First Line

As I was sitting in the public transit terminal waiting to take the Seabus from North Van to downtown yesterday I saw a severely handicapped woman in a wheelchair communicating with a woman she was with. The woman in the chair was moving a pointer around with her mouth. There was a computer monitor on her chair where she spelled out messages. The two women were also chatting. When we got off the seabus on the other side I was able to read what the woman in the chair wrote. 'I woke up this morning giggling at the sea.' I am going to use that in the next piece of prose fiction that I write.

I woke up this morning giggling at the sea.


I may have a job doing daily runs to Seattle. Tan may be seeing more of me than she bargained for.

Weird One

I am taking a course through the University of British Columbia. There is an online discussion group related to this course. I have exchanged a few emails with a woman who I made contact with through this discussion forum. We have agreed to meet sometime soon to try and get through some material we are both having problems with in the course. I went out to UBC tonight to attend a lecture related to the course. I was sitting in the lecture hall and got the feeling the woman who I had exchanged a couple of emails with (never met her, never discussed our appearances, don't know thing one about her) was at the lecture tonight. There were over 60 people at the lecture tonight. I scanned the crowd one way, then went back the other way, then my mind went, 'Disco. That's her right there.'
At first break I approached this woman and asked if her name was -enter name-. She said it was and had we met before? I said we had never met but we had exchanged a few emails about the possibility of studying together. She asked how I knew who she was. I said I wasn't sure how I knew. Lucky guess. We're meeting on Thursday night. I swear on my brother's life this happened this evening.

I have been given my first writing assignment for a pretty good online magazine based in Vancouver. If the editor likes what he reads I may do some formal, published writing for them. I discussed how access to things like fashion shows works. He explained that the writers get media passes. That'd be funny. I end up feeling very Zoolander reviewing some new fashion line I saw at a show somewhere. There is the small matter of what the hell I would ever wear to one of these events. I'll have to ask my new friend from the lecture tonight to come shopping with me and pick out some clothes if this ever actually did come to pass.

Cranes in North Van

Working Girl

I have become aware that someone I once knew is considering becoming an escort for a living. I was falling in love with this woman at one point. File that under 'Oh Well'.

Chainsaw Pete

I have had rejection letters from some of the best literary agents in Canada. I may skip them in the publishing process and go straight to the publishers.


