a musical interlude

a friend shared this with me today.
and now i'm sharing it with you.
because i really like it.

things that go buzz in the night

when you live in a climate like the one “enjoyed” by toronto, summers can be extremely hot and humid and gross. when summers are extremely hot and humid and gross – or, heck, just warm and humid and gross – you get all sorts of creepy crawly things coming out when the sun goes down. for some reason, the dank, moist air attracts the biggest, scariest creatures like my former best pals, the scutigerae, who plagued me almost nightly when i lived at hell house. they would scurry out across the floor in the dim light of the TV, or appear on my walls just as i was getting ready for bed, or sit in my sink or bathtub because they enjoyed the cool feel of the porcelain. many a night was spent with me drenched in panic sweat, chasing some scutigera around like a crazy woman.

thankfully, VERY thankfully, scutigerae prefer cool, damp, organic environments like those found in the rotting wood-and-papier-maché walls of hell house...so my current big, concrete apartment isn’t so inviting and they have been comparatively scarce. (knockonwoodknockonwoodknockonwood...)

one of my other frequent tormenters in this kind of weather, though, are the flying crickets. i have no idea what these insects actually are, but they *look* like flying crickets. they’re big, and black, and shiny and they bounce around streetlamps and light sources on summer nights.

or, they fly at me out of the darkness of my apartment. they did it at hell house, and they’ve done it here. dammit.

as you may recall, it was my birthday earlier this week, and young beatrix bestowed upon me a gift: Moskito Finito®, an electrified mini-tennis racquet that you use to swat and kill all manner of flying insect. a friend of hers has one and swears by it for outdoor BBQs, patio time and the like. annoyed by that thing buzzing around your head or your plate? one whack with the Moskito Finito® and it’s toast. literally.



now, the MF® comes with all sorts of warnings. like, don’t touch the electrified grid. ever. take the batteries out when you’re not using the MF®. only use it on insects...not, presumably, pets, small children or obnoxious morons on the subway. but it promises to solve all your summertime-bug problems.

i was skeptical, to say the least. for starters, this device would only work on something flying through the air...not on something that’s LANDED. and, as we all know, it’s often MUCH easier to kill something when it’s standing still.

nonetheless, i took it home, loaded it up with batteries (it takes two AA), and placed it on my desk. when i work, i have my “office” lights on, and they’re the only lights in my apartment in summer. lights attract the flying crickets.

WELL...

two nights after bringing the MF® home and gittin’ ‘er ready, i was sitting at my desk, working on my computer. it was about 10:30pm, and it had been warm out but not exceedingly so. suddenly, i heard the familiar buzz-zzzpt-buzz-zzzpt and looked up to see one of those giant flying crickets bouncing off my ceiling right over my head (and right in the glow of my floor lamp).

i FLEW out of my chair and immediately grabbed the MF®! i turned it on and pressed the activation button, which would fire up the electrified grid! OMG, HERE WE GO!!!! heart pounding, sweat starting, i stared up at the flying cricket and actually said, “now you’re gonna get it...”

except...

the flying cricket did not get it. see, i learned that in order for the MF® to be effective, several key factors must be in place:

1. you need wind-up room. you need enough space to swing that racquet as though you’re at wimbledon, so that the force of the impact + the electric charge will kill your target.

2. your target needs to be flying in open space...enough space for you to swing. and you have to be able to hit it sideways – i.e., forehand or backhand. the MF® does not work if you volley or spike. unless, once again, you have a ton of wind-up room.

3. the MF® is completely useless if your target decides to sit down.

so, after flailing away in several futile attempts to destroy the winged invader i think all i managed to do was aggravate it and fan it with a delightful breeze. the MF® was basically useless in this situation. eventually, the flying cricket landed on the wall, i RAN to get a shoe and i squashed it with that in one forceful smoosh. oh well.

i was a tad disappointed in the MF®’s efficacy. i mean, it’s no cheap toy. but maybe it’s meant for outdoor use. or use within lofts. or use in trixie’s friend’s yard only.

nonetheless, i remain armed and ready for the next attack.

with my Moskito Finito® poised on my desk once again.

and one of my shoes nearby as back-up.

since then...

