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Revolving Door
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1742
It's been almost a couple of years since I've seen him, by whom I mean Fucking Asshole, he was barred and hasn't been seen at the restaurant since.
I know there have been customers lobbying on his behalf, asking that he be allowed back, and the owner's been adamant that he not be readmitted, so I did a double take when I saw him at the door. He doesn't remember me (I made myself scarce around the table, didn't particularly want to deal with him), he's here to meet another regular customer.
He's polite, gracious, a far cry from his former self, and when his guest arrives he talks about all the great life changes and self improvements he's made. The owner comes out and sits with them, they all talk - all has been forgiven and the former asshole is now careful to be sincere and courteous.
They shake hands with the staff, everyone is happy, they'll be back.
We seem to have a revolving door, to be barred means that we'll simply pick up another client that's been barred and give them another chance, the owner tells me: "Sometimes they need to be told to fuck off....". He's right.
William Burroughs and the Strange Demise of London's First Espresso Bar
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Link of the day
- Hits: 1461
A thought provoking blog post on how William Burroughs revenged himself for a lousy espresso and bad cheesecake.
Nerds
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1808
He comes in every other week or so.
He looks a bit like John Liithgow - a younger version, 30 something with long, prematurely greying long hair.
He comes in alone, in the early hours, dines usually alone, tips well. Friendly enough, he's not one of our usual clientelle. He works for a living.
And he stares long at G, or me, he has this huge smile on his face, he's by himself and it's not busy and so I make light conversation.
He's in IT, a programmer, he's on his way to either a D&D game or Ballroom dancing lesson. And I've figured out why he stares long - too long - at G or me, it's not (necessarily) that he's gay, it's that he has no rudimentary social skills.
G has grown to hate him, thinks that the prolonged eye contact is a come-on, maybe it is, but IT folk, and I've known a few, they're weird.
He comes in one night with a few of his friends, more IT folk, they are all fucking weird. Strange glances, abnormally timed social skills, you don't realize what socially awkward is until you meet someone who inadvertently thwarts all the norms. Some of them we've served before. They're all a bit too friendly, they all work together, all play D&D together....
They take forever to eat. We need the table. And after dinner, no coffee but they sit and chat, there's the fear they're going to pull out the Monster Manual and Dungeon Master's Guide and start playing D&D at the table.
They're an odd bunch, eventually they leave and we all breathe a sigh of relief. Nerds.
The days escape me....
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
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Time is running out.
I have only until April, the bills must be paid, renovations finished in the condo, I must acquire maps, equipment and relevant experience. How far off the beaten track will I get? Should I learn to Kayak? Buy a gun? Acquire remedial survival skills?
Time passes.
I've finished my first book in 3 months, a slender volume of some 125 pages, narratives and poems of Northern Alberta and BC. Relevant, but somehow I couldn't immerse myself. And no less than 100 other unread books upon my shelf, yet still I don't think I'll be attacking them soon.
There are countless projects that need doing, completion, yet when I find myself on that rare day off, free of commitment and obligation, there's too much to be done, painting, writing, there's xmas and treasure hunts at the local thrift shops, I find myself paralyzed with a sort of Agoraphobia.
I'm not agoraphobic, of course, but I wonder at my reluctance to leave the house, get fit, go to the gym, for coffee, dinner, dancing, do anything, something, outside of myself. Truly there's nothing to keep me here but housework and chores.
"There's too much to be done" I tell myself.
That's true, but it would be much better served by my going out and then coming home and just getting on with it.
I speculate that it's depression, probably it is, chemical? Not likely, more likely circumstantial, caught in the mindless rhythm of day to day existence, nothing to push myself forward, challenge me, help me to evolve. And, were I depressed I would expect to feel - well, depressed. As it is I just feel empty. I'm a worker, a silent, unobserved pillar of the economy.
Somehow I've found myself stuck in the mindless routine of work and home. Home, so much to be done, only another 5 or 6 months. I need to find a catsitter, finish the stairs, other light repairs, trips to the recycle, sell off shit, then Alaska.
If not Alaska then at least BC and the Yukon.
SO it is that the days escape me.
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