Another victory for science

Yellow

Volunteered

Tonight I got volunteered for another task on top of a previous task I had been volunteered for the last time CTAC met (name changed to prevent random search hits). These are not brutally difficult tasks or anything, and I don't mind doing them. I guess I just feel like they are a little thankless. Or at least that I won't be getting any thanks for them. Or maybe that I will be thanked but that it will be token. Or something. Maybe I just don't like other humans. Hmmm.

Also, my blog appears all screwed up on my home computer.

Also, I'm rapidly approaching my birthday and it's depressing me up the wazoo.

Walk Away From The Light

So I had this reading the other day. A play I had written largely so I'd have something to be read at the reading. I wasn't sure how I felt about it and so I didn't really invite too many people, which was for the best because it wasn't exactly an awe inspiring night of new works. My play seemed to go on and on, and when the hostess cut it off I thought she was doing it for time, but she had just gotten her cue wrong.

The whole play stemmed from a discussion I had with a couple friends about how it was "easy" for people like David Eggers to write autobiographical work because they've had dramatic things happen to them. I asserted that most everyone had a life that could be dramatized. I believe I have been disproven quite soundly.

I've spent a lot of time this fall on play writing in one way or another. I think its time to be done with it.

Does it seem odd to anyone else that even though I have a draft of a novel done, that I could and should be editing like mad and trying to get published, still I'm obsessed with a style of writing that I'm only thinly adequate at. Why can't I be happy with what I've got instead of pushing for something else?

Just a quiet Friday ponder.

A Head of the Curve

This much anticipated blog entry features a photograph! Unfortunately, it is not a picture of me in my Halloween Costume. Nor is it of me getting my halloween costume hair-cut. In fact, it isn't even a photo of me. And the observant among you will have detected that it is a Christmas photo (note the After Eight mints and garland).

Life is full of small disappointments. For example, I now have to avoid throwing up until I'm 50 to beat my previous record. Never, ever, eat the "Chicken Parmigan" sandwhich at Boston Pizza. Not only is it dissapointing - but you will risk experiencing the same projecting-from-multiple-orifice adventure that made my weekend so special. I guess I should have known better than to order a product with a mis-spelling in the name. Sigh.

If you're really, really good, I'll post a picture of my new do next time.

Yes, Meganude, I'm talking to you.

News Item

I did eat turkey and loaf about over the weekend, but it's worth noting that I also finished the first draft of my novel. I know of a number of sections that need some work, but I now have a complete 300-odd page manuscript that runs continuously from start to finish like a real book.

Woot.

Le Sigh

This blog entry commemorates a slightly more interesting one that should have been posted if the internet wasn't such a pissy technology.

Supposedly Bright Man Makes Bad Decision (Again)

I had been doing fairly well. My stupidity hadn't cost me too much this year, compared to some previous years (like the classic never-got-around-to-registering-my-liscence-plate year). But wait, I manage to screw my own theatre company out of three or four hundred dollars by not knowing my budget and just saying yes when what I clearly should have said was "how much, again?" followed closely by "maybe some other time, thank-you". Shit. Well, of course I'm not actually going to screw the company out of the money - we don't *have* any money for one - but it means another long run of raising funds to pay off dumb-assedness rather than earning allowance for things I like.

It wouldn't be so distressing if people didn't keep telling me I'm smarter than this.

I'm a university certified dumb-ass.

Summer Ends

What did I accomplish this summer?

I wrote the last page of my book (now if only I could write the remaining middle pages...)
I went on vacation.
I played soccer.

What did I want to accomplish this summer?

I wanted to rekindle some wobbly friendships - didn't find time somehow.
I wanted to get a lot of work done on my book - didn't find time somehow.
I wanted to lose a chunk of weight - did that, but then I found it again.

But hey, fall is coming - and I have all kinds of activities planned. An art class, a playwriting conference, a gym membership. (Now I just have to find time to write my book and get my social situation sorted out... hmm... do I see a trend here?)

Next year, Greece! Publication of something! New projects! Just gotta get through to Christmas.

(When is too soon to start planning new year's resolutions?)

End of an Era

It is official.

