Two feelings for which there must be a German word that describes each perfectly.

The habit of completely forgetting that you used to live in a basement appartment rife with wood bugs once you have moved into a new appartment.

The feeling of seeing an advertisement on a bus shelter for a rave that you used to attend back in the day when it was word of mouth with no security, no searches, and now you find that it is an all-day event hosted by Ron Jeremy and the Coors Light Girls.

The GDP includes air pollution and advertising for cigarettes, and ambulances to clear our highways of carnage. . . . It grows with the production of napalm and missiles and nuclear warheads. . . . It does not allow for the health of our families, the quality of their education, or the joy of their play. It is indifferent to the decency of our factories and the safety of our streets alike. . . . It measures everything, in short, except that which makes life worthwhile

Victoria moment #235

We had just moved into a house in James Bay, the 4 of us; me, Carrie, George and the Doctor, as he was known then. In order to get high speed cable internet access, we needed a "technician" from Shaw Cable to come to our house and configure all the equipment. I felt kind of embarassed when he came over to the basement of our house, which was made out like a rec-room, complete with ping-pong, bean bag chairs, and a shiny black coke-dealer entertainment console with no equipment in it. Our ritual after work was to hit the bong immediately upon entry to the house. I remember that I was wearing a suit, as I worked for EDS at the time, who required all their people to wear suits. I looked over to the technician tapping away on the keyboard as I pulled a bong hit, and I thought to myself, he'll understand, this is Victoria. He glanced my way and gave me a look that confirmed my suspicions of empathy, a look that said, "yes, we are in Victoria, and this is what we do, this is how we affirm ourselves".

However, the real affirmation came 5 minutes later, when I came back downstairs and found the technician pulling a bong hit of his own.

A childhood taunt from my school days in rural Vermont;
You think you're hot shit on a silver platter, but you're really cold piss in a dixie cup.

Children are so blunt and cruel.

"How can I hurt you?" he says when we finally get down to business. He leans back on his mangy couch or bed/futon; I can't tell because it is covered in dirty clothes. With a stroke back through his hair with his hand, I can see the giant "M" on his knuckles, some kind of ring. I don't like to buy in this "retail" market, let alone having to sit through 5 minutes of whatever pirated dvd is playing.

His two friends on the other couch, nod at me silently, and immediately return their gaze to the television.

"Nice day outside," I say, "you should get out."

"Yeah, maybe we should.....haven't gone out yet today.

I get what I want and leave, so happy that I no longer inhabit their world, but disappointed in myself for having entered it, if only for a moment.

Found, while cleaning out my files at work:


Belief Window


I am good looking
I am immature.
I am athletic
I am capable of achieving anything.
It is best to blend in and not cause trouble.
The world is a corrupt place that is getting worse everyday.
The US is an evil nation.
Money will solve most any problem I have.
I am a procrastinator.
I am not a powerful speaker.
I believe that everyone should pull his or her fair share.
I believe that leadership is sorely lacking in this world.
I believe there is a way to fix all this.
I believe that I will be the breadwinner for my family.
I believe that I should make the major financial decisions.
I believe that I can move the earth with my words…..

Ginger Alert! Now that the hangover has faded, it has become clear that the staff at Ginger 62 not only added a healthy tip without authorization to my bill, and subsequently ran through my card without my signature, and then, took my card and filled their car with gas at 3 in the morning. Thanks Ginger!

Marked in my daytimer for last Friday was a reminder to "rejoice in my success". What success you may ask? Well, if I have not explained before on these pages, I am in sales, in sofware sales, for a large company, whose performance is graded quarterly. Most of the business comes in during the last week of the quarter, with much of it on the last day.

So rejoice we did, perhaps too emphatically, as I am not used to drinking so heavily. I must have had 5 drinks before I even left the office. Then it was off the a pub with my coworkers to drink on the company tab. We left to have a smoke and perhaps watch a little "ballet", but we slipped into Ginger 62 for a drink. It turned out to be a mistake, as i lost my credit card there, and the bouncer wanted to take out Mike as we lobbied to go back inside to get the card. That will be my last time there. No regrets here.

And now for you, here is Dry Shave. Go buy the book, NOW.

Oh my christ, is television pathetic. I have tried, really tried to watch tv for the last few nights, but am never able to make it through more than a few minutes at a time. The programming during the evenings seems to break down into the following categories: sports, "news", infotainment, celebrity-based news, game shows, and of course, "Friends". Is this what you get for your $50 a month cable subscription?

I have been wasting much time at work playing gameneverending. Get on it and test it, but have patience as it is still a prototype, or God will smote your ass!

Dean of Textism writes today, or last night, about how much he hated being inconvenienced by film sets in Vancouver, producing the next episode of Hostage Negotiator, or Halloween 8. While I am concerned for his misanthropy, many of his points are valid. I detest the industry with more venom than he, as it holds my wife captive for 16 hours a day, leaving me a bachelor 5 nights of the week. Which is why I tried watching tv. I used to just smoke pot every night and fall asleep, but that left me too hazy in the morning to deal with the uppity midwesterners calling me on the phone to bitch about my price increases. Fuck them all if they can't understand why i am so drowsy. For christ's sake, it 630am in Vancouver, what do expect, complete concenration?