Someone has left a chocolate bar wrapper on the table where I sit smoking. “Heathens,” I say and pick it up. I notice a 1-800 number on the back of the wrapper for people who may need help. A smile dances across my mind. I have a silly idea. “You want to have a little fun with me, boys?” I ask.
Francis and a guy named Noah, long story on that one, follow me to the ward phone just outside the smoking room. Noah is an odd one. He's in his mid-fourties, a computer systems engineer for a local university. Except he's manic depressive, too. Right now he's down. They're tweaking his brain chemistry in here so he can go back and high function again at his life. His black curly hair reminds me of my father sometimes.
“What are you going to do?” Noah asks.
“I'm going to pretend a little bit here on the phone,” I say. I dial the 1-800 helpline number on the chocolate bar wrapper.
“Will we get pussy from this?” Noah wants to know. Noah is also a virgin, his whole life. I don't even bother to answer him.
The phone rings on the other end. After the second ring I hear a woman's voice with a southern U.S. accent go, “Helpline. How may I be of assistance?”
I try to make my voice sound like a sick kid. “Hello?” I say.
“Hi, Sugar. What can I do for you?” she asks, definitely from the South.
“I, see, I kind of ate, one of your bars,” I say. “And now my stomach ain't so good.” Francis has caught on and starts laughing.
“Is someone else there with you, child?” she asks. “Can they be of assistance.”
I wave to Francis to keep it down, impatient. “No. I'm all alone,” I lie. “That was the TV you heard. Ooooooh God, I ain't too good.”
“You hang on there, Honey. We'll get you some help right away,” the woman from the South says. She sounds awful desperate all of a sudden. Maybe this isn't so funny. I have a guilt panic. I hang up.
“Aw, why'd you hang up? That was the best,” Francis says. Noah just stands there staring at the phone. When the phone rings Noah jumps a bit. It rings again. We three look at each other. Francis shrugs his shoulders.
I pick up. “Hello,” I say. I forget the sick kid voice.
“Boy, if you in a hospital already, why in hell you calling me for?” Southern Woman asks. She sounds more than a little pissed. I have no clue what to say. This isn't as funny anymore.
“I'm feeling much better. Thanks for your time,” I say. Francis and I shrug at each other. He tries to lean in to the receiver and hear what she is saying.
“Young man, listen to me for a moment. This is serious,” she says. “We get some very sick people calling this line looking for help. You understand? Potential suicides, ODs, people being abused who don't know where else to turn,” she says. “Now if you tie up this line, maybe one of them who really need our help can't get through to us. You follow?” she asks.
“Yeah. Again, thanks for your help,” I say.
“Call if you need us. Have a nice day,” she says. The line goes dead.
I hang up my end. Noah wanders off towards the meds counter. Francis stares. “Smooth move, Ex Lax,” he says.
“And you could've done better? She made me feel like shit. That line is for really sick people,” I say. This is starting to affect me. Francis walks into the smoking room without saying a word. I notice that this is how a lot of my conversations on the ward seem to end. One of the parties often just walks away.
Today is the day I get back in shape. That's it, that's all. I get a mental image of me playing high school football. Quite the all-star. The hospital ward has exercise facilities. I decide to hit the stationary bike. Precisely 8.42 minutes later I'm seeing stars from the exertion. It's been a while.
I return to the smoking room for my after workout aperitif. I just light up when a bit of an episode starts to brew. Francis is getting a visit from his girlfriend. As mentioned, these two are pretty intimate with each other sometimes. Even I have felt a little off put by it. I watch Francis and his girlfriend, never did catch her name, give each other a bit of a smooch, right there in the smoking room. Amy, from the dining hall fame, goes completely loopty-loo at the site of this.
“It's like a fucking dating service in here! It's like a fucking dating service in here!” Amy yells. Hefty Bags Harry is on her like white on rice. Harry gently guides her out of the room to the nursing station. I kind of follow them out, to see the commotion. A nurse gives Amy a big orange pill and she's right as rain just a few seconds later.
This gives me an idea. I wait a few minutes, then I walk up to Hefty Bags. I wring my hands and fake twitch my eyes open and shut. “Hey, Hairy Arse,” I say to Harry. He knows me by now.
“What's the problem?” he asks.
I twitch it up a bit. “I'm feeling a little ANXIOUS,” I say. “Maybe you give me something to kind of take the edge off?”
Harry looks me up and down. A smile, an actual full-fledged smile, breaks across his face. “Go to the nurses station and say what you just said to me,” Harry advises. “And Pete, don't overdo it. If I saw through it, they'll see you coming a mile away.”
The next thing I know I'm up on a chair in the smoking room, swinging like I just don't care. Our little smoking room radio is cranked up. Some catchy song plays. I dance like it's the second coming. Harry and a nurse are watching, laughing, from the doorway. “DANCE YA BASTARDS!” I yell. I really yelled it, too.
Harry is looking up at me for a change. “OK, Twinkle-toes. That's enough. Down you come,” he says. Harry puts his hands under each of my armpits and fixes to lift me down like a child.
“NOT NOW, JETHRO! CAN'T YOU SEE I'M ROCKIN'?” I think I'm yelling again. I know I'm dancing on a chair.
I walk down the hall towards my room. Harry is walking me to my room, is what the relationship comes down to. “You guys have great shit in this hospital, man,” I say.
“I may have to stay with you for a bit,” Harry says.
“We can maintain the buffoonish facade of a friendship,” I say. That'd be nice. Harry just keeps walking me.

Musical Notes

A few posts back I put the words to a song I wrote called 'Tofino Kiss'. A musician friend of mine, who the song was about, is currently recording it in a studio. She is giving me credit for the lyrics on the CD. And half the royalty rights to it. I have no doubts whatsoever that this woman will eventually acheive commercial success musically. I'll be walking by some muffler shop or something and hear, 'Don't know how to let go, But I'm tryin'. Go Roz go.
On the soundtrack of the movie Babel is a song called September - The Joker. It plays in the scene where the Japanese girl goes to the Tokyo club on E. VERY catchy tune. I'm on this Madonna remix kick lately. 'You give me FEVER. What a lovely way to burn.' Don't tell anyone.

