Onehundred Ninetysix

Fallen oak trees were all that remained of what once used to be a place of beautiful seclusion. It was said a hospital was going to take its place. Kill the earth so that we may live. Some would say that was a good thing, some would cry out at the injustice of it.

The city would make sure there was a lot of foliage to help maintain the image of what once was, to try and hide the fact that hundreds of trees were now gone. The press would make it look good, that was their job. In time, people would forget. The hospital will create jobs and serve as a place where many loved one's lives are saved.

Strong memories are hard to forget and at least in those memories and in the photographs taken, that oak forest will live on. We had taken many walks together in that forest. It was the place where we had our first picnic. I'll remember the way she smiled and let out a joyful sound when I removed the blindfold and she saw were she was. It was where her grandfather would take her and taught her about nature. It was where she went for her assignment in photography. It was where she wanted her wedding photos taken, right by our tree. That big beautiful tree where I had carved our initials in a heart into.

Too bad she wasn't here with me right now because I'd have to tell her when she got back from her trip to Fiji. She would have to see this for herself, and that meant having me there beside her, which meant I'd have to see this again, relive this again. It would be another sad day but I was the man, so I could handle it. I would have to handle it so I could support her. For right now that was something I'd face another day. Right now I stood in silence and morned the passing of this ...well it wasn't a forest anymore now, was it. This soon-to-be hospital. I suppose this site would always carry sorrow now. If not for the forest, for the people who would come here to die. And that is the nature of life, to be here for what would seem only a moment, only to pass before you could have your say.

Onehundred Ninetyfive

Okay so I was going to write today's blog while I still had to pee, but the more I thought about if I could last or how quick I'd have to type or how long I could type for, and what I'd type about while I really had to go... I just couldn't hold it. The pressure was too immense, it was too much of a strain on my body, the weight of the need to pee was too heavy, the seconds were too long and far in between and one minute seemed like it might last a year, the urgency was becoming too much to bare! I just had to go and there was nothing that could stop me, not even the good idea of writing under pressure.

After, there was much relief. So then I thought, but what about writing under pressure? This is no good! I can't just have imaginary pressure, if I could work under that sort of thinking, I probably would have done better in school. I thought, maybe if I imagine the internet is about to be cut off and the last thing I'd want the world to know is in this blog! But then I thought if that were true, how could they access what I had written? So that didn't work. Or maybe there was some kind of contest where if you wrote a full on blog in the next few minutes you'd win a prize. But then I could only think of what kind of prizes there might be for such a contest and if there was a choice between prizes which would I choose? The Lazy Boy relining chair? The trip to Winnipeg? The gift card to Wendy's?

Now instead of a blog written under pressure, you get a blog about the lack of pressure because I just couldn't hold it in. It's good and bad, and the fight is between my body and my mind. My body is thankful for the relief but my mind is disappointed from the lack of creative muse.

WOTD:

Obloquy - (n) 1. strongly condemnatory utterance or language 2. bad repute: disgrace (syn) dishonor, shame, infamy, disrepute, ignominy

Haiku:

Beating with a sock

Warm, fresh out of the dryer

Barely felt at all.

Onehundred Ninetyfour

I was thinking about the super power based on eye color thing, and I guess your super powers wouldn't have to be elemental based, but it just seemed more natural for one to have more earthen super powers than supernatural.

I can't remember the last time I had waffles. I've had pancakes, but I don't remember waffles. I must have had them within the last two years... but maybe not. I also can't remember the last time I tied my hand at painting. But that's not nearly as tasty as waffles. Oh, I wonder if you can paint at the Mendal Art Gallery. They have a section where you can make your own art, with supplies provided, I wonder if that includes paint supplies, or if they could supply some if you asked. I should do that sometime.

It has also been a while since I've gone camping. As in, I've got my tent, sleeping bag, and fire pit and that's all there is. I think the last time I did that was with Dave and Jeremy, which was also the first time I met Jeremy. I wonder if that was the last time I had toasted marshmallows? Or maybe I had toasted marshmallows at my family's reunion.

I think, in order to resolve these cliff hangers, I'll have to go on a camping trip where we have waffles and toast marshmallows. Oh, we could have toasted marshmallows on our waffles, in the tent! Then we can sit around the fire and sing and make bear calls. Or I could paint a picture of me doing those things... would that be the same? I guess it's quicker than actually doing it.

Okay, that's a plan! Now it's time for a haiku:

Lost in the forest
Looking for berries and nuts
Find bear, lose bowels.

