HNT & What is the world coming to?

This is how short the 12 year olds are wearing their skirts. Also, it is taking me a lot longer to finish the second scarf. I'm about a foot away from completion. Happy HNT! (And sorry about the dirty mirror, lol)

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If you try not to offend anyone, then by definition you stay as middle-of-the-road as possible.

This blog, while a little bit "out there", is rather milktoast (or is it milquetoast?)

(Sure there have been exceptions.)

And I've realized too, that to sell products to the largest population segment, your advertising must tend to the middle.

And since news has become a business, we see what the "the widest audience" would be interested in.

It's like everything in our culture and society thrives on banality and mediocrity. (Doesn't every respectable town have a Walmart, Mickey D's, Subway, Home Depot and Drug store?)

I maintain that this is why art is so important, because art tends to offend our sensibilities and challenge our prejudices.

I don't know, our culture just feels stagnant to me sometimes or even worse, degenerating. Sigh.

Bikeride - Pics and Video

Click for larger version:

So many churches here, it's easy to get blasé about them.

Montreal color.


Just like the postcard, the Marché Bonsecours.


Red doors catch my eye now.


In bloom down at the Old Port.


Container limbo.


See the birdie?


Tim Burton was here.


Where am I again?


Color in the suburbs.

And now, a little video from the 35 kilometer ride. (I'm having trouble walking this morning.)

Longwinded today

Yesterday happened like Tim Burton was directing. It started off with an early morning call from mother-in-law. She wanted to know where spouse was as he had promised to have breakfast with her. Since spouse was sleeping and I hadn't even had my coffee yet, I thrust the cordless onto the ear of spouse. (It is this kind of gesture that engenders love in a relationship.) Wouldn't you know it but spouse was up, dressed, showered and out the door in 30 minutes.

Off he went to his mother's and shortly after, off I went to my regular Monday morning class with the Japanese ladies. We had tea and chestnuts and Karinto and a delightful lesson together. After that, I walked to father-in-law's house. I saw lots of robins and red-winged blackbirds. The Japanese ladies and he live on the same island. I needed to go to the FIL's house because at 1:30, we were all meeting at a cemetery outside of town to bury the ashes of brother-in-law. Spouse was going with his mom and her boyfriend, while I would go with FIL. Just as FIL and I were leaving his parking space, we heard a scratching crumpling sound and realized that somehow someone had parked their car in our blind spot in the time it took to get in and buckle up. Very strange. It was like the car appeared out of thin air. Out of the other car came a sixtyish man and he and FIL set to filling out the standard accident form. It asks for the usual things: address, location of incident, license number, and insurance policy number. I don't know how it's possible, but that took 35 minutes. So we were running late and would have to skip lunch. We drove straight to the small village of St Joseph du Lac, an hour outside of Montreal.

The small church with cemetery as back yard was perched on a hill overlooking a broad plain. The steeple shone with it's steel colored roof gleaming in the strong June sun. The air appeared as fluid, filled with dandelion fuzz carried on the breezes. I imagined a scene in the Big Chill and then the soundtrack was playing in my head. Spouse and MIL and her boyfriend were already waiting for us. After the bizarre church lady finished her hand written receipt, we proceeded up the hill to the family plot dating from the 1800's (and was paid to be maintained "in perpetuity".) We were four stoic men and a mother. We stiffly consoled her as she covered the urn with dirt, sobbing, angry. This is the stuff of life.

Spouse and I got a lift home from FIL and then spouse made us BLT's as we were then starving. FIL remarked how tranquil our little back yard and neighborhood is. He and spouse shared a couple of beers, a long time father son tradition, and then FIL left. Then the neighbor poked her head over the fence and told us what we had missed a few hours before. Apparently, while she was doing dishes, someone in the parkway (we don't have an alley, we have a little walking path that connects to the park) in back was watching her and masturbating. The neighbor upstairs saw him and called her. She turned to see him and even heard the "schlplth, schlplth" sound of him jacking off. *It was very strange to hear the neighborlady explain this sound! They called the police, but he had absconded before they arrived. Tranquil neighborhood indeed.