I have seen a movie that is worse than Barb Wire.

Mulva: Zombie Ass Kicker is the worst movie ever made, period. Not one funny or scary moment in this supposed cult horror comedy flick. Well, one scary moment - when I realized that the whole movie was going to be like that. Worst actors, worst fake accents, worst production values. Seriously, this movie looks like a high school project with sat, fat fourtysomethings in it. The girl on the cover of the box wasn't even in the film (lucky her). Meanwhile, the actors in the film were so bad that there wasn't a single instance of a conversation in a shot. If one person spoke and then another person spoke, they had to cut to a different camera shot of the second person speaking so they could (presumably) shout the actors lines at them in the space between.

And I like bad movies. The only good thing about watching it was that I can now honestly say that Barb Wire isn't the worst movie I've ever seen. That's got to be a useful conversation piece at some point.

Sigh.

The artist's life

“And it’s not only beauty and beautiful things. In a flicker of sunlight on a blank wall, or a reach of muddy pavement, or smoke from an engine at night, there’s a sudden significance and importance and inspiration that makes the breath stop with a gulp of certainty and happiness. It’s not that the wall or the smoke seem important for anything or suddenly reveal any general statement, or are suddenly seen to be good or beautiful in themselves – only that for you they’re perfect and unique. It’s like being in love with a person… I suppose my occupation is being in love with the universe.” - Rupert Brooke

What's your deal?

Dinner with the sister

Tonight we had my sister over for dinner - a rare occasion since she lives in Vancouver. We barbecued on a plank and talked about everything from how great (?) the show sex in the city was to our satisfaction with our lives and the meaning of life. It was good to have a philosophical conversation for a change, and it was good to have a friendly outsider to talk to. One of my conclusions was that I don't have such conversations with my regular friend-set because it risks too many ripples in the water - we're happier just being happy. It was also good to recognize that my sister, while staying on the proper side of the Christian/non-Christian fence from my parents point of view, is practically as radical as I am on a wide array of moral and social issues. I may have railed now and again, but maybe I like the distance that my "black sheep" status grants me. I suspect I'd rather not have regular spiritual chats with my parents and extended family - a mine field my sister more frequently walks because they assume she's on their side.

Cash Money in the Desert of the Soul

Didn't have much to do at work today. But crazybirdlady had three work rumours for me to chew on. Of course, I'm never sure which to believe because about half turn out to be misunderstandings or get changed before they come about, but she was right about the company covering our premiums for benefits, it just took longer to come about than anticipated. Anyway, I wait with interest to see what happens.

At lunch I mailed the revised script for "Romeo and Hamlet" to another contest. I guess after getting a terse rejection letter from a pro company in Toronto its kind of in the realm of "getting back on the horse". When I was younger I decided at one point to train myself on rejection. I was going to mail out a bunch of writing, ask girls out, try out for stuff. Well, I ended up getting a really bit part in a play, and the first girl I was going to ask out was waffling and I got scared she'd say yes, and I was more lazy than dejected about the writing stuff I guess... anyway it never really went anywhere. I was always doing things like that - setting out on some crazy extreme thing like 'How long can I go without speaking?' except they were always impractical in some way or I chickened out or something. Never went anywhere I guess. But I still cling to my saying of those days (poached from Oliver Stone's Wild Palms) "Everything Must Go".

Vacation Photos

What is the deal with vacation photos? I mean, okay, occasionally there's a really nice photo or a funny moment captured, but witness exhibit A:

What compelled me to take this photo? At the time I thought there was something great about that mountain, but look at it. It's a mountain. And mostly this is a picture of our dashboard. And while it does record that brief time where we had successfully glued the car started antenna into place before it fell off again (sheesh) but how long will the long string of ones and zeros that comprise this picture in my hard drive survive and too what end?



This one may have a bird in it.

Or perhaps that bridge held some interest.

Or that chemical plant.

Wow seascapes are great.


You know, I took photography in junior high school. I'm supposed to be competent. And the picture is displayed on the screen before you take it.

This blog sucks

My blog sucks.