Onehundred Ninetythree

I think it would be cool if humans had super powers, but how would you determine what kind of powers you had?

One way could be by eye color. Each color would be assigned a different color, but those with mixed colors... either you would have two powers or you wouldn't have any powers at all because your color has to be pure. We would call you "normies" and rule over you. I think the only way you'd have two powers would be if your eyes were two different colors and each eye's color was pure.

The eye colors most common are: hazel, blue, brown, green, grey, and amber. The powers would be as follows:

Green - control over earth's vegetation

Blue - flight, the control over the air, control over water

Brown - control over the soil and tectonic plates

Amber - control over fire

Hazel - control over animals

Grey - control over the earth's metals (also anything made of those metals)

I'm not too sure of any ranking order there might be, but I suppose it would be whatever group was best able to contribute to humanity. Green is good because we need plants, Amber is good because we need fire, Brown is good because we need good soil, Blue is good because we need water and also flying is fun, Hazel... well animals taste good but I don't think it'd be control over dead animals but maybe they could make it so the animals don't feel pain when they die and they would also be able to maintain population amongst the animal kingdom, keeping animals from extinction. Grey ...if you have control over metal... you could help the economy? Somehow? Maybe Grey would be at the bottom and from there, let there be debates.

Meanwhile, I'ma go fly and make sure it rains where it needs to.

WOTD:

Shimmy - (n) an abnormal vibration esp. in the front wheels of a motor vehicle.

Oh. So how's that fit into "shimmy and shake"... ohhh, we just turned that phrase around to stand for dancing. I get it.

Haiku:

Rolling down hillside

Grass merging with my clothing

Tide can handle it.

Onehundred Ninetytwo

Have you even woken up in the morning and wondered who you were supposed to be?

Do you ever think that you could have a twin, from which you have been separated since birth? How would you know which of you is the evil and which is the good twin? What if you're the good twin? Or if you're the evil twin? What if through-out your life you thought you were good, but really you're the evil twin? Or if you thought you were evil but you're actually the good twin? How much more evil is your evil twin?

If you found out you were the evil twin, would you try and change your ways? Or maybe you found out you were the good twin, would you try and stop your evil twin? Or vice verse? I don't know what I'd do if I found out I was the evil twin, but I'd think it was funny, or at least for a little while. Do you think if the two of you ever met it would have to be a fight to the death?

Maybe you could join forces because it's not like, if you're good you're at the one end of the spectrum and if you're evil you're at the other end, it could be that you're both near the middle, just one is a little more good than the other. It would be more the way you make decisions that's the difference. One chooses to hold the door open, the other doesn't. One chooses to do their homework, the other decides to slack off.

Haiku:

Green grassy field
Birthing forth all its flowers
Surrounded by trees.

Onehundred Ninetyone

She had been searching for about one mile but still hadn't picked up any sort of trail. Dense as the jungle may be, Lhuna was the best tracker of her tribe, the Porachae. Lhuna was trying to track down her brother's killer, and for two hours she thought she was hot on his trail but then his tracks seemed to disappear. It wasn't as though Lhuna wasn't able to see his tracks, it was more like they had just stopped. She back tracked the mile she just came, watching for anything she might have missed or over looked.

She noticed the black wasps weren't out looking for prey and this was usually their time of day. It was certainly hot enough for them... Lhuna paused to listen. What happened to all the insect life? She realised that there wasn't even the faint hum of the purple lotus fly. There was the call of the red-beaked warbler, and she could hear the white-throated howler monkeys, the yellow-tailed northern hawk gave out a cry, as well as many other creatures that could normally be heard, but she could not seem to hear any of the insects.

When she got back to the last place she had seen his tracks, she bent to examine them further. The grass and moss had been firmly pressed down, more so than a few of his other steps that lead up to this one last step. Why was that? At first Lhuna thought it had been because he had somehow got up into the trees, but none of the surrounded trees had branches that were low enough, even if he had jumped. And if he had jumped, his tracks would show that he had sped up rather than slowed down. His footprints would be further apart rather than closer together.

As Lhuna examined the tracks she thought maybe he had gone left, where the jungle began to thin out a little but there was no indication in his tracks to support that thought. And there certainly was no evidence showing that he went right, where the jungle only became more and more dense with foliage. If only Lhuna had been able to make her brother's killer bleed, blood was a lot easier to track than nothing and sometimes told more than what footprints had to offer. She decided that she might as well go left and see what there was, if anything, to see. Lhuna really didn't want to let this man get away with the murder of her brother, but what could she do when the trail ceased to exist? Can a man really disappear into thin air?

