THIS PAST SATURDAY I WENT TO THE BEST CONCERT OF MY LIFE.
And yet I feel tongue-tied trying to communicate how absolutely earth-shatteringly awesome this experience truly was.
As such, everything inside of me is screaming USE YOUR SWEARS USE THEM ALL USE ALL THE SWEARS.
But I won’t.
So it’s hard.
But the question remains – how do I get you, dear reader, to feel that same exhilaration I felt stepping into that club?
How to make you feel that same energy, coursing the length of my body?
Tingling the ends of your fingertips? The dips of your earlobes?
Tickling the backs of your knees, slipping down into the folds of your shoes?
To hear the murmur of the crowd, a beehive of anticipation?
A vibration.
How do I make you crackle and snap with the electricity of it all, the flash of the lights, and the intensely, indescribably, intoxicating sounds careening off of the stage, permeating every last crook and cranny of the sweat-slicked, pulsating room?
How do I make you dance until your blistered, blisters cry nay command you not to stop, never stop, your mouth a perma-grin, a high school smirk stained with salty secrets, and the knowledge that all of this is so good, and all of this will never be so good.
So if I cannot do this, I will just say – GO TO HOT CHIP.
Go.
…
Elsewhere in the cosmic kitchen:
Zen.
Brunch.
Weirdo.
Cat.
View.
…
Tell me where you’ve been to Nowhere that you shouldn’t do Tell me what you’re good for I can tell you something too.
It’s Friday friends! Put on your smoking jacket, pour yourself a snifter of brandy, and take a load off. Today’s fry-up will take care of the rest.
Dancing queen.
DUDES.
Do you have gangnam style?
I DO.
No joke, I love this song so much it is destroying my life. Because you see, while I cannot STOP listening to it, I also cannot JUST listen to it.
Oh no.
Whenever I hear the blasted tune I must, MUST boogie down for all of my life.
A couple of days ago I actually tried to make a video of just me dancing to the song, but then I scared the crap out of my cat during the first take and then on the second realized I looked CRAZY breaking it down.
So no video folks.
JUST KIDDING – I would never do that to you! Here it is:
So now you can take my word for it when I say that I am a dance maniac and no one can stop me.
NO ONE.
Further proof: when I was in Russia partying my wretched vodka infused-butt off until 5 in the morning every night, I had a Russian chick come up to me and ask me: “Excuse me, but – where from?” “Ya Canadka,” I responded. “Potomu?” (Why?) “Ohhhhhh,” she replied back. [motions to my dancing] “VEEERRRY interesting!”
And I thought her country men and women were the craziest dancers I had ever seen!
So yeah. MANIAC.
Fall is here. Ring the bell.
Autumn is nipping at our heels here on the West coast of Canada. And it sure is lovely.
Last night the sun was a ball of flaming red fire, and the sky was a melting mixture of pinks, oranges, and yellows – like a solar Shirley Temple for the thirsty space traveller.
Because the weather in the morning has taken a turn for the cooler side of things, I was forced to call my bluff and finally go and buy some tights.
In the process, I picked up some other fall must-haves, including these sweet, sweet kicks:
Joe Fresh baby – it is a truly wacky (said in the voice of Michael Kors) store at its worst, but goodness knows if it doesn’t know how to score me a deal at the best of times.
I am also crunching fallen leaves like a loon – going out of my way to get every last one of them. A man walking to skytrain a few paces behind me this morning actually burst out laughing after watching my manic trajectory down the sidewalk.
But hey, JUDGE NOT RIGHT?
There are worse things I could be doing than stepping on crinkle-cut leaves.
Goodness knows.
Clean eating, clean living.
I have cut out all processed foods from my diet, and most grains and sugars.
Urg, I feel like such a broom admitting that for the next eight weeks I will be paleo-ing it (with the best of all the other paleo brooms) but alas, it is the case.
So remember – NO JUDGING.
Now, I must stress, this isn’t anything to do with losing weight.
This is an attempt to regulate my (pretty well documented) sugar addiction, and I figure it’s a pretty good way of making sure I cut out all junk food from my diet.
Now, the paleo diet traditionally means no grains; however, because I am running a half-marathon on the 30th of this month, there is no way I can do this, as that would be ridiculous and foolhardy. So instead, I am eating less than what I would regularly consume, and then will cut them out completely once I am finished the race.
So far I have completed four days and I am surprised at just how easily it has been. No chocolate. No candy. No chips. No brake-down.
What’s even better is I have been cooking up a storm, and I am so, SO excited about coming home and preparing amazing meals. This, along with curbing my sugar intake, is definitely the best result so far of the program.
So bring on the next fifty-six days – I WILL OWN YOU ALL.
…
What’s shaking in your neck of the woods lately? Let’s dance and you can tell me all about it.
These are the things I thought about over the course of my 6km training run:
Holy frick, I FEEL AMAZING.
My strides are suuuuper. Suuuuper strides.
Hmmm. If I have a particularly saucy dream about someone, could they possibly be having the same dream? URG, stop thinking about this at once.
Okay. How do people go down staircases two steps at a time and not kill themselves?
I don’t actually like pesto as much as I think I do. It’s just SO oily.
I wonder why I also put that extra “s” into obsessive. It’s rather an obsession. OMG I AM SO WITTY.
Stop that.
I am going to cook the crap out of dinner tonight.
Man, what is UP with Canadian politics at the moment? And is Justin Trudeau really going to run for Liberal leadership? He could call his campaign “Just In Time.” And play that album by Justin Timberlake.
Actually, that will probably guarantee his total defeat at the polls.
Don’t do that Justin.
