Jour Trois

Dear Maman,

fun fact about twenteens #7

Take away their langage premier they turn twenty-something.

Peace. Pour a petit temps, anyways. They soon discovered that their English hadn't actually been taken away, they had just been tricked. They needed only to not speak while the counselors where near and the could continue on as they did during their last four years.

Maintenant, je digress. Because I will quickly run out of things to talk about if I stick with this group of girls, but mostly parce que there really isn't as many twenteens as I make there out to be.

I think there is actually only one, and she is beginning to come around.

The real issue is that I do not know any French whatsoever, in fact I have only just realized that speaking french is a beauxcoup difficile than I imagined.

If I had more time I would go deeper into how discouraged I became playing Trivial Pursuit, however the details are insignifiant.

Bonne Nuit,

--b

Sent with amour from Nowhere, Particular.

Sans wifi

Mom,

I am moved in and unpacked and napped and coffeed.

(I figure since this is my last day with the English language I can butcher it as much as I want. Feel free to use those new verbs I just created. You're welcome.)

I have also met my roommate, Ryan. Or Adam, I can't remember for sure. When I met him I did a name association for myself but made the mistake of using Adam Ryan as a memory tool. I even asked the nice girls whom are moving everyone in to remind me, but that didn't work worth a darn. Now I'm banking on him forgetting my name and doing our introductions again.

I hope he doesn't cheat like I did.

A Twenteen is an early twenty-something who hasn't quite given up the shreeking and giggling and "you're-such-a-sl*t-ing" from their late teen years.

When I went to the local fast-coffee joint I over heard three young women talking about the french program and I was about to say hi until they openly labled themselves as a gaggle of twenteens.

I kept my bearded mouth shut and sat in the corner and watched an 85 yr old hit on a pair of 89 yr olds.

I sure hope I find more thirty-ishes like my roommate (although he might be closer to a 1/4 lifer if I am not mistaken).

Anyway, I should finish my sub and get back to french school. I just wanted to let you know that I overheard the twenteens say that they didn't know what they'd do because we weren't getting access to the campus wifi.

My updates may be coming from my phone when I get around to it.

Miss you,

--b

Sent with love, from Nowhere, Particular

first night in Moncton

Dear Mom,

The cat gets Valium.

This is fine. After what I've seen here every cat should get Valium. And of course it's not real Valium, because people save that for other people. Cats get other stuff that we're told effects them, the cats, in the same way that Valium effects humans.

So the cat gets not-Valium.

And really I should write that the cat got not-Valium for the first time tonight and after what I've seen here, every cat should get it.

More on that later because I am off to bed because while we watched the cat take the not-Valium I lost count of the whiskey's I've had.

Do keep in mind that I'm learning how to count in French. Tomorrow I learn how to say four.

your son,

--b

going east

a few of my plans to go east are coming together.

this is really great because I am set to leave in the next two and a half weeks.

not to mention that by "few" I mean "one" and that one is my ride out there.

turns out kajiji has a rideshare program. it's a bit like couchsurfing for drivers without the profiles and community.

come to think of it the service could do with a bit of community.

perhaps Cory and I will discuss this on the steady trip east.

By the way; Happy Birthday Greg! Your card is in the mail, and Bizz, your mothers day card is lost in my parents kitchen. I hope it turns up because I really liked picking it out. I have a few other mother's day cards to send out but alas I do not have any addresses.

Merde.

Bon Nuit!

--b

The New Big

Man.

I wrote something.

I'm too tired to read over it to post it.

So I didn't.

I wrote this boring piece.

Next time will be better. I promise.

(The good news is my beard is big. Not Italy-big, but still pretty big. I think East Coast-big will set a new standard for Bird's Big Beard)

Roughed up Ideas

Roughed up Ideas
Until I find a better mobile bloggers app I will be roughing up ideas on my notepad app and emailing them to blogger. Until I get used to it, or until I get fed up and go back to using a full sized computer, you may have to forgive some minor typos.

Though so far the predicuve text has fixed everything.

(I guess it doesn't know how to spell predictive)

I am writing this way for two (quick) reasons ...

1) I went back to my house at school for a few days to wrap up my exams and move out. I have no essays or major research tasks so I left my laptop behind. There are less distractions from studying if I can't flip on four episodes of Dexter on a whim.

Yes. I understand the irony in my having found a distraction anyways, but I've come to terms with it ... As I am sure you have too.

2) when I head out east this summer I would like to be moving as light as possible, which, ipso facto, leaves me without a laptop. I will be blogging, it's just that I don't know what I'll be blogging on.

Grayson manages just fine working from cafè's he finds, an option I haven't ruled out.

It will be nice becuse I don't know how to make hyperlinks on this notepad program.

And before I get to a third reason I will sign off and get back to either studying or bed, I haven't decided which yet.

Tomorrow I write an exam for Reading Fiction, which I will do well on.

Yours,

--b

Sent, with love, from Nowhere, Particular

Université du Moncton

Oh exams, you are what I did not miss about school.

I like the essays, and the take home assignments due a week later, and the lectures and the young minds and the society of school.

But the exams are a bane, a thorn, a nuisance.

We spend twelve weeks learning great, new ideas then have two hours to get it all out on paper. I don't get it, I really don't get it.

In other news, I received word this week that I will be studying at Université du Moncton for five weeks starting at the end of May. Just so you're aware, I may start writing in French soon so I can get into the zone for a month of hardcore learning. Part of the challenge of the course out east is not to speak any English at all, and if I am caught three times I'm sent packing.

I'm really excited, and I'll share that excitement with you through here.

dans l'attende de votre résponse,
i am looking forward to hearing from you,
(... but i searched for that one the web)

b





(one of my exam questions is on the film Hamlet (2000) starring Ethan Hawke, Julia Styles, Bill Murray, et al. Just in case I loose the link to an online copy of the movie I'll post it here)

3:25, time to shower

I was picked out of the class to show a head stand. I feel this is my greatest accomplishment this week, mind you this week hasn't been very productive. I mean, I haven't even had a show yet today, and it's already 3:16; I am sure it will be closer to four before I take care of that little issue. Good thing my clothes don't judge me for smelling the way I do.

I slept through the pagan new year, I haven't got a clue if anyone was fooled. The only one who respects that holiday in the family is you, mom. I imagine you caught a fair few of the nursing staff off guard with some crazy stunt. I can't wait to hear about them.

I called the people at Trois Pistole. The lady on the phone said she didn't know the status of my application but that I would be getting a letter in the mail soon. Western sent me an email to check my student account for information they sent to it. Jokes on me because I haven't a clue how I check that email. I had forgotten what it is like to be a clueless first year, however this time around I give a crap and know that no one is going to check it for me.

I certainly wish they would, or at least share with me the secrets of the website. I can see why people stay loyal to a system the know; it's mostly so they don't have to learn a new one.

