For some reason I drank two cups of coffee at the diner after 8 tonight, so here I am.

I've also been thinking, as many are wont to do at this time of year. This time last year I was fast asleep in Europe about to celebrate New Year's Eve in the streets of Berlin, Germany, drunk as hell. Now I'm sitting in the living room of Andrea's apartment on Gloucester Street. I had no idea I would be here. I like that feeling.

I lived in three different apartments this year, pretty well dividing my year up into thirds. At the beginning of the year, I wondered about finding a place of my own, and about finding a job to keep myself afloat. My goal was to finish my final semester at U of T and do well. I spent the majority of those first four months debating whether or not I wanted to take my university education any further than the Masters level. I still haven't decided, but I know it won't happen immediately.

In April I flew to Vancouver and spent two and a half hours talking with Douglas Coupland, a man whose work I had admired for over a decade. The entire trip feels like a dream, as though I momentarily stepped completely out of reality. Our talk took place on the day of his father's retirement party. He had a head cold but was kind enough to entertain my questions. He picked clover from his garden and gave it to me. It was a tiny window of time that I'll always remember.

Then, Ottawa in May. I wondered endlessly about how the city had changed, and how things were going to be different. I moved into a room that had an enormous view of the downtown area, and I spent the next four months feeling removed, unsure of where I was going to plant my feet. Fate landed me a job at the Senate, late nights that saw me going to bed at 7 AM the next morning. I pulled my back out lifting a suitcase and it hasn't felt 100% since. In July, I volunteered at the Humber School for Writers as a classroom assistant, and reignited my passion for writing as a result.

When it came time to finally nail down a place I could call a more permanent home, I looked at a handful of places and chose the Flatcave, two blocks from Andrea's place. I've tried to turn it into a place that keeps me creative and also affords me a couch on which to lie for DVD marathons. I bought a couch. I bought a bed. I bought a TV. I tried to keep a plant alive in a room that doesn't get much sun.

I started recording music. I started writing songs again for the first time in about ten years. I read books and made a ton of coffee in my kitchen and switched to using a Mac for a desktop computer.

I lost my last remaining grandparent, and tried to support Andrea when she lost her grandpa. I went to a funeral and saw three couples get married. I played horseshoes and swam in Lake Huron against the waves. I saw the sun go down over the Pacific from Stanley Park, and I got high in a hostel in Amsterdam.

An eventful year, in retrospect. I think I can beat it. We'll see.

I was looking for an old VHS tape that my family used to have: a recording of Jim Henson's The Christmas Toy, which originally aired in 1986 (I just found out that it saw a DVD release last month. It was originally sponsored exclusively by Kraft, and in a move the likes of which I haven't seen on television since each commercial featured a Kraft holiday recipe).

I couldn't find it, but I did find an old VHS recording of a really early Acid Lamb practice from 1994, back when we were called "Abandoned," I think. Just Darryl, Jeff and I. No vocals. I look totally skinny and young. My hair was curly so I wore a baseball cap all the time to keep it straight. I also found a REALLY early tape from 1992 when myself, Steve Robinson and Mike Denholm are lip-syncing along with Smells Like Teen Spirit, with instruments and everything. It's not the full version, just a botched take. I don't know where the full-fledged tape is.

I'm wearing the same Nirvana shirt in both videos. Sometimes I think about going through this stuff after my parents are dead and wondering how I'd preserve it.

Home is home. My dad still talks up Harper. My mom still talks to cats. The house looks great as always. I'll take some pics and post some when I have a chance.

The days are winding down in Ottawa. On Monday I'll be heading home to visit the family for a few days. Before you know it it will be 2009.

I still have a few things to attend to while I'm here. I need to buy Christmas gifts for my mother, brother, brother-in-law and sister. I had my eye on a necklace for my mother but it had been sold. The lesson is to jump at perfect opportunities, I suppose. I was feeling down about it and just generally thinking too much yesterday. Then Andrea called me, and I felt a lot better. She opened the gift I got for her, and I opened hers, a copy of the James Stewart western Shenandoah, which I watched last night, and a $10 gift card at the Elgin Street Diner.

Tonight a few people from the office are getting together to have dinner at the Parliamentary restaurant in Centre Block. I suppose this will be my first time ever entering the building. Tomorrow afternoon I'm training at Haven Books. Ian works there and offered me some hours since Parliament won't be back until January 26th. I'm low on funds, so it should help. I'm actually looking forward to working at a bookstore that's more independently run than Chapters.

On Saturday I'm heading out to the west end to party with some old Chapters co-workers, whom I haven't seen in well over a year. It was looking a bit complicated with the bus strike, but I've secured a ride both ways. Natalee is also in town, so I think we're going to hit Mod Club on Sunday. Lots to do, but it should be fun.

Class of 2008

1. Coldplay - Viva La Vida
2. The Stills - Oceans Will Rise
3. Death Cab For Cutie - Narrow Stairs
4. MGMT - Oracular Spectacular
5. Holy Fuck - LP
6. Filter - Anthems for the Damned
7. Ken Andrews - Secrets of the Lost Satellite
8. Ben Folds - Way to Normal
9. Beck - Modern Guilt
10. The Raveonettes - Lust Lust Lust

Hate to be a bother, but could someone maybe put a team together to come over and dig me out?

I've spent the last few nights reading letters written by John Keats along with a great essay on the poet by Edward Hirsch. Keats' "Ode on a Grecian Urn" is a poem that has greatly influenced not only my development as an artist, but my life in general.

Keats died of tuberculosis at the age of 25. Most of his great work was written in the span of one year, between 1817 and 1818. He wrote poetry for a total of seven years. Towards the end of his life, his letters get progressively more desperate. It is heartbreaking to see a man so full of the wonder of life trying to hold on to it through suffering. The letters and essay highlight several things fundamental to the way Keats saw the world. Here are some of them:

- Life is a process of soul-making. At birth, the soul has no identity. The soul is only built through life experience.
- Nature and humanity are intrinsically linked. Much about humanity may be observed by observing nature, and this is more often than not ignored by humanity.
- True artists possess "negative capability," that is, the ability to live in doubt, with the knowledge that some questions go without answers.
- He wanted to do "some good in the world." He recognized that others do good through their vocations, and he confirmed his as study and thought.
- He longed for a life of "sensation" rather than a life of thought.
- He held the idea of "disinterestedness" in esteem, or looking at the world not from a philosopher's point of view but from a poet's. The philosopher reasons out morality while the poet observes and records its impact.

Totally, right?

I wrote 1000 words last night for the novel. Downtime forces my creativity out. It's what keeps me from going bananas.

Well, Harper prorogued Parliament, which is really the least dramatic of the decisions that could have been made at this point. It was, selfishly, the last option I had hoped would go through, since it means I'm suddenly out of a job until January 26th. And maybe even after THAT, if the coalition rejects the budget (which they probably will) and Jean calls an election. All Harper is doing right now is postponing the inevitable. I can't say that I blame him, really. A coalition in power would really put a damper on his holidays.

I'm still trying to figure out how my money is going to hold out. I get paid on Wednesday, so that will be my first clear indication.

In other, far more important news, Ash doesn't have cancer. She won't even need the procedure that would have taken a closer look. Huzzah!

Start your thousand words now.

As far as I can understand it, the government may dissolve yet again on Monday over the Conservatives' proposed financial stimulus plan. Everyone has been saying that it's because it called for the elimination of public financing for political parties, which would have crippled the smaller parties.

The big news is that the Liberals and NDP have been in talks to form a coalition to take over the Conservatives. They need the help of the Bloc in order to have enough seats, and the Bloc has said they will help out if the coalition has Quebec's interests in mind. If a coalition forms, the three parties take over the government. If it doesn't, and enough votes are cast in a non-confidence motion against the Conservatives, the government dissolves and the parties go to another election.

Or the bill could pass, which means that nothing would change.

Since the stimulus package was announced on Thursday and rumours of a coalition started, the Conservatives have backed down on the public financing condition. But I'm not so sure that's going to be enough. I think there is a deep down resentment for Harper's politics that might keep a coalition momentum going. However, the Liberals only have a standing leader right now in Dion, who announced he was going to resign after his performance in the October 14th election. They could pull the trigger on Ignatieff, but he hasn't yet really had the opportunity to prove himself against the current Conservative minority.

Another election would be costly in a bad economic environment. It would be a red flag against the Liberals that Harper would no doubt wave in their faces. Canadians are tired of going to the polls as often as they have been lately, no matter how they vote, and I doubt the Liberals would perform well. I think, and hope, that if a coalition can't form, the bill will be allowed to pass, not the least because I'm worried about my own job but because it wouldn't be a good move on the part of leftists.

It's a pretty volatile situation. It also means that I'll find out on Monday how much longer I'll have a job.

My upstairs neighbours left me a note telling me that they just bought a puppy. They're apologizing in advance for the noise. I don't really mind, in fact it was nice of them to leave a note, but I hear other noises coming from their apartment that kind of make me wonder about them. The guy often shouts profanities, and I don't know if they're directed at anyone in particular, but they're delivered with the voice of some high school jock who never grew out of throwing temper tantrums.

Still no paycheque from work, but that's the government for you.

It's snowing outside. Everything looks beautiful.