And then, then as if the day couldn't get any more bizarre, we turn to the other neighbor's house because a light catches our eye and there is a mattress in flames leaning up against the house. Fire! Spouse called 911 and I ran to the corner store to ask for a fire extiguisher. The crackhead welfare family lives upstairs from the fire and they were screaming while the other neighbors were telling them to get out and run for their lives. One of them came into the store just after me and started screaming at the clerk to call 911. I screamed to shut up, it's already done and where's the fire extinguisher already. Then we saw fire coming into the store from the back corner. Shit! Where are the firemen?! Time suddenly slowed to a crawl, but in reality, the firemen were there in three minutes. Crackhead boy grabbed the fire extinguisher from me and ran outside to the back. Fine I thought, it's probably your goddamned cigarette that you threw off the roof that started it asshole.

I went back home, heart palpitating, adrenaline flowing and watched the fireman theater as they put out the fire and made sure it was completely out. After that there was more drama as the crackhead family and the people below them argued. Finally, I saw crackhead boy spit right in the lady's face. I couldn't believe it. The really sad thing is that two toddlers live there.

And that was it. We made pea soup and watched a little tv.

I'm hoping today is a little less "exciting".

The skirt crapper

I haven't laughed like I did this weekend in a very long time. Not only that, but I was all alone when the laughing occurred. And the source of my amusement is something that will be available for months to come, all I need to do is think about the line.

What line? I'm glad you asked. The line is, "I had crapped on my skirt!" which can be read over on Jane's blog.

Poor Jane! And while on a date too! Oh how I was doubled over with such guffawing, my body quaking but no noise coming out. Drop after drop streamed down my face and dripped onto my robe (first) and shirt (later when I went back and read it again.)

I really don't have a scat fetish, I just never lost my adolescent humorous fascination with it.

After reading Jane's poop stories, I tried to remember some of my own. Doesn't everyone have an embarassing poop story? ( They must, if they say no, they're lying.)

I can certainly remember a couple "crap in my pants" stories, mostly from early childhood of course. As an adult, crapping my pants was more the result of fart mistakes (you know, the one you thought was air.) Once, while standing in the kitchen in my robe, spouse came up beside me and I "farted", and a smart stream of liquipoo jettison straight at the floor creating quite a splat. Spouse, without skipping a beat said, "You're cleaning that up. And you're disgusting."

I have more, but one poo story at a time (I'm sure you'll agree) is sufficient.

Feeling old

I remember a time before VCRs. The first one I ever saw was in junior high school. I think it was called a Betamax and it was roughly the size of a coffin. It was the most beautiful technological thing I had ever seen. No film! No light bulb! So many mechanical gear sounds. I think we all caressed it as we made our way into the classroom.

CDs appeared some time after VCRs. I had an eight track player, a turntable, and a cassette player in my car (when I got one) and later a portable cassette player (walkman). I still have my first walkman and it still works. My lunch box is smaller, however. I resisted the CD. I had already poured so much money into buying artists' recordings, I resented having to do it again. Now, of course, the CD is going to become obsolete what with MP3/PDA technology. At least you can rip your library.

Gourmet coffee was the biggest ripoff I remember thinking. Unless you were going to sit down and enjoy the ambiance, it was such a racket. The donut shop sold coffee for half the price! Still, status won the battle, and I too enjoy over $2 coffee regularly. But when I go back home, I stop in the old donut shop where they are still pouring a 95 cent cup of joe that rights me like nothing else.

AIDS appeared when I was a senior in high school. I was duly frightened and slightly guilty and I felt robbed because the funloving times (of which I had not yet partaken) were over. Or at least the carefree, funloving ones were. And I was just getting ready to fly, too. Funny how life is. The timing probably saved my life.

