Living in a surrealist painting

I was out for dinner with some friends tonight, at Havana. Lovely summer evening, good spot on the patio, lots of people out. Sweet air. Then...then. There was a naked man at the restaurant. Well, just outside the restaurant. He didn't start out naked, he started out doing an interpretive dance in the middle of the street, then having an intimate experience with the doorway of a building. I was happy to be on the other side of the patio. Because then he couldn't stand his clothes anymore. Naked! Dancing around, and the table full of people right next to him had his wee teeny penis waving right over their plates. He proudly had a Canadian flag tattoo on his shoulder. I don't know why that made it even more interesting, but it did. Some police came eventually and then an ambulance, lots of people stopped to watch him dancing naked in the street, stopping traffic. He had such a small penis, and was pretty round, a fleshy bum, but he was so unconcious of himself. It was pretty fascinating, it made for a lot of chatter at the restaurant.



Well, here I am in the country...still....was only supposed to be here for two days, but the day I got here my darling mummy had a very bad fall and broke one of her wrists and sprained the other one. I had to postpone my flight home until this coming Tuesday as she is, well, without hands. Her sprain is getting better, which makes me feel a little better about leaving, and she didn't have to have surgery on her broken wrist, which was very good news indeed.

I have to say, I'm not sad to have a reason to be up here for longer. Though I occasionally hit my patience wall with my mum, she has a hard time letting me take care of her and wants to do more than she is able, it has been lovely to spend so much time with her. There has been some pretty good visiting with friends, as well, a couple of bitchin' parties at the Caravan. Plus there's a cabaret tomorrow night on my mum's property. It's called "The Horse Cabaret" and is outdoors from the evening into the night. Many different acts celebrating people's life with horses. This is major horse country, after all. Anyway, even more friends and family are coming and staying here, so it will be quite an evening. I have to spend all day tomorrow cleaning up my mum's studio, which is an epic task. She paints, is a silversmith and designs sets for the theatre, so there's a lot of stuff, tools, materials, books...stuff...stuff...but she needs to get it done and now really can't do it herself. I cleaned her room and did her laundry already, so that's done.

It was weird when she fell, outwardly I took care of her and was good in the emergency, but it really flipped me out. I think I'm a little nervous about my parents' health now. I had to be reminded that she wasn't sick or dying, she just broke her wrist. But she was so shocked when she fell, and it was pretty spectacular, so she was crying and crying and really embarassed and I held her in my arms until she calmed down and it was like cradling a five year old child. But now she's pretty chipper for the most part and really wants to lift heavy things. I keep having to get stern with her.

I'll be home Tuesday afternoon and back on high speed, this dial up business is nonsense.



Pucker Up

Soooo...I'm in a Fringe show. Auditioned, got a part on the spot. Very satisfying. Also got a call from a comic friend of mine today, he wants me on a show he's organizing, a charity event. Very sweet to be asked to do shows. I know I've mentioned it before, but it surprises me when it happens. I think it's only been a few times.

I'll be rehearsing and then performing this show quite a bit, so standup might be a bit slow for a while. One or two shows a week. I'll see how the rehearsal schedule shakes down, man.

Okay, I have grown impatient with the helper elves at Blogger. I'm just turning the commenting back on. In conversation tonight I determined it was my own reaction to the comments that bothered me more than the comments. So. Back to normal. Whew. (Shakes fist at bees).

Sweet dreams, darlings. May you, each and every one of you, be kissed tomorrow.



Steady as she goes!

Darlings, just so you know, I am currently in discussions with the helper elves on this site to ascertain whether there is a way of you all becoming members without me having to invite you. If there is not, I will turn regular commenting back on and delete any annoying anonymous ones. Ha! At first I felt like deleting comments was cheating, but I am now over that.

Yesterday I walked up Commercial Drive and it was most definitely SUMMER. I saw an old man, maybe late 70's, saying goodbye to a much taller, pretty young woman. As they hugged he grabbed her ass, but the kind of grab where I swear I saw a couple of fingers go crotchways. It was slightly obscene and terribly amusing. I was wearing a summer dress, finally hot enough, and the Portuguese men were all very appreciative. Vocally appreciative. It was all around a very chatty and social day.