I've sort of entered this phase of life where I think I'm being "smart" about my emotions. Rather than pull a trigger on an impulse I take two steps back and remind myself that it would be silly to make the same mistakes I used to make in my early twenties. I carry myself as though I've been through and seen too much. I step back and watch people who are younger than I am walk through hell to grow up, all the while trying not to tell them that all the pain and confusion and indecision will pass. They have to figure it out on their own. They wouldn't listen to me, and they would have no reason to.

Every time I meet a 24 year old I cringe and ask them if they're freaking out about their lives. I give them the advice that things will change once they hit 27 or so, whether they ask for it or not.

Maybe it's bullshit for me to be thinking that way at all. Since I was a teenager I've been the type of person who loves to give advice based on experience. Imagine a 16 year old giving the "when I was your age" speech. That has been me in a nutshell. You would think a guy like that would be priming himself for fatherhood, but I'd make a lousy dad. I'm still too selfish, too uncertain to be a dad. I take too much pleasure in not taking the world too seriously to cultivate a mind. I'd fuck the kid up.

Being smart about emotion: don't get too worked up, too angry, too sad about anything. Bear all bad news with a slow breath in and out and start the next sentence with, "Okay." I've always been that person too, the one who thinks he can work out any problem by approaching it with a level head, the one who can break down every situation to its bare elements somehow and rebuild it nice and new and happy from the ground up. My early twenties were hell because I felt closer to reason than I ever had but still couldn't grab onto it. I could choose my words carefully, but my relationships would still fail because I didn't understand that I could say too much and drive people away.

The other night I was telling Andrea that I really wasn't still friends with any of the people I called friends when I was 21. During the course of my entire life my friendships have shifted like glaciers, slowly and almost unnoticeable, gradually moving along, in and out of view, sometimes shifting and changing into something else like love or hate or a closeness with another person I hadn't seen coming. It has prevented lifelong friendships from blossoming and I don't know if it will ever stop. I think of my dad, closing in on 70, with no real friends to call his own. He has my mother, his kids and God, and that's it. No more glaciers on the horizon.

I have learned to appreciate what is positive in my life, but at times I feel as though I take the positives for granted and treat others unfairly. I am constantly battling my worry about living a life that is too small in scope with my satisfaction in how many good things I have going for me. I don't want to hide from my own life in relationships or work. Rather, I want these things to be expressive of who I am and how I feel. At times I feel as though I care too much about how others perceive me and how well I'm adjusting to getting older. Most of the time I laugh it off, or fantasize about laughing it off when no one asks me how I'm doing.

Getting older freaks me out. It probably always will, no matter how self-satisfied I become over thinking my way through emotions I once thought were out of control. I always come back to Coupland's words in Life After God:

Time, Baby - so much, so much time left until the end of my life - sometimes I go crazy at how slowly time passes yet how quickly my body ages. But I shouldn't allow myself to think like this. I have to remind myself that time only frightens me when I think of having to spend it alone. Sometimes I scare myself with how many of my thoughts revolve around making me feel better about sleeping alone in a room.

Getting older means a continual process of reminding yourself, of giving yourself advice, in order to thwart a negativity that would otherwise destroy any potential you have to be loved.

As an unapologetic fan of professional wrestling, I am very much looking forward to The Wrestler, a movie that has steadily been building buzz and should make a mark at the Academy Awards next year. The trailer has been released, and it looks incredible:



The movie is directed by Darren Aronofsky, who also directed Pi, Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain. I dig Mickey Rourke as an actor and I'm really looking forward to seeing him in action.

I'm just going to put this out there.

Jesse Eisenberg and Michael Cera will one day play brothers in a movie.

Today was a busy day at work. Nine and a half hours.

I bought the first season of The Office (six episodes) and devoured the thing. I can't say enough good things about that show. Its quality aside, it takes me back to time I spent with Andrea days before she left for Europe last year. The two of us sat on my cousin's couch for hours marathoning the episodes.

It strikes me as odd that I've started working in an office and spending my downtime watching office-centric television. I wonder if I'm trying to make myself sick of it early on.

RANDOM TRIVIA: A man who contributed to the invention of the polygraph also created Wonder Woman. William Moulton Marston pioneered the systolic blood pressure test which would become a main component of lie detection. Marston, a feminist theorist and psychologist, wrote essays on emotion and believed that women were not only more honest and reliable than men, but also faster and more accurate workers. In 1940 he was hired as an educational consultant by a publishing company that would ultimately merge into DC comics, where he was given the go ahead to develop Wonder Woman, a female superhero of his own invention. Wonder Woman's weapon, a magic lasso, when roped around an adversary, forces that adversary to tell the truth. Marston lived in a polyamorous relationship with his wife and lover, fathering children by each.

Tomorrow's the big day, ie. the day the House begins its next Parliament session. They'll be choosing a Speaker to kick things off, and from the murmurs I hear its going to come to ballots. I was reading an old Hansard from the 37th Parliament, comparing it with the last, and it just went to show that the process can either take an hour or several.

I'm not feeling nervous about it. By this point I think that most of my questions are going to be answered in the process. They'll be keeping an eye on me at first. Murray said he'd look into getting me some extra hours in January to practice, and I want to take full advantage.

A few of us went to the diner last night and hung out. It was a good weekend for seeing people; I'd like to get into the habit of seeing them every weekend, just to hang out over a pint or milkshake. Tonight Andrea and I are going to catch a showing of Jules et Jim at the Bytowne.

Someone upstairs is singing Happy Birthday.

I may need to revert to the two-alarm system of getting out of bed in the morning. My body isn't used to 9 AM.

I put my first payment down on my student loan - that is, the first payment I've ever made on purpose, without the NSLSC taking it out of my account. At the monthly payment rate I'm set at (almost $400 a month) my loan will be paid off in just over nine years. I can make payments whenever I want, of course.

Original Repayment Amount: $32,449.36
Amount Owing at the NSLSC: $32,133.84

Only nine years to go. I'll make it a thing to do before I'm 40.

It strikes me that most of the things I've always wanted/planned to do were things that I saw myself doing in my twenties. When I was a teenager, I always had an idea of what my twenties would be like. But I have no idea what life will be like in my thirties. No clue. It's grand.

The man I'm "replacing," Murray, is retiring in January and he's been showing me the ropes, letting me know how things work in the Chamber and how parliament business proceeds. A really nice guy. We sat down and watched a debate tape and he walked me through the published transcription step by step. Occasionally he'd clear his throat and explain that he wasn't used to talking so much.

At the top of the morning I sat down with a guy named Michel in the Verifications Centre, a guy who's also retiring, and he told me about some of the things he's had to verifying, including the spelling of "Jiminy Crickett." He actually PHONED DISNEY and asked them how to spell it, and now it's in the House of Commons verifications database.

The Chamber gets crazy. Politicians hoot and holler at each other like they're kids in a sandbox fighting over plastic shovels and toy cars, cracking painfully bad puns and reciting song lyrics and quotations with abandon. I'm just in awe of the entire thing and can't believe it works the way it does.

Less about the job, eventually. I've never really liked blogging about work.

I have my own cubicle. My own! I don't have to share it with anyone. Its bare, faux-carpeted walls are crying out to be covered in pictures of loved ones, funny cat calendars and posters of sunsets. I have a computer and a couple of filing cabinets. At one point, someone emailed me about calling a number to schedule an appointment, and I left a message for a callback.

I felt like such a regular person. Of course, I'm not really that regular, so I'll inevitably find ways to bring irregularity to the workplace. Gradually, inch by inch. They won't even notice.

I'm in for an average of about five seven-hour work days a week. The earliest I'll start is 10 AM. Today I read through a multitude of information about formatting House of Commons debates, but I won't be able to really grasp it until I'm applying it on a daily basis. Dry work, maybe, but it's going to teach me a shitload about Canadian politics. It's a job that will make me smarter, and really lend me a greater handle on how the country operates.

Vacation-wise, it's ideal. I get six weeks off at Christmas beginning December 13th, a week off in May and then June 24th - September 18th off. It's ideal because I won't have to lose myself in the job all year. I can take plenty of time to explore other interests.

So far, so good. I train for a couple more days this week. The 40th Parliament begins session on Tuesday. Here's to hoping everything continues to work out.

I start the new job tomorrow at 10 AM. I'll be sleeping in my bed for the first time in a couple of months because I want to be ready and raring to go tomorrow morning.

I finished up the Terry Lee Hale cover. You can hear it over on the Wire and Light myspace page: myspace.com/wireandlight.

I picked up a Bond box set at HMV to start hacking my way through the films.

My updates in this blog might slow down a bit, since I'll be writing about a lot of things on the new one, but this should still afford me a space for things that the other one doesn't.

I quit my job at Senate publications today. Dave emailed me and asked me if I wanted to, and my return email was something akin to "Now that you mention it..." Working up to 35 hours a week will be enough without knocking myself out with overnight Senate shifts.

I've been working on music this afternoon, a cover of "Dead is Dead" by Terry Lee Hale. Hopefully I'll have it finished tomorrow, and then I'll finish up the original I've been working on for the last month and put both online.

Janet Leigh's Bad Luck with Motels was a success, though most didn't show until well into the second film. The party moved to the Royal Oak for a couple of hours. Many, many drinks were had, resulting in a $350 tab. A few of us went to the Live Lounge afterwards and danced to music that appealed to my inner teenager. More drinks, more fun. The night ended on a bit of a sour note, with a fight breaking out on York Street. My phone died and I lost Andrea in the confusion. The Market just isn't what it used to be.

