Friday, April 29, 2005

ROS: . . . Do you ever think of yourself as actually dead, lying in a box with a lid on it?


ROS: Nor do I, really. . . . It's silly to be depressed by it. I mean one thinks of it like being alive in a box, one keeps forgetting to take into account the fact that one is dead . . . which should make all the difference . . . shouldn't it? I mean, you'd never know you were in a box, would you? It would be just like being asleep in a box. Not that I'd like to sleep in a box, mind you, not without any air -- you'd wake up dead, for a start, and then where would you be? Apart from inside a box. That's the bit I don't like, frankly. That's why I don't think of it . . . .

. . . . Because you'd be helpless, wouldn't you? Stuffed in a box like that, I mean you'd be in there for ever. Even taking into account the fact that you're dead, it isn't a pleasant thought. Especially if you're dead, really . . . ask yourself, if I asked you straight off -- I'm going to stuff you in this box now, would you rather be alive or dead? Naturally, you'd prefer to be alive. Life in a box is better than no life at all. I expect. You'd have a chance at least. You could lie there thinking -- well, at least I'm not dead! In a minute someone's going to bang on the lid and tell me to come out. . . .

. . . . I wouldn't think about it, if I were you. You'd only get depressed.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

da (breath) dadada da! da! daadada!
da (breath) dadada da! da! daadada!
da (breath) daaaaa da! da! da! da!


also, if one more person is going to germany, or if there's one more thing that comes up in my life that relates to germany, i'm going to have to take it as a sign that i'm to move to berlin.

post haste.

you can come and visit me, i'll make sure there's a space on the floor for you. heaven knows i won't be able to afford furniture to make your stay comfortable.

Sunday, April 24, 2005

i don't remember a substantial part of the only important conversation i had this morning. i remember it starting, i remember asking what i needed to know, i remember being back in my room afterwards, but i don't remember the meat of it all.

though i didn't even realise i'd forgotten it until i asked about it again 6 hours later, and got the reply, "i told you all this already, don't you remember?"

every time i figure i'm over this post-concussive disorder thing, i'm proven wrong. i suspect that most people think i'm being a hypochondriac about it all, like i'm trying to make up some sort of disorder to make excuses or make meself feel special, and i'm starting to think that meself -- the name the doctor's given it certainly sounds fake. except that i'll go for a walk and suddenly get hit with headaches and sparkle-vision and head-spinning and bouts of fatigue.

how the hell are you supposed to know when you're over something if it doesn't have any on-going symptoms to let you know that you're healed, though? i felt fine yesterday, but obviously i shouldn't have done as much yesterday and the day before, if everything came back today.

fuck medical science. i want to be fixed in a flash-healing by jesus' hand. or buddha's. or asclepius'. though i suspect it'll be easier to find someone in town named jesus than the other ones.

Saturday, April 23, 2005

three days ago, i had a seat booked on a flight to london.
obviously, i didn't go.
this isn't entirely a tragedy.

today, i could have (should have?) gone on a Peak retreat to somewhere just past Hope (ha ha ha).
again, i didn't go.
again, it isn't entirely a tragedy.

(alternatively, i could have been spending today at the burnaby campus, which i've done practically every day since january 7, without any exaggeration whatsoever.)

both of these things, when scheduling them, i knew i wouldn't end up doing them. i just didn't tell everyone else who asked about them that.

instead, i spent much of today sitting on the balcony in the sunshine, working on the laptop, while waiting for the roofer to finish his stuff. i had Discussions. i made perogies. i downloaded manitoba and caribou. i went to the fanciest formal i've ever been to, and realised that i'm quite glad i didn't bother with my high school grad, learned a bit of salsa, break-danced in the corner, boogied to the mambo, and snuck secret drinks from under the table.

instead, i spent the 20th picking up kick-ass prizes, spending time with jodi on The Beach, and having Deep, Dark Discussions with seansean about friends and acquaintances and hipsters and role-playing.

in the end, i have a feeling that whatever happened on either day instead of the Original Plan was more important in the grander scheme of things.

i'm still waiting for the Ultimate Happy Ending, though, despite the fact that i know that life doesn't usually play that way.

