Summer 2002

 

Sunday September 22, 2002: Book Day

TWENTY FIVE YEARS!

I have been keeping a journal since 1977.

How about that?

Not that you can read any of it here. For you I only exist from the summer of 2000 forward.

I woke up really early today. There was no going back to sleep. I was awake, and slightly confused. The light was different. I was in a bed instead of on a futon. There were no cats sleeping on me. I got up and had the hottest of hot baths. It was (is) drizzling away outside so my hopes of having a swim were dashed. I was warm for the first time in a while.

I am back.

I am reluctant to say “home” because I reserve that word for Toronto. But my stuff its here. This is where I live for the time being. Right now I don’t want to face any more change. Then when have I wanted to face that? And when have been able to stop it?

My apartment seems so Spartan.

After my bath I was confronted with the question “Now what do I do?”…

I unpacked. I stored away my stuff; put the clothes either in the laundry bag or the closet. I put the cassettes I’d taken with me back in the desk drawer. I put my shaving stuff back in the washroom. I had put the “do not disturb” sign on the door last night — more as an indicator to the cleaning staff that I was back than for them to keep out. When I took that off the smiling staff who were busy across the hall welcomed me back.

12:42 pm…

I am unsure about what to do next. I have lots of photos I could scan… but I don’t really feel like doing that. I feel sort of bewildered. I was there… I am back here. I don’t know what tomorrow brings. I am tired to the core, but I feel I should be doing “something”… taking advantage of what time I have available.

Going to BC has forced me to rethink some things.

Summer is over. Autumn begins tomorrow.

Saturday September 21, 2002: More Notes & Landings

The empty row of seats has been invaded. There were four seats, D, E, F, and G. I am in D. E, F, and G were empty. From nowhere, from somewhere behind me… a stumpy little man who looks like one of those inflatable punching bag clown toys arrived and took over. No acknowledgement of my sitting here. No “do you mind?”… He just took over. Three seats he’s taken. His hair plugged head occupies G with the upper part of his body, F is holding his beer gut and the real crime is having his legs and feet pushing everything of mine on E onto the floor while his stinky feet come within killing range. Talk about weapons of mass destruction!

So I sit here while his sticky filthy socks send out little invisible stink rays at me. He probably does stuff like this all the time. Because he can. Because no one calls him on it. Because no one tells him he’s a miserable sack of selfish middle management shit. And of course I’m not about to wake him to tell him that…

NO. I have a better idea. I think I’ll read. WHERE’S THE BUTTON FOR THE LIGHT?

5:45 pm somewhere but not here…

Well the Close Encounters light worked. Mr. Stink Foot lasted about 15 minutes before sitting up in G with his arms folded across his chest. Not about to budge… no not he. Some weird masculine thing to prove. Eventually the little troll moved off elsewhere, no doubt to count his Rogain and Viagra pills or to try to talk his cheesy-eating wife to do it in the toilet so they can be in the mile high club. Something he read in a magazine.

Tired. Hungry. Not in a good mood.

A Hong Kong movie about some master Mah-jong player is on. It has English subtitles, although that is not helping me understand the game. The big final game… The hero gets “18 unique wonders” and the elderly Chinese man across the isle to my left laughs out loud.

Stink Foot’s odour fades.

6:00 pm? I am really hungry.

6:30 pm?

We have crossed the date line. North east of China. Several hours left I think.

Ate.

This is the longest part. No sleep 'til Bangkok.

12:36 am Hong Kong time…

4 more hours. Just passing east of Tokyo.

3:05 pm HK time.

Maybe one more hour before we land.

Stink Foot seems to be part of a group of half wits that have clearly NEVER travelled before. Their pasty skinned mutant child runs uncontrolled along the aisles of the plane like a baseball-capped Pillsbury Dough Boy on crystal meth. My father within me has a strong desire to grab him and say “SETTLE DOWN!” in that quiet but frightening voice that used to make the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

6:30 pm…

On board my flight to Bangkok. The transfer was easy. Hong Kong is such a well organized airport. Was startled to see the Hong Kong security guys. Now THEY make me feel secure. They look like they mean business. Armed to the teeth and looking like they rappel down the sides of buildings for the hell of it. Unlike Pinoy guards, these guys look like they’d definitely hit whatever they were shooting at.

This flight isn’t very full. Hopefully no one will sit by me. The flight will be 2 hours.

A guy in a safari vest approaches … God… please don’t let him sit by me…

Nope… he walks by. I half expected to hear jungle sound effects and drums as he passed. I am sure he’s a fine fellow. I’m just not in the mood for chit chat.

8:15 pm

Landing. I can see a lightning storm in the distance over Bangkok. Such a huge city. Hopefully I’ll be home before it reaches The Evergreen.

Time to land.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig.

Friday September 20, 2002: Long Flight Notes

11:05 am

Another half an hour and Canada will pass back into the mist. I am tired. My eyes are sort of foggy.

The ride to the airport cost only 26 dollars. My driver was a Chinese guy in his 60’s. He had left China for Hong Kong in the early 1960’s, then came to Canada in 1967. A good year to come to Canada. His son lives in Hong Kong now and makes big money.

Have I been to Hong Kong?

I gave him 30 bucks.

Next stop was the check in counter. Maybe I should check my guitar in she says… I don’t need to check my guitar in. These aren’t the droids you’re looking for. Have a nice flight. No emergency exit row seats available. Oh well. I don’t care. When did I stop caring about stuff like that?

Went through security. They searched my bag. The Zoom PS02 had confused them… “Oh, that’s what that is” one said. The two security personnel looked like they had just graduated from college. Both young and pretty… and soaked in an innocence that you don’t see outside the first world.

Listening to a mix tape called Aug 2002… Moby, Bjork, Bowie, Grant Lee Phillips, Basement Jaxx, Holger Czkay… August is over. Just like it was after Sept 1999. If you follow what I mean.

I feel as if I have already left Canada. Once you pass through security you are in a middle place. Like that in-between world of dreams. Not here, not there. In-between… like a country to itself.

11:30 am…

Should be boarding soon. People are milling around.

I bought a tea from the Starbucks Concession stand. The people working it were from the Philippines. I talked to them for a while.

11:45 am. Let’s go. The worst part of the flight for me is waiting to get on the plane. Sitting around. It’s dull. Ten years ago I was afraid to fly. I wasn’t as a kid. Some time in my 20’s I became afraid. A combination of bad dreams about watching airliners crash, and watching the CNE Air show crash I think. Not afraid now. Flown too much to even have the energy to be afraid. There’s nothing you can do so…

Waiting Waiting.

Feel no fret.

Who will land in BKK? Lorne or David?

12:45 pm…

Up up and away. The flight attendant is beautiful. A CBC no doubt. She reminds me of M. Different build though and no French. But same smile. Same mouth. She looks good in her uniform. She sat across and up from me as we took off. Caught my glance, but I just felt awkward. I probably should have smiled. Smiling can be a dangerous thing though.

Tired.

Glass of tomato juice.

Husband and Wife down the row from me and across the isle. Lots of Empty seats. Husband is about my age and is everything I feel guilty for not being. Just sitting there I can see him in his vehicle or at his job or playing hockey or hammering pieces of wood together in his basement. I will never be him. If I were going to be, I would be already. I suspect I will never have a wife.

4:30 pm?

We are flying between Alaska and Russia. Along that little strip of islands. I’m not sure what time it is where we are… or what time we land in Hong Kong. I fell asleep during “Spiderman”. I have been sleeping in shifts.

Notes from the toilet.

According to the giant badly drawn DO NOT (circle with a line through) FLUSH sticker on the toilet seat lid I shouldn’t toss the following items.

Bottles, thimbles, fishing nets, mattresses, and severed hands.

Thursday September 19, 2002: Last Day

Today I went over to Celest’s work and met her for lunch. She’s working on a cartoon at the National Film Board of Canada, so I took the bus to Broadway and Granville, and then walked to the offices on Hemlock. The weather was sort of shitty. Rainy, windy and (for me) cold. It was strange to just walk in to an office building. NO security. No guards. No checking in. BIZARRE. But that’s what I did. I went up to the NFB office and Celest came out and got me. She took me on a little tour of the place, and I got to see the stuff she is working on. I also got to meet her coworkers and watch the black and white story board/pencil version of the project they are doing. I went to lunch with Celest and her boss Debra at a near by Vietnamese restaurant. It was nice to have some good Pho. After lunch Debra headed back to the NFB but Celest and I went to a café and had something warm. Nathaniel showed up there and we hung out for a bit. I walked back to the NFB with Celest then headed back to Brenda’s. It began to clear as I got back towards Main and Hastings. Brenda was back when I arrived and we spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out. (Something that I will miss) Tonight at around 8:00 pm I took the bus over to the Commercial Drive. There are lots of little Italian and Greek cafés or restaurants there. I met up with Celest and Nathaniel at one for some coffee. Afterwards we met up with Rob the sculpture/FX guy and a friend of his and walked over to this Greek restaurant where we had dinner. It was an excellent evening.

Wednesday September 18, 2002: The Animators Picnic

11:35 am: Bren’s place seems like home. I think the reason might be is that it is the SAME place I stayed at in December of 1995, and the same apartment that I discovered Michael Nesmith’s “The Prison” in. I always feel like I am imposing when I crash somewhere, but here I feel almost like I belong. Strange.

And there is the amazing flashing Jesus with blinking sacred heart that I bought for her in Manila and couriered to her work without any explanation of what it was. I knew she’d love it.

Tonight I met my sister Anne’s daughter Celest and her boyfriend Nathan at a club downtown. It was an event in conjunction with the launch of the Vancouver chapter of some international women in animation association. Celest and Nathan both being working animators were of course invited.

Bren and I walked down to it together although she had to go to her friend’s birthday thing. The party was held in a club called “Honey”. It was a renovated bar, that was no doubt once a dodgy place full of relics, but now it was hip-a-fied. There were lots of people standing out front smoking due to Vancouver’s anti-smoking bylaws. Celest and Nathan met me out front. I must admit I felt really nervous going in. I was surrounded by artists and creative people. When was I last in a club full of those types, I felt sort of out of place. No… I felt REALLY out of place.

We settled at a table while the accordion player played and sang, and some prizes were handed out to some lucky draw winners. I got to meet Celest’s coworkers and friends. Most notably a sculptor/special effects artist (now working on “X-Men 2”) named Rob, and photographer named Rene. My discomfort faded talking to them, especially Rob who seemed to find my travels actually interesting.

We stayed until 10:30 or so, I caught a cab with Rob and Celest’s boss from the National Film Board.

Tuesday September 17, 2002: Cold!

10:45 am… I am COLD. Cold cold cold!

Freezing!

Brenda is at work. It looks sunny and nice out but I am COLD!

Yesterday consisted of doing absolutely as little as possible. I am not just cold. I am TIRED. I have watched a lot of MST 3000, as well as more “Lone Gunmen”. Friday I go back to BKK. That will be strange. Suddenly this ends and I am back there and who knows what comes next…

At least I know now that coming back to Canada isn’t such a scary thing. Just expensive. If I like Vancouver now, how will it feel to go back to Toronto??

Only time will tell.

Bren and I went for a little breakfast at a greasy spoon near here. I threw my stuff in the laundromat while we ate. It was (supposedly) quite warm out. It was nice and sunny but I wasn’t feeling so well. I was cold to the point of having an “anti-fever” and wore a borrowed jumper under my MEC fleece and raincoat. FREEZING! I slept for much of the afternoon, which seemed to help a lot.

My niece Celest (Anne’s daughter) called and I will meet up with her tomorrow. She works as an animator for the National Film Board of Canada and there is some big thing happening tomorrow night. I may bring Bren and Brook along as well.

Tonight consisted of pizza (hooray!) and more MST 3000…

Sunday September 15, 2002: Afternoon With Brook

This morning Bren and I went for breakfast at a diner called “The Ovaltine”. Its claim to fame is that is was used in an episode of “X-Files” where Mulder eats a bunch of pies or something to that effect. I was less impressed with that than I was with the tasty breakfast…

A year ago I was staying at Brook’s in Manila. So much can change in a year… Today I went to visit Brook here in Vancouver. She and her boyfriend moved here in the spring and live in Kits. I took the #10 bus to Kits and made a point of walking by my old stomping grounds there. In September of 1982 I left home and found myself in the very same neighborhood as Brook now lives. Twenty years ago! How is that even possible? Ron had just got his new computer (with 64 mgs of memory!), I had met the guitarist Ed Patterson (who was the impossibly OLD age of 39)… I spent my time vainly looking for work, and hanging out at Bill Lewis Music…

I walked by Ron B’s old place, and then moved up towards 10th and Arbutus… Some things were familiar, but most things have changed. Kits remains the best part of Vancouver though.