There are two kinds of good blogs: the kind that rarely get updated, but make up for it by being so desperately funny or moving or real, and the kind that are occassionally funny or touching, but get updated all the time so you're at least following along with the saga of their life.

I'd be happy to have the second kind of blog. I'm no Dave Eggers of blogs. But I'm apparently incapable of caring enough to post more than once in a blue moon, with my vague and uninteresting posts, which begs the question why anyone short of a spogger would bother to read it.

Last night my friends and I were discussing the role of blog as confessional. I think people *like* the fact that people they know might find their blog and read the falsely anonymous diary. They get to let those people in on what they think of as "the real me" while imposing a kind of code of silence about it because those people can't admit to having read it without a kind of "snooping" judgement being placed on them.

My blog is particularly poor because the only people that read it are really close to me - so what's the point of confessing to them?

Another point against it is the ludicrous high-concept format that doesn't really work.

Does the universe need this:

Last night my sister was in town and we went to the Chapters (all hail the temple of texts) and I bought this cheesy Shakespeare based tarot set from the bargain bin.

It's so pathetic. I mean, at least a classic deck has some reasonably old tradition behind it to give it a (false?) sense of the wisdom of the ages. This is obvious cash-candy.

So last night after Lady Rose went to sleep I did a reading for myself and found it oddly touching and personal - accurate, encouraging, and challenging in all the ways great mysteries can be. But this morning I have this worry: if I am inspired by this to make a change and it works and my life gets better, am I going to be able to live with the fact that it was caused by a Shakespeare tarot deck?

Everyone get ready to join in on the chorus: He's a lamey... whoa whoa whoa, he's a lamey. Talkin' about my little lamey... and that lamey is lame!

Apparently I'm a little conflicted. (Which the deck predicted! Bah!)

Seriously. Is the world better? Am I better? Would I be typing this if an ulcer attack brought on by poor life choices hadn't awakened me prematurely?

Feh.

Oh, I almost forgot to post an inexplicable image.

Huh. Didn't seem to work. Oh well.

Meta-blogging

Yesterday I wrote this for my blog, but (horrors!) the internet was down at work. How the fuck am I supposed to waste time while I wait for work with no internet?!!! Anyhoo, here's what I wrote:

Over the past few days work has been a total bore – my many and varied projects continue to be tied up in various waiting games for feedback/instruction from such powers-that-be as the city, my bosses, and the dreaded clients-who-believe-I-am-a-time-traveller-and-thus-don’t-need-to-send-me-feedback-until-the-exact-moment-they-want-a-response. Hours of sitting with nothing to do, nothing “billable” anyway, and I am stripped of my connection to what I am doing here. I am a cog in an alien machine whose complexity is designed to cloak its true purpose.

Crazybirdlady is sick today – because she too has lost her purpose? – so I am alone with my thoughts and my waiting and my obsessive reading of other people’s blogs. My current favourite is “Bad News Hughes” – a disturbing freak from Florida that I would almost certainly hate if I met in person, but is a damned funny writer at that.

An email arrives – I have some work I can do, but a week of lazy has a kind of terrible momentum to it. It takes real effort to get going again, my brain feels like cornstarch in water – totally soquid.

By the way, I am totally floored by the current situation in Lebanon. Suppose some nuts in Niagra kidnapped some U.S. border guards and the Canadian government couldn’t get them back that day. Would it then be justified for the U.S. to bomb Toronto? Of course not – that would obviously be psychotic. So when Israel bombs the Beruit airport because terrorists in a different part of the country have kidnapped their soldiers what do we do? Call it reasonable and try to evacuate our citizens from the Israeli swath of destruction. 300 civilians dead because terrorists kidnapped 2 soldiers. Yeah, that’s totally justified. Of course the U.S. can’t say anything – they bombed the shit out of Afghanistan when some terrorists that lived in the backwoods of that country messed with them. But us Canadians are supposed to be better than that. Stephen Harper should pull his head out of his ass, and do something useful instead of his lame “I’m going to Cyprus to help the evacuation” publicity stunt. For shame “Steve”, for shame.

