Boy, those band guys just arenít getting any younger, are they? How embarrassing. The guess Who, The Tea Party, that CBC Ralph Guy. Oh my Canadian youth. I remember the fat one from the Guess Who (not Randy, he looks pretty good considering, and not the drummer) but that other famous guy. I remember him because I played with him one night about 20 years ago. Afterward he came up to our guitar playerís hotel room with a couple of local hookers, and a big pile of coke. He spent the next hour sniffing it all up in the toilet with his buddies, with my whole band watching through the open door. He never offered us any. What a prick.

Everybody up to AC/DC sucked. THOSE guys rock, and the Stones? Those guys invented this shit. But theyíre never all that good. Sounded like Keith was a little fucked up. Really bad I guess for how good they should be. Crap sound too. Itís like the sound boys had never heard Mick and the boys before. Only the CBC could make these guys sound that bad. At least theyíre not fat, and itís nice of them to lend their name to the event.

They spent a lot of money and Toronto however, SARS or not, still sucks.Ö. and please donít make me watch the singing Mountie chicks againÖ

Now back to the drinkingÖ Toodles.

Great oneÖ "hold"Ö what a dope. This combo of drinks and hot weather is a little hard to take. Itís also a little harder to look busy when youíve got your feet up out back on the olí swing.

Did you ever wonder what kind of a motorhome god would own?

hold

Did you check the links from yesterdays blog? I hope you saw the "horoscope" section. I'm sure now this is a real site. I just wonder if we aren't a c-hair from the whole world falling apart. Seriously man, hardly anyone out there is being productive. We spend so much of our time "servicing" each other. I'm talking contribution here. I'll take a doctor or a firefighter over the guy who made the fart website.

But how many people on the street would you trust with oh say, your computer? Your food? Your water? What I'm getting at is I'm seeing a lot of people around that are really too weird to be doing ANYTHING. More and more every day. Is it just my neighborhood? Or is it just that the productive people are not on display? Meaning on the street, in the coffee shops, in the bar at noon...

I'll bet that's why I never get anything done.

Well, hey. The weather is just too good. That is one of our "problems" say the eastern bastards... "The weather gets good and you guys stop doing anything."

Like YOU'RE getting a lot of work done when your tires are frozen to the ground and everyone's so miserable they want to slash in February...

I spend a lot of time in the basement so when it's nice out ... I come out of the cave. And of course it's hot , so you want drinks, and one thing leads to another and it's all pretty tiring, and so the next thing you know, you're really too weird to be doing ANYTHING.

I think I'm going to go look at that fart website again.


P.S. dotfart.com

RUN AWAYÖ


The limo glides over the pavement at 100 miles an hour. Itís dark now, and weíre still a long way from LA. Iíve got this laptop on loan from a redhead in Seatle and the batteries are good. Iív some catching up to doÖ The story so farÖ

I got a phone call from a producer in California. "Come NOW", he said. "The Limo is in Vancouver."

I told him I wouldnít go unless the car had a fully stocked bar. It has one. I also told him I wanted a suitcase full of cash. Iím resting my feet on whatís left of it right now. That was Thursday. Iím not sure what day it is now Ö possibly SaturdayÖ

NoÖ wait a minuteÖ Itís Tuesday and Iím sitting in front of the computer in the basement. In my gonch.... Shit.

However, I did go to the lake yesterday. I even went swimming. I didnít see the turtle this time. Last week is a blur, next week is already under way, and I canít find my smokes. But lookÖ Iím posting before midnight. Even if it ës not making sense.

ToodlesÖ


P.S. I just can't believe this. More specificaly this. But really this.

Weeeeeeeeeeeee!!

yo...


That Cunt On The Corner

She hands him
a twenty.
He is moored on
his favorite corner,
his little cup out
on the sidewalk threatening
to trip a productive citizen.
He shouts thanks in
an accent I'm learning to hate,
his face glowing in the
red whorish light spilling
from the Shoppers Drug Mart sign.

