You made me cry. On a normal day this would be bad. But today you have to get in line. You got to me late. I'm sorry to say you're one of many since this morning. Also, you have just proven my point. That's all.
What's worse, I stopped singing. Just now.
Posted by hKath at 12:24 AM ()
Thursday, November 29
Now Playing: Les Colocs, "La Rue Principale"
Two different sighs.
One is for André Fortin, who won't be making any more Colocs albums because he's dead now.
The other is for Fordy who always said he was intending to eventually play this song and never did. Even when Dédé died.
You know what's kind of funny? In Québec, I think the concept of "ghost town" is more adequately conveyed by the phrase "un Val-Jalbert" than by actually saying that a place is a ghost town. The story of Val-Jalbert is one of those things, like how to recognize the leaves of trees by their shapes, that is drilled into you in school and never quite leaves you.
God these guys were depressing. No wonder he killed himself.
"Juste en bas d'chez moi sur la rue Mont Royal
y'a un ti gars qui a pas d'biiiiicycle
y'a une mère qu'c'est pas sa mère
pis son père c't'un alcoolique"
And then he tapdances.
Twisted, I know.
Posted by hKath at 3:48 PM ()
Wednesday, November 28
This poem is by a girl in my class. I really liked it, so I kidnapped it. Really, that's what I did.
"Zde zil Franz Kafka"
A man with dark hair
in a dark blue suit
It was his home once,
and Gregor Samsa woke up
one morning to find
he had changed
into a giant cockroach.
People scurry in and out
of the bookstore
and no one notices
but they eagerly want
one of his books
bought at Golden Lane.
Outside, the man slowly
begins to fade away;
inside, his books remain
a misunderstood success.
Outside, a woman stomps
on a scurrying cockroach;
inside, Gregor Samsa's story
falls off the shelf.
... totally, eh?
Posted by hKath at 3:47 PM ()
Tuesday, November 27
(Wanna know something funny? I screwed up so badly I can't get rid of that last post if I *write blogger* and ask them to do it for me. Stupid notepad ;) No wait, I love notepad. Nevermind.)
What I learned today: I don't want it to be karma. I want it to be me.
After taking part in a heated discussion about Jian's newest "piece" (as he would call it) with Sally and AJ, I set off in search of a bank so that I could exchange the American twenty-dollar bill in my wallet, in order to feel less broke.
I was offered a ride by my landlord, who stopped his car in the middle of the street and yelled my name, causing irreperable damage to my nervous system, but refused out of embarrassment. The first bank I went to had closed half an hour before, so I had to rush out past Donlands to get my money, which turned out to be a small fortune (thirty-one dollars and change for a twenty! Still blows my mind!)
So then I thought: why not buy the Globe and Mail so that I can finally read Jian's entire article without crashing my computer on the fourth paragraph? Even though I was frankly annoyed by his repetitive views-for-the-sake-of-views which have failed to change even as the situation in Afghanistan has, daily, I walked into the corner store at Donlands and Danforth and picked up the Globe and a pack of cigarettes.
The man behind the counter asked to see my ID, which I showed him, and he asked how old I was. I told him I was twenty-one and he said I looked young. He said when he was twenty he looked young too. He said that was the year he left Afghanistan. As I watched, he started to talk and talk, as though he'd been waiting to say this, somehow.
He told me how it seemed like so long ago. Told me he had relatives now in Pakistan who phoned him and discussed the war with him. Said that for twenty-three years the country of Afghanistan had been a horrible place to live, but that it was during the last six years that it became the worst. Told me he was appalled by the fact that women and children had no rights, no laws to protect them. And said that ultimately he believes, the result of this year's struggle will be good.
I said that it's been a hard fight, both meaning that people have lost their lives, are still losing their lives, and that it's difficult to *know* what the right thing to do is. For everyone. He nodded in agreement and listed off in amazement countries that in the past few decades have witnessed revolutions. The Tzech Republic, Iran, China...
I'm not even sure how our conversation ended, but he asked me to come back again and I said I would. What a strange few minutes, and what a fresh new heart I had after that.
Posted by hKath at 5:32 PM ()
As if to echo that freaky dream I had a few nights ago, my aunt apparently wants to know what I want for Christmas. She wanted to buy me flannel sheets, but that was possibly the worst gift she could have given me, as I live in a building with faulty heating ducts and sleep right across from the boiler room. It's tropical here.
I said "Just don't get me a football", and my mom laughed.
It just occured to me that I might not have written anything here about Saturday night's dream. Actually, I'm sure I haven't, but that doesn't matter.
I had a weirder dream last night. I was getting married. At first it was to a woman, and she was pregnant with my brother's baby, which I thought was really cool. Then she sort of turned to a guy, and we had dinner with my family the day before the wedding.
Haunted by the dream, I sat down this afternoon to watch A Wedding Story and get all the strangeness out. Unfortunately, the people getting married on TV were even bigger freaks than I am. I'm not sure why I should have been surprised by that, but I was.
Anyway, there were getting married in Memphis, along with 74 other couples, right after a Bon Jovi concert and a day at Graceland. I even saw a picture of them both inside what looked like a casket. Spooky.
Posted by hKath at 12:20 AM ()
Sunday, November 25
Well... I'm a little behind on my writing assignments (which isn't one of those understatements I'm fond of making that actually imply I'm about to flunk because I haven't been to class all semester, all it means is that I'm a little behind) and I was wondering if anyone has any fun or cute (or both) writing exercises they could lend me? I won't break them, I swear.
I shouldn't even say I'm a little behind, as I'm actually way ahead of a lot of my friends in that class. The professor's oh-so-relaxed attitude has caused a lot of people to revert to "couldn't come up with anything" mode, which she says is Just Fine. Creepy, eh?
Posted by hKath at 11:28 PM ()
It's been a crappy couple of days. Yesterday I went to McDonalds with my lack of money to profit from their 2 Big Macs for $2 deal. By the way, two Big Macs are way too much. But that's not what this is about.
The guy in front of me had a small girl with him and was getting her a Happy Meal. The people who know me well already know where I'm going with this ;) So the employee behind the counter gave them a choice of two Happy Meal toys: a Barbie doll and a Matchbox car. Of course, he said "I want the girl toy." The clerk (probably because she was in my camp) continued to display both toys, trying to subtly lead him into using better words. And this guy got *mad*! He started nearly yelling "Give me the girl toy!"
Finally the employee behind the counter gave up and threw the Barbie doll onto his tray. It was then I realized he hadn't even asked his daughter, who wasn't tall enough to see above the counter, what she wanted.
I was disgusted!
I'm always disgusted ;)
But honestly, how hard is it to say "Gimme the doll" or "I'll take the car"? Why do they have to stick girl and boy images onto these things? And why does it make that guy so angry when his precious gender ideals are challenged? Is it because he has a perverted notion that it's WRONG to challenge those gender roles that he was brought up with? I hate I hate I hate! GAH!
But then when I sat down to eat, there was a little girl playing incredibly loudly with her toy car, and that was so, so cool. But really, it shouldn't have been that cool. I feel as though we're regressing. I had cars. Most of the girls I know had cars, I'm sure. Why is it such a big deal now for girls to play with "boy toys"?
Oh, and then there was Richard, always Richard. I just picked up my messages from yesterday a little while ago and there was a message from my store, saying Richard had called to find out "where the hell I was". Which is really funny because I was perfectly on time yesterday. He needs to die. As does everyone who calls a Barbie doll a girl toy. You. And you. You all make me want to puke.
Posted by hKath at 7:04 PM ()