Couple of questions

Are you getting excited about Bush's big dog and pony show planned for Monday? How he's going to "push" for the gay marriage ban constitutional amendment? It's so transparent, it's ridiculous, wouldn't you agree? Gee, isn't there a congressional election looming? Didn't we try this tactic before? Is it possible to compose an entire post soley of questions?

Have you seen that even the "base" the GOP is trying to mobilize is skeptical? Can you believe that they are pouting because Bush hasn't done enough on the issue and don't want to just play his puppet again? Doesn't this seem like a (tried and true) desperate attempt to keep the GOP in power? Isn't it telling that adding an amendment to the constitution is extremely arduous and must eventually be ratified by 3/4 of states? Everybody realizes it's a ploy this time around, don't they? Are you tired of the format now?

Snippetry

* I once had a pet rooster that I was scared to death of. His name was Red.

* Can you honestly say that you are 100% happy and fulfilled? Is this even a valid question?

* Gummy cock feet.

* According to that book I just read, 72 species on the planet perish every minute. Much of this is due to rain forest destruction.

* Video Snippets I fantasized about making this week with the cellphone:

-Spouse comes home drunk

-My hemmerhoid: An in-depth look

-Dog bodily functions - this week, grass eating followed by barfing

- Talking to Quebecers: What happened to your teeth?

* Lemon-lime cave

* Can I buy unstained and untorn jeans? I picked up (but did not buy) a pair of $130 Guess jeans and it had both stains and tears. $130!

* Wicked, wicked thunderstorms Wednesday. I was in heaven.

Intelligence fails the evolutionary test

I'm reading this book right now. This guy basically looks at nature and species and makes observations about the world in which we live. Some of the more interesting points he puts forward are:

- Human beings are leading the planet to another big "die off" of species. For example, fully one third of bird species have disappeared due to man's influence on the planet. It takes 10 million years for life to rediversify after a big species die off.

- It is entirely possible that intelligence is an evolutionary trait that always extinguishes itself.

- We live in a world that we have created, and not one that we are evolutionarily adapted for. This is why people have phobias of high places and snakes and not guns and bombs. Over time, we became genetically programmed to fear those things in varying degrees because those are the traits that favored success in the species.

- Homosexuality is evolutionarily helpful in hunter gatherer societies because additional people to care for young helps more young survive. This is true in social animals that have few offspring at a time (ie: monkeys). The groups that didn't have the diversity that included homosexuality fared worse and so their genes did not make it into today's version of the human being.

- Nature probably should have picked a less aggressive and selfish animal to test its intelligence experiment.

He talks a lot about ants and termites too, there are whole sections that read like an Animal Planet episode. I'll be done with it today and take it back to the library so someone else can tickle their mind with it.

Yesterday a client called me

I am so lame with the cellphone. Well, that's not entirely accurate. I'm getting pretty good at the video and video editing functions on the phone. I created my own ringtone, which is nice except that no one ever calls me. It's startling when I hear it, "what's that loud music, I love that song, oh wait, that's my cellphone, duh, now how do I answer this thing." And then it's like a test, as I fumble with it in my hands and open it, and accidentally hit the button (god knows which one) that sends a "busy" signal to the caller. The screen cackles helplessly informs me of this as soon as I have a chance to focus on it. Then the phone comes alive again (I remarkably do not shriek and throw the phone in the air)and since I have the screen in focus telling me exactly what to do, I press the button that is indicated to me which answers it and then I put it to my ear. I laugh and explain to the caller that I am new at answering the cellphone, and that I have just failed the test. Again.

The adjective preceeding "cream" is important

"Ow, it's burning."

Serge is standing in the doorway to the office and I'm trying to ignore him, reading as I am, some beloved person's blog.

"What is?"

I ask disinterestedly while I continue reading and only marginally comprehend him when he says,

"My face. I put some cream on it and now it's burning. Look."

He sidles up next to me so that I am forced to look up at his face. It is red and greasy looking.

"What did you put on your face?"

"Cream."

"What kind of cream?"

"Foot cream."

"Honey, why are you putting foot cream on your face?"

