worth mentioning

At work today it was nothing but singles. Lots of either mag (sound) reels or silent colour reels, but very few together in a matching pair. I took this as a small victory, proof that there isn't always a match for everything.

You know what I forgot to mention? And now, weeks later, feel weird about mentioning? I was physically touched in a non-sexual way by Britt Daniel. I swoon for Spoon. (I should consider making shirts or stickers or something for the next time they play here.) As I was trying to get the hell away from the Orpheum after the Spoon show (which was pretty awesome) I was walking across from the tour bus when I saw Britt come out the side door. A couple guys ran to him for autographs, but didn't have a pen, so I ran over and loaned mine to them. Britt signed, graciously, and then held out the pen towards me. I thought he wanted to sign something for me, so I said I didn't have anything to sign, but could we get a picture together? He pocketed the pen and his tour manager or whatever took my camera and took a shaky photo of us. But, if you saw the photo, you would get the point that it was me with Britt Daniel's arm around my shoulder. Dreamy Britt Daniel...

Tonight I'm going to Japandroids at an office space near my house. What I'd really like to do is go to the Cinematheque to see Albert Maysles talk about filmmaking, but not sure I'll have enough time. I could try...

Last night I met up with Cute Neal and Nicola for some Weird Weekends. I'm not sure if I've mentioned it, but I LOVE Louis Theroux. Such a crush on him. And, even though this show is, like, a decade old, it's still good. I prefer watching it with N&N because they introduced me to him and I don't want to have a secret, illicit rendezvous with Louis behind their backs. Last night we got through just one, which was totally fine because we had a fun time around the viewing. Neal was in Nashville a few weeks ago, so I saw pictures that make me want to go there, and Nicola showed me parodies of Shamwow that hurt my stomach so much from laughing that I had to motion for her to pause it so I could breathe. So awesome. Nicola drove me home and we had an hour-long chat in the street because we were having such a good conversation. I reluctantly went inside around 12:40am because of work today, but could have talked for hours longer. I attribute this to the coffee we had at 10pm. I adore them; such fun.

Tomorrow I was hoping to do a Jane's Walk route with John Atkin, but am waitlisted and I can't imagine enough people skipping out to allow me to go. Sigh. Am hoping to meet up with Wee B for a wander around the city somewhere. I thought a Biennale wander would be good, since I've been meaning to take photos (film, even!) of the latest pieces since last fall, but no idea what will happen tomorrow. Also want to see Rachel for ukulele jamming tomorrow night, so hopefully we can get it together either tomorrow or Sunday. I should practice a bit so I don't continue to suck at the uke.

So... things are pretty good. Let's hope that continues. And if it doesn't, I think it might be time to get Dance Dance Revolution so I never have a bad day again.

morning commute

One of the buses I see daily is the bus from 22nd Street Station to somewhere in Richmond, the 420. This morning, gazing at the lineup of obviously non-morning people, I wondered... How many of them were high?

on bitterness

Right, so I'm sitting at home instead of dancing. This disappoints me. Instead of exercising to music in a dress, I am sitting in pyjamas like the loser I apparently am.

I just have to accept that, if I want to do stuff like this, I have to do it alone. If I were more self-assured, I should have just walked over to the Astoria by myself and danced by myself and then walked home alone whenever I had enough. I'm just not that person.

I honestly don't have as many friends as people seem to think. My options for socialising are extremely limited because no one really seems to be into anything I like to do. I am alone 90% of the time. And this is why it's not really a big deal for me to be working stupid amounts because, really, it's not like anything would be any better if I had more free time. I'd just have more time to wish things were different.

Am seriously starting to lose it. Days like today make it really hard to remember why I don't disappear in another city. Not like it would be any different than being here, except I'd have a better excuse for not doing anything.

downswing

Can feel myself slipping into the bitter old woman persona that I've always feared.

There were some twelveteens on the bus today and their ironic Caillou backpacks and pimples made me roll my eyes, for some reason. I've been noticing this more often, my intolerance of young and skinny people. Maybe it's the skinny thing that's bugging me more.

The warming weather is nice and all, but people are wearing less, tighter-fitting clothing. I don't "do" tight. My winter/always paunch is going nowhere fast and I don't see my lifestyle changing to accommodate a lot of exercise time (or any exercise time, really). It's just lucky I've got all this work to give me excuses; it's not like I have any sort of social life to get in the way.

