Touch You Last

You leave your job and start a band. What do you play? What do you call the band?

Considered yourself warned that this entry will be entirely unfocused. Work has been insane; I feel like a whore on Valentine’s Day. December looks like better times, I think. My NaNoWriMo book has ground to a halt for the time being. I’ve written about three pages in the last two weeks. I will finish it, but it’s looking more like NaNoWri3Mo right now. To my innumerable faithful readers: all apologies. Saw my first Senators game a little while back, which is also the first NHL game I’d even been to. Sarah scored great seats as a birthday present for her Dad, so we were about two rows up from the ice beside the visitors’ bench. The Sens lost (against Carolina ), but it was still a hell of a lot of fun to be there. I’m not a hockey guy, or really a sports guy (or when it comes down to it, any kind of man) but I was totally into the game. I was overwhelmed for the first bit, but after the Sens scored their second goal, I fucking screamed out YEEEAAAH! Then I though, where the hell did ...

If you were to recommend one person's blog to me, whose would it be? And don't pimp mine, and don't pimp yours, and don't start alliances and go pimping each others. Show me something new, people.

My watching this turns out to be kind of timely. Apparently David Cronenberg is working on developing a television series based on his creepy 1988 ‘classic.’ This flick just barely classifies as a Wednesday movie—I wasn’t dying to see it but I was planning on getting to it eventually. But we’ve recently discovered the wonder that is the Ottawa Public Library , and every time I go there to drop something off there’s always something in the return rack that catches my eye. This is how I ended up watching a sort-of thriller about twin gynecologists that would have creeped me out more had I a vagina on my person. Jeremy Irons is Elliot Mantle : suave, handsome, and one of the partners of a highly successful fertility clinic; also, Jeremy Irons is Beverly Mantle: partner two in said clinic, equally handsome, and somewhat smarter but nowhere near as slick as his brother. The two men run a successful business, and when that’s not occupying their time, they also enjoy playing switcheroo. Ell...

I’ve mentioned earlier how I love George Clooney (although not in quite the same way Sarah loves George Clooney). To the reasons I’ve listed before, I’d like to add this: I like where he’s at politically. Clearly the Cloones is a great flaming liberal, but at the same time, he knows he’s an actor. He knows that there’s a time and place to share his political ideologies. This isn’t Richard Gere hijacking the Academy Awards, asking the viewers to beam love, truth and sanity to the opponents of Tibetan independence. The Cloones has subtlety. In 1950, Senator Joe McCarthy began a rabid campaign against communism in the United States, particularly within the civil service. McCarthy preyed upon the public’s fears of the red menace infiltrating and subverting their government, and over the next four years he attacked politicians, artists, intellectuals, and anyone who dared to question his motives or his means. If you’re not with me, you’re against me. When your faith in your government falt...

Are you now--or have you even been--a member of the Communist Party?

We’ll skip over the part where my plane reached Halifax, then got diverted to Fredericton due to weather, then made it back only as far as Moncton where we all had to hop a on a Halifax-bound school bus, because that story is as tedious as the actual experience was. Instead, we start on Sunday morning. Since I o nly arrived at five a.m., and Sarah was up most of that time waiting for me, we sleep in late on Sunday morning. We're at the Four Points Sheraton , and it might just have been the best bed I’ve ever slept in. Quick showers, then we pop across the road to Cabin Coffee which offers a decent e gg mcmuffin rip-off and an ‘all-fruit smoothie’ which sort of tastes like fruit but mostly tastes like big pieces of ice. We’re supposed to meet Pat at noon, and the original plan had been for he and I to bus it back to his place near Kentville that night, but Sarah has the brainstorm that we could probably rent a car for about twenty dollars more, meaning we don’t have to lea...

A few quick updates: Yes, I've neglected this blog. No, I haven't been writing much novel in the meantime. I've finally fixed my 101 in 1001 post, which was all kinds of frigged up for a while there. If you'd like to subscribe to the novel, send me an e-mail or leave me a comment and I'll ship it to chapter-by-chapter as I write it Entries to come: my trip to Halifax and four Wednesday movies (none of which will have been watched or written about on a Wednesday).

How far behind do I have to be to finally give up on this whole NaNoWriMo nonsense? (I'm currently running a 3,500 word deficit.)

As promised in the last Discuss Amongst Yourselves : Here's Katie, Ginny, Sarah, and yours truly, all looking very attractive on our way to White Trash Bash. Bill as Alex. (Still not sure where he got the pants from. Tom Wolfe, maybe?) And me, in my debut porn role as Chest Brockwell. I'll tell you something, I've never been crotch-grabbed so many times as I was this night. Stuff a banana down your pants, you'll make some friends is what I'm saying.

Okay, just a few quick things before I pass out. First, my new profile picture: I couldn't make this face again if I tried. I was playing around with our new camera and thought I'd set the timer. In case you hadn't figured--I thought wrong. So unflattering, yet so awesome. I'd also like to call attention to my sidebar. You'll notice the NaNoWriMo word count. If you're astute, you'll also figure out that I'll never make it at this rate, but let's just keep that between you and me for now. Lastly, as a result of th e contest my presence here might be unpredictable. I'll be around, but not in any reliable way. As an example, I'll be dropping the ball on the Wednesday movie thing tomorrow. It'll get there, but not tomorrow. Oh, and I guess there's one more thing: this contest licks big sweaty balls.