equivocality — Jeff Ngan's collection of thoughts, experiences, and projects, inspired by pretty much everything
13 May 13

in between

I haven’t had much to say, which is always a strange state to be in. Probably due to the fact that I’m mak­ing a con­scious effort to lis­ten more and speak less. You begin to won­der about the impor­tance of your thoughts, and what really needs to be said.

It feels like I’m between…things. I’ve recently fin­ished off a few projects, so I’m tak­ing a break before I start another pro­duc­tiv­ity binge. Me-time has mostly involved win­ning drafts and cash­ing in wagers. Lisa’s off to Hawaii for her hon­ey­moon so it’ll be a month before I see her again, but that gives me a much-needed chance to spend time with the friends who aren’t part of my reg­u­lar schedule.

cats by the door

 

The cats are into their spring cycles, shed­ding like mad, and sleep­ing by the door dur­ing the day. I’m tempted to cut my hair short again in antic­i­pa­tion of the heat, but I’m hav­ing too much fun grow­ing it out right now. I’ve decided to embrace the length cause I know I’ll get sick of it even­tu­ally and cut of it off, like any other cycle of growth and loss, love and hate.

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31 Jan 13

torpor

The hol­i­day sea­son is offi­cially over when it doesn’t feel right to watch Christmas spe­cials of Only Fools and Horses. The Trotter boys are out of their ele­ment, try­ing to strike it rich in exotic locales, and the Peckham flat is too far away for things to feel nor­mal. Still, watch­ing them makes me miss the UK more than ever. I’ve taken to episodes of Sherlock to get my dose of London nights until I can find a way to make it over there again.

girl in snow

Pointer of quarry, tamer of cats.

Over here, it’s been a faith­ful Canadian win­ter. Bouts of var­ied snow­fall, record-breaking lows, and a spot of freez­ing rain here and there. My gui­tar must be achingly dry as the mod­est humid­i­fier help­lessly fails to main­tain bal­ance against the con­stant churn of the furnace.

I’ve been pick­ing her up again, rebuild­ing my blis­ters and re-learning old songs. Sometimes I won­der how I was ever able to play cer­tain pas­sages, but know­ing I have before makes it eas­ier the sec­ond time around. This time it feels a lit­tle dif­fer­ent though. I have a bet­ter reach and a more con­fi­dent picky, along with some new pains that have found their way into my hands.

cat in cat bed

 

The cold that per­me­ates the house means Dolly prefers sleep­ing in her bed over any one spot, and I can carry her around with me from room to room to keep me com­pany. Byron is rarely far away. Even though he’s not as affec­tion­ate as Dolly, he’s still my cat in the way he comes to walk on me when I wake, and the rit­ual play­time we have after teeth are brushed.

With the cats form­ing a lit­tle nest wher­ever I go, and the view of ice and snow just out­side the win­dow, I have lit­tle rea­son to leave the house nowadays.

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26 Dec 12

merry x-mas

Julia asked me how long I’d been spend­ing Christmas at their house. We fig­ured out this was the sev­enth year, cause I have pic­tures of Ginger from 2005, before she died. I can’t say I remem­ber each Christmas dis­tinctly, aside from a few extra faces and occa­sional make­outs that cause some to stand out more than oth­ers. It’s strange to think that I’ve known Braiden for more than half his life. I per­pet­u­ally think of him as being seven.

The Rogers'

 

The kids are get­ting older, no longer up at 5am and anx­iously wait­ing by the presents until they’re allowed to wake up the par­ents. The idea of Santa has long been dis­pelled. Braiden’s given up being a cen­tre for goalie, lost his post-season scruff cut, and at 13 is only an inch shorter than me. Nicole’s done most of her grow­ing and will be legal in four months, but at the age where she’s still someone’s daugh­ter instead of her own woman. Julia’s sport­ing a new voice and pierc­ing, but has kept all the sass that comes with being the mid­dle child.

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12 Oct 12

it hasn't been quite a whole year yet

I still have fond mem­o­ries of the fall. It’s when the light is at it’s most neu­tral, not warmed by the sum­mer sun or cooled by it’s reflec­tion on the snow. The time of long show­ers, kit­ties being even more affec­tion­ate, and girls always find­ing the right spot to nes­tle under your neck.

On par­tic­u­larly bright, chilly days, with all the leaves a flat lemon-yellow, I can hardly take it all in.

cat in sunbeam

We are on this planet to move our cats directly in the path of a sun­beam every 15 minutes.

The sun­beams form a celes­tial cal­en­dar across my floor, slowly creep­ing along as they threaten to warp the wood in my instru­ments, remind­ing me that I haven’t spent a win­ter in this room yet. I can only hope the mem­o­ries will be bet­ter this time around.