Vancouver Photos

Wanderlust

I'm, getting, the, itch, again...

http://www.pology.com/

Come with me.

Tutoring ESL

I tutor a few ESL students a week as well as my other stuff. The guy tonight is a 17 year old from Korea. We were talking about favourites. Favourite animal, favourite sport, favrourite car. When I asked him his favourite smell he answers, 'Girls.'
We then moved on to dreams. I asked if he could remember any of his recent dreams. He told me about a recent dream where he morphed into a pig that was running around a track in a pig race with a bunch of other pigs. He fell and rolled, in pig form, so didn't win the race. That boy's on dope. He's funny as hell.

Test Results In

Just left a doctor's office after getting test results back for some tests I had done. We're golden. Phew.

An F1 Prayer

'Dear Lord Baby Jesus, thank you for allowing Kimi to take his first race wearing the coveted reds. And Dear Lord Baby Jesus if Kimi wins a whole bunch more Grand Prix races this season I promise to ...' blah, blah You have to have seen a certain Will Farrell racing movie to see where that was going.

-------------------
Tan has suggested (and I have obeyed) that she sprinkle my resume amongst her network in Seattle and see what grows. That'd be funny. After all the anti-American sentiment I have expressed of late, I end up living and working in Seattle.

More Photos

First photo is Ally and I in a peddle boat shaped like a swan on a lake in Korea. Other photo is downtown Vancouver yesterday.

Testing, testing

In light of what I observed at my last place of employment (good name for a musical group, 'The Puss Drippers') I went to a clinic to get tested for a wide variety of things. If anything comes back positive I will face the loverly task of calling Tan and informing her, as it is a chargeable offense to knowlingly transmit anything to another person. Fingers crossed on the results.

Tan informs me that a trip to Indonesia in future to visit her family may be a possibility and since she is familiar with Bali we would check that out as well. If the trip does happen I would have to indulge in the surfer fantasy while down there. Acute hydrophobia be damned. We were standing on a dock right by the ocean last weekend and I joked with her that there was a huge dorsel fin coming right for us in the water. She jokingly tried to push me in the water until I explained to her my relationship with sea water.

Oh, the joys...

Title: Chicken catcher (NOC: 8431)
Terms of Employment: Permanent, Full Time, Day, Night
Salary: $10.50 to $12.00 Hourly for 44 hours per week, Other Benefits
Anticipated Start Date: 2007/04/15
Location: Lower Mainland/ Frasier River, British Columbia (20 vacancies )
Skill Requirements:
Education: Not required
Credentials (certificates, licences, memberships, courses, etc.): Not required
Experience: No experience
Languages: Not applicable, Not required
Type of Farm Operations: Poultry and egg production
Work Conditions and Physical Capabilities: Fast-paced environment, Repetitive tasks, Physically demanding, Hand-eye co-ordination, Walking, Bending, crouching, kneeling
Transportation/Travel Information: Willing to travel regularly, Willing to travel overnight, Travel expenses paid by employer
Work Site Environment: Noisy, Odours, Dusty, Hot
Work Location Information: Rural community, Remote location, Various locations
Essential Skills: Oral communication, Working with others

