The Real "Strange Friend"

[Friends,

There was a post up a few days ago that discussed the difference between fb and cs and why i like the one more than the other.

It may or may not have made sense to you. It shouldn't have because it was a work in progress that was posted by accident. If it did make a little sense, it appears that I was on the right track.

This time I've posted the real one, the one I meant to publish a few days ago. It was saved on my desktop as blah blah blah, I'll stop blathering on and let you get to the story.

Perhaps on another occasion I'll share an edited version of why cs is different to fb. Until then, enjoy.

--b]

There was a woman, she pulled up next to us. Driving a Saab or something. Chatty, early forties and driving by herself. We had pulled in to the gas station only five minutes earlier and were topping off our tank. It was taking a long time because we had run the tank nearly to empty.

“Were you worried?” Kate asked, politely, knowing full well that I was.

“Not worried per say,” I replied “mostly I would rather have had take in scenery be more important than find fuel now.”

She smiled because she knew the truth, because the truth had be painted on my irritated face for the last 80 clicks. The truth was I really would have liked to have stopped at any of the beaches along the way, or even glanced out the windows and admired the quaint houses and picturesque horizons, not curse every small town for their lack of fossil fuel. Each time the car made a ding, sounding off another twenty km less in the tank, my face had turned a new shade of white.

I also would have liked to stop at the cute little beach we came across soon after the gas station, but that didn’t happen because I forgot to pack the sunscreen and there were no stores near us for thirty minutes in either direction. (One of those stores was the gas station we were currently at, though at this time we don’t know we were out of sunscreen.)

The woman who had pulled up next to us got out of her Saab and asked if we were nearly done.

“I’d rather not pay for the premium you see I don’t think it’s worth it.”

I hadn’t noticed there was a difference, I had just lucked upon the cheaper side of the pump.

She spoke quickly and smoothly and mostly to herself and it took me a good l o n g moment to realized that she hadn’t said diesel.

“But oh look at that I parked the car on the wrong side and my tank is on the other side I’ll just quick turn it around and be out of your hair.” She said in the same breath as the one she used to confidently climb into the driver’s side back seat of her Saab.

We looked at each other in a fashion that bewildered doesn’t quite cover because neither of us could quite piece together what had happened. Luckily the back window was down or I wouldn’t have heard her say “it must be one of those days.”

She smirked a smirk that said it must be one of those days, and Kate smirked a smirk that she knew we would share again later during the retelling of this moment.

Unabashed, the woman climbed out of the back and into the front and in between said “I think you might want to pull out of the way because I know you know that neither of us know were I’ll put this car if I start driving”.

Kate asked if there was anything I needed from inside the shop. I might have asked for sunscreen, but we didn’t know any better.

I pulled the car up, Kate paid for the fuel and we left our strange little friend to go about her adventures.

Encore a sud-ouest l'ontario

Salut maman,

I am back in the (home farm) area. Extremely tired. I'll write more tomorrow.

Good night,

--b

the illusion of 2x4's

My Dear Town,

A town is empty the first time I move through it. I might argue that it is empty long after the first time I move through it and doesn't become not-empty until the last time I move through it. The buildings are all propped up like a village out of an old western movie; each supported by a couple of 2x4's and wooded stakes. They create the illusion of a town in the middle of a province that up until six weeks ago had little significance in the small universe that I occupy.

I am the most important part of that universe. Since I don't see myself in the stores they remain a one dimensional illusion.

Days turn into weeks, as they tend to do on their own accord with no guidance from anyone else. Quite often we miss this happening, try to stop it or slow it or effect it's progress by drawing attention to the speed at which they are progressing, first the days then the weeks and eventually we surrender and, under the influence of hugs and tears, we move once more through the not-so-empty town and the no-longer-empty buildings.

Nameless intersections transform into meeting places. Campers who had left campus found other campers who had left campus for what was, until this place, an unknown reason. Dark side-streets become the homes of small micro brew pubs, farmer's markets and remarkably delicious vegetarian restaurants.

Cold concrete structures are for shouting <<'parkour'>> and jumping over, sandwich shops are where I watch Poo-Bears eat mc-franken-burgers with gusto and that red brick building is a place where Allstars throw up. Twice.

It has been wonderful Exploring you, Moncton and I am happy to be part of your universe. Take care of your not-so-empty self, I will see you again soon.

--b

a Car and a Coast

Salut Maman,

Here is a picture of Kate and I before we head out into the world and explore Moncton, NB, and it's surrounding friends.

One of those friends is Hopewell Rocks. I was at his place a few weeks ago but his basement flooded and we had to leave rather abruptly. We hope the timing is better this time around.

The other friend is a coffee shop who's name we don't know yet. Nor do we know where she lives. We'll let you know when we find it.