I had a scrabble date and won both the games we played. I swear it's all this online scrabble I've been playing. I'm super smart!

All day long, today, as I was sweatily delivering flowers, I was thinking in very clever prose. And the thoughts were profound. In fact, this has been going on a lot the last few days. The writing in my head is amazing. Somehow, when I get to here, it sort of peters out. Or, rather, I have spent myself on thinking and now have little left to offer. I think I'll start taking my little digital recorder with me in the car, that way I can make sure to record my brilliance for posterity.

On Saturday the flower shop had to floralize FIVE weddings. It was the most insane day. Pandemonium, actually, is the best way to describe it. Utter mayhem. I had no idea there were so many kinds of floral emergencies. All in all the whole day was not organized the way I would have organized it. My boss seems to try to keep all the information for everything in her head, without really disseminating it in any kind of useful way. So if she forgets something, no one can help her to remember. It becomes an emergency later. So. Here's the thing. In two weeks we have TEN weddings on ONE DAY. We, I believe, are going to need some help. People should get in touch with me via email if they would like to be part of the rusty old machine of ours and make some mothers of the brides happy little campers. It's crazy, but it's flowers. Strapping young men with good work ethics and a big smile. Oh, yes, I want my day to be more pleasant, too...so, you know, hence the request for strapping young men. Ladies also welcome. Be ready to lift a lot of things.

I'm off in a few minutes to audtition for a Fringe show. I would LOVE to do a Fringe show this year. It's been a couple of years. I have such a good time being around the festival, so much flirting and the like, you may remember from my descriptions last year. But I like it sooooooo much better when I'm in a show. My presence feels legitimized.

Generally feeling calmer than I have been the last few weeks. Let's all applaud the Gods of pleasantry. I think their names are Seth, Riley and Bowen, (these are the names of my stepmother,s* gardeners).

*NB: Um, please excuse the punctuation error - my apostrophe and slash keys are now french ees. Like this - è or É. I have no idea how this happened. I am stumped and without four precious punctuation marks.

What else....oh yes. I'm going here for the next few days:

Also, if you look back in the blog, there's a picture of the view from my mummy's place, very spectacular. I was bucking for three days of rest in the country, but now I've been hired by my mother to clean her studio. She is swamped getting the Caravan show opened and has an "Art Studio Tour" coming through her place shortly after, so she needs a little help. Oh, well. Working my ass off in the 37 degree heat, no problem, right? Oh, man. I'm gonna come back all emaciated. What will happen to my beautiful breasts!!!

My plan upon my return, other than flowers for TEN weddings, is to get back on stage. It has been very good to take a little time off, but it's back to it next week. So keep your peepers peeled for show updates. And keep reading, because I think I'm going to start writing fiction and stuff here. Actually, I have an idea to start another blog, actually anonymously, even you guys wouldn't know about it, that is erotica. A journal of a love affair. A fictional love affair, (says me). I'm toying with it. I think it would be fun.

So, I don't know if I'll be posting from up there, just because of how much time I'll need to be in the lake when I'm not working, so hear from me next weekish. If you're very, very well behaved while I'm gone, I'll come back with good stories.

I kiss you on both cheeks.



Just a bunch of yakkin'.

I was working at Granville Island today, at the flower shop, and, as usual, was working outside so tourists were asking many questions all day long. And mostly not about plants or flowers. Mostly asking for directions to washrooms, restaurants and other and sundry sights. Except for these two American ladies who came to me, (me?), to let me, (me?), know that there was a backpack left all alone around the corner of our shop. They felt compelled to inform someone and were obviously too afraid to touch it. My heart went out to those dear ladies, who spend the majority of their time in a country paralyzed by THE FEAR instilled in them every single day by their very own government and media. Tsk tsk. I went and got the backpack and looked inside. Sneakers and a bicycle helmet. Took it to lost and found. Poor, poor Americans. Then someone, a Canadian, for Chrissakes, said that they were very afraid of backpacks now. Sigh. Can we just get on with things, people? Either something will happen or it won't, but we aren't serving ourselves or each other by living with pervasive low grade fear. Concentrate on being kind and aware and taking care of yourself and your loved ones.