Onehundred Ninety

This is going to be a free style write-up, eyes closed:

Recognized him from the other day. He was still wearing that yellow hoodie that looked like it was five years old. No fooling. He was talking aobut how he had just come from outer space, and I remember thinking that they probalby had kicked him out because of the way he walked. He was talking about it so much taht I wonder what he would have talked about when he was in space.

Which reminds me, ...well also I don't know my astronomy well enought but is there an "inner space". If not, why's it outter spce? Wh y not just space? Is it because it's out of our atmostphere? Oh... Well I ... but then you might as well use "outter to describve everything outside of earth. "The outter sun", the ...oh hey, I gues swe do yuse "outter planets", or is that just for tv and movies?

I can't imagine life without tv, or rather I have not lived a livfe berfore television and so having grown up watching so much tv and movies, I sometimes forget if something is a fact or not. Or especially terms used in a situation I have never been in before. I can't think of another example besides space right now, but I know that sometimes I'll be talking with a friend and I'll go to bring something up but might not be sure if it was just something I saw on tv or if it was real. Or the way things are done in movies, I sometimes think "this is how life is for these people, but that might be wrong.

For example: gangs and the mob. I've been told by people that there is no such thing as the mob, such as this one girl in my high school. She was Italian and so based on her family being Italian, she said that there was no such ting as the mob and that it was just something Holywood made up. I kinda think that's as if I said that there's no such thing as... oH, no take for instance Bob and Doug McKenzie. They like to say "take off, you hoser" or "take off, eh" but I've not heard another Canadian say that, nor have I used that phrase myself, outside of knowing about Bob and Doug and thus imitating them. But htat doesn't mean that somewhere in this fast country of ours, there isn't a community or village that has used those phrazes before Bob and Doug were gcreated.

I can't tink of anything else right now, but I sure didn't like the weather today. I would rather there hadn't been any wind so that it would have made walking downtown better, but I guess to some degree (no pun intended) the weather will always abe a little chillier downtown than not downtown. Or at least that's the way it is here in Canada. I know some of oyou americans and Mexicans might be all ":oh but it's always warm here in (enter city here) and especially in downtown, you have to dreass for a hot day if you're going downtown. Besides, if not for the wather you're drinking coffee becausea there's a starbucks on every corner and you have to support the starbucks. What would htey do without their installment of cash dollars without... oh wiat, I just used without again. I think.

Okay anyway, I think this is a long enough lbog and I'm not going to even open my eyes because it's probalby really bad. Seeing as though I'm rwitting this without spell check and it's later than I usually stay up to write a blog so I'm not going to be as competent and I might normally be. Exsample of using "without" twoice. and I think that 'o' in "twisce". Oh man, di dI just put an... 's'? in ... well I forget what word that woudl have been. So all this is to say you shouldn't let me blog free style. But I did just incase someone found it attractive. lAdies?

Onehundred Eightynine

He opened the door... a little too blatantly than intended, but alas it was too late. Besides, it was spring time, shouldn't one be allowed to be a little bit blatant? And it's not like there was anyone up this early in the morning either, let alone that anyone would even watch how he would open the door. It's not like there were any sort of judges about, seeing how each individual opened the door, let alone first thing in the morning.

Feeling confident about it all he quickly grabbed the paper from the front step (that little bugger of a paper carrier couldn't be bothered to get the paper in the bloody mailbox, again this week!), closed the door quietly and with a touch of precaution to any sort of asymmetrical behavior, just in case.

He had just set the paper on the living room table and was about to check in on the coffee when there was a knock at the door. He looked at his watch, which had been broken since he'd received it from his grandfather, so then he looked to the clock on the wall and saw it had run out of battery power at 2:17am. There was a second knock at the door and since he couldn't find out what the time was he decided that it was still going to be too early for visitors... but perhaps they had seen him grab the paper, but if it was Charleston asking to borrow whatever it was in his shed that he hadn't already borrowed and not returned... which might just be the very thing Charleston was after, probably the weed wacker, even though it was the middle of winter but since when did that ever bother Charleston? I suppo- With the third time knocking the knock was also followed by a man's voice calling: "Look, I saw what you did and if you wanted it to become public knowledge that you-"

The door quickly opened and he said "Okay, okay. Just shush about that and tell me what this is all about." The man had a neatly trimmed mustache, much like the one his father used to have until he moved out to the mountains a grew a beard, as if that was the thing to do. Just because one is out in the mountains doesn't mean one automatically has to adorn a beard, but try telling that to his father. That's when he realized the man had been speaking to him and should now be paying attention.

