Rude Awakening
At about 6:30 am today, I was shaken out of sleep by a loud banging sound and muffled yelling. I sat upright and listened. It sounded like two people having an argument, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from (from the side or from downstairs).
Then I heard a front door slam and loud voices from outside. So I threw on some pyjamas and looked out front. Jim (my landlord) was holding a guy face-down on the sidewalk, yelling at him.
I ran downstairs and cried "Jim! You okay? What the hell's going on?" Jim was in his boxer briefs and nothing else, holding the other guy down with his knee, fist raised in a punching position.
"Yeah... yeah," he sounded out of breath. "This bastard broke into my kitchen." Jim had left the back door unlocked last night by accident.
"Nah, nah man," the would-be burglar replied. "It was just a mistake. I thought this was a friend's house. Look... I'm a McGill student--" He started to get up, but Jim shoved him back to the pavement.
"You stay the fuck down, you shit," Jim snarled, turning to me. "Can you call the cops?"
My neighbour was already on the phone, calling the police. Pretty soon, the ambulance and two cop cars pulled up: the ambulance guys gave the perp a bag of ice for his swollen eye and the police cuffed him. The whole time, he professed his innocence, saying that he was just visiting his buddy and that he walked into the wrong house.
Pretty lame story, but I wasn't sure if he was really lying. He seemed to be hopped up on something, so in a stoned haze, he might have made a mistake. Still, even if I showed up at my friend's place at 6:30 am, I would knock to be let in and not just walk in.
The adrenaline was wearing off and Jim chuckled as the cops drove away. "I rushed him with a pillow in my hand. I whacked him a few times with it, then grabbed him by the thoat and pushed him outside. I tried to hold him down, but he fought me, so I had to punch him a couple of times." I remember noticing that the burglar's eye was swelling a bit.
The ambulance driver remarked, "If this had been the States, he could've charged you with assault."
"No he couldn't," I replied. "He was trespassing on Jim's property. In the States, he could be lawfully shot on sight. As it is, do you think he'd want to charge Jim with deadly pillow assault?"
I went back inside and made a mental note to make sure all the doors and windows were shut at night before we went to bed. I don't know if I would have handled the situation as well as Jim did, and it scares me.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
The Rain in Spain is mainly in the Drain
I'm sitting in my office, wondering when my computer is going to wink off due to the lightning storm raging outside, when I hear a strange sound.
The window is closed, so the sound is muffled, but it sounds like its coming from the pedestrian tunnel next to my house (the one that goes under the commuter train tracks, leading to Sherbrooke). I peer out the window, hoping I'd catch a glimpse of what was happening when I hear a "Kabong!" against the glass.
Newton (the cat) turns out to be just as curious and makes a leap up to the window, only the discover that it's still closed. He lands on the floor in a confused heap, trying to shake the ringing out of his head. Dumb cat.
Suddenly, the muffled sounds stop. I open the window and stick my head out. I notice someone walking out of the tunnel, looking back confused and slightly fearful. I know that look all too well... it's the look you see in people's eyes when they observe someone strange, unsure if they should be amused or on guard.
As soon as the person clears the tunnel, a voice erupts from within, and it's singing. Off-key, but with lots of enthusiasm. Someone is using the pedestrian tunnel as a sound chamber to warm up their pipes, but he keeps stopping every time someone else uses the tunnel.
I love living here. You just never know what the rain might bring.
I'm sitting in my office, wondering when my computer is going to wink off due to the lightning storm raging outside, when I hear a strange sound.
The window is closed, so the sound is muffled, but it sounds like its coming from the pedestrian tunnel next to my house (the one that goes under the commuter train tracks, leading to Sherbrooke). I peer out the window, hoping I'd catch a glimpse of what was happening when I hear a "Kabong!" against the glass.
Newton (the cat) turns out to be just as curious and makes a leap up to the window, only the discover that it's still closed. He lands on the floor in a confused heap, trying to shake the ringing out of his head. Dumb cat.
Suddenly, the muffled sounds stop. I open the window and stick my head out. I notice someone walking out of the tunnel, looking back confused and slightly fearful. I know that look all too well... it's the look you see in people's eyes when they observe someone strange, unsure if they should be amused or on guard.
