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So I go into the Best Western Parking lot to feed the crows. That way I'm off the property and there's no complaints.
The crows, I've had complaints that they've been cawing outside nonstop looking to be fed. I don't give in. This would be training them in behaviours I'd rather not.
And the other day I awoke to one on the railing outside my door. Waiting for me. Funny, I feed them on the other side of the building, but they've found me out. Clever. There's no feeding them here, though, there would be complaints and evictions...
But when I'm outside in the morning, pocket full of Dollarama peanuts, I set up a sort of scrimmage, a football game, flicking the peanuts into the parking lot - they prefer the shelled ones. And even if I can't see them they soon see me and chaos ensues.
First 1, then 2, 3, 5, 8...all hopping along, one swoops in and catches a peanut on the wing, others, shy, fly close and then hops carefully towards it, too shy and he loses it to another, others show up and chase each other away, some - 1 greedy, attempts to take 2, 3 in his beak, but often loses them when challenged by another, pigeons by the dozen now showing up and running interference, a peanut is too big but they can gather up the crumbs from the crows pecking...
Make it a game, try and flick the peanuts where each crow has a reasonable chance of grabbing his own, it's like football and I'm the quarterback, they seem to get it, going wide when they've finished their peanut for another...
This is the morning, before my coffee and maybe again after it's ready and I've checked the news. In the afternoon they're on their own, although I've still been followed, I'm trying to set up the expectation that this is an early morning thing, not an all-day thing, the early-morning football and then they too should be off and about their day...
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Thursday, a long, slow day at work - days, slow, nights, stupidly busy. I'm on the day shift.
A customer from the old restaurant comes in for take away, tells me that the old restaurant, the old "Cock-n-Suck" has re-opened, new owners, new name, new menu.
I get a lot of news about this place, on the street, old customers, and I'm curious, of course, I spent 6 long years there and I'd be glad to see what they've done. And while I'd be - not loathe, but cautious about returning I've had enough people recommend the new owners that I'll at least case the place.
Head out, they've done a great job. Literally unrecognizable, all the hardwood wainscotting painted white, tables - white, walls, white, I'd post photos only the staff are in them and they might not want the publicity. It looks great. No longer the dim, dingy and dated pub. The new owners' there, she recognizes me, is hyper-cheerful, I offer my sincerest congratulations, they've done a great job of the place, they've perhaps 8 or 10 staff on the floor, I take a seat on the patio.
I've never seen that many staff in the restaurant at once, ever, and the ones I'm seeing, they're all front of house. I get A**** as my server, she's a local, used to own the bar/grill at the golf course, a professional, a little older than me.
Chat, I'm recognized by a few of old customers...It's not spoken aloud but I get the question.
Glance over the menu, the've done an OK job - it's much truncated with more interesting food - a lot better for the kitchen, for the servers. The prices, well, nowhere is cheap and I've got to come back when I'm a little more flush and try the "Puttanesca" - $35, I'm curious, though skeptical that they can pull off a $35 pasta (remember, I worked in ---*** Vancouver, where a plate of Bolognese cost $50, $150 with shaved truffles - but chef there, world renowned, everything was made from scratch. Pasta, tomatoes hand picked by chef and the cow was named "Bob". And I'm pretty sure that's not the case here in sunny Balfour...).
I let A**** order for me, she would know what's best...
A sushi roll. Their own take. I look at her, "you gotta be kidding me...", but she doesn't know where I work, and I can't fault her...
I ask about the staff, why, how are there so many, and she's explaining this is a "try-out/training", they won't have that many when they're fully up and running. And they tip-pool, which - well, in Vancouver, Calgary, when you're working amongst peers that's not a bad thing. But out here you're seldom rubbing shoulders with equals, and that makes me a little skeptical. Surveying the talent pool they've recruited so far, a few incompetent, some inept, A****, who knows what she's doing, a nameless bartender, older, who probably knows what he's doing as well, a demon (not on tonight, thankfully, who knows what she's doing but does it badly served with a big helping of indifference). I ask A**** about her, a quick micro-smile tells me all I need to know, ...
So that's that.
***
I've run out of data, I didn't think it was a big deal but dealing with 256 Kb streaming is painful, music, videos, reddit, facebook, impossible, and there's another week left on my cycle. I have to stop lending my phone to the neighbour, she watches movies all night and the data has been used up, I talk to her, she's welcome to borrow it, watch movies on her TV, but she's got to shut it off when she's done, she's been falling asleep and the movie runs all night...
***
Unity. Old friend moving to Saskatchewan to nurse her elderly/ailing parents comes to her senses, the parents, all promises now off the table and there's a list of draconian rules and expectations. She's decided to go to Calgary instead.
Only the day her moving out BC income support comes through, to her rescue, and so they find her another place to live, pronto, upper Rosemont, a shabby building under perpetual renovation, income support. And so she's staying, only for the sake of 24 hours she lost the best community housing gig in Nelson, close to downtown, and got moved about a 45 minute walk from basically any and everything. Not that it matters, she has a car, but - , well, ... Nelson's a walking town if you can manage it.
***
Friday, Saturday night at the Sushi Place surprisingly dead. Surprising given that weekdays they've been hopping. And Sunday the boy comes down from Calgary for a couple of days to visit. He's packed a few boxes for me - 4 boxes of Antique Candlesticks (52 in total, 12 pairs and the rest singles), I keep two of my favourites, the rest are taken in 2 loads to the Antique shop. "I was a regular Jean-Val-Jean when I was younger..." but they don't get it. Nobody does. There are some treasures, mint Georgian, Late Victorian pairs, some singles even older, but - I'm done, as is I probably still have 20 in a tiny apartment and the boy assures me I have many more boxes in the locker.