My ex-girlfriend got married last weekend. I was not invited, which was great, because I would not have attended, seeing as how I am married anyway. Strange how you can be with someone for 5 years and not even care in the slightest for them. Man, she was country.

I will upgrade this damn thing to blogger plus, or blogger de-luxe, sometime soon, as soon as I cancel my porn subscriptions.

Hello, I'm today's guest editor of Schoolboy77. Andrew's fingers are badly sprained as he is suffering from an acute case of carpal tunnel syndrome. It’s a warning to us all: if you don't use your whole arm muscles the nerves-and-tendon passage in the wrist can become inflamed. Actually that's a lie, I’m a 13-year-old computer hacker from Cape Breton and have decided to wreck havoc in the Blog community. Be warned: the CIA wants me to work for them.

I have this quote that my history teacher keeps taped to the front of his classroom (he's got a ponytail):

We are only geometricians in regard to matter; the Greeks were first of all geometricians in the apprenticeship of virtue. Since force corrupts even the righteous . . . the only worthwhile strategy for the true radical is the interruption of force wherever it appears.
-Simone Weil

What genius of political analysis recently said this: “The root causes of terrorism are terrorists.” Hint: he's the same Canadian Prime Minister who bares an outlandish chin and pooh-poohed the idea that free trade (question: more or less cool than the BareNakedLadies?) would limit Canada's room for manoeuvre. I cannot decide if this is solipsism or a tautology. But I'm only 13. Vexing, it keeps me up at night.

That said I'm not worried for Canada, because ‘the Americans’ will undoubtedly let us keep our bureaucracy. Not even US military might could defeat something that entrenched and obstinate. Saddam could use a platoon of clerks from any number of Canadian ministries; once they're dug in they never give up.

I used to think that Canada was the “North American Alternative” but now it seems we're more “the convenient Northern fiction”. That's it got to get to class.

See if you can guess who I am:

I have at one time been supported, or am presently supported by the US military.

I have bought many weapons from the US.

I have used these weapons against minorities that annoy me and get in the way of my agenda.

I have used these weapons against other countries.

Who am I?

If you answered Ariel Sharon, Benjamin Netanyahu, General Musharraf Parvez or Saddam Hussein, you are correct.

No matter how much I try, I can't let go of my love the Grateful Dead. Rob came by my workstation ( i can't believe i just wrote that), pinned a picture of the band from the Donna Jean and Keith period, and walked away without a word.

Things are getting pushed to the edge in the arena of world affairs. GWB is on the brink of starting a major perpetual war (the US having already started and funded several smaller perpetual wars), and no Americans seem to voice their disapproval. I say this not to call Americans apathetic. I think they care much more deeply than the press reports, and that is exactly the problem. The American media is not actively asking for justification for this war. This is being left to a handful of politicians and to the general public, who are largely excluded from influencing the opinions expressed through the major news media. Rise up and shout!

I love Canada.

I could not have said it better. It is time for Americans to wake up and blow off the mind dust from a lifetime of mind-numbing consumption.

What earthly good can this possibly serve?

Ahhhh, still recovering from Island Style 3, my first real outdoor party in several years, and my first time going off since I saw Ritchie Hawtin at Sona last September. I was quite anxious upon arrival, as Anya and I were stumbling around in the dark gaggle of youths, looking for west coast funky house....we found it.

My favorite moment of the night was when the DJ mixed in Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots Were Made for Walking". Everybody loved it, even the kids. Speaking of kids, a 23-year old came up to me and asked me how old I was. When I said "31", he said "cool, I would love to see my parents at this type of thing".

Too much work and too much worry make for a boring life. I refuse to sit around and talk about mortgage payments and investments, like people from southern Ontario. Well- they're not all like that, in fact only a few are, but I seem to know too many of them.

Boredom has spread through my office like a virus. The so-called War on Terror continues unabated and seemlingly unopposed. I am just glad Canada brought the troops home. I have been hesitant to post comments of a political nature here, but I can no longer ignore the political animal raging and seething underneath my button down existence.

Nepotism
n.
Favoritism shown or patronage granted to relatives, as in business.

Two years ago today I made the best decision in my life and married Anya. I love her more than ever.

According to my research, the second anniversary calls for a gift of cotton. This severely limits the gift selection to clothing. I bought her a Fred Perry t-shirt from the Pharsyde It's a tight light blue top. I think she will love it.


On another topic, my 4 year old nephew is now speaking like a 10 year old. Says he, " you would be impressed with the serious tennis we're playing."

I look to the south and pray it won't happen here, that we won't become what they have become. I don't think we have that in us, but i do worry seriously that the American tradition of extraterritoriality will continue with brutal measures against Canadian social values.

For the first time in a long time, i worry for the state of the world.