These days, I still dream of a nylon-stringed beauty, with warm tones and crisp bass close to the sad­dle. I won­der what she’ll feel like under my fin­gers, mahogany or rose­wood, satin or glossy. It’s a dream that never seems far away cause I know it’ll hap­pen some day, so I try to cher­ish the anticipation.

toy plane

 

I’ve been feel­ing par­tic­u­larly nos­tal­gic. When the right song comes on, I’m taken to the time in my life when it was the only thing I played for a week straight. I used to write so much, but lately I hardly have any­thing to say it all. That’s why I’m addicted to the feel­ing of feel­ing, search­ing for inspi­ra­tion, using my dreams to keep me alive.

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05 Aug 12

I want to know do I stay or do I go

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So.

Filmed a great wed­ding yes­ter­day, one that left me tired and sore and much deserv­ing of a break. It’s a hazy Sunday morn­ing, and another day that it’ll feel like it’s above 40°C with the humid­ity. Working nearly 13 hours and turn­ing into a lit­tle pud­dle of Asian man means I’m con­sciously avoid­ing the out­doors today. I’ll be con­tent to sip my cof­fee and peer out the win­dow at the gen­tly sun­lit trees.

cat and drink on a hot day

Majel helps us taste-test cock­tails for the reception.

Even though it’s get­ting ever closer to her wed­ding, and Lisa has an increas­ing num­ber of things to get done, we’ve been able to see each other more lately. I’ve real­ized that it’s not good enough to have her meet my needs. I have to fill a cer­tain role in her life too. That’s what brings mean­ing to the rela­tion­ship, cause it means she appre­ci­ates me the way I want to be appre­ci­ated. So often, it feels like that’s all I’ve ever wanted.

I’m glad to have devel­oped a rit­ual get-together with Aaron too. When we don’t see each other one week, it feels like a year the next time we catch up. Tonight I’m head­ing over to his house for the start of bach­e­lor week, some­thing we’ve been excit­edly plan­ning for a while now. It’s the first time he’s had the house to him­self since the kids were born, so I’ll be stay­ing there for a few days of games, movies, bar­be­cue, and gen­eral guy stuff, com­ing back home to feed the kit­ties every now and then. We’re doing a six per­son Magic tour­ney tomor­row, my first in the Constructed for­mat, and everyone’s mak­ing new decks for the chance to open some M13 boost­ers. I think my deck con­cept is BRILLIANT and I can’t wait to try it out.

Chet Atkins has also been keep­ing me com­pany lately. I’m so glad to have found his instruc­tional DVD, where he talks with his old man charm about what he likes in each song and how to play them, phrase by phrase. I grew my thumb­nail out nice and long for nearly two months, cut it off for practicality’s sake dur­ing wed­ding sea­son, then imme­di­ately regret­ted the deci­sion. The elec­tric strings I’ve been using have a really flat, dull tone in the lower reg­is­ter, and since the bass line is so impor­tant in Chet’s arrange­ments, it’s like an entire part is miss­ing from any song I try to learn. I’m going to try learn­ing with a thumb pick, which is some­thing I’ve been avoid­ing for a while now cause I hate the loss of sen­si­tiv­ity (like a con­dom on your thumb), but hope­fully the com­pro­mise is worth it.

I have things to orga­nize, chores to do, errands to run, and a house to clean before I leave. For now, I’ll enjoy the rest of the morn­ing, wast­ing time.

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16 Jul 12

He Who Cannot Be Tamed

Byron’s over a year old now, which means he’s offi­cially an adult in kitty years. I’ve given up on my dream of hav­ing another big cat to cud­dle, as he’s retained stocky limbs and long tail, but grown into a small and slen­der body.

Dolly more than makes up for that though, even though she’s still a lit­tle sore at me for bring­ing him home. She’s nowhere near as tol­er­ant to my teas­ing as before, but she’s still social and still nes­tles against my chest when she’s in the mood (usu­ally dur­ing naps, never at night nowadays).

he who cannot be tamed

Disguised in this inno­cent yawn is a silent roar from the killer within.

My rela­tion­ship with Byron is very dif­fer­ent from the one I share with Dolly. She’s a cat who appre­ci­ates the love and atten­tion I give her, and she shows me this with every nuz­zle and purr.

Byron, on the other hand, is more of a pet; a cat who’s nice to have around, but who doesn’t inter­act with me on the same level. He has a few social habits — hang­ing out with me when he knows it’ll soon be meal time, or jump­ing on me for a nice rub­down when he hears me stir­ring in bed as I’m wak­ing up — but that’s usu­ally as far as it goes. I’ve tried to nour­ish a stronger bond with him by prac­tic­ing con­trolled feed­ing and mak­ing sure I pick him up sev­eral times a day, but he’s always remained a kitty of his own.