******

Anyway, that's the stuff I wrote yesterday. I still am stuck for work. Crazybigboss is still crazy. But at least I've got a bunch of planning done for my upcoming vacation.

Items of small note

Yesterday I played soccer. Went up for a header on a high ball in our own 18 yard box and some forward from the other team nailed me while I was in mid-air creating a dramatic 360 degree airborn wipeout which earned me a free kick and a "way to play tough" from my team-mates. Would have been "tough"er if I hadn't run out of steam in the second half and mostly trotted futilely around the mid-field.

Tomorrow eve (at the Auburn - froofy-actor-bar-a-go-go) a short play I wrote will be read as part of a bunch of readings from a playwriting workshop I'm in. Professional actors - curious to see if they make more of it than I imagine my regular community types could. I'm a little dubious - how deep can you get in five minutes? - but I do like Trevor Ruger and Shari Watling (name drop!) so I am excited to see them in action on the various pieces.

Humans are so weird

Don't waste too much time reading the actual post listed below, just get the gist of what they did and then check out the epic flamewar it started in the comment section.

http://toiletpaperonline.typepad.com/
the_blog/2005/11/walmart_dance_p.html

Just when I think the aliens I work with are too weird to be believed, some humans step up to remind me that we're pretty screwed up too.

Work versus "the work"

I'm writing a book. It's funny - I'm almost 90,000 words into the thing and it still feels like hubris to say so. Like I should hedge my bets - "I'm trying to write a book" - in case I still somehow give up on the thing. But it feels like its got momentum now.

Anyhoo, things have gotten really busy at work. The crazy big boss is throwing tasks around like grenades while everyone else scrambles to keep their other projects on track despite the extra work. I'm going to have to work overtime just to get it done which cuts into the non-work time of my life.

And I resent that. I'm still working on my book anyway - but I'm tired a lot of the time, and irritated about the politics and conflicts of the office, and I worry that it will steal the sharpness out of my writing.

In some ways I wish I could quit and just do what I love. But I like having a home. A lot. And food is good too. And all the things that money provides. Maybe what I resent most of all is a world that makes these things incompatible.

Someday, I say. Someday.

How long can a myth keep you going?

Long enough to finish a book, anyway.

Chastized

So I've been chastized (again) for not updating my blog. Okay - here goes.

Work is so weird lately - crazybirdlady went on vacation leaving behind a trail of half finished yet vaguely urgent projects and a half finished fight with the robotfromanotherplanet. So I had to scramble to keep the peace and the pieces and managed to be variously busy and bored out of my skull until she returned. The unspoken politics continue, but at least I've been busy with my own crap.

Last weekend was a wedding (the good twin) which was both less inappropriate than expected given the groom and his brothers sense of humour, and less stuffy than expected given the extended families. I, for one, couldn't give a flying crap how things are done in Scotland, but apparently this wedding had to be the last bastion of Scotsdom in western canada. I did end up acting as an usher at the last moment which was no big deal. Having been involved in a healthy number of weddings so far I know how they're supposed to work. I'm mostly just glad that the dramatics are over. Plus it was fun being drunk and trying to hail a cab downtown, on the same night that the flames won a game. (Their last, as it turned out.)

I feel vaguely ill and intend to cash that into a partial day off tomorrow.

I'm a little whiney these days (what else is new) because none of the people I emailed the latest chapter of my novel to sent me comments back. Except for my most loyal friend, and he only sent a note indicating he had read it. This is not turning out to be a very effective support system. I start feeling angry every time I open my email. But then, what the fuck am I being such a baby about? It's not like I ever email any of them on a regular basis.

I don't even blog on a regular basis.

Ah well. Maybe I'll get some more spog with this post.

Omigodomigodomigod

Okay. Here it is. This is the very first time since I graduated (the first time) with a Pure Math degree that I have

a) solved an integral
b) did calculus and statistics at the same time
c) did it all for an actual work-related purpose

I'm certain the earth will open up to swallow me at any moment now.

