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Amy Wood - Cinnamon Heart
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Music
- Hits: 1807
Frantic last minute attempts to find the perfect, unique, one-of-a-kind gifts for Xmas.
Things aren't looking good, the elusive, perfect hand-made gift just isn't falling into my lap.
I hit up the Market Collective - local artisans and craftspeople, ethical gifts, search, search, but there's nothing remotely giftable for those in my small circle.
The arts and crafts, they're good, just nothing that inspires me, nothing that shouts out "this would be perfect for....".
But in the background, on the stage, there's an artist - Amy Wood - and - surprised that nobody's listening - well, she's good. Very good. Big voice, curious lyrics, local, she should be a lot more popular than this...
Link: Amy Wood, on YouTube (Lonely)
Krampus
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Ideas & Questions
- Hits: 1562
Now this, because it's Xmas and I'm not even slightly in the Xmas spirit (what waiter is? Who has time?)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLnl5ZWG4tg
The Austrian version of Christmas, compete with Krampus, this year I am Krampus, and I marvel (briefly) on how pasteurized, homogenized our version of Xmas has become....
Calgary Impound Lot
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2150
Now G's had some bad luck last week, been pulled over, spot-checked, and the police officer smelled marijuana in the car and issued G a 24 hour suspension.
And G has it in his head that he wants his car back right away, can't wait, and so on the Friday afternoon he arranges for another waiter to stay late and replace me, I have to go with him and the nephew to the Calgary Impound Lot to retrieve his vehicle. The nephew drops us off, and I drive back in his car as he isn't yet able.
He's pissed off, understandably, and paranoid, he's worried about stuff in the car, he had some dope in the door and "money in the car", something me and the Nephew interpret to mean he's got thousands of dollars wrapped in saran and hidden under the dashboard or behind the door panels, but actually refers to the loose loonies and twonies he has for meters in the console.
The Calgary Impound Lot, it's a bleak place, a few acres of derelict cars, perhaps a dozen city employees (of pretty much every ethnicity but white, the city having gone overboard on it's quota's), and it becomes obvious pretty quick that this isn't a fast procedure. There's the waiting in line, the filing of paperwork, wait to be called, walked to the car to retrieve registration, insurance, walked back, more waiting to pay...
There's lots of time for G to chat, and he finds plenty of like-minded souls here, some attractive girls to chat up, another guy in on a 24 hour suspension for the smell of marijuana in his vehicle, they get to talking, G's worried about the pot in his vehicle, getting his registration he had done a quick check, it looked as if it was gone, guy hadn't even considered his dope but will check first thing when he gets his car back...
Eventually we're led on the final tour back to the car. It's shanty-shanty with these civic employees, there's no sense of urgency but plenty of uniforms and badges, for many a laid-back immigrant this must be the job wherein they discover they've died and gone to heaven.....
And leaving the lot, me driving, we're passed by guy, he rolls down his window and yells over at G from a cloud of smoke - "they didn't get mine...."
Lucid in London
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1654
I leave for the lunch shift today, they don't need me. So I go downstairs to sleep, I can't go home, there's contractors, there will be no sleep had there other than by them.... The owner's in a foul mood, it's cheque-writing day, and as I try to sleep I can hear all the goings on in the restaurant, the medley of banging pans and Italian curses, it's not the best place to nap, but somehow I manage it...
I'm in London, not London, walking the streets, making a map....
I realize I'm dreaming, this is Lucid, the sounds of the restaurant keep me from falling completely asleep...
I'm on an ancient cobbled street, fine, small row houses, grotesque gargoyles and ornaments, the mood is drear but there's a heightened sense of reality, every gargoyle is different, and as I'm making a map I note that this place hasn't changed, I must take the boy....
now it's a lucid dream and so I wake myself to make my notes.....
....and I'm unrolling a roll of rice paper-parchment, adorned with printed courtesans, I write upon the paper (yellow light), the ink bleeds into the paper, I return to the dream....
The same street I just left, the same as I left it, and I'm walking....a horologist, a bright tree in front, a stump, embellished with watch dials and crystals, broken wares advertising his trade, and I pull aside a crystal to check the dial, it looks like a good make even if it's broken...
Walking through London not London, making my map, there's a festival of sorts, it's evening, and I walk up, people, South American, this is different....
.....and I wake again, knowing this is a dream, make my notes upon parchment....
The din above is too much, and I awake from this again, perplexed, in the squalor of the restaurants basement, the lucidity was real, but the waking was into another dream...
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