Brook’s place is certainly different from the Last Homely House. They live in a really nice apartment, which has a great view of the city. It was very strange to see her outside of the context of Manila. It was also strange to be called David again. We went for a walk in search of a patio and eventually ended up at “Hell’s Kitchen” where we sat outside and ate an amazing meal. It was good to sit and talk about coming back to Canada after an extended time in the third world. We spent most of the day talking and watching the world go by. The patio was covered so when it began to rain it didn’t matter. Eventually we went back to her place and I headed out at around 7:30pm. It was an excellent day.

I must admit I no longer hate Vancouver as I did three years ago. I don’t think I hate anything over on this side of the world as much as I once did. I do still think Vancouver is a weirdo magnet. My bus ride back to Bren’s confirmed that to me. Because it was Sunday night the bus turned back unexpectedly as we hit Hastings. I should have just waited for the next one, however, I foolish thought it was easier to walk back to Bren’s place. I was soon walking along the scary part of Hastings. The closest thing you’ll find in Canada to an American inner city, although this still pales in comparison. I was suddenly confronted by crack heads, freakazoids. hookers, drunks, and those bad things people seem to expect me to see in Bangkok. The cops stood by Main and Hastings busting someone, and this weird mass of damaged humanity oozed around them.

I did NOT feel safe.

I got back to Bren’s without trouble though (a benefit of being big). We spent the evening watching some stuff she’d taped for me. The now cancelled “Lone Gunmen” series, which was a brief but amusing spin-off of “X-Files”. The pilot episode was chilling to watch… The plot was about “Scenario 12” — a war game where terrorists fly a hijacked airliner into… yes, you guess it… The World Trade Center in New York. I guess no one actually watched this show, as I’ve never heard this mentioned on any news commentary or retrospective.

Saturday September 14, 2002: Brengun’s

Jon and I drove down to Vancouver at around 10:30 am. We stopped by the Yarrow River where Lanai was fishing and I said good-bye to her, then headed out on to the highway. We made a stop at Tim Horton’s for a quick breakfast of sorts and coffee, then were back on our way. It was sunny and nice once again, and the drive down was brilliant.

It’s been five years since I’ve gone in to Vancouver, so my memory of how to get to Brengun’s was vague to say the least. Jon remembered more than I did. Once we where in the city the street names were familiar but I couldn’t piece together where I was. Eventually we got to the area close to Brengun’s and it all came into focus. It was so strange to pull up in front of her place.

Jon and I unloaded my stuff and Bren greeted us. Jon stuck around for some coffee and hung out for about an hour before he had to go. Something I was sad to see. Who knows when I’ll be back?

Bren and I spent the rest of the day hanging out and watching Mystery Science Theater 3000 videos. Later we walked down the street market in China town and for one block I felt like I was back in Asia, except it wasn’t crowded enough. There was a fellow selling those waffle things that M and I pigged out on when we went to Hong Kong. I bought a bag and snacked out. Then we headed back to Brengun’s.

Friday September 13, 2002: Last Supper

Another quiet day. Jon and Lanai are at work, Kim is at school. I am in the backyard with a cup of tea. The cat is basking in the sun beside me. Another summer day.

Slept strangely — dreams dreams dreams… they are all gone now. But here I am. Two weeks ago seems like last night’s dreams. Half remembered, distant and vague. Two weeks ago might as well have been a thousand years ago. And two weeks from now?? What will that be like. To return to BKK. Foggy! Too many changes…

Tonight at around 7:00 pm Keith and Jenny came down for dinner. Jon and Lanai cooked up some fresh salmon on the bbq as well as a pot of fresh corn. Sheryl and Cole came with them, as well as Kristen, Gillian and their friend. It was a really great evening. As good as it was to see my siblings I have to admit that I am far closer to their kids, Jon and Keith especially. We are only two or three years apart in age, and we share all the crazy memories that are usually reserved for brothers. Stealing apples, breaking bones, fishing in rivers, and getting into trouble. Watching Keith’s kids climb Jon’s apple tree reminded us of that.

Oh the things we got up to!

Back in the 70’s Jon and Keith’s parents had the most modern TV imaginable. It was complete with a remote control that sported THREE big switches, and looked like something Spock would use. I am uncertain of how it worked, a static electrical charge of some sort, but we discovered that by shaking a bike chain in a nearby room we could change the channels on the TV. We would hide in the cubbyhole under the stairs next to the TV room and drive Jon and Keith’s dad up the wall by switching channels on him while he attempted to watch Hockey Night In Canada. I don’t think he ever figured out what was going on.

Now we all have grey in our beards, but being around them feels the same.

Saying good-bye to Keith and his family and to Sheryl and Cole was difficult. I wish that I wasn’t so far from them. Tomorrow Jon’s driving me down to Vancouver…

Thursday September 12, 2002: Darmok On The Water

12:45 pm…

Sitting out in J & L’s back yard. Their cat is sitting in the shade beside me. It is sunny and completely cloudless. Nice & warm in that Indian Summer kind of way. I am all alone today, which seems strange after the last week. I practiced guitar for a bit but I am in one of those unhealthy “what’s the point anyways” moods.

The last time I sat here was in 1999 after my Mom’s funeral. Things seemed more optimistic then. I was with M. I had my apartment. I had a Snowmelter gig coming up…

Now?

I haven’t anyone… My apartment in Toronto is gone and it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting back there anytime soon. Drop-D is the only remaining piece of anything from that “before time”.

Right now everything seems either lost or hopeless. Far too gloomy a feeling for such a beautiful day.

7:45 pm…

The day of nothing draws to a close.

Amazing how so many “OLD” feelings have resurfaced here. The feeling of distance between me and Toronto seems to have doubled somehow. The distance between who I am and who I want to be seems even further.

Somehow… sitting here… I feel as I did in 1982. Strange.

Maybe heading down to Vancouver will put a different spin on things.

I am amazed at how alone I feel.

Wednesday September 11, 2002: Time Flies

The big anniversary… It’s hard to believe that a year has passed. It feels like four years ago. I was in Manila a year ago… San Lorenzo Village to be exact, house sitting for Brook, frolicking in the pool with Small L. I watched the World Trade Centre burn with Filipinos who were horrified by the destruction, but not surprised, having already suffered so much from this Jihad.

Bizarre. Terrible. Horrible.

Now here I am in Yarrow, looking out the window as the sun sets on the mountains. I couldn’t be safer.

I went out with Jon today at around 11:00 am. We drove up to Chilliwack Lake, and ventured beyond on gravel roads that were only accessible by Jon’s new truck. It is difficult to describe exactly how beautiful the trip was. We moved out of the valley, and along side the Vedder River, then deeper and higher. Eventually we left the paved road and came on to the gravel road where Jon was able to remove the trigger locks off of his guns and our quest for dinner began.

We drove for quite a while, the road taking us along side the indescribable alpine beauty of Chilliwack Lake. We continued on, over more difficult roads and climbed up between two slopes of meadow and trees. To our right was a rushing creek and at times quite a drop. It was the warmest I have been since arriving back here. Jon got three grouse for the barbeque. We were almost eaten alive by the biting flies. Jon cleaned the grouse there, then we headed back down.

Unbelievable scenery. The late afternoon sun on Chilliwack lake. The smell of the pines, alder and birch trees. The heat of the sun and the coolness of the breeze. Amazing. It felt like one of those early summer days when you skip school to go to the lake.

I love it here.

Something I don’t think I would have said three years ago. Something I haven’t felt since 1981.

Tonight before sunset Jon, Lanai, Kim and I drove up Vedder Mountain and shot clay pigeons for an hour or so. It took me a while to get used to firing the shotgun at a moving target. The action of pumping it to reload also took a lot of getting used to. Eventually I was hitting three for three. It would take a lot more practice to manage to match Lanai’s accuracy or Jon’s ability to come from a relaxed position to shouldering and firing. It was a lot of fun though. Firing at the orange clay disks and they went spinning out off the side of the cliff over looking Columbia Valley as it heads up towards Cultas Lake. The sun set on the mountains across from us was so beautiful. The moon’s shadow hung “correctly” on one side instead of the top or bottom as it does in Asia. We packed up, cleaned up and headed back down at dusk.

Tuesday September 10, 2002: Leaving Hope

Evan came by last night. He had some problems with his truck and had Keith look at it. He heads out to San Francisco today. The problem was beyond Keith’s skills but the company would fix it anyways so he parked the truck at K & J’s overnight. Sheryl, Cole and Ron also came around for a visit.

This morning Ron and I went for breakfast in town. Another outstanding meal. We had the breakfast special and it was truly a feast for 3 dollars. Good quality coffee (“Damn fine coffee” as Agent Cooper would say) and amazing home made hash browns as well as proper Canadian bacon with good Fraser Valley eggs. Mmmmmmmm…

Ron and I had a good talk. I haven’t really had the opportunity to sit and talk to him in years. It was great to have finally have a chance. Today he heads for San Diego.

Sitting on K & J’s front porch. To my left flowers. In front of me a big lawn. To my right, laying on a towel on the steps is about 20 fresh tomatoes picked from the garden. Laying there getting a little more ripe. It’s brilliantly sunny. The wind is nice, cooling and moving the trees.

Whispers of cloud climbing over the mountains. I couldn’t feel further from the noise of Bangkok. One of the cats comes out and sniffs the tomatoes before vainly chasing a big white butterfly.

Back to Jon’s this afternoon.

Sheryl drove me down to Jon and Lanai’s at with her friend Amy and Cole at around 3:30 pm. Nothing signifies being back here more than the quality of the roads and the scenery they pass through.

Except for the food… I have managed to have just about everything my heart desired. Real freshly picked Fraser Valley corn on the cob… Both Jubilee and Peaches and Cream varieties… As well as REAL fresh out of the water yesterday caught by Keith himself BC salmon. Eating “smoked” salmon from a Marks and Spencer’s package? Bah!

No, I prefer my Salmon caught fresh and cooked in it’s own juices over the barbeque… That’s what salmon is supposed to taste like.

Lanai and Kim were around when we got there, although Jon had gone out hunting in his new truck. We hung out in the back for a while and Lanai picked Sheryl some peaches from their tree, some blue berries as well as some grapes from their vines. The grapes are amazing. Small and sweet. Green and seedless. They headed back up to Hope at 4:30 pm.

I have been here a week tomorrow. It already seems like a month. Not really much has happened, but I feel like the world has totally changed once again. Another week and I’ll be getting ready to go back to Bangkok. Then this will all seem like some strange dream.

Monday September 9, 2002: Langley

Rob left this morning. Now there is just me. Many partings.

I drove to Langley with Sheryl, Evan, Brian and Cole. Evan and Ron work for the same trucking company which is where we took Evan to. He had pick up his new vehicle which is a 2000 Volvo transport. It is uncertain when he heads out. Cole was beyond cute, especially when he pretended to drive the big rig while his Dad prepared it for the road. It’s great to be able to finally see my new great nephew… and I am so glad that Sheryl ended up with someone as decent as Evan. You never know… Especially if you are half a world away.

We left Evan there and drove back to Hope. I slept much of the way. I have been beyond tired. I am not sure if it’s the jet-lag I’ve been putting off having, or if it’s some sort of post-bereavement blues.

Today was made up nap, nap and more nap.

Tonight when Keith got home from work I drove with him and his friend Mike up to Silver lake. He took his dog Chief along for the ride. Keith’s dog Jake is now far too old for such trips. He looked sort of forlorn as we headed out but that’s the way of it. We drove up into the mountains and tromped around in the bush for a bit, then we headed over to Silver Lake and Chief got to do his retriever thing. Mike threw sticks into the lake and Chief would run into the water like a spaz, then swim out and get them and bring them back. He still has that puppy-like goofiness to the way he does things. At one point Chief grabbed the wrong stick. Instead of getting the piece Mike had thrown out he got a hold of the end of a long branch that was sticking out of the water. We laughed and watched him struggle with it for five minutes then were amazed as he dragged back the entire ten foot long piece of wood. Of course he expected us to throw it back out for him to fetch.

How beautiful is Silver Lake?

Very.

Sunday September 8, 2002: Smash Up Derby

Pancakes for breakfast. Pancakes with REAL maple syrup. Imagine such a thing. If you have never had pancakes with real maple syrup I truly pity you.

Today was the big demolition derby. Keith’s work had a car entered so he was out early to work on it and get it ready for the event. Rob and I drove down at around 2:00 pm and found Keith and Jenny in the pit area. Keith’s work’s car was a Ford station wagon painted yellow with Shrek on hood. It was number 13, and also had some paintings of Shrek and the talking Donkey on it’s side. The car had like the others been converted into a demolition derby car by having its doors filled with concrete, its gas tank replaced, its insides reinforced and the frame pre-bent to control the direction of the denting. We walked around and checked out some of the other cars, each having its own take on the same idea, and each with its own outlandish paintjob and theme.