It's been fun,

RR+S

Another Day, Another Dollar

The cosmic undertow's a bitch these days

So I get back from my great aunt's funeral having missed two days of work and find... nothing. The lack of work is starting to eat at my brain. Witness:

I'm not sure about you but I feel out of time. Like I'm waiting for the world to catch up with me. Perhaps my usual batch of fate-flotsam is currently rattling around Kelowna - confused that it can't find me at the White Spot.

More likely: the usual problem projects are holding back, rallying with each other for a tsunami of spreadsheet hell that crashes my desktop right before the long weekend.

(I just held the shift key so long the filter keys menu popped up. My brain is moving at... actually it may not be moving at all. Woo hoo, finally the fingers are free to say whatever the hell they feel like with no editing - we think the microsoft enabled keyboard is a pain in the ass because it has a different shaped delete key - and we just love deleting things - wish we could delete the whiney drivel above, but it might make the brain take charage aagain = ack! what? orf!!!)

My fingers are weird.

Digit

Don't ask me, I just work here.

Why are Kings always crazy?

I had to meet with the head of my division today. Been working on a special project for him. Having spent several weeks coordinating traffic counts and several long days doing data entry, our meeting reveals that we have completely different versions of what to analyze for the data - mine based on what all existing buildings in Calgary's downtown are doing, his based on... well... I hope somebody knows what his idea is based on because it sure as hell isn't me or anyone else living on this planet.

Why do the aliens get all the top positions? Why don't they get better fitting human suits?

Long story long, I have to do a bunch of refiguring (with the help of one of the junior grade aliens) to do all the data entry again with slightly different categories. By Monday.

No that's fine CrazyBossBeing, I didn't have plans for the future.

The things we miss...

Today I dropped off presentation boards for an open house at Mount Royal College.

I found myself feeling a bit alien with my dolly load of collapsable easils (easels?) among all the bright young things wandering the halls. I miss being a student. I miss the classes and homework, I miss living life in neat little four month blocks.

I think it's a little sad to miss university - it was supposed to be preparing me for something more, something beyond itself - it claimed to be foreward looking. But I suppose nobody studying abstact math, philosophy, or creative writing can really be thought of as looking ahead.

I think it's a lot sad to miss university. We're just as free now as we ever were. And if we went back to school now we'd be that sad mature student in the corner - the one nobody really wants to talk to. Hey! I guess it wouldn't be that different!

Enemies?

Twitch.... twich....

Do I even have to explain my thoughts?

I'm buying a snorkel.

A Tale of Two Theatre Companies

Like those weird muppet mystics in "The Dark Crystal", what now exists as two opposing theatre companies began as one unified entity.

[Use of literary reference: 1 point. Use of nerdy literary reference: -2 points. Current score: -1]

I was, at the time, a grad student at the University of Calgary on his second generation of friends. This batch had formed the Mind the Walrus Theatre Group out of the co-authors and some participants in a high school production, and had accumulated other like-minded individuals along the way. It's worth noting that "like-minded" in this context meant "interested in doing theatre, but not interested/good enough to be drama majors". The king of this world was Angry Dan, and I had been his friend for years - starting out as friends with his older brother in high school and after the brother moved to Vancouver, staying on with AD and his flock of friends.

And I wanted to be involved in their theatre company. I had played a bit part in a high school production of the Tempest, was in the process of rejecting my scientific past for airy-fairy philosophy and arts, and for this group it was the "in" thing. I wanted to be "in".

[Needless focus on personal issues: -2 points. Current score: -3]

My involvement in MTW productions: I played "the Trekkie" in the horror spoof "I Know What Urban Legend You Screamed Last Halloween" where I had one line and was then slain by the serial killers - directed by the girl who would go on to become Lady Rose. And I wrote some sketches for and performed bit parts in a sketch comedy revue done one night on campus. But I was generally kept to the outside by what my then post-teenaged-but-still-socially-awkward consciousness percieved as an unspoken conspiracy by the powers-that-were in MTW, most specifically my connection to the group: Angry Dan, to keep me from being "in".

