game, I thought it would be cool if I meet a friend there to go watch it with us. Well change of plans, the game was on TV. So of course, Dad didn't needed to be there so I told him I would just need a ride to the place to meet my friend. Well my friend didn't show up either but I did meet Peter Mcdonald. Peter is this 50ish old guy with a beach hat who reminds me of southern Woody Allen. Nicest guy in the world and neurotic to the bone but funny as hell. I met him when I was part of the Rally club at Rice. So of course seeing him was exciting enough to watch the game and it sure beat staying at home cooped up staying another boring Saturday at the house. So while watching the game we order food I ordered a chicken wrap and he order wings. He ordered a bucket of beer for us to split. Well, when it came to split the check, I thought I was ordering cheap Oh boy was I wrong . I paid 22 dollars. I felt ripped off. I felt like I blew a load of money which I didn't have on something I really didn't care for the beer but I thought OK we would split it. I enjoyed my diet coke.
Afterwards I was feeling a little depressed that I spent half of my money with Pete, also at the fact that Tulane lost. I felt that I needed to do something that night, so I figured I needed to do something that night. I needed to do something to do something to keep myself off the edge off of blowing off my hard earned money. I can home and watched the Belmont and saw that Afleet Alex won. That was awesome! I was pulling for Giacomo but he placed 4th not bad he was in the lead till the end but blew it.
After the race I wanted to do something fun. I needed to do something that night since dad was working and mom was going out and dad was working.
I called my friends to see if they wanted to do something, so I called Polly to see if she wanted to do something. So she was the only one who was free and we saw each other and hung out at Starbucks and ate at Goode Company.
She paid for it, so that was kind of fun. Polly was a really nice lady and we talked for a while till both of us were tired.
Then Sunday arrived which was fun. I woke up at 10 and I started my day at 12. I saw Amy. I thought that was fun. Amy and I spent the time MFA looking at the Baseball exhibit that was displayed which was a lot of fun. The weather was hot but we enjoyed the exhibit then afterwards we went to Hermann park and walked around hung around there for a few hours then returned home to eat barbeque and ate ribs. After we ate we left to return to Helios to Liz Keith's gone away party. The party itself was terribly boring but I did have a good time with Amy so it was not bad I saw Mariana, but it was terrible at poetry and loud music. The whole thing was just awful. But in the good news, Tulane won yesterday.
So my weekend was pretty full and I enjoyed it and I hope to have fun this week.
Well Thath as been my weekend I hope to accomplish something productive and do something good like finish my book and write a new one.
I haven't done much writing this weekend so I thought I write something today. This past weekend I watched sports and sat around home watching more sports. I know nothing exciting. Well the weather has been typical Houston hot for summer and I haven't enjoyed the great excitement of the summer days.
On Friday I spent the day t KPFT at the Living Art Studio before heading back home. The show was a total disaster, it was supposed to be a clip show of the best of 3 years but it looked like they chopped off most of the interviews that they aired previously and put them together in one whole show. So that was terrible. I decided afterwards I would come home and relax. I didn't do much relaxing I was back on my feet cleaning up the den and living room.
After I did that I decided that on Friday I should just relax and chill. So thats what I did.
Saturday rolled around and like most Saturdays I tend to get bored staying home,well this Saturday had two sporting events I wanted to see Rice Vrs Tulane and The Belmont. Well after thinking that dad was going with me to BW3s to watch the Tulane game, I thought it would be cool if I meet a friend there to go watch it with us. Well change of plans, the game was on TV. So of course, Dad didn't needed to be there so I told him I would just need a ride to the place to meet my friend. Well my friend didn't show up either but I did meet Peter Mcdonald. Peter is this 50ish old guy with a beach hat who reminds me of southern Woody Allen. Nicest guy in the world and neurotic to the bone but funny as hell. I met him when I was part of the Rally club at Rice. So of course seeing him was exciting enough to watch the game and it sure beat staying at home cooped up staying another boring Saturday at the house. So while watching the game we order food I ordered a chicken wrap and he order wings. He ordered a bucket of beer for us to split. Well, when it came to split the check, I thought I was ordering cheap Oh boy was I wrong . I paid 22 dollars. I felt ripped off. I felt like I blew a load of money which I didn't have on something I really didn't care for the beer but I thought OK we would split it. I enjoyed my diet coke.
Afterwards I was feeling a little depressed that I spent half of my money with Pete, also at the fact that Tulane lost. I felt that I needed to do something that night, so I figured I needed to do something that night. I needed to do something to do something to keep myself off the edge off of blowing off my hard earned money. I can home and watched the Belmont and saw that Afleet Alex won. That was awesome! I was pulling for Giacomo but he placed 4th not bad he was in the lead till the end but blew it.
After the race I wanted to do something fun. I needed to do something that night since dad was working and mom was going out and dad was working.
I called my friends to see if they wanted to do something, so I called Polly to see if she wanted to do something. So she was the only one who was free and we saw each other and hung out at Starbucks and ate at Goode Company.
She paid for it, so that was kind of fun. Polly was a really nice lady and we talked for a while till both of us were tired.