The demolition derby itself was put on by the Hope Fire Department in conjunction with Hope Search and Rescue. This caused some delay in the proceedings when a call came in and several trucks had to rush off in response. The delay however gave Rob and I a chance to line up for burgers, and then find a good spot on one of the grassy slopes beside the derby area.

It was so great to sit on the grass, eat a nice juicy burger and watch a bunch of locals smash large American built cars into each other. In fact I can’t think of a better way to have spent this afternoon. It rained a little, but I couldn’t have cared less. I was so happy just to sit there watching while the jingle from the 1970’s TV ad for “SST Smash Up Derby” ran through my head.

Come on little Chug ‘em
You can get it done
Smash! Bang! Crash ‘em up…
Smash Up Derby is FUN…

There were several heats, each round eliminating some of the contenders. Between each heat there was time for the pit crews to try and repair the damage and ready their entry for another try. The whole thing was hilarious to watch. Number 13 managed to make it to the last round but was mashed beyond words early on. Oh well… There’s always next year I suppose.

After dinner tonight Jenny and I took Anne to the bus station where she got her ticket to go back to Princeton. It was awful seeing her go, especially with what has happened and in her current state. That may be one of the most difficult aspects of this whole trip. What can I do though? What can I say?

Nothing. Again nothing. And that seems to be one of the things that has defined the last few years. Absolutely heart-breaking.

Saturday September 7, 2002: Parade

Keith had the job of pulling one of the floats in the Brigade Days Parade with his truck. The float was for Kristen’s figure skating club. I rode over with him as he picked up the trailer that made up the float and took it to the parade marshalling area in town. There was a mild rain coming down, and the cloud cover was the kind I’ve only seen in this part of the world. The skate club put some finishing touches on the float, and rain proofed what they could.

At around 11:00 am the skaters loaded up in the trailer and we headed off behind this guy in a tiny go-cart shaped like a formula one racer. He had his kid riding in it with him and they raced around, from one side of the road to the other distributing candies to the spectators. Also in front of us marched two people in giant uncomfortable costumes. One was the A & W Root Bear, the other was that nameless Tiger that is supposed to reside in the gas-tanks of all cars that use Esso gasoline. They didn’t get too far. Five minutes into the parade the Root Bear (Australians must get a laugh out of that name) began to wobble abnormally and drift off the road. She got to the curb and pulled her giant head off just before she was about to faint. The sun was out, clouds had dispersed by this point, and what remained was heat and humidity. Too much to be marching around in a giant poorly ventilated Bear suit. It was decided to put the Root Bear and the Esso Tiger in the back of Keith’s truck so with some difficulty that was accomplished. The Bear kept threatening to roll out as she was lifted in by Keith and some fellow from the side of the road. Eventually they were safely standing in the back and we headed onward.

The parade route lead us through town, which even at our slow speed didn’t take that long. We saw Sheryl and her friends walking in their period costumes, and as we went by the store that Maralyn and Ron used to own we saw Ron, Evan and Cole waving to us. There was something heart-breaking about that. “Where’s Maralyn?” ran through my head… Oh yeah…

As little as three years ago I would have viewed a small town parade with unmercifully cynical eyes. Not today. I was happy to be there. I seem to have lost something in Asia that perhaps I needed to lose. Or perhaps I learned something I needed to know.

Bruce and Val headed back to Alberta once we had all returned from the parade. Only Anne, Rob and I remain here now.

Rob and I helped Keith return the trailer, stripped of it’s decorations, to the helicopter rental that had donated it. We drove over to the Hope airfield and unloaded it, then headed back to K & J’s. Rob and I borrowed Keith’s truck and went back to Parade Days. I had a free meal coming to me for my assistance with the parade and I was ready to collect. Rob wasn’t as impressed with the burger as I was… but then Rob hasn’t lived “over there” for three years. It was a great burger, made that much greater by the fact that it was free, and that it came from a booth at a local festival of a small town in the Canadian Rockies. I don’t know how many people would understand how much a simple burger could act as a cure for so much homesickness.

Rob and I drove down to Yarrow in the mid-afternoon. The day was totally clear by this point and quite warm, especially as we moved from the mountains to the Fraser Valley. Driving down was great. We got to Jon’s to find no one around, so we headed back towards Hope, but took a route through Chilliwack on to Rosedale where I lived last with my parents before returning to Toronto in 1984. It was absolutely spooky to drive by my old house. I felt as if I could stop, go in and find everything as it was when I was last there in 1986. It’s things like that which make me miss my Mom and Dad most.

We headed out of Rosedale and crossed the train tracks that I used to walk daily and I was surprised at how I had no memory of the area beyond them. It’s like that place is kept inside a box that I carry with me. I would do anything to be able to go back and walk those tracks in that time again. Or at least give myself some good advice. Regrets, regrets, regrets…

Friday September 6, 2002: Back To Little Mountain

I went to Doug’s for breakfast this morning. I had arranged to drive with him up to the cemetery on Little Mountain for the interment of Maralyn’s ashes. I arrived at his place at around 8:00 am and was treated to an outstanding fry-up the likes of which I haven’t had in years. The meal was completed with some excellent coffee. It was great to talk to Doug, especially since Dad’s not around.

We drove up in Doug’s new car. It’s a sporty convertible and driving through the Fraser Valley, up to Little Mountain in the sunlight with the top down made the our ultimate destination a little less heartbreaking.

I was glad to see Cousin Rob there with Val when we arrived. He’d come in off the road that morning. I walked over through the cemetery with him. Maralyn was laid beside Mom and Dad. It was absolutely beautiful out. The day delay in the interment and the weather made the proceedings much easier than I’d expected. Not that these events are ever easy.

We said our good-byes.

When it was all done, we gradually moved off. Howard, my stepdad, was there. It was good to see him. I walked back to Doug’s car and got my black MEC bag which contained a change of clothes while he went and visited his parents’ graves.

More good-byes, more tears and then some of us headed down to Chilliwack to a restaurant for a lunch. Then after the meal my brother George, his wife Betty and daughter Brenda headed back to Alberta. I drove back to Keith and Jenny’s in their mini-van with them, Anne, Grandma Adolph, and their kids Kristen and Gillian. We got back up to Hope at around 3:00 pm. Donna and Gil headed back to 100 Mile House from there.

Rob had his new Freightliner truck parked in front of their place. He didn’t have a trailer on it so he took me out for a ride around Hope in it. It was weird to ride so far above all the other traffic.

Tonight was the first night of Hope’s “Brigade Days”, which is the weekend long town festival celebrating Hope’s founding during the gold rush days. There was a Midway set up down town, and Rob and I drove down in Keith’s truck. We found a place to park, then walked around looking for everyone else. We ran into Maralyn’s son, Brian in the midway. He’s been living out of the province, so he was hanging out with his old friends from school and speed skating. We also found Sheryl who was walking around in a turn of the century outfit and hat. Later Keith and Jenny showed up with their kids. Val was also down by that point.

There were fireworks at 9:00 pm. We found a spot next to the field and watched them go off, then returned to the midway for more distraction. Rob and I went on one ride. It was sort of surreal walking around the midway. I felt completely out of place, and incredibly old. I was also having some difficulty with the temperature. We came back to Keith and Jenny’s afterwards. Tomorrow is the Brigade Day’s parade.

Thursday September 5, 2002: Maralyn Audrey Leger 1952-2002

Maralyn, words could never express fully the very special place you hold in our family. You were so much more than the fourth child, the middle sister or the one who sang alto.

Your special smile could weave a tapestry of joy. Your love of life created a beautiful carpet of dreams for all to ride upon. Your strong gentle will carved a clear example of our inherent determination. The many ways that you touched us all crafted a colourful quilt that will always warm and comfort our hearts.

You were laughter, you were light, you were joy, you were caring, you were love, you were and always will be Maralyn.

Love
Your brothers and sisters:
George, Donna, Bruce, Anne, Lorne

How do I write this one?

Should I just give the run down of events? Should I subject you to the many things that went through my head while I sat in the church?

Events… That will be easiest to do. But first…

Last night Jon, Kim and I stopped by Doug The Prophet’s. He lives in Sardis, which is just north east of Yarrow, in a very nice house that he had built in the early 90’s on a half acre of land beside Luckakuck creek. The house is amazing. The inside is a treasure trove of Victorian era antiques, but all in perfect condition, and tastefully displayed. Doug was my Father’s best friend, and to me more of an Uncle than many of my real ones. He is one of those people who’s passed through some great adversity in life but you would never know it to meet him. He has this brilliant wit, and never seems to age. I don’t even really know how old he is. Older than 65… But I he’s younger in spirit than some 30 year olds I know.

We stayed for about an hour, and had some coffee with him. Despite his amazing house, the kitchen/dining area are incredibly inviting and comfortable. We sat and talked and looked out at the ducks swimming under the little bridge he has over the creek, just up from the weeping willow tree. Later Doug gave us “the tour” and showed us around. I was happy to see the statue of “The woman by the well”, with it’s Biblical reference. I had a crush on the woman when I was a boy. She looked just fine to me. Doug had acquired a new piece, which was a Victorian woman walking some sort of dog. He asked me which I liked better, and I let him know that my heart still belonged to the Woman by the well.

We headed back to Jon’s at dusk. We tried to watch “The Fifth Element” on DVD, but ten minutes into it, I just started to shut down. Wednesday had been a long day.

The funeral for my sister Maralyn was today. It was held in a church in Hope, B.C. which is just beyond the Fraser Valley in the Rockies. I drove up with Jon and his wife Lanai to my nephew Keith’s house. The last time I was there was in 1999 for my Mother’s funeral. It was another beautiful sunny day, and I was totally blown away by the scenery. It is just so beautiful here. The mountains are so incredible. I remember when I lived here in the early 80’s I felt so hemmed in by them. I wanted to break past them and return to Toronto. Today I was just comforted by the sight of them.

My Brother Bruce was already there with my cousin Val, as well as my Sister Anne. We arrived just a few moments before my other Brother George and my eldest Sister Donna and her husband Gil. We went in to Keith and Jenny’s house and had a snack and waited for various others to arrive, most importantly Maralyn’s kids Sheryl and Brian. I finally got to meet Sheryl’s fiancé Evan and their little boy Cole. Once everyone was ready we all drove over to the church for the service. Maralyn’s husband Ron was there with his family as well as member’s of Evan’s family. The church was packed. The service was conducted by my brother George, with his wife Betty on the piano and Bruce on guitar. During the service Bruce sang. As Maralyn had requested the Sarah McLachlan song “Angel” was played.

Afterwards there was a reception of sorts. I’m not sure if that is the right word. The church folk provided food and drinks for us and there was an hour or so of mingling. There were a lot of people I hadn’t seen since my Mom had passed away. There were also a lot of people I didn’t know, but who knew me. It was all very surreal. Especially since I would expect to see Maralyn in that crowd.

Eventually people left and we all headed back to Keith and Jenny’s, then we headed over to Evan’s parents place for gathering and more food. That was good, and Evan’s mom made this incredible pot of chili… oh man. I had two bowls worth. I talked to Evan’s dad George for quite a while. He’s a Member and works the highway unit for Hope. People ate, and eventually Betty got on the piano and the singing started. Jon, Lanai and I headed out at around 5:00 pm and drove back down to Yarrow.

I am beat.

Wednesday September 4, 2002: Back To Vancouver

Today’s entry is weird, because I actually get Wednesday twice. That’s due to the magic of passing across the international date line. So I left on Wednesday… and arrived on Wednesday…

I woke up at 5:00 am and started getting my stuff together to go. I packed most of my things last night after coming back from Geri’s. Last night I also dropped Snooty the Fish off at Zarah’s until I return. I walked next door to Asia Hotel and grabbed a taxi to the airport from there.

On Saturday when I was at the Emporium with Snowy I had bought a odd little notebook. It has NAPOLEON printed across the front with a little picture of the General in gold ink and the words “special note book” above it. With several hours before my flight I sat with a coffee and wrote in it.

7:05 am. Well… I don’t have to worry about a thing until 8:30 or so. A long time off. It’s weird being here. The last time I was here I was with K before I went to Prague. I miss her company. Too many partings took their toll. So I am alone, listening to a mix tape called “August 2002”. I am mildly uncomfortable. I haven’t worn a suit in quite some time. Traveling ultra light. My guitar, and my black bag.

Holger Czukay warbles away. Some filthy back-packers walked by and looked at me in my tie with disgust. Since I dressed up, and actually clean I must represent the great Satan. No doubt I have a sweat-shop full of orphans pumping out McDonald’s uniforms and those polyester shirts so popular among cigar smoking red-neck Chamber of Commerce directors in the Bible belt.

Yep. That’s me.

7:30 am. Bjork sings. I yawn. Debating another latte. Nothing like being all sugared up and needing to pee during take off. Fidgeting while I wait for that “fasten seat-belt” sign to go off. Fun, fun, fun!

9:00 am. At Gate 26.