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

Sunday, April 17, 2005

hello, Honey Mustard House! though you don't look very yellow from up here.

1. i won't ever be a pro basketball player.

2. i need to stay away from work/forced socialising for awhile, because it'll save me from ending up in places feeling completely smothered by people.

3. i need to stop saying things For The Hell Of It, because sometimes people remember the careless sarcastic rambles and take them seriously.

4. i know more playful and fewer bitingly sarcastic people these days. i only noticed it when i was in the company of people who prove themselves by being one step sharper or one witty diss further than the rest. i don't know that either one's necessarily better or worse, but it's just funny to realise the sensibilities of those around you.

5. i now have some terribly nifty clothes.

6. i think that today is the first time in years that i've seen/spoken to my entire family within the span of a few hours. even more astounding, we played basketball together (those of us on this side of the water, at least). even more astounding, that includes both parents, not just me, david, and daniel.

7. it's sometimes surprising to notice where your traits (whether good or bad) come from. and then suddenly everything starts to make more sense.

8. i need a stud-finder.

9. not that kind of stud-finder.

10. punks never don't dead.* (learn english.)

* ooh so stealthy!

Saturday, April 16, 2005

7 reasons to love natasha:
- everyone thinks she's a zellers employee when we go there.
- she makes grown women yell for no reason.
- her house is filled with retro (tacky?) light-up things, including a magical beer mug.
- her cat is blind. blind makes for endearingly funny. we laugh with alfalfa. not at her.
- she says she's shy.
- sending MSN monkeys or kitties will make her giggle. and she'll keep sending them.
- cock shit.

(alright, the last two words are not hers per se, but she truly appreciates their meaning.)


Friday, April 15, 2005

when it comes to food, i'd like to think i'm the sort of person who, given the opportunity, would at least try anything presented to me. well, provided it isn't something like glue-mixed-with-broken-glass or something along those lines. but any sort of food that other people eat, regardless of how unusual it might be for the culture i was raised in.

i don't think i'll ever be able to eat a live squid, though.

saw Oldboy tonight. nearly gave it a miss, but ed told me that i'd never forgive meself if i didn't go. that even if i was on my deathbed, the correct choice would be to go see the movie.

he didn't lie. it's good. but i can't tell you much about it. except that it's a film about revenge. and it's korean. and it has a really fun soundtrack. and i would have been far happier paying to see that than sin city last week. so go see Oldboy

the doctor has told me that i'm supposed to clear my schedule and do NOTHING until i get better. when i told her that's impossible, she told me to talk to my prof and get my assignments deferred indefinitely (or at least make certain that they are right now) and to only do the bare minimum of work for the next few weeks, and absolutely no exercise.

but when you have to rest for other injuries, i have an idea what to do -- you broke your ankle, you don't walk/run/dance/jump for awhile. you sprain your thumb, you don't carry things. but if you bruise your brain, how do you rest that? no physical activity, sure, but what about thinking? is that brain exertion or not? how about reading? i'm very confused right now.

i was also told that one of the doctors is worried that i have an eating disorder. but that's another kettle of fish.

or squid.

Thursday, April 14, 2005

as arts editor, there's certain people who i'll remember as the people who helped define the job for me -- regular writers, amazingly good (but sporradic) writers, people who never wrote for me but would always just email me replies to the things i sent, that sort of thing.

there was one person who wrote to me fairly regularly. but usually not just to me. he liked writing, i guess, and was always writing some sort of rant or commentary on things that were taking place, and when i sent out my "stuff going on" emails at odd hours of the day/weekend, it wouldn't be too uncommon for him to write back somewhat conversationally, just to say hi because he was online and figured that i'd still be sitting at the computer then. sometimes he'd take up whatever i was offering for free tickets, sometimes he just sent articles unsolicited -- though those were sent to a general "friends" email list, though they were for publication, if i wanted. i used some of his articles -- some were well-written, some not so much -- and kept a bit of a contact with him, but never too much. at first i found it a little odd that he wrote to me like we were pals, but i got used to it, and suddenly he was just one of my arts writers that i actually knew a little bit more about, and when i got an email with his name on it, i'd be more likely to open that one first. because hey, i recognised it. he wrote to me when he was going to paris for a week, told me what happened, sent me some pictures afterwards (none of him, just of images that he'd captured on film).

