10.31.2005

satisfaction

despite...

... feeling thirsty all day...
... being called obstinate...
... feeling like a complainer with a bad attitude...
... being confronted with my issues with authority...
... wondering why, why, why am i like this...
... feeling tired and not sleeping enough...
... having cold feet and questioning oh so many choices...
... being yelled at by teenagers and feeling fearful of being hit by errant firecrackers...
... ordering pizza for dinner...
... wanting what I do not have and having what I do not want...
... losing a battle with the cd burner...
... being forced to remember again and again...
... choosing not to call again and again...
... losing the necessary phone number...
... wishing on a falling star that turned out to be plane headed elsewhere...
... feeling trapped in the basement and like i was abandoning my babies...
... smelling the onion-ey tang of the Scared Sweat emanating from my air-pits...
... choosing to say air-pits instead of arm-pits...
... realizing that i was sitting in for two men at opposite sides of the cycle of life and death...
... not eating enough vegetables...
... not having my dishes done...
... wanting to drink and smoke and do drugs all day long......

despite all this I got a lot done today and feel generally good, if just a tad dehydrated.

10.30.2005

the mess


the mess
Originally uploaded by Chonky.

so much done today. that extra hour sure payed off.

paper? done
bills? done
laundry? done
furniture? ummm, well, almost done.
dinner? DONE

My downstairs neighbour Steve came up at 6:30 complaining about all the noise I was making.

Steve: It's like being in a drum down there... you've been at it all day...
Me: Are you asking me to be quiet?
Steve: And when you walk around in those hard shoes.
(we both look down and gaze at my birkenstock slippers)
Me: Well, I'll do my best to be quiet, but I'm trying to get this done before it gets too late.
Steve: uh, ok.

It's the passive aggression that gets to me. I can spot pass-agg a mile away. I'm an expert at doing it, so seeing it is easy as pie. I would much rather that someone come up and state clearly what they want rather than stand at my door like a pimpled paperboy requesting to be paid for work he (maybe) didn't do.

Anyhow, I'm going to annoy them right now because there's still some stuff I have to do before I can sleep on my bed. Tough luck.

my paper: FIRST DRAFT COMPLETE

Your Turn: playing board games on the radio

Canadians are hungry for the interactive experience. No longer satisfied with passively watching characters and situations develop onstage, in movies or on TV, we demand participation. We dial in by the millions to vote for idols, idiots and fifty tracks. We yell out suggestions from the crowd. We watch for tongue-in-cheek references to current events. Anything that can connect our quotidian lives with the performance presented by the media. Yet theatre – the art form that has the potential to be most interactive, the medium that draws audience and performers together into a shared experience – is suffering from falling attendance and stagnant imaginations. It just isn’t fun anymore.

As a freelance theatre maker, I have recently extended my practice into radio in an attempt to cultivate interactivity and fun over the airwaves. Seeking an immediate interface with the audience and a shared, real-time experience, I founded North by Northwest Games Day with host and producer Sheryl Mackay. North by Northwest is aired across British Columbia from 6:00 – 9:00 a.m. Saturday and Sunday mornings on CBC Radio One. Using the familiar medium of board games, Sheryl and I created an interactive site for play that reaches out across the province. On Games Day, listeners call in to play games like Scrabble and Password, jamming the switchboards and connecting across kilometers.

In this paper I will discuss the inspiration for Games Day, the technical mechanics of playing both games, the strengths and weakness of each event and plans for the future of the endeavor.

(continued in COMMENTS section)

the continuing saga of a quack who's gone to the dogs

Dammit! Will the spam never end? Stop trying to sell me things! I have enough things as it is.

And for the record, Baby Diaper Cakes (which sounds like a character in a John Hughes film) is also definitely spam. Upon the advice of a friend I googled one of the phrases and there were 37 hits...

And then today some kind of home business computer site.

apology retracted. vehemence renewed.

I've lost the ability to sleep in. At least today I made it to 9:30 (yesterday I woke at 8:30). Factor in no alarm and staying up extra late watching chat line ads on TV and you may understand my resentfulness. From the inside I feel like a Jim Henson creation: fuzzy and bug-eyed. And I think I forgot to brush my teeth before hitting the Sleep Machine. In fact, I'm sure. Is this one of the small disappointments that getting older holds? I mean the lack of sleeping in, not the forgetting to brush your teeth -- although I guess that, too, could be a symptom of age. Running out of teeth to brush?

And I wake up in the middle of the night. Tonight's nightmare had me in some kind of warehouse: abandoned and dark. The first waking was fairly gentle -- another Argument Dream where the power of my intellect and the passion of the debate rouse me. But the discussion being set in a warehouse did nothing for my waking mind, as I tried to settle myself down again my conscious mind invented Bad Guys and Danger to return to. A stern talking to and visualizing my Safe Place (is there such a thing) took care of that problem.