Waiting waiting… It’s okay. I have my stuff, I have my ticket, I have my walkman. No problems. Have some gum. Had a wiz. Ready.

The first flight was from Bangkok to Taipei on Thai Airways. I had managed to get a seat by the emergency exit, so there was lots of room. The flight itself was only 3 hours and it went by quickly.

1:10 pm Taiwan time.

Slept most of the way. A sleep that hovered between this and that. Which I normally I don’t mind but this time there was not quite enough that for my liking.

The movie was “The Scorpion King” which needed no dialog. It was the visual equivalent to a fax machine handshake. “Conan the Barbarian” meets “Smack Down”…

2:40 pm…

C.K.S. Taipei Airport… The worst airport in the world. Poor signage. Badly laid out. Walking empty hallways. Smells funny. Like a junior high science class. Frogs in jars? The ancient rad leaking X-ray machine manned by a single sleepy guard. The luggage passes through to be dumped in a pile on the floor. Just managed to grab my guitar before impact.

Where is the transfer desk? Misleading signage abounds. After wandering aimlessly I finally reach it. I have no Taiwanese money so I have no way to buy water. Not breaking a 100 dollar bill for that.

3:20 pm… could it be any stuffier?

How can a place so vast and so empty be so stuffy? Two more hours… I’ll be glad to get out of here. What a place this is… dull… I feel so dehydrated… Lots of people have arrived. Every now and then I get a whiff of smoke from the “smoking room”.

4:20 - one more hour before boarding. This airport is pure torture. Awful! Poorly designed chairs with vinyl seats… No ventilation and a room temperature of 28 C… On top of that this airport has the ascetics of an abandoned elementary school. It is so bleak. The only colour is the yellow letters on the signs. it’s a jarring yellow that is difficult to look at for more than a few seconds.

5:00 pm… another 20 minutes. I am starved. All I’ve had was that strange breakfast on the flight from BKK.

The flight from Taipei to Vancouver took just over 12 hours. I didn’t take notes. It wasn’t that bad. I managed to snag another emergency isle seat and I slept as much as I could manage given the circumstances. The fellow beside me snored like a broken appliance… the snore wasn’t as bad as the intake of air afterwards. Even the walkman couldn’t filter out the burbling sound of his nasal passages… The only real complaint I had about the flight was the temperature. It was FREEZING.

I arrived in Vancouver at 1:50 pm, almost an hour late. I didn’t care though. I had everything with me as carry-on so I simply collected my stuff and walked off. The Vancouver Airport has been totally renovated and looks great. I waltzed through customs and met my nephew Jon out in the waiting zone. From there we just went to his car and headed out to Yarrow in the Fraser Valley.

It was so beautiful out. I was afraid that I’d be cold. Perhaps after the cryogenic temperatures of the flight it just seemed warm… Still it was sunny, warm and NOT HUMID. The smell of the air was amazing. Fresh… Pine scent fresh…

An aroma that I haven’t smelt in two years. The aroma of home. The drive up was great. The mountains looked beautiful. The trees looked beautiful. The valley looked beautiful. I have forgotten how beautiful Canada is.

For dinner tonight I had the best imaginable thing. We drove with Jon’s daughter Kim to Sardis and ate at the “Husky”. The Husky is a truck stop. It has a huge parking lot that is full of trucks, a gas station and diesel pump for the truckers. It has a store and of course a diner. Our waitress was a woman in her mid-30’s with a hair-do that looked like it had been constructed by Dolly Parton’s character in “Steel Magnolias”, named Belinda. I was more than happy to flirt with her. I ate a giant hot turkey sandwich with fries and gravy and drank several cups of coffee designed specifically to keep truck drivers awake.

How home sick have I been? Oh man, what an amazing cure for it.

Tuesday September 3, 2002: Tickets

Today was mostly a fog of going here, getting this, going there, exchanging this for that and ultimately getting in my hand the actual ticket to Vancouver. Phone calls, emails and so on.

Now it is actually 1:30 am, and in 8 hours I’ll be lifting off for Vancouver. Which means in 5 hours I have to leave. I guess I can sleep on the plane.

Ugh.

Besides the fog, I had lunch at Fresh Milk, had dinner at Asian Spices, had a swim, and went over to Geri’s for a visit. Then it was back here, and I delivered Snooty the Fish into Zarah’s care for two weeks.

And with that…
It’s back to packing and then…
Sleep…

See you all on the other side of the water.

Monday September 2, 2002: Morning Pages

Over the last six weeks I’ve been waking up early and begrudgingly writing my “morning pages”. Morning pages are one of the many exercises from “The Artist’s Way” which I have been re-doing. Since Saturday my dedication that whole process has come to an abrupt halt. However, after waking up this afternoon the first thing I wanted to do was come on to the computer and write.

So I am.

As it stands right now, it would appear I will not be able to arrange a flight to Vancouver in time for Maralyn’s funeral. It’s more than just a matter of costs. It’s a matter of actually finding a flight that will get me there before Friday on such short notice. It is a situation I have no real control over, and nothing frustrates me more than that.

ANOTHER situation I have no control over.

I could never have faced my Mother’s death and the whole funeral situation in 1999 without having passed through the fires of 1998 first. I’ve felt that what the last year has thrown my way was somehow part of God’s boot-camp in preparation for this. But what would the point of any of it be if I can’t even get there??

How very tiring.

I am tired. I am tired beyond words by this… But there is NOTHING I can do. Just wait.

The phone just rang.

Geri found me a flight via Taipei to Vancouver leaving on Wednesday morning.

Sunday September 1, 2002: Not Being Alone

Needless to say, sleep isn’t an option after getting a phone call telling you that your sister has died. I was wide awake, and sat more or less in a strange daze, flipping channels until 6:00 am or so. Recently our satellite service has been upgraded to give us several more channels, but at 4:30 am that doesn’t help much. I did watch the tail end of “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” which I think is a brilliant movie based on a brilliant book.

Bruce called again and gave me more details and I began figuring out what my options are. I had called Geri almost immediately after the first call, so I knew she would help me find a ticket through her excellent travel agent, Poon. I fell asleep between 6:00 am and 6:30 am.

I was up at around noon, and fortunately Snowy is in town this weekend. We met up and went to for breakfast together at the Dubliner. It was exactly what I need — both the company and the food. Afterwards we walked over to the Emporium Mall and while she got her hair done I wandered about in a bit of a fog. I had intended to stay with her until the process was done, however I began to fade after an hour and a half of wandering about and headed home.

I slept until 7:00 pm.

Geri called and I arranged to meet up with Her, Snowy and MJ at Starbucks in Central Chitlom. When I left to go to the BTS it was raining in that “Blade Runner” way. I’m afraid that Bowie’s “Heathen” CD will have some very definite associations from this time. I got to Chitlom and then we walked over (in the rain) to a French restaurant in the Meridian Hotel. It was an excellent meal, and I had several glasses of red. We were there for a while, then headed back to Geri’s to watch a copy of “Austin Powers: Gold Member” which was great. The opening sequence was brilliant. Zarah showed up and she and Snowy went off to meet the Brookside Boys. I walked back to the Evergreen at about 12:30 am. The rain had stopped and there was this nice cool breeze. It was quite a nice walk.

Today so far has been about laundry and stuff that I normally do on a weekend. I WISH this were a normal weekend. It’s hard to imagine that by next Thursday I will probably be back in Canada.

The British have no concept of the size of Canada. I keep getting asked if I am going to visit Toronto, or see M when I am there. I wish, but not this time.

Saturday August 31, 2002:

It is 3:30 am.
My Brother just called.
My Sister Maralyn is gone.
She passed away in her sleep.

I am not certain what happens now.

Tuesday August 27, 2002: Talking To M

I spoke to M today.

I haven’t spoken to her in quite some time. When I was last in Ottawa nearly two years ago I left behind some of my belongings at her place. That was when I thought I would be “home” by now. Over the last while I have been concerned that perhaps my things might be better off else where. That perhaps my ghost might be unwelcome in her place, as she goes on with her life. It has taken me about two months to work up the nerve to make the call. In the end, she assured me that everything was safe, and waiting for me, and that it wasn’t a problem for her to keep it all. Saying good-bye was… odd.

As much as I love Bangkok, and am happy here… As much as I enjoy my days, and feel privileged to have what I have here… I still feel that I have lost almost everything of value to me over the last three years. That isn’t exactly as sad as it might sound. But some days, like today for example… It is.

When I originally left Toronto in 1981 with my family, I was heart-broken by it. I was in an excellent school and surrounded by some much opportunity. Moving to Campbell River was like being dumped on the moon. When I returned in 1984 I found the person who had been my closest friend had drifted so far away that it was crushing. Everything I had longed to return to was rendered meaningless. Things changed, people changed and I struggled to find myself while wading through a sea of loss.

This is what I fear most about returning to Toronto. I fear it, and I know it will be the case. My amazing little place is gone. The walls that Gina painted for me have been rendered sterile by coats of egg-shell white. The staff at GFM won’t know me. Everything will be different…

Including me.

Having said that… I also know from my 1981 experience that IF I had not moved to “the moon” I never would have met Gina, who has been constant friend (and occasional pain in the ass) for the last 20 years. IF I had stayed in Toronto I never would have me Steve, Hughie, Clayton and Dave and I never would have become a musician. And so on, and so forth…

So…
Here I am. One day closer, that is all.

And when I come back I will figure it out, and other doors will open, and the street cars will still rumble and screech down Bathurst and when it snows too much the Metromelt Snowmelter machines will come out and do their snow melting thing.

In the mean time I will continue to talk to my volley ball, and wait to see what the tide washes up…

Thursday August 22, 2002: Today’s Entry Brought To You By The Number 2

What was I going to say?

There was something… Now it’s faded. It will return… Maybe.

Anyways…

Tonight the ER-1 got pulled out, but never used. In fact, tonight’s recording was 100 percent Midi free. No drum loops, no beat boxes, not even a helpful metronome… There was however 500 pound of pure echo that bounced around between the left and right poles and keep everything moving forward. I started the evening off with the Dr. Sample box taking snippets off of my Walkman’s never used radio. Ten pads worth of 3 to 5 second clips of whatever I happened across. People yammering away in Thai, or those wheezy strings used in all Asian 1950’s style pop songs. I got a very good clip of a guitar being plucked and some nice radio noise. Once all that had been collected I was going to trigger it with the ER-1’s Midi out, locked of course the MRS-4’s task master metronome. However… Creativity often has a mind of its own.

I started messing with the echo effects in the MRS-4.

I did attempt to sync the loops with the metronome. A pointless exercise. Eventually I just gave up and accepted the fact that this little ditty would have a meter all of its own making. A swirly whirly wash of echoed Asian strings went down first, the echo being thick enough to render the original sample unrecognizable. On top of that wash, I set the only rhythmic bit on the piece. A loop of a guitar string being plucked over a sustained note. The sample had been both pitched down and been time stretched slower. > there I added more wash, more echo and more… wash. Eventually topping it all off with a nice filtered (and echoed) “slow attack” guitar bit. Everything set back far away in the mix…

What else?

I got a letter! Gina sent me a nice big fat letter, full of photos of her new place and a nice shot of Chico the dog. Oddly the letter was delivered to me at night. I am not sure how long it had been sitting at the front desk, but they had failed to give it to me during any of the 6 times I walked past them today. Instead they just sent some one up with it at 10:00 pm.

I still can’t remember what it was I wanted to say. I guess it wasn’t very important.

Sunday August 18, 2002: Un-hangover

I have an Unhang-over.

What is that? Well it is when you aren’t hung over from going out. The reason I have an un-hangover instead of a hangover is because I didn’t get drunk. Does this mean I didn’t have a good time?

I am not sure.

I have been unable to reach Anand for several days (a worrying thing) so I went to the club where the Birthday Gathering was held by BTS and by foot. Not a bad thing. The club itself could not have been more secluded though. I had to walk down Soi 53 for ages before I found it. I keep thinking that I’d end up at Don Mills and Eglinton Ave if I kept going. Maybe Chris would be there…

Anyways…

The club was called “Fluid”. It should have been called “Freezing”. The Air Con was on warp ten, and as the place was basically empty. I kept my coat on. Triple Leicester who’s turning four times seven was there with a friend named John who was also celebrating a birthday. For quite a while it was just us and John’s girl friend. There was a truly sad cover band pumping out all the hits. The guitarist had the look, and the gear, but lacked that certain something. I’m sure he’s never broken a string. In fact the way he held his guitar was telling. He could play mind you. He could do all those big hair rock noodley noodley things, but it was sort of clinical.

People began to arrive at some point. The place filled, the band left, and Miles’ room-mate Neil took the DJ booth and began to spin some things. The resident DJ who again had the look, but had some weird aversion to bass kept coming up and pestering him, and turning down the bass. It was painful to watch. Neil did his best to ignore him but it was obviously annoying him, and Fonzie was not getting the hint…

Who was there?