Amigo Finds Out

'Ever seen one?'
'What?'
'A demon.'
I ponder. 'Not when I had a clear head.'
'So, before?'
'Oh, all kinds of things went on back then.'
'But for real? Ever see one for real?'
'Amigo, I would give my left nut to have a genuine supernatural experience. See an alien spaceship. A vampire flashes her fangs at me on the bus. Anything. I am soooo into all that stuff and I get nothing that way. Never have. Then you get the non-believers and they get stoves coming on by themselves, chairs spinning around the middle of the room, all kinds of things.'
Amigo considers. 'Me neither. How's the Mandarin coming?'
I laugh. 'I sound like two ducks fucking but I'm getting it.'
'Why are you learning it?'
'Tan. Well, her parents.'
'They're Chinese?'
'No, they're Lithuanian. That's why I'm learning Chinese.'
'You're a funny fuckin guy, Pete. Funny, fuckin, guy. We should put you in a cage and sell tickets.'
I laugh. 'I want to be able to converse with her parents in their first language when we meet. Indonesia is fascinating.'
'Do tell.'
'Muslim country with a large Chinese population. The Chinese tend to be wealthier. So there's a resentment towards them from the Muslim population.'
'Pissed off Muslims. There's a stretch.'
I put down my Cola. 'If I had soldiers occupying my country I'd be plenty pissed too.'
'True.'
I pretend to remember. 'There have been a few things go on over the years, though.'
'I don't follow.'
'We were talking about demons. There's been a couple of things that were strange.'
Amigo sits up. 'Let's hear it.'
'Like, there's this one time. I'm standing at the first urinal in a row of about five of them. I'm taking a squirt when I sense this strong presence to my right. And then the urinals start to flush on their own. You know how they do that?'
'It's automated.'
'Probably. So they start at the far end and I can feel the presence coming towards me and the heat/motion sensitive urinals go off one by one, coming in my direction with the presence.'
'Did yours go off?'
'My what?'
'Your urinal. Did it flush?'
'Nope. And then the weirdest thing happens.'
'What?'
'I hear in the washroom, in the worst British accent, a guy says, 'Give us a kiss, Governor.''
Amigo just looks at me. I can't control myself and start to laugh.
'Fucker.'
'I had you!'
'Yeah, you did.'
'There's the rub of it. Anything that has ever happened to me had an explanation.'
'Except on the train this morning.'
I smile evil. 'Shelly was one of my students. We've hung out outside of class.'
Amigo understands. 'Fucker! The bet's off!'
I laugh. 'The one right beside us was Kazumi or Koizumi or something. She's in the same class as Shelly.'
'Why'd Shelly blush?'
'Because she has a boyfriend and she never thought she'd see me again. She pretended to be formal with me for Kazumi's sake, so she wouldn't get any ideas about us having spent time together.'
'You're paying for lunch!'
'We'll go fifty-fifty.'
'What about the porno?'
'In the shape I'm in right now? I'd have to pay them.'
'What about Tan? Is that all bullshit, too?'
'No. Swear on my eyesight. That part's all true. I'm just having fun with dialogue, Amigo. Honing my craft. I do it all the time with people.'
'I'll keep that in mind. Joe thespian.'
'Joe writer.'


The End

(I did spend the day today with Tan, in the world outside of Blog fiction. wo hen hao, xie xie)

Back at the Mexican restaurant...

'Hottest music video ever?'
'Easy. Chris Isaac. Wicked game.'
'Never heard of it.'
'Really old. They're rolling around on a beach somewhere. NOBODY is as hot as those two in that shoot.'
'Most beautiful person?'
'Man or woman?'
'O...K... Man.'
'Muhammad Ali.'
'Really?'
'Most beautiful man who ever lived.'
'What about woman?'
'Mother Theresa.'
'The holy one?'
'That's her.'
'Not seeing it.'
'Not fuckable beautiful. Beautiful.'
'Oh.'
'She fought demons the last few weeks of her life.'
'Real ones?'
'I would assume, yeah.'
'Weird.'
'To say the least.'
'She must have had caregivers? Near the end?'
'Probably some of the best in the world.'
'Imagine being in the room with that going on?'
'Pretty scary.'
'I'd run for the hills.'
'Don't think that's an option. It comes down to strenght of will, as I see it.'
'Gig: Me Versus The Devil.'
I laugh. 'But for real.'
'I'll try that 'iku, iku' line.'
'Works every time.'

My First Commercial

Had a lot of fun on the commercial shoot today. It was in a hockey rink, very Canadian. The guys were skating around with the camera equipment. Besides the regular background stuff I was chosen with this woman to walk behind the two main people in the ad for one shot. And again, and again, and again. Funny feeling to pretend to be talking to someone but not actually say anything over and over again. Kinda like marriage I guess.

The Mandarin lessons are coming along:

Ni ho lang = you are beautiful - it's suggestive so don't say it if someone may be feeling possessive towards whoever you're talking to

Ni feng lema? = are you crazy?

xie xie = thank you

nihao = hello

shi = yes

bushi = no

zaijian = goodbye

nihao ma = how are you?

wo hen hao, xie xie = I am very good, thank you.

Mandarin is tonal, thank Christ. It can sound a little cacophonous until your ear picks up the lilt of it.
Zaijian!