AND I just realized that today is freeeekin' daylight savings day, so I STILL got up at 8:30.

A sizable list of things to do today. Finish the paper. Pay some bills. Laundry. Move furniture around. Put up blinds. Go for dinner. I should call my Mom, it's been ages...

10.29.2005

maybe...

ok, i went to the diaper shower cake site. the offer something different than I had expected, but which makes sense now that I think about it: cake-shaped arrangements with flowers, ribbons and stuffed animals. perhaps not such a bad idea for those who are having a baby. a good gift...

and maiko looked at the post and said, "I think this is a real person."

I'm thinking that there's the possibility that whoever runs the diaper site is legit and that my condescending dismissal of his/her comments was hasty and even a little cruel -- in that sarcastic kind of way.

so i apologize. I flew off the handle and didn't take a compliment well at all...

sorry.

sad iPod


sad iPod
Originally uploaded by Chonky.

i think my iPod is broken...
it's only a crisis if you make it a crisis, right?
RIGHT?

I'm making this a FUCKING crisis!!!

10.28.2005

clearly

Anonymous said...
Another great blog man! What a 4 you are! I couldn't derive half the fantastic ideas that you come up with.
My baby shower diaper cakes site is a little off your topic but noteworthy. Why aren't you in advertising or better yet a "think tank". Can you teach this kind of creative thinking? Is it something you were born with? Keep the fabulous ideas coming! Let's say a prayer for our boys in Iraq and hope for the best.

11:13 PM


Clearly this guy is fucking with me. Clearly this is not a real person. Clearly this is some computer generated, ego-stroking device created to slip you the suggestion that you just might need to visit a site about diapers. what gives it away. hmmmm. is it the effusive compliments? maybe the suggestion that my self-indulgent musings would benefit an advertising agency or a "think tank." just imagine that that would be like:

a: we have to come up with a new idea TODAY.
b: i don't know... i just don't feel loved or valued...
c: i'd much rather slit my wrists, but i won't actually say it, instead i'll make up grand imagery.
a: come on you guys!
b: yeah, but what do you think of my hair.

"can you teach this kind of creative thinking?" COME ON!

but really, its the "boys in Iraq bit" that really pushes me over the edge.

If this is a real person, send another comment and prove it. otherwise i will go to my grave convinced you are trying to sell me diapers.

reporting in

well, the hair got me through a lot of the day... but not the whole thing. i'd say it got me as far as 7pm, after that I was on my own and, frankly, I didn't do so well. maybe it was the wontons. or the pervasive sense of humiliation. ah, if only i cared less for my dignity, the places I could go!

i remain buoyed by my friends. without them i would sink and dissolve like a cube of sugar in hot coffee, fearful of the inevitable stir stick. and the small successes: feeling competant, finishing a task, getting up in the morning, making dinner, doing the dishes.

fright night at the pne offered some solace: a safe venue to scream as strange men dressed in black whispered "don't go this way" and smacked the walls with plastic knives. and the swings (among my favourites) offering a brief sense of flight and freedom, lifted above the vagaries of everyday to the perfect soundtrack of acdc's thunderstruck. and finally "hell's gate" (a place I fear because I worry about the salmon) with its rotations and too tight safety harnesses. but i did enjoy being out of control, thrillingly tossed around, yet safe in the knowledge that it can only last so long and there's no slipping out of the restraints.

i wake up in the middle of the night in mid-conversation. my dreams are not fantasies, but arguments. i dream of slicing through the skin of everyday pleasantries. release the blood. let the lassitude flow. i look at my hands, my wrists, my belly, my hair: nothing seems familiar. the mirror reveals a face I remember, but is unrecognizable as me.

marcus told me that nicotine impairs the seratonin uptake in your brain. which would explain why nothing feels good right now. at least while i was screaming my guts out in the "what lurks in the dark house of sheer terror" i didn't feel the numb.

ah, the numb. i had forgotten about that! that's why i want to drink and make out with boys and scream and cry and exhaust myself -- all so that i won't have to feel the numb. or not feel the numb. or whatever.

good hair day


good hair day
Originally uploaded by Chonky.

OK people: i woke up this morning and my hair looked great. I mean, GREAT. And when you wake up and your hair looks this good first thing, you have to wonder: is this is a sign that things are going to go your way all day? Or is this as good as it gets and you might as well cut your losses and head back to bed?

I'll let you know.

10.27.2005

duck's back

underwater everthing looks blurry.

i remember the first time i used swimming goggles: in the splash pool at Lindsay Park Pool in Calgary (now the Talisman Centre, oh Calgary, you're so good at selling yourself...)