All in all, I did get to do a head stand for the class. Slowly bring myself up onto my head and forearms, then slowly and controlled, lower myself back down onto the mat. We then learned a prep move that will eventually have me balanced on my forearms only, my head won't touch the mat, with my quads vertical and my knees bent and my feet resting on my head.

not doing homework

my room is still an arrangement
of books and clutter and mess

so i grab a blue bin

how do socks wiggle their way into small places
how did i get so many so many socks

an ancient plate of peanut butter
several empty coffee mugs
stacks of unused folded
loose leaf lined paper
a half eaten plum

but the plum is from today -

my four new juggling balls
provide a wonderful distraction
because after all isn't this what
a day like today is all about?

distractions

Odd Language

Yoga ends, I change my clothes. Tie my shoes. My hand slips the lace.

I swear.

didn't you just finish yoga?

I take a walk, a boost of juice with a side of espresso;
an extra shot -
on the house -
because I am patient -

A smile thanks her. She did not need to do that, I just finished yoga.

Find a seat, I bump the chair. I do not spill a drop.

I swear.

what's going on with you tonight?

Odd.

Yoga, basically.

Welcome, everyone. please, choose a spot on the floor. mats are available in the corner.

make yourself comfortable. breath in slowly, through your nose. exhale slowly also through your nose.

pull yourself into a ball. roll softly back and forth to warm up your back and spine.

now stretch. do a sort of push up. bend. stretch again.

lye flat on your back, palms up and open yourself up. breath deep. in through your nose and out through your nose. relax. let your mind slow.

now take a moment to thank your body for helping you through the series of exercises this evening. we'll see you again next week.

my room's a mess

My room may be a mess, but I'm sitting here at my desk writing about nothing because writing about nothing is a whole lot more fun.

House Keeping Item #1 - There is now a word verification text box to fill out before you post. There has been a couple of, well several actually, robot posters trying desperately to get our attention by posting not so interesting comments on my not so interesting blog.

In the end, the jokes on them because they've wasted their time writing a program that searches out sites that receive more than one hit a week.

The verification thingy is a little annoying, but I think we can make a game out of it by asking commenting visitors to use the word provided to them in their comment post.

In closing, since by item #1 I actually meant the only thing I had to write about on this post, I leave you with a picture because pictures make words more enjoyable by giving us a thinking rest for a while.

My room is still a mess, but at least I cleared some cobwebs away from this place.

(mom is doing much better today. I got word from Mands that she'll be in Recovery getting all the physiotherapy she can handle)

Miss you terribly,

--b

It's science

I like my room warmer rather than colder.

For the past couple of weeks I've been without a heater in my room at school, the old one conked out on account of too much dust getting inhibiting the filter, which slowed down the heat manifold conduit and made a mess of the circuit board.

But I can tell that you're bored with all this circuit manifold talk so I'll skip the technical jargon.

What's important is my room is warm again because I picked up another one a few hours ago.

It's toasty warm in here now. Perhaps now I can get some work done.

(that might mean I end up writing more here, there are so many things I haven't been writing about for so long. I get tingly just thinking about it all.)

early morning thoughts

here are some point form thoughts while I write my poetry paper. I haven't taken the time to arrange them in any particular order; at least, I don't plan to.

- I have a toque on because my heater conked out two weeks ago and when I got me money back without my hassle it never occurred to me that it would be cold for another two months.

- I can't, for the life of me, make a good cup of coffee.

- my roommates love to celebrate a goal by tapping the same spot on the the floor in the living room/ceiling of my room with their foot and all their weight.

- I think I was possessed when I wrote the last paper for this class and did so well. I am afraid that I can't possibly do as well this time around. I peaked too early.

- I closed my door as if it makes a difference to do so when I live in a papermaché house.

-

It happens to the best of us

I sent a text to Kate's friend the other day.

(it was while I was driving)

Kate was asleep in the passenger seat and we were on our way back
from something; I'm not sure what, though I am sure it doesn't matter
for the story.

I had stopped to fuel up.

The text'ng went like this...

"So it's twenty to ten, we're still in London and Kate just hit her
proverbial wall."

"I don't know what that means but i hope you're not beating her"

"No, not beating. I think I miss used the word. She's tired. Asleep
nearly. Also, I just noticed that when we filled up I likely left the
gas cap on her hood.
It's no longer there."

"Hahaha oh man. You 2 are hilarious. Hope you're home safe and sound.
I am done for the night so maybe see you tmrw!"

A day later we're out at Boars Head for a pint with Amy when Kate asks
me if there's something I wanted to tell her.

I, of course, had not mentioned the gas cap incident as I, of course,
had expected to have had it replaced before she noticed.

What I didn't realize is that the absence of a gas cap turned the
check engine light on which the turned the car into the shop class of
Kate's school.

They made a crack about blonds, which would later be a crack over my
head.

Meanwhile, back at the Boars Head, I was, of course, blaming all this on Amy because she had already told Kate a out our text'ng the night
before.

"Why would you think something like that?"

*crack*

ouch

..in other news:

One for the road

Since katey's gone to work i've sent myself out on a few errands
around Stratford. As I'm sitting here at the boatshead pub on Ontario
street I realize how I had forgotten that I liked Stratford. And how
much I liked it. At least, this quiet little pub.

I turned in here because my other favourite spot was closing at seven.
Instead of a hot chocolate I get a pint of Guinness.

I like the trade off.

I'm taking a break front being trapped inside katey's place, watching
the olympics.

Also, I needed a card and some chocolates.

Tis the season, right?

They'll Think of That

Reading week started today. I'm sitting in the library on campus, hanging out while Katey writes a paper for her online course.

The paper has to be four pages, single spaced.

That's three and a half longer than most of the paper I've had to write so far this semester.

And I'm the one doing an English degree.


(Why doesn't that girl at the next table understand what a no cellphone zone means?

I should have tipped that maître d' better)


I lost my keys this morning; at least I couldn't find them. Katey and I searched and searched, which also means didn't speak because both of us would have got angry over the missing keys.

I wish Ikea could come up with some sort of key-storage-device that I could use. Then they could use us in their line of commercials that have been focusing on spousal abuse.

You've likely seen them. There's one that has a family quietly watching television while the narrator, Fraser Crane's brother, tells us how the evening would have gone horribly wrong had the family not have invested in Ikea furniture. There's another one where a husband and wife avoid a battle because of their closet arrangement.



When I first saw these commercials they made me angry; how dare Ikea assume that couples everywhere are so angry that they're prone to boil over at the slightest thing.

But I understand now. If I had a do-ad or thingy that kept my keys in the same place everyday, not to mention my phone, wallet or glasses, I'd be a whole lot safer.

Wasn't life easier when we could leave our doors unlocked and phones stayed attached to the walls? I wouldn't have keys to eventually find next to the washing machine in the basement, nor would I have had the desire to stomp my size 14 through that girls blackberry storm her parents bought her for getting a B on intro to psych.