Now I'm home and I have to say, I'm not enjoying my home anymore. Doesn't really seem like MY home. Feels cramped, claustrophobic and like there's nowhere to be unless I want to be sleeping or watching TV. And if I'm watching TV, it's never anything I want, so that's pretty much out. These days it's the Tour de Franced, all the time. As many times a day as it's broadcast, that's how much it's on our TV. And I just couldn't care less.

Any day now Paul is getting out of here, and it can't come a second too soon. No space anywhere. For moving or thinking or anything. I keep walking into furniture and tripping over things, it's like there's little pathways everywhere just to get around. I need a home where I can lie down on the floor sometimes. I love lying around on the floor. Reading the paper all spread out, stretching, whatever. I love it even more when I'm where my dog is. She lives with my mum in the country, and always when I visit there I immediately get down on the floor with her and snuggle up. She's huge, a great pyrenees/golden retriever cross we think. She likes it when she's lying on her side for me to lie on my back with my head on her tummy. Or cross legged next to her giving her a good brushing. Which inevitably leads to bagloads of dog hair. She is the furriest creature ever. I'm going up there on Tuesday so I'll get some cuddle time in with her soon. Hooray!

Yesterday one of the guys who runs a comedy night in town called and asked me to be on his show. I had to turn it down because I'll be out of town, but I like this business of people asking me to be on shows. Itsa nicea.

My baby brother has gone back out on tour as Ben Harper's videographer. It's only for three weeks, but I miss the hell out of him. I can't believe how blessed I am to have a brother like him and for us to be so close. I think I'm closer to him than to anyone else. I totally adore him. I don't like the idea of living in different cities, so we're kind of talking about moving back east together sometime in the next couple of years. It would serve both of our careers, I think, and a change would do both of us a world of good. It'd be hard, though, as well, to be so far away from our sainted mother. I'm not sure what our stepmum would do, she's not sure how much is in Vancouver for her if we're not here, but I'll warrant that in a couple of years she'll have found her own groove here.

Anyway, Ben Harper played here on Tuesday night, good show. Really good show. He and the band came into town on Monday so my brother and I got to spend a really laid back day with Ben on Tuesday. It was totally lovely. We had lunch and took Ben to look at bicycles and wandered around. We yakked and yakked about family and comedy and love and children and performing. About the three of us needing to keep the family ties tied. It was interesting to talk about performing with Ben, because we are on such different scales, but have so many of the same feelings about it. Neato.

I just got out of the shower and now I'm itchy as hell. What do you think that's about? I think I'll go walk around.

So, I kind of miss you guys commenting, so I'm thinking I'll turn the feature back on, but with the membership filter. You'd have to join to comment, and I guess I probably have to approve your membership. In fact, I think I'll go do that right now.

Also, I'm thinking of giving up my Friendster membership. I never, ever look at it. Ever. Unless I get an email saying someone wants to be my friend. It seems misleading to stay on there. Plus, I can't have so many email addresses, and a blog, and friendster, and flickr and whatever else I'm supposed to join and keep up with. I think it's different if you are in front of your computer more of the time, like all day at your desk, but, for me, and, I suspect, others like me, it's a bit too much time consumption just keeping up with everyone's activity. I'm thinking of going back to one email address, a landline with an old school answering machine, and that's it. Thinking of it. Juuuuuust thinking.