Everyone. The whole line up and then some. The Brookside Boys, both north and south, with the exception of Roger who is elsewhere right now. Brookside James was the first to arrive and baffled me with his hair. I have never seen him with out a shaved head and that in itself gave his spiky little hair-do a Muppet-like quality. Little Joe and Mark were also there making it a little bit like Samui. Miles is back. He’s been actually hanging out in Koh Samui at his friend’s resort where they are taping the latest instalment of “Temptation Island”, or as he calls it “Frustration Island”. It was great to see him.

Snowy of course has returned from the UK. Her walking up to me was a surprise even though I knew she’d be there and I knew it was also her Birthday at midnight. It was good to see her back. Zarah, Geri, The Mysterious J, and several others were about, as well as some of the Thai regulars like La La, who has the Taj Mahal tattooed on her back. Monkey boy arrived fashionably late, and since it was Monkey Girl’s birthday as well there was a great deal of picture taking.

Lots of talk. Lots of mingling. Eventually I was warm enough to take off my mac.

At some point I left with Geri, MJ, Triple Leicester, John & Associate, and Geri’s step Mom. We cabbed it over to the Sheraton Snoot-a-nental, and went to the bar there. On stage was a Farang cover band featuring two scantily clad vocalist gals who obviously did their sit-ups. More interesting for me was the absolutely incredible bass player. He had a Trace Elliot rig, and a beautiful Music Man bass… oh my. And he played the hell out of it. In fact, I’d say he was the best bass player I’ve seen since I left civilization.

I was here I had the only non-soda drinks of the night. A glass of red, which did nothing for me, and a glass of champagne… The first time I tried champagne was in 1985 when I was 21. It was after the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir’s 25 anniversary concert at Roy Thomson Hall when I sang with the TMYC (youth choir). There was a big gala pig out piss up afterwards and I sampled the champagne while my dearest Cousin Jayne (remember from the Elvis story) guarded me from the advances of some of the gayer members of the Tenor section as well as somebody’s Mother. I thought that champagne tasted like carbonated vomit. The passing of time has not changed that view.

Anyways, I had that as well as a cigar (which I did enjoy, a pleasure I indulged in quite a bit after Lori and I split in 1991 before smoking cigars became “cool”. The combination of my brush cut and a cigar briefly gaining me the nick-name of “Sarge”) and watched the band. It had become increasingly difficult to communicate with those around me. I simply could not understand what they were saying.

2:00 am… Bangkok’s bars close by order of the King.

It was into a cab, and back to Evergreen. Once back, it was follow the thumping drums to Mark and Joe’s room for more more more. Pretty much everyone mentioned previously was there. I talked mostly to Neil about music. He uses “Reason” software for what he does. We talked about the differences, advantages and disadvantages of virtual verses gear, computer verses outboard… It is too very different ways of doing things. Monkey Boy requested a bottle opener so I went and got mine, as also grabbed the ER-1 to show Neil. He loved the 808 sounds but disliked tweaking and pushing buttons. It was sort of funny since my reaction to trying to use “Reason” was exactly the same. I guess it is all about what you are used to.

At 4:00 am I decided I should probably go to bed.

Saturday August 17, 2002: Out Later But For Now…

You see a fair number of Osama Bin Laden t-shirts for sale at MBK. I find this a disturbing thing for many reasons. You will also hear people (many of which should know better) spout these great pronouncements of how the “Americans had it coming”. Their sad anti-Americanism somehow justifying the actions of a bunch of cowardly murders that slit the throats of airline attendants before killing over 3000 people. Murdering bastards who would impose their twisted medieval theocracy on the whole world if they could, and who would gladly kill every single man, woman and child who is not of their ilk. Nothing the Americans or the West has done justifies these witless little men’s actions. NOTHING. They should also thank their lucky stars that the Americans are ruled by a Government UNLIKE the ones they would erect given the chance. If the West was as evil as they seem to claim there would be no restraint, no worries about civilian casualties. One American submarine, even one British Submarine for that matter could reduce all of the Persian Gulf in to a radioactive wasteland. That however is not our way. That is also what makes us better than them.

I am weary of these idiots. I am weary of hearing people try and explain or justify or reason their actions. I am tired of seeing people wearing Bin Laden t-shirts.

The Ben Laden T-shirt I would like to see would feature his bullet-riddled corpse lying in a pool of his own blood and body fluids while the little pig from those “Babe” movies whizzes like a dog on his head. The caption would read something to the effect of BURN IN HELL YOU GUTLESS SELF-RIGHTOUS LITTLE WORM.

Just a thought.

Tonight is a big multi-Birthday extravaganza for several different people. I had considered dressing up. However, I have decided upon being comfortable instead.

Haven't been able to reach Anand. This worries me.

Friday August 16, 2002 : Remembering The King

I remember exactly where I was when the news of Elvis’ death came. I was sitting in my cousin Jayne’s room, listening to Queen’s “Night At The Opera” LP on headphones. Jayne came in and told me that Elvis had died and I believe my response was “who cares...”

Well perhaps some of you do... So here’s a picture to help you remember the King Of Rock N Roll...

Thursday August 15, 2002: Under My Bed

Another night of recording, and once again I flipped things around and approached from the other direction. The Korg Micro-Preset was the first thing to go down on “tape” as it were. I spent quite a while trying to match to pulse rate of the synth to the metronome’s 110 Bpm. The idea once again being to have the ER-1 suit what’s been recorded, not the other way around. I lay down one track of echoed out pulse, then three more Korg synth tracks of varying bassness and squawkatude, each one going through my Palm Studio’s effects patches to add to the filtration process. Once I had recorded all four tracks, I hooked up the ER-1 drum machine and started tweaking. In my matching process I muted everything but the ER-1 and the first pulsating Korg track. Once satisfied I zero returned the whole piece and hit play…

NASH THE SLASH LIVES…

I hadn’t intended to ape good old Nash the Slash… But that’s what happened. I mixed EVERYTHING including the drums down on to Vtrack 8 on tracks one and two, and then tried to decide where to go next. It was just a short two minute long piece, so I decided to go with the Nash vibe and wrote a super-echoey distortion patch on my Palm Studio and ran my guitar through it. The result was a super-picking electric mandolin sounding over-echoed Nash bit that took 3 attempts to record with out screwing up. I know my machine has automated punch in, but there’s more satisfaction for me by playing it correctly all the way through it.

I don’t know if this will ever evolve beyond being a weird little 4 track experiment, but it was fun to make.

http://wezel.com/music/nash/nash.htm

Wednesday August 14, 2002: Pig Flakes

Pig Flakes!

EVERYONE loves crunchy munchy Pig Flakes! Now available in giant bags, the perfect way to tell a Farang you are thinking of them! Pig Flakes! You might think they are big scabs off of the Friendly Giant’s knackers, but they aren’t! They’re Pig Flakes! Remember, they taste almost as good as they look!

Just look at the photo of Mr. Pig Flake and you know you’re getting quality Pig Flakes!

Tuesday August 13, 2002: Long Walk Home

Note to self… Don’t take your afternoon nap listening to The Stranglers “Black & White” album.

In other news…

Snowy returns soon. Hurray!

Tonight I uploaded the contents of my 32 Mg Smart Card to my Zoom MRS-4 Card Manager on my computer. This freed up the card and allowed me to spend the evening working on an idea without worries of running out of space. I can reload the information on to the same card or another when I need to work on it again.

Normally things start out with the Korg ER-1 but tonight I sampled a toy piano I got from 7-11 for 60 Baht and looped it, then matched the loop up best I could to the metronome on the MRS-4. I ran a forward loop on to tracks 1 and 2, one track being clean and the other effected through the PS02. Then I did the same for tracks 3 and 4, only I ran the loop in reverse. I spent a while building up a drum loop on the ER-1 and bounced the drums, and the 4 tracks of toy piano loops down to the virtual track 8 on tracks 1 and 2. I added more drum ear candy on tracks 3 and 4 and then repeated the process so everything ended up on virtual track 8 on tracks 3 and 4. This left tracks 1 and 2 open for some more ear candy and a rough vocal idea.

One limitation of this set up is the vocal element. A borrowed karaoke mic is okay, but not what one wants to use for a final vocal. Especially with a fish tank buzzing away in the background. I can set the stereo chorus effect on the vocal track but unfortunately as great as that can sound that effect has been over-used by Moby. A super crappy condenser mic could solve the problem by going the opposite route, however for this idea a nice mic with the proper battery of compressor limiters on it, as well as a booth to cut loose in are in order. I may have to wait until I return to Toronto to put the finishing vocal touches on these ideas.

Sunday August 11, 2002: Red Leicester

There was a strange pool side reunion today. Who should appear but Triple Leicester and FL Tony! Popeye the Sailor has also been seen lurking the halls of Evergreen.

Tonight Zarah, who still has problems speaking a dialect of English that I can understand, Triple Leicester and I went out for a dinner. I mistakenly thought it was going to be a big gathering with clowns and hats so I dressed up better than has been seen in many full moon parties. I was mistaken.

It was just the three of us, and after a brief BTS ride, we went to an India Restaurant near the Marriot which I have not been to before. The food was excellent, and there were live musicians and two vocalists performing Indian music which I quite enjoyed. The highlight of the meal however may have been Zarah showing us the bruise on her butt she got when she attempted to kick a mosquito several days ago and toppled backwards in her chair. I’m still not sure which was funnier: watching her crashing down after a vain Jackie Chan style freak-out at a mosquito or her pulling her skirt down to reveal the multi-coloured results as people around us ate.

I haven’t worn my Fluevogs in a long time. On the trip back to the Evergreen I felt as if I had cement blocks on my feet.

Saturday August 10, 2002: Scanner Madness

Everyone has gone away! Not that I ever see anyone on the weekend… but they have all fled Bangkok’s clouds for sun and beaches, leaving me with a hamster named Harvey to care for. He seems to like sunflower seeds as much as I do. He also seems to make as much mess as I do when he’s eating them.

Last night I watched “Star Wars Episode One: The Phantom Menace” while practicing guitar. I haven’t seen it in a while so it was sort of interesting to watch. I still find the Swamp Rock Aliens annoying, and Jar Jar deserving nothing short of a painful death… But I can’t say I dislike the movie as much as most die-hard fans do. The duel at the end with Darth Maul is excellent and makes me miss my old Aikido Dojo’s weapons class. I can watch that fight sequence over and over and never tire of it. The one thing I would say about the movie though is that the computer generated stuff looks increasingly FAKE with time. Something that really struck me when I saw “Jurassic Park” on TV not long ago, boy oh boy those dinosaurs looked bogus…

Harvey may sleep all day… But the reason is he does is because he stays up all night making more noise that you could imagine possible for such a small creature. What is he building in there?

I spent the morning scanning my Prague photos, as well as ten or so photos that Zarah gave me to scan for her. This afternoon I picked up the mystery photos. The two rolls of 3200 speed film I’ve been lugging around South East Asia for the last two years. I was surprised that they actually came out as well as they did. I was also surprised by what was on them. There were some excellent shots of one of my trips to the Taal volcano with Rene, some nice shots of my Karate class, and various shots from the River Kwai Trip, Cambodia and Manila from last September.

I scanned some of them when I got back home. It’s so great to be able to just scan away, not worrying about how much each one will cost, or how much time you are taking to get a nice scan…

I had a great meal at “Asian Spices”, and then got my supplies for the night. The fruit vendor family seem to get endless amusement out of my nightly purchases of watermelon.

Monday August 5, 2002: The Mighty Korg

Today was a particularly good day. I got up early and had a nice little toast and tea feast at Fresh Milk. It’s nice to watch other people rush to work. I’ve always enjoyed that. Especially when I don’t have to… I hung out there for a while, and then headed back to Evergreen. I spent the morning messing with my scanner, trying different resolutions and experimenting with contrast and brightness on my Prague photos. I’d rather just scan them correctly the first time then have to muck about with them in a photo-program after the fact.

Anand came by and collected me at 12:30 pm and he drove me over to the photo shop near the Canadian Embassy. I have two rolls of TMAX 3200 that I shot over the last two years. I have NO IDEA what is on either of them, and since they’ve been x-rayed a few times they might not have anything, but that shop can develop them (hopefully) and it was time to get them out of my fridge.

That taken care of, I had Anand drive me down to some of the flea-market areas where I poked around for most of the day. I had already decided to buy the KORG but I wanted to see what else I could see… just in case…

I had a really good lunch at some little hole in the wall with Anand. He ordered me some soup which was rather Pho-like and outstanding, as well as a pork and noodle dish that was absolutely amazing. Anand told me some amusing stories about Roger Moore who was in Bangkok filming some James Bond movie back in the 70’s. Anand was a driver for the hotel Mr. Moore stayed in, and was not as impressed by Roger as Roger seems to have been with himself. We had some coffee, and then headed over to Chinatown to look in some more little shops.

