clearbluecup

A list of the media I'm currently mad for:

1. VALIS - Philip K. Dick. I read the first paragraph and found my latest favorite author. Anyone who can pull off simultaneous 1st and 3rd person perspective for a character named Horselover Fat has got me. Extra Bonus Points: Prove the existence of God via dead cats and mental illness on pg.39. Super Extra Bonus Points: "Horselover Fat" translates into Philip Dick from foreign languages.

2. Tosca Tango Orchestra - Soundtrack for Waking Life. Listening to this on the bus makes me feel like I'm living inside my favorite film. This is a good thing because the film makes me feel like anything is possible in life if you open your eyes and wake up to the reality that you are really in control of your behaviour and not in control of the cosmic workings of the universe.

3. Velvet Underground - Banana. Gritty heroin-addict Andy Warhol rock.

4. Buena Vista Social Club - Soundtrack. I like it. That is all.

Just got back from a weekend in Derry where I visited with Elicia, met her daughter Ania, went shopping, met Oliver's family and was the godmother at Ania's christening. I had a great time, although I am definitely running at half (or one-third) speed today. These Irish really know how to throw a good party…

My first impression was made by Ania, who is the Cutest Baby in the World. I know everyone says that about their babies, but Ania really is SuperCute. I tried to take her photo but she's hard to catch, so you all might have to wait until I get a chance to scan some photos Elicia took before you can really appreciate her cuteness. She's just learning to talk as well, and is constantly coming up with really intelligent sounding social gibberish.

I also had a great time hanging out with Oliver's sisters. Half their family lives on the same street, and they are incredibly close-knit. And the stories they can tell! It was quite an eye-opening experience to stay in Northern Ireland for a few days. While I was there one of the family's cars was broken into and torched. And everyone else had their own break-in/vandalism story - one of the sisters actually had a pipe bomb thrown in her downstairs window while the family was asleep. This was a couple of years ago, but still. As far as I could tell the only motivation for this crime was the fact that they are catholics living on the protestant side of the river.

And the accent! once I got the hang of listening to it I found it very cool, especially the way they pronounce "baby" like be-be. And the priest standing at the front of the incredibly ornate church talking about God entering all these love-ly be-bes. Ania actually learned the word be-be while she's been visiting her family! Such lovely amazing self-referential be-bes. It's incredible.

dance dance dance

ps - link thanks to alison

Reflections on Edmonton:

ohmygod look at the size of the roads/trucks/shops/ikea/river valley

MEC mecca!

rampant modern minimalism

in summary: it feels like a shoe I haven't worn in a long time but that still holds the imprint of my foot.

I'm glad to be home. The canadian flag against the backdrop of the north shore mountains when we touched down in Vancouver nearly brought me to tears.

In the soft evening twilight, I reach out for the freshly-boiled kettle and pour myself a mug of lady grey tea. After the Longest-Journey-Ever, there is not much more comforting than a nice cup of tea. I left hotel havoc on wednesday morning at 7:45am and walked into my house in cork at 9:30pm thursday evening. blink blink. where did those two days of my life dissapear to?? there is something very disconcerting about 8 hours of my life dissapearing into the cross-atlantic time void. but all things considered, I feel great.

I switch on the immersion, put a pot of pasta on to boil. shuffle through the mail, greet the houseplants, marvel at the clean house (thanks tom, you're the best!), make a list of groceries and chores for tomorrow. The house is quiet and I pat around in my sock feet like a cat. I pull a clean towel out of the cupboard and smell the smell of my house. It is getting dark outside.

I shower, put on pyjamas. I surf for a little while, but I'm not used to it and I start to get very sleepy. that's probably a good thing. I will write about my holiday tomorrow, maybe right after I mow the lawn.

One of the things I had been really looking forward to doing when I was on holiday in Canada was to eat Kraft Dinner. Many fond memories of the plastic orange noodles had places of honour in my memory; after all, I practically survived on Kraft Dinner at the height of my wild days in University. It's crazy, it's so cheezy! So CHEEZY!!

I couldn't wait.

At the grocery store, we went in looking for cheap camping supplies, firelighters, easy non-perishables and snacks. As we entered, a 6'x4' display of classic Kraft Dinner appeared on our right. I scooped three boxes and grinned.

By this point in the holiday I had gotten over the initial shockwave of unfamiliar familiarity, and had spent a good two days driving across the prairie and back into the mountains. Some things, like the extended prarie vistas, the shifting clouds and transient thunderstorms, had been much more enjoyable that I expected. I was on a roll of positivity, and ready to make every experience a fantastic one.

So, after I'd mixed in the cheezy powder (was it always such a violent shade of orange?) and stirred in all the powdery lumps, I was ready for all the cheezy satisfaction that Kraft Dinner had to give.

First bite: mmm, plasticky.

Second bite: mmm, strange aftertaste.

Third bite: where's the ketchup?

By the time I was washing up the lunch dishes, I was much more enthralled by the naturally bubbling mineral spring that provided the water than I was by the orange noodles I'd been looking forward to.

Some things, however, were just as good (or better) than I'd remembered them to be. Like MEC! We went in looking for hiking shoes and sleeping mats the morning before we left for Regina/Camping, and came out with heaps of stuff and great big smiles. The selection! The service! The quality! And the hospitality of our hosts, family and friends. There is nothing in the world as good as mom's home baking. Although New Asian Village takeaway and Grasshopper is a close second. And Katalyst Events, who managed to pull whatever strings were required to ensure Astral Projection arrived at the party despite being three hours late. After having resigned myself to yet another party with a missing headliner, the silly grin couldn't be wiped off my face when they started playing the sunrise set.

Now that I'm back in cork, pottering about the house by myself and trying to be self-motivated, I feel the pain of absence again. It's not as strong as when I first arrived in Ireland - but eating dinner by myself reminds me that my family is a long way away, and I could do with a few more friends here. But at the same time, this place is starting to feel comfortable and familiar too. It just takes time before anything feels like a favorite old shoe that knows all the contours of your particular foot. And a lot of walking, dancing, running, hiking...

I know most of my canuck readers will already be well familiar with Trogdor, but just in case you're not... (or you want to watch it *just one more time*)

Trogdor the Burninator