[Cast as trekkie because he *owned* a trekkie outfit: -4 points. Teen angst from a grad student: -2 points. Current score: -9 points]

So I was mostly on the outside for the fights that dominated MTW politics. Casting fights. Directing fights. Who's-fault-was-the-shitty-publicity fights. And the worst - the how-come-Angry-Dan-gets-to-make-all-the-decisions-by-throwing-a-fit-if-anyone-disagrees fights. But behind the scenes I guess I was involved because the future Lady Rose left her then boyfriend (another MTW regular) for me as the result of a cast party, and I made an unpopular transition from the world of Angry Dan's friends to Lady Rose's circle of influence.

[Making drunken cast-party antics work (three years married and counting): +4 points. Current score: -5 points]

And despite a reasonably successful production at the Edmonton Fringe, the fights were becoming intolerable. This was, after all, supposed to be for fun. There were no drama majors here. So there was a council - an intervention? - a coup? - and Lady Rose, Bubbles the Terrifying, the Reverend Kevin Stefan, and SqueekyThleen (the captain's mate, now ex) hammered out an accord with Angry Dan and his band of yes-men: the show that was being rehearsed would go on, and that would be the end of it - moneys earned donated to the Pumphouse and hands dusted of the whole sorry affair. Four months later, two new theatre companies were forming and the feud was now a rivalry.

This time, I was in. This time my personal connection to the inner sanctum would work for me. Heck I was part of the inner sanctum. Not officially on the original exec, but at the founding meetings, writing scripts for consideration, applying my years of tech experience (working at a church, but still...) Satisfying.

[A little too pleased with himself: -1 point.]

In my corner: Hidden Insanity Theatre. (Name created by Kevin's wacky theatre company name-generation spreadsheet.)

In the other corner: Scorpio Theatre. (Name stolen from Simpson's episode)

In my corner: New works by a variety of authors (Rostock Rose included), interesting published scripts, sketch comedies, improv shows on campus.

In the other corner: New works by Angry Dan, old works by Angry Dan - as if remounted they would be better, freed of the unholy influences of Lady Rose and her ilk. Yes, it really was the Angry Dan show starring Angry Dan.

Time passes...

This last weekend marked the start of a "hiatus" for Hidden Insanity. (A crappy one since we're already planning a few events for next year.) Seemed like a good time to look back and see what we've accomplished.

Financially the company is strong - we borrowed money from ourselves to start things off - paid it all back - mounted an Alberta Fringe tour and have coasted along on the proceeds ever since. We've mastered the "pretty much breaking even" school of minimizing expenses and had a few big hits (like Romeo and Hamlet last year) that pump moneys back into the well.

We've grown in terms of the quality and maturity of our shows - broadened our range to include different kinds of comedy and dramatic theatre. Developed new works, found just the right scripts to use, and learned how to cast a stable show, market a show reasonably effectively in the arts-desert that is Calgary, and manage the many technical issues involved in producing live theatre. We even have a style: sharp, darkly comedic, but approachable by and entertaining for a general audience. Not mallety in message, not juevenille in depth.

We've had our problems - a string of producers being the most noticable, and the odd unfortunate choice in casting or choice of director. There is a show-that-shall-not-be-named in our past, a light-design I did on the fly on tech day when our ill-trained light designer walked the night before load-in, and a "no list" of people we just have learned better than to work with.

Major milestones - Successful tour with sketch comedy show to Athabasca, Edmonton, and Calgary fringes got mixed reviews (many shows do not even get mixed reviews) and decent attendance. General buzz about doing good work - people want to be involved in Hidden Insanity shows. Romeo and Hamlet, co-written by Kevin Stefan and myself won Outstanding Original Script at last years Calgary Amateur Theatre awards. (Yes, the awards are kind-of a political joke, but there were a couple other legitimate contenders and it was a kick-ass show.)

[Balanced review of history: +2 points. Tooting own horn: -1 point.]

And just this last weekend Lady Rose won Best Director for "Prisoner's Dilemma" at the Calgary Regional One-Act Festival.

At the same festival, Scorpio produced Angry Dan's "Jesus versus Superman" which was, to be blunt, pretty lame. It's rare for the two companies to be in such direct competition, and the occasion highlighted the great differences between the companies.