Anonymous Shmanonymous

Okay, my lovelies. No more comments. I'm shuttin' down the option. May bring it back, but it's getting kind of creepy. I'm happy if people I don't know read the thing, but if you think I'm a "bore and a trial", then quit reading. I had to have a little think about why I was writing this thing, and, to be perfectly honest, it's for me, not you. I don't need strangers making assumptions about what kind of person I am after reading only this. Well, I don't need them telling me what their guesses are, anyways. Read it, don't read it, complain to your friends, whatever. If you know me, send me emails. If you know me and can't tell me something without it being anonymous, then we are not close. Because if you were close to me, in which case your opinion would carry weight with me, you would know that these are the kinds of comments I can brook from people that love me, and you should have the balls to talk to me in person.

Of course I don't have a relationship because I'm too self involved, it's completely a choice at this point in my life to be self involved. I have spent an enormous amount of time and energy in my life trying to be what I thought other people wanted me to be and in order to pursue what I love, I have had to pull back a bit. My generous heart still beats, but I no longer give a shit whether random people like me, so I can focus on what I need.

God, it's so weird that I feel I have to defend myself against the ideas of strangers. I feel oddly paranoid wondering who wrote the "Anonymous" comment, who is so proud that they stirred up my anger bees. (As if they needed stirring. As if I am not in constant self examination mode, prioritizing and reprioritizing which of my flaws needs to be addressed.) It's made me try to figure out who it was, trying to imagine who I know who has perfect spelling and grammar, who writes like that. Then I feel sick, because it has made me question people I love. And this, in itself, was enough to make me decide I no longer want the comments.

My mother says I am too sensitive for this planet, which is probably true. I hear, see, feel everything, roll every sensation and thought and experience around in my body and my brain until I have examined every aspect, wondered what the lesson is, studying the lesson, trying to learn the lesson. There is hardly a moment when my brain isn't working, working, churning.

Of course, the stupid comments have made me think about myself, wonder if I know myself at all, and I hate that, because I have spent so long getting to the meat of me, and I think I know some pretty important things about myself. The thing is, if I'm going to have even a slightly public life, I'm going to have to get used to people thinking they know things about me even when they don't. People making assumptions about my whole self with only a sliver of the information.

You know, the two most important reasons I started this thing were so that I would write consistently without feeling the pressure of writing that I place on myself, and so people would know where my shows were happening. I'm feeling that to feel as free as I have to write what I want, I gotta do it in a bit of a bubble. It was never meant to be a conversation about me, I have enough of those, because, of course, being as self involved as I am, I love to talk about me. Which is a new trait. So, in order to keep nurturing the safety I was feeling in making my insides come out, again, no commenty. (In case you missed it the first three times I said it.)

God, this whole thing got under my skin. I need to go for a good long walk. I am so annoyed with myself for devoting any time and energy to this.

Okay, loved ones, it's less convenient to email, but have at 'er. If anyone I don't know feels compelled to comment, they can start their own blog, or forum, or whatever.

Big love,


I wonder...can you be a "bore and a trial" and "flawed, interesting and engaging"? I guess so, since apparently that's what one person thinks of me. You know, after reading the blog. (Why on earth you would keep reading when you found someone whiny, or a bore, or a trial...I have no idea).


The eddy of engaging

Is Anonymous the only one who thinks I've been a bit whiny lately? (You have to read the comment on the last post, plus my reply.) My roommates probably agree with Anonymous. I wonder if Anonymous is a Scientologist...has that kind of pull up your socks psychiatry is bullshit kind of tone. Those in the know know full well I am full up to my eyeballs of personality flaws. Perhaps I should say thank you more often for putting up with me. I'm certain it's not because you don't get anything out of being my friend. That's kind of the nice thing about getting older...realizing what you have to offer. I know who I am, but I don't always know who I WILL be...and therein lies the questioning. Constant questioning. Which leads to knowledge, which is why I know so much. Which I do. Which is why everyone I know is always calling me to ask things instead of looking in the phone book or on the internet. Because I am a font of random information. With the occasional foray into actual insight.

Surprised an anonymous commenter could get under my skin. Perhaps because I am always worrying about whining too much.