Placing my face in the water, the bottom of the pool was clearly visible, if tinged with a blueish hue. Despite knowing better, despite feeling the water lapping against my face, despite standing chest deep in chlorinated water with the echoey sounds of a swimming pool reverberating around me, despite all this some reptilian part of my brain was convinced that i was looking through air, not water. so I breathed in. through my nose.

so the question is: why do we do stupid things when we obviously know better?

Must we finally surrender to the idea that there are some situations and people upon whom we will never make an impression, regardless of how hard we try? Instead, must we allow our energy to flow, like water, off?

10.25.2005

argh

oh today, you torturer, holding me captive in the moment of now. i would much prefer to be safely coccooned in 'then' or floating softly in what could be. instead i'm tethered to this very right now moment, forced to watch the minutes crawl by, organizing my time by the songs playing on the radio, wishing for the ease of 'never' or 'forever' or at the very least 'whenever.'

get me out of here before i lose it. once lost, i fear, it will never be found again. what is this 'it'? that thin membrane that sits in front of my eyes; invisible but invaluable, it is necessary to stop the secret parts of me from leaking out, to keep my messy inchoate energy from contaminating every person i come in touch with -- those I love and those I don't. no one deserves to feel this way.

i am relieved to be alone right now. i stare at the computer screen, at the tiny progress of characters advancing across the white, wrapping around. they are the accumulation of my time. they are what my time amounts to. oh, and those power bills too. they prove i was here.

i just want to cry. cry and cry and cry. sail me away on a river of tears and get me the hell out of here.

10.23.2005

updates

It's been so long that I had to re-log in. Where has all the time gone?

I love fall. The leaves turning, piling in the gutters, getting soaked with rain and rotting into a soggy mess. Reminds me of eating my Shreddies too slowly as a kid and the mush that would reward me at the bottom of the bowl. I still hate cereal to this day. But I don't hate Fall. Fall feels more like beginning to me than Spring does. Spring promises the warmth and good times of summer, but Fall offers other possibilities. Like staying home on a rainy night, getting cozy in front of the computer, longer nights, shorter days. This last is good for the likes of me who don't feel the rhythm of creation until the sun has long set.

I went to my friend's first birtday party today. She speaks through baby sign language, facial expressions and the odd squawk. There were many other children there, all under the age of five, as well as some women well on the path of gestation -- bellies brimming with promise. Made me feel a little hopeless about finding room in my life for a little one. The importance of children has faded over time. Three years ago it was overwhelming, now, the yearning is for security. That or change. Massive change. City moving change. I imagine the earthquake hitting Vancouver and feel the familiar flutter of anxiety. Will people turn to animals as they have been portrayed in other disasters? And the biggest question of all: will I survive? This is of monumental importance because while I feel content with the life I am living I feel there is still so much more to come. So much more to do. Yet I feel so little energy to do it.

I suppose that's why taking care of the loose ends from day to day is so important. Eating. SLEEPING. Preparing for the next day's adventures.

So this is a value for this week. Just one week. Can I sleep? Be in bed by, what, eleven? What would that do? Let's see.

10.16.2005

if its not one thing

i managed to clean my kitchen. spic and span. fantastic. top to bottom. cupboards. top of fridge. ok, i didn't get to the floor, but I cleared out a bunch of junk. threw out old spices. took out the recycling.

but what didn't I do. or rather, what did I leave until the last minute. my writing. my work. oh, there's so much to do!

i wish i had some deep thoughts tonight. aside from figuring out that its people who bring out what's best or worst in me. when i'm alone it all feels so neutral, like i could move in any direction. but the people are what move me. challenge me. inspire me. enrage me. sadden me. cheer me up.

i can hear the trains against the tracks. squealing. i love the sound of trains at night. especially those nights when its quiet enough to hear them. usually that means that its not raining. the streets have to be dry for me to hear the trains.

my plants are dying.

i want to rearrange my furniture.

good night

oops

i think i may have spoken of that which i stated we shall never speak of again.
my apologies. i'll try to keep that in check.

yum-itai

tonight itai made squash soup and what he calls "garlic soup" and invited friends over for a "monster potluck." i felt nervous for a bunch of the time. weighed down by the creamy soups in my belly and bolstered by gin. a strange opposing tension. and the people. the people always make for the final mix. who is there and how that adds spice to the experience. makes my heart race. and my stomach heavy.

tonight i am brushing my teeth and washing my face and going to bed. well, first i made myself a new playlist: friend mix. it's 3.2 hours long! i will fall asleep before the end of it. but each song reminds me of a friend. some friends get more than one.

all in all, i am a lucky lucky girl.