We Are More

by Shane Koyczan
Performed at the
Opening Cerermonies
in Vancouver

When defining Canada
you might list some statistics
you might mention our tallest building
or biggest lake
you might shake a tree in the fall
and call a red leaf Canada
you might rattle off some celebrities
might mention Buffy Sainte-Marie
might even mention the fact that we've got a few
Barenaked Ladies
or that we made these crazy things
like zippers
electric cars
and washing machines
when defining Canada
it seems the world's anthem has been
" been there done that"
and maybe that's where we used to be at
it's true
we've done and we've been
we've seen
all the great themes get swallowed up by the machine
and turned into theme parks
but when defining Canada
don't forget to mention that we have set sparks
we are not just fishing stories
about the one that got away
we do more than sit around and say "eh?"
and yes
we are the home of the Rocket and the Great One
who inspired little number nines
and little number ninety-nines
but we're more than just hockey and fishing lines
off of the rocky coast of the Maritimes
and some say what defines us
is something as simple as please and thank you
and as for you're welcome
well we say that too
but we are more
than genteel or civilized
we are an idea in the process
of being realized
we are young
we are cultures strung together
then woven into a tapestry
and the design
is what makes us more
than the sum total of our history
we are an experiment going right for a change
with influences that range from a to zed
and yes we say zed instead of zee
we are the colours of Chinatown and the coffee of Little Italy
we dream so big that there are those
who would call our ambition an industry
because we are more than sticky maple syrup and clean snow
we do more than grow wheat and brew beer
we are vineyards of good year after good year
we reforest what we clear
because we believe in generations beyond our own
knowing now that so many of us
have grown past what used to be
we can stand here today
filled with all the hope people have
when they say things like "someday"
someday we'll be great
someday we'll be this
or that
someday we'll be at a point
when someday was yesterday
and all of our aspirations will pay the way
for those who on that day
look towards tomorrow
and still they say someday
we will reach the goals we set
and we will get interest on our inspiration
because we are more than a nation of whale watchers and lumberjacks
more than backpacks and hiking trails
we are hammers and nails building bridges
towards those who are willing to walk across
we are the lost-and-found for all those who might find themselves at a loss
we are not the see-through gloss or glamour
of those who clamour for the failings of others
we are fathers brothers sisters and mothers
uncles and nephews aunts and nieces
we are cousins
we are found missing puzzle pieces
we are families with room at the table for newcomers
we are more than summers and winters
more than on and off seasons
we are the reasons people have for wanting to stay
because we are more than what we say or do
we live to get past what we go through
and learn who we are
we are students
students who study the studiousness of studying
so we know what as well as why
we don't have all the answers
but we try
and the effort is what makes us more
we don't all know what it is in life we're looking for
so keep exploring
go far and wide
or go inside but go deep
go deep
as if James Cameron was filming a sequel to The Abyss
and suddenly there was this location scout
trying to figure some way out
to get inside you
because you've been through hell and high water
and you went deep
keep exploring
because we are more
than a laundry list of things to do and places to see
we are more than hills to ski
or countryside ponds to skate
we are the abandoned hesitation of all those who can't wait
we are first-rate greasy-spoon diners and healthy-living cafes
a country that is all the ways you choose to live
a land that can give you variety
because we are choices
we are millions upon millions of voices shouting
" keep exploring... we are more"
we are the surprise the world has in store for you
it's true
Canada is the "what" in "what's new?"
so don't say "been there done that"
unless you've sat on the sidewalk
while chalk artists draw still lifes
on the concrete of a kid in the street
beatboxing to Neil Young for fun
don't say you've been there done that
unless you've been here doing it
let this country be your first-aid kit
for all the times you get sick of the same old same old
let us be the story told to your friends
and when that story ends
leave chapters for the next time you'll come back
next time pack for all the things
you didn't pack for the first time
but don't let your luggage define your travels
each life unravels differently
and experiences are what make up
the colours of our tapestry
we are the true north
strong and free
and what's more
is that we didn't just say it
we made it be.


Vancouver Sun, Feb 12, 2010

one love

I finished the first part of sense and sensibility, but I've another two parts to read before Monday's class.

Not to mention a movie review, poetry midterm and a take-home all due this week.

My café is getting cold, so I'd better get working on it to. I just wanted to give a quick hello from the local European coffee shack in Stratford.

I'd been having a craving for an espresso for about a week; I felt it time to succumb to the temptation.

Adieu,

--b

sent, with love, from Nowhere, Particular.

Why talk about that

The end of a week, I'm sitting at another coffee shop near campus having another coffee, a simple, over priced sandwich, and a glass of water.

Though that's not much to talk about.

What do I have to talk about today? Geeze, not much really. I've psydo- planned something for the first of the summer, tho I won't know for sure about it for another week or so.

I can't talk about that.

I've been holding a volunteer package to a local school for about a week now and I've had too much school work to sit down with it, not to mention my needing a police check first.

I can't talk about that.

I'm reading midsummer night's dream, sense and sensibility, the tempest, a book of poetry, and some other novel that I've an essay to write eventually.

But that's all business as usual, so why talk about that.

This is comfortable. I like studenting. I feel as though I could do this for a while yet.

I wonder what people think about my being a student again.

Perhaps that's something to talk about.

sent, with love, from class

A Break

So here's the thing. I had a second yoga class today. I felt disorganized. Rushed.

And now I'm sitting at sbux. smelly. having a coffee.

This is counter productive.

Isn't it?

I dont know. I would have thought I should have had a booster juice or
something.

Man. It's been a long time since I've writen.

At Jill and Steve's there was a tea cup that had broken in half.
Cleaved. Like a log. I asked if the madhatter had come for tea recently.

"Oh I couldn't possibly have another. Oh, well, if you insist... just
half a cup though"

I laughed. But I'm a geek like that.

In fact while I'm writing this I am thinking of how to get a costume
together for Burtons "wonderland" that comes out in march.

It would be a nice break from the usual movie going.

Anyone want to join me?

Tshirt

Since I am completely iDdicted to my new gadget I figured I should at least share a bit of what I'm doing with it.

Today, while i was hanging around the second cup on campus between classes, I was staring down at this little device I own.

It's such a little device to demand so much of my attention.

Anyways, as I was staring down at it, waiting for it to do something spectacular a tall shadow fell over the screen. I looked up to and an English prof was smirking at me.

On this particular afternoon a group of a hundred students were gathered together, screaming and chanting and competing for something or other (and five years ago it likely would have been an exciting thing to have watched, but five years ago I was doing my first undegrad and didn't have a new iPhone to stare at while waiting for spectacular to happen).

He asked me how I was able to study with all the noise.

It took me a moment. Wow, I thought. He's asked me a question... and I haven't responded yet.

Mumble mumbled, I replied. Awkwardly star struck. What is wrong with me? I thought. I am more articulate than this.

Well, he said, I suppose if you're plugged in you're likley not to hear any noise at all, are you.

Yes. I'm. Not. It's new.

Indeed, he smiled, see you next class then. It was good talking to you.

Same, said I, same.

Whoops, I swore

Cass,

I know no one hardly uses email anymore, but it holds a special place in my heart. Not as special as the postal service, though I don't use it as often as I might make it sound.

Mostly it holds a special place because I can't stand the Peeping Tom feeling I get when I open a friends profile page in facebook. I like my privacy, though keeping this privacy makes keeping in touch with ppl a lot more work.

