Tesla

There aren't many cars that can make me drool.

This is one of them.



This is a Tesla Roadster. For those of you who are wondering why it's named after the father of Alternating Current, I'll give you a hint.
It's electric.

It goes as fast as a Mercedes and has a chassis modified from a Lotus. It's got better mileage than a hybrid, and I'm pretty sure it can recharge on any high-output outlet.

Do I want it?
Fuck yes.
Can I afford it?
Well, anyone have another $88,000 I can borrow?

Edit: I'd want that fucker in jet black too. None of that hot-rod red shit.

Stuck in a Rut of Motion and Disaster

Well, it's back to the posting board for me.

Vulcan's turned me down for the position. They decided to aim it more towards an editor position, and I'm only really qualified to be a reporter, so I got passed over. This time. Maybe. They're keeping my resumé and copies of my portfolio on hand, but I'm just picturing it all there, collecting dust in some filing cabinet.

Am I really so much of a failure...?

There's two other postings I could take. One's in Dauphin Manitoba, the other is in a community paper in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories.

Huh. Ryan, I might be coming to visit sooner than either of us thought.

Symbolism

Some things are better left to explain themselves. I had a dream where I saw something like this last night, and it didn't come back to me until just now. The main difference between it and this being that there was a sword, not a knife.

I could describe what all the symbols mean, but I'd rather leave it to you all to find your own meaning in the objects and arrangement I've laid before you.

Snake-eyes

I saw Snakes on a Plane a couple days ago. It was a pretty good movie. The director did an amicable job at getting around the cheesiness that could have otherwise destroyed the movie. I'm curious about the rating though. It was a pretty violent movie, and there was more than a little bare-breasted action, but even so, it only got a 14A rating.

Then again, if I think about it, what are a lot of 14 year old kids looking forward to nowadays?
Yeah, I figured. Naked people having sex isn't so much of a shock as it used to be, I guess.

On to today.
Let's pretend it never happened. Yeah.
Couldn't get much worse. Well, it could, and I wouldn't be surprised if it did, but I don't think it will. It's always the slow dagger that penetrates the shield.

I'm pretty much frustrated to the point of outrage. But really, what can I do?

I keep asking myself that question, what can I do? The answer is always the same.

Not a whole lot. It's out of my hands, and the feeling of helplessness is there because faith is on vacation and hope was sold out.

Like Lightning

Sometimes you swear you've got it. But in this case, it's just another set of fireworks.



They say that truly talented photographers have steady hands and keen eyes. Obviously I only have one of the two.



And the last one, before I make you all sick of the same boring trick over and over again. I somehow caught a reflection on this one, and I couldn't tell whether it was my lens, or just the fact that the grass was wet. In either event, it looked good, so here it is.

With no further regards, I hope you all enjoyed the pictures. I'm fairly tired after three nights without sleep, and my bed is looking very appealing right now.

Wild Times at the Westward Point

I'll just let some of these speak for themselves.











For this last picture, I got a little too close. It was a 1 in 10 firework misfire, and it came and landed right in front of me and my camera tri-pod, detonating in a shower of stinging sparklers. My trademark spasm must've come at just the right time, because I got a picture of it.



Close call? Yes. A firework might be trivial to some of you testosterone jockeys, but let me tell you. There's nothing manly about being a blind man.

What happens when good things come?

Bad things follow.

Like a headcold. Congested sinuses, and the unpleasantness of the family.
I go places. Destruction and hard times follow.

Ugh. My head feels like a water balloon. I'm cranky. I'm tired. I've been driving all day, and I just know when I go to sleep, I'll be driving in my sleep too.

No kidney shots, thanks. I got enough of those as a kid.

I can already tell. This weekend is going to be miserable. Don't bother waiting up.

Not that anyone does anyway.

Strange Happenings

So.

I won't be home tommorrow. I got a call from the fine folks over in Vulcan for a job interview. So I spent this evening dusting off my portfolio, and checking to make sure my printed resumés were up to date. Not that anything has changed in the last three months, but you know. It never hurts to check.

My instincts are telling me that it probably won't result in me getting the job, but it's a good start, as the position I was pining for in Olds is coming available soon too. Maybe it's a collective shift. Everyone's moving. Why shouldn't I join the trend?

In other news, I've been pretty bored the last few days. I don't know why. I've even bothered to get out of the house on a couple occassions (false alarms, I think), but I just feel I should be doing something that I'm not, and I can't quite put a finger on what it is. Oh well. Can't possible be worse than a fax on national security, sitting unanswered on some godforsaken corner of my desk.