2 boxes of books, and I'm amused to note that I have a couple of them already on my shelf. These will have to go as well.
1 large box filled with kitchen stuff, rice cooker, coffee grinder, Belgian Waffle press which I have to keep for sentimental reasons (to make waffles for the kids...). A pile of unnecessary cutlery, garlic presses, wooden spoons and ladles, and a mint condition complete set of Lagostina Cookware. I dispose of my thrifted pots and pans, there's no need.
1 broken riding crop, it wasn't me and the boy argues it wasn't him but I'm sad, there will be no riding the magic pony until I get that replaced. 1 empty briefcase.
2 boxes of art supplies, mostly defunct and expired acrylics and oils, I'll have to go through and salvage what I can.
1 box of mixed media, those things to all other eyes are inexplicable but I'm delighted.
And one box of "ju-ju", those dumb-ass tiny things I've collected, roman coins, trifles, relics, reliquaries, portable shrines, fonts for holy water, religious kitsch, Catholica, buddhist amulets, Indian Gods, etcetera, etcetera, my own Wunder-Kabinet of sorts, only there's not the cabinet for display.
The boy assures me the locker, it's fast becoming orderly...
***
The visit, good, evenings a few drinks on the patio, I confess the dearth of cinematic interest and excellence, he tells me he's been watching "House" - all 7 seasons, and he's had to watch them all to process my parenting style...
I've had a few friends recommend this to me, "I'd like it", for reasons they wouldn't elaborate upon, but with the boys recommendation I'll give it a try...
***
The apartment, bathroom, it's a mess. The added boxes make it impossible to sweep, the forms and abstractions of my paper mache, the shredded newsprint, confetti, have drifted all over the floor, and - a little at a time, hard to believe only a few months ago I passed inspection. But with the riddance of the candlesticks, tomorrow the books, I should be able to begin again. Time now to wring out my liver and grow a new one and get to work...
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First link a delve into the often complex environmental factors that create Schizophrenia:
Link: https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2025/07/28/mary-had-schizophrenia-then-suddenly-she-didnt
What's of interest here is how Schizophrenia may be an autoimmune disorder. Of course, it's many things, and around this town I generally ascribe it to being a pot-or-drug-induced psychosis, so many of the homeless and mentally unwell with substance abuse problems, often exposed far too young to "medications" that they can't handle. And the fact that pot has grown so substantially more commonplace, easily accessible, and formidably more potent than the pot of their grandparents. So it's nice to see some other takes on this.
Second Link: http://airestech.com/
Now, given RFK Jr's position in America at the moment we might expect to see a lot more similar and like devices on the market - geometrically inscribed playing cards, tokens, amulets, etc, that promote the protection from non-existent dangers and toxins. I mean, you weren't getting sick from EMF radiation before, and you aren't now, so why shouldn't someone make a quick buck off of it? That someone SHOULD be me...
Third Link: https://bexxly.com/
And another fine quack medical device. And I'm still looking for a jeep...
This is going to get big. I need a medicinal oil that can be spread around the inside of a plague masques and pomanders, my own patent formula, I mean, look at where Alberta is with the Measles and Vaccinations and you know this is going to be big soon...
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So work this week has been busy, and keeping me busier than I'd like. Thursday night, "The Sound of Music", at the Capitol, wonderfully well done and some real talent in the performers - but, well, my heart wasn't in it and I made it to the first intermission before bolting.
Friday, an interview at the bank - basically ruling them out as a source for a vehicle loan, only on newer vehicles and for sums I don't care to borrow. Which restricts my options, and I'm not thrilled about going through a dealership, but this walking about town is getting to be a real bore.
Friday evening, madness at work, full on for 5 hours straight, Friday Night Market and a too-full restaurant and patio, too shortly staffed, running out of glasses, dishes, glasses again...all night long. Never ahead of the curve long enough to manage to set the tables, couldn't even if you had the time, the dishwasher isn't keeping up, and - really, I need a jeep, a way to decompress on my days off...
Saturday, busy again but at a more civilized pace.
And in the meantime, cutting up cardboard and trying to piece together shapes for a rather large paper mache project, which has filled my apartment with shredded newsprint and cut-out cardboard pieces that in no way can I seem to piece together to make a mold or scaffolding ...
So this fills my time, a trip a day for groceries to the CO-OP because I haven't the energy to make a trip to Save On, and I'm liking the fancier cuts of meat and Kombucha.
Last night, after work, running into C*****, from the old restaurant, he was fired for being a lazy dog-f*cker, he was, just a kid then though, and he's telling me he's got a job lined with the new owners as a server, and you know that will last all of a week, if that long...
And today, traditionally a day off but I'm working, early, and so it goes, I complain about work but there's no complaining about the cheques, especially if I'm doing death on the instalment plan, and that catches us all up.
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Came upon this on the way home from the supermarket. The little insets, presumably once to hold garbage, then fenced off against the homeless and junkies, and once again retaken...
The radio playing, it only wants a TV, a painting and some books for the shelf. I take a picture, then immediately out of nowhere I'm confronted with some 30 year-old broken-toothed bleeding-gummed crackhead, who wants to fight until I agree, then confines himself to swearing at me and backing away...
I'm taking pictures of his house. Now, there's no law against this, he's not inside, and I doubt very much he owns or rents this...but...
Not a regular on the streets, but the alleys attract the more hardcore junkies, and I'm a little pissed, there's no winning with a crackhead, no chance he'd win but you'd be hard-explaining taking a (very legitimate) swing at him.
They rather exploit a disadvantage that's entirely of their own making, I have to say...