As soon as the person clears the tunnel, a voice erupts from within, and it's singing. Off-key, but with lots of enthusiasm. Someone is using the pedestrian tunnel as a sound chamber to warm up their pipes, but he keeps stopping every time someone else uses the tunnel.
I love living here. You just never know what the rain might bring.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Sleep Entertainment
I've always known that I talk in my sleep, so whenever I hook up with a woman with whom I believe to spend long-term time in my bed, I give her this caveat:
"You CANNOT use anything I say in my sleep against me, no matter what I say."
It's a simply rule, methinks. I'm not in control of what I'm dreaming and the person lying next to me has no context for what comes out of my mouth in that state, so she's bound to misunderstand. And I'm one of those sleep-talkers that speaks very clearly and audibly, as opposed to those who mumble non-sensical things ("Mumble, brumble, Purple Broccolli, grunt, ZZZZzzzzz").
Once, a couple of years ago, a girlfriend and I went to a party hosted by a mutual friend. We had a good time and then we went back to my place. Apparently, during the night, I rolled over, held my girl tight, and whispered the party host's name in a loving sigh.
I don't even remember the dream that would've caused me to say that, but I could've stored ice cream in that bedroom in the morning, so cold was her reaction. I was not attracted to the girl to whom that name belonged in any way, but I was hard pressed to convince my girl of that. Sheesh.
But this weekend, Ms. Carotte was treated to a few disjointed episodes in the cavalcade of stars that is my mind while I'm asleep. The most memorable one sounds like a line from a Chris DeBurgh song:
"Good evening Gypsy King. Let me take your coat and here is my 35-page proposal."
I'm still waiting to hear back on the proposal. He'll get his coat back when he returns my call. Darn Gypsy King.
I've always known that I talk in my sleep, so whenever I hook up with a woman with whom I believe to spend long-term time in my bed, I give her this caveat:
"You CANNOT use anything I say in my sleep against me, no matter what I say."
It's a simply rule, methinks. I'm not in control of what I'm dreaming and the person lying next to me has no context for what comes out of my mouth in that state, so she's bound to misunderstand. And I'm one of those sleep-talkers that speaks very clearly and audibly, as opposed to those who mumble non-sensical things ("Mumble, brumble, Purple Broccolli, grunt, ZZZZzzzzz").
Once, a couple of years ago, a girlfriend and I went to a party hosted by a mutual friend. We had a good time and then we went back to my place. Apparently, during the night, I rolled over, held my girl tight, and whispered the party host's name in a loving sigh.
I don't even remember the dream that would've caused me to say that, but I could've stored ice cream in that bedroom in the morning, so cold was her reaction. I was not attracted to the girl to whom that name belonged in any way, but I was hard pressed to convince my girl of that. Sheesh.
But this weekend, Ms. Carotte was treated to a few disjointed episodes in the cavalcade of stars that is my mind while I'm asleep. The most memorable one sounds like a line from a Chris DeBurgh song:
"Good evening Gypsy King. Let me take your coat and here is my 35-page proposal."
I'm still waiting to hear back on the proposal. He'll get his coat back when he returns my call. Darn Gypsy King.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Knocking Knees Back Home
I've got my big gig tonight in Quebec city. Zimmerman and I have been invited to tell stories at the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec. The LHSQ does a monthly candle-lit evening that usually involves some kind of art form and they get anywhere from 30 to 50 people.
And yes, it will be performed in English, despite the fact that the show is in Quebec city itself, which is a bastion of French-speaking people. There is an English-speaking community in Quebec city (about 2% of the population) large enough to support six elementary schools, two high schools, and a CEGEP.
This will be a series of firsts for me.
1. I'll be telling a new story that I've written myself (a version of la Chasse Galerie that explains how my Irish family came to settle in Quebec). Yikes!
2. My parents and my sister will see me telling stories in a professional gig setting.
3. This is the first time I'll perform in my home town.
Think good thoughts for me 'round 7pm tonight!
I've got my big gig tonight in Quebec city. Zimmerman and I have been invited to tell stories at the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec. The LHSQ does a monthly candle-lit evening that usually involves some kind of art form and they get anywhere from 30 to 50 people.
And yes, it will be performed in English, despite the fact that the show is in Quebec city itself, which is a bastion of French-speaking people. There is an English-speaking community in Quebec city (about 2% of the population) large enough to support six elementary schools, two high schools, and a CEGEP.