This route is so beautiful and the weather is pretty much perfect. Even if it’s getting cooler every day. The sunrise this morning was so striking it took my breath away.
Not enough people take the time to pause and just let this beauty pour over them. Through them.
Okay Hallmark, get a grip.
Good grief – that lady is just out smoking her joint! And she’s totally, totally a properOLD. Between her and the dude outside of Douglas College, my day has been chock-a-block full of smoker sightings.
So, like, do people just smoke weed out in the open these days? Is this a thing now?
If I was forced to take a drug test at the end of this run I would have to claim a Ross Rebagliati.
What ever happened to that guy?
Also, someone really needs to bankroll my entirely new wardrobe from Club Monaco.
Jeeze, does anyone even like Banana Republic? AND SERIOUSLY I HATE THEIR NAME SO MUCH – WHY DOESN’T ANYONE EVER TALK ABOUT THIS? I am going to open a competitor clothier and call it “Uneven economic development and social stratification R US”
That may require an acronym.
Oh yeah baby, not even breaking a sweat! Do it do it do it.
That outhouse should probably be cleaned.
Darn it. M has strata tonight which means an empty house for most of the evening.
On the plus side ALL THE DROP DEAD DIVA IS BELONG TO ME.
I own quite a few dresses. I really am going to do that project where I wear all of them and take photos in the exact same post with the exact same backdrop because of course everyone wants to see that.
Mostly I just want to wear all the pretty dresses.
I will call the project “Playing Dress-Up” OR OR OR “Dressing on the Side.”
Hah, I AM witty.
Get out of here.
NO I’M WISE.
Looklooklook that that dog it is wearing a sweater! With little ears on the hood! CUTECUTECUTE. Thooouuggghh…he probably hates his life.
Yep, in total agony fo sho.
K, that driver totally didn’t stop for me at the crosswalk. I hope he gets crabs in the bath.
Here are two conversations M and I had this weekend:
(P.S. I am still laughing)
[Scene One: Earls restaurant, patio. Saturday night, drinks and date night]
Me: You are a very good looking man.
M: [unintelligible gibberish]
Me: [laughing]
M/Me: [both continue laughing/trying to make each other laugh by making crazy faces]
Me: I’m trying to figure out what race you would belong to in Lord of the Rings. I used to always go with human – you’re a good shoe-in for Aragorn. But you also have quite a bit of hobbit in you. And elf. And dwarf.
M: What about orc?
Me. Yes, definitely orc. And uruk-hai.
M: Goblin?
Me: [thinking] Nah. Never goblin.
M: [nodding, playing with his wedding ring. Then, thinking to himself] Preeeeecccciiiooouussss….
Me: Oh goodness, of course. I have no idea how I didn’t think of that. You definitely, definitely have some Gollum in you too.
M: Hmmm…
[pause]
Me: [pretending to be all nonchalant] So, um, what race do you think I belong to?
M: [not taking a beat] Sauron.
Me: Hahahahahahahahahaha…ohhhh noooooo….
M: Not what you were looking for?
Me: You know I wanted you to say elf.
M: I know.
Me: I KNOW I’M LITHE AND BEAUTIFUL.
M/Me: [continuous laughing]
END SCENE.
[Scene Two: Driving home from restaurant. I cannot stop taking photos of the sky – the sky which I have been yammering on about all day long.]
Me: [taking a photo] ZOMG THE SKY IS SO BEAUTIFUL.
M: I know.
Me: The sun is SO huge, and the way the clouds are clustered that way is just magical. It seriously looks like the gateway to heaven.
M: It does look like heaven.
Me: I know I’ve been talking about it all day, but I honestly can’t get over how amazingly phenomenal this is. It literally takes my breath away. Even just looking at it is making me choke up…I really feel like I’m going to cry.
M: I have a feeling your period may be on its way.
Yesterday I worked a thirteen hour day. Coming home, I was completely knackered.
This is what I thought about as I rode the metro back to my home:
Such a fantastagorical tale had never been known.
Such was the way of these things.
Reading a bit like a history of popular culture in the early 20th century, and a tiny bit like a teen trash comedy, the combination was meant to amuse and articulate. Perhaps, most terrifyingly of all, it was the clearest representation of the inner workings and thought processes of two individuals.
One of them had come to a realization that he was often too pessimistic for his own good; he sometimes sought humor in disappointment as some kind of weak balm.
This would have to change. And it did.
Genuine excitement should not have to be manufactured. Riding on a jetski at 60 mph – for example – really has a positive effect on this. You cannot help but feel exhilaration, your mouth open and cheeks flapping with the force of the wind as you carve your way up an arm of BC’s mightiest river.
Twisting and turning you see how far you can go before the mechanical power under you can, shuddering, hurls you into the wild, flowing water. You cannot feign emotion on such a contraption, taking those risks.
SO – how to make life more like that? How to seek out, in everything, a sudden charge of passion and fury. What triggers those flags in my mind to suddenly send me rushing headlong emotionally at something or for something. I don’t need a cause to believe in so much as I need a credible dialogue, a wild formulation, a mysterious agenda.
Just think, the first people who ever read the Principia by Newton or Galileo’s letters must have thought they were reading some Clive Cusslerian escapade of fantastic proportions… and yet we now know it to be real.
But does that make Cussler any less exciting than Newton? Or just more poorly written?
(Definitely the latter.)
Also, should belief be THE defining reason for goodness?
I don’t think the best stories are always the truest ones. I like the ones that hover at the very edge between what-might-have-been, the possible, and the barely possible.
In this space we stop our minds from only formulating those images that we can understand and see, and make things that have never been made and will never be made, except inside the limits and demarcations of our own fancies, the thrum of our birthing brains.
Rant and Roll 