"Because my face is dry, and we don't have any hydrating cream so I thought the foot cream would be the same thing."

"Gosh hon, I'm pretty sure when they came up with the title for the cream. they had a reason. Now go wash that off and we'll go buy you some face moisturizer."

And I am charmed as we walk to the drugstore together.

In the past 24 hours

Had this picture taken.


We earned sore asses from a bikeride. It feels like my two buttbones are bruised. Also, if males have perenniums, mine is sore.

I stuck my toes in the St Lawrence River. It wasn't too, too murky. I'll keep you posted if they shrivel up and fall off.

Ate all meals outside and was therefore bitten by mosquitoes, twice.

Made this video. (I need to stop this, you already know I'm gay and corny.)



I stepped in dogshit. It was my own dog's so it wasn't too dreadful.

Made burritos. Burritos, baby.

How the sun gives instant happiness

We're having a marvelous weekend. I think the last seventeen weekends were rainy. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating and it was more like seven. But still, it was getting to be a joke, rain all weekend and then a nice day on Wednesday while everyone is trapped at work. So what happens in Montreal on this first summerlike weekend of the year is that everyone goes outside. It's as though a giant hand is squeezing all the residences and OHMYGOD there are a lot of people in this city! It shocks me every year when I see this, and I think how vibrant it is, how Montreal comes alive again each year.

So we walked to the public market always walking in the alleys, spouse and my special thing we do, until we arrived where it looked like half the town had the same idea. Bought a tomato plant and a few herbs to plant in pots. We went home and went outside to plant the things.

Restless, we went for another very long walk with the dog, we just had to be outside, the sun was so glorious. On our long walk we discovered a cruisy park that we didn't know about. Suddenly we were amongst men in broad daylight "hanging out" in little alcoves in the bushes.

Then, unable to be inside, we went to the rooftop at Sky, one of the clubs in the gay village here. I love it on the roof up there, they have a pool and jacuzzi. There's food and libations and some of the finest specimens in the city. Plus lots of hunky tourists from the states. I know I need a better camera, but here's a video from the roof.



It's sunny, I'm going to rouse spouse soon and then we're off on a bikeride. I'll bring the regular camera this time.

Just because

Something that makes me:

Laugh: Dry, deadpan humor. Like when t said that tubgirl could have used a big hunk of cheese. Oh how I roared.

Cry: The suffering of others, so during movies and the reading of books. I don't cry for "myself" anymore.

Enraged: Insolent kids. But then I remember about the parents, and hate them too.

Lightheaded: The first snow, the first 80 degree day, the first kiss, the dark.

Loving: A kind word or act. The expression of same.

Tired: Thinking about how screwed up the world is, and how I can't do anything about it.

Giddy: Electrical storms.

Revolted: Very little actually. Revulsion often inspires curiosity in me.

Scared: Snakes. Toucans. Wasps. Sharks. Tsunamis. Birdflu. Well, any flu actually.

Guilty: Pathetic made-up memes like this. That thousands of humans perish every day because their basic needs can't be met, and I can't stop it.

Snippets

* Grasping a greasy subway pole is an instant recipe for heeby-jeebies.

* I require 60 minutes in the morning before I am pleasant to speak with.

* Speaking of morning, sometimes just the smell of the coffee compels a movement.

* My memory these days is like an old dog's milky eyes.

* The thing that chapped my hide last year was that as soon as my garden vegetables were ripe, the market was selling them for pennies.

* This is not worksafe. Tubgirl.

* I don't think there is a cheese I don't like. Said another way, I like all cheese.

* I have never used face cream or moisturizer of any kind. I will put on sunscreen, but reluctantly.

* Serge, on the other hand, does. He brought home a new facial product lately, and I took a video snippet of him.


* Note the final look of death he gives me.

Chicken Little or sage?

It is only a matter of time.

Perhaps not in your lifetime, but all logic and reason point to our eventual poisoning of the planet so much so that our numbers will decrease dramatically. Whether it's terrible climate change or a disruption in the balance of oxygen in the atmosphere, we are continually adding to the risk of major disruption.