towards the beginning of the year, he was supposed to see a show and review it for me -- tickets were all arranged and everything. production day came and went and i hadn't heard from him, hadn't been able to contact him. later on i heard that he hadn't been at the show, because the publicist sent me a message wondering what happened. when he did finally get back to me by email, he apologised, said that he hadn't been able to make it, figured that it would be alright, didn't say anything about making up the missed show/article. and it put a bit of a sour taste in my mouth, and afterwards i didn't jump at his emails as often.

he sent a few more mass emails out over the last few months, but not as many. today when i was doing a last check of the arts email before giving it up completely, i noticed an email with his name in the header. it was from a friend of his, with an announcement that he'd killed himself a couple weeks ago, and that the memorial service would be happening this weekend.

and it's strange. i never really knew him. i never spoke to him over the phone, and i have no clue what he looked like. and yet i feel sad. sad that i was sent a message as a "friend" of him, because i didn't know him, and maybe the email was just sent to everyone in his contact list, but even so, maybe much of his contact list is made up of people like me -- outlets for publishing his work, not necessarily people he knew. maybe not. probably not. but you still sort of wonder. sad because we did send email conversations back and forth every now and then, and there was a connection there of some sort nonetheless. sad because i haven't had the experience of someone i actually know personally dying. and for the first time, it's not just a headline or a plot twist in a film, it's a Real Life event, and it's someone that i won't ever get emails from anymore. sad because if it had been an email from him today, i wouldn't have cared as much, because it's just another mass mailing from him. sad because i didn't care how he was doing, really, until i found out he was dead.

i don't know that i'll go to the memorial. i actually don't think i can. but a part of me wants to, just to get an inkling of who he actually was.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

it's a rare thing to have a picture of me that i like. so i'm allowed to preen this time.

aki is amazing, it's true.

Sunday, April 10, 2005

my internet has shrunk.

for my next performance, i'll fall. many times over. because i have made falling and hurting myself into an art.

you laugh? well i'll have you know that today i had an international audience appreciating my talents! bet most of you can't tout that, can you!

Saturday, April 09, 2005

we were going through yearbooks this evening and came across a picture of mr stewart, and remembered why we liked him. he was funny, he was sarcastic, he could seem nasty at times, but really, he was truly nice, kind, interesting (and interested), and understanding. and helpful. very helpful. arranged for me to talk with ex-students of his when i was trying to decide what to persue in high school in plans for uni, back when i figured i'd end up becoming a science major.

i miss physics.

at any rate, that was that mr stewart. and i hope he's doing well.

the most recent mr stewart, however, has just become the downer to tonight. he acts funny, tries to be interesting, thinks he's helpful and understanding, and seems "nice" and/or "kind". but ultimately, i don't think too highly of him at all. and the email i just got from him sorta sets that in stone. giving me an unfairly low mark and implying that i'll be getting a low mark for the class, but that said prospective low final grade could have been much lower, except that he realises that i had "some difficulties" this semester doesn't make him sympathetic. doesn't even make him nice, considering that i provided doctors' notes for things and asked to perform later on, when i would be closer to being completely well. and i certainly didn't purposefully wound meself to get out of class.

or maybe i did. i probably did. i'm such a negative eeyore, it's true.

but i'm a negative eeyore who got home-made indian food for dinner (finger food! no utensils allowed!) and saw friends she hasn't seen in ages. and got free popcorn three times over through simple deceit and trickery. and decided (with aforementioned friends) that instead of paying to see a film next time we do a film night, we'll put the money we would have spent towards making a short film. it'll prolly be a more entertaining waste of our time.

maybe we can get the original (and cooler) mr stewart to star in it.