"... -und it to be a little.. well what's the word? Ah! Yes, I thought it was just a little bit blatant and you should know that we in the community will not stand for such behavior, even just a little bit. We have a zero tolerance about that sort of thing. What would people think if we let members of our community open their doors in any manor that they wished? If we allowed that, well who knows what else it would lead up to?! First doors, then maybe the windows! Oh! Could you imagine such a community with windows open in any sort of embryonic fashion? What an embarrassment! Surely this isn't the sort of behavior you want to support? My world, man! Think of the children!

"And don't you think, even for a moment, that this sort of lifestyle would keep within the community (perish the thought of it even getting that far) but that this sort of behavior would spread! From this community to the next, from this side of the city to the next! Oh my! What horror to think of it even having the chance of becoming a city wide epidemic! People of all sorts opening their doors, and not just a little but perhaps with much blatant emphasis! Oh, perish the thought! But these sorts of things can happen you know. And do you know why? It all starts so innocently that one would concid-"

"Um, excuse me. I don't think I quite caught your name the first time. Where did you say you were from? Whom do you represent?" he asked, rather politely.

Onehundred Eightyeight

Here's an alternative ending to yesterday's blog:

"Should you come across and angry man,

Please do try what you can,

To wish him bliss and happiness,

But do not talk of the botanist."

So for today I decided, on this Family Day, that I would think about the meaning of family, it's purpose. And here's what I concluded, it's a good thing. Yes, this is just a lead into Martha Stuart. Okay, it was an acident but when I was flicking between the channels I saw that Martha had Emeril Lagasse on her show. I would have thought he was better than that. It's not like his show isn't on the air anymore... Oh, maybe he's dying and perhaps one of the items on that list is to do a good deed for a convicted fellon. Well that's good of Emeril, thinking of those bad peoples. I suppose they deserve happiness... just because they're human.

No, I don't like Martha and probably never will, and not just because of her criminalism. I suppose I have to give her credit for that catch phrase "I'm not a crook" Oh wait... that was Nixon.

Today it snowed all day. Not much of a heavy snow, just a light snow. I suppose all the acumilated snow could have added up to a 10 minute heavy snow... none-the-less it is still the most snow we've seen for a while. I'll be creative tomorrow.

WOTD:

Kiln - (n) a heated enclosure (as an oven) for processing substance by burning, firing, or drying

Haiku:

Flight of the Conchords

Fight inner city pressure

Off to Wispy Woods.

Onehundred Eightyseven

Seeping out the window at the first floor of the apartment,
bringing the slight stench of mildew and a touch of honey mustard.
Always there, night and day, I simply can't sustain it;
For in this home there lives a gnome who loves to show much love to his begonias.
Watering them at noontime, watering them at night;
Watering them in the morn before he takes a bite.
He does oh so love those flowers, he loves them by the hours.
His mood does make me sour, I just can't express my dour.
Why must he be forever watering those begonias?
Doesn't he know they'll be just fine, if only he'd sit to sip his wine.
Let them be, you simple oaf! Take the time to bake a loaf.
Always he waters them, I'm stunned why they've not drowned.
He'll rot the building from the bottom up, if the water does not cease.
Alas I know not how, but I must convince him now;
To stop this incessant watering,
Before I start a'clobbering.
My wit is at its end, and now I'm forced to rend,
That little man out from his place.
But ho! What's this? What is that I hear?
A little voice, sweet and soft, raps gently in my ear.
"Do not harm him, mister please! For if you do you will regret,
That we have ever met."
"Who's there?!" I cry, but this is all for naught,
No one answers to my call.
"What now?" Says I, "what is it that I'm to do?"
Do I listen to that sweet small voice,
Or do I obey that other choice?
The decision lies within my hands,
What to do with that little man?
Watching that blissful botanist,
I will simply shake my fist.
But man he sure makes me-
Decision already made,
I feel myself get on my way,
And as I leave I hear him say:
"Ta, tee tee, ta, tiddley doo,
I am only half way through.
Watch me dance and watch me play,
I will see another day.
Me and all me begonia,
Have drank too much,
Far too much of that Misty Bellara."

Onehundred Eightysix

Should I make something up? I think I'll make something up.