Roppongi Mellow

I regard the photo in this post as the best one I took in Japan. It was taken in an area of Tokyo called Roppongi. About the only place in Japan where you can get a whiff of second hand pot smoke on a regular basis. I may be back there shortly.
Gotta love Vancouver. I walk into an agency yesterday and get sent out on a commercial shoot tomorrow. I plan to storm off the set due to artistic differences with the director. A little n n nervous, to tell you the truth. Can't believe your agent gets 15% of your earnings. Seems a little steep.
Tan made me insist tonight that if things don't work out between us that we'll still be ski buddies. 'Yes Dear.'
The screenplay I am working on which is set in Japan is coming along famously. Worked on it for two hours with young Satomi tonight. She confided to me that she 'purges' on a regular basis due to weight concerns. She sticks her finger down her throat and makes herself puke after she eats.
Entertainment suggestions: Song of the week is 'Go It Alone' by Beck. Funniest thing I've seen in a long time is 'Kenny Rogers Jackass, Part 1'. Limewire or Isohunt it or whatever you use. I end up rolling around laughing every time I watch that.

'500 Bucks Is 500 Bucks'

Cont'd from '50 Bucks Is 50 Bucks'...

'Fire a fork across the room or something.'
'Could we not, with the paranormal requests?'
'Oh, so you show me what you did on the train and I'm not supposed to get excited?'
I sigh. 'I have to be in the mood.'
'Give me one more little show and I won't ask you again.'
I look around the Mexican restaurant. Two waitresses talk together as they roll cutlery into napkins way across the room.
'You see those two over there?'
Amigo looks. 'You going to make them strip?'
'BOring. No. I'm going to tell you what they're saying.'
Amigo listens. 'There's no way.'
'You doubt? Fifty bucks?'
'No. I'll never bet you again. Just show me.'
I send out energy towards the waitresses.
'Gay and doesn't know it.'
They both look towards Amigo and me.
'Which one?
'On the right.'
'Fuck him before he figures it out. He's hoooooot.'
'He's huge. Look at those hands.'
I sigh and snap the connection.
'They were commenting on how attractive the Jewish guy sitting with me is.'
Amigo laughs. 'Another Jewish comment?'
'I'm sorry, Amigo. I'm sorry for calling you a Jew. You're not a Jew.'
'Yes I am. I am a Jew.'
'No you're not. Sorry.'
'I am...' Amigo laughs loudly. 'Where's that from again?'
'SouthPark. Funny as hell.'
'What were the waitresses saying?'
'They were commenting on how attractive they found you.'
'Really?'
'Wanna bet?'
'Right. So what are you going to do now?'
'I'm going to try driving big ass trucks. Ride all over with a baseball bat and a REPUTATION.'
Amigo laughs.
'How'd it go with Han?'
'Tan.'
'Tan.'
'She's wonderfully complex.'
Amigo is interested. 'Details.'
'Her parents are both Chinese. She was born in Indonesia. She lives just outside Seattle. Near Microsoft. Currently holds American citizenship. Speaks four languages fluently.'
'Shut UP.'
'She wants to try and start a family. Grow with someone.'
'Did you mind melt that stuff out of her?'
'No, no. I would never. That would be like cheating at football or something. No fair. I got what I told you of her from our time together.'
'Where'd you meet again?'
'We met on a chairlift up at Cypress.'
'Good story.'
'I hope to tell the grandkids one day. She's kind of got a hold of me. And she knows it.'
Our waitress arrives. We order Tacos and Cola.
'What about you?'
'I'm meeting a woman named Satomi for lunch tomorrow.'
'Nice!'
'Could you...'
'What? Tag along and tell you what she's thinking?'
'No, no. But, any suggestions?'
'Ummmmmmm. OK. Once you know her a bit, tell her you've had one Japanese girlfriend before. Just one and just for a short time. Then ask her what 'iku, iku' means.'
'What does it mean?'
'I'm cumming.'
Amigo processes. Then laughs too loud.
'You said that?!'
'Last time I dated a woman from Japan I did.'
'What happened?'
'Few hours later I'm fumbling around looking for my leopard skin thong to put back on.'
'Jesus. There's an image I need with Tacos on the way.'
'Speaking of which, I'm into serious 'butts a wigglin' territory with the weight. I jiggle when I walk sometimes.'
Amigo laughs again. 'You're just used to being bone rack thin.'
'It doesn't feel right having this weight on me. I feel a little off all day. I want my abs back.'
'Back to my date tomorrow. Are they that way? Japanese girls?'
'There's no generic to apply here.'
'But in general?'
'You're hoping I say yes so you think you have a shot. You can't generalize. I will say that Japanese women have the nickname 'Yellow Cab Girls'.'
'Why?'
'If you know some of the subtleties of the culture it doesn't take much and you're in a yellow cab to a hotel with them, is the reputation.'
'Shut UP.
'You're saying that too much.'
'What about Chinese girls? Han?'
'Tan.'
'Tan.'
'You're asking me to generalize on a billion and a half people.'
Amigo sits and ponders. 'Right.'
'Right. Got a joke for you.'
'Shoot.'
'Why do Chinese girls wear a tampon when they skydive?'
'Kind of, eating, here.'
'C'mon. Why?'
'Why?'
'So they don't whistle on the WAY DOWN!'
I slap one knee for effect. Amigo spits his Cola out his mouth he's laughing so hard. The waitress comes over with napkins. As soon as she leaves...
'I made a porno in a Tokyo hotel one night.'
Amigo puts down his Taco and stares at me.
'Shut...'
'Don't.'
'Fuck OFF.'
'I did.'
'Are you trying to kill me with all this stuff today?'
'I speak the truth. It's online. I saw it.'
'How much did you make?'
'Five hundred bucks.'
'Five hundred bucks is five hundred bucks.'
'You read my mind.'
'Does Tan know?'
'Funny first response, Amigo. She probably sees everything going on on my computer. She's a tech at Microsoft.'
'So you and her haven't?'
'She's being delightfully coquettish.'
'And you like that?'
'It's a nice change, to be honest.'
'It's never boring with you, Pete. Never. Fucking. Boring.'
Amigo eats again.
'How do you end up making a porno in Tokyo?'
'You'll have to buy my book to hear that story.'
'Oh, yeah. Any leads on that?'
'Still trying. It'll kick. Matter of time.'