I saw a few things that were cool, but they were all over-priced. One place had several different Roland GK series guitar synth floor modules but didn’t have the GK series pick up to go with them. I saw some nice Korg Electric Tribe units as well, but they seemed over-priced for used units. The one thing that made me laugh out loud when I saw it was the exact same Ibanez GR pick-up Midi guitar unit as I bought in 1989… The one that has since been transformed by the art stylings of Robin and the guitar craft of Alan Beardsell into the “Melancholy Sun” guitar. There it hung in its cheesy 1980’s silver… I asked about it, only because I lost the Midi controller portion of mine when Peter V’s “Slurp-mobile” was broken into back in 1994. (Peter was gracious enough to give me a GR-300 Blue Box to make up for it…)

“75,000 Baht…”

I laughed and walked out.

Anand says I should learn to barter. But I hate haggling over a price. It annoys me. Tell me a reasonable price and I’ll pay it. Otherwise… Don’t insult me. The last stop was the Hollywood I.T. Center. Anand dropped me off and then headed out, and I went in to the music store fearing my little find would be gone. Fortunately this is Bangkok, not Toronto and a 25 year old keyboard isn’t as in demand as a plinky Casio home entertainment digital Karaoke contraption.

The helpful but timid staff plugged the Korg in for me and gave me a set of headphones. It was just like skipping Mrs. Box’s boring Social Studies class in 1978 and sneaking off to The Keyboard Store on Yonge Street.

Orange polyester wide-leg lead sounds…
Deep shag carpeted Bass tones…
Lava lamp modulation…
Pet-rock pulsations…
And Walter and Wendy Carlos having full on acid freak-out…

My mood ring turned a bright glowing green and…

SOLD! To the man in the orange t-shirt!

I lovingly wrapped it up in two big plastic bags, to protect it from the rain which had just been starting when Anand had dropped me off, and then walked back over to the Evergreen.

Tonight is Analog night.

Saturday August 3, 2002: My First Scanner

When it comes to buying things like scanners, I am useless. I have this fear that the technology I am buying is going to be obsolete the instant I make the purchase. This fear isn’t based on wanting the most up to date gear, it’s based on the idea that the equipment would be suddenly cheaper, and that if I’d just waited a week or a month or a year I would have saved however many dollars. This thinking is what kept me from making a computer purchase until 2001, despite the fact I’ve wanted a computer since about 1982.

Anyways I finally decided that instead of spending a thousand Baht to have some cyber café owner scan a roll of pictures for me, I would break down and spend a few thousand baht on a scanner of my own. So off I went to the IT Freak show Plaza. I walked over, which was nice since it was sunny and pleasant out. I searched several stories of the complex and found that basically everyone had the same gear for pretty much the same price. Finally I came into one store and saw a couple of potential choices. The guy who ran the place spoke pretty good English, and didn’t try and push a purchase on me. I explained to him what I wanted, which was small, light-weight, and easy to deal with, and he showed me a scanner with was all of those things, and ran from the power supplied by the USB port instead of having to use a power supply.

Sold!

Then he showed me a Smart Card reader when I asked about the price of the media itself.

Sold!

Now I can start scanning the past six months of photos (sorry Justin) and I can back up my Zoom MRS-4 Smart Card data as well as the data from my PS02 Palm studio.

What an amazing toys we get to play with!

I walked back to Evergreen via the Hollywood I.T. center. I picked up a couple of computer games that might be alternatives to always winning at “Red Alert”. On my way back towards the Phayathai Road exit I chanced past a music store that is always closed when I walk through on Sunday. I went in just to poke around and see what I could see.

There it was. As if Space Walk Shirley herself had left it for me to find. Among all the annoyingly menu'd and dull sounding digital synths and keyboards sat this sad little wood trimmed clunker. I could recognize it was an old Korg just by the knobs and sliders alone. What could this be? An old string ensemble perhaps?

A 1970’s Korg “Micro-Preset Synthesizer”…
Pre-Midi…
Pre-digital…
Pre-polyphonic…
Pre-historic…
Analog…
Synthesizer…

Back when no one called them “synths” (except for Queen on the inserts of the albums, when they pompously proclaimed there were “no synths” on the albums… As if 30 multilayered guitar tracks is some how more “honest” and “real” than a Mini-Moog…)

Now begins the debate…
“Should I buy it?”

I have gone through this every single time I buy something really cool… I did it when I bought the Midi/GR Ibanez in 1989… I went through it when I bought the GR-500… I did it when I walked into Songbird Music and saw the Key Bass looking up at me with its puppy-dog eyes… And I did it when I purchased the mighty GR-300…

Why do I even go through this guilt-ridden self torture? If you have any ideas let me know.

Meanwhile I’m going to scan the Santa’s Hamburgers place-mat I brought back with me on Monday.

Tuesday July 30, 2002: Contacts

I went to MBK today in search of new contact lenses. The ones I’ve been wearing have begun to bother me, and after last summer’s eye ordeal I went off today to fix the situation. Contacts here, like everything else are inexpensive. I had from a reliable source that there were several optical shops on the main floor of MBK. Now, I’ve only been on the main floor of MBK once, and that was a year and a half ago when I had first arrived. So walking in to the street level entrance was sort of like discovering a whole new shopping mall. It had all the same stuff as the other 7 floors, but it was just arranged slightly different.

I found the optical shop and pick up 3 pairs of contacts and assorted potions for a mere 700 baht. Then I went off to experience the Bangkok fast food joint that I’ve been curious about since I arrived.

Santa’s Hamburgers!

Did you know that Santa makes hamburgers? No? Well apparently jolly old Saint Nick has a sideline. I thought he spent the whole year round widdling toy horses or lording over a toy factory sweat shop full of underpaid elves.

Nope!

Santa’s busy making The Super Bacon Burger (64 baht), the Fish Burger (44 baht) and of course Santa’s Fried Chicken (39 baht). No fast food shop in Asia is complete without a big menu of bizarre, and by western standards unappetizing choices like Super Snow Pork with Rice, Fish Nuggets and Rice, or the confusingly named Tarter Puffs. Do they mean “taters” as in potatoes? Or do these weird looking lumps contain tarter sauce? I don’t know, because I settled for the Super Bacon Burger combo for 89 baht.

Today was full of bargains…

I must say, the food was good. I was expecting something at least equally as disgusting as Jolly Bee, but in fact I rather enjoyed my tasty burger. That is until about two hours after I’d eaten it. The fries were actually outstanding, and root beer is always good for a bout of hiccups. Stomach repercussions aside, I would say that Santa makes a fine burger.

I walked back to Evergreen and sorted out the contact situation. OH TO SEE CLEARLY! What a joy! The lack of stinging is also a relief.

Sunday July 28, 2002: Snowy Goes

Last night Snowy headed back to the UK for a while. I went up to her and her sister’s apartment and had “Chicken Treat” with them and a Brit friend of theirs whose name escapes me now. We sat around, watched the dreadful “Flintstones: Viva Rock Vegas” movie on HBO and ate. The Snowy and Zarah show was far more entertaining. I still only understand about one third of what comes out of Zarah’s mouth.

Anand came by at around 10:10 pm and picked up Snowy. I drove out to the airport with them and saw Snowy off. Anand did one of his “amazing feats of strength” when he suddenly lifted Snowy’s “might be overweight” suitcase out of the back of his car and carted it over to the luggage trolley. I drove back into Bangkok with Anand and we yacked all the way back to Evergreen.

Today was all about passport photos and getting out of the tropical rain. (One thing I look forward to is someday not having to fuss with visas and passport photos anymore!) I had them taken at the little Fuji shop down the street and then headed to Central Chit Lom and bought some blank CD’s and a few blank cassettes. Then I came back to Ratchathewi and wandered the Hollywood I.T. Center in search of things to load onto my computer. I found a virtual synth/drum machine set up called “Reason” that I picked up. I can run the Midi in or out from the sound card I have now, so I could hook it up to the Zoom box… I realize that I could record directly onto my PC; however I don’t have the outboard mixing gear that would make that truly a good idea. So for now…

I ate at Fresh Milk, then went to 7-11 and got supplies. I made a stop at the fruit vender then went back to the Fuji shop and picked up the passport photos. They are the first ones I can recall having done where I don’t look like I’m dying. My hair is also oddly long. Maybe those pictures aren’t really me.

Saturday July 27, 2002: Milk and Nook

I called the 8th floor Café because I had made tea, and discovered that I had no milk left. The idea was to order just a glass of milk. However the first person to answer thought I wanted a “capo nook”. After a great deal of discussion about “nook” and what it might or might not be, Joom came on the line. She also thought I wanted “nook”. Spelling the word “milk” didn’t help. I began trying to think of other ways to describe it, but each thing I said only made it worse. Then I hit pay dirt…

“Cow juice!”

“ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….”

But I had to specify that I wanted “a cup of…” as the expression “a glass of…” seemed to confuse things once again.

This whole incident made me think of my nephew Jon, who as a boy called chocolate milk “cogin nuck”.

Monday July 22, 2002: Free Memory

One thing that has always either annoyed me, or absolutely angered me about the Roland 303 Groove Box is that 90 percent of its memory is taken up with crap sounds and crap drum patterns. Sounds and patterns that some unimaginative halfwit programmed in 1996 THINKING that they sounded cool. Patterns that gobble up space that I could be using for more important things. Like God’s work. Like SNOWMELTER!

The Korg ER-1 has a similar problem... It came from the factory packed full of stupid drum patterns that either annoy me, or make me want to throw it against the wall. HOWEVER... Korg has allowed me the option of deleting the offending drum patterns.

Tonight I spent a hour and a half scrolling through the ER-1’s memory and deleting patterns one by one. I have been meaning to do this since I bought the machine nearly 2 years ago. I always had this idea of waiting until I got back to Toronto, however it could wait no longer. Goodbye to “Old Skool”, farewell to “Bass drum slam”, die a painful death “Annoying Hip Hop Crap Loop”...

Yes, over 200 patterns felt the wrath of my delete button tonight. Patterns that were crammed full of 1998 dance cliches, and far too much “hand claps” and tinny flange amd rinky-dink delay. It amazes me that a machine as analog sounding and thick as the ER-1 was programmed full of so many tinny tiny digital FM sounding crap drum patterns.

Blasphemy!!

But they are gone now... gone forever. So next time Space Walk Shirley comes to visit I won’t have to waste time trying to find a blank pattern.

In other news...

Dr Gaz, the HBCW of BKK has waved his sonic screwdriver and behold...

MY COMPUTER IS WORKING... Not just working... WORKING BETTER. Faster... stronger...

We took a trip over to the big I.T. plaza and I picked up another 256 MGS of RAM, and a new fancy-pants soundcard... Dr Gaz loaded up the box with the vittles, and slapped in Windows XP, amoung other things and now I am the owner of a much better computer than I had a year ago.

HURRAY!!

Saturday July 20, 2002: Born, Never Asked

It was a large room. Full of people. All kinds. And they had all arrived at the same building at more or less the same time. And they were all free. And they were all asking themselves the same question: What is behind that curtain?

You were born. And so you’re free. So happy birthday.

— Laurie Anderson

Friday July 19, 2002: The Bumheads

Thursday July 18, 2002: Food, candles and things

Rain, rain, rain.
Chicken, Cashew nuts, and rice for lunch.
The candles work. Tiny stars are projected and flicker around the edges of the tub.

I have begun reading “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron again. Sweet JL gave me a copy before all THIS started. I did it in 2000 while looking out the window of BSA Towers, but... I feel the need to go through it all once more. A tool to clear the ruins and wreckage from what once was but is no more.

Donovan sings and I establish a no-fly zone to insure safety and security. Tonight Space Walk Shirley comes over. I look forward to that.

Wednesday July 17, 2002: Blue Lagoon

I got your letter. Thanks a lot. I’ve been getting lots of sun. And lots of rest. It’s really hot. Days, I dive by the wreck. Nights, I swim in the blue lagoon. Always used to wonder who I’d bring to a desert island. Days, I remember cities. Nights, I dream about a perfect place. Days, I dive by the wreck. Nights, I swim in the blue lagoon. Full fathom five thy father lies. Of his bones are coral made. Those are pearls that were his eyes. Nothing of him that doth fade. But that suffers a sea change. Into something rich and strange. And I alone am left to tell the tale. Call me Ishmael. I got your letter. Thanks a lot. I’ve been getting lots of sun. And lots of rest. It’s really hot. Always used to wonder who I’d bring to a desert island. Days, I remember rooms. Nights, I swim in the blue lagoon. I saw a plane today. Flying low over the island. But my mind was somewhere else. And if you ever get this letter. Thinking of you. Love and kisses. Blue Pacific. Signing off.