...i have been writing. some new stuff (poetry) and some old stuff (umpteenth rewrite of a screenplay because i've found a new angle). inspiration really does come from the weirdest, most random places sometimes.

birth day

birthday-eve learnings

eyebrows need a section of straight line.

eyelashes look better curly.

funnel clouds can form in the suburbs.

GO trains can almost tip over if they try to drive through a foot or so of water covering the tracks.

passengers on GO trains can thusly be terrified by a foot-and-a-half of water.

cake and potato chips make for a surprisingly filling, and sustaining, lunch.

leftover fakebarbecuewithrosemary chicken tastes even better on day two if reheated with enough of the fakebarbecuewithrosemary sauce.

anything tastes better with enough sauce.

but only if it’s good sauce.

it takes about 30 tries before you get the picture you want.

george carlin died. he was the master of detachment.

tomorrow, i think i might wish for a little of what george had.

there was cake

lest anyone be worried.

introspective literary analysis

my birthday approaches.

for me, birthdays = introspection. analysis. examination. diagnosis. resolution. catharsis.

birthdays = questions. what has happened? what will happen? how did i do? how will i do? what changed? what will change? who should stay? who should go? everything tethered to when...always when.

birthdays = inventory. of successes. of failures. of mistakes. of lessons. of memories. of hopes. of dreams. of wishes wished on flickering candles.

even though my behaviour may suggest otherwise, my own birthdays aren’t ever about cake for me.

divining intervention

i enjoy horoscopes.

i don't follow them to the letter or take them at face value -- let's be honest, under the right circumstances and timed well, the forecast for any given sign could work just as well and be just as seemingly accurate for any other sign. but they're fun and, if i'm sitting on the fence about an issue, they can sometimes give me that teeny tiny nudge one way or the other. they can drop an ounce of hope into my morning, or give me pause to ponder caution.

today, my calendar of lies had this to say: "projects that have been delayed for take-off ought to get clearance as mercury resumes direct motion. this should make life easier for you and -- by extension -- for those around you."

huh. nice.

and then i wondered what other sources might have to say to me about wednesday, june 18th. so here are eleven more insights from various spots on the web:

* In the film War Games, a hacker taps in to a remote mainframe and begins to play a game he finds there. As it turns out, the mainframe is an artificially intelligent supercomputer that serves as hub of operations for the U.S. Air Force, and the game has real-world consequences. The hacker inadvertently triggers a cascade of events that could launch an actual global conflagration. After many scary plot turns, the danger of disaster dissipates when the supercomputer makes a momentous decision: The only way to win the game is to not play it. That approach could work well for you, my fellow Crab. The game you're playing is nowhere near as dangerous as the one in War Games, of course, but why not play to win?

* Feelings and actions are in completely synchronized today and this gives you fewer distractions so that your energy levels are powerful. You must harness this energy in a constructive manner rather than wasting it and feeling later on that you had not achieved what was possible. It's not a bad idea to spend time with others who are highly motivated as this will serve to sustain your good feelings just now.

* A goal or vision you have been working toward comes into fruition now, or gains momentum and positive recognition from others. You feel expansive and inclined to take risks, and you may be overly extravagant now.

* You may be forgiven for thinking that today’s significant planetary changes are causing you some initial stress, but as soon as those prickly influences shift, you’ll start to notice the benefits. In the meantime, romantic matters may seem grueling or complicated, but a heart-to-heart should be deferred until tomorrow!

* You are gong to experience a lot more of one of your favorite things today -- balance. Things are about to equalize in all aspects of your life, so get ready to enjoy a healthier period that will give you a stronger sense of security and confidence. You are feeling totally in control and it looks like someone you care about is finally ready to take another step in the right direction in their life. You should use this as inspiration for you own long-delayed changes.