I'd never been to the Live Lounge before. They do a live-to-air broadcast every Saturday night, hosted by DJ Noah. Andrea and Steve got me a couple of birthday shout-outs, and a dedication of "Lazy Eye" by Silversun Pickups. The club closes at 2 sharp, and the bouncer tried clearing us from the floor, but Noah put on "Young Folks" by Peter, Bjorn and John. We weren't going anywhere. Noah said it was definitely the last song of the night, and he was completely stoked that we refused to leave before he was done. A really cool moment.

All in all, I had a fantastic time and was really pleased with the turnout. I'm taking it easy today, chilling at Andrea's.

Yesterday was a fantastic day overall. Couldn't have asked for a better birthday. After finding out about the job and launching the new blog, everything else was gravy. Andrea gave me a copy of Iron Man along with a t-shirt she had custom made with a green and black duotone image of a keyboard around half the waist. She also presented me with a few items of the naughty variety that for propriety's sake I won't repeat here, but needless to say I'm looking forward to keeping warm with her this winter.

The two of us went to Elgin Street Diner for dinner, where I ate the steak and mushroom pie dinner special with a chocolate shake, and then headed to South Keys to watch Role Models, a very funny movie starring Paul Rudd and Seann William Scott. Any flick that ends with a group of KISS impersonators kicking the shit out of medieval role players with foam swords shouldn't send anyone away dissatisfied.

Afterwards a few of us gathered at Erin's and hung out for a few hours, drinking and talking. Today I've been cleaning up the apartment a bit, getting ready for tonight, though I imagine most folks won't be showing up for the Touch of Evil/Psycho double bill. Should be a fun night either way.

Not ANOTHER new blog:

Things To Do Before I'm 30.

It's pretty much exactly what it sounds like. My first post is a video blog, which I've never done before, but which I've now done before I turned 30.

Christine called me today and offered me the job at the House of Commons. She said I tested the highest out of every applicant, and offered me a spot with the Hansard Association, the group that edits and researches chamber debates and speeches. I'll be working 33-35 hours a week, so it looks like I'll be leaving the Senate job behind shortly.

Don't forget to check out the blog. If you have any suggestions about things for me to do before I turn 30, I'm more than open to them.

I'm a big fan of Reese Puffs cereal. I eat it for breakfast almost everyday. Today I was buying Reese Puffs at the grocery store and I noticed a quiz written on the back of the box.

Reese Puffs 18 Things To Do Before You're 18

01. Ride the world's biggest rollercoaster.
02. Bungee jump!
03. Score the winning goal/basket.
04. Win an award, trophy or prize.
05. Learn an instrument.
06. Go backstage at a gig.
07. Meet your idol.
08. Play a part in your favorite TV show.
09. Meet someone with your own name.
10. Make a discovery.
11. Get away with the perfect practical joke.
12. Own a pointless collection.
13. Invent a word that makes it into the dictionary. (Ambitious.)
14. Conquer your biggest fear.
15. Raise money for charity.
16. Pass your driving test the first time.
17. Complete a road trip coast to coast.
18. Reach 18 years of age.

That's not a bad list. I'm turning 29 years old tomorrow. For a little while I've been building a list of things I'd like to do before I'm 30. Here's what I've got so far:

Things To Do Before I'm 30

01. Record an album of at least 10 songs.
02. Play a show in support of the album.
03. Write the first draft of a novel.
04. Make a music video.
05. Share a kiss while overlooking Paris.
06. Drink a beer in an authentic Irish pub.
07. Appear in a film.

I have a head start on a couple of those. I'd really like to go into my 30's thinking that I've done all I could to have some amazing experiences. I think I'll ask my younger friends what they'd like to accomplish before they turn 30, and try to come up with some more.

I really believe that American politics routinely comes down to one set of principles versus another. The differences between McCain and Obama were pretty much the same differences between Kerry and Bush, Gore and Bush, Clinton and Dole, Clinton and Bush Sr., and on and on. For the past three elections, people in America have been split almost right down the middle in terms of the popular vote. One American goes one way, another goes the other way.

Why does this happen? How can two parties, representing two separate sets of principles, have a tug of war with one another and win back and forth so routinely? Why would a Republican suddenly vote for a Democrat, or vice versa, or declare themselves undecided?

It comes down to who has the better words to act as a salve for America's suffering. The country is perpetually broken, can perpetually be improved, but this reality is rarely stated in plain facts, instead covered up by fancy buzzword rhetoric. Obama mentioned it in his victory speech last night in a way no politician has in a long time. America has not yet reached a state of political, social and certainly not economical perfection. It never has. Yet more often than not, I think, campaigns are run on the idea that America is perfect by virtue of its democratic process and freedom of cultural and religious expression - its faults are always the other party's. Obama's and McCain's campaigns generally followed suit, Obama armed with eight years of Bush policy failures and McCain chomping at the Democrats' willingness to spend themselves into slavery to the Chinese.

But Obama said something very significant last night - in effect, "I won't be able to fix this country alone."

I think you have in Obama a politician who doesn't idealize America in the same way McCain does, and that's important. Obama spoke to a truth about the country's imperfections that voters connected with. Beyond this, he represented it symbolically, a black man with the presidential office in his sights, a success in spite of socio-political imperfections. That's what he will base his first term as president on. Successes in spite of imperfections.

Will it make America better? Maybe. Obama has a background as a community organizer. He's trained to pull people together to accomplish goals in order to better their society. That's an important training for a president to have in a country so clearly divided down party lines.

A part of me wants to say that I'm glad Democrats gained the White House and strengthened their Senate presence because I despise certain Republican principles, base or otherwise - bans on abortion and gay marriage, a belief in the right to bear arms, opposition to stem cell research - and I believe these principles have no place in government because they promote discrimination while robbing what I believe should be the fundamental rights of people in a free nation.

But that's not why I'm happy that Obama won last night. I'm happy because America needed a leader who wouldn't disappear from the public eye in a silent declaration that he had failed the country in most of the decisions he made while in office. I'm happy that Americans elected Obama not out of fear, but out of a willingness to believe in his message of change. Hollow platitudes? Again, maybe. He hasn't taken office yet. No one is sure what he'll be capable of. But I'd never seen anything like the look in the eyes of those watching his speech last night - a crowd of thousands of voters across lines of ethnicity, religion, and sexual orientation. A unified belief, not in Obama, but that the country must get better, and that his election indicated that it's possible.

It's not really up to Obama how the next four years go. It's up to the people over whom he presides. Last night was a good start.

I've almost got the Reason work on a new song done, but I'm having a hell of a time with the arpeggiator on a couple of the keyboard effects. Should be able to get something workable done by next week. I abandoned a short story I was working on for something else. Hopefully it will go somewhere.

Winterson is a hell of a writer.

Still no word about the job.

I imagine I'll be watching the election coverage for most of the night. I'm pulling for an Obama win, but if I've learned anything from American politics over the last two terms, you can't call the race until it's over.

All I want is right now to find out once and for all about this job. The waiting is the hardest part.

I finished Headhunter. I enjoyed it, but it's a complicated book with a multitude of characters of often unspecified intertextual origin that deserves another read. Today I started The Passion by Jeanette Winterson, which Andrea was kind enough to lend me.

I went with Andrea and Christine to see Zack and Miri Make a Porno yesterday. I'm a huge Kevin Smith fan, and I thought the film was funny, but I was left with the sense that I want him to start getting into other territory. Kevin's an intelligent guy and a great writer, but he's notorious for calling himself a shitty director. He doesn't have a lot of faith in himself, and I think it prevents him from breaking out of the comedic mold he's been in for a few years now. It's still good stuff, but he really needs to move on to the great stuff that a movie like Dogma suggested he's capable of producing. I know he's got a horror flick in the pipeline and I'd be very interested to see how he can expand his repertoire a bit.

Clocks went back and I'm having a hard time adjusting. I think Andrea had a pretty good birthday overall. Her birthday/Halloween party was fun while it lasted. A lot of people turned out. The next morning we went to the diner and later on we watched Peep Show and had dinner at the Royal Oak during what I'm going to term "homeless karaoke" - the karaoke of the indigent looking for a warm room.

I'm set on finally finishing Headhunter this week. I also got a bit of writing done. Hopefully I'll be hearing about the job tomorrow.

It's All Hallows Eve, the scariest of scray holidays, right behind Labour Day (ooooo, Labour Day). I watched Halloween at Andrea's place while she carved a wicked pumpkin and tortured her cat, all while wearing her sexy Halloween costume.

Kat's party was fun. I kept my mask on for the first half and freaked out a couple of people who didn't know who I was. I had the weird feeling of sitting in a friend's apartment a year and a half after hanging out with her on a regular basis. Kat's made a lot of new friends. And good for her, of course. But it was strange sitting there, looking around, not knowing so many faces.

Tonight: another party celebrating the holiday and Andrea's 21st birthday. That's right, by tomorrow morning she'll be legal everywhere.

It was gorgeous outside today. I went for a walk to the Beer store and the weather was incredibly fair. Halloween deserves a great autumn day. The sun hitting dead leaves.

Orson Welles will always be the man. Just finished listening to Mercury Theatre's War of the Worlds broadcast, and Welles' performance of Professor Pierce is dynamite. That man could read a pile of road signs and make it sound as though the human condition were being placed under a microscope.