The year was 1978 and on his way home from school one day, little Scotty Johnson found a blue comb. It wasn't an ordinary blue comb either, it was special. Scotty knew it was special from the moment he saw it and swore on the grave of Tex Ritter that he'd never let it out of his sight. Even though Scotty was only eight years old... well he would say eight and a half, but even though he was only eight and a half years old, you could be sure that when he invoked the name of Tex Ritter, his favorite cowboy hero, Scotty was bound to whatever passed his lips.

The day had started out ordinary enough: he got up, got dressed, ate his breakfast, kissed his mama on the cheek on the way out the door even though she was going on about something or other, he got on the bus and sat next to Tommy Gerts, proceeding to talk about who would win in a fight this person or that person, until they got to school then it was time for class with Mrs. Whutherson. Class was normal, recess was mostly normal with the exception of not getting into trouble for throwing rocks... maybe that was it! He didn't cause any trouble during recess and now he found this special blue comb.

The comb was a little beat up, but nothing too bad as you would notice right away or that a little cleaning up wouldn't fix. So then, with his new found treasure and the will to behave in recess from then on out, little Scotty Johnson was on his way home, whistling a tune. It was a song Tex Ritter would often play: 'High Noon', a favorite of Scotty's. When he got home he raced to his bedroom, before anyone could see his prize, and only when the door was shut did he dare take it out of his pocket. He placed the comb on his bed, took out his shoe polish rag from the box beside his dresser, and gave the comb a polish.

When the comb looked near good as new as he could get it, Scotty put the comb back down on his bed, got the chair from his desk and brought it to his closet, got up on the chair and reached to the back of the shelf to retrieve his treasure box. Carefully holding the box, Scotty got down from the chair and placed the box on his bed. Gently removing the lid, Scotty looked inside. There were his baseball and hockey cards in nice, neat, separate stacks, a few shiny bottle caps and that old harmonica his grandfather had given him for his birthday, just six months before.

Scotty picked up the comb, gave it one last look of satisfaction, and gently laid it in the box. He put the lid back on the box, took the box back to the chair, got on the chair and carefully put the box back on the shelf where it belonged.

Onehundred Eightyfive

And then he starts talking like he's got me beat, but I said "You're missing one thing: there's no way Christopher Plummer would fall for that." After thinking it through he said I was right, and that was the end of that.

It's not me, it's you. No I'm not talking about the song by Prozzak, or about the album by Lily Allen, I'm talking about relationships in driving.

As a pedestrian, there have been times where I have been all about "Get out of my way cars, can't you see I'm walking here?" But then when I'm in the car I think "Get out of the way pedestrian, can't you see I'm driving here?" (Well not that I'm driving but the fact remains) And to the bigger vehicles I think: "Okay, just because you're a truck, doesn't mean you're king of the road." But then if I were driving a truck I'd be all "Get out of my way everybody, I'm driving a truck here! You're all too slow and tiny!"

It's always someone else's fault. Yup.

WOTD:

Chaffinch - (n) a common European finch with a cheerful song

Haiku:

Singing in meadow

Trip over fallen tree branch

Sudden lack of joy.

Onehundred Eightyfour

What if, one day, the internet disappeared? You flick on your computer, and whatever program you might have that would automatically start up (msn for example) didn't. You might assume there was a problem with the connection, so then either you try everything on your end to fix the problem or you phone your internet provider. It's only then that you'd realize that you're not the only one. Not because a representative or a tech person told you, but because the phone line is busy.

At most you think the connection is out for the block or neighborhood or whatever, but you wouldn't think it's a worldwide problem. You probably wouldn't think it's a nationwide problem, or even just a citywide problem. But it is. It is worldwide and no hacker in the 'verse can do a thing about it. Do you think that would create a problem? Yeah, more than a few.

Did you know that just over half of North Americans rely on the internet for work, for their career? That is a multimillion person problem. Worldwide I'd say it's a problem for at least two, maybe three billion people. That's crazy big.

So next time you go to read your e-mail, just remember to stop taking the internet for granted. Do you even remember what life was like before the internet? On February 20th, show the internet how much you appreciate it. Join the festivities, today.

Onehundred Eightythree

Yup, I had my first tooth pulled today. It was my top right wisdom tooth. Just when I thought I could keep 'em all, they had to pull it. How lovely. It was even planned to be steak night tonight but that'll have to wait until another day, Charlie Brown. Sigh.