* You will be looking for ways to enjoy yourself in your coming time off, and will find that movies and music are your most gratifying choices. Be open minded about the new music that your children or younger people in your social circle are listening to.

* Put your intuitive feelers out there before you jump in or commit to anyone right now or you might run into a cold reception. People taking themselves too seriously are probable today, so try not to be one of them. Take it all with the idea and respect that others may be having problems.

* Don't even try to reach a decision until all the facts are in. No one can fault you for taking a stand even if it's unpopular. If you have something important to say, then let your opinions be known. Others are as impressed by your actions as they are by your promises.

* Today you may find it more difficult to focus, therefore you are advised to postpone making major decisions. You'd better avoid activities requiring intellectual effort. Pay more attention to your need for rest!

* No matter what you choose to do, you’re determined to give it your best shot. Some delays are indicated, however. Keep your cool when discussions become heated.

* Today's Full Moon competes with some very strong aspects that tug at your heartstrings and emotions. For those of you busily getting into better physical condition, you're willing to accept a certain amount of pain or discomfort in order to get desirable results. On an emotional level, you might struggle with a need to protect a loved one from harm. This might be perceived as meddling or unwanted restriction in your loved one's eyes. Instead of forcing the issue and allowing things to build into a big thundercloud, lower your voice, calm yourself, and remind your friend or loved one that you're worried about him or her. Most of all, remind this person that you can't bear to see him or her get hurt. Explain yourself from a gut level and your message will be heard, appreciated and absorbed. If you just tell another what to do, you'll get nowhere.

feel free to choose the one that fits you best and embrace it today.

reflective associative observations: a true story

the other day, i stood in the shade under a large maple tree while i waited for the bus. i felt something small drop from above and hit my arm. i looked up into the tree and saw that an entire leafy branch directly overhead was completely covered in large black caterpillars. every inch was encased with dark, undulating creatures chomping away.

but just that one section of that one branch.

i stepped away but kept looking.

the caterpillars were obviously moving towards the centre of the tree from the outward edge of this branch. they had already eaten every leaf off every twig at the tip of the branch, so that the tree looked like it was dying from its fingertips inwards. but no other branches had yet been touched, and i couldn’t see any other caterpillars anywhere else on the tree. just that branch.

and i wondered: how did the caterpillars get to the outside tip without eating their way there? there was no path of destruction to be seen. the rest of the tree was intact and green and perfect. did the squirmy marauders crawl along with purpose, bypassing all the other leaves because they had a start line from which they would work?

or were they deposited there? if so, how? and by whom, or by what?

then i thought about the noble tree. living, thriving and waiting. what must it be like to feel the cancer eating away at you bit by bit, inch by inch, moment by moment...and be completely unable to stop it?

associative literary paralysis

contemplative
inquisitive
reflective
meditative
perspective
perceptive
deceptive
restrictive
persuasive
inconclusive
quantitative
indecisive
interpretive
narrative
addictive
corrosive
destructive

sedative

pensive
detective
tentative
initiative
objective
receptive
intuitive
assertive
creative
sensitive
positive
seductive
expressive
imaginative
supportive
attractive
productive
deductive
effective
qualitative
affirmative
transformative
emancipative

elusive

© yepimawriter 2008

reflective literary paralysis

can you undo a precedent?

is it true that the most beautiful things, quite often, are the most dangerous?

without borders, where does one territory end and the next begin?

do your thoughts define you?

what happens if we misinterpret signs from the universe...or are the misinterpretations the actual signs?

am i the square peg or the round hole?

when will someone give me a headband printed with green frogs...and mean it?

observational literary paralysis

today i saw many interesting things.

a dead squirrel, lying as if curled up asleep, on the grass beside the sidewalk around varsity arena. there was a big fly on its eye. i wished i had a camera.

hundreds of graduates and their parents milling about the U of T campus, post-convocation.

a teenage girl, sitting alone on the steps of the museum just before 7pm, practicing a speech. in anglophonic french.

my fears realized, then put into a different context, by an elderly stranger. it wasn’t comforting.