It's been a lazy day. I find myself continually coming up with excuses for putting off things I would like/need to get done. I did get in an hour of reading. I think by this time next week I'll have a much better idea of how I should go about scheduling my days.

I picked up a pumpkin at Hartman's today, one of the few they had left. I'll probably leave for Kat's place in about an hour.

My record with job interviews has been pretty damn good since I entered the world of employment. There have been occasions in which I've gone into an interview and not secured the job, but I'm usually quick with the responses and good with the attitude and never say the wrong thing. Today was no exception. Great test scores, great interview, great feeling, great results.

"I'd be crazy not to hire you."

They're going to let me know officially early next week, once interviews are through, but I'm very confident it's a lock. I'd be working at least 30 hours a week at a fantastic pay rate. I'll be making more money than I ever have at any job. Which means I'll start paying back my loan while worrying less about money. I'll be in a great spot.

Not a bad day at all. I received three new hardcover Oz books in the mail (Rinkitink, Scarecrow and Tin Woodman), so I only need three to complete my Baum collection. I watched the director's cut of Amadeus, a movie I'd never seen all they way through, and hadn't seen pieces of probably since junior high. Tomorrow is Kat's birthday/punkin carving party, and I'm wearing a mask that Andrea brought back from London. It's pretty freaky looking.

Things to do over the next couple of days: listen to Orson Welles' performance of The War of the Worlds broadcast (70th anniversary!), and watch Halloween. And party.

Supposedly Ottawa will be covered in ankle-deep snow when all is said and done tonight. It's certainly wet and crappy outside now. My apartment, however, is nice and cozy.

I went out and used the gift certificate my brother got me for my birthday at HMV today, picking up Amadeus and Blazing Saddles on DVD. While I was browsing I saw a sign advertising the release of Chinese Democracy in late November. I joked with the cashier that I didn't think I'd live to see the day of that album's release. I won't believe it until I actually see the thing in stores. The reviews should be something to behold.

I got back into my reading schedule today. Tomorrow morning is the job interview and I've been going over information about the House of Commons to familiarize myself with what I may be responsible for.

RANDOM TRIVIA: The total population of the Northwest Territories, the Yukon and Nunavut is less than the total population of Guelph.

I got out of bed at 7:40 AM in time to attend my French oral test, which I, of course, failed with flying colours. As I sat in the waiting room the receptionist handed me a basic information questionnaire to fill out in French, and I couldn't complete the thing. The lady who administered the test was friendly and encouraging, and let me attempt to speak for six minutes in conversation before stopping the test. My final French test results: AAX. Requirements for the job that forced me into taking French tests: AAB. By the time I got home I had received both the results and a "better luck next time" note from the Senate in my email inbox.

As I started to ponder what, exactly, I would have to do to keep from starving to death come February, I received a phone call from the woman who tested me at the House of Commons for the transediting job two weeks ago. She invited me back for an interview on Wednesday, so apparently I performed well enough in the first round.

Real rollercoaster of a morning. I'd like to get this job. I'm in the nice, comfortable spot just before the inevitable interview where I know they must think I have promise, and I'm going to coast on the feeling before Wednesday, making sure I go in armed with a CV, recommendations and a smile. Wish me luck.

I ended up organizing Janet Leigh's Bad Luck with Motels for the day after my birthday. Andrea arrives back in Ottawa tonight and I'm leaving in ten minutes to meet her at the train station.

I’ve been planning a themed movie night in my head for the past couple of weeks or so, a screening of Touch of Evil and Psycho. Touch of Evil, of course, is the Orson Welles film I spent months analyzing in Toronto last year, and it gets better with every viewing. It’s also a film that had a pretty direct influence on Psycho, which was released two years later to much higher acclaim. I bought special editions of both and I’m aching to watch them back-to-back with some folks who appreciate good films. I would call the night “Janet Leigh’s Bad Luck with Motels,” or something to that effect.

Ideally, I’d really like to have a movie night weekly, where I’d screen a movie in my living room and my friends could show up if they wanted to and we could go out and grab a beer afterward, just to have a night where I know I’d get to see people and hang out for a bit. I should do some field research and find out what night would typically be best.

Since I’m turning 29 soon, I’ve been tossing around ideas in my head of things I’d like to accomplish before I’m 30. Right now it’s small. I still get a kick out of trying new things, and I’m sure that desire will continue. I like the idea of having a year to cross things off a list. Like a bucket list, but without the death part.

Lua and I have been chilling out the past few nights in Andrea’s absence. She’s a glutton for attention.

I've been haunted by the opening of Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West since I first watched it about a month ago. I had a dream about it yesterday while napping. I found it online and I thought I'd present it here as part of some random trivia. It runs a bit long, but it's genius. You can definitely see how Leone influenced modern directors like Tarantino in the dramatic intensity department.

RANDOM TRIVIA: After making his stunning American civil war epic "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly," Leone had intended to retire from making Westerns, believing he had said all he wanted to say. When Paramount offered Leone a generous budget along with access to Henry Fonda, his favorite actor with whom he had wanted to work for virtually all of his career, Leone accepted this offer. Leone commissioned Bernardo Bertolucci and Dario Argento – film critics, who later became directors – to help him develop the film in late 1966. The men spent much of the following year watching and discussing numerous classic Westerns such as High Noon, The Iron Horse, The Comancheros, and The Searchers at Leone's house, and constructed a story made up almost entirely of "references" to American Westerns. The opening sequence is an homage to that seen in High Noon. Actor Al Murlock, the shaggy-haired bandit, committed suicide during the film's production by throwing himself out of a hotel window.


Watch Once Upon a Time in the West Opening Scene in Entertainment Videos  |  View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

I have quite apparently opted to be as lazy as possible today. I just woke up from a nap I took after working a box office shift for the Writers Festival this morning, my last shift of the week. All in all I'd call it a pretty fun experience, though one has to take serving poets in stride when they run out of hot water for tea. Austin Clarke was one of the best readers I've ever seen in terms of delivery.

ARC celebrated their 30th anniversary. I think this week had a "turning thirty" theme to it. I had dinner out with Jim and others (including Chris and Kathryn's new baby Eric) for his 30th birthday, so I've been thinking about it a bit more than usual lately. I've reached the point where I'm okay with turning 30, thankfully, and I haven't even turned 29 yet. All I care about when it comes to aging these days is knowing that I'm still capable of growth, that growing doesn't just stop. I think I spent a lot of my 20's subconsciously worried that that would be the case. Thankfully, I've grown out of it.

I talked with Glenn Nuotio quite a bit last night, who graciously let me know about a job opportunity. On my way home I wondered why when anyone asks me what I'm doing, I tell them I'm looking for a job while never mentioning that I'm also writing stories and music and trying to improve at those things. When I tell people that I'm after a government job, I sometimes get a reaction along the lines of "Really? Why?" I don't know why, really. Because the money is good, and because I live by myself paying rent and bills, and because I have a debt. Mostly, though, I suppose it's because I don't know what I want to do, nor how to go about doing it effectively.

I write stories and music. Today I started a new short story to procure another rejection letter. Yesterday I finished a cover of "Sleep Apnoea" by Buck 65, which you can listen to here: It's what I do.

I took a French reading/writing comprehension test yesterday morning and ended up guessing at quite a few. I don't imagine I'll make it too far into the oral test on Monday before the administrator gives up on me. At least I'll have a more official understanding of where my French skills are at. Dave said that French training is probably available through the Senate, with classes starting in January, so I might look into that.

I worked the bar for the Writers Festival last night during the open mic, talks on Afghanistan and talks from journalists correspondents working in China and Africa, including Patrick Brown, who was a very engaging speaker. I worked the box office for another talk of his this afternoon, so my duties with the Writers Festival are half over.

I'm feeling tired and a little directionless today. I need an afternoon to veg out, but I have too much to do.

Here's an interesting article from the Citizen about how desperately Canada is going to need profs over the next decade: Universities face double threat to top talent.

I've schedule two appointments to test my French capabilities for a position I applied for with the Senate after Andrea suggested that I might as well do it and find out exactly how proficient I am. Tomorrow morning is the reading/writing test, and next Monday is the oral test. I envision the oral test going horribly. I can't SPEAK FRENCH, and I told the woman on the phone, but she said that part of the test wasn't mandatory for the position. Whatever.

It's going to be a busy week. I'm volunteering for the Writers Festival for a few days starting tomorrow night. This morning I sent off a short story to The Antigonish Review, the first story I've ever sent away for publication outside Ottawa. Now I get to play the waiting game that all writers play, fully expecting a rejection, and maybe some comments if I'm lucky.

I met up with Ash and Jen at Mod Club last night for a pint and a little dancing. I feel like an emeritus in that environment these days. It was fun to just hang out.

I've started reading Headhunter by Timothy Findley. Pretty incredible so far.

I feel like I've gone off track somehow, and that it's time to recharge somewhat with regard to ideas and daily life in general. It might be hard to do this week with the time I'll be putting in at the Writers Festival, but I'm going to try and take a positive energy away from it.

Peterborough was a good time. I love checking out Phantom Farm and seeing the family and all that. They had a birthday dinner for Dad, Andrea and myself, and were very generous. That said, I'm glad to be back where Andrea and I can sleep in the same bed.

I took Andrea to the first house I remember growing up in. I haven't been back to the neighborhood on foot in years. The house has been altered slightly but the neighborhood is otherwise almost exactly as I remember it (except much, much smaller). For some reason I felt it was important for me to get back there and see it. I had to physically be in a space where I had felt and thought certain things as a kid.