I wonder, if for every piece
of good will stolen
from others sympathy,
the price was paid in flesh?
For that twenty
if I could kick his
tiny cup into the street
and shout my inner feelings
about his intrusion.
For a C-note could I
kick his head into
the clean wall-brick?

His presence summons a
war party of loosers and
fellow victims of my society,
closing noisy ranks
in an invasion of stupidity.
I feel under fire_ violated.
I want my hand to
retrieve the cell phone
from it_s warm pocket
I can almost feel my
fingers _ 911 they shout!

But instead I
look away, keep
my head down,
and question myself
as I walk silently past.

I am afraid.
I am afraid of stupidity
I am afraid of violence
I am afraid of embarrassment
I am afraid of poverty
I am afraid of illness
I am afraid of that
cunt on the corner.

I hear his drunken
compatriate barking
at passers by
like a distempered
alpha dog.
People become crabs
skittering sideways
leaving a wide berth
around this urban shoal.

My purchase made,
I clutch the
overpriced cigarets
my government just
raped me for.
I step
across the street
to avoid having to
not give one to
T C O T C.

His abusive pal
chooses this moment
to cross the road
to my side.
I slow a little
to give myself
an escape route.
I find myself
tucked into a doorway
watching as he enters
the coffee store.

Slowly I start again.
Across the street,
corner boy has another
pull off his beer.
I walk past the
coffee store.
Abusive pal
flops in a chair.
I feel sorry
for the girls in there.
But I am hungry
and tired
and myself
need a drink,
so I just slip
past it all
into the bar.
Safe for now.

Fat with fingers
of chicken now,
I leave the bar
wondering...
(for not long enough
even to get out
of the door)
if I would
have to run the
cullion gauntlet
of that street
once again.

Aprehensive becomes curious
as my eyes meet
the blaze of cop lights.
"It's on the way"
I think to my looky-loo self,
and I try to pass by
with just a passing glance
but can not.
I stand with
the others.
The others I see
every day.
The ones I look at
and who look at me
in passing silence
are mute
no more.

So quickly
they turn
as I did
to voice an opinion
as long as the police
are there to moderate.
"'Bout time", says one.
"Thanks" says another.
The police have
little time for
our comments.

The abusive drunk
who parked himself
in the coffee store
is looking happy
to be towed away,
by cop two,
as cop one
deals with the
cunt who is not
on his corner.
T C O T C
holds his
dope bag
up high
and talks of cancer
as he
dumps the bag
on the street.
Cop one reminds
us all in a loud voice
that "That stuff's
illegal, you know."
as he collects some
off the street
with a little brush
and a small bag.

T C O T C
is now the
cunt in the back
of the squad car.
He taunts the cop
"I've got tons
of that at home"

"And where would
that be?" we hear
the constable say.

Just as the play
begins to resemble
the closing scenes
of dragnet,
a bakers dozen
of angry agitated
young men appears
surrounding the cop
and pointing
to another group of
angry agitated young men
heading towards us
from up the street.

"That guy hit that guy"
the smallest loudest one says.
"Then that guy hit that guy"
the next smallest
next loudest one says.
They circle around
like big chattering birds,
teasing the policecat.

Cornerboy is upset
at not being
the center of attention.
He sits forgotten
in the squad car.
The agitated young men
have stolen
the front page for tonight.

I don't know how
to feel now.
I Guess
I feel sad.
Sad this happens
in my neighborhood.
Sad for TCOTC
who is now
just some goof
in the back
of a cop car.
Sorry for the cop
that has to deal
with all this shit.

It makes me think
if we lived in a city
of, say twenty people
we wouldn't need police.
We would police
each other.
How big do we allow a city be
before it becomes
what I'm looking at now?