oh but how easy it is to get attached to having those warm arms around me at night. the comfort of another by my side. someone to turn to and talk...part of me says: let go, jump in. part of me says: watch out, danger. and another part of me says: just chill and see what happens. something inevitably will. it always does. i *could* be a manizer (is that a word?) and follow the path of those womanizers who bounce around without letting anyone in. i have met so many of these people. but unlike them, i don't have a "problem with intimacy." those are craig's words.

craig made me laugh the other day: either piss or get off the pot, he said. I think its allesandro barrico who has a character who says: very right, very true. or is it kate winterson? in any case, i imagine a dottering old aunt nodding off in a rocking chair. neither listening nor caring too, but giving enough so that her visitor will just leave her alone.

time to listen to my mix...

10.03.2005

Being Lars von Trier

its true, I have spent far too much time inside the head of lars von trier in the past couple days. and its not fun. the first foray was on friday (?) night when i saw his newest film "manderlay" -- a sequel to "dogville" and the second in his series about america. where dogville revolved around the actual generosity and compassion of a so-called generous and compassionate community, "manderlay" is about race, pure and simple. I admit to leaving the theatre -- after being assaulted with historical images of poverty, lynching and all round abuse of black people in america over the centuries, all to the tune of david bowie's young americans -- looking like a deer caught in headlights. And i felt like one too. i felt as though I had been clobbered with a point: the racism in america, the historic divide between whites and blacks serves both groups, not just one. that rules can be compassionate -- how generous it is to take on the burden of thinking and planning and bossing around, allowing The Other the luxury of following orders.

I haven't written about this film sooner because my response to it was complicated. At first I felt as though I had been condesccended to. Yes, I know, there's racism. Yes, I know, indentured slaves. Yes, I know, nothing is as it seems, Yes, I know, people, when given the freedom to, will turn justice upon their own and lose sight of compassion. Yes, I know, The Old LAdy's garden is there for a reason, so don't cut it down or you might have trouble growing cotton when the dust storm kicks up. yes, I know, American policy towards the historically marginalized (due to race, geography or perceived hardship of governing system) can be arrogant and prescriptive. Thoughtless. The dialogue was stilted too. How can I possibly believe in this?

Yet Lars never asks you to believe. His narrator is omni-present, reminding the audience again and again that we are subject to Tom (of Dogville) favourite method of pedagogy: illustration. Lars draws the set out for us. We can see through walls. He casts different actors for the same characters in the sequel. He never for a moment lets us forget that what we are watching is a cultural product.

A cultural product created by a person outside of America about America. I wonder how this film is accepted in America. Do people see it as we see it? Obviously not. I mean, they live there. We live here. But are those who will go see a Lars von Trier film in the USA already converts, as it were. Is there anything to be learned from this lesson. Is there a "and therefore we can" to accompany the "yes, I know." Or is "Manderlay" a glass through which citizens of the USA can see their culture, their history, their national obsessions (spoken and un-) reflected?

Which brings me to "Dear Wendy." (WARNING: spoiler alert. i'm going to give away the end, so if you want to see the film as if it were a hockey game, skip to the end or just come back later after you've seen it.) This film was written by von Trier but directed by Vittenberg (can't remember his first name right now, and I'm even doubting his last). This is a film about guns. About losers. About disenfranchised, marginalized youth who find power and community through weaponry. They find great knowledge. They find something akin to a religion, and defintely they found a secret society. But inevitably -- as must happen in films -- everything goes horribly, horribly wrong and EVERYBODY DIES. (don't say I didn't warn you.)

Again, the narrator. But real sets. Real people. Lots of props. The feeling of a period piece in a contemporary setting. A modern western, they say. And all I could think was: columbinecolumbinecolumbine... And a sense of absurdity. because it is absurd to think that guns will protect us by making us stronger. Weapons are for attacking, not protecting. Walls are for protecting. Holes in the sand. Special shirts made of kevlar. A high fiber diet and lots of greens. Weapons are for hurting and killing.

And again, by the end, me thinking "yes, Lars, yes, I understand, I get it, please don't kill Billy Elliot!"

All I'm saying is that its time to get out of the head of Lars von Trier. God bless Jason who said, "in Lars' America, all there is are guns and racism." And its true. Lars gives us a skewed view. And as important as it is to know who you are and what you want, it is sometimes also good to get a sense of what others think of you. So God bless Lars and his rootin' tootin' shootin' ways.

(By the by, if you want an uplifting Lars movie, look for "The 5 Obstructions" He loves, he really does. In his own condescending, dad on the rocking chair drinking far too much vodka and smoking too much way, he does love. And he will do what he can to make you love yourself, too. IF you happen to be a great filmmaker and his mentor. But inspiring nonetheless...)