Scorpio has never stopped producing Angry Dan's plays. And Angry Dan has never stopped writing jeuvenille scripts. Just out of highschool these were witty, pop-culture laced fun. A few years later they were campy so-bad-its-good fun. Now they're just sad. And we still hear the stories of performances for five person audiences. And we've gone to the odd show and our group has been the majority of the crowd. They did do a cross Canadian fringe tour with a slapstick retelling of the Hercules myth, but even this year they're remounting shows from the MTW days - shows that made people queasy the first time around.

[Gossip on a blog: +4 points.]

I feel guilty when I think about it. I'm not a huge fan of winning. And they've got endurance - I must give them that. So they keep right on doing what I see as suffering. But I guess they must enjoy it at that.

[Uh-oh-here-comes-the-maudlin: -2 points.]

Are we really that different? Neither company is going professional. Neither company is changing the world, or even the Calgary art scene. Both have audiences composed largely of family, friends, and friends of friends. Both are just doing it because they have fun - because its a better hobby than watching TV five nights a week. We hold ourselves up against our own standards and are satisfied. Those standards just happen to be different.

[Down-right pathetic self-effacing: -5 points.]

But from my point of view - the festival this year had three grades of theatre (as RevKev puts it): Good, Salvagable, and Dire. We hit good despite a script we knew had flaws, but J.vs.S. was dire indeed. It was no homeless-lady-in-cocktail-dress-dances-behind-mute-motionless-business-man show. (My soul, give me back my soul.) But it was a play that couldn't muster a single interesting thing to say about either Jesus or Superman. Or a climax. Or a point.

Despite the pleading of the crowd, that boxer just won't go down. And the hits just keep on coming.

[Pretensious and bitchy wrap-up: -3 points.]

[Final tally: -11. (-10 to -15. Weasel-ey. Your blog is either too mean, or not mean enough. You probably wanted to be even more insulting, but chicked out because its a public forum. Suck it up princess - a little more fire and you'll earn your self a "blitch-slap".)]

Blothering

I am only really productive under a deadline, but I really hate feeling pressured.

So basically, he hates accomplishing things. That's great.

I set out to write a play for a contest in the two weeks after I got out of performing in a show before the deadline. This is proving a taxing process - not because I'm terribly busy, but simply because most of my day is spent doing other things (working, among others) and feeling bad that I'm not working on the play right then.

Add to that the sinking feeling that Lady Rose is right about this play -

(of course she is)

- and I'm in a sort of creative whirlwind with a solid core of mope. I can't wait for the busy to subside so the mope can fully surface.

Yes, folks, he really is this addicted to melancholy. No wonder he's a writer. Sheesh.

For your viewing pleasure: my self portrait.

Why do I blother?

There goes the neighborhood

One day of -30C weather and then it will warm up again.

Seriously, people, I'm joining the apocalypse gang.

Also, I'm doing this at work. I am supposedly swamped at work, but have to wait for stuff on each of several projects. I suppose if the Madre actually came to work she could answer my question and I could work on her project. Her loss.

Portrait of a Transportation department:

The Big Bosses

The Ninjas

The Moms

The BlanksfromBeyond

and working beneath (beside? around? in stead of?) these engineering factions? Me and CrazyBirdLady.

I also make "art" at work. (see above)

Falling is moving

I got a rejection today.

Big surprise.

At least its a sign that somebody thought, however briefly, about producing the play in question. I expected the Lost Junction to reject it - even before they lost their way they wouldn't have been likely to produce a show already produced here in town. But they read my summary.

Woo. I guess we should quit our day job then.

Anyway - I'm attempting to post a picture in this posting. Will it work?

Art. Ish.

I stayed home from work because of the knife in my belly

There is no snow.

Calgary. January. No snow. Warming tempuratures again.

On some shit-mainstream website: "This is not global warming. The warm local air is just keeping the cool air trapped in northern cananda."

And where does the "warm local air" come from? And why is "warm local air" found in all across the Canadian praries (an area the size of western europe mind you)?

The earth, like some dying beggar on the streets of Mozambique, groans through parched lips as her trembling fingers reach pleadingly towards us - the window on our SUV hums closed and we roll away, tires crackling.

Humans are stupid, stupid animals.