In other news, I was watching Wheel of Fortune today and this week they're back in Hawaii. You know Hawaii, that small islanded state. That wee bit 'o the USA out in the ocean. Guess what kind of destination was given as a prize, for these lovely people from Hawaii, the good people at Wheel of Fortune decided it would be nice to send a lovely Hawaiian couple, to the Caribbean. "Oh good honey, we get to leave our island paradise for another island paradise! 'Cause we sure wouldn't want to go some where that wasn't an island paradise! How incredibly thoughtful of Wheel of Fortune!" Man, what a load of bullocks. Hee hee, cause I'm so British!

Yes, the couple did seem happy about it, but I'm sure they were just excited to be going some place that it hadn't quite sunken in where they were going at the time. No, I'm sure they'd appreciate the treatment they'd receive and all that, but I just think that if I were in their position... well you know how I'd feel. At least there was a couple that won a trip to Alaska (they were from Hawaii as well). I'm just saying Wheel of Fortune could have thought that through a little better.

There's my rant for today. Here now is the WOTD:

Transaxle - (n) a unit combining the transmission and the front axle of a front-wheel-drive automobile

My Trans Am has a problem with it's transaxle, which I found out on my way to make a transaction.

Haiku:

Dreaming of a steak

Perfectly marinated

Cooked the way I like.

Onehundred Eightytwo

The human body is a complex thing.

That isn't entirely what this blog is about though. I'm more writing about the changes a body can under-go and that I don't like all of them. The one change I do like is the maturity my taste buds develop.

There are things in this world that my tongue didn't appreciate when I was a kid, but it has come to greatly enjoy now. One example of this is sushi. Before, it was all complainy and also my mind was freaked out about raw fish, but now I'm like, why couldn't I have come to like this sooner? Not that it's too late for me now... I think it's more that I'd like to have been enjoying sushi for a longer period of my life.

I can't really remember, but I don't think I've come across a sushi I didn't like, yet. I'm afraid to add that "yet" but I doubt I've tasted a tenth of the sushi out there, so it's not like I can completely say that I like all sushi.

Also I really like the development of my ears. Before there were only certain types of music I would go for, but now I've got quite a pastiche of genre's under my musical belt. It's not just that I have this wonderful pastiche, it's that my tastes have become broadened but also refined. I'm more able to pick out bad music and stay away from it.

This is not to say that I'm fair to all genre's... but then also that is not to say that all genre's deserve fairness. I try not to dismiss or accept a band because of their genre, but it still happens. Just not nearly as much as before.

WOTD:

Forsythia - (n) any of a genus of shrubs related to the olive and having yellow bell-shaped flowers appearing before the leaves in early spring

Haiku:

Vanilla swirl

My Coke sings with great delight

Bring her back to me!

Onehundred Eightyone

There's something of a satisfaction in skateboarding.

I can't remember a time when I didn't like the feel of a skateboard in my hands. The design of the board, the sound of a skateboard going down a sidewalk, the freedom of the ride, the logos, and of course the amazing tricks and stunts people can pull with a skateboard, are just a few reasons why I love it.

I also love the design of a good skate park. It's just screaming "Come skate, listen to your punk rock and hang out! Enjoy a slurpee on a nice hot day whilst you skate the afternoon away." Yeah, it's a little bit of alright. I think the best is when you take along a camera, like ...especially a Polaroid and you're taking pictures of tricks and your friends and there's some good music playing, and everyone's enjoying a slurpee, the sun's shining on your back and there are no problems to bother you.

I don't know if there's an actual smell to a skate park... but if there were I'd say it'd be wood, blood, and sweat. And probably some metal. All the good manly smells. Good times.

Onehundred Eighty

The Irish Council Bill

Is it this you call Home Rule?

Says the Shan Van Vocht.

Do you take me for a fool?

Says the Shan Van Vocht.

To be sending round the hat.

Five-and-twenty years for that

Isn't good enough for Pat,

Says the Shan Van Vocht.

And the Lord-Lieutenant too,

Says the Shan Van Vocht,

Is he still to be on view?

Says the Shan Van Vocht.

And all them big police,

Monumentally obese,

Must I go on feeding these?

Says the Shan Van Vocht?

Susan Mitchell (1907)

Onehundred Seventynine

I used to think that if I were the lead singer in a band, I'd want it to be a heavy metal band or maybe a punk band, but either way, the whole time I was on tour, in a way of illustrating what my songs might be about, I'd spend the concert in a box. Just some cardboard box just big enough for me to sit cross-legged under. Yeah, I wouldn't be just in the box, I'd be inside it, so you can't see me. And I'd be sitting there screaming the lyrics.