The hourglass has been turned over, we just don't know how long the hour is.

How much mercury do you have to ingest before it's toxic? Well, that's a bit different for every creature, but at an eventual level, it kills all living things. So it is with the Earth. We have been pumping gases and chemicals into the atmosphere continuously and in increasing quantities since the beginning of the industrial revolution. I am the grown up when I say, "Hey, don't you think we ought to stop shitting in our own bed? I mean, eventually we won't be able to sleep there, right?"

To those who balk at the specter of climate change, and to those who pooh pooh the dangers of slashing the Amazon rainforests and decimating sea life, and especially to those who insist that the world continue burning fossil fuels until the very last drop is extracted from the earth, I say

PULL YOUR HEAD OUT!

Earth calling Torn

During the hell of insomnia that I was experiencing recently, I noted a huge increase in my clairvoyance. I probably shouldn't find this surprising as I know that the more you get away from your "control of reality" the more you can see what's really going on.

This is where some people might wish to roll their eyes or click away and denounce this *baloney*.

If you've stayed, perhaps you are keen to know what I'm talking about. It's about our consciousness and its ability to create the world around us. It is true that the more people can agree on the reality, the easier it is to function within.

But what is really going on?

All I know is that when I'm deprived of my usual energies, such as I was during the two weeks of insomnia, I found it was all I could do to pay attention enough to get through the day, ride the bus, describe grammar, feed myself. And I couldn't give any attention to my emotions, what a luxury emotions are I realized, no I could only try to function and *act* normally. But what kept happening was that I got flashes of scenes and "heard" words before they were spoken. It was like I was ten seconds ahead of everything as it echoed back in time at me.

I'm not shitting you, this is what I experienced. Now I'm open to this kind of thing, so that could have helped, but I promise you I didn't have the energy to make this up. It is a mystery, the nature of such hallucinations, but once again I am reminded that there is much more going on in this world than meets the eye.

My good friend Em recently returned from a journey out "on the hill", a kind of native fasting in the nature ceremony. Two sweats and two days of fasting, including water privation she endured in an environment far from our 21st century reality. She had some interesting things happen, and if we're lucky she'll share some of them with us...(It looks like she's started)

Even though I hated it, I am humbled by my insomnia experience, I want to be closer to the mystery and yet the only way to get there is to suffer in some way, get out of your comfort zone, challenge the senses you don't even believe you have.

Okay then, I'll be back on earth tomorrow.

I probably shouldn't be so bitter

I got that Social Security statement this year from the states that you get every few years. It's an update of how much you've paid into the system and how much you can expect to get upon retirement. Depending on when I choose to "receive benefits", I can expect from $550 to $970 per month. And this is assuming I never work in the states again. That seemed like a lot until I saw that until the year 2000, I had already contributed fifty thousand dollars to the system. And I've still got 25-30 years before it's benefit time. They would have to be very bad investors AND I would have to live longer than anyone ever in my family for them to lose money on this deal.

Oh, and then right there in bold print, they say this:

*Your estimated benefits are based on current law. Congress has made changes to the law in the past and can do so at any time. The law governing benefit amounts may change because, by 2041 (I'll be dead 76) the payroll taxes collected will be enough to pay only about 74 percent of scheduled benefits.

Maybe if they hadn't robbed the gobs of money in the SS fund and truly invested it and treated it like an asset to grow, we wouldn't be "predicting" the shortfall. Now I can't help wondering what if the Iraq war trillions had been used to shore up SS ? I would certainly have felt better about taking care of old Americans who had worked and paid into a system all their lives than seizing control of an oil rich country and slaughtering thousands of its citizens.

But then again, maybe I'm over simplifying things.

Kindling or live plant?

I don't know if you remember, but 16 days ago we bought a hydrangea to plant in the back yard. Now I really shouldn't be calling it a hydrangea because, thus far, it is only a brown stick. Now you may be asking:

Why did we buy a $60 brown stick?

