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The Long Good Friday
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1708
As close as we'll come to a day off.
Closed for lunch, open at 3:00 for dinner.
The customers, as to be expected, the lost and straggling souls who couldn't wrangle an invite anywhere for Easter.
I've worn my blue-fur bunny ears, slight levity, the book is grim. I propose a crucifixion, re-enactment of The Passion to make the Filipino kitchen feel more at home, but there's a lack of volunteers. The dishwasher, Billy, doesn't want to be crucified. He's a bad Catholic.
The last table in at 7:30, reservation, last table served at 8:00. The owner leaves at 8:00. And then it's time to wait.
Tables linger. A walk-in at 8:45, get the order, put it in, warn them we're closing...
9:00. The expeditor and hostess leave. 4 tables left in restaurant.
9:10. G leaves, all fucked up.
9:15. A leaves, patching things up with girlfriend.
9:30. Z leaves with the kitchen, Billy and Jimmy.
Leaving me and M. Another 45 minutes before we can leave as well. It's the long Good Friday. I hope, against odds, the Karma I've built up hasn't been squandered.
Arts & Culture with boy
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1874
The Boy. 4 Weeks of catching up. Now I've covered a couple of trifles - like Hooters, overlooked the ridiculous details:
Me: "This is where I met your mom..."
The Boy: (Who knows better): "You know, She's been asking if I think you're still sane..."
Good. very good. Better because I know it's true and she's just cause, but, quite simply, I know that as sane as I am I must appear to be mad in an insane world. Which brings to mind the saying "In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king...". I don't know why.
I've recommended him an abundance of films and books. He's finished Laclos: "Les Liasons Dangerous", Maughm "The Razor's Edge", Celine "Journey to the End of the Night". He's doing well. Film, last 3 were "Being John Malkovich", "Brazil" and "Withnail and I". His reviews, succinct, at 15 he still keeps his opinions to himself, he's reluctant to debate, but he notes: "I Think I've found your character archetype in the character of Withnail....I know I must say this after every film...". I'm somewhat offended, I like Withnail, but he's a bit over the top, even for me. Still, it's good to make an impression.
Week ?1 (going back in time a few weeks to days that are unblogged, written and lost and mostly forgotten...):
#1: The Flea Market. It's been a few weeks since I've been, miscellaneous trifles, a WW2 Tommy Helmet for the Boy, he thinks it's cool
#2: We start at the Market Collective. We've vague plans of going to Red Deer, meet Grandpa for lunch, boy calls, no answer. Hippies, local crafts, good Karma. We pick up something for my daughter, a ridiculous felted creature that somehow I imagine she'll like, locally made, expensive, but unique, art, it will be her birthday gift. We get our picture taken with it.
#3: From here to Indian Buffet. Same as every week, balance one's diet, a weeks worth of vitamins and minerals in a day.
#4: Off to a few thrift shops. And in the mileage we stop at a firing range and shoot off some 45's, a HK and SAM, swapping after 25 rounds. I like the HK, my shooting is much improved, most bullets hitting the target's inner 2 rings, I swap eyes sighting but forget to swap hands, hit target to right about 4 inches but I recognize my error, I might just be a great ambidextrous shooter...
#5: On the way back to downtown pass a demonstration in front of City Hall, lots of police, we get out to investigate. Syrian pro-revolutionaries - green flags: "Stop the killing of babies and innocents in Syria" vs Syrian anti-revolutionaries - red flags: "President... is doing his best, let change be gradual and keep killing babies and innocents....".
It's that black and white...
End of day....
***
Week ?2, a film about Charles Eames, ACAD, part of the Fine arts film festival, "Eames: Architect and Painter", worthwhile, if only because we can find these treasures at garage sales, local, they're not inaccessible. And their love affair, despite the trifling flaws, well, it was exceptional. A rare thing.
Midweek: A play at U of C, part of the U of C's Drama Fine Art's Presentation, the threat that if he doesn't start working harder, applying himself, this could be his university...
But, in favour, the theatre's, the lights, I have to laugh, how many theatres offer this? How long will it be before he realizes the standards of staging the university grooms him for? They should provide a single light, a derelict stage, they should hire people to throw bottles...This will be Drama. In the real world.
***
He asks me about my degree. English Lit, he presumes, and I correct him. "Drama". There's a look of horror on his face, the sins of the fathers...
"Not to worry. Dramaturgy, I was more interested in writing. And Psychology. But I've pursued neither, I can't blame my current position on my education...But perhaps we should return to Jubilation's..."
***
We're culturally fluent, a film, play, new restaurant, something new every week. The chore of the part-time dad, I reassure myself that hour for hour I'm still getting more intelligent time with him than anyone else, Mother, father, teacher, but I resent - in a way, - the expectation to forever top myself, introduce him to new things, experiences, no one ever did this for me, for anyone I knew. It's the new parenting thing, "Live for/through one's children", this is the new experiment, I'm uncertain of the results...
And this should catch me up, there will be things forgotten - always there are things forgotten, and the notes once lost are tough to recall...
Andrew Bird - Fever Year
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Film
- Hits: 1495
Music doc at the Plaza, link here: http://www.calgaryfilm.com/2011/schedule/film/2002.
Which proves to be good, and confirms some of my observations and speculations about his music. That said, no one has done more covers of Andrew Bird songs than Andrew Bird has, he reinvents every one for pretty much every tour. So if you're expecting to hear a favorite song, that may happen, but it might not be the way you like.
Personally, I'm a big fan of tenuousness done live in the basement.
Hooters
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Restaurants & Cafes
- Hits: 1676
It's been a long running joke, threat, that I'm taking the boy to Hooters. And on Sunday, and not really keen on another Indian Buffet and having already visited our thrift shops and tried on some transsexuals discarded 4" stiletto heels (Who could resist? Especially with the boy along. Part of it was for the boy, the other part I won't discuss here), Hooters seemed the natural next destination.
If I'd bought the shoes I could have applied for a job. But if I'd bought the shoes I'd had to buy the pedicure, the nail polish, the stockings, skirt, corset and trench coat, make up and lipstick, I would doubtless have made a new world of friends but it would have cost me (and part of me is saying "Hell No, you MAKE money with an outfit like this...."), and somehow or another it wasn't meant to be. Boring old straight dad.
So we end up at Hooters, where I seem to remember kids eat free and I ask for a kids coloring book and crayons in the hopes that it creates, supports, the illusion.
The boy's not playing along. 15 and he's thinking for himself....
The first waitress, a tall brunette, boring, that bored "can I help you" look on her face. We look like we're having too much fun. The second, blonde, a little friendlier, she's the ticket. And I color, with my left hand, the backside of the coloring paper, with a big heart and "her name+dad" in the middle and little unicorns and rainbows and flowers all round, and whenever she approaches flip it over and shove it towards the boy.
We let her order. Then menu's pretty boring, wings and such, I'm not guessing that's why people come here.
The food, good for what it is, but before you rush out let me tell you anyone with a deep fryer and a can opener can pretty much open a Hooters. SO what you'd expect, but that's not a good thing.
For dessert, a brownie, giant, even sharing with the boy we don't finish half. If somehow they could have condensed the quality into a quarter the size it would be a tasty treat, as it is it would be easier eating sugar from a bag.
Tip, pay, leave, the boy wants to stay and see the waitresses reaction to the colored placemat, but as he refused to assist me in this I'm not staying, he reports from the car that she's smiling at the table reading it...
1 more off the bucket list. Now to go parachuting...
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