Okay. I got it together to update not only my facebook, but also my myspace, so now you can click on that thing to the right there and see my upcoming shows. I'll put them here, too.
Friday, August 24th, 8pm showtime, Sawbuck's Pub, 1626 152nd Street, Surrey!!
8pm Monday, August 27th, Myles of Beans, 7010 Kingsway near the Edmonds Skytrain Station - I do 7-10 minutes.
9:30pm Thursday, August 30th, Howie's Bar and Grill, 2830 Bainbridge Avenue, Burnaby. Corner of Lougheed and Bainbridge, near the Burnaby Lake skytrain.
Will send you September as it becomes clear.
xo
r.
8.15.2007
8.09.2007
I don't know, either.
Oh, hi there. Nice to see you. Just a second. I gotta get comfortable.
Hang on.
Getting there. Just gotta adjust this one thing....
Oh, who am I kidding. I am procrastinating further. No, not procrastinating. Trying to be funny. Sheesh, I am way funnier than that normally. Anyway, I don't feel like procrastinating, I'll do it tomorrow. Ha ha ha!
Since you asked....things are good. I think they are good. I mean, no, they are, but I am so unused to this business of structure and sameness. Some days I have pangs for a past life. Possibly a future life. I am keeping a tight rein on my very inner truths, trying to sort them out. It's getting easier to pretend to be in a good mood now that I know what it feels like.
I keep having this conversation with myself about wanting to do more, thinking I should do more, and knowing that the best course of action at the present time is to stick to the plans I made in the winter. It seems so easy to just let the momentum of things carry me faster and faster and just get overbooked. I remember that's what I've always done.
This week I decided, after a dirty good summertime vacation long weekend in the Okanagan, that it would be kind of like a vacation just going to work and then coming home and staying home until it's time to go to work the next day. It's been a nice, quiet couple of nights. Trying to decide whether to go out tonight, but likely I will crawl into something warm and maybe watch something filmish. I MIGHT do the dishes, but I doubt it. But I might.
Oooh, I feel a bit rusty in the writing department. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to publish this. I am. Even though I am fairly certain it says nothing of import and little of interest. But then I'm going to write a little more later. And then maybe a little tomorrow and the next day. Because that will get me back up to speed. Right now I feel like I have left blogging so long that the information just piles up and it gets harder and harder to sit down and figure out what the important bits are to let you in on. (I understand that that sentence was a grammatical nightmare, but I'm not fixing it.) So, I remind myself, sit down and write a little every day, it will start to roll out of you again, it will.
I think I might be sad, but I can't really tell, so then I think maybe I'm not sad at all and I'm just confused because living without a deep well of sadness in me is so unfamiliar that I kind of miss it. So, is it that I am out of touch with my inner self? Or that I am inner touch with my outer self? Confused? Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.
xo
r.
Hang on.
Getting there. Just gotta adjust this one thing....
Oh, who am I kidding. I am procrastinating further. No, not procrastinating. Trying to be funny. Sheesh, I am way funnier than that normally. Anyway, I don't feel like procrastinating, I'll do it tomorrow. Ha ha ha!
Since you asked....things are good. I think they are good. I mean, no, they are, but I am so unused to this business of structure and sameness. Some days I have pangs for a past life. Possibly a future life. I am keeping a tight rein on my very inner truths, trying to sort them out. It's getting easier to pretend to be in a good mood now that I know what it feels like.
I keep having this conversation with myself about wanting to do more, thinking I should do more, and knowing that the best course of action at the present time is to stick to the plans I made in the winter. It seems so easy to just let the momentum of things carry me faster and faster and just get overbooked. I remember that's what I've always done.
This week I decided, after a dirty good summertime vacation long weekend in the Okanagan, that it would be kind of like a vacation just going to work and then coming home and staying home until it's time to go to work the next day. It's been a nice, quiet couple of nights. Trying to decide whether to go out tonight, but likely I will crawl into something warm and maybe watch something filmish. I MIGHT do the dishes, but I doubt it. But I might.
Oooh, I feel a bit rusty in the writing department. You know what I'm going to do? I'm going to publish this. I am. Even though I am fairly certain it says nothing of import and little of interest. But then I'm going to write a little more later. And then maybe a little tomorrow and the next day. Because that will get me back up to speed. Right now I feel like I have left blogging so long that the information just piles up and it gets harder and harder to sit down and figure out what the important bits are to let you in on. (I understand that that sentence was a grammatical nightmare, but I'm not fixing it.) So, I remind myself, sit down and write a little every day, it will start to roll out of you again, it will.
I think I might be sad, but I can't really tell, so then I think maybe I'm not sad at all and I'm just confused because living without a deep well of sadness in me is so unfamiliar that I kind of miss it. So, is it that I am out of touch with my inner self? Or that I am inner touch with my outer self? Confused? Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.
xo
r.
7.08.2007
Growing up.
I am snug in my new apartment. I have planted flower boxes and strung patio lanterns. I have a squirrel that eats my strawberries. He picks one, takes a bite of the tip, throws the rest away. Greedy squirrel!
The inside of the apartment is less organized than the patio, but you gotta start somewhere. Most of the kitchen stuff is unpacked, since there wasn't that much to begin with, but the clothes and sundries remain flung about, half in bins, hanging on the back of the chaise, shoved aside to make a clear path from the front door, through the kitchen, to the patio. Priorities. Doing a little bit each day, but am on hold for the completion of unpacking kitchen and bathroom due to plumbers trooping in here each weekday at 8am. They are repiping the whole building. I'll be quite pleased when it's all done and the shower works like a shower and nothing leaks and everything is shiny and all my things can go in their drawers and on their shelves and under their sinks.
