DeathOfCool.org

Just arrived in from a well spent afternoon rock climbing at Rattlesnake point. My limbs are rather sore and my throat remains an angry beast. It was great to see Sean and the gang again, reminds me that sometimes I really should pry myself away from the computer and the spoken word scene and just be social for a change. You know, be social for the sake of being social. I would like to take a brief moment to thank the gang for telling all their most horrific stories of climbing accidents as I was precariously balanced 20 metres off the ground (and you all wonder why I slipped!!!) But I will digress since it’s far too late and I should be in bed so I am going to shut the hell up and go there. Goodnight world.

Despite being sick as hell yesterday with a medication-resistant migraine, B and I got our veggie garden going. We now have an approx. 6′ by 2′ garden plot with carrots, cucumbers, peas, blueberries, lettuce and soon tomatoes. Our little slice of country livin’ in the city. I should also have some sunflowers this fall, and anyone who knows me, knows how much I love sunflowers. I, after all, carried three of them down the aisle at my wedding. B built a fence from wooden posts and chicken wire to surround the whole thing, so hopefully the dogs won’t wrestle their way into it.

Yes, I think we’re definitely becoming unwashed hippies…

I want to be outside.

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I found out B will be working days for most of May.  So this means that for the first time in months, we’ll actually get to see each other for more than an hour a day.  That’s pretty great news.

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I still wish I was outside though… the weather’s too nice to be cooped up in a room with no windows.

Last night I got to hold a real shrunken head in my hands and smell the inside of a centuries-old mummy (which, for the record, smelled of spice). It’s a very cool thing to be that close to history (touching it, smelling it, experiencing it on a level that goes beyond the visual) - as we’re all so used to history being something read about in books, watched in documentaries and seen through display cases in museums. It was cool, really really cool.

Noon, Sunday. Still plagued with the sore throat from hell, have contemplated cutting off head as a result. Been chatting this AM with Jen on ICQ, while ‘da boi’ keeps dashing out of my apartment at random moments to caffeinate (I don’t think that’s a word - but it should be). I try not to OD on caffeine on weekends because God knows I am practically on a caffeine drip during the week. It has been a lazy morning, which means that I am feeling some intense guilt right now because I have like three billion things to do right now and not nearly enough time in my LIFETIME to get them done.

In a grumpy mood. I can’t believe that this sore throat is still with me. A few minutes ago as I was about to type this update my whole computer started acting really bizarre. I swear sometimes I think it is possessed by poltergeists or otherworldly demons or something. Needless to say more things were crashing around here than in a Los Angeles earthquake. Anyhow, I have spent far too many hours playing MacPuyo this evening, aka: the most additive video game ever and now it is time for bed. Over and out!

An example of the strange sorts of things that cross my mind when I am stuck at home on Saturday night cleaning my house: ‘Why on earth do I find Jon Stewart so damned sexy? Is it some sort of weird fetish, kinda like that thing I have for boys in angel’s wings?’

It is a beautiful day outside, nice to see after  the past week or two of persistant rain.

I had a ridiculously long but much needed sleep last night.  Although well rested my sore throat is still with me.

Yesterday I managed to catch one of the screenings of the ‘Mental Hygiene Festival’ at the Bloor Cinema.  What is the ‘Mental Hygiene Festival’? you ask.  It is a collection of old classroom propaganda / educational films shown in American schools from the 1940s - 1960s.  They dealt with such important topics as good table manners, the dos and don’ts of dating and why home dry cleaning is such a bad idea (don’t ask.)  Great for some good laughs and to realize just how far we’ve come in the past 50 years.  ‘Teenager’ is no longer a dirty word.

What an insane evening! A call from Joshie, a call from *the ex* and a call from this wonderful lady who just booked me for this year’s OM Festival. Colour me excited and elated and sort of nervous (there are going to be about 3500 people there apparently) and a whole bunch of other colours too. This will, without question, be the biggest spoken word gig I have ever done. Like I said, I am a little intimidated.

After just getting off the phone with my ex-bf, I must admit that it still freaks me out every time he tells me that he has a new gf. I wonder why? It’s weird, something in my belly gets all twitchy and I can’t figure out what I am feeling. It is not jealousy. It is not sadness. It is not regret. We were always poorly matched, sort of like those toys in kindergarten where you have to fit the blocks in the appropriately shaped holes. I guess it has something to do with the past and the reminder that those years we walked through made us less innocent than our beginnings and the signs of history and love and the places we dwelled will always leave markings on our souls even now and in the future when we realize that things were doomed to fail, we will still feel strangely nostalgic.