If I was to choose one picture of myself from 2010 that I would consider to be my favourite, it would be this one;
I just found out that the blag at Windows Live Spaces will be deleted if I do not transfer everything over to WordPress. This is fine with me, I had not been using the blag for quite some time. However, now that I have joined with WordPress, I realize that I have no idea what is going on. I don’t yet know how to edit certain areas, changes styles, and so on.
I need time to tinker, I’m afraid. So, please bare with me while I try to clean up the mess.
(Which won’t be an issue, of course, because nobody reads this anymore!)
Just had a nightn that you would not believe. \
Life is good folks. And for anyone thgat duisagrrees, yuou can kisss my disgusting ass,
Tomorrow is the big day.
In the late-morning, I’ll be leaving Winnipeg (via a finely-handled Air Canada Airbus 319) with a pack of smokes and delusions of grandeur in my head. I am doing my best to be humble (I am very fortunate, after all), but at the same time I’m so fucking excited that if I didn’t have an ass to shit out of, I’d shit out my mouth.
For me, this is an exploration expedition. Like I’m a young Samuel du Champlain, first riding the waters of the St. Lawrence River. I have no idea what to expect and I could very likely be in over my head, but, like du Champlain, I don’t give two rat-shits. I love the idea of the road less-travelled and all the sensations and experiences that it could potentially bring. And though I (arguably) never knew him personally, I would expect that du Champlain felt the same way (though a fuck lot more smug).
Now, this is not to say that I haven’t done a fair amount of research (I’m not a fucking idiot), I just haven’t chosen a bunch of things to do that will occupy my time, therefore I’ll be left basically lost for most of it. Lost = Exploration. I like that feeling. "Should I go in there?", "Where the fuck am I?", "I think that woman was a man, but I’m too drunk to care.". You know, all of those great questions you ask yourself when you’re exploring the road less-travelled. (You do know, right?)
The little activities that I have set aside for myself include; ice skating in Latvia in an attempt to make the Latvian hockey team, shooting an AK-47 in an old Soviet bunker in Estonia, and bird-watching in Finland. Oh, and obviously smokin’ like there’s no to-mokin’.
On paper (screen?), that doesn’t look like much at all, and you’re right, it isn’t (way to go!). But there doesn’t need to be much, because I prefer to explore, and when I’m not exploring, I prefer to observe. I’m perfectly happy just going somewhere to sit, drink some beers, and watch how people are. I find it fascinating that, though we’re all the same animal, lines drawn on maps can make people so different. I like to watch all of these different people and observe how they live and act. Harmless enough (though my criminal record would candidly disagree).
A lot of people have asked me whether or not I’m scared. I’ve told each one of them that no, I’m not scared, but I am a little nervous. There is, of course, need for caution when visiting these places by yourself. And while, with a million-dollar smile on my face, I would do nothing to provoke these dangerous situations, there is always the possibility of running into a Shithawk. Luckily, if I ever did find myself in one of these situations, I could side-step my way out of it by performing, "The Crab". It’s true.
So, all talk aside, here I am, on the cusp of an adventure that could bring me anything, good or bad. That’s fine. I’m only left here asking myself, "What will happen?".
Besides the Huddy Futty, I have no clue, but fuck I’m excited to find out!
Tonight I am using this blag more for myself than anybody else. Take it as you will.
- Yesterday, I was on the bus (as I am most days), when I noticed a pretty girl a seat over that looked lost. She had a suitcase and was clearly unsure whether she was on the right bus to the airport. Looking to calm her nerves, I slid over and asked her if she needed help. She did (which she revealed to me with an absolutely gorgeous [gurjis?] accent). Obviously, I told her what she needed to know and we ended up talking all the way to the airport. Once we arrived, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. And man, it was the first transit ride in my life that I wished could have lasted just a little bit longer. (That accent!)
- Mon nom fuck you, you fucking prick.
- One night last year in Prague, I went to a half-tattered rock bar that was, conveniently, offering free Wi-Fi. I always have my iPod with me, so I decided to check what was new on the iTunes Store. To my surprise, there was a brand-new Tragically Hip album, "We Are The Same", up for purchase, so I hopped on the opportunity to download and left the bar shortly after it was done.
During the walk and tram ride back to the hostel, I listened to the album in it’s entirety and instantly fell in love. I enjoyed a couple more rounds of the album while laying in bed and then called her quits for the night (‘Her’ meaning the album, as opposed to ‘her’ meaning some advantageous Czech beauty.)
The next morning I woke at around 0800. I had a shower, ate breakfast, and then decided to take a step out on the deck with my iPod to see who was fuckin’ around. I lit a smoke and started the new Hip album, which begins with "Morning Moon". Everything seemed perfect; the music was beautiful, the hills were dark and calm, the river nearby ran gently, and for once in my life the good half of my face was just a smidgen less lop-sided.
As I relished in all of these tickles to my senses, the chorus of the song began and from behind me the sun peeked up from below the horizon and bathed the hills and river in brilliant light. It was spectacular. And it was at that moment that I think I experienced for the first time what it is to feel true bliss. I mean, really, the whole lop-sided face thing was pretty big for me.
- Here’s a joke for you: A carpenter living on a farm takes a ride into town to pick up some lumber. Upon arriving to his usual spot, "Marty’s Lumber", he noticed that it was closed for the day. So, he had to head over to the quaint lumber shop a couple streets over called, "You Wood Like That".
When he entered, he walked up to the clerk, who was an elderly man dressed in a collared cloak with a straw hat as a topper, and cheerfully said, "Hello Sir, I’m wondering if you could help me, I’m looking for some lumber!".
"And what kind of lumber may I help you with?", the cloaked old-timer helpfully replied.
"I’m looking for some 8′ x 12′ plywood!", the farmer exclaimed.
The elderly man dipped his head a half-inch lower, snarled his upper lip and said, "‘uck you."
The farmer, now taken aback, turned around and walked towards the door. As he did, the elderly man grabbed a 2×4, threw it at the door, and said, "You Wood Like That!".
Then he shit his pants and disappeared.