25 short films of varying quality.

one feature-length film so bad it should have been a short.

a girl who reminded me of a girl i know.

a smile from another who reminded me that i exist.

a perfect june sky.

buffalo tales, chapter two: the cake festival that wasn’t

you’d think i’d be ALL over a festival of cake.

actually, it was a festival of desserts.

actually, it was “sweet taste of western new york,” a set-up inside a local shopping mall where some of the city’s restaurants served “half-portions” of their “signature desserts” for $2 a pop.

please note: pop was not for sale.

when we walked into the mall and saw it advertised, my heart leapt in my chest a little. “a FESTIVAL OF DESSERT?!?! where’s my fork?!”

there were glass cases displaying all manner of delicious-looking delectables. fancy cakes, ornate cupcakes, giant cookies...everything looked amazing and i suddenly imagined myself walking out of the mall looking like that rotund kid in Willy Wonka, smacking his lips, face smeared with chocolate.


i really wanted to be all over this event, but i was not.

from vendor to vendor, the size of the portions varied from generous (rare) to microscopic (frequent), so your $2 could buy you a giant serving of tiramisu or a teensy little cup of nothing depending on the restaurant. the arrangement of booths was also such that it stretched from one end of the mall to the other, down three corridors...which meant walking the full length of the complex in order to see which wares were where. none of the desserts in the display cases were anywhere to be seen on any table from any restaurant...and i think only one place had any actual, proper cake (some sort of berry layer-cake creation).

when we finally reached the last vendor and thought we had decided which desserts we wanted to try, we practically collapsed under the knowledge that we’d have to walk alllllll the way back to the start to get what we’d selected. (we figured we’d split a tiramisu to start, and then split some sort of cake affair as a chaser.)

unfortunately, on that long walk back, logic, reason and skepticism set in.

did we really want dessert, or should we wait an hour and have a proper dinner?

did we really want tiramisu that had been sitting out in the mall all afternoon, far away from any cooling device?

the answers to both questions turned out to be “no.”

so we opted to eat nothing.

but we did get free ice-cream scoopers. so, you know, that was almost as good as lots of cake.

almost.

buffalo tales, chapter one: YB vs. the hash-brown girl

sometimes when young beatrix and i are tooling along the highway on one of our road trips, we have to pee. and, when we do, we usually find a rest area along the way or we pull off at a random exit and look for the nearest mcdonald’s.

such an incident occurred on day one, hour one of our recent jaunt to america. YB felt nature’s call, and so we made a pit stop.

we walked into the golden arches in oakville, visited the restrooms and were going to leave when trix decided she’d like to pick up a hash brown to eat in the car. there were maybe three people waiting at the counter, so she lined up to order.

unbeknownst to us, the sole employee manning the register was hash-brown girl (herein known as HBG). HBG was, apparently, living her life two speeds slower than the rest of us. she wasn’t in any hurry to do anything, least of all serve customers. the manager – as identified by her fancy-pants headset, burgundy uniform and misplaced self-importance – was angrily barking at the minion working the drive-through window, so she wasn’t really paying attention to HBG’s sloth-like handiwork. or, handi-non-work, as it were.

YB placed her order – one hash brown...just a single hash brown...not a big breakfast, not some convoluted combo...one lone, lowly, little hash brown – and then we waited.

and waited.

and waited.

we saw a basket of un-fried hash browns sitting near a fryer, so YB theorized that perhaps they’d run out and we’d have to wait for a new batch to be ready. “sorry,” trix said to me. “i didn’t know it would take this long.” as we stood there, watching the minutes tick by, a line of customers began to form. people who hadn’t yet placed orders. hungry people. people who might want hash browns with their breakfasts.

but HBG was oblivious. she disappeared for a bit (we thought maybe she was also making all the food, but no) and then returned to take one order. all the while, we waited for a single hash brown. i started to wonder if i should just hop over the counter and drop the basket of frozen patties into the damn fryer myself just to get our show on the road.