We are on our way to pick up the car, then to find the coast. Wish us well.

Sainté,

--b & K

(I am in red)

aide, svp

Cool

Mom,

It is so much easier to lay in bed than it is to get out of bed. I don't think it's cause I'm lazy, at least I hope it's not cause I'm lazy. I think it's cause it takes me so long to gain consciousness in the morning and I can easily be convinced that staying in bed is the better idea.

I hear two voices chatting about the pro's and con's of plus de dormis or réveiller.

I'd be curious to find out where the dormis voice gets all his energy so early in the morning. Perhaps I'll ask him, that is if I can get a word in edgewise.

Waking up later than I planned always makes for a rushed day. I wrote a test today and I did well, at least I probably did. I had planned on reading a few more notes in the morning, but Dormis won again.

Damn you, Dormis.

In class, after the test, my patience were wearing thin on account of Blonde thinking that it was his comedy hour and his show to run.

Deep breathing. Deep breathing.

"He's just being a mid-teen, that's all" I repeat to myself over and over and over again. At one time I was just as giddy, and in all likelihood I am still just as giddy and in all likelihood I crack the same type of jokes when I am in a situation that makes me uncomfortable and I don't know how else to act.

After all he is just a kid. He's just a kid who thinks that everyone needs constant comic relief and that he's just the kid to provide it. He's a Chandler Binge.

My patience wore thinner.

"You're wasting my time and the class's time" my inner me said. Suddenly I was a vigilante, fighting for the entire class. My god I need to relax. Deep breaths encore, tout le mond deep breaths.

Don't lose your cool. as soon as you lose you're cool you've lost.

I like it when my inner voice quotes Dad while sounding like Dad.

(By the way, can you tell him happy fathers day for me?)

I didn't lose my cool. Class ended and we all went for lunch. I ate quietly and quickly and worked on some homework. Then I was late for the activity. The activity was painting.

The activity was painting. Painting.

I like painting. I like painting when I am at home. I like painting all sorts of stuff. I don't like painting at french camp if we aren't going to learn french, nor do I like getting a fois jaune for being late to a ... breath ... to an afternoon activity.

I just about lost my cool. Then I painted a mustache on the person next to me.

I found my cool again.

Then I got a hug from a camper. I needed that hug. I forget how great unexpected hugs feel and how much we need them everyday, tout le mond.

Despite Dormis, I found my cool again. I am glad to have it back. I need to be able to recognize that there isn't anything happening that I can't cope with. That is to say if I am frustrated it isn't the event that's frustrating, it's me that's frustrated with the event. I can cope with anything.

The painting turned out to be a fun activity in the end. Mine turned out really good.

Miss you lots,

--b

Where I'm at

Mom,

I can't remember if you asked for my address or not. I am pretty sure you did, but if you didn't then you can disregard this message.

This is where
the address
would go if it
were personal
message to
my mother
Moncton, NB
J2T A3K

I don't really think you'd need to put all that on a letter. I am sure my name, the name of the university program, and Explore Program written somewhere on it would be enough to get it to me.

or not get anything to me if you didn't ask for the address.

that is all. i am going to bed now. i am sorry that i've been writing only in french recently. I hope Mandy's been helping you out with it, or that you've been learning a bit along with me.

talk to you soon.

--b

Tu es comique, ha ha!

je n'ai pas de pantoufles. Mon pied a froid la nuit. Puet-etre, c'est bon d'avons froid aux pieds, mais je ne sais pas parsce.

je n'ai pas de pantoufles.

j'ai des bas, beaucoup des bas. Mes bas gardent mes pied aux chaud, mais je pensce que les pantoufles sont plus élégants.

mes mains sont jalouses parsce ils n'y pas de gants plus élégants mais je ne cherche pas pour des gant pour mes mains.

some poetry

S'enflammer

J'ai enflammé ma soeur
et sionner le feu
quand elle déborde
et me mord



Le lune

la lune est fait du fromage
peut-etre
je n'ai pas visiter
donc ca deveait etre fait du fromage
je ne sais pas



Le Sourteneur

"ou es mon aregent?"
ill dit avec patience
elle pleure un petit peu
parce que sa patience
n'est pas

English Practice

Dear mom,

Here at camp we've entered the third week an are quickly approaching the midway point. This morning my class were asked several questions in order to test our oral ability.

J'as pence I did okay.

Tomorrow we write another test that will test our writing ability. I think I could have made the previous sentence work better, but I am out of practice. Since I am not overtly worried about English at this moment I'm simply going to move on.

In order to prepare for the test I decoded to write this post, and so far it's done nothing to help me. I've used three french words in what is likely the wrong tense and I even think I spelled the one wrong.