I just had to update the Adobe Updater so that it could continue downloading Adobe updates. I must be at the nexus of the universe.

Going to Peterborough tomorrow, mainly for a little Phantom Farm action. I'm quite excited to be bringing Andrea along, as last year I was really wishing she could have been there.

Last night I made chili and watched the Presidential debate before going over to Andrea's. She and Christine were watching The Ring and I caught the last half of it. I've been feeling run down today, but I took a nap and I feel a bit better. Tonight we're going out for sushi at a place on Baseline. It'll be vegetarian.

I would like to start a sporadic feature of random trivia to my updates. It is done:

RANDOM TRIVIA: In ten-pin bowling, a 7-10 split occurs when all pins but 7 and 10, the pins on the extreme sides of the setup, have been knocked over. The "conversion" of this split for a spare is a rare occurrence, particularly in televised bowling. Contrary to myth, it is physically impossible to pick up a 7-10 split by striking one pin and causing it to collide directly with the other. Rather, a 7-10 may only be converted via near freak-accident: one pin is struck, and the impact of the pin as it strikes the "pit" dictates its impact on the remaining pin. Basically, the struck pin has to bounce back out of the pit in just the right way and hit the other.

Here's the first televised instance of a bowler getting a 7-10 split conversion:

I tested for a position as a transeditor with the House of Commons today, a two-hour, three-part process. Part one was a typing test, definitely the most grueling part as it was timed and I wasn't used to the keyboard. Part two was a written grammar and government knowledge test, mostly multiple choice and fill-in-the-blanks that I feel I did well on. For part three I had to transcribe a debate from audio tape. The recorder was hooked up to a foot pedal, so it felt like driving. Every confidence that I whooped that part's ass. They're going to let me know in about three weeks if I'm worthy of an interview.

I watched JFK last night, and it's a phenomenal film. Stone's editing makes it, as he assaults the viewer with multiple types of motion and still photography to produce different storytelling effects, mirroring the frenzy of the conspiracy theories he address. For not having known much about the assassination, it was incredibly revelatory for me as a film about the importance of questioning government. Cutaway scenes during the trial of JFK's autopsy were real and gritty and took my breath away.

Speaking of dead politicians, how about that Stephane Dion? The worst Liberal showing in Canadian election history. Slow clap. The election played itself out pretty much how I thought it would, though it's certainly a shame the Liberals didn't perform better. The Conservatives are even stronger than they were before. The NDP are inching back up to where they were in the 80's. See you again in two years.

My phone woke me up a little before ten thirty. I had opened it and was able to consciously grasp that someone had called me and was waiting for me to say "hello." It turned out to be a woman calling me about a transediting position at the House of Commons I had applied for a couple of weeks ago. I'm going in tomorrow to get "tested" for two hours.

I went to the grocery store and ran into Amanda Earl. Afterward I decided to head over to Future Shop where I picked up special editions of JFK, Psycho and Touch of Evil along with a gift certificate for my brother. I've been wanting to see JFK ever since I watched the Seinfeld episode that references it constantly awhile ago. Plus, W. is coming out on Friday and I haven't seen any of Stone's presidential biopics.

I voted at the Knox Presbyterian Church at Elgin and Lisgar just before I got home. I received an email about a Senate job I applied for asking me to take a French reading/writing comprehension test. I looked at some of the sample questions and I don't think I'll be able to get a good enough mark, but depending on how things go tomorrow I might try it out anyway. Couldn't hurt.

I'm worried that I might become addicted to Mythbusters.

I'm halfway through the MacKenzie review, which I've been nervous about writing since a lot of the military language and conflict detail went over my head. So many acronyms. But the review is progressing nicely. I'm happy to be through with the book since I can now go back to reading books I've chosen for myself.

Last night Andrea and I ate tacos and watched You, Me and Dupree, which was inoffensive enough. At least it wasn't just a series of Owen Wilson pulling stupid move after stupid move to annoy Kate Hudson and Matt Dillon. After he almost burns down their house during an act of fornication halfway through, the antics shift gear, which I appreciated.

I've started a new song. I'm going to send away the short story I finished for publication in a week regardless of whether or not I've heard back from Joe. Andrea gave me some helpful comments and I feel positive about it. The next couple of weeks are going to be a little crazy with the Writers Festival coming up and the dust settling on the election (and possibly my immediate future with the Senate).

Tomorrow is election day. Don't forget to vote.

I'm... bored. Bored is the right word.

Last night I watched The Blair Witch Project, which made me nervous to look into dark corners for a period afterward. I posted film stills of it on Livejournal (haven't done that in awhile) and then went over to Andrea's and watched SNL while reading MacKenzie, which is what I've been doing today in between setting up net presences for Wire and Light.

Andrea works until ten, and then we're going to make Thanksgiving dinner (tacos). Yum.

New Wire and Light track: 93

And the myspace page is here: myspace.com/wireandlight

Feedback has staved off since I posted the first song, but I'm going to keep at it.

Last night Andrea and I watched Lars and the Real Girl, which was definitely unique. It kind of ran out of steam about 3.4 of the way through, but it's worth a look. Ryan Gosling is good in the movie, though I kept thinking of David Arquette with that moustache of his.

I started reading Soldiers Made Me Look Good by Lewis MacKenzie, an autobiography about his military career. Like Mistress of the Sun, it isn't the kind of book I'd normally pick up, though the man can certainly write an anecdote.

Goals for today: Finish the Gulland review, start reading Lewis Mackenzie's book, upload the new Wire and Light track.

The NSLSC called me this morning, but I didn't answer because I didn't recognize the number. They probably want to negotiate my repayment terms. Joke's on them. I don't have any money. I did complete a form for them that I have to mail that if nothing else tells them that I won't allow them to direct withdrawal funds from my account. I have to call them and set up Interest Relief for the next six months. Normally I'd download the forms, but I can't because my loan doesn't enter repayment until November 1st. Money!

Last night I went on the Ghosts and Gallows Haunted Walk tour with Andrea, Ash and Ian. It was pretty rad. We toured the jail that's connected to the Ottawa Hostel, looking at cells and the gallows near death row. The stories and history were pretty creepy. The staff at Haunted Walk have the option of staying overnight in the jail, which I would be all over if I had the option.

I finished the new song. I'll post it tomorrow. Andrea's going to take a pic of me first for the myspace page.

I also finished reading Mistress of the Sun. I suppose it was okay for what it was. I'm 100 words into the review, which will be vaguely positive, admitting that I don't know shit about 17th century France, so give it up for Sandra Gulland, who does.

I've been plugging away at French lessons, enjoying it. Last night Andrea came over and we ate pasta while watching Weird Science, an 80's teen flick that escaped my adolescence. I couldn't stop laughing at the scene where Bill Paxton voices the mound of talking gremlin shit or whatever Lisa turns him into. Seriously, I don't remember the last time I laughed that hard at something so stupid.

Going on a Haunted Walk tonight. It'll be a first.

I watched Lost in Translation before I went to bed last night. That movie makes my heart beat very fast. Every time I see it I'm struck by the contrast between what Coppola shoots from high above the city and what she shoots from the ground. It's an outstanding thematic technique.

I went to HMV today and picked up season 7 of The Simpsons since I've exhausted my Seinfeld collection. I also picked up Ben Folds' new album along with the special edition of Casablanca.

My goals today: read 100 pages of Gulland, study a chapter out of my French textbook. The second presidential debate is on tonight.

I'm turning 29 in one month.

I'm trying to make peace with the job situation as it stands right now. I've applied for a few positions but I'm nervous about landing myself a job that I don't want or that will be tough to get out of for a month while I travel next year. I think I'll be better off waiting until the Senate resumes after the election to make a serious effort at the hunt. I have a bunch of volunteer stuff to do soon, plus a trip out of town and a couple of reviews to write that work would get in the way of. For now I'm just trying to breathe and not panic. There's no need to yet.

I do have to set some goals. Today I'm going to get a working draft of the short story I just wrote off to Joe for his thoughts. I need to dig further into the Sandra Gulland book and read about another hundred pages. I've been working on a new Wire and Light track today that I want to finish off tomorrow.

Last night I watched the No Mercy pay-per-view online. The Jericho/Michaels feud has been stellar, the best I've seen in awhile.

I got up at 8 AM this morning after Andrea left and thought, this is great, I'm up at a reasonable time. I went out and bought some groceries. On my way to Hartman's this guy in a wheelchair was crossing the street and signaled to me. He asked me to help him to the bus stop at Bank and Somerset, so I gave him a push.

I did my laundry but I couldn't stay awake and ended up napping for close to two hours. I'm still tired. I did, however, finish the first draft of the short story I've been working on, which is pretty damned exciting - it's the first I've finished since September of last year. Once I get it polished I'm going to send it out to publishers outside of the city.

I went to The Works last night with Andrea and Erin and had the Hold the Phone burger, aka one of the burgers they serve with peanut butter as a topping. It was delicious.

I've decided that I want to travel around the world. I already knew I was going to, having scheduled a trip to Europe next year. But I've finally made the decision to, if that makes sense.

I finished The Robber Bride, which I found to be one of Atwood's weaker efforts. Parts of it are fantastic and offer valuable insight into how a person is defined through the different relationships they have with people, but almost all of her male characters are hurtful weaklings and almost all of her female characters are dull and spineless. I'm sure she did it on purpose, but these characteristics on a first read-through just irritated me. As hated as she makes the book's antagonist, at least she's interesting.