then, HBG walked over to the large french-fry receptacle/prep area – you know, the giant steel box with the bin for the freshly fried fries, the one that’s sort of at the end of the register counter? – and started bagging hash browns that had been sitting in the fry bin...DONE. apparently, the whole time we were waiting, a big batch of hash browns had been there, just waiting to be put into the little hash-brown sleeves. WTF?!

but any hostility over this lapse in HBG’s judgment was quickly erased with some (premature in hindsight) glee. at last, we thought, trix can get her hash brown and we can finally go! a light has just been illuminated at the end of this bizarrely slow-moving tunnel!

but no.

because, despite trix wanting just ONE hash brown...and HBG standing there with a wealth of hash browns at her fingertips...she did not bring one over. instead, HBG stood there at the fry bin and very slowly, one by one, put one hash brown after another into sleeves. WHILE EVERYBODY INTHE RESTAURANT WAITED FOR HER.

to be clear, no one had ordered 18 hash browns. there was no need for her to PRE-PACKAGE that many all at once, while a line of hungry customers and two sisters waiting to continue with their road tripping stood in awe watching her waste time. someone had obviously skipped her time-management session at the mcdonald’s training academy.

people started to get restless.

i started to laugh at the absurdity as HBG continued with her mindless sleeving of fried potato mash.

and one woman holding a motorcycle helmet looked like she wanted to kick HBG in the shins with her steel-toed boots.

when HBG fiiiiiinally finished racking about a dozen hash browns, she walked the four feet back to her register.

EMPTY-HANDED.

then she looked down at YB’s order ticket, walked BACK to the fry-bin area, and returned with the hash brown.

she had (obviously) managed to FORGET what she’d gone to the fry bin to do in the first place oh so long ago.

by this point, trix and i were both laughing....at HBG’s sheer cluelessness and occupational apathy, and the fact that a pee-break pit stop that should have taken about three minutes stretched to nearly quadruple that.

on the upside, as we walked back to the car we both agreed that, despite her ineptitude, HBG will now forever be part of our road-trip lore. and, for that, we kind of love her.

temporary literary aphasia

i started to write a lengthy entry, but stopped halfway through and deleted the whole thing. i felt compelled to condense everything into my newly adopted format of late.

i wish i could bottle the smell of the air outside right now. it smells like june, and it only ever smells like this for a day or two each year. like blossoms and rain and the last day of school.

i am addicted to cherry-passion tic tacs.

krispy kreme donuts make a fine breakfast.

auntie anne’s pretzels are a decent lunch.

say what you will, but good things can come from facebookery.

tomorrow morning, i’m going to a screening of The Happening. i am approaching it with a mixture of skepticism and dread.

earlier, a giant flying beetle scurried out from alongside one of my shoes. these flying beetles appear to me every june. usually just one. often flying at my TV late at night. i thought it was a phenomenon of hell house, but it continued here. i have no idea what this means or why they appear or how. but they do. every year. and i am grateful that there is only ever one...sometimes two, at most...because they are big and scary. i killed it, as i have killed all of its predecessors.

my calendar of lies continues to veer back and forth between “eerily accurate” and “a huge load of crap.” today, accuracy reigns.

you can find kindred spirits everywhere if look for them.

this morning, i closed a window on my left-hand ring finger. sweet mother of all that is good and pure on this earth, it huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurt. it has stopped throbbing.

buffalo tales will follow. eventually.

transported literary paralysis

my sister and i are going away for a long weekend of shopping and eating. this means: crap food. delicious, delicious crap food.

i was not alarmed by my slight weight loss until people i know started to become alarmed. this is mildly alarming.

today on the subway, i saw a man with a disproportionately small head.

today on the GO train, everyone was talking on their cell phones.

my wrenched neck was the result of myriad events. so says my chiropractor. and she's right.

i will not have email access for three days.