I'm getting cold
and I'm getting bored.
I feel like I
don't belong here.
I wander home wondering.
Wondering why
it has to be
like this.
Wondering what I myself
think of it all.
Wondering if TCOTC
will be back on his corner
tomorrow.

Months later
TCOTC is now
many TCOTCs.
My intense dislike
of the original
has mutated to
a grudging empathy,
as he finds himself
tasting his own medicine
in a small crowd
of the disturbing.

Todays star has
the look of a biker
but is chanting, (or singing)
in a high
falsetto voice.
TCOTC seems
resigned to the idea
of making no money today.
It is a nice day
after all,
and today is
a good day for
theatre on the corner.

I gave him
a few smokes
the other day.
He said thanks,
I said I owe you one.
I think he
wondered why
for a moment.
I guess he tries
not to think
too hard about
things like that.

I wonder if he'll
ever know he's
being written about.
I wonder if he'll
ever know he's
being read about.
I figure he's
immortal now -
electrons will happily
describe him
to those that are interested
for as long as there is power.

There must be some kind of planetary alignment thing happening to me this week. The rent got paid, most of the bills are caught up, Canada is on Vacation, and the Americans are gearing up for a new TV season.

I'm still not exactly working, but I'm busy as hell. I'll tell you why one of these days. I'm bursting to tell someone, just not you creeps.

I feel I'm too busy for this blog thing. I'll try to get to it more often. I say that a lot don't I? I'm surprised by how many of you have told me you read this shit. (Like you "Slim". I thought you only read cereal packages and audio magazines.)

So... some news:

Turns out one of the area's favorite dog walking parks is a gay cruising zone. Maybe we could get THEM to lobby for free parking in the municipal parks.


Anyhoo....I'll have more for you soon. Any one for drinks? Perhaps this weekend?

P.S. I'll try not to just say "hold" here so often. I think we were drinking and I had another "great idea" that never got written down. But hey, what can you do?

hold

Damn... missed midnight again... crap.

My eyes are working again, and I have regained partial use of my fingers. I feel I must attempt to describe yesterday as best as I can as the memories are sketchy and fading fast. So this is the story as I remember it.

Iím a bit of a night owl, so most of my days start with the sun already over the yardarm. Yesterday was typical in that respect. I rolled out of bed about 11:00am had a few coffees and a couple of smokes for breakfast. (I find this to be a great way to keep my girlish figure without starving myself.) For a few moments I tried to play the guitar, but was having one of those days where everything was coming out all so uninspired sounding. It was probably because of yesterdays recording session. Sometimes I feel that certain "artists" can actually lower your musical IQ just by listening to them. I was saved from my musical agony by a phone call.

I was expecting a visit from a friend and this was the "save me from walking up the hill" call. Drinks were decided upon on the way home. My friend has also learned the benefits of vodka and cranberry juice from a mutual hero. (Thanks Mr. T, and if you ever pull a gun on me again, Iíll collapse one of your knees, you freak.) Soon we were sipping crantinis on the comfy old swing in the backyard. It was a beautiful day.

A must apologise to my friend here, I had intended to find out more about him and his interests, as I find him a knowledgeable and personable sort, but Iím afraid I spent most of the time bitching about the common interest that brought us together. I think weíre both "grab it and go" type guys and not "Lets all sit around and discuss it like a bunch of old ladies at bridge club" type executives... I mean "guys".

Anyhoo... Those wee drinks sort of slip down pretty fast when youíre in mid bitchfest, and soon we were out of juice, vodka and time. My friend had promised his brother a night of debauchery on the town, and I think I sent him of with a good start. I was feeling pretty darn good for three oíclock in the afternoon when J got home from work.

Of course, J being a much better party animal than me, insisted upon replenishing the bar immediately. We made it so, and in the process had to walk by Yabooís TCOTC twice with stuff we were obviously buying, apologising for not having any cash for him. That guy really is a C. The next few hours were spent in a similar fashion, all drinking, swinging and bitching. Actually, it was only me bitching. I think J was just trying to have a drink and relax. I remember going over to the neighbours house for a little socialising and a few drinks, and to the other neighbours house for a little socialising and a few drinks. I remember being too drunk to safely handle household appliances, which meant a dinner out.