I'm getting tired of watching politicians playing games. All of them do it. They twist the truth, the person they're accusing responds and twists the truth right back at them. It doesn't matter what party it is, what leader it is. They all play games. Why? To advance a set of socio-economic beliefs and principles that people either agree with or don't. That's why I never understood why people who supported Hilary Clinton said they'd vote for McCain once Obama secured the nomination. Ignorant spite. I don't know how many actually made the shift, but it would have required a shift of principles, a far bigger one than would have been required to support another Democratic candidate. It wouldn't make sense.

A person has their beliefs. Education changes beliefs. I watched the Canadian leaders debate last night with an open mind, open to education, hoping to chip away through the game playing to get at the set of principles I most agreed with. I'm willing to give even Harper a chance, even though I lean left - pro-gay marriage, pro-choice, pro-arts and social funding. I was most impressed with Elizabeth May, whom I agreed with on nearly all counts. She had her shit together. She'd done her homework, because she realized how important the opportunity was for the Green Party, and she didn't let them down. She shined.

But I can't vote for the Green Party, because at a local level I'm not as sure about Jen Hunter. Neither can I vote Liberal, because Dion didn't win me over on his views - calling the arts in Canada "fun," quibbling with Harper over which party was to blame for which failure over the last ten years. Layton always strikes me as a little too much like a used car salesman, but as vague as he was last night, I agreed with his principles - arts are the soul of Canada, the leash of big oil needs to be cut and the funding put into job creation and environmental technology advancements. The NDP are socially progressive with regard to discrimination that denies funding to groups vying for recognition. Centretown has a solid history of NDP leadership. So Dewar's getting my vote.

I'd love to see a Liberal-NDP minority, but I don't think it will happen. Harper will get re-elected. I think the NDP will end up with more seats. It interests me to see the advances the Green party will make after the campaign they're putting on.

As far as US politics are concerned, I think Sarah Palin is a joke. Golly gosh gee darn she ain't prepared to be on any stage.

Last night I watched the movie Juno before going to bed. It was the second time I've seen it and the first since I saw it in Toronto back in December, and it milked feeling I've had for the past couple of weeks or so: I'm nostalgic for the semesters I spent in Toronto. I spent everyday of the time I spent there defining the city as not-Ottawa, coming and going virtually alone from Keele Street to campus and back, and over time the city grew on me. I don't know what I miss about that time, exactly. Maybe it was the time I spent by myself in movie theatres (though I saw Juno with friends), maybe it was the hours spent in the stacks researching, the walks up Keele, the thought that the only thing I really had to care about was studying and completing assignments until I could move back and see my girlfriend again, all of these things. I've always been a nostalgic person by nature. Lately I've been thinking about the amazing things I've done in the past year and wondering how many more amazing things are in front of me, and what I have to do to see them through.

All this time in the basement gets me thinking. I need to get outside more. I took a walk today, down O'Connor to Gladstone and then back around up Kent. I don't get much sun in the apartment so it comes as a shock to realize that it's out there.

I wrote 1,100 words yesterday. I haven't had an idea take me over like this in ages. The further I chop into it the clearer the pathways to the other side become. Creativity is hitting me in waves. I've had a lot of energy to volunteer lately, but it's a matter of scheduling everything - I have a trip to Peterborough coming up, plus shifts for the Writers Festival, as well as keeping an eye out for a job. I want to spend my time wisely.

So many political debates to choose from tonight. Well, two, actually - the English Canadian leaders debate and the American VP debate. Do I want to watch Harper get gangbanged, or watch Biden and Palin try to out-gaffe each other? I'll see them both, ultimately.

Andrea left me a banana in my shoe. I was walking home this morning and ran into Laura, who apologized for not having a fruit to wave at me.

I started into the new short story, got about 400 words down. Not sure where it's going but I'm having a good time with it, describing a house in bad need of repair and a man on oxygen suffering from lung cancer, as good a time as one can have writing subject matter like that.

I really want to see Religulous. It's playing alongside Hamlet 2 at the Bytowne next weekend. Double bill?

I bought a clock for three bucks at Hartman's. The tick-tock is kind of comforting. At the store I ran into Ben, who I hadn't seen in awhile. He's sub teaching a high school class.

Karaoke is not my thing. Never has been, never will be. It's a Will Ferrell film waiting to happen, in which he plays a guy who is really into it and competes with other people who are really into it and none of them get the joke that they're cheesy and awful and have outdated hairstyles. But if karaoke is your thing, the Atomic Rooster on Bank Street gives you your fix every Monday night.

Today I wrote a review of Cameron Anstee's "Remember Our Young Bones" chapbook and sent it off to the Danforth Review. I have an idea for a short story that intrigues me. A beginning, anyhow. If I don't start writing it tonight I'll get at it tomorrow.

Andrea is working on an article in the kitchen. We just finished watching Reservoir Dogs. The water in the building has been turned off for the night. I don't know if it has anything to do with the fact that the water heating kicked in the other day or not, but those pipes get hot.

I woke up and my alarm clock said 2:49, bringing me to gasp in horror, but then I shifted position and noticed that it actually read 12:49, which is a little closer to status quo for me. I made some breakfast and headed over to All Books in search of Margaret Atwood's "The Robber Bride" and Timothy Findley's "Headhunter," both of which were in stock and cheap because All Books does, in fact, rule (even if it did look as though a hurricane had hit it). I finished Yates' book yesterday and it definitely reads as material Sam Mendes would be attracted to - a couple living in suburbia who slowly lose their selves. I started Robber Bride today on a recommendation from a girl I met at Humber. If anyone can point my way towards multiple-point-of-view narratives I'd appreciate it, since I'm mining for writing tips.

Findley's I picked up because I heard it was about Kurtz from Heart of Darkness being let loose into modern day Toronto, which sounds right up my alley.

I need to start my writing output back up to something like 500 words a day. I'm working on another song that should be done by the end of this week. Plus I'm going to try my hand at a review. Last night I watched Romeo + Juliet, the Baz Luhrmann film from 1996. I used to have its poster on my wall. I invited a girl to see it with me when I was 16, but she wasn't particularly into me, so I didn't see it until it hit video.

I had been looking forward to last night for awhile, and it didn't disappoint. Lots of folks showed up and I think a good time was had by all. I got my first noise complaint, just a friendly request from a tired neighbor asking me to lower the music. Testing the limits of a new place is important. I was up until 4:30 and went to bed after some late late night diner.

Today has been all about cleaning up, picking through and sorting the wreckage in the aftermath, taking in the calm after a storm. It's as lazy as Sunday afternoons get. Tomorrow I'm going to get a bite on sending out some more resumes. I've been thinking about my employment situation a little too much lately for my tastes.

Jon Lajoie had a rowdy crowd at Zaphod's last night and put on a funny set that was mostly jokes about how he ended up doing what he's doing. Of course, he played his more famous songs live:





So that marks the first show I've ever gone to put on by an Internet sensation. Andrea and I were talking about videos we could make that would bring us fame overnight. Something along the lines of us acting as Siamese twins and dealing with everyday jams. I'd watch that.

I'm sprucing up the Flatcave for a celebration tonight. It will be the first time since I moved in that more than three people have been in the place at once.

Zaphod's is exactly the same.

It's shaping up to be an eventful weekend. The In/Words open mic is tonight, Andrea and I are seeing Jon Lajoie perform at Zaphod's tomorrow night, then I'm having a housewarming on Saturday.

I finished reading The Way the Crow Flies. It's an absolutely riveting mystery narrative rich in detail that brought tears to my eyes at times. She doesn't hit every single note right in the last quarter, but does enough to make it more than worth the read. I feel as though I've picked up some pointers about how to write certain psychological profiles reading it. Yesterday I started Richard Yates' Revolutionary Road, which most will become familiar with as the movie coming out this fall that reunites Leonardo DiCaprio with Kate Winslet. Sam Mendes is directing it and the material feels right up his alley - a 50's suburbanite couple yearns to break out of the mold that "settling down" has trapped them within. Pretty interesting stuff so far, but it's definitely a guy's narrative.

My apartment still smells like paint. I'm trying to get rid of it once and for all using fresh air and vinegar.

Though I follow politics, I don't usually talk about them, but I can't resist this. Out of the mouth of Stephen Harper, the Prime Minister of Canada:

"I think when ordinary working people come home, turn on the TV and see a gala of a bunch of people at, you know, a rich gala all subsidized by taxpayers claiming their subsidies aren't high enough, when they know those subsidies have actually gone up – I'm not sure that's something that resonates with ordinary people."

The Conservative government cut $45 million from arts programs in the latest move to cripple the arts community in Canada, after proposing to censor Canadian films, and THIS is his rationale? You know what this boils down to? Harper thinks that "ordinary" people don't care about art. Artists aren't "ordinary" Canadians, trying to make a living, because they're spending all of their enormous subsidies on galas. Galas. What the fuck planet is this guy on? In what eleventh province can I turn on a television and get pissed at all of the never-ending GALA coverage that's being slammed in my face at my, the taxpayer's, expense? Idiot. Moron.