— Laurie Anderson

Tuesday July 16, 2002: Moon Landings

Korg ER 1 midi clock EXT
Zoom MRS 4 midi out to ER 1 midi in
Zoom metronome clock 150 BPM
Korg ER1 L/R 1/4 inch out to Tracks 1 & 2

Tracks 1 & 2 — Low Bass growl drum, low pong hum, little chimes
Track 3 — Tap/click Bass sequence
Track 4 — Snare & bass drum sequence

Tracks 1 to 4 bounced to Track 1 Vtrack 8 & Track 2 Vtrack 8
Track 3 — far off swirl sound

Saturday July 13, 2002: Raiders of the Lost Crap

Today it arrived, “The Spoils of War”. All 4.5 Cubic meters. Things I haven’t seen in almost a year. Ten wonderful boxes, to open, unwrap, unpack, like the Christmas I really didn’t have last year.

The crew boss arrived first, there being papers to sign and many crisp 1000 Baht notes to change hands. He was the same fellow who had come to pick up the stuff originally in 2001, from Superdry’s old pad. He remembered that, but oddly forgot picking up the additional box of things I didn’t want to take to Prague. That box contained one of my most valued and most missed possessions; the Korg ER-1 Analog drum machine.

His minions were busy down in the loading zone, “uncrating” the boxes. I had visions of “local” workers toiling with crowbars under the supervision of a young Harrison Ford. They would be a superstitious lot, ready to run away babbling at the first sign of an ancient artifact. Once the papers were signed, and I had paid him, they came like little sweaty elves. They seemed somewhat disappointed that I wasn’t going to let them unpack, or open the boxes up in front of them. What could be in those boxes? Could there be an ancient artifact? A mummy? Perhaps trinkets or clues to an ancient lost civilization. That was a question I was actually asking myself.

The first box I cracked open after they’d all left contained a suitcase that had been left at LP4 by Heir W’s ex-girlie Jenny. It had apparently contained some rather provocative photographs of Jenny, which Susie discovered and held in safe keeping. When we scooted out of Manila in 2001 Jenny’s suitcase got thrown in a box (sans photo spread) by the movers and ended up being shipped over here. I actually took it to down to Koh Samui last summer, and when I popped it open today it contained the same things it had after my return last July. My original Playstation, some games, a few CD’s, and some mix tapes. Most importantly not just some mix tapes but THE ULTIMATE MIX TAPE! A tape I had made myself before I left Canada, back when this whole adventure was only supposed to last six months.

Jen called as I slapped it in the ghetto blaster and I talked to her while I pulled this and that out of various boxes.

THE ULTIMATE MIX TAPE – Dubbed Jan 28, 2000

Side one – Vanilla : SLURP – Scream Like A Baby : DAVID BOWIE – St Elmo’s Fire : BRIAN ENO – De Ja Vu : CROSBY STILLS NASH & YOUNG – Here Comes The Flood : PETER GABRIEL – Sour Times : PORTISHEAD - California Dream Line : THE RHEOSTATICS – Aftermath : TRICKY – So Whatcha Want? : THE BEASTIE BOYS – Loser : BECK – Hits From The Bong : CYPRESS HILL – Hurdy Gurdy Man : DONOVAN

Side Two – Quicksand : DAVID BOWIE – Alone : COLIN NEWMAN – Human Behavior – BJORK – Born Under Punches : TALKING HEADS – No Self Control : PETER GABRIEL – Rok It To The Moon : THE STRANGLERS – Only A Northern Song : THE BEATLES – Making Plans For Nigel : XTC – Backwaters : DAVID SYLVIAN – Ahead : WIRE – The Shutout : THE WALKER BROTHERS – Islands : NASH THE SLASH

I talked to Jen for about twenty minutes and described the indescribable crap I was pulling out of one box. A tiny toy Bruce Lee… A plastic squeak toy crocodile… Books, photos, notes, slips of paper that have no meaning… and the hard things to look at. The museum of a broken heart. A toy moose in a Mountie Uniform M sent me when I was bummed out in the summer of 2000… A small bear M gave me… The gifts she got me in Hong Kong for Christmas… Trinkets from this place or that. Where we had walked together or I held her hand. Stuff I have put out of my mind…

Then came other exhibits from the same museum… A wind up musical box that Khea bought me… the strange wooden thing Small L gave me when I was sick last summer. And so on.

Part of me kept wondering “whose stuff is this? Who was this guy? Why did he keep all these things?”

It was like digging through some ancient crypt to find the bones and bit of your past life. The person you were THEN. That guy, who thought THOSE things, and did THAT stuff. The guy who died last year from a high fever. The fellow who drown in the surf. I vaguely remember him. But here was the proof he existed.

THEN came the Journals. The handwritten scribblings. Now, of course, I know how the story ended. Reading my entries from January 2000 where down right weird though. That unguarded, unedited style of writing not seen on any web journal. What actually happened and what I actually thought. Lines like, “Blank’s wife’s fake tits popping out like money seeking missiles.”

The excavation carried on well into the late afternoon. Each box revealing more and more glimpses of someone I was or some where I lived. Letters, socks, a plastic Colonel Sanders grasping a secret recipe book, a tin full of seashells I collected for M. Cassettes, Playstation games, CD’s, CD’s and more CD’s. T-shirts I’ve never worn. T-shirts I never will wear. My Globe trainers I bought in Hong Kong. Candle holders; incense holders, little ornate boxes, and a things I had filled my room at LP4 with to make it more like home. A pair of brand new Guess Jeans I bought in Manila and have worn about 4 times. A model SAS Jeep, two cans of spray paint. A shoe horn. A Jolly Bee mug that Geri bought me. More CD’s, more cassettes. A little travel guitar? (How is it that my travel guitar is in storage but my regular size one isn’t?) Software, speakers, wires, plugs, adapters, power bars… (Why so many power bars?) My Roland Sampler, my Yamaha sampler, midi cables, RCA cables, 1/4 inch cables, my nice Roland headphones, jacks, plugs, guitar books, note books and photographs. I found hundreds and hundreds of photographs, and an equal number of negatives. I didn’t even bother looking at them. Not today. Maybe another day.

Snooty the fish swam around in his tube tank, the ghetto blaster played more mix tapes, and I jumped back and forth between being overjoyed by what I’d found, confused by it, startled or upset by it. Some of it went straight back into another box and into the closet.

I saved the two most exciting boxes for last. The computer and its monitor. I unpacked them, and set them up on the desk in my room. Something is a wrong though. Perhaps being packed in a wooden crate for almost year is bad for a computer. It opens, crashes, seizes up, and ultimately will only open up in SAFE MODE. SAFE MODE is when your Pentium 3 looks like a 386 running Windows 3.1. It should be called SHIT MODE, or maybe USELESS MODE. I will have to get the local HBCN, Gary to look at it.

I had hoped to finish the day off loading RED ALERT 2 “Uri’s Revenge” into the beast but that will have to wait. Instead I went for a walk out to MBK, and the Siam Center. I bought a ticket for tomorrow’s 4:20 p.m. showing of “Minority Report”, and then had some Pho Ga for dinner.

Thursday July 11, 2002 : Top Gun

I was really busy during the 1980’s. What was I doing you ask? Well, let’s just say that I wasn’t being absorbed the pre-nostalgia collective. I wasn’t listening those crappy “80’s” hits; I wasn’t watching TV, and some how I managed NOT to see the movie “Top Gun”.

Until now.

In my opinion “Top Gun” contains all the worst things about the 1980’s; bad music, bad clothes, bad hair and bad Rambo/Reagan politics.

Let’s start with the opening song “Danger Zone” or whatever its called. Phrases like “danger zone”, “desire, fire, burning higher” and “heat of the night” were all too common back then. 80’s testosterone-headband-rock, with its tight leather trousers and Mel Gibson mullet irked me beyond words. Listening to it now, I know why. It sucked. Thankfully that music is as dead as it is bad, which is a pleasant reminder that I can expect some of today’s equally shitty musical trends to die as well.

So, let’s see if I can follow the story. Tom Cruise is a pilot on an aircraft carrier, The USS Kevin Bacon, and his friend has a mustache left over from the 70’s. Then they meet the good looking guy from “Roxanne” but unfortunately Steve Martin isn’t in this movie to make it funny. Principal “You’re a slacker, McFly” Strictland from “Back To the Future” yells a lot, in that angry Police Captain way, then they go to a bar. Tom sings some Karaoke and then they all go to the special Pilots with poofy hair school.

Why don’t I care about any of these people? Is it because Tom Cruise sings like Kevin Bacon dances? Or is because some goofball who saw this as a kid disobeyed orders (sort of like this “Maverick” idiot would have) and dropped a 500 pound bomb on some Canadian troops in Afghanistan. Whooooops… Sorry Captain!

There is civilian EXPERT who of course has sexy legs and big lipstick who shows up at the special flight school for misbehaving pilots. The movie then descends at Mach 5 in to cliché tailspin all wrapped up in hair gel and Ray Bans. In many ways this could just as well be a 1980’s cop movie.

It must have been difficult to make a modern war movie during the 80’s. You see the Americans really didn’t have anyone to fight. The “Evil Empire” of the USSR was already done for, and we were being primed to accept them as our pals. A war with the Russians was a fight that thankfully no one had the stomach for, except for Rocky. Iraq and Afghanistan were the Americans’ allies then, and the Baby Boomers were still all seeking collective cultural therapy for the War most of them never fought, but were either feeling guilty about or were pissed off for losing: Vietnam. So instead of making a modern war movie about a navy pilot they made a cop movie instead, and just substituted jets for cars, the civilian “expert” for a lawyer, and the bad guys for… bad guys.

Could this movie suck any more than it does? No.

It sucks like the air-intake on a supersonic fighter. It sucks to a sound track of plinky DX7’s, wheezy oodley oodley “heavy” guitars, and clattery Simons drums.

“In the heavy metal Navy you will learn guitar posturing and how to fly a jet! Port of call, Bombo Spain!”

The background music could have been lifted from “Karate Kid” or “Weird Science” for that matter. Awful, awful, awful.

Thirty minutes into the movie I was asking myself, “Do I really want to watch the rest or should I play Command & Conquer on my Playstation.”

When the first VCD disc ended I didn’t stick in the second one. I knew what happened even without watching the rest of the movie. How? Because I survived this over-rated decade. More stock footage of planes flying around, more Star Trek quality (the original series) shots of Tom “Maverick” Cruise in the pilot’s seat. The sexy civilian expert on Commie jets shows us her stockings, and no doubt the Top Gun pilots get to go up against that scourge of the 80’s…

The Libyans.

How do I imagine it ending? Principal Strictland gives Maverick his due and finally agrees that a shoot first and ask questions later approach is the way to go. The rival pilots all become pals, but only after one of them gets killed. Kevin Bacon runs like an idiot across the flight deck while the girl from “Flash Dance” welds some metal beams. Thankfully in the end Christopher Lloyd sends us “back to the future…” because, as Ronald Reagan said in one of his incoherent speeches… “Where we’re going we don’t need roads…”

Just airsickness bags.

Would someone please call Buckaroo Banzai!

Wednesday July 10, 2002: Backwaters

Once again I'm hiding in backwaters
Running this way and that
Trying so very hard to please

(Beware of hidden snares)

Rushing to bite the hand that feeds me
Running this way and that

(There are always other possibilities)

This way and that

- David Sylvian

Tuesday July 9, 2002 : Seen And Not Seen

He would see faces in movies, on T.V., in magazines, and in books....
He thought that some of these faces might be right for him....
And that through the years, by keeping an ideal facial structure fixed in his mind....
Or somewhere in the back of his mind....
That he might, by force of will, cause his face to approach those of his ideal....

The change would be very subtle....It might take ten years or so....
Gradually his face would change it's shape....
A more hooked nose...
Wider, thinner lips....
Beady eyes....A larger forehead.

He imagined that this was an ability he shared with most other people....
They had also molded their faces according to some ideal....
Maybe they imagined that their new face would better suit their personality....
Or maybe they imagined that their personality would be forced to change to fit the new appearance....
This is why first impressions are often correct...

Although some people might have made mistakes....
They may have arrived at an appearance that bears no relationship to them....
They may have picked an ideal appearance based on some childish whim, or momentary impulse....
Some may have gotten half-way there, and then changed their minds.

He wonders if he too might have made a similar mistake.

- David Byrne

Sunday July 7, 2002: SPS Presents

Cloudy season continues.

Up and about early. A bite at Fresh Milk, before picking up supplies. Then back to Evergreen for a day alone with Space Walk Shirley. The newest of the new ones slowly takes shape and I become more familiar with the functions of the Zoom Box. I find certain tape based 4-track habits hard to let go of. The reluctance to bounce, the desire for that uncluttered “Slurp” perfection. It is exactly opposite to my desire on the computer, which is to layer things and build 180 BPM constructs that would frighten the fans of Stan Rogers into a massive lemming-like rush off of a cliff. Some day perhaps the two things will resolve themselves. Or perhaps not.