I keep a bit of a blog, some points about what i'm doing, funny shit that I happen upon or cause to happen upon other people. I keep it to stay in contact with people whom I've moved away from, which is somehing I've just learned about it. I've never told people about it while I've been living around them. Though while I was tending bar I rarely wrote at all, likely because the friends I made while in ireland don't often use the internet. They are more apt to use the post, which, as mentioned before, I love but never use.

Anyways, Cass, this is an invitation to read about my life, through my blog, if you so wish. This is not to say that a person needs an invitation to read it, just that sometimes it's nice to have one.

We'll talk again soon, and perhaps I'll drop in to see everyone before too long.

In the mean time, take care.

b

Oh, and I've made this a post on my blog, I hiope you don't mind. The link to the site is in my signature.

(this post also marks my first post via my mobile. neat, eh!)

--b

untitled

I am pretty tired so I'll have to make this short. In the background I'm listening to @neilhimself read from his book that I bought for Josie's September birthday, wrapped for christmas and still sits undelivered underneath a Christmas tree that has likely been packed up till next year.

Mands, we should get on that.

The book is called The Graveyard Book in which Neil Gaiman retells the Jungle Book story. I didn't get to the ending, because around November I was feeling guilty about reading a present I bought for an eleven year old girl and I was reading it myself, so I don't know how it ends and I don't know how similar it is.

There's a few hours of Neil reading posted on his website, perhaps I'll fit it in yet tonight.

Though I hope I don't.

Today was Reading Poetry, EN120. I liked it, but it'll be some tough reading. Not a lot of reading, but difficult.

I have to have Sense and Sensibility read by Monday.

Also a play, I am sure. I'll likely have to have a play read by friday.

So much for having thursdays off.

Take care, sleep well and I'll write to you again soon. Perhaps to tell you about the two hours we waited in a line at Wilfs, miss two periods of the Canadian Jr's only to take a bus back to the house, catch the third and over time periods while eating pizza.

Actually, that's pretty much it.

Hair's hoping

Here's hoping that sometime soon i figure out what the heck is going on with the font sizes on this page. when i looked back though it appears as though I've been an eight year old with his first box of crayons and a newly painted hallway.

Moving on to items at hand: today is day 1 of my twelve weeks of an english lit bender. I was hoping that before today I would have had a chance to get a hair cut.

For two reasons. One, because it's my first day of school and I want my new threads looking good underneath a new do.

And two: since I haven't had a trim in a while quite shortly i'll be looking a hell of a lot more frazzled and confused than I actually am. Soon after that I will be as frazzled and confused as I looked before, but my look will have spiralled towards, and out of control mind you, a state of frazz and confus that no woman, man or child alive has bore witness to.

I've class in thirty minutes.

I miss you.

b

Studenting, Part 3

well, first things first.

i am officially enrolled in four classes, all english, for the winter semester. only moments ago i opened an email from a professor who's been helping me along. it was the final link in the chain that had me going to school full time.

that is to say the final link besides the "not having a house" link, but that's a minor link because, well because i'll explain.

dave and i went to visit joel today.

we hadn't been to his new house; we had been invited a few times; we decided it was time to go.

along the way we stopped in university town for me to look at a house, which, as you may or may not know, is not really on the way to joel's house at all, which isn't actually joel's house but kim's but you haven't met her yet so it doesn't really matter.

but we did stop at the house, despite the detour, and i am a better person for it.

dave knows his stuff about the owning and renting of houses. i know my stuff about houses i don't want to live in. i also know my stuff about the signs people put in windows when they are trying to get people to visit their house because they have a room that can be rented out.

there were a few of these signs all around the house that had six people living in it.

tomorrow i am going to look at these houses to see if they want to be houses that Bird Morley lives in, or if they'll simply be houses that Bird Morley visited once for a brief moment.

mostly it was the leaves in the hallways, the dishes in all the sinks and the "i don't really know the other six people who live here, but i'm sure they're normal people" comment from the dude showing the room he had yet to move out of.

all in all it was a good day. joel is doing well living in his friend kim's house.

(this time i am going back to school for a third undergrad but perhaps for a teachable, i haven't quite decided)

Stickies: Nov 5

Stickies: Created Thursday Nov 5, 2009 @ 10:01:55 am EST

it's ten oclock now...

... and today i have to:

- laundry

- photoshop project

- work at five

- work out schedule

- pay rent

- renew gym membership

- clear out katey's laundry room/puddy walls

Stickies: Created Thursday Nov 5, 2009 @ 10:36:58 am EST

things i actually did..

- ate last of a bag of tostitos multigrain rounds

- watched sportscentre am

... ellen

... cp24 for a half hour

- text'd jon

... adam

... leanne

- watched it snow

- ate a bowl of Just Right

- took a poop

... read a few pages of Generation A

- played with photoshop

- turned off Road to Avonlea when it came on

- started a list for katey's christmas present

... but it's got nothing revolutionary on it.

- started writing to steve walkom

- emailed janelle about her schooling

- paid mastercard bill

moving frames

mostly what's happening in my life is boring, generic things. little items of everyday life moving in and out of the frame.

this week i started with a beard, now i have a moustache; but that is completely understood because, as everyone knows, moustaches come from beards.

my rent was due on the first, but i don't want to live at Victory Towers anymore because one of the old men that lives there smokes out his window and lies about it like a rebellious 14 year old.

he makes the whole house smell of stale cigarettes and misery.

time to move out.

not to worry though, a new place has been found. it overlooks the railway, has a room for me to move in and they don't smoke cigarettes in the house.

done.

(they do have a cat, and by they i mean the one guy. but there were no cat hair anywhere ... i don't see it to be a problem)

(although if you remember from the story that i didn't write, so you can't remember it because i didn't write it, about four months ago i nearly stayed in a house with a couple of cats . Geevee would've been a great roomie, but her cats showed their preference loud and clear. the tiny cat particles were too much for my asthmar to handle)

in closing, it seems my life is just made up on one little item of life moving in and out of the frame in the five minutes it took for you to read this far.

thanks for tuning in, and until i write again

i'll leave you with a few moustache pictures to warm you heart.

cheers,

--b

cliche

So.. I am writing again.

(I want to stay away from the cliche remarks of the time that passed while I wasn't writing, the possibility of false hope saying that I promise to write more, or anything else that might draw attention to this being my first post in a long time)

(a very long time)

In closing I am writing again.

Perhaps I'll explain why I couldn't, and wasn't, another time.

(that, my dear reader, is a teaser ad)

jurrasic'ly parked

Dennis,

I graduated university two years ago, spent some time traveling and working a few odd jobs around to keep me going; bartending and construction mostly. I'd like to involve myself in a creative environment, although I don't know how to begin. I've been looking into more school, perhaps another undergrad, or a college course, but I don't know what route to take.

Currently I have an Honours Undergrad from an Ontario University.

Do you have any suggestions? Or, perhaps, some internships coming available. You can reach me at this address.

I found your email on your website where it said your were the contact for the Toronto office. I did not, however, say that you were the CEO of the Toronto division; that little bit of information I found when I dug further into the Toronto branch of the website. I guess someone meant to put a contact, not the contact.