What pisses me off is that many Conservative voters will totally support Harper's viewpoint, assuming that money is going towards something their kid could paint instead of towards their kids' hospital bills. Culture keeps civilization running. It's what allows parents to feel BAD about their sick kids. If you make it impossible for artists to thrive, this country will become cold and sterile. You're talking about the end of humanity in humans. It's not a tenuous link.

Okay.

Yesterday Andrea, Sarah and I had dinner at the diner and walked up Elgin in search of ice cream. We popped into a couple of bakeries. It struck me during our quest that there are a lot of places in Ottawa I've never seen, little cafes and such that are hidden inside these faceless buildings that all sort of blend into one another. I'm intrigued to start checking out some new places because it might give my impression of Centretown a bit of a facelift. Not that I don't love it here.

They're starting to pave Bank Street, patching the violent holes that have been gaping since the spring. It's looking far less apocalyptic. Walking down the middle of the street instead of using the sidewalks always produces a surreal feeling in me.

It's gorgeous outside today. My absolute favorite kind of weather, and time of year in general. The very end of summer, the very beginning of autumn. Nothing beats it. I moseyed on over to the elections "office," the Metropolitan Bible Church on Bank Street, and updated my registration. All of the pews had been taken off the floor, mounted by cords at the front, and replaced with desks and computers. Separation of church and state... er, province.

I was going to buy a box of Halloween candy but opted for cookies as the really good stuff hasn't come out yet. Which means that I can afford diner. This is what not working does. It forces me into thinking that I'm making significant compromises, when all I'm doing is chipping off a little bit more from the money in my account. There will come a day when I'm working full time, paying off my loan, not paying the slightest amount of attention to problems such as poutine vs. 75 miniature chocolate bars.

RANDOM TRIVIA: The deepest hole ever dug into the earth is only 40,226 feet deep, just over seven and a half miles, and took 22 years to complete. That's only about 0.096% of the way across Earth's diameter. It's called the Kola Superdeep Borehole, and it's located on the Kola Peninsula in Russia. That's deeper than the deepest natural point on the planet, the Mariana Trench in the Pacific Ocean, which is located between Japan and New Guinea and has been measured at different depths averaging around 36,000 feet.

Another fun fact: Earth is not a perfect sphere. It's wider at the equator than it is between the poles. Holy crow!

The chapter has been sent to Mr. Kertes. Part of a foundation set. Here's to seeing where it takes the story.

Kat and I had dinner at the diner last night and talked. We came back to my place and I showed her an episode of twitch City I'd wanted her to see for awhile about the earth being taken over by cats. Afterwards I went over to Andrea's and we watched Esma's Secret, a Bosnian film about a mother and daughter that she recommended, which was quite good. I picked up a few flicks at Future Shop today - Once Upon a Time in the West and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, since I'm on a western kick, along with Monty Python's The Meaning of Life.

I've started working on a new song, one with a bit of a faster pace.

I feel shitty today. Problems that I'm hoping to get past. A day to grab a blanket and watch The Wizard of Oz on the couch. And I've done that, so now there's the evening and night to pass. I'm meeting Kat at the diner at 7. We haven't hung out in forever.

Friendships aren't what they used to be. They change when you get older. You don't make friends as often, and the friendships you have are harder to take for granted. Andrea isn't simply my girlfriend; she's my best friend. I tell her everything, far more than I tell others, which even so must not seem like much at times. I don't feel as intensely as I used to. Sometimes I'm downright shocked at how zen I've become when I compare it to the agonizing phone calls and tears and cigarettes and shitty poetry and awful words that linger from five or six years ago. I don't meditate. I don't pray unless it's for other people. Sometimes I think about what's holding me together, and it's always the same answer: beauty, truth, art. You're born into the world, there's art, and then you pass away. That's my life philosophy.

I spent the last year and a half wondering if I'd ever make something again. Lately I have been. It's taken commitment (and not working a day job). I have words again. I have MUSIC again, really, for the first time since high school. And as much as it drives me crazy to carry around ideas in my head, I'm endlessly grateful that ideas are coming again, and that they're hanging around. When I lie in bed and stare out into space for an hour and feel myself completely absorbed in what a character is thinking and why they're acting the way they are and what they want me to say about them when I bring them to life, it's unlike anything I've ever felt before. I think to myself, "This is it. This is what it feels like to be a writer. I've been going about it in the wrong way all along." I've rediscovered the part of myself that is filled with life at 3:30 in the morning, with that outside-nature feeling, and I've been trying to fit it to my whole self like tailored clothing.

Maybe I do feel as intensely as I used to. Maybe I'm exactly the same in my chest compared to when I was 22. I'm just making different decisions, lending a greater amount of thought to where that energy flows. I've hurt people and I need to be more careful. Maybe in that respect I'll always be the same, for the rest of my life, and it will be up to me to keep making decisions to get to that next point where the words appear on the page and the chords change into each other and I'm still in love.

I'm working on the death philosophy.

It's been a productive weekend. My first chapter is a hair away from being ready to send off to Joe, I'm continuing to motor through The Way the Crow Flies, and I just finished a new Wire and Light Track, "Clear."

You can listen to that right here, over at last.fm.

I'm hungry. I've been sitting in front of the computer for too long. When I'm working on music I forget to eat.

Has anyone else noticed that Sarah Palin sounds exactly like Mrs. Generic from Bobby's World?

Looks like I'll be bartending for three evenings at the Writers Festival. Do they even charge for drinks? Tip well, I'm unemployed. Should be fun getting lit folks tipsy.

I went out with some of the gang last night to the dirty Oak. Steve played a solo acoustic set and had a guy join him on a bongo for a few songs. Afterward a few of us straggled over to Matt's and I got quite high. In a rare occurrence I turned down a trip to the diner, it being after 3 in the morning, and my sleep schedule being what it is, and my cashflow being what it is. Plus I missed my lady.

It's starting to get chilly in the Flatcave. Eventually I'll have to figure out how to use the rads. This is my favorite time of year weather-wise. Pleasant during the day and chilly at night. I can roam freely in a hoodie and feel comfortable. Soon enough I'll be strapping the iPod on and kicking up leaves.

I hate my sleep schedule. I cannot for the life of me fall asleep before 3 o'clock in the morning, and then I routinely sleep until at least noon. If I were back on nights, it would be fine, but as it stands I feel like I'm on a completely different schedule from the rest of the world. I need a job, something, to return to a semblance of normalcy. Andrea is in bed by 11. That's four additional hours I have to amuse myself. If I'm at her place, I can't write. I lie in bed trying to calm the flow of ideas, because I want to be beside her. I need to start forcing myself up early and going to bed at a reasonable time. At least until work at the Senate resumes.

Tonight I'm going to a volunteers meeting for the Writers Festival. For one reason or another I have never attended a single Writers Festival event. Since I'm feeling more like a writer lately than ever before, it's probably about time I started lending a hand in the community again.

I got the words written last night. They came to me in the middle of reading The Way the Crow Flies, so I set the book down and went at it. Wrote more than I planned, until it was finished. Miraculously, MacDonald's book is touching on a lot of experiences and emotions that I'm attempting to communicate in the novel. It's giving me ideas, and at the same time I don't feel as though I'm ripping it off.

While I was in London last I picked up a copy of The Squid and the Whale, which I'd never seen until I watched it last night. Being that I'm in love with movies about writers and the writing life, I can't believe it had eluded me for so long. It made me laugh out loud on more than one occasion. It has flashes of Wes Anderson's brand of darker family comedy, but it's more merciless in its portrayals. A fantastic script. Jesse Eisenberg (who was great alongside Campbell Scott in Roger Dodger and was about three years too early to achieve Michael Cera's current popularity) has a great line: "I never envisioned myself as the type of person who would end up in this position." That is purely a line of dialogue pulled out of my young-adult head.

The salad turned out phenomenally.

I'm updating from the Mac, which means that Rogers received a shipment of wireless modems. I headed over first thing after showering. Now everything is pretty much as it should be in the Flatcave.

Last night I watched the last episode of Ken Burns' The War series because I wanted to check out scenes and details of the battle on Okinawa. It left me feeling a bit sad as war footage is wont to do. I'm handling living alone differently than I thought I would. Most times it's fine but I do get a bit lonely.

I made a salad and dressing this afternoon based on one of the recipes Kim gave me. Other than that I've been working on music all evening. I NEED to get back to the book. I'll write 500 words tonight or fall asleep trying.

Another application is sent off into the ether. Though I know PH received it, because they emailed me back to ask me to reformat my writing sample.

I think I've figured out a direction for a character in my novel. He does a very bad thing and I wasn't certain what motivates him to do it, but things slid into place last night as I was lying in bed trying to work it out. I just have to WRITE IT. But it's going to require a bit of research first, and disturbing research at that. Tough, but I never want to feel as though I'm closing myself off to reality if being open to it is necessary.

The Way the Crow Flies is building effectively. It opens with a poetic description of the murder scene of an unidentified young girl, and after 125 pages it returns to the scene again, leaving the reader wondering how the dots will be connected. Very effective tension. I loved Fall On Your Knees and while this novel only has flashes of that novel's storytelling process I'm still a big fan of MacDonald's prose.

Last night Andrea and I watched Clueless in bed. I'd never seen it. It was light fare punctuated with moments of self-awareness here and there that made it enjoyable. It certainly prescribes a healthy dose of kitschy mid-90's pop culture, for better or for "oh god what were they thinking?". Side note: I watched The Princess Bride earlier in the day, so yesterday turned out to be a Wallace Shawn-fest. I now have a huge craving to take in My Dinner With Andre again.