What will likely help me more are the stacks of journal entries i've been meaning to input. I've written one for every day I've been here and I plan to set them to post automatically over the next few days.

So, ah. Stay tuned for that.

I hop you are well, and make sure to keep dad out of trouble.

Love,

--b

je pense

je pense j'ecrise mon petit journal après le corrections de ma professeur

le 3 juin, 2010,

Je pens que c'est pluvieux mais j'ai oublié mon imperméable et mes gants. Peut-etre j'achetaerai un autre imperméable et les autre gants mais j'ai oublié ma portefeuille. C'est dommage. Je m'en veux!

not long boarding

I fell and hurt myself. I am pretty sure I am okay, but I did fall and hurt myself.

The day after the cat started taking not-valium I started long-boarding with a helmet. I did a few little hills, went around the block a couple of times and put it back inside. Once I tumbled off the board onto the front lawn of a lady a few houses down from the Cat's house.

For letting me crash on her lawn I helped her unload her patio set.

The board went away and the Cat and I went back into the house to jump on all the furniture and pee on DVD's and hiss at people who came in the door.

Well, we would have hissed at people if anyone came in the door or if the cat hadn't been doped up. As it turned out it was just me peeing on things and running wild around the place.

The Dog wasn't sure what to do so she just kept doing what she was doing which wasn't much at all.

Later on that same fortnight I started long-boarding sans helmet, which is a whole lot worse of an idea than it sounds. Although had I the chance to do it again I likely still wouldn't have put on a helmet, but took that helmet and put it on my right elbow. It would make a lot more sense than the cover up I am now applying daily.

Bruises are hard to hide, really hard.

The good news is the board did not get wrecked, it was safely returned to the owner. My elbow is terribly pissed off at me though, and tells me this whenever it can, although it doesn't get that chance very often.

It is getting that chance right now, though. So this is the end of this post.

I am doing well and no longer studying long-boarding. I've decided to put that energy into learning french, it is a whole lot safer.

Talk to you soon.

--b

inaudibilities

Dear Mom,

I went to a dance club on Friday. It was exactly what a dance club should be. It had a big screen where the dancers where told how to dance and what to drink and fast to drink said drinks.

They were told to drink them very fast.

Apparently they were told to dance poorly, dress scandalously and yell inaudible things that likely shouldn't be said at all.

I didn't hear the big screen people tell anyone that, but then again I wasn't watching anything all that closely.

What someone should have told the Dance Bar was that it wasn't a Dance Bar, it was a Country Bar. Or perhaps someone should have told the sign guy and the guy who dressed the big dudes at the door and the little girls with the quickly drinkable drinks that it was a dance bar, not a country bar.

That way they could have avoided the embarrassing wide brim hats, corsets and Rockin' Rodeo sign out front.

They could have also avoided the disco ball saddle.

That's right, a disco ball saddle.

I think the people at this camp should start using those Big Screen people to teach us students French, because the people at the bar that night sure got the drink-a-lot-of-drinks-fast message. The big guy with the shaved head sure did, I think he even got the message a few times. I think he even started on The Message while he was shaving his head, because he left a bit in the middle that turned itself into a feux hawk. He then got The Message twice more at the bar and decided to pick a little guy up and yell inaudible things at him that shouldn't have been said at all. The little guy wasn't saying too much which I am sure was because he thought Big Guy might rip his little arms off like a Wookie.

A Wookie is what the big bear thing from Star Wars is. He sounds a bit like a loose fan belt.

The night ended soon after that, and appeared to end well. The little guy kept his arms and Big Guy was finally overcome by the bouncers. They had been outside removing a few other guys where were just as good of listeners as the big guy was.

Perhaps even better.

Bonne Nuit Maman,

--b

et une autre thing

Salut Maman,

Fun Fact about Twenteens #15,

They ask odd questions at the oddest times that exist in no other realm of reality than their own.

...
"Oui, je suis vingt et un." étudiant un
"Merci et enchanté." étudiant deux

"Excuse me. This is really off topic, but what do the green and blue garbage bags mean?"

The disbelief must have been written across my face because Alternative met my gaze with one of agreement when I drifted away from Twenteen's direction generale.

That just happened? I mumble. Alternative shrugs her les épaules the way they must in l'alberta. Prof cocks her head to the side come a confused chien might, but quickly regains her composure and patiently answers the question. I asked myself if I was in a grade one class.

Once Prof settled the confusion surrounding the Moncton recycle program we went on to recite l'alphabet.

Later, unprovoked, un étudiant from un autre salle de classe would describe mon Prof as having kindergarten teacher qualities.

I smile because I don't know how to agree with her en fransaise.

--b

Sent avec amour from Nowhere, Nouveau Bruswick

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