Make no mistake, I am well aware the past few weeks have been dark, and perhaps people only want to read funny here? Hm. Too bad. I'm dying to know if Anonymous is someone I know. Probably not, not well, anyhow. Perhaps a fellow comic? Could be. I challenge Anonymous to come work for one day at the flower shop and then tell me I don't exercise.

I am at once chastened, angered and petulant. Obviously Anon has struck a chord. Perhaps have been feeling sorry for myself of late. Possibly thinking it might be nice to let myself wallow for once. As usually am impatient for myself to slough off any first world problems and stay sparkling. Perhaps Anonymous doesn't know how much energy is spent giving good outward face in this world? The need for a safe spot to whine and let the bile one normally chokes back to exit? It's like a cleanse for the soul. That's what the blog is. A cleanse. So that I might go about my daily interactions free of the nagging whines. This is a place for my asshole chorus to have a voice. Well, hell, let's face it. It's a place I can say whatever I like and you all be damned!

Anyway, a bad back's a bad back. And love is love. Etc.


ps - Also, I'd like to add, that I just reread that last entry, and I don't think that one was that whiny. I'm dying to give Anonymous a good kick in the shins.

Chasing the Love Carrot.

You know what it is about Steve Martin? It's the way he's so incredibly goofy and completely intellectual at the same time. I was just watching "The Lonely Guy". Paul was watching with me and couldn't quite get over the weirdness of it, but I think that's where it's charm is. It's like an external rendering of the internal experience of how weird it is to be human. If you get my drift. Each experience of each of his characters has layers. There is the worldly truth of it, what an eyewitness would describe. But then there is how you feel inside the experience. When he is embarassed to be dining alone and to illustrate it so painfully the other diners stop talking and a spotlight is shone on him while he is shown to his table and the extraneous place settings are cleared away. I think he's my very favorite. I like his tendency towards the fantastic. Kind of magic realism. Think "LA Story" and "Picasso at the Lapin Agile".

Anyways, I was just thinking about that. I have been thinking and thinking and thinking lately and now my back has gone out. Obviously, related. Taking a weird break from doing shows. Had to cancel tonight due to back pain...standing and walking bad times. Haven't done a set since last Saturday. And haven't booked anything...well, anything, really. Think, think, think.

Less time doing comedy, more time to brood. That seems to be the equation. Harumph. Oh, well. Haven't had a really purposeful brood lately. Might as well sink my teeth into it. Perhaps if the sun came out.

When the love carrot is dangled in front of you, do you chase it? There must be a less futile way. Oh, you know, things linger. Just having some thinks about love. Who I have loved, why...who I haven't, why not. Sometimes it seems circular, but every once in a while I'll realize something I haven't before, or see something in a different way. Those are good moments. Every time a penny drops I think, "Now, see? That was worth sticking around for." Same when I think of a good joke. I have some good new jokes.

Hey, that's right. I have new jokes I want to try!! Dammit!! I was really looking forward to the show I had to cancel tonight. Too bad. The host was very kind, though, and not angry, which I guess it would be silly to be since I'm on my back and there's no real getting around that. Perhaps if I was 20 I would put myself through the agony, but not today, my friends, not today.

Where was I going with that? Oh, yes. That's right. I have some new things I want to try and therefore ought to book some shows. Huh. See right there, a little penny drop happened and I realized how much I want to do a show, not put it off for more weeks. Yay, doing shows!

That felt nice.




Conehead the Barbarian

Hi. I think I've had a lot to write about lately, but can't seem to get to it. First of all, let's welcome Kylan Morley MacArthur to the world, born to Georgia Morley and Tim MacArthur on Sunday, July 3rd at 4:15pm, weighing in at a wee 6.5 pounds and measuring a mere 23 inches in length. Very sweet little man. I am Auntie Riel, yet again. All are healthy and happy and learning things each and every minute of each and every day.

So. Why do I not feel unbound joy as I thought I would? I feel guilty that my whole life hasn't stopped to revolve around this baby, though, having said that, it's not MY baby...but...I feel like a neglectful auntie, that I shouldn't be worried about my petty problems. But fuck it. I am. I am so anxiety ridden. I suppose that could be contributing heavily to my exhaustion. I don't know. I'm not very happy right now, but that's ok, right? I'm just going to let this be.

