For whatever reason, my previous post refuses to be changed to any colour but black and seeing as the background is black, this makes for confusing, nay impossible reading. However, just highlight over it and pray that this is a one time occurrence.

Each and every one of us have them in us, these devils and gods that have died in the near or distant future and, with frequency or sporadic movement, traverse across the highways, byways, causeway of the coils in our head. We don’t control them, at least not without chemicals, prescribed or otherwise. Like a play I’ve seen a million times, these stock figures visit me with varying degrees of frequency and trauma, never asking permission to ruin a day or lift up the corners of my mouth. Sometimes that lack of announcement or invitation pisses me off and I simmer over their presence, but for the big players, I’ve just come to accept their permanent tenancy. I have the most compassion for the ones I’ve cried over. Tears are generally a once-a-year ritual brought on by an incredibly compacted period of emotion, and frankly, I hate it, not in a shameful way, but rather the physical sensations of that release are so abhorrent to me. Unforgivable, in fact, if you’re the catalyst. Now, I can never forgive you, truly, incapable of it no matter how much I want to rebuild the pavement, but because of it, your devils and gods are much safer in bed for that fact. No unexpected weekend visit to my cerebellum could ever be worse than that feeling, like someone has taken a huge needle and thread with a knot in it and stuck it through my chest, with only the knot on the outside, and the needle forcing it to break on over to the other side. Sticks and stones got nothing on an internal needle trying to implode a rib cage. So the memorial day trippers don’t usually bother me that much. Sometimes they’re even enjoyable in a masochistic kind of way, our devils. Your devil is different than mine is different hers is different from theirs. Cause every man, even if he’s straight as an arrow, has a hard on for the devil.

Alright, here we go. Been a while, but just STFU and we'll get through this.

I've been trying to update at least weekly but once I reach the week and a half mark the guilt sets in, which is a known killer of creativity. But whatev, we're past that. Moving on...

I was in Ottawa last week. I was the playboy escort to an older woman (I took my baba to a bar mitzvah). It actually was kind of fun. In addition to getting to know some cousins that I really adore better, I spent a lot of time with my grandmother (the aforementioned "baba") and, if we're being realistic, there isn't an infinite amount of time left to do that. She's 87 years old and in very good physical condition, but 87 is 87. It wasn't like babysitting, but perhaps similar to traveling with a child of about eight - they know what's going on, but just need a bit of guidance sometimes. I heard a lot of stories about her life pre-me, some two or three times (but who's counting?) and while she makes no airs about being grand, there is something in that graciousness and humility for the life she's lead that makes her one classy dame.


Also, the aforementioned cousins were pretty great. We didn't have a lot of time together, but solid memories were made discussing indie music over beers (this was actually with a significant other of a cousin, but he was equally delightful) and finding common childhood memories by wiki-ing Monkey Island.

Also, I've been made fun of recently for my alleged over-use of the word solid (def 2). That is all. Doesn't really deserve it's own paragraph. But I like the word, so suck it.

Other tidbits:

The movie Once. Delightful little film, but the music is truly outstanding music, in the singer-songwriter vein. Genius.

I've become kinda obsessed with Rosie O'Donnell's blog. I know! Possibly the most uncool thing ever. However, I'm not there all the time because I think she's a beacon of light in a world increasingly bathed in darkness. Rather, I find the community that does consider her that beacon (and also the one that vehemently opposes that notion) a very interesting study, specifically in the 'ask ro' section. America, while arguably the most fucked of all western nations, is morbidly fascinating.

I've discovered the link function on my blog and let me tell you... like a fat kid on a smartie.

Alright. That is all. I'll be back shortly to resume discussing things that are actually poignant/funny/interesting.