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15 Apr 12

a path you didn't choose

People are for­go­ing their heavy coats for light jack­ets, even a litte skin. But win­ter still lingers in the crisp air, a reminder that it hasn’t been long since those frigid nights, but that it’ll soon be warmer and brighter. On the right days, I can wake up with the warmth of the sun on my face, drive with the win­dows down, and eat din­ner in the daylight.

The cats sit intently by the back door for hours, lis­ten­ing for any birds come home for Spring. They haven’t heard any since last year, and for Byron, that’s pretty much a life­time. Nowadays, I mea­sure time by how much heav­ier feels every day. There’s a com­fort to be found in know­ing that your cats are grow­ing and healthy.

cats eating

 

It feels like so much of what I used to cher­ish has fallen to the way­side. Like I’m relent­lessly try­ing to catch up on sleep, on time spent with friends, on gui­tar prac­tice, on var­i­ous projects, on get­ting to inbox 0. With time now such a valu­able resource, I’ve been re-evaluating things to sal­vage as much as I can. Figuring out the dif­fer­ence between what I truly enjoy and what I enjoy because I think I should, between what I need and what I want.

It’s strange to think that I’ve ended up here, and yet it’s hardly dif­fer­ent from where I was not so long ago. Life is always inter­est­ing, no mat­ter what age you are, and regard­less of how you think you’ve set­tled into it. If you’re doing it right, at least.

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13 Feb 12

sine wave

It’s per­pet­u­ally night in my lit­tle nest. A gui­tar is never more than an arms length away, and two cats are always will­ing to curl up against my body under the sheets (though never together); some days it feels like these are the only things I need in the world. Perhaps I’m lit­tle too com­fort­able here, where I can watch the snow fall out the win­dow, and sel­dom have to ven­ture out of my com­fort zone.

I’m con­stantly start­ing over. Throwing away a page so I can have a blank can­vas. Losing another friend to adult­hood, then find­ing new ones in the most unex­pected places. Riding the oscil­la­tions of a sine wave.

The only thing that’s con­stant is how much Byron is grow­ing, his paws and tail hav­ing sur­passed Dolly’s in girth many months ago, and I can’t wait to see how big he’s going to get once he’s fully into adult­hood. I relate to my friends only when one of the cats is afflicted with acne or her­pes or an upper res­pi­ra­tory infec­tion, and I have to play mother to a kitty who can’t fight the sick­ness by them­selves. Dolly has been espe­cially sen­si­tive lately, and needs a lot more atten­tion and affec­tion, still jeal­ous of the new kit­ten in the house.

cats sleeping butt to butt

Butt to butt.

Lisa keeps me sane nowa­days, a role she’s par­tially taken over from John ever since he became a dad. She’s the voice of female rea­son in my life, the only excuse I use to watch great movies now, and the one who talks me down from drunken e-mails to ex-girlfriends. But some­times I need more than half a Lisa and half a John, cause not every­thing can be solved by a stolen con­ver­sa­tion or bury­ing your face in a cat’s belly.

I’m learn­ing that life goes on, whether you’re ready or not. You can only con­trol so much. This real­iza­tion is the rea­son I don’t worry about the future any­more, even when it feels like I should be worried.

I’ve also dis­cov­ered that my writer’s block hasn’t been due to a lack of things to talk about, but the fact that noth­ing I write is sat­is­fy­ing any­more. I’ve lost my rea­son. The only thing I’ve fallen in love with lately has been my set of extra-light chrome flat­wound strings, cause they have such a crisp sound off the nail, but main­tain a warm, aus­tere overtone.

I used to go to bed and dream, but nowa­days, my mind is empty. I don’t know what to make of it all any­more. Can’t fig­ure out if I’m stand­ing on a crest or trough.

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06 Jan 12

is this it

I learned that the mea­sure of a man is his abil­ity to stir-fry bok choi hearts.

That High Fidelity is the new (500) Days of Summer.

That it’s nice to be needed.

That I still won­der if I’m forgotten.

That it’s not so much that I don’t have any­thing to write about, but noth­ing ever seems impor­tant enough to put down on paper nowadays.

That I say oh my god a lot.

That food poi­son­ing is like a lax­a­tive for both ends.

That I’m allowed to miss her.

That it’s okay to think oth­ers are cute too.

That I’m doing the whole Swingers thing with Lisa, where she’s try­ing to con­vince me I’m a big fuck­ing bear.