i will not have facebook access for three days.

i will not have blog access for three days.

i think i'm developing the shakes.

and i wonder what my life will be like offline.

rhyme-y literary paralysis

today i wrote at length about skis.

i ate rice that had no peas.

my windows were open for the last cool breeze.

we are all separated by the tiniest degrees.

there’s some pain in my knees.

i heard a story about stinging bees.

shot some video that’s borderline cheese.

my drawers are filled with needless Ts.

geez.

adopted literary paralysis

the transference of literary paralysis from one writer to another ceases to exist when the receptive writer embraces it and claims it as a gift from the giver.

young beatrix broke off a big chunk of one of her molars. eating a fig newton. you could see the root of the tooth...before it was fixed. the fix may be temporary. time, and the life of the nerve, will tell.

style makes the man and the woman. and sometimes a stylish man can mold a stylish woman.

tonight i had oatmeal for dinner. i don’t know that this was sufficient, even though i had it with a glass of molasses-thick orange-mango nectar.

i have somehow, in some way, and at some point today wrenched my neck in such a way that it hurts to turn my head to the left. i took a short nap and was sleeping on my left side, but i don’t think that did it. at least, not entirely.

video greetings are fun.

it is about to get unbearably hot in toronto. i am not looking forward to temperatures in the 30s (ºC), with humidexes in the 40s. i need to break out the seasonal nail polish for the toes.

i seem to be unable to consistently sleep well. it’s one night on, one night off. or two nights off. or three. but only ever one at a time of sound, rejuvenating slumber.

i now know all about ski resorts across the country.

i did not leave my apartment at all today.

sorbet: kite song

Kite Song
by Patty Griffin

The Sunday after
There was laughter in the air
Everybody had a kite
They were flying everywhere
And all the trouble went away
And it wasn't just a dream
All the trouble went away
And it wasn't just a dream

In the middle of the night
We try and try with all our mights
To light a little light down here
In the middle of the night
We dream of a million kites
Flying high above
The sadness and the fear

Little sister just remember
As you wander through the blue
The little kite that you sent flying
On a sunny afternoon
Made of something light as nothing
Made of joy that matters too
How the little dreams we dream
Are all we can really do

In the middle of the night
The world turns with all of its might
A little diamond colored blue
In the middle of the night
We keep sending little kites
Until a little light gets through

* * *

transferred literary paralysis vol. III

the first thing i read today was an email that made me happy but sad.

it rained for much of the morning. the skies eventually cleared and the sun shone, but the air remained heavy. dank. oppressive. now it’s overcast and about to start raining again.

i met a new tenant this afternoon. we shared the elevator and she smelled very strongly of cigarettes. she was a little twitchy, and apologized for the smell of smoke, explaining that she was trying to quit. i learned her life story in under six floors.

the sound of fire engines speeding past, sirens blaring, happens daily.

i stayed in my pyjamas until about 1:30pm today. then i went to the library.

freelancing is a continuous cycle of famine and feasting in every conceivable way.

sometimes, a phone call is in order.

i am considering buying an iPod Touch.

i’m not sure why, but i’ve felt especially affectionate and tender-hearted today. like i want to hug everyone. except the woman in the elevator.

transferred literary paralysis vol. II

i will be eating the leftover spaghetti for dinner later. waste not, want not.

the girl down the hall has finally removed her rescued furniture from outside her door. i think someone else complained to the super.

it’s warm and breezy out today. i have all my windows open and the white curtain panels are swaying in unison from wall to wall.

a flurry of maple-tree helicopters just cascaded against my window panes.

i am trying to abide my page-a-day horoscope calendar. and then i remember that it’s also a calendar of lies.

last night, there was a baby scutigera in my sink. i killed it. then i looked to the floor and saw a silverfish scurrying along the edge of the wall. i killed that, too...then wondered if the two of them had been friends who’d come together.

i can’t believe it’s june 2nd already.

it’s 2:17pm and i am still in my pyjamas.