This will be a series of firsts for me.
1. I'll be telling a new story that I've written myself (a version of la Chasse Galerie that explains how my Irish family came to settle in Quebec). Yikes!
2. My parents and my sister will see me telling stories in a professional gig setting.
3. This is the first time I'll perform in my home town.
Think good thoughts for me 'round 7pm tonight!
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!
Le ciel est bleu, la mer est grande.
Ferme ta guele pis rame.
I'm on my third week of Dragon Boating and I gotta say I'm loving it. This is my main problem with exercising in gyms: I hate going to the gym because it's so artificial. It's not an activity that I enjoy: it's a bunch of little activities that bore me to tears.
But challenging myself to a boating race, that's fun. I'm on the water in a teetery-totery boat with 20 other people and we're all working together. It's challenging, competitive, and qualifies as exercise. We practice twice a week and it really feels like a workout afterwards. We've got races in Montreal, Sherbrooke, and Ottawa, so there'll be camping too (yay!).
I seriously doubt we'll be winning any Dragon Boat cups or anything, but I've never been obsessed with first place. I'm happy to compete, do my best, and accept whatever happens after that.
This is the attitude I've developped after spending many hours in that government-enforced hazing ritual known as Gym. Only once did I get the Bronze badge, while the rest of the time I got the "Good on you for trying" pin. That doesn't mean I don't want to compete, but I'm not preoccupied with winning. I'm just there for the fun of it.
It's difficult to see the benefits in Participaction when the strongest kids are firing an over-inflated volleyball at your head in a rousing game of Eliminate the Weaker Members of the Tribe (aka Dodgeball).
Le ciel est bleu, la mer est grande.
Ferme ta guele pis rame.
I'm on my third week of Dragon Boating and I gotta say I'm loving it. This is my main problem with exercising in gyms: I hate going to the gym because it's so artificial. It's not an activity that I enjoy: it's a bunch of little activities that bore me to tears.
But challenging myself to a boating race, that's fun. I'm on the water in a teetery-totery boat with 20 other people and we're all working together. It's challenging, competitive, and qualifies as exercise. We practice twice a week and it really feels like a workout afterwards. We've got races in Montreal, Sherbrooke, and Ottawa, so there'll be camping too (yay!).
I seriously doubt we'll be winning any Dragon Boat cups or anything, but I've never been obsessed with first place. I'm happy to compete, do my best, and accept whatever happens after that.
This is the attitude I've developped after spending many hours in that government-enforced hazing ritual known as Gym. Only once did I get the Bronze badge, while the rest of the time I got the "Good on you for trying" pin. That doesn't mean I don't want to compete, but I'm not preoccupied with winning. I'm just there for the fun of it.It's difficult to see the benefits in Participaction when the strongest kids are firing an over-inflated volleyball at your head in a rousing game of Eliminate the Weaker Members of the Tribe (aka Dodgeball).
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Hiccup
Nothing constructive to report today, but these are the things I find on the Internet. Actually, even as I write this, I'm thinking of new things to say. Writing is therapeutic and stimulates neurons. My neurons are lazy. Bad neurons! Moronic neurons!
It's that kind of day, so present to you:
Tiny Plaid Ninjas and Tiny Plaid Ninjas 2.
Also, check out Penguins Calls at SpinnerDisc (the author of Tiny Plaid Ninjas).
Nothing constructive to report today, but these are the things I find on the Internet. Actually, even as I write this, I'm thinking of new things to say. Writing is therapeutic and stimulates neurons. My neurons are lazy. Bad neurons! Moronic neurons!
It's that kind of day, so present to you:
Tiny Plaid Ninjas and Tiny Plaid Ninjas 2.
Also, check out Penguins Calls at SpinnerDisc (the author of Tiny Plaid Ninjas).
Friday, May 20, 2005
Geek Fest 2005
Yesterday, all 36 of my years were pounding down on my eyelids 'cause at midnight on the 19th, I stood in line with various other geeks 'round the block from the Paramount to see Revenge of the Sith. Just 10 years ago, I could recover rather well from an all nighter, but now at the hoary old chestnut age of 36, mah joints are achin'.