I am sure you'll get back to me though, I'm sure a busy man like yourself has lots of time to write an email back to a kid who found your email in a thirty second search of the corporate website.

I do hope to hear back from you soon, although I'm sure it'll be a bit longer since I am not actually sending it to your inbox but leaving it posted here for your staff to find in it's daily search of the networks.

If you do happen to stumble across this letter, I do sincerely thank you for your time. In my mean time, however, I'm going to sign up for a creative writing course.

Bird

Because in the end, it`s my floor

Mom,

I don't have much of a commentary today, but I do want to share a video from yesterday's episode of Q on CBC radio1. Jian Ghomeshi, radio host on radio1, interviewed Billy-Bob Thorton and ... well, see for yourself. You could listen to it, but seeing Thorton`s blank stares reminded me of an experience of my own.

you can read what John Paolozzi, of radio3, has to say here.

It made me uncomfortable, then I hiccoughed a small fit of laughter then I asked my computer if this was actually happening.

I might have jumped over the desk; although in all likelihood I'd've been sitting there, shaking wishing I had the courage to jump over the desk but thanking that the desk was there stopping Thorton from coming at me.



Last night a guy came into the bar, with some foreign substances reeking havoc with his inner bits. I told him, Johnny we'll call him, I told him Johnny, are you all right?

He stared at me, eyes wide like he opened a ninja turtle action figure on Christmas morning to discovered that it wasn't the gift he had always wanted but a demon device sent to steal his foreign substances.

Why? he asked me. Why do you ask that?

Oh, this is going real well, I thought to myself. And I could tell it was just going to get better. I shifted the bar chair I was propping my foot on to be more out of my path back behind the bar and more into the path of his to mine.

I just wanted to check in, I calmly sputtered out. nice one scaredy cat, just tell him he's not getting served.

So, are you going to ask me if I'd like drink, he asked.

ah, no. sorry johnny, i think you`ve had enough for tonight.

He made a move for my chair and in a flash I was back behind the bar and making for the local hockey team I been serving for most of the night.

Johnny sputtered and spit and made his way slowly to the door. Not that he was moving particularly slowly, but it was made slower when he stopped at everyone, gave them a thug hug, shouting about how sober he was and how out he was being thrown.

Then the hockey team, three of them celebrating a birthday of one of them, asked to buy him a drink.

In retrospect I should have got him a rye and coke and a shot of lime juice and no rye. People who have had lots to drink, or who have foreign substances floating around their bits, tend not to know the difference.

Like making a White Russian for a drunk guy, in a red hat, a week ago, with Worcestershire instead of Kahlua; but that`s another story.

I said no and Johnny left, no more angry than when he came in but that`s only because he had lost all range of emotion two hours previous.

The hockey team said I should have gave him one drink so they could talk him down which means I should have gave him one drink so they could mop the floor with him.

It was my floor. I think I made the right decision.

One guy in the group recapped the events each time a new member joined the group, each telling more descriptive than the next. By the end of the night we were heroes who tried, in vain, to save a damsel in distress.

Anyways, enjoy the rest of the day.

Your son,

--b

just because

Dear mom,

Mands and I have new email addresses. Well, additional email addresses. You can still reach us at our usually ones, although you can reach us at our new ones too! Here they are, in all their .Jpeg glory.

Thanks for reading.

--b

the new bird morley

Since I've arrived home, from Ireland, I've been moving around a bit. I took my time moving from Pearson airport to the other dublin. I made a road trip out to Alberta and toured around for two weeks, then took my time moving from Hamilton airport to Dublin again. I've been working in St. Ratford and crashing on couches of friends and family, and visiting and moving and visiting some more.

I've been having a pretty sweet time, people have been very accommodating and very patient and have never told me that I've worn out my welcome.

I hope I haven't, and I hope I never do.

I just got a new cell phone number. The old one I had, turns out, is long distance from St. Ratford which, as it turns out, is the latest city I am spending my days in. I am tending bar on most weekends, a shift or two through the week, and spending the other hours at my day job and sleeping.

Also going to buck and does, but that is another, less important to this story line, story.

So I got a new cell number, which I just told you, and if you been talking to me over the past six months since my arrival back in Can. I've likely told you this several times.

Let me explain.

I arrived in T.O and went to the skydome because i was scared of the big country that i no longer knew and needed to be somewhere that I felt comfortable.

So i went to the monument that I, and the world, knew best. There, as I waited for a good friend of mine, I purchased a SIM card and joined a one year commitment with Canada.

I wanted to pay-as-i-went, she wanted me to pay-more-than-i-should and I left the story paying much more than that.

I had my first Canad'ian cell number in over a year; a T.O. local number.

I moved around for about two weeks with a T.O. number, visiting friends and family, crashing on couches and not wearing out my welcome.

I arrived in the city, and picked up a local number.

Number number 2.

I was happy at home for about a month, got restless and decided I might like Edmonton so I got local number for there.

Number number 3.

Getting home two weeks later meant another local number, which would be one more than the last number number.

Today I was talking with rogers for the third time in three weeks. The first time I was on hold and got a call from Greg who was announcing the birth of his new baby girl. The second time rogers hung up on me and the third time I got a new number.

that makes five.

This one is a St. Ratford local because ... well, you can remember what I wrote above.

I sent out a mass text to 49 people in my phonebook. It has been a great day because I've heard from so many people who I haven't heard from in a long time. I think I might change my number every month.

"You do that anyway!" shouts drunk guy from the crowd.
"shut up, you. I have a blog, you don't. I'm funny, you're not. Shut the eff up and don't bother me at work."

Below are the responses that I've received today so far and I'll add to it as, or if, more come in.

Think of this as visiting facecrap.com

Enjoy,

--b

sent: 9 of 49 delivered
"I'm the new Bird Morley"

received:
Leanne: "Again!"
Mike C: "Pardon"

sent: "i said: I'M THE NEW BIRD MORLEY"

recieved:
Ms Maloney: "we don't want any"
*Greg: "finally, we r rid of the old BM!"

*who, as it turns out, isn't the same greg that just had his baby

Dave H: "and i am the improved wendel clark. lol"
Bre: "that was three of the weirdest texts i've ever recieved. lol. cant wait to meet the new Bird face to face. lol"
2525: "destination landline. reply E to rogers txt 2 landline msg in Eng"
2525: "destination landline. reply E to rogers txt 2 landline msg in Eng"
Uncle Mark: "Neils Bird?"
Mandy: "stop getting new numbers"
o - colter: "who Bird Morley"
aunt mary: "thx Bird. what area code is 226?"
heatger work: "Bird Morley?"

sent: "it's alright, i don't know my co-workers have last names either"

recieved
heatger work: haha mines [last name]. nice to meet ya lol"

sent: "likewise, see you on the weekend"

received late on March 30th:
bobbi p: "lol okay"
evan: "who is this? <.evan.>"
dinker: "what is that suppose to mean"
bob smith: "improved?"
craig: "what?"
Mike C: "Will the real Bird Morley please stand up?"
Greg: "let me know ahead of time next time u r in town"

*which is when i realized it wasn't the same greg who just had his baby

katie: "Just got your msg the Bird Morley. Congrats!"
eli: "are nothing"
eli: "not"
eli: "+1."
The Kid: "I did get your txt, but i didn't text you back because it is costly under my plan"

in person, late evening, april 1st
GeeVee: "did you send me a text saying `i`m the new Bird Morley`?"