I promised myself I'd go for a drive. Tommorrow is my chance. I'm going to take the camera, and I'm also going to pick up some beef jerky. Yep, right from the source. Longview Alberta.

Tack on an extra hour and a half of drive time. Oh yes... I'm gonna have to upload some more tunes to my player before I leave. Hopefully there'll be something worth seeing while I'm on the road.

Alert Status Reddicus

My buddy Mike showed me this. I don't know who precisely it belongs to, but whoever made it has a sharp sense of humour.

Just look at it while listening to Alert Status Red. I can't stop laughing. I can't. It's too funny.

Thanks for the Hammer

Just wanted to thank D for the hammer and the new armor.

They're awesome.

That is all.




300 down.
5 million left to go.

A Memory

It had just finished raining.

The planks under my feet were cold and wet, slightly slippery, although bare feet didn't slip as readily as the rediculous duck-boots that the girls insisted on wearing to protect their gaudy Whinney-the-Pooh socks from the moisture. Given that we were at least an hour from any dry land, moisture was kind of a given. If it wasn't the rain that came like clockwork, it was the ocean that leapt up to greet us whenever the wind started to blow. It was something you didn't dare go to greet back, because the ocean was greedy, and if you got too close, it would take you for tea, permanently. Especially at this hour.

I was supposed to be keeping watch, making sure no boats inadvertantly hit us, and also to make sure the ship didn't come free from her anchor. Neither seemed likely in this humanity-forsaken cove near the northern tip of Vancouver Island. The only thing that seemed to hit the boat was rain, and when it wasn't raining, it was clear enough to see the entire milky way.

Amidst the sounds of lapping waves and the low rumble of thunder, it was something to watch the stars move overhead, wondering if someone around one of those stars was looking up, wondering if I was out here, and if I actually existed.

It was a weird feeling, to be sure. Maybe it was the fact that the boat never stopped moving, and, like the stars, I was in perpetual motion. Maybe it was the constant sound, like some kind of dream that I never wanted to wake up from. Standing overtop the primordial crib of all life of the planet, and then looking up at the destiny of it's apex species, I felt for a moment...

Yes, I do exist. I hope we meet someday, and I can tell you all about this planet. The people on it. The creatures that exist on it. The history. The goods, the evils, and everything inbetween.

And then, just like that. My watch was over. I went back into the holds, crawled into my bunk, and then slept the rest of the night away without so much as a thought about who, or what, might be out there amongst the stars.

I'm sure they probably did the same.

Cold

We got hit by more rain today. Cold rain, miserable stuff that usually falls during the autumn. It was about 8 degrees outside as I was driving home. It was refreshing and terrible at the same time. I'm sitting here, and everytime I reach for a "p" or a "q," my fingers give a twisted little crack, because the poor joints are just frozen.

This Friday, the family is leaving for the family reunion. I'm probably not going to go until Saturday, because I want to wait and see if any of my late applications call back. I doubt they will, but it's worth waiting around for anyway. I'd really like to be able to tell my extended family that I'm going somewhere, and that I'm accomplishing something. But alas, the only thing I'm doing right now is sinking into a steady apathetic depression. Whatever.

I'm not even sure I want to see my extended family. I don't know how many of them will recognize me from last year. Times have changed, and I certainly have too, and despite the gossip ring that my mom keeps up throughout the year, most of my aunts and uncles still haven't the faintest clue who I am, or to whom "I belong to." Fine by me. Just stop calling me Chris. Please.

Old story. Anyway, September is fast approaching. I don't know what I'm going to do when it gets here. It will be the first time in my entire life where the fall is coming and I haven't enrolled in anything. I don't have the funds for university, and I don't particularly want to work any of the grind jobs I've already spent all too much time working at.

Mm. Reading back on this, I'm realizing a bit what I've been meaning to say.

I haven't got shit.

Goodnight, and regards to the pretty girls.
They will likely find these words hollow and meaningless.

Mjollnir

We had a pretty big thunderstorm today. It's been so hot and dry lately, I thought the reprieve would never come. It just goes to show that summer can't just be all hot and dry. Too much energy is released, and thunderstorms are proof against the heat death of the universe.

Or at least, the heat death of one photophobic anti-socialite. Screw you, weatherman. We don't need anymore days of 40 degrees and hot, dry heat.