The chili was a success. Afterwards I went over to Christine and Laura's to hang out for a bit before I crashed at Andrea's. Apparently Andrea's roommate is meeting some dude from the Internet tonight for the first time, and he's crashing at their place, so she wants me to come over in case the guy is a total shifty creep.

My kitchen is being overrun by fruit flies. I cleaned it a bit and it seems to have helped. I'd love to throw out a couple of boxes but I'm worried that the TV and speakers are going to break down. I'll give it another week.

I've been spending today getting my resume ready for submission with Public History tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Chili's on. I'm making my first batch since the failed venture just after I moved into Riverside. So far so good, but we'll see how it simmers.

Andrea and I had lunch/breakfast at Eggspectations today. Afterwards I went grocery shopping for chili ingredients. When I got home I worked on a song. It's now almost ready for a bass track. I'm also working on a cover but it's sounding kind of bare. Need to put some pepper on it. I'm hungry.

I started reading Ann-Marie MacDonald's 800-page opus The Way the Crow Flies. Last night I polished off Wayson Choy's lovely All That Matters, which completes my most recent collection of the novels by writers who were giving workshops at Humber in July. I emailed Joe last night to ask for a employment reference and to tell him that I should have the first chapter of my novel drafted for next week. I've effectively set a deadline for myself.

I watched Singles before going to bed last night simply because I wanted to hear Kyra Sedgwick's character talk about how great it felt to have her own place.

I went home for a couple of days to attend my grandmother's funeral on September 11th. The family met at 10 AM at the funeral home for a last viewing of her body. There are two uncles with funeral directing experience on my dad's side of the family, so it went smoothly. The funeral took place at St. Mary's church in Lindsay. Grandma was Catholic, and it was hands down the most ceremonial funeral I've attended. For my folks' sake I went up and received communion (there's a first). Many of those in attendance responded appropriately in prayer while my siblings and I stood in quiet awe.

Her middle name was Madeline. Hers was only the second deceased body I've seen in my life, the first since my other grandmother in 1992. We weren't close. She didn't get along with my mother, though there was no vitriol between them at the end. Last time I was home my dad told me about the time he drove out to Lindsay one evening years ago to tell her that she was a lousy grandmother to his kids. I remember her as a somewhat frail, intimidating woman who had a way of staring a hole into you, an intense gaze that I believe I inherited from her. She had a voice like creaking doors and avalanching rocks rather than a wind through meadows and opening flowers. When I remember grandma I remember her voice and eyes.

I'm not sure I loved her. How can you love someone you barely knew? Whose memory evokes receiving socks for Christmas as a child? I remember being ten and playing a game with my sisters. We would hide in their room and peek around the door frame at grandma as she sat in the living room talking to our parents. Occasionally she would look over and penetrate us with those eyes and we would collapse in laughter and retreat. I have no earthly clue what she thought of us on lonely nights when she must have taken stock of her family. To us she was largely absentee.

This is how things are sometimes. It wasn't our fault. I don't know how things can turn sour, how relationships with the people you're supposed to know and be close to for the rest of your life break apart. My uncle Greg, her son, didn't attend the funeral. I struggled to remember the name of my dad's sister and avoided talking to her sons, my cousins, so screwed up by their dad before they divorced that we'll never be able to carry on a normal conversation. But then, I'm not normal either. I'm a product of being kept away from these people, to the point that I'd be fine if I never saw them again for the rest of my life. I've turned out solipsistic.

Since I moved out of my parents' place I've become more and more interested in where I come from, but I'm realizing that the links to my past are falling further and further away. My dad showed me a collection of pictures at the reception after the funeral. One of them was a picture of my dad as a baby, sitting on my grandmother's knee, with her mother standing beside her, and her grandfather completing the quartet. Four generations of a family.

"11166-17 Walter LABADIE, 22, glass worker, Chatham, Wallaceburg, s/o Peter LABADIE & Mary BLAIR, married Elma MACHET, 19, Montreal, Wallaceburg, d/o Edward MACHET & Palmire LEONARD, witn: Lawrence BLANCHARD & Christena ROSS, both of Marine City Mich., 17 Feb 1917 at Point Edward."

Peter Labadie and Mary Blair. My great great grandparents. Walter Labadie and Elma Machet, my great grandparents. Thelma Labadie and Adelore Emery, my grandparents. Who were they?

This was the first time I'd ever accompanied a casket to the cemetery. The ceremony was respectful and peaceful. I felt sorry for Leonard, the closest person to a grandfather I'll ever know, who has always been a terrific guy and who took the best care of Thelma he could. I watched him sit near the grave while the priest led a prayer and the sun glinted through a tear that hung on the end of his nose.

She'll be buried beside Adelore, dad's dad, who died forty years ago next year. Thelma will be nine feet deep in a concrete vault, so that Len can be buried on top of her at six feet when he passes. Before we left the cemetery we visited my uncle Leonard's grave, a brother of my dad's I never met before his death in 2000. On the way home we stopped by Rosemount to pay respect to my mom's parents. All of my parents' parents, now gone.

Emery-Albrecht, Thelma M. (Née Labadie)

Entered into rest at the Ross Memorial Hospital in Lindsay on Sunday, September 7th, 2008, in her 87th year and was the loving wife of Leonard Albrecht and the late Adelore Joseph Emery (1969). Loving mother of Ron and his wife Joanne of Peterborough, Michael and his wife Cheryl of Lakefield, Greg and his wife Kathy of Lindsay, Mark of Oshawa, Laurie Dancy and her husband Rick of Lindsay and predeceased by her son Leonard and his wife Ali. Sadly missed by her 12 grandchildren David, Sarah, Holly, Adam, Michael, Keith, Christopher, Jason, Lisa and her husband Jeremy, Lucas, Cameron, Craig and by her great grandchildren Erik, Kyle, Zoie and Anthony. Survived by her sisters Diane, Marjorie, Marilyn and by her brothers Robert and Jim and predeceased by Gordon, Walter Jr. and Dorothy. Lovingly remembered by many nieces and nephews. Friends are invited to call at the STODDART FUNERAL HOME, 24 Mill St., Lindsay on Wednesday from 2 to 4 and 7 to 9 p. m. Mass of Christian Burial from St. Mary's Church in Lindsay on Thursday, September 11th at 11:00 a. m. Interment St. Mary's Cemetery, Lindsay. In Thelma's memory, donations to St. Mary's Restoration Fund would be appreciated by the family. On line condolences may be directed to www.stoddartfuneralhome.com.

Well, it looks like the upcoming election has offset the Senate's schedule, as I was afraid it might. Dave says it looks like they won't need me until November at the earliest.

So I need to find another job.

And I just this second found out that my grandmother died, which means all of my original grandparents have now passed.

Hmm.

Okay.

Rogers finally came by to give me Internet access today. The cable guy told me to go to a Rogers Plus to exchange the modem for a wireless one, except the store is OUT of wireless modems, so I won't be able to get the Mac online until they receive a shipment. Fucking company. They're ALREADY screwing me.

Okay. Breathe. A lot has transpired over the last few days. Connolley's wedding was certainly a wedding. I got a kick out of the minister, who was really jovial about the whole thing, constantly cracking jokes. I kind of respected the fact that he didn't bring God into the ceremony as much as a lot of ministers do. I'm looking forward to not having a wedding to look forward to, all things being equal.

I've been living in this apartment now for three weeks and it feels like three months. Things can't happen fast enough for me to get everything in place. I still need my couch. I'll feel a lot better about the place once it's here. I never thought I'd be so picky once I started living on my own.

A group of us had dinner at Tucker's in the Market last night and ended up at Mod Club. I stayed until close for the first time in forever. It was fun. I'm tired today. I think I might just watch movies and chill, get away form the world for awhile.

Andrea and I are heading to Kingston for Connolley's wedding tomorrow. I've been looking forward to this wedding as the last real "event" of the summer, and although I'm definitely happy for Greg and Kelly I'm looking forward to having it behind me. I'm kind of wedding-ed out at this point. In any event, I'm going to try to hit Kingston on the first shot in the rental car and not end up in Arnprior this time.

A bunch of us went to The Lookout last night, a gay club in town. It was the first time I'd ever been to one. It's pretty much the same as any other club, with more men wearing tighter t-shirts.

I think I need to start getting out more.

I've been having trouble sleeping lately. I'll lay awake in bed until as late as 4 in the morning, and the other night the reason struck me: I have to get back to writing my novel. It's been stewing in my brain for the better part of two years now. Last night I sat down as my kitchen table, my new workspace, and started writing out the narrative outline and descriptions of the woman I want to try and bring to life through the senses of others. before I make her a series of assertions I want to make sure that she is, in fact, real. That she is a person who makes decisions and has a set of ethics and lives a full life despite the tragedy with which she is afflicted. After sketching out in general terms the first half or so of her life, I was able to fall asleep at 2. It's working.

The new television arrived yesterday and it's pretty fantastic. It makes me want to revisit my entire movie collection. Yesterday Andrea came over and we watched Punch-Drunk Love. Unfortunately, she wasn't a fan, but damn if it didn't look great on the new TV.

I've started reading Alligator by Lisa Moore. Moore is a good writer, but I'm having trouble getting into it despite the phenomenal first chapter. Her descriptions of small things are poetic but too numerous. Maybe it's just not something I'm in the mood for right now.