As always, thereís a point in an evening like this where everything goes pear-shaped, only this time Iím not entirely sure when that was. It could have been when we decided to go to the bar for dinner. I think I had chicken, but there was also drinks,a sandwich and a woman a few chairs away that would not stop talking. Her speech was mesmerising. Not bad looking, with her ass all falling out of those short waisted pants. Yes, thatís it... thatís the last clear memory I have before it all went weird.

I sort of remember being at some kind of a legion, complete with old guys and a band. I remember because they made is sign in and promise to behave. I donít think anyone besides my mother has asked me to promise to behave. They should do that at the nightclubs downtown.

I remember the bass player in the band. He was continuing the thread of musical ineptitude that began the day. The poor other band guys. Even from my "remote viewing" standpoint, you could tell this guy was playing with one musical brain tied behind his back. The other guys were pretty good and this guy didnít have a clue. The rest is a complete blur except for the phrase " they all look the same to me". Iím not sure who said it , but it sounded a bit like my voice.

Anyhoo... I guess everything is all right with the world today, as I woke up next to J in my own bed and thereís coffee and cigarettes in the house. I wonder if my friend made it through the night.

Funny olí place Canada. We went to see some of the celebration yesterday. We got very little sleep around here the night before, as a holiday is a holiday and every opportunity must be taken to placate the liquor gods. Buter gos on toest. Aww fuck, my spell checker is busted again. Well there's something Canadian Ö My edukayshun. I wish theyíd taught me spelling instead of "poetry". (I studied during a heavy Can-Lit-pigs-at-the-troughing in the 70ísÖ donít get me started.)

AnyhooÖ Iím up before 10 and feeling pretty chipper considering. So we take a couple of coffee travelers and walk to the parade route. The warm coffee helped brace us for the spectacle, as we sat on the curb recovering from our half block walk. CROWDED TODAY. Sorry to shout, but it was noisy too. I didnít know we had so many kids in the neighborhood.

Okay, Iíll admit most of it is a bit of a blur now that weíve had a whole day of it (glug, wink) but I do remember the Vancouver motorcycle cops driving up and down the street really fast, and weaving all over the place, nearly hitting each other. Quite a show, and suspenseful too. I say that because, well Ö theyíre Vancouver Cops and I live in North Van. We have RCMP here. So Iím thinking itís Canada day in Vancouver too, so they must be having a parade or two there as well. Now Iím thinking "how many of these guys are there?" and that leads me to wondering if motorcycle demonstration squads are like sports teams and have a first, second, and third string of players. The thought of a bunch of fat third string Vancouver Motorcycle cops imitating DNA strands at 50 clicks right in front of me made me pull my legs a bit closer to the curb.

I think I remember some young dancers and a bunch of guys in kilts. Oh and the Mayor too. I shouted "I forgot to vote this year but I might vote for you next time!" She just looked at me like I was busy buggering a walrus and had just asked her for a wrench and a pair of hamsters. She forgot to wave for a half a block, and I remember some kid beside me saying "You forgot to vote too, daddyÖ so who voted for her then?"

Later we went down to Waterfront Park and caught a bit of a band playing some of that Canadian stuff, looked at the old cars and visited the guy that makes airplanes out of coke cans. Same olí same olí but quite pleasant just the same.

We took in a street show by Joel Walmsley.. Iíve seen this guy a couple of timesÖ heís great. I even gave some money when he passed the hat. Later I asked him why he wasnít in the Just for Laughs Festival and I think I pissed him off.

What I came away with today was a sense that Canada is the world in a blender and that we still like each otherÖ except for the French, of course. Nobody likes them much.