The pool looked less inviting today. I glanced at it while tuning. It’s just too cloudy and windy. It’ll look better to me at 7:30 p.m. when I can’t see the clouds, and the pool is light up and a glowing blue.

10:30 p.m.

I slept at around 5:30 for about an hour. Dreams, dreams, dreams.
And what did I see?

Wouldn’t you like to know?

I did see Tungsten. Which surprised me. Usually it’s my Parents or Grand Mother who make that trip across the water. Then we are only provided with the comfort we require. If we believe in that sort of thing. Which of course, we don’t. We only believe in what is punching us in the head, and usually even that escapes us.

Am I writing this in my ON LINE JOURNAL?

Oh my!

I forgot.

I woke at 7:30 p.m. and did take a swim.

Saturday July 7, 2002: More TV

One thing I don’t miss about Toronto is the doing my laundry every other Sunday. That was a chore that seemed to eat several precious hours off my weekend, even though the Pine Laundry was only across the street and up a bit from my old place on Bathurst. I do miss “Bubbles Laundry” in Koh Samui, as it was inexpensive and they would fold everything quite nicely. There is a laundry “pick up” here at Evergreen, but the last year has made me cheap so I would rather just go down to the 8th floor and throw it in myself. Once I’ve done that, I can grab a towel and go up by the pool for a laze and a swim. This morning’s laze and a swim lasted the wash and rinse cycles, then the 45 minutes drying time. I had a bite, and then as it got extremely windy and menacing clouds blew in I collected my clothes and went to the café for a tea.

I spent the afternoon half watching a VCD of “Ocean’s Eleven” while I finished writing a letter. Then I was hit by this weird fatigue, which there was no arguing with. I crashed out at around 5:30 p.m. and woke quite starved at 9:00 p.m. Today was Banana 1’s Birthday so I had expected to hear from someone about the proceedings but the call never came. I settled instead for a quite evening of watching TV, and practicing guitar. I managed to see the tail end of “Red Planet”. It was only slightly better than “Mission To Mars” and I wonder why it is that a movie about going to Mars always sucks. Is it because there’s nothing really interesting there? Or is it because Hollywood is afraid to actually make a Science Fiction movie? Everything has to be diluted with the desired to be “accurate” in its portrayal of the future. What you end up with is the Discovery Channel and borrowed themes that were original when they appeared in movies like “Alien” or “Blade Runner” twenty years ago. The other problem is that whole computer generated effects thing. The more I see it, the more I recognize it, and the more fake it looks. The truth is “2001: A Space Odyssey” will still look good in 20 years. Movies like this won’t. Our children’s children will laugh at the effects the way we laughed at those 1930’s “Buck Rogers” films… or the 1970’s “Buck Rogers” for that matter.

“Look Grandpa, that robot looks so FAKE!”

And speaking of REALLY BAD DATED MOVIES…

What did I catch the last night? The last 15 minutes of the “He Man” movie. I’d forgotten they’d even made one.

“By the power of my mighty blond Mullet I command you!”

Oh, it was so awful I wished that I had seen the whole thing. They had the token 80’s teens dressed in pastel colors, and even Principal “You’re a slacker, McFly” Strictland from “Back To The Future” armed with a shotgun who was in it. They had some how been transported to the world of He-Man. A world full of samurai-stormtroopers, greased bodies and really dumb dialog. You will be amazed at how much this sucks! You will be astounded at how much money was spent making this! He-man of course goes up against Skeletor and saves the day with his big hair, big pecks and big sword. The shot of Skeletor falling to his doom down some shaft looked an awful lot like Darth Maul’s demise. Hmmmmm… Did George Lucas see this? There was a happy ending which I wasn’t really paying attention to (still trying to play the first bit of “I Advanced Masked” with out screwing it up) then after the credits are finished Skeletor pops out of this liquid goo and says “I’ll be back”…

Actually you won’t.

I ordered food from the café, watched “Sex And The City”, then practiced guitar some more. “Out Of Africa” was on, but I couldn’t watch it. I know it is a “classic” and has some great actors in it, and yes, it won a million prizes, but… for me movies about Africa are almost as interesting as movies about Mars. This also had that weird smear of Anti-British sentiment that often poisons American period films. The English are portrayed as ignorant, racist and small minded. Of course none of the Americans of the early 1900’s were like that.

Click.

Time for bed.

Thursday July 4, 2002: Thursday Night TV

Channel 0 - Evergreen Lobby TV:
Tonight Blank tries to sneak a 14-year-old past the female front desk staff who are distracted by Blank, who’s trying to chat them up.

Channel 1 — Confusing Thai Game Show:
People yell, things fall down! There are plenty of prat-falls and sound effects so the Farang can laugh too. It’s bizarre, and that in itself is entertaining. One reassuring thing about this is that Thais have a sense of humor. This trait is not evident in the TV broadcasts of the neighboring countries.

Channel 2 — endless skin whitener advertisements:
Farang foolishly (and vainly) think the locals are trying to imitate the white race. Wrong you silly potato. The whitening of skin goes back right to the same reason Europeans did it hundreds of years ago. Dark skin means you’re poor and from the country. White skin means you’re rich and some one else picks your crops.

Channel 3 — Who Want To Be A Million-Baht-aire?:
For 30, 000 Baht… How can the host’s mustache be so perfectly trimmed?

1) It was trimmed with a razor
2) It was trimmed with a laser
3) It was glued on
4) It was drawn on with a technical pen

Channel 4 — Sports Focus:
50 minutes of mobile phone adverts and 10 minutes of Muay Thai kick boxing. Not as interesting as it was during the World Cup.

Channel 5 — Country Road:
The title no doubt comes from the song made famous the late John Denver, but for some reason they dropped the “S” off the end of “roads”. The lyrics on this show sound rather odd with all the “R’s” becoming “L’s” and the TH’s disappearing completely. The show is set in a “Pig N Whistle” type bar/saloon, the band and the audience all gussied up in ten-gallon hats and denim. Everyone is clearly enjoying themselves, and without the Temperance Society’s ghosts that haunt Western TV, why not? Those are REAL shots of whisky that they’re knocking back. Despite the pronunciation problems, the band is quite good, especially the fiddler. Who would have thought that I’d hear a fiddle player with that skill in Thailand?

What makes this show so bizarre for me to watch isn’t that it’s a bunch of Thais dressed up as cowpokes playing old country standards. What makes this show entertaining beyond compare is how some old Farang wandered up on stage? He is the token white and I can’t help but imagining “his story” whenever I see him.

It was 30 years ago when he landed in Bangkok. He was young man then, and he was tired… damned tired… All he ever wanted to do was be a country singer. But the War came. The first one, that is. Then the second one. Then the Korean one. He’d made corporal by the time the Vietnam conflict came, and when it was all over he just couldn’t go back to American. He’d found Bangkok. Sure he’d never live his dream to play guitar “Hee Haw”, but every week he’s there on “Country Road”, like some kind of Country and Western Crypt Keeper. Singing those Hank Snow songs like someone whom really means it. The audience loves him, and the band clearly respects him.

Break a leg, Bud! No, maybe that’s not a good idea.

Channel 6 — Football Channel:
More World Cup Reruns

Channel 7 — Bangkok PD Blues:
Snooty and Duncewin shake down a local Tuk Tuk driver who’s been supply Farang boiler room operators with databases of non-English speaking Chinese businessmen. They want their cut!

Channel 8 — Evergreen Lobby TV:
Blank, Blank and Blank are all dolled up and heading out with Blank.

Channel 9 — Graft Commission Live:
More hearings and half time like commentary on South East Asia’s favorite number one past time. Bribery. Tonight’s show features a wide variety of eyewear.

Channel 10 — Malaysian Jihad Jamboree:
People dressed in Malaysian military uniforms sing, dance and whoop it up for the troops. The band features a Glen Baranca style platoon of 8 electric guitarists. Music is notably Arabic in styling. The Singer is dressed conservatively and the Brown Beret Dancers look confused and drunk. Better Music than MTV though.

Channel 11 — CNBC:
Get out your laptop, comb your mullet and pretend to be a day-trader! Endless scrolling stock quotes that pass to quickly to read and strange graphs add to today’s current market confusion. Tonight’s feature: Why Has Everyone Forgotten What It Was Like In 1988?

Channel 12 — TV5 The French Channel:
The only place you’ll find televised nudity. Also the only place to find out what’s happening in Canada.

Channel 13 — MTV Asia:
Tonight’s feature is “Cribs”. A guided tour through the homes of the over paid and under talented artists that we will soon forget. An unknown rapper shows off a large number of oil paintings of himself. A certain boy band member comes out of his walk-in shoe storage Mrs. Marcos eat your heart out closet. No one will actually have any instruments or a home recording set-ups in their luxury villas; just cars, self-portraits, gold plated butt-nozzles and cement ponds. This show is proof that the music industry is exactly that.

Channel 14 — Star Sports:
WHO CARES? NOT ME!

Channel 15 — BBC:
The Empire is dead, and so is this channel. For some reason it is usually frozen endlessly on the face of that obnoxious Hard Talk host. When the BBC does occasionally spring back to life it is accompanied by a voice over translation in Japanese. Gamma approaching Tokyo. Toy electric train derailed by man in lizard suit. The war is not over; this is an American trick! Continue to hide in the jungle and shoot the locals with your rusty rifle!

Channel 16 — Australian Broadcast Corporation:
World News, and a nightly “Caught On Video” feature of Paul Hogan being attacked by an “Asian gang”. A whole new generation of criminals is choosing Down Under as their home. That’s not a knife… THIS is a knife…

Channel 17 — Your Guess Is As Good As Mine:
Some guy is talking at what looks like a high school assembly. The problem is the microphone he’s talking into is off so you can only hear his voice as it echoes off the back the building.

“Is this on? Thank you fellow kids. In addressing for the assembly this morning…. I am recalling the words of the foundry, uh founder of More Science High School, Ukipah Heap who pressed the first bricks with his own hands…”

(audience member : Who cares!)

“Knowledge for the pupil, the people, he said, give them a light and they’ll follow it anywhere. We think that is a fair and a wise guy who ruled… to be guided by.”

(audience member : What is reality?)

“and we’re not afraid of it, are we?”

(audience member : Eat it!)

“You bet!”

(audience member : Eat it raw!)

“Raw raw raw! That’s the spirits we have here! So come on kids… Line up, sign up, and re-enlist today, because we need more schooling, for more students, for More Science High!”

(audience member: Boooooo!)

Channel 18 — CCTV 2 Mysterious Loud Chinese Game Show:
Next question… for a years supply of beets… The host’s bizarre brown suit with three-foot wide collars is covered in…

1) A water resistant polymer
2) MacTac
3) Alternated strips of sheen and gloss Testor’s burnt umber
brown model airplane paint
4) An advanced form of fire resistant polyester

Channel 19 — The Vegetable Channel:
Endless shots of the 5-year agricultural plan. Roots, roots and more roots, being planted, growing and being picked, as a saccharine Casio keyboard plays the “Chariots Of Fire” theme. Communist China uses TV not as a tool of mass consumer brain-washing… but as a tool to help push the People toward the glorious future. If we can get these beets picked on time we might even catch up to the 20th Century. Truly inspiring, Comrade!

Channel 20 — CCTV 7: The Chinese Military News Broadcast:
You will be astounded as cheery men and women report the news dressed like South American dictators, with giant clown like green forage caps trimmed in scarlet and gold. Their uniforms boast of shinny buttons, and their shoulders have epaulets you could land a damaged American spy plane on.

They shout all the official news in staccato high-pitched yipping.

“The People’s Republic of China has no HIV/AIDS problem, comrades. Ours is the highest standard of living in the world. It is only the decant West that has that problem… This just in, the People’s Republic has agreed to become a member of the WTO, but only so they will stop pestering us to join...”

Channel 21 — Discovery Channel:
Animals change, volcanoes erupt, and scientists look into microscopes. She blinded me…. With science!

Channel 22 — Japanese TV:
24-hour children’s programming with grown-ups dressed as insects or animals, shrieking into microphones and leading children in strange songs and dances. Occasionally has a special women’s feature on skin whitener application.

Channel 23 — ESPN:
CLICK!

Channel 24 — HBO:
Occasionally showing a good movie but don’t count on it. Universal Soldier Returns and House on Haunted Hill run 3 times a day. Now showing “Crash Point Zero”… again.

Channel 25 — CNN:
Let’s see… Top Stories… War and destruction in Middle East. Crime in the USA. Pollution and global warming warnings from scientists. Accidents involving airliners. Senseless terrorist killings. Troubles in Northern Island. Earthquakes in South America, and Floods somewhere in India. Starvation and War in Africa, and no mention of Canada.

This is news? These are the same news stories I watched with my Father in 1976! The only thing that’s changed is the hairstyles and the width