My Family

I am scanning a huge number of photos that were amongst my father's belongings when he passed. I am listening to Nirvana and Beck as I scan and ponder my history and my family. It is kind of a surreal way to spend an evening. I don't really know who the women in the first and third photos were. I think they were my great aunts. They sure were pretty. The group photo is my aunts and uncles. I recognize them. My father is the second man in from the right side.

'Fifty Bucks Is Fifty Bucks'

'How was driving school this morning?'
'The instructor was gay.'
Amigo laughs.
I glare and stare.
'If I said he was a Jew would you laugh?'
'Sorry.'
'Tiny steps.'
'So, did you pass?'
'I did. First time I ever sat in a truck that size.'
'What's next?'
'I buy a pet orangutan and hit the open road.'
Amigo laughs again.
I feel like having a bit of fun here on the skytrain this afternoon with my friend Amigo.
'You see this woman sitting to my right?'
Amigo looks. 'The Chinese one?'
'She's Japanese.'
'How do you know?'
'I just do.'
'What about her?'
'I bet you fifty bucks I can make her blush, find out her English name, and learn one of her secrets without saying one word to her.'
'You're nuts.'
'So bet the lunatic fifty bucks.'
'You know her.'
'I've never seen her before.'
'What the fuck are you talking about? Mind melt type stuff?'
'It's just this thing I do sometimes. Fifty bucks?'
'You're on. But not with that one. You could know her.'
'Pick someone else then. Not a male.'
'Why not male?'
'They sometimes don't react well to what I'm about to do.'
'What ARE you about to do?'
'Get to know someone a little bit. Hurry up and pick one. Fifty bucks.'
Amigo looks around.
'Four seats up on the right. Black hair.'
'This may take a while.'
'You think?'
'What I'm about to do involves synaptic activity in the frontal lobe. When I went apeshit way back from too much THC my frontal lobe was thrown out of whack.'
'I'm all aflutter with anticipation.'
'I just flew cross country. When we fly long distances our frontal lobe physically shrinks. They've measured it. I don't, quite, have all my energy for this right now.'
'Show me.'
I send out my first burst of mental energy to my new friend on the train. I'm not full strength but it is enough. I start to feel her.
'She's Korean.'
'We'll see.'
'Watch her face.'
I send strong signals of sexual activity and sensations that my new friend may not have been previously aware of. She looks right at me. Her eyes go a bit wide. She looks away as her face turns really red.
'Holy shit she's blushing.'
'Told ya. Shush. Need to concentrate. I'm still tired from my trip.'
I push my energy her way again. She blocks me off momentarily, then opens to me completely.
'I'm in.'
I see rice paddies, then the Seoul skyline at night, then a birthday in a kitchen in Korea.
'She's lonely for home.'
A college classroom, then green Soju bottles, her gorgeous Korean lover in a dark blue winter coat. They kiss under a big tree on a sunny afternoon. He hands her a ring. She cries. He is getting onto the back of a military truck to go off for his mandatory military service. She is delicious and a little sad. Good people. I snap the connection. Enough. She continues to look my way. I don't make eye contact.
'So?'
'English name is Shelly. Korean. Here to study English for a year. Lover in the army. Fifty bucks.'
'Prove it.'
I squeeze past Amigo out of my seat and approach my new friend.
'Anya.'
'Oh. Hello.'
'Tae Hamingo?'
'Ah, yes. I am Korean.'
'Boyfriend in army?'
'Yes. Six more month. Then he come here.'
'Thanks.'
I squeeze past Amigo again back into my seat. Our new Korean friend looks out her window.
'Fucking 'Fire Starter' over here.'
'Fifty bucks is fifty bucks.'
Silence.
Korean Shelly gets off at her stop.
'So...'
'You have a pretty good life. Two kids. You change jobs in about a year.'
Silence.
'What about you?'
'Thank Heaven for small miracles. I can never see any aspect of my own circumstances. Just other people when I turn it on.'
'Huh.'
'You feel like Mexican for lunch?'
'Sounds good. This is us.'
'You're buying.'