I love it here. Love it, love it, love it. I have been waiting for this for a long, long time. I mean, I have been wanting it, but maybe not working towards it as vigorously as I have been since the winter. Further to that, the whole winter business, you should know that I am just coming along tickety boo. Adulthood and I are having a nice time getting to know each other. We think it'll last. I've not experienced this before, a consistent good mood, waking looking forward to going to work, very little anxiety, if any. I am, I think, a bit relentlessly cheerful. I'm fucking thrilled to be inside it, but it does consume me at the moment in a way not unlike depression did. I am filled with wonder at how it is to just feel good. I am swimming in it. I am pretty much only interested in doing things that keep that train on track. The good mood train. I think it must be what it's like to have laser eye surgery. I bet you don't get tired of waking up and being able to see. I'm not getting tired of waking up pleased, of being able to see a different way of doing things.
I am going out now to get some coffee and maybe a pastry, and possibly a newspaper. I might get a newspaper and read it while I drink my coffee. Heaven! I can do whatever I want in whatever order I want. Cause I live alone, and it's all paid for, and I have a job, and.....!! Sweet. I am giddy, giddy, giddy.
I even like my thighs. Things must be going well.
xo
r.
The inside of the apartment is less organized than the patio, but you gotta start somewhere. Most of the kitchen stuff is unpacked, since there wasn't that much to begin with, but the clothes and sundries remain flung about, half in bins, hanging on the back of the chaise, shoved aside to make a clear path from the front door, through the kitchen, to the patio. Priorities. Doing a little bit each day, but am on hold for the completion of unpacking kitchen and bathroom due to plumbers trooping in here each weekday at 8am. They are repiping the whole building. I'll be quite pleased when it's all done and the shower works like a shower and nothing leaks and everything is shiny and all my things can go in their drawers and on their shelves and under their sinks.
I love it here. Love it, love it, love it. I have been waiting for this for a long, long time. I mean, I have been wanting it, but maybe not working towards it as vigorously as I have been since the winter. Further to that, the whole winter business, you should know that I am just coming along tickety boo. Adulthood and I are having a nice time getting to know each other. We think it'll last. I've not experienced this before, a consistent good mood, waking looking forward to going to work, very little anxiety, if any. I am, I think, a bit relentlessly cheerful. I'm fucking thrilled to be inside it, but it does consume me at the moment in a way not unlike depression did. I am filled with wonder at how it is to just feel good. I am swimming in it. I am pretty much only interested in doing things that keep that train on track. The good mood train. I think it must be what it's like to have laser eye surgery. I bet you don't get tired of waking up and being able to see. I'm not getting tired of waking up pleased, of being able to see a different way of doing things.
I am going out now to get some coffee and maybe a pastry, and possibly a newspaper. I might get a newspaper and read it while I drink my coffee. Heaven! I can do whatever I want in whatever order I want. Cause I live alone, and it's all paid for, and I have a job, and.....!! Sweet. I am giddy, giddy, giddy.
I even like my thighs. Things must be going well.
xo
r.
6.15.2007
Give me my face time!
I'm sorry. Facebook has been taking me away from you. I'm trying to cut down, honestly.
6.01.2007
Sexy, sexy French.
It is hot enough to have all the windows in the house open and early enough in the season so as to still smell sweet out there. Lovely smells, from my neighbours' cooking notwithstanding, shinny in my window. Sweet sounds, the neighbours' children notwithstanding, do vibratto duty just at ear level. Hover there. Some sort of power tool. A child practicing the recorder. Another child shrieks, one wails, two argue. Mother's whispered conversations, "I don't think you should keep your story to yourself, Mel, I think you have to share your story with everyone." "Well, yes, I suppose I should." Strangest snippets make themselves clear above all other noise.
Anyway, it is hot, and I am in a fishbowl. New apartment, July 1st.
Hey, cleared the way to recover from some old mistakes today. Got something off my shoulders that was really bugging me. Am taking care of it and it feels very, very good.
Have noticeably stopped advising people of my every mood change or even the hint of a change, but now I think I am hardly talking to anyone. I talk to so many people at work every day, I am talked out when I leave that place. Talk talk talk talk talk talk talk.
There is suddenly the sound of an accordian coming from somewhere. Why is it that whenever I hear an accordian or fiddles I automatically think, "Those are my kind of people"? The circus.
The music is very sweet, wherever it's coming from, and it's making me a bit nostalgiac, and in need of a good country weekend. Er...a good weekend in the country. I have to practice being French, riding around in cotton frocks, a baguette and some fresh flowers in the basket of my bicycle. "Ring, ring!" goes the bell on my squeaky, red bike. I laugh and my laugh is made of coffee, croissants and cigarettes, and is unselfconcious.
I love the French.
Anyway, it is hot, and I am in a fishbowl. New apartment, July 1st.
Hey, cleared the way to recover from some old mistakes today. Got something off my shoulders that was really bugging me. Am taking care of it and it feels very, very good.
Have noticeably stopped advising people of my every mood change or even the hint of a change, but now I think I am hardly talking to anyone. I talk to so many people at work every day, I am talked out when I leave that place. Talk talk talk talk talk talk talk.
There is suddenly the sound of an accordian coming from somewhere. Why is it that whenever I hear an accordian or fiddles I automatically think, "Those are my kind of people"? The circus.
The music is very sweet, wherever it's coming from, and it's making me a bit nostalgiac, and in need of a good country weekend. Er...a good weekend in the country. I have to practice being French, riding around in cotton frocks, a baguette and some fresh flowers in the basket of my bicycle. "Ring, ring!" goes the bell on my squeaky, red bike. I laugh and my laugh is made of coffee, croissants and cigarettes, and is unselfconcious.
I love the French.
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