Thursday, April 07, 2005

so the song starts like this: it's really quiet, but every now and then there's a little scurry of sound, something like *this*. there's not much to begin with, and it's all rather soft -- it's a noise recording, see, no actual, musical tune to speak of, just a collection of soft sounds, scratches, taps, nothing recognisable to the human ear.

so anyways, the sounds start coming quicker and quicker, getting a little bit more louder every time, and as the sounds build, i'd start to find the momentum to push myself up, but even so, it's still pretty hard to make it up. but soon you'd reach a sitting point, still slouching a little, but the sounds still build and push you and push you until you're suddenly pushed to your feet. it's not necessarily stable yet, you're still waiting for everything to get going, but you're up, you're trying to make it! and by then, the music's suddenly built itself up into a frenzy.

the piece is actually by a duo from montreal, who go by the name skoltz_kogen. i found out about them when i was volunteering at the new forms fest last year, driving people to and from the airport. and two of the artists i was supposed to meet were these two, from montreal. when i did a bit of reading up on who they were, i'd decided almost immediately that i'd fall in love with them -- they were from montreal and doing sound art, how could i not? but when i saw them perform live, that was when i truly fell in love with them.

their performance was made up of two screens -- one here, and another here, big giant ones side by side -- and they each sat at their terminal, with mixing boards and computers at hand. each one controlled a different screen, and they had spent a couple weeks in prague going around and recording video images as well as sounds, to put together for this one piece. the images and sounds would sometimes sync up, sometimes be a little bit off, mixing between the video footage and computer graphics, but the sounds, oh, the sounds were amazing. so loud, so intense, pouring over me like rapids, with so much energy and such volume, a performance that so many people might hate. i sat there in awe the entire show, and afterwards, i knew i was in love. so much so, that i had to buy the cd.

so when i got home that night, of course, i wanted to listen to the disc, hear everything over again and relive it. but it was late at night, and you're scared to have anything too loud. so i popped the cd into the stereo, and sat there with my fingers on the volume controls, because i didn't want it to suddenly blare out and wake up the entire house. but i couldn't hear any sound.

i turned it up a little, but still couldn't hear much.

i turned it up again, and started to hear something.

i waited a bit, didn't get any louder, so i turned it up some more, cautiously.

i sat there for the whole cd, constantly worried that all those deep, heavy sounds would suddenly come and wake everyone up, but they never came. and when i finally reached the end of the cd, i realised that all those sounds they'd recorded in prague, they were still here, but sampled differently, processed differently, and performed differently. it was still the same piece, but every single time it would be performed, it would be completely different -- much like this dance.

so, like i said, i was in love with them and their music. so of course i had to try to share it with people. but how do you convince people that noise can be music too? so i went through the cd and found the smallest track, and it just so happened to be the one i wanted to be performing to now. and it just so happened to contain a lot of the main things i liked overall, so it was perfect for spreading around to friends. and i sent it to people over the internet and i played it for friends in the car, and i did all i could to get people to listen to it. and half the people would look at me strangely and ignore what was playing, continuing on with their conversation instead, but some people would like it. rare, though. tragically. that's why i wanted to be playing it today, to do my duty and spread the word!

but i can't. i don't have the disk.

so anyways, at this point, the music's still going in a frenzy. there's scratches and driven beats -- nothing quite rhythmic, but steady -- and lots and lots of bass, but suddenly it just stops! ...and now you have a rhythm because there's this *tscht* sound that starts to play. *tscht* and it comes at a pretty *tscht* regular interval. *tscht* and as that noise *tscht* continues, it begins to *tscht* calm the dancing down, *tscht* bringing everything back to the centre *tscht*, where everything starts to *tscht* come into balance again *tscht* as a low hum begins to grow *tscht*. the noise still *tscht* continues as i begin to sink *tscht* to the ground, until *tscht* it finally stops, as i reach the ground.

and as the hum begins to fade away, everything is relaxed once again, everything has gone back to how it was, and i just lie here once more, waiting as the music ends.

and that's pretty much it.

i'm SFU's new members' services officer, starting may 1. there was drama involved even in today's count, drama that shouldn't have happened, and didn't need to become as tragic as it did in some ways, and that doesn't need to be brought up here. so we'll leave it at that. so huzzah! though even if i didn't win, 1031 people still voted for me. even if 1032 people had voted for someone else, that's still 1031 who chose me out of 5 other people. one thousand thirty one. that's a huge number. so bizarre. i don't even know that i know one thousand people personally. i doubt i do.

but they know me.

among others.

the wittiness that was planned to go in here today has been postponed indefinitely. it's 3:35am. i should be asleep.

and now, time for the theremin solo!

yes, again. there's never too much theremin.