I'm going to a couples party tonight and, even though I like the couples, it is disconcerting being the only single person among them. I mentioned to a bunch of friends who happen to be in couples (because, really, all but three people I know are in couples) that I was interested in going dancing tonight after dinner and all of them said they'd have to see how they, as a couple, felt later tonight. Like, I can't get singular people in a couple to make socialising/weekend plans with me. This makes me bitter. This makes me think I need to overcome my cat allergies so I can start going crazy and hoarding recycling and cats.

cough cough cough cough cough

I wish this coughing would just stop.

Tonight I had plans to meet up with my friend and I spent 30 minutes before he picked me up just doubled over coughing. It reminded me of when I broke ribs coughing when I was sick in Japan for half a year. I don't think anything broke, but I'm tired of these coughing fits. There's nothing wrong with me except for this weird breathing/coughing problem that I've had this time for a week-and-a-half. Crapballs.

My friend and I went to Fatburger; I had a milkshake and onion rings (not impressive at all, I wouldn't get them again) and he had the daily special. We had a good chat about family stuff, as we've got a lot in common as far as aging parents, absent siblings, dealing with parental medical situations alone goes. I always feel better about my own situation when we talk because, while I'm likely going to have to take care of my parents on my own, it's good to know someone is in the same boat.

When I got home today from work, I was excited to see "The Young Girls of Rochefort" in my mailbox. Gene Kelly and Catherine Deneuve together! I can't wait to get the time to watch it. This week I also got "The September Issue" and "Vancouver Special," which requires a bit extra time to synthesize. This weekend is also Record Store Day and I'd really love to pop over to Red Cat and Neptoon for shows, but I have to put in a fair bit of time at work this weekend.

Geez, all that coughing is making me tired. Off to bed.

freeform

Coming in this evening, I watched as a medium-sized Scottish-looking dog ran away at full speed from his person, drunk on freedom. The owner kept snapping his fingers, like that would be enough to wrangle the dog back under his control. Unsurprisingly, the dog was more than a block away when I turned down my driveway.

Today I went to my friend's baby shower, which was fun but tiring. The Bridesmaids organised it, but I couldn't make the initial plenary meeting, so merely helped decorate and to get everything set up. The one bridesmaid totally tried to passive aggressive me into doing my assigned tasks her way. That didn't work, as I instantly do the opposite of what people want me to do in these sorts of instances. I might attempt a quilt for my friend, so based on when the baby is due and my ability to follow through, this baby could see this alleged quilt in, like, 3 years. Awesome.

Last night I went to karaoke for my friend's birthday. I convinced her that a karaoke box would be best because then we can dominate the song selection. She agreed. It was a lot of fun, but my voice is trashed today. I sounded like the fast food worker from the Simpsons for large parts of the day. "Enter Sandman" did it. Up to that point I'd done a stellar rendition of "Always Something There To Remind Me" that scored me 100% and a touching "I Was Made For Loving You." One friend thought I sounded like a CD because I was so awesome. I think she had a couple too many gin & tonics.

Tomorrow is another work day and Spoon at the Orpheum. Will be a full week of work and another show, and maybe some good stuff right at the end of the week. Wish I could sleep past 6am.

it'll never be over for me

I've been listening to a fair bit of soul music lately and it's made me weirdly optimistic. Most of the songs are professions of love, not wanting love to end, regretting when love did end. Men singing their way back into their ladies' hearts. Ladies wishing their men didn't treat them so bad. This is the kind of shit I love.

Apparently I should have been around in the '60s because men seemed to want to get and keep the girl. I could stand to be gotten and kept. (Not in a prostitutey way, though; just in a being wanted way.) When men were a bit more straightforward with their feelings. Like, "girl, I want you and I gotta have you" and "baby, I wish you were mine" and "honey, I want to hold your hand and make you mine forever." (I also appreciate that people dressed for a night on the town, that being out was worthy of effort. But that's a whole other post.)

The only parts that break my heart are when he pleads for her to change her name. Like unofficial proposals, spilling out set to horn sections and backup singers. It almost makes me want to get married and change my name. Sometimes I consider it when riding on the train and the pleading in my ears starts up. But then I remember: there's no one singing these songs to me. There isn't even anyone making mix tapes for me, hoping I'll read between the lines based on the song selection and order.

Cripes, Jackie Wilson was the bomb. Listen to any one of his songs and it will make you long for somebody to sing one of his songs to you.