Grandpa Meehan

I am in the process of scanning a bunch of photos I brought back from home. Plan to send out CD's of the photos to the Meehan side of my family when I'm done. Charmer in this photo is my paternal grandfather.

Funny Dialogue

Some funny exchanges from my trip home (it's all fodder for fiction):

'Ho! They let you out?!'
Me: 'Did you get a free bowl of soup with that shirt?'
'You're STILL dangerous.'
Me: 'How's the better half?' I motion like I'm pushing something towards my crotch a few times. 'Strongest neck in showbiz, from what I hear.'

Speaking of showbiz, I have my first EXTRA work on a film set next Wednesday.

So the guy at Ottawa airport security says to me as he's cotton swabbing my carry on bag, 'Eef we find trace explosive elements, Monsieur, you start to ave a very bad day.'
Funny line.

I haven't mentioned that my last job went tits up. 'You might say I have a collection of name tags.'

My Little Episode In Calgary

About 20 minutes outside of Calgary on my flight from Ottawa through Calgary to Vancouver the pilot comes on and informs us that due to a storm we have to circle the airport for a bit to give them time to clear a runway. Soon after this announcement I can start to hear these weird tuck tuck, tack tack tack sounds as the plane flies through what sounds like hail. The turbulence starts right at the same moment as we start banking radically and flying through the hail. We bank, and bank, and bank some more with the strange tick tick, tuck tack sounds of ice hitting the plane as we fly through it and the turbulence picking up.
The pilot then proceeds to take the back wheels down harder and louder than I have ever heard in my life. One woman yelled out from the shock of it. Once we come to a bumpy stop I am facing the prospect of taking off on a snowy icey runway, flying through a hail storm over the rockies then landing with this same pilot in Vancouver.
Fuck that and fuck this. I got off the plane in Calgary and told them to get my baggage out from underneath the aircraft. Once my bags were off the plane and in my possession I had exactly 25 minutes to get to the bus station to catch the last overnight Greyhound to Vancouver from Calgary. The drive is normally about 30 minutes and it was haling in Calgary at the time. I decided to go for it anyway. With the Mission Impossible theme song in my head I sprinted through the airport, bags in tow, did my best Jack Black guitar solo slide to a stop in front of a cab and we were off. Actually, I just burst out the airport doors and offered the first cab I saw a $10 tip if he could get me to the bus station in 15 minutes. We slip slided across greater Calgary to the downtown core where I then went running into the bus station and was able to catch the night bus to good old Van. ON TERRA FIRMA!
The view on that drive through the rockies is unreal.