Still, it was worth it. ROTS definitely makes up for Attack of the Clones, although the "touching luv scenes" in ROTS drip with fromage. I kept expecting Ed the Sock to pop out of a vase and protest at the cheeziness of it all. George needs to go back to Film school to re-learn some cinematic basics about setting up a scene.
But aside from that, the movie holds together pretty well. I won't be revealing any great secret here (except for one girl I overheard saying "Y'know, I really thought until the end that Anakin could've gone either way on the Dark Side thing."), but it was heart wrenching to watch Ani give himself completely to the darkness. The tragedy of it was really well done and I flinched all the way to the end.
My only real complaint was the introduction of the Vader suit. This movie takes place roughly 20 years before Star Wars: A New Hope, so all the tech in the movie is outdated. The basic designs for the Star Destroyers, Imperial Cruisiers, Tie Fighters, and X-Wings are all there, but you can clearly see that they're bulkier and will be refined in 20 years.
But apprently, Vader's suit doesn't need an upgrade. The fashion trends in that galaxy far far away seem to trudge along much slower than the evolution of technology.
I just would've liked to see that there was a 1.0 version of the Vader suit with some kind of doodad that would've been phased out in subsequent versions (like a bulky aerial antenna so he could pick up the local rock station in his Doom Dome).
So now that we've got all the Star Wars chapters done, here are my favourites in order:
1. Chapter 5: Empire Strikes Back
2. Chapter 4: A New Hope
3. Chapter 3: Revenge of the Sith
4. Chapter 1: Phantom Menace
5. Chapter 2: Attack of the Clones
6. Chapter 6: Return of the Jedi (hated the fact at stormtroopers could so easily be dispatched by walking teddy bears)
Note: Fifth and Sixth place are closely tied and quite interchangable. Any thoughts?
Yesterday, all 36 of my years were pounding down on my eyelids 'cause at midnight on the 19th, I stood in line with various other geeks 'round the block from the Paramount to see Revenge of the Sith. Just 10 years ago, I could recover rather well from an all nighter, but now at the hoary old chestnut age of 36, mah joints are achin'.
Still, it was worth it. ROTS definitely makes up for Attack of the Clones, although the "touching luv scenes" in ROTS drip with fromage. I kept expecting Ed the Sock to pop out of a vase and protest at the cheeziness of it all. George needs to go back to Film school to re-learn some cinematic basics about setting up a scene.
But aside from that, the movie holds together pretty well. I won't be revealing any great secret here (except for one girl I overheard saying "Y'know, I really thought until the end that Anakin could've gone either way on the Dark Side thing."), but it was heart wrenching to watch Ani give himself completely to the darkness. The tragedy of it was really well done and I flinched all the way to the end.
My only real complaint was the introduction of the Vader suit. This movie takes place roughly 20 years before Star Wars: A New Hope, so all the tech in the movie is outdated. The basic designs for the Star Destroyers, Imperial Cruisiers, Tie Fighters, and X-Wings are all there, but you can clearly see that they're bulkier and will be refined in 20 years.
But apprently, Vader's suit doesn't need an upgrade. The fashion trends in that galaxy far far away seem to trudge along much slower than the evolution of technology.
I just would've liked to see that there was a 1.0 version of the Vader suit with some kind of doodad that would've been phased out in subsequent versions (like a bulky aerial antenna so he could pick up the local rock station in his Doom Dome).
So now that we've got all the Star Wars chapters done, here are my favourites in order:
1. Chapter 5: Empire Strikes Back
2. Chapter 4: A New Hope
3. Chapter 3: Revenge of the Sith
4. Chapter 1: Phantom Menace
5. Chapter 2: Attack of the Clones
6. Chapter 6: Return of the Jedi (hated the fact at stormtroopers could so easily be dispatched by walking teddy bears)
Note: Fifth and Sixth place are closely tied and quite interchangable. Any thoughts?
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Surprise!
I love surprise parties. I haven't had one in many, many years, so maybe you can imagine my surprise when I walked into my friend's apartment last night and saw all my friends waiting for me. We had gone out to play pool last night, like we usually do, but the rest of the evening was a blank to me. Something had been planned, but I didn't know what it was.
The table was covered samplings of my favorite foods and some of my closest friends sat 'round. We began to eat, laugh, and drink, sharing some great stories and explaining a few "incidents" that have occured over the years.
