So we're all waiting out the end of summer like some sort of doomday countdown that's vaguely tinged with eagerness to get back to the social net of school, when kablooie, Godzilla visits Wellington St. and tears up the National Library Archives, knocking of Roch Carrier's coffee mug in the process.

That's probably the closest I've come to writing all summer. Except for that two bit - unfinished - one and a half acted play. About a towel. And a female lead. Yea, that's the one.

I think I've been inspired by a lot of things lately and will need to do something with all that pent up inspiration. I've got it! We can all go a concert, get dead inebriated and then pass out over some toilets! See you at the (hard) liquor counter folks.

Unveiling our bitmap du jour:
That's right.
But these are lies. For example: in the last two days, I've been passed out for a minimum of 4 hours in front of the TV watching endless recasts of Perdita Felicien and Kyle Shewfelt. In my spare time, I've also had the opportunity to make my tutoring student cry, sleep and think about staying put for an extra (edit: year). Luckily my mom talked me out of that. Instead, I will be dropping tech except for non rehearsal required purposes and possibly sim? Bye-bye counting leopard frogs.

In terms of inspirational uptalk: From around people who are angry but are willing to do stuff about it, it sure beat listless disgust. Start a vitriolic zine, fire off contemptuous letters to the editors. Get a soapbox if you prefer the song and dance. Please don't get defeated before you've even begun. Or thirty. Or both. And if European outlook is what you're after, look far enough East and it goes back to Vancouver. And then the back of your own head.

That's enough for one day. I'll catch y'all hound dogs on the next motivational speakers' trail.

The real world is quite discerning. The acres of concrete and sudden onslaughter of car noise. Even people noise. Waiting for the bus, I kept on expecting to see people I recognized and to say 'hi, who was that workshop?' All those stemming from the (debilitating?) effects of small worlds, not many people and isolation from the larger society. In other ways, I'm sprouting new aged jargon about empowerment...change...communication and community. The desire for hermitry and troglodytephilia is all but gone, but somewhat saddens me because they were parts of myself I had really enjoyed embracing. And with the descend into complete paradigm shift, I feel my objectivity slipping away, another issue of concern. The image of myself as a rabid environmentalist isn't exactly appealing. Would I give up science for a better tagline into propaganda?

Have talked to parents about converting into the cult of vegetarianism. They seem supportive. Especially my mom as her lack of gallbladder made eating meat difficult for her in the first place. And with the influx of new recipes from my endeavour her meal planning should be easier.

I drew a picture today. Guess what it refers to.

Then after that I read some music. Quotes set to go before retiring to Rapid Eye Movement:

"That's great, it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes,
an aeroplane and Lenny Bruce is not afraid.
Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn -
world serves its own needs, dummy serve your own needs.
Feed it off an aux speak, grunt no, strength,
ladder starts to clatter with fear fight down height.
Wire in a fire, representing seven games,
a government for hire and a combat site.
Left of west and coming in a hurry
with the Furies breathing down your neck.
Team by team of reporters baffled trumped, tethered cropped.
Look at them playing!
Fine, then. Uh oh overflow,
population, common food, but it'll do.
Save yourself, serve yourself.
World serves its own needs.
Listen to your heart bleed dummy with rapture
and the revered and the right, right.
You vitriolic, patriotic, slam, fight,
bright light, feeling pretty psyched.

Six O'clock - TV hour.
Don't get caught in foreign towers.
Slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn.
Locking in, uniforming, book burning, blood letting.
Every motive escalate. Automotive incinerate.
Light a candle, light a votive. Step down step down.
Watch your heel crush, crushed, uh-oh.
This means no fear cavalier. Renegade steer clear!
A tournament, tournament, a tournament of lies.
Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives and I decline.

The other night I dreamt of knives,
continental drift divide.
Mountains sit in a line,
Leonard Bernstein, Leonid Brezhnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester Bangs
Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom!
You symbiotic, patriotic, slam book neck, right? Right.

It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine...
It's time I had some time alone."

You can conjure your own pictures.

If this is read in the few minutes before August 12, it would indicate the viewer doesn't particularly want to go to bed. Well, the viewer should go outside and scan the sky for shooting stars. High activity is actually expected pre- dawn, but it's very calm, cool and frogs bellowing outside tonight. So whether your front yard is a pile-o-dirt with a hole or slanted garage roof, sit down in a lawn chair, wrap yourself in mosquito repellent and moisture reducing gear and stare a bit at the sky. It promises to be life altering. Really. You might find God. Or someone similar. Cheers.

The irrationality of mood swings does wonders. Why should overcast skies affect endorphin levels? Why would it be any more crazy to gauge the day using the number of coloured cars? But then comes speculation that UV rays help the release of these happy hormones. The beat around bushes: I've been coasting on a unseasonable high. Carefree, summery days and all that sedative hogwash commercial radio and breweries produce for the warmer months. Media influence or not, this is kind of neat. Where now I'm going to sleep on a mat and listen to the moths hurtle themselves against the window screens.

Mom and I are back from watching two people walk around Paris and chat. Before Sunset was captivating the same way peeking in to another person's life is or eavesdropping on a prolongued conversation. The ambiguous ending is quaint in the same way the first was left inconclusive, and I really enjoyed our after movie bus stop conversation about whether crazily astounding breathtaking romantic love is worth the hassle. (I maintain it's not)

The bicycle is a great method of transportation. I've been able to cope in a bus pass - less August so far. Home to tutoring: 40 minutes. Home to PERC: 45 minutes. It's actually the same time or faster compared to the bus since there isn't really any waiting involved. On top of that, I've eased my parents' lament about the lack of mandatory Phys. Ed. in school. On the other hand: hurrah heat exhaustion and extensive water consumption.

In closing news, Business Trip Dad in Korea has purchased an overpriced digital camera. Can't wait for pixelated pictures of my nostrils and searching for an image encapsulating dummy.

Last Saturday I went to an organic farmer's market. Where milk came in jars. With tops, milk man-horse-drawn-cart-like. It was hidden in an alley behind Canadian Tire at an alternatvie school. I'll try to buy carrots from there this week. What next, grocery shopping adventures?

Otherwise, Mom got my cousin to buy dumplings from China for the potluck at work. Apparently the coworkers liked it. I should be heading down to eat the left overs now. That and making a proper lesson plan. ESL tutelage is looking up. We were able to hold a question and answer session about her current reading material: Rune's Children. Think Korean Harry Potter with Doctors who know magic. Her cousin just arrived, so I might have more shifts, but he's able to read Harry Potter in English so we'll see how well I can go on faking it.