Monday, April 04, 2005

now is the time for crazy, dissonant theremin solos.
now is the time for red crayons and giant pieces of paper.
now is the time for bobbing your head to the manic beats behind the solos.
now is the time for strange interpretive dance.
now is the time for skin-tight, avant-garde, retro costumes.
now is the time to be that strange person who stands out without noticing anyone around them..
now is the time to be one of the many, surrounded by all the others just like you.
now is the time for inanity, insanity, and nonsense.

now is the time i wish i was actually asleep. goddammit.
1. i missed kenten's birthday. so HAPPY BIRTHDAY KENTEN! and congratulations on a new computer.

2. no less than 5 (five) people commented that i look well today. i would suppose that this is a good thing. i feel better than i've felt in at least a week, for whatever that's worth.

3.a) karaoke is an brilliant waste of time. in the sense that it's great, it's fun, and it does waste a lot of time. it's brilliant.

3.b) now i'm a believer. not a trace. no doubt in my mind.

4. strip poker has more rules than i expected that it did. and i think that being allowed to bet continuously until you finally want to give up or fold is a far more entertaining way to go. how else would i have won the growing island off the coast of iceland, AND diego's soul, AND karl's toenail clippings?

5. lists make things neat.

6.a-i) it's a funny feeling to realise that you feel (and possibly are) better off in some way than someone else. especially when it's someone you thought was better than you for a long while. it's not that they aren't necessarily leading a fulfilling life that makes them happy. it's just that . . . in some way, if there was a quick measurement in some aspect of your lives, if you could measure attributes, you realise that you'd come out on top. even if it's only by a bit. of course, chances are they'd beat you out in some other way in the end. but if that value isn't as important to you, does it really matter?

6.a-ii) in the same vein, does it matter if you're better than them in some category, if that category doesn't matter to them? not really, it's true. but if it's something that you always thought they trounced you in, it's still a strange thing to realise you've overtaken them. or maybe they were just never good at it to begin with. oh! sarah! speaking so vaguely! everyone's confused and no one cares! maybe that's the point.

6.b) if anyone reading point 6 (six) thinks i'm talking about them, you are WRONG. i'd never post that here if i remotely expected them to read it. and i am most definitely not talking about anything even slightly related to the recent politics game or the people involved in it. so there.

7. i still miss prague. but manageably so, now. if i were there right now, though, it would be 11 a.m. and i'd be in petrin park, near the apple trees, writing to chris, because i still haven't done that yet. and listening to music. but it's 17 degrees and sunny there right now, as opposed to our miserable expected high of 10 degrees and rain. when will summer come?

8.more of my things are finding a home in the honey house. this means i have more space to move around and feel organised. this means i'm closer to making this place fully mine, decoration-wise. this means that the barbie bondage picture from matt's already up on the wall. this means that mona lisa's up in the hallway. this means sarah's a happy camper, to be living in a house where tacky is wonderful. martha stewart would be horrified.

9. i really don't like medication. i hate seeing people under its influence even more. it makes me feel sick inside. i think it's the fact that some little pill or serum has enough power to knock you out or make you act strange or just . . . make you not you. it's not quite as bad as discussing medical ailments at times, but close. we can have a discussion about anti-depressants and how they're good for some people some other time. today, i just hate all medicines.

10. it's 3:17 now. before sunday, it would only be 2:17 and i'd still be getting 5 hours of sleep before i wake up. whoever is enforcing this whole time-change garbage should be done away with. because i'm still not sleepy, but i have to be up in 4 hours, nonetheless.

BONUS. sarah and daniel are the rockingest rock stars there ever were and will be. if we charged you to listen to us, we'd be rich. but we're sympathetic rockstars -- we know you'd never be able to afford to pay what our talent is worth. instead we'll just be cool. and rockin'. and let you enjoy us for free.