We played a drinking game called "I Never" (introduced to me by the fine lady known as Kowy), which involves each person stating something they have never done and each person at the table has to take a drink if they have done it. Some interesting truths were revealed that night!
So thanks to everyone who has made my 36th birthday special. It's been a fine year and I look forward to griping about turning 40 with all of you over the next four years.
I love surprise parties. I haven't had one in many, many years, so maybe you can imagine my surprise when I walked into my friend's apartment last night and saw all my friends waiting for me. We had gone out to play pool last night, like we usually do, but the rest of the evening was a blank to me. Something had been planned, but I didn't know what it was.
The table was covered samplings of my favorite foods and some of my closest friends sat 'round. We began to eat, laugh, and drink, sharing some great stories and explaining a few "incidents" that have occured over the years.
We played a drinking game called "I Never" (introduced to me by the fine lady known as Kowy), which involves each person stating something they have never done and each person at the table has to take a drink if they have done it. Some interesting truths were revealed that night!
So thanks to everyone who has made my 36th birthday special. It's been a fine year and I look forward to griping about turning 40 with all of you over the next four years.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Signs of Age
I completely forgot: today is my birthday and I'm 36 years old. I only remembered when Ms. Carotte woke up, looked at the clock, shook me awake, and wished me a happy birthday.
I usually try to organize some kind of doodad down at the local pub to celebrate the day, but it completely slipped my mind. Is this a sign of dementia taking hold?
Maybe it's too late to worry about that. And even if I did, I'd probably forget it in the next minute or so.
Hey! Did you know? Today is my birthday! Oh wait... I already said that. Dagnabbit it!
I completely forgot: today is my birthday and I'm 36 years old. I only remembered when Ms. Carotte woke up, looked at the clock, shook me awake, and wished me a happy birthday.
I usually try to organize some kind of doodad down at the local pub to celebrate the day, but it completely slipped my mind. Is this a sign of dementia taking hold?
Maybe it's too late to worry about that. And even if I did, I'd probably forget it in the next minute or so.
Hey! Did you know? Today is my birthday! Oh wait... I already said that. Dagnabbit it!
Monday, May 02, 2005
May Day Challenged
On Saturday, I led a public Bealtane ritual (May Day celebration) for the local Pagan community (organized by Montreal Sabbats and hosted by West Island Pagan Association). It went off extremely well and mostly without a hitch (I arrived a bit later than I expected).
But I learned an important lesson about organizing a maypole dance activity: you really need to use wide ribbons. I used yarn, and while it eventually worked, the process of twisting around the maypole took forever and the revellers were running out of steam.
We selected two people to be the King and Queen of May and had them stand at the base of the pole so that they could be bound to it by the yarn. Once they were bound, the people were given flowers and began to dance around them, throwing their flowers to them or inserting their flowers in the yarn or in their pockets.
By the time we were done, the King and Queen looked like a flower bush! I wished I had brought a camera, but ritual etiquette dictates that it is inconsiderate to take photos of people at a ritual (some people don't want a physical record of them being associated with a pagan event).
There were a couple of other things I had planned, but time and logistics made them impossible. All in all, it was a smashing success and my thanks go to everyone who made it possible.
On Saturday, I led a public Bealtane ritual (May Day celebration) for the local Pagan community (organized by Montreal Sabbats and hosted by West Island Pagan Association). It went off extremely well and mostly without a hitch (I arrived a bit later than I expected).
But I learned an important lesson about organizing a maypole dance activity: you really need to use wide ribbons. I used yarn, and while it eventually worked, the process of twisting around the maypole took forever and the revellers were running out of steam.
We selected two people to be the King and Queen of May and had them stand at the base of the pole so that they could be bound to it by the yarn. Once they were bound, the people were given flowers and began to dance around them, throwing their flowers to them or inserting their flowers in the yarn or in their pockets.
By the time we were done, the King and Queen looked like a flower bush! I wished I had brought a camera, but ritual etiquette dictates that it is inconsiderate to take photos of people at a ritual (some people don't want a physical record of them being associated with a pagan event).
There were a couple of other things I had planned, but time and logistics made them impossible. All in all, it was a smashing success and my thanks go to everyone who made it possible.
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