Lost Prizes

I woke this morning and put on my best Irish National Rugby Jersey. A part of me wishes that I was heading to a match, another wishes I was living out of my rucksack and yet another is very glad to be behind a bar in southwestern Ontario.

Not behind a bar tonight though, tonight is an evening for friends. This means spending an evening at the pavilion in Dublin and green beer at a watering hole in Stratford.

Yesterday, the day after the snow has disappeared, I found my hurley ball which marks nearly four months to the day my having lost this very ball in the amongst the evergreen trees on the day before the snow came, and stayed, for the winter.

It was watery and soggy and happy to come home. I could tell by the way it sat quietly next to the heater in the entrance way, slowly warming up and waiting patiently for itself and the ground to dry and be back out playing in the sun and rolling in the dewed grass.

Have a wonderful paddy's day. I'll talk to you again soon.

slainte,

--b

K'Naan on Radio3

We are no longer having the technical difficulties that plagued us for about only fifteen minutes.

Perhaps I am a bit of a dramatic, perhaps I was over reacting by making a post about technical difficulties, perhaps I was over whelmed thinking that I'd never get the layout back to the way it was, perhaps I was lacking sleep or caffeine or those other things that I might have to have in order to think coherently and chronologically.

In the end everything looks the same, and everything is regular; at least in the world of my blog.

In the world outside the blog, which has be very much more alive in the last four weeks.

I have an old friend who is waiting patiently for his wife to give birth to his first born. The youngling was due last Saturday, March 7th, and appears to be very happy and healthy where he or she is.

I am also waiting patiently for the baby to arrive.

I went out for coffee with an old friend on Sunday, and to dinner that night at her mothers. It was a good dinner and it was nice to be off the farm for a short while, even if it meant being on another farm.

I've also developed a love for the cbc radio network. The music you've been listening to while reading this post is courtesy of radio3.cbc.ca and I think it will play every time you view this page. If it does, I'll take care of it and turn it into a link instead.

(which is what i've had to do)

This has been an update of the life of b. Stay tuned for some more entertaining reading in the near future. Also, Mands has learned how to create pod-casts; perhaps we might hear a bit more from her soon.

Technical Difficulties

Over the next few hours there will be a many things changing at salutmaman. I hope they are for the better, perhaps only time will tell.

In the mean time please feel free to search the words cartel, hypoventilation or pollok.

We Apologize for the Inconvenience.

*Update*
The operation was a complete success; that is to say stage one was. You're not going to notice anything right away because it'll take a day or so for it to make the switch. I hope to have something more for the unveiling of the upgrades, but alas, for now, I don't.

Sorry for being so vague, but I don't want to ruin it.

And really, in the end, it isn't that big of deal anyway.

(Although feel free to post if you know what it is.perhaps the first person can post something rediculas so that other people don't feel silly about being wrong. perhaps no one will post because no one is reading)

;)

damn

i called ireland again, hoping to talk with roy, and learned that roy was still not there and my irish accent was total rubbish.

i am quite sure i left the guy on the other end of the line wondering who the dumb american was and why he felt it necessary to mimic him.

damn.

(as a favour to a friend i'd like you to follow this link and vote for chris and tash)

missing

i called ireland today, more specifically to the university of limerick, the shelbourne pub and roy, and within moments my irish accent was back.

i miss it.

i chatted with finn for a few minutes, nolan for much more and left a msg for roy on his mobile.

i miss them.

monday i start a new job, basically an executive assistant at a construction company; although that's the name i am giving it, not my boss.

i want to enjoy it, but i want to travel too.

perhaps if i take trips out of the city i can couchsurf instead of stay in hotels.

The Queen and The Silver Fox

While I don't nearly have the tales to tell of new ally and walk ways explored, I do have a few experiences of walking an old one again for the first time in a long time.

As you know, since getting home I've been on the farm. Life has been quiet, a few chores here and there. While we haven't any free range pigs or chickens, and we don't have an old apple tree in the middle of the pasture that I can lay under with my blue jean overalls, no shirt and a bit of wheat grass to chew on and nap beneath my wicker hat, it does, in a more contemporary sense, remain relaxed.

Today I have the house to myself. I've set myself up with a pot of coffee, my guitar to my right, an address book and pad of paper.

I've been seated for three hours and thus far: no letters. Well, none hand written.

But that's beside the point.

I've got back into a bar I worked at six years ago. Working a few shifts on the weekend, making more cocktails than I can remember and at the same time
remembering how different, wonderfully different, it was to work in Cork.

But that's beside the beside the point.

The new bar is the same, essentially. Everything is in the same place it was, the equipment and tables and doors and windows. Even some of the semipermanent furniture, that is to say the regulars, hasn't changed. Just outside my peripherals the other day, well yesterday in fact, I heard two familiar voices ask each other if what they saw was a familiar face.

This familiar face, so they said, had changed a bit, but not overly. beard was grown, new glasses worn and hair cut shorter, but besides all that, the Queen said, I was still the same Bird.

With his english accent, he agreed and we dove into some old memories and quick recap of the missing six years. His grey hair, if he didn't die it, would be
red, or so he claimed. She didn't want to just up and move to Panama because she wasn't sure if she'd like it. I was behind the bar again. It seemed that in
six years nothing had changed at all.

It is a very odd feeling, following the footsteps of a me from before, and I have yet to figure out what it is I am learning about him.

If I figure it out, I'll let you know.

For now, I am awaiting winter to allow for Prince Tourism to ride through town and awaken Sleeping Stratford. I miss the transients, the movers, the
nomads and the travelers. They will come, and when they do I will welcome them with open arms.

So many signs

There were so many signs. I should have picked up on all of them. However hindsight is twenty-twenty and knowing now isn't knowing then.

He approached the bar, ordering a round of drinks. Jagerbombs all around. When just as he was about to order his pint of Guinness, he recognized me.

As he approached the bar I thought to myself how familiar he looked. Just a fleeting moment, a flicker of something, someone I used to know. Perhaps not well, but knew none the less. He ordered his Jagers and then, just as it hit him it hit me.

Craig Kelly I thought. At that same moment he shouted my name.

We shook hands and laughed. Nothing specific, simply thoughts of things.

you were in Ireland, weren't you?
sure, sure I was.
How's Nolan? Did you ever meet up with her
craig kelly doesn't know Nolan i thought. How do you know Nolan? asked I.
St. Columban Soccer stupid. Are you ever going to 'coach' us again?
craig kelly doesn't play st. columban soccer.

Things were making less and less sense, and yet at the same time it was making more and more sense. This old friend, whom I had worked with over the stretch of a few summers between semesters at his father's construction company, was confusing me, though only slightly mind you, more and more.

We'll have to catch up again later, I said. I've got to get back to serving up drinks. Let me buy you a pint though.

I poured off his Guinness, my fourth to be poured in Canada, and shook his hand again.