Now I wonder if it was some kind of subconscious thing and what kind of message that means for myself (as a guy not the lead singer for a band). Like how you might interpret a dream. At the time I thought it would be a fun little gig. And I'd make sure there were holes in the box, cause I know you'd get pretty hot in there... but it would be a sacrifice I'd make because of the point I'd be trying to get across. I'm not too sure what that point would be, but that's because I'm not-in-a-band Dave. In-a-band Dave would have it all planned out and understood.

Also I think it would make for a cool opening to a show. This box just gets set on the stage before the rest of the band comes out, and you're all like "What's with the box?". It would be really sweet if I could be there in the box before anything, like even when the opening bands are playing, that would be wicked sweet! Just like... have a oxygen canister I could use and um, make sure I had water and didn't have to use the washroom. But like, there's just this box on stage and nobody in the other bands are using it, the stage crew isn't moving it... but you know that my band is going to use it for some reason because of the lyrics to my songs... but how am I going to use the box? Is there anything inside? Man, what do you do? Probably throw something at it. Hope it's not a brick.

And then my band comes on, they start playing the first song and everyone in the crowd is waiting until I come out and then I start singing and you're in the crowd looking around for where I might be, oh because the box isn't where I'd stand as lead singer, it's more off to the side. I don't know how that might go over, but that would be sweet for that first couple of shows. Man, in-a-band Dave is crazy. He's going to be sore afterwords because the box is still there when everyone leaves and the lights get taken down, so then your band's personal crew guy comes in with the dolly and takes the box out to the tour bus and that's when I get out. Tee hee.

WOTD:

Cynosure - (n) a center of attraction

Haiku:

Breath into the clay

Watch it grow into a jar

Fill it with your love.

Onehundred Seventyeight

And now to answer some of my dear viewer's letters.

Timmy from Sandfried, Ohio writes: "Dave, I can't imagine how you come up with these wacky and outrageous blogs, and I love your poetry! Could you tell the step-by-step process you go through to deliver such creative writing gold?"

No.

Dan from Gainsburry, Ontario writes: "Dave, I've been having some troubles with my girlfriend. She wants me to write her some poetry, but I'm terrible with words. I was wondering if I could borrow something from you, since you're so good at it but not too good so that she would catch on. Helplessly in love, Dan."

Will you pay me?

Angelica from Little Lake, Saskatchewan writes: "Hi Dave. I'm a long time reader first time writer and I've just got to say that blog 64 made me realize the value in the little things in life. I know that one is a while ago but it's one of my many favorites. Thanks for sharing."

Thanks for writing, sugarbob.

Geoff from Winterville, Manitoba writes: "It's good to hear a creative voice in the prairies on this blog. I thought I was the only one, and not too many people read my blog either. Maybe we should band together and start a 'Bloggin' in the Prairies' club. What do you say?"

I uh... I kinda feel that's a bit too cheesy for myself, but I suppose if you were to provide sandwiches, I'd support anything.

The last letter for today is from Leila in Canburg, Alberta: "Hey Dave, have you ever thought of writing children's books? I think you'd do a great job and the kids would love your poetry and art work. Or maybe you could give me a few pointers on how to do my own book? Thanks."

I have thought of such a book but whenever that comes to mind I remind myself at how much goes unnoticed by kids (in poetry) and I think I'd rather write a book meant for a creative writing class.

Well that's all we have for today folks. Until next time, give your fingers and brain a workout and write up a short little story or poem. Get those brain juices flowing.

Haiku:

Lost in wheat field

Its smell consuming my mind

Appreciate bread.

Onehundred Seventyseven

Ouch.

That was the first thought (basically) when I came back into consciousness. I was on my side and I couldn't remember how I got there or why I was in pain. Felt like a couch. I was on my side on a couch. I wanted to open my eyes but thought that I wouldn't like what I would see. Somehow I felt it wouldn't be that great a scene, as if I was in an action movie and I would open my eyes only to see my fiancee gaged and bound to a chair. But then... wouldn't I hear that? Unless he was unconscious as well, I suppose. Kinda like MI: III but roles reversed.

Curiosity took over (especially since there's no fiancee in my life) and the first thing I saw was lipstick smeared onto a plain white coffee mug. Huh. It was resting on a coaster, one of those cork coasters from the '80's. There was a glass-topped coffee table underneath that, not the length of the couch. But my head wasn't some how in the middle of the couch was it? Who would design the room that way? You don't put a short coffee table in the front of one end of a couch, you'd put it in the middle.