This question is especially salient considering every other offering at the nursery had at least begun to show blossoms or leaves. No, we had to zero in on the one thing that was still dormant. Great idea Charlie Brown!

Still, at that price and with the good reputation of Home Depot, we bought it, Serge feeling good we didn't cheap out and get the 30 dollar fruit tree (I was gunning for the plum tree too) and me feeling good despite the expense, because I've always had a thing for hydrangeas.

So, that's how we bought a $60 brown stick.

And sixteen days later, okay sixteen rainy days later, it still has shown no signs of stirring.

Are we fucked? Have we been royally had?

Here's me showing the hydran, er, brown stick. The sun (during it's five minute appearance yesterday) was in my face, hence the squinting.

346 posts in a year

Warning: sappy, sentimental tripe ahead

This calls for Dairy Queen.

One year ago today was my very first blog post. When I started, I set out to write, because writers write, and also because my Uncle (a published author I'll have you know) said that the best piece of advice he had was from his first editor; "Write three pages every day, it doesn't have to be good, it just has to be written."

Now, I don't write three pages, surely if I did, I would have zero readers or a book deal. (I can dream, can't I?) Still, I have found the daily regimen of writing has produced some wonderful side effects. The first is how much more I'm "into" my life. Not in a self-aggrandizing, narcissistic way, but in that I feel like I'm a much more keen (keener just sounds wrong) observer. There's always something interesting happening if only you pay attention.

And what about the other denizens of the blogosphere that I have made connections with? I think that has been the most unexpected part of it, that I have let myself be drawn into so many different daily lives, and I find myself wondering about my blog friends, praying for them when they're down and cheering for them when they're up. And of course many of those weigh in on my life too. Like a big fan club collective, this blog phenomenon is.

Here's the nut of it: I am one point of awareness, filling one space on the planet. I can share my unique perspective from my unique place and take in the other points of awareness' unique perspective, and in doing so, we all discover that we are far more similar than different. And then we celebrate in the comments section.

So as Sticky Crows heads into its second year, I invite you to stick around for the miraculous ride that is life. It's gonna be fun, I just know it.

Julia's bread

It was 1995, and I was working at a hot LA restaurant. It's closed now, as so many "super hot" restaurants eventually do. I was the opening waiter and so I had to prep the dining room before the others arrived. I didn't mind, this meant I was first off and I preferred that. (tips were pooled anyway) This particular restaurant also had one of the first "artisinal" bakeries, a concept that has since become ubiquitous. One day, I was daydreaming and polishing wine glasses when I heard someone clear their throat behind me on the other side of the room. You know, the kind of throat clearing that really means, "Hey, butthead!" And so I turned to see a hooded female figure with sunglasses and grey sweatpants standing at the bakery counter. There was no one at the counter. My first flash of irritation. I looked to the kitchen to catch someone's eye. Nobody. Hot angry flashes. Now, it wasn't my responsibilty to man the bakery and yet I was the only visible human in the place, and so I had no choice. Happy, I was not. I let out a very big sigh and put down my glass and cloth brusquely. I walked around the counter and behind the bar to the little bakery counter and looked at the girl and said, "What can I get you." Icy would work for my tone of voice. "I'd like the cranberry oatmeal bread. And could you slice it for me too?" said Julia Roberts from behind the sunglasses.

Gulp.

And I set right to work getting the bread, oh my god, it's Julia Roberts, I have to tell someone, but who? I looked around and still saw none of my colleagues. I took the loaf to the back to put it through the bread cutting machine and there was nobody around. (Later, I would discover that everyone was out looking at the chef's new car which he had just purchased.) Nobody at all and I brought back Julia's bread and she paid, smiled and said thank you. My heart was all aflutter. She really is nice! Nobody is going to believe me.

As soon as she left, I ran in the back to tell everyone the news. People were reluctant to believe me. But true, true it was.

(Thanks Peter for the inspiration today.)