Good to see you again, Bird.
Good to see you too. I'll be damned if Craig Kelly hasn't changed a lot since I saw him last.

I was cut early that night, only half an hour since my old friend had come up to the bar. I poured myself a cola and joined him and his buddies at their booth in the bar.

These are the guys, my old friend said as I vigorously shook hands with one whom I had never met but was pretending to be old friends with.

We small talked again, for a little while, but it was when I asked about his sister, whom I had gone to elementary school with and whom had just had a child, that my embarrassment, which I had no idea was growing, peaked.

You think I'm a Kelly, don't you, said my friend formally known as Craig Kelly.
Not anymore, thought I.

I took a sip of my cola.

It doesn't bother me, said old friend. But I am not a Kelly, I'm a Culligan.
This is bad, thought I.

I took a sip of my cola.

You didn't know who I was when you bought me that beer, did you.
Well, that's not entirely true, thought I. I thought I knew you.

With an awkward smile I finished my cola.

Well Culligan, (because at that time I did not remember his first name to be Ben) I can't say that I have been more embarrassed. Ever.
It doesn't bother me, really Bird. It doesn't bother me at all. It still was great to see you.
It was great to see you too, Culligan, and I hope to see you again.

Though next time as Ben and not as Craig Kelly.

I left through the back door.

2009, Day 3

So here's the deal.

The holidays have come and gone, and I've survived them both. We got snowed in a bit too, and, again, we survived them too. New Years came and went, and, as you might have noticed the trend, i survived.

It seems that with all the planning and stressing and thinking and shopping and walking and drinking and watching of movies that no matter how much you plan to start earlier and earlier each year with everything that needs to go on to make a successful holiday season that it still only ever lasts fifteen minutes.

I am tired. I need a vacation, though from what I don't quite now.

I have started working a bit. It's for a neighbour just up the road who has a job in Toronto building a house. He called me up to give him a hand on a weekend job, a Saturday to be exact which I would have complained, what working on a Saturday and all, except that Saturdays only count for people who work. After he called me up for the weekend job he asked that I help out a bit more, and after I helped out a bit more I ended up more or less semi permanent.

These things just seem to happen that way, and it made for a nice end to the holidays to be back on a job site, with a bit of purpose in mind and some cash coming in to pay off what I have left to pay off.

There are a few more tales to tell about my western adventure, which I hope to get to at some point. Thank you very much for tuning in over the past few weeks even though there has been nothing to tune in to. There have been a few photo's posted up on my flickr, which you may not have seen since I made no mention of them here.

With that in mind I will leave you with one of my favourites from that collection.

Happy New Years All!

Dear Blogger.com,

You have a "javascript void error" message appearing on my page. I would like to thank you for letting me know the particulars of the problem, however in the future could you do one thing for me?

Fix it.

Oh, I don't actually mean that. It isn't that big of an issue. I don't really care all that much. I am, however, chuckling a bit at the fact that the message is there in the first place. You see, it might as well say "bake at 450 degrees", "PC Load Letter", or "Coalition Government" as none of them make any sense to me either.

Thank you for your effort though. I do really appreciate it.

In closing, I was simply wanting to add a new widget thingy to the side bar. I hope I get to soon.

--b

**i've taken the widget off this post because it was screwing up the count on my couchsurfing profile page. not to worry, the one in the side bar here will remain and is working just fine. thanks for everyone who has visited here. cheers, .. --b jan 14, 2009

Calgary, Day 1

So, this should have been posted (not to mention written) on Dec 4th as that was the day I actually got to Calgary from Banff (a post called Banff, Day 1 should have been posted [not to mention written] on Dec 2nd, but we'll talk more about that later).

The bus was quick and painless, as was my meeting a new friend. I did not have to know that she had come from Vancouver that morning, some eight hours ago, to know she was stir crazy and hungry for conversation. I was simply hungry and gladly accepted he offer of a clementine while she talked my ear off about nothing and everything.

There's not much of a story to be told as there wasn't much conversation being had. She was middle aged, married and full of small talk. I smiled, adding words like "yes" and "oh yeah?" whenever I could, which wasn't too often as she had been on the bus for eight hours and a me smiling and eating a clementine.

Janelle picked me up from the bus station, and there's no real story their either. After a hug and a chat we hurried off to see if the car was still parked in the space she was holding for the fire truck, should there have happen to be an emergency. It was a good idea since she was so close to the fire hydrant.

I have a feeling they would have appreciated it.

After spending most of the night trying to decide when it was we had seen each other last, or even written each other, we decided that it was a some summers evening some three years ago in some back yard of some other friend, who's name is Steph, where we listened to other friends talk about mortgages and leases and some other things that were as much out of our league now as they were then.

Laura came home later, from parent teacher interviews, and we had another good laugh over when it was we had seen each other last, or even written each other.

A quick search through me email inbox later would find that Janelle and I had last written each other in oh-six.

We went out for wings, which turned into nacho's and a burger, which, come to think of it, was never going to be wings in the first place, at a pub just up the road from their house, which was conveniently located just up the road from the pub. The server hit on the girls, which we were all very happy about because the girls wanted an in when it comes to patio season and I was very scared that he might have been hitting me. By the end of the evening he had stolen my glasses, called Laura a pretentious beach, asked which one was my girlfriend and still, somehow, we thought of him as a friend.

If you happen past the Ship and Anchor on 17th Ave in Calgary say hello to Kevin for me. Well, use Janelle or Laura's name just in case we were wrong about him.

Yellowknife, Day 1

So I arrived in Yellowknife last night. Leaving Calgary the pilot said getting into edmonton we'd see weather a little better than where were presently where, however failed to mention, let alone warn, the sorts of things we'd feel landing in the great white north.

Welcome to Thirty below, the chill through my nostrils said.
Too bad I never got around to finding that tissue earlier, I replied.
The cold of the north just laughed and said "you South-Western-Ontarians are all the same".

Mary and I, Mary being my aunt and youngest sister of my Dad's, had trail mix, Keiths and several hours of conversation. She got up for work this morning, I searched the house for Claw, the dog of a friends whom she is, and subsequently I am, babysitting, because 11:30, when I woke up, was high time he was let out to the back door.

**whistle**
Claw!
**whistle whistle**
ummm .. claw.

Back upstairs I trudge, fearing the worst and knowing I'd be the one cleaning it up.

hey claw, where are you little guy? I asked the upstairs, as if it, or the dog, could have answered me.

He was tucked into Mary's bed, snuggled into the mess of sheets.

Oh my, I thought. This is not going to be good.

hey claw, how are y-
BIRD!

As I stood in the room making the mess I had feared to find as a result of the Claw, I reflected on a few things: why the dog had replied, why Mary had not made her bed before going off to work and why Mary was not at work but starring back at me from a mess of hair and a splitting headache.

We cleaned up my mess, made some coffee and let the dog out so he could pee on the kitchen and livingroom floor.

Jasper, Day 1

I am on a computer that make it ound like i've got a tuffed up noe. Ret aurred I am quite healthy, it i mearly the keyboard I am uing.

