*sighs* Ray hasn’t answered nor returned any calls yet, but that’s alright. I’m getting things together. Tip-toeing around as to not wake Adrian. I feel lucky that I’m even awake. I was up and too awake until crashing finally somewhere just past 7 this morning. Not packing or anything actually constructive, rather I was suddenly in serious conversation with some people back east. Unexpected conversation. Very. It’s hard to talk about certain things over the internet. Body language and nuance just get lost in the letters. Plus, well – certain topics are just going to keep you up at night, no matter how much sleep is needed.
There is an idea slowly germinating. Tendrils of thought are unfolding into a list for a movie night we simply must have. For a welcome to the neighborhood at my place? I haven’t any gear at the moment – television or media player, but this might change during the week.
Mostly childrens moves, but of the sort that you never hear about anymore. Animation only, perhaps. The Point, The Phantom TollBooth, The Last Unicorn. Perhaps even Yellow Submarine.
Any other suggestions?
I’m thinking dark, should-be-nostaligia but aren’t really. Toss in something near the end that doesn’t quite fit, but should, like Delicatessan.
It’s just the time for it apparently. I’ve been searching for the only hip-hop I’ve ever truly liked and tonight I found it again. The Disposable Heros of HipHoprisy. I remember when it came out, in.. 1990/1? and I recall clearly how utterly utterly I loved it. In retrospect, I must have been a rather odd eight year old. Listening to it now, I like it even more.
I was floored, utterly floored when I found out a SanFran fellow I knew was the bass on the album they did with William S. Burroughs. Keith MacArthur, wherever the heck he is now, then member of the Will Bernard 4-tet. Not that I even know if they’re still around. I think they’ve moved on to become Motherbug. Why didn’t I just let you give me that disc when I was there. Stupid honour. There’s an urge to throw everything off, slough my plans, things and people, and go track them down. Track all of the people involved and throw them into a studio at gunpoint. “You WILL make more!!”
I didn’t realize how much time spent with those fellows really truly meant to me until tonight. Just moments in time, preserved in the amber glow of being happy in a time I never was. How rare and precious. I’m sitting here with the Heros album sitting at remotely queued and not even paying any attention. All my thoughts are on Canada Day from years ago. Chris, then soundman at the Starfish, in his orange jumpsuit and the clothing label fastners through his ears. Keith sitting out back the house with me trying to explain to me I had a style, even if I didn’t see it yet. Micheal laughing because he knew I needed to see Run Lola Run and it hadn’t arrived in Canada yet. It’s funny that I don’t remember Will at all, except as a man in the background, when really he was the glue.
Anyhoo – the sun has come up, the sky is pearling gray. I should sleep.
It’s 1 in the morning, so what am I doing? Cleaning out my in-box of course! Of Course! Houseclean before the move. Or something. How improper, beginning a sentence with ‘or’. Following it with sentence fragments. How low my english. Anyhoo *tangent tangent*
I came across an excerpt from a letter in the midst of tossing out old poetry. I love my ghodmum.
Grading hell. Grading hell.Grading hell.Grading hell.
I graded 70 exams yesterday. That means I read seventy answers about the postmodern and poststructuralist positions on the possibility of floating signifiers.
My family officially rules.