Let it rain! Let it fucking pour until all the dust and smoke is gone, and I can see from here to the mountains again!

My name is...

Chain letters. Careful Fair, these things are lead shoes over lakes of thin ice.

Anyway:

Once you've been tagged, you have to write a comment with six very random facts about yourself. In the end you need to choose six more people to be tagged and list their names.

1. I write right handed, but play almost all sports with my left.

2. I am mathematically disinclined.

3. I prefer apricots over peaches.

4. I dislike being the centre of attention.

5. I've sailed on the sea, flown in the air, and driven on land.

6. I've written over a half-million pages of fiction in my life, but never finished a book.

Six more people? Well, whoever else wants to burn some time, go ahead. I'm not going to speak for anyone.

Oh. And for a side note, blogger is superior to the faux pas that is the blogs in Myspace. Just a thought after today's technological wrestling I had to endure.

Oh my Head

There's a change in the weather coming. I can feel it. I can feel it in all four of my cavernous sinuses. Either that or I've got the mother of all infections brewing. If I do, I hope its something lethal. I hate these fucking headaches that make my face feel like a tumor.

In any other news worth your two minutes of attention, I don't think they're calling back. In fact, my precognitive intuition tells me they won't. This is not me being pessimistic. This is me stating my gut feeling. My reason for thinking so? It's summer. That's rush time for all the college and university grads. We're all squabbling for career jobs, and in the media fields, there just aren't enough to go around. That, and all my supposed experience really doesn't amount to much. I know what I can do, but sadly, experience is measured in years, not clippings.

Meanwhile, I'm heading for the ultimate in stagnation. Somebody come and punch me if I become that lazy slob that just sits in the basement playing WoW all day. Please. There's a person and a place for that, but I am and have neither, so I must not start down that path.

I still haven't L&M's yet. Sorry Trevor. I've worked out some basic piano parts, but I can't really do much with it at this point, especially now that my parents have gotten back home, and they're using my piano as a catch-all while they're reorganizing the house. That, and I can't play guitar because every room has a fucking TV on at all times.

Fuck. It's any wonder how I can live in this house, and still hardly ever catch what's on the tube.

Send my regards to the world. I'm sure the answer will be lukewarm.

Bad Timing

I guess it could only have been an omen that I found my old Matt Good collection. Those of you that are fans of the man and not the music might want to swing by his site and read up on what's been shaking in Good Towne lately.

Or rather, what's not been shaking.

I don't want to gossip about it here, but I feel the need to say I could care less if he has to cancel all his shows forever if that's what it takes.

I know, I haven't picked up a pen and written anything in earnest in a long time. It takes a while to get everything back.

What the fuck is it about summer?

Suffocating Exhaustion

I might actually sleep tonight, rather than waiting until dawn.

I'm exhausted. The drive actually came today, four minutes before my alarm was supposed to go off and wake me. Four minutes that seems to have thrown my entire day off, because I've felt like a slug in salt water all day.

I'm half-asleep as a write this, and since I'm on the Oldest Computer Known to Man, I finally dug out my old classic Matthew Good Band tracks, and I found one that I haven't heard in ages...

It goes by the title "She's Got a New Disguise."

Makes me wonder why nobody makes music like this anymore... I like Matt's new stuff, but seriously, there hasn't been anything that comes anywhere close to his former band's stuff.

Oh well, so the Hand delivereth, so too does It taketh away. I just wish I had copied that picture Matt had on his website, showing a chart cataloguing the descent of real music, while showing the ascension of flash-in-the-pan rock acts.

It's true you know, it's true. Just start up a Myspace.hell account and put musician anywhere on your site. Within weeks you WILL be bombarded by up-and-coming rock acts who are so desperate for attention (and therefore tickets) that they will send you friendly messages, band schedules, and even the odd free ticket. A ticket to what, you might ask? Their express row seating to watch them take the fast track to musical suicide.

And then the next thing you know, the entire band turns into zombies, and everyone's yelling "Get to the choppa!"

Best line ever.

Medina

I'm looking at a crater as I write this.

A crater that once used to be a computer hard-drive.
Needless to say, I shall not be online or in-game until Thursday, maybe Friday. Maybe even later than that.

Not that it overly affects anyone. In the mean-time, I'm beating the snot out of some PS2 games and some Gamecube games I've neglected. Maybe I'll write a review, if I can get on this hunk of junk again.

Otherwise. Yeah. See everyone in a few days.