Okay so the rest of the room- ah! It hurt to move my head. Like someone had hit me in the head with a baseball bat. Although I suppose it could have been a hockey stick or golf club or the leg of a desk... I don't know why the image of a baseball bat came to mind first. I suppose that's the first thing you think about when someone bashes you over the head, that they used a baseball bat.

I wasn't bound or gaged, so why did it hurt to move my head? Why couldn't I remember anything? I should make a phone call... only this wasn't my apartment, so where was I? There was that question to answer first. I was wearing my blue Superman t-shirt as well as my favorite pair of jeans, so it must have been Thursday because that's what I wear when I know I'll see that cute guy down at the food court. I know he likes comic books and also I saw him with that black Superman t-shirt that one time, no it was twice!

Oh right, where am I? The ...house? looked neatly kept, smelled neatly kept, and owned by someone who either found television useless or didn't keep one in the living room. Oh, there must be a girl living here right, cause of the lipstick. Right! Uh... had I been drinking with some of the girls? No because it didn't really feel like a hangover.. it felt more like being bashed over the head with a baseball bat (okay so the difference wasn't much but I also didn't taste alcohol in my mouth). And I didn't taste blood either. I felt the back of my head and there wasn't a bump.

Right then there was a voice, a soft male voice, as though he was trying to be soothing. He said "It's good to see you're finally awake". I looked around to see where the voice might be coming from, but saw no one. Oh! There was a video camera in the ceiling corner on my right. And there's the door. "Yes, you can go if you'd like but I would advice on hearing what I've got to say first." This time he sounded a little more instructive.

"Where am I? Have you kidnapped me?" I asked, my voice a little groggy. "It's not like my family has a lot of money or anythin-"

"Oh no, it's nothing like that". His voice a little softer, "Don't you remember?" he asked. "No, I don't... remember what? Is this some kind of prank, because if it is... you better show your face, you're starting to freak me out a bit here..." My hands started to sweat, I looked to the door... would they be waiting for me on the other side or could I just leave? He said to listen to him, not that he was talking right now... "You had something to tell me before I left?" I asked, trying to sound like I wasn't too worried or anxious. I didn't want to set anyone off, if that was a possibility.

Onehundred Seventysix

Ever wanted to try something different? Do something you've never done before? I'm sure there might be a list forming, or perhaps there has been one forming for years and you're slowly picking away at that list. Or what about acting in a different manor or having different behavior or talking a different way? It could even be as simple as wearing different clothes or combing your hair different. Or maybe you want to listen to different kinds of music.

Whatever there may be in your life, is there something holding you back? Are you waiting for the right time in your life? Do you think such a prospect needs to wait until you're in your 40's? Perhaps you're afraid of what others may say or think. Or maybe there's been someone in your life that changed this, that, or the other about their life and the people around them reacted poorly and so that's dissuaded you from causing changes in your own life. It could be that the thing holding you back is that you can't think of anything original enough. You want to do something that no one has thought of before, but history is so varied that it's hard to come up with something. Or maybe you've come up with something but it's so extreme to you that you don't think you could pull it off. Or maybe you think you wouldn't do the idea justice that you just don't act upon it. You would like nothing more to see this act come to fruition... but just not through yourself.

Maybe it's time for you to step out of your comfort zone, to get away from your fears of what people may think, or to just pick an idea and try it on for size. Does it really have to be completely original? History does repeat itself, so it's not like anyone wouldn't blame you, and besides, if the idea is "fresh" enough, it doesn't really matter if someone in the past did it before, in fact it would be a tribute and people would love you for it. Probably.

It could be that you're thinking that everyone seems to go through so many changes these days that you don't want to be another "change around Sam". You're perfectly okay with how you are and besides change only leads to catastrophe.

For myself, I think I'm one of those who says they like themselves just the way they are. Not that I'm opposed to change and in fact I've made changes in my life... they might not be profound but they're enough to keep me going. Or maybe I've tried changing and it's only turned out for the not so awesome and so I've left change well enough alone. What I do know is that I admire what Andy Kaufman tried to do, and did do, for comedy and general show business.

Okay, WOTD:

Cetacean - (n) any of an order of aquatic mostly marine mammals that includes whales, porpoises, dolphins, and related forms

Haiku:

Rose petals falling

Blown to and fro on the wind

Reach out to catch it.