My cell phone is back on, for those of you who were starting to think it might never be. I gotta figure out a new plan, though, because this is too much money. I haven't been talking during the day, so maybe I can figure a way to continue that. It's so bloody tempting when I'm driving around all the time to chit chat the day away. On that note, I gotta stop driving for a living. It's starting to be too stressful. I'm working in the flower shop more often, which I like, except for the part where you start at 8am. That's a bit early for me. I'll just putter along and see how it goes.

I wonder what would perk me up? A lover. That'd go a long way. When would I find the time? Paul moving out of my basement, that would REALLY go a long way. I hope he says thank you or cleans the bathroom when he leaves, because I can draw a direct line from the time he moved in to my anxiety levels skyrocketing. I need my space back. And a full night's sleep. This morning again, his alarm at 6am, and he slept through not only the alarm, but my yelling at him to turn it off, forcing me to get out of my bed hours before I planned and smack him about to wake him up. Then I was too anxious and annoyed to get any good sleep after that. I may go mad with undersleptness. I think he's going in the next two days...oh, that'll be nice. I feel very claustrophobic. I don't like sharing my bathroom. I wonder if my next place I need to live alone again. Huh. I'm going to look into that. Maybe a sweet little bachelor with a garden. Nah, I'll miss having a proper kitchen and a place to entertain. Maybe.

I seem to be a bit directionless this week. Strange, though actually a relief, to be taking the week off from comedy. Just a nice break. Haven't gone to any shows, haven't booked any. Trying to learn to cut myself a little slack. Am going to try to get an agent, have to make a resume. Hate this part. Want to earn a living acting and writing. No more jobby jobs. One of these days.

I'm going to weed something.



Oh, Canada. True, Strong, Free, Gay.

I went to see the Rodin show at the VAG yesterday. Wow. I have seen most of the sculptures before, as many of them have a permanent home at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. I was once there for a Gustave Caillebotte show, (my favourite of the impressionists, look him up), and they were renovating or something, and there was this room upstairs where all the Rodin sculptures were just kind of lying around. It seemed like we had stumbled into a room that was supposed to be storing things or something, nothing was really properly on exhibit, but there were all the Rodins...it was amazing. This show at the VAG also very wonderful. I have been very, very tired this week, or else would have stayed for many hours contemplating all the pieces. They are very moving and each one could make me very happy if it was in my home. It was quite difficult not to touch them. They begged to be stroked, and some even looked like you should curl up with them. So much motion in every figure, and evocative as hell. Worth your time. I think I'll go back.

So very tired and long day ahead tomorrow, so I'll sleep now. Will keep you up to date on my rollercoaster life.

By the way, there's a Fatburger in Vancouver now, on Denman, so you should have one, if you like burgers. They were my dad's favourite. I almost liked them the best when I lived in LA, but always went with In N' Out burgers, mostly because they were only two blocks from my house. But Fatburger, yum. Me and Ian got some and ate them at the beach at English Bay.

Happy Birthday Canada. May you become an adult soon.

Oh, yeah. This is funny. I talked to my mum tonight for a long time. She's designing a show right now, or, rather they are into the building stage, so she's finished designing which means she's not occupied by it when she's driving, so she thinks about other things. Today she found herself wondering what it would be like if Karla Homolka moved to her town. This is the kind of brain I was raised by, people. She said she wondered what she would do if she went into the coffee place in town and saw Homolka there - would she walk out? Can you joke around with a serial killer? I told her that no, you can't joke around with a serial killer, everyone else would be very angry with you. God, can you imagine? How creepy would that be if Homolka moved near you. Ich.

By the way, if I ever liked Tom Cruise even one iota, I am over it over it over it. What a psycho freak. I hope he gets ostracized by the other Scientologist celebrities for making them look bad.

Yes, I have thought about this.