You ee, the "" key doe not work. I could be hitting "ctrl+v" to pate an "" but I can't be bothered right now.

beide, it might be fun to ee if anyone can actually read what I write.

That i if anyone i reading at all.

Japer i beautiful and I am tired. There' been a great deal of hiking and walking and meeting of people, o much that I may need a vacation from thi vacation.

I can undertand why a peron could pend a lot of time here. there' mountian everywhere I look, elk every other block (or at leat a few reminent left by the elk) and floppy eared touque on every head. I'd pot ome picture of the area, except that I haven't taken any yet.

We went out lat night, which wa fun. My host went back to the place we were taying early and I tayed out which wa a good idea until I realized, long after cell phone had been turned off, that I didn't know where thi place wa that I wa uppoed to be taying.

I had, though, made ome friend who where more than happy to give me their couch for the evening; although that didn't change the fact that my ride tomorrow didn't know where i wa, not to meantion that tomorrow morning I would be jut a lot a I wa the night before.

Never have I been a lot a I wa lat night. In any other place I had been I had at leat looked at a map or learned the name of the main treet. I had been riding around in a car for the weekend, ever ince I'd arrived, and not paying attention at all to any direction. Even when I had been driving.

o thi morning I cleaned up my bedroom Rosco' living room and tepped out the door and choe a direction. All I could think about wa hoping my ride wa looking for me.

And then, out of nowhere, or eamingly nowhere, came a familiar little black ford. I had been found and wa going to be alright.

ince then I've got myelf a map and learned the addre of the place I am taying.

At the end of it, however, I had made ome great friend.

Edmonton, Day 1

Nothing much to be said about the city of edmonton. I drove into, and around, the city on thursday, and adventured a little. although the only real adventuring i did was to follow the main arteries of traffic and try to remember which direction south was.

also, trying to remember what the car I was driving looked like. something i didn't think about needing to remember until I stepped out of a shop that afternoon.

I had been picking up a trimmer, you see it was time to tame my beardness, which promted a few smart remarks from fellow shoppers.

"hmm." smiled a mom at the counter, behind me in line. "i don't need to ask who that's all for" making reference to the shaving kit I had assembled.

in the end i did find the car, luckily enough for the panic button, which scared the heck out of a young couple loading up christmas gifts in their trunk in the car next to the one who's alarm I had just set off.

I hid just out of site until they had moved on. boy was my face red.

(I've been in Jasper for the weekend, but more about that a little later)

I did not find any oiler fans to talk to.

Wild Rose Country

The good news is there is an unlocked internet network that i've tapped into. the bad news is i am hungry and don't know edmonton in the least bit.

i have been given my hosts care for the day as she goes off and makes money to buy things. i don't know how it is she has entrusted me with her manual shift car in a city i've been in for just over twelve hours without my glasses.

perhaps it was the bottle of wine she drank last night.

my flight was alright, as flights go. in recent history i have grown to loath airports, planes and attendents; they smelled, poluted and wouldn't give me all the coffee i could drink.

"sir, i would fill your cup up again if you'd just hold the cup still"
"I DON'T TELL HOW TO YOU DO YOUR JOB SO YOU'LL SURE AS HECK BETTER NOT TELL ME TO LIVE MINE" was my usual reply, delivered with more gusto than grammar.

However, yesterday I flew out of Hamilton International Airport and my, let me tell you about a delightful experience. First off the port goes by the name "Hi", so right off the bat I felt at home.

"Is that wall greating me, Dad?"
"Yes son, that sort of thing happens in the big city"

I suppose they don't need to have "Airport" in the name because, likely, if you are going there, you know that it is an airport. In fact that's included as part of the directions on the website.

"Read that again to me, Bird"
"That's what it says: turn on to highway 6, it's the one that's the airport."
"Is that it?"
"That's a farm"
"There?"
"a school"
"and that?"
"that's the farm again"

and another thing, they have these nice gentlemen in orange shirt who helped use a computer to check in. i could pick my seat, i chose an isle because the windows were already taken, i didn't want a middle seat and the computer had already given me an isle. i remembered the map of the plane that i saw on the Orange Man's computer screen so that i would know where i was going later on.

**memorizing sounds**
hmm. turn left at the wing, young child should be two seats behind me. good. i think i've got it.
**/memorizing sounds**

of course when i got to the plane i'd've been better off just checking the ticket as i would have noticed that the planes was parked differently, the child was an old man and the wings where the cockpit.

never the less i found my real seat, all red in the face, from embarrassment not the hieniken, with the help of a friendly couple who's seats i was in.

i nearly finished my book too,.which, as it turns out, i'd finished several years ago. it felt good to blow through a novel though; made me feel smart.

All said and done, I had a great time flying. I had my usual anxiety about flying and traveling but that passed, as it always does, and i just watched things unfold around me.

I'm off to explore the city of edmonton, maybe find out what their tim's cups look like and maybe, just maybe, meet an oiler fan and find out what makes them tick (like I know anything about baseball).

Bound to be bound somewhere

Today is the day: I am back on the road. I fly tonight to sunny Edmonton, back in time two hours, the good kind of time travel not the bad kind that makes you sleep for three days after wards, this is the good kind that keeps a person up for three days after.

I'm gone for two weeks, doing some job hunting, soul searching and friendship formations. I plan to hit Edmonton, Jasper, Calgary and Banff and what ever else I can see along the way.

I'll leave you now with a little song by a little Candian artist that's been in my head for about a month now.

Cheers,

--bbb

Ca Va Cool

When I was in high school the internet was quite young. I didn't know much about it, I still know relatively little about it, and we didn't have access to it at the home farm until midway through my grade eleven year.

One of my classmates said to me one day, as they do from time to time while we weren't reading with our free-reading time,

"I don't know why anyone really gets the internet. You spend a week exploring around, finding new things and reading jokes and eventually you run out of things to do. Every time you log on it is the same stuff. I don't get it, I just don't get it."

I really had no idea if he was right, wrong or even speaking to me but what I think I do know now is that the internet has a lot more stuff.

( A person could say crap, however I enjoy using stuff because it isn't specifically good or bad, it merely suggests an abundance of material.)

Today I have the house to myself, since my roommates have either gone to work, school or doctors appointments, and now that I have finished the chores and ate my breakfast I've sat down and done a bit of inspirational searching. A quick recap of my last few weeks and my next few weeks goes a little along the lines of:

cleaned some house; harvested some corn; drove some tractor; booked some flight to and from edmonton; spoke with some friend; searched some couch; watched some high school and college sport.

Also, today I have drank and brewed some coffee, and not necessarily in that order.

With my inspirational search I intended to plan my upcoming airtrip and to get my creative synapses firing before I turned around and fired them.

I wandered around couchsurfing and found a member named 'elephantson' which I found to be a funny name but didn't know why. I punched it into my favourite search engine and, after a few adjustments, found a blog and then followed a link to another blog and laughed a bit and the word play title and how my sister, Mademoiselle Murray, would also find humour in it.

The internet is full of wonderful stuff. Take that reading buddy!

(Now I've got to clean the kitchen before my parents get home from the doctors office)