Walking across the street in the rain, there’s someone in front of me with a spiderman brand popsicle, the blue eyes two wan gum-balls that look like they were manufactured years before I was born. “Where did he get that?”, I wonder, searching my mind for available corner stores and coming up with nothing. Downtown east side, one block from the epicenter, I try to imagine what it tastes like as I step over a gray man slumped wetly on the sidewalk, dead aside from his lonely muttering.
I have two job interviews today, one with an e-music company I’ve done temp work with, one with Kokoro Dance, a butoh group I deeply admire. I’m looking forward to both of them, as they present vastly different challenges, and can’t help hoping I do well at both. It would be the greatest of blessings to have even one regular job. Living freelance has been hurting, especially considering how much flaky management I’ve had to deal with. I want it to be over with. I’d like a desk again, please and thank you.
In more good news, That Mike called from somewhere between Chicago and Madison yesterday, (on tour with Buckethead again), sounding so sorry he forgot my birthday that the earth might swallow him whole. It blows my mind sometimes, how nice he is. There’s a depth to his sincerity far past anything I can match these days. It seems to go one for miles, far past any horizon, glad for the world without end.
I still need to call him back, actually, him and Adam both, but for that I need a calling card, and for that I need to find out what in sam hill is going on with my bank. I wired money to someone in Alberta, only to find out that it was immediately rescinded, and the ATM wouldn’t let me take out all of my rent. Bah. Trouble. Not everything this weekend was good news. Almost, but not quite.
This link has everything needed to tell a story and I like it. (and this explains where it came from. thank you Duncan.)
I feel like dancing. I’ve got new super-perfect music playing, the Kaya Project, (yes, go get some), that’s erasing the unfortunate substance of yesterday’s job hunting. It was a slow Monday, the whole day drifting like early morning. It was taking forever to accomplish anything, the thick simple gravity of the world was holding time down. Clear but molasses. I was tooling away at my computer, able to judge for how long, aware of tasks finishing, but unable to grasp how many were left or still needed to be done. My heart felt too light, my head too hollow, like cases made of calcium and ivory, places for quiet telepaths to live in who didn’t need me to be complete.
Vancouver Zombiewalk 2006 CBC Footage.
When my eyes refuse to read advertisements anymore, I’ve been watching video I took of Chris Murdoch doing contact juggling and falling in love all over again with the wonder and awe that he engenders so easily in me. I need to rotate some the video and lighten it before I can share it. Fool with the gamma a little, tweak the curves. It’s magical and a little too dark. My camera can do a lot, but I expect miracles and lately the poor thing’s been flatscreen crashing.
Oh deary me, the things you find on Craiglist…
There are no birds today. The sky has become a hard stone floor waiting to be swept by wings, but there are none forthcoming. The threat of rain hangs too heavily over my neighborhood. All the flying voices are hunkering down, trying to get comfortable, and waiting for the inevitable soaking. I understand where they’re coming from. My desire to go outside is being stifled by the overbearing clouds as well. Cities feel out-dated on days like today, like no one’s progressed in architecture since the seventies but we’re all too cowardly to say so.
New Googlebomb: Scientology. Pass it on.
Two days of barely moving from in front of my sleepless computer, surfing the tepid industry* of employment websites, I feel like I’ve been joylessly glued to a square of carpet. Telus turned be down, albeit as politely as they could and with many personal remarks upon my general awesomeness, so now I’m holding my hand out to the internet, hoping to feel a brush of work upon my palm. Sara is in town scouring for funky apartments, so tomorrow her and I are going to attack the city classifieds as a brightly coloured yet highly dependable unit that you so want to know.
New Music: my Masque Soundtrack that never aired.
Tonight I was supposed to be with Jacques at a Karaoke Fundraiser for something, but I accidentally double-booked, so I’m due up at UBC for a bit of an analytical nature-walk through the endowment lands instead. Due in about twenty minutes, actually, if I’m going to be a little bit early. Apparently I’m to bring an umbrella. Amusingly, my friend who’s arranging this didn’t expect me to actually own one.
* Russia’s something too awesome for words.