Then Sunday arrived which was fun. I woke up at 10 and I started my day at 12. I saw Amy. I thought that was fun. Amy and I spent the time MFA looking at the Baseball exhibit that was displayed which was a lot of fun. The weather was hot but we enjoyed the exhibit then afterwards we went to Hermann park and walked around hung around there for a few hours then returned home to eat barbeque and ate ribs. After we ate we left to return to Helios to Liz Keith's gone away party. The party itself was terribly boring but I did have a good time with Amy so it was not bad I saw Mariana, but it was terrible at poetry and loud music. The whole thing was just awful. But in the good news, Tulane won yesterday.
So my weekend was pretty full and I enjoyed it and I hope to have fun this week.
Well Thath as been my weekend I hope to accomplish something productive and do something good like finish my book and write a new one.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Last Night!
Well last night was an eventful night, I went to Helios after a year of absences I decided to return and boy did the place suck. I felt as if the place was so disappointment. I never felt so sad about returning to place that I so loved and coming back so hurt. All these poets were the same and they had the same boring and pathetic poetry. The poetry was terrible and I felt like I was going to drive my head through a wooden spike. The bartender, was clueless and didn't know how to pour a drink and made charged over priced for a Shiner. It was just a rip off. The only good thing about Helios was that I was able to see Andrew, I missed talking with him but it was like talking with an Alziemers patient talking about the same stories over and over again. The poets were the same as last year, and the new ones who were there were just as bad as the ones as the old farts.
I am glad that Amy came with me cause I know that I would of possibly left after my set and just screamed.
I am glad that Amy came with me cause I know that I would of possibly left after my set and just screamed.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
We will Miss You Mrs Robinson
Well, I am sad a little, Anne Bancroft died yesterday. Anne Bancroft who was Mel Brooks wife and who played in such films as The Graduate and Miracle Worker. She was only 72. Anne Bancroft was one of those actresses that was great in her films. She seemed to have played the roles with feeling and emotions. I know the world will miss Anne.
Today is one of those days I don't feel like going out. My plan is that I am going to stay in. I hate that I can't move without feeling pins and needles. I am planning on either spend the day watching t.v. but first I have to go to the store and then water the plants. Its a long day and this day has taken forever.
I have a terrible tummy ache. The weather outside is not fun. It has made me stuck inside again. I can't wait to leave for a cooler climate, like Canada. I am going to enjoy the nice cool breeze of the St.Lawrence and maybe it will help me get my muscles inshape. I think once I am in Montreal I am going to visit my favorite places and stop by and see if Melissa wants to hang out. I am thinking of also taking the Metro to visit the places like downtown and also the cemetary to see my brother.
Hmm, well I will rest today.
Today is one of those days I don't feel like going out. My plan is that I am going to stay in. I hate that I can't move without feeling pins and needles. I am planning on either spend the day watching t.v. but first I have to go to the store and then water the plants. Its a long day and this day has taken forever.
I have a terrible tummy ache. The weather outside is not fun. It has made me stuck inside again. I can't wait to leave for a cooler climate, like Canada. I am going to enjoy the nice cool breeze of the St.Lawrence and maybe it will help me get my muscles inshape. I think once I am in Montreal I am going to visit my favorite places and stop by and see if Melissa wants to hang out. I am thinking of also taking the Metro to visit the places like downtown and also the cemetary to see my brother.
Hmm, well I will rest today.
The madness of King Phil Spector
The Other trial of the Century. We have had enough of to many trials of this century to be dubbed the trial of the century. We had Robert Blake's murder case, Michael Jackson's molestation case and we are now faced with Phil Spector's murder case. I begin to wonder whats the deal with so many trials. Today I am looking at Phil Spector. And since I have been a big music fan since I was younger I thought I'd explore more of Phil Spector.
Any history of Phil's gunplay is pretty interesting (supposedly, he pulled a gun on the Ramones during the recording of "End of the Century"), but any discussion of evidence, no matter how shocking, pales in comparison with that hair. I mean, c'mon! Just look at it! Wow!Murder charges aside, I've always been a big Phil Spector fan. That whole "Wall of Sound" technique is one of the genius achievements in pop music, in my opinion, and his demanding (to say the least) production values gave pop an operatic boost just when it needed it. Naturally, that would all be taken too far during the "Sgt. Pepper" era, necessitating the brutal stripping-back-down the Ramones gave rock 'n' roll in the mid '70s. But Spector's girl group work still sounds pure and beautiful, and his 1963 album, "A Christmas Gift To You" is one of the finest holiday recordings ever. (I know Beatles fans bitch and moan about the production job he did on "Let It Be," but you know what? Beatles fans are a pain in the ass.)Then again, pop genius aside, Phil has always had the repulation of being a, shall we say, difficult collaborator. Besides the Ramones incident, he's rumored to have fired a gun while in the studio with John Lennon, pointed a gun at Leonard Cohen and made Ronnie Spector's life a living hell for years. And though Carole King and Gerry Goffin wrote the 1963 Crystal's single "He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)," Phil was the one who brought it to life via the Wall of Sound. Great tune, jaw-droppingly apalling lyrics.For more of Phil's trial, keep your eyes glued to E! For more of his music, pick up the "Back to Mono" boxed set that came out in the early '90s. It includes all his hits, plus "A Christmas Gift to You" and, in case you're morbidly curious, "He Hit Me (And It Felt Like a Kiss)."
By the way, wasn't Tom Cruise supposed to be making a biopic of Phil? The story is building up to a big ending, Tom. Time to stop jumping around like a monkey on "Oprah" and get fitted for that Phil Spector wig!
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