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Day Off - Sunday, January 10 - 10
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1994
It's almost done.
Set off for the flea market, equal parts bus and walking, remembered that I had forgotten my camera. I've been meaning to bring it with me, the HD movie feature probably will never be used but there are an infinite number of photographs to take, the broken ice and clear rivers within on the Bow, trees, a charming street evangelist who's doing a remarkable job of luring people into his shtick with posters and illustrations, querying his audience on their goals for the new year, I want to move in and listen but he catches my eye, thinks I'm interested, and so I move on.
The flea market, it's been a while, loads of treasures today, I find a vintage man's watch, probably 40's or 50's, plain, white face with silver markers, the makers mark faded away, "Automatic" has become "tomato", and the weathering makes it seem that it's the manufacturer and I think that it's probably Russian or German before I realize that it's simply worn. The Polish dealer wants $35, I bargain, get it for $30, he raises his hands as if he's being robbed but what can he do....He assures me it's working fine, Automatic, never have to wind, and I've heard that one so many times before that I disregard it, there's something about the case, the weight of it, the heavy crown, the fineness of it's simple design that evokes an old Rolex or Omega, and I'm curious about the lack of markings.
Nonetheless I set it and wind it, so far it's been keeping time, needs a new strap but overall not a bad deal. I'll be curious as to what the make is when I take it to the jeweler.
Other stalls, a old printers/silk screen box, with roller and screen, a ship's periscope, dated 1943, mint condition, he wants $85, I can't justify more than $50 although it would be perfect for the office, move on, more curiosities, finally an antique watchmakers box, 6 drawers, heavy wood case, I bargain, the dealer's inflexible, get it for $80.00. Which isn't a bad deal, isn't a bad deal at all. Now to get it home...
Fortunately I know the dealer, talk to him, he lives in my neighborhood, he'll drop it off.
Kill another half an hour, lured back again and again by the ship's periscope but I've already overextended myself; leave and make my way to the Higher Ground.
Another half hour passed, the clientele is boring today or I've chosen a bad corner to sit and eavesdrop from, think to call my friend but I can't, I'm too tired.
I walk briskly home, past a rather excellent busker on the bagpipes, sad, genius on almost any other instrument is so well regarded, but on the bagpipes ... he's got the whole "Newfie Chic" thing going on, dreadlocked hair and goatee, ragged and torn clothing and bag on the pipes, but there's something about them I find a call to arms...and I regret again having not brought my camera.
Then home, the part of the day I've been most looking forward to, the nap; 4 hours of interruptions; unable to sleep, close, closer, but never quite and I'm regretting the last few cups of coffee; a flicker of a dream; I'm across the road from the war in Afghanistan, to the north are high, snow capped mountains, peaks lost in the clouds, it's a spiritual landscape, I'm a reporter and the war, just across the road, is getting closer, random images intersperse themselves, dreaming but not quite asleep...
By 5:00 I've given up.
Dinner is a lump of pasta with sauce, I've overcooked it but eat because I'm hungry and profoundly lazy.
Then some abstracted procrastinations, dishes, laundry, make the bed so I don't have to wind myself in the sheets to keep warm, a trip to the store for some fags, I empty the watchmakers chest, it was last held by a mechanic and so is filled with odd nuts and bolts, some interesting tools, vintage razor blades, drill bits, glass cutters, a gold chain - ? - solid? heavy enough, no markings... mostly rubbish, some 30 pounds of it in all, sadly no watch bits.
And now I'm almost done. Catch up on my blog postings, watch a screener of "Men who Stare at Goats", so far only OK, a lousy cam version with people's silhouettes popping up every few minutes or so, but from what I've seen of the film it'll be just fine...then bed.
Day off
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1936
The day off, 2 in fact, they've juggled my schedule, big plans, no plans, an empty inbox and the world's my oyster.
So much to do....
I haven't yet made a list, I'll save it...
I have to catch up on my blogging, but that can wait. First stop will be the flea market, then Higher Ground. Chill for half an hour or so, then call a friend for coffee. Then home, nap, laundry, eat, dishes, ...
2 days off and the world's my oyster...
Locked Out
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2018
Twice this week it's happened. Get dressed, lock door, step outside, close door.
Check door to see it's properly locked.
Pat yourself down to ensure you have your keys.
Damn.
Check door to see if you really locked it or if you can force it open with a push.
Pat yourself down again and double check for your keys.
Walk around the house, check the side door, the back door...
Locked.
Try the basement window. Open. And it takes about 5 minutes to force it open, it's a small window, only opens about 10 inches, and another 5 minutes to wriggle through it and drop to the basement floor. I get stuck on first on my genitals, then on my belt, but eventually fall through and work my way upstairs.
The Cursed Wallet
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2216
I've this old Louis Vuitton wallet, I've had it forever, it was a gift.
Not the sort of thing I would buy for myself.
But in the last few years it's started to fall apart. The holder for the drivers license has lost its seam, and the library card and bus tickets have started to burst out of the credit-card slots. There are lottery tickets, dry cleaning receipts and pawn stubs where most people keep their money.
It wasn't made for this sort of abuse.
It's cursed; a wallet, as a gift, is always supposed to have some money in it. This one came empty, and has pretty much remained empty ever since.
One could think of other reasons it's empty, like my erratic work and romantic history, children out of wedlock, poor financial planning, but that would be patent superstition.
Still, I like it. It's a sort of symbol of the decaying aristocracy, the tattier it gets, the more weathered, the more the seams burst apart, the greater my attachment, Louis Vuitton is not supposed to be tatty or worn, it's the wallet of appearances, Louis Vuitton wasn't made for bus passes or library cards, Louis Vuitton customers drive Mercedes and only read books that they've bought...I rather cherish the incongruity of my ownership of it...
The owner of the restaurant, it's the day after the Christmas break, he's asked me a question that necessitates the reaching for my wallet, a pretext, and when I pull it out he notices that it's the same old one I had before the Christmas break, he wonders aloud why I haven't switched to the new one; I hasten to reassure him that it's only a matter of time, I've been busy, and after work when I get home move my essentials into the new wallet.
This new wallet, it came with no money in it, it's cursed.
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