That I can’t read signals.

That it doesn’t mat­ter whether or not you’re invited, as long as you’re happy where you are.

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23 Nov 11

this same flower that smiles today

I find myself resigned to someone’s care. It’s not an easy kind of con­trol to relin­quish, but lately I trust as lit­tle as pos­si­ble in the future and do my best to go along for the ride. As the old poem goes; be wise, strain the wine, or as Zorba would put it, “DON’T BE DELICATE”. I didn’t plan on liv­ing for­ever anyway.

On a cold night, we keep the only promise made, one of those small won­ders that still make me believe. I fit some­where between needs and wants, tem­po­rary relief and long-term side effects, class and home­work, nib­bled lips and bit­ten tongues.

in a field

 

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04 Nov 11

some day i'm gonna find it out

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Over-stimulation is a sling­shot moved by the force of com­pany for the sake of self-distraction.

cat in window

 

And yet I’ve never felt so alone. The nights are filled with absence, which I try to mol­lify with indul­gence. It’s okay for now cause I know I’ll be okay some day, when it’ll be safe to be alone with my thoughts again.

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18 Sep 11

Byron

Kitties are impos­si­ble to resist when you see them in every other viral video doing some­thing hilar­i­ous or clever or just plain cute, and my plan to wait until life set­tled down a bit before adopt­ing another one was as dif­fi­cult as the inten­tions were noble.

I’ve had Byron for about a month now, and he’s already been a great com­pan­ion. He hasn’t warmed up to sleep­ing with me at night, but he fre­quently sleeps in my lap, and fol­lows me around the house, even going so far as to lie on the bath­mat to watch me when­ever I’m mak­ing a nice BM. He also rarely stops mov­ing, which makes him espe­cially dif­fi­cult to pho­to­graph. Like Dolly, he can be quite a vocal cat, and will meow repeat­edly when he knows he’s about to be fed or if I call his name.

cat on a couch

 

I can tell he’s already grown in the short time I’ve had him. It’s always fun to see how all the parts of kit­ties develop at dif­fer­ent rates; right now he has big ears and a full tail, though his big mitts are more likely due to his breed. His face is also quite mature, though it isn’t par­tic­u­larly strik­ing or unique.

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05 Sep 11

rose coloured veil

Thank you for friends from Scotland and moon­cake from Hong Kong.

Thank you for guests and hosts and holidays.

Thank you for friends like Lisa and Flight of the Concords.

cat on lap

Thank you for healthy kitties.

Thank you for mov­ing base­lines and dub­step wobbles.

Thank you for locally grown beef and sig­na­ture sauces.

Basia Bulat at the Ottawa Folk Festival

Thank you for inspi­ra­tions and front row seats.

Thank you for British sit­coms, old and new.

Thank you for cheeks and daydreams.

friends playing Magic: The Gathering

Thank you for new friends and Magic nights.

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05 Jul 11

kitty considerations

It’s been four months since Leonard died. I remem­ber going to bed that night, con­stantly turn­ing over my pil­low to find a dry spot, sob­bing so much I couldn’t fall asleep.

The necropsy showed that he had a mas­sive liver and kid­ney infec­tion. My vet excused his lan­guage and said, “Shit hap­pens” when I asked (per­haps with a quiver in my voice) what I could have done to pre­vent it.

Soon after, he sent me a card offer­ing his con­do­lences, and said it was a plea­sure deal­ing with some­one who cares so much. It was prob­a­bly the best thing any­one could have done to assuage any feel­ings of guilt. That fact that Leonard had a stub tail with no signs of scar­ring makes me sus­pect that he was the runt of the lit­ter, likely born with a weak con­sti­tu­tion, but that doesn’t stop me from always feel­ing like I could have done more.

He was always so affec­tion­ate, almost to the point of being overly so. Every morn­ing he’d rub his nose on my face until I stirred, which would be extremely aggra­vat­ing if it weren’t one of the most seraphic ways to be woken up.

I remem­ber him sleep­ing with me one bright after­noon. Dolly decided to nes­tle her­self in the crook of my arm under the blan­ket, and Leonard soon joined us, though he decided to curl up on my neck instead. It was the per­fect nap configuration.

I’m still glad I had him, as short as our time was. It sad­dens me most to think that I never got to know what he’d be like as a mature cat, whether he’d keep his play­ful­ness and extro­ver­sion into adult­hood. At the very least, Heather and Sergey, Aaron and Trolley, Darren and John all got to meet him before he died.

Leonard at the Humane Society

I took this pic­ture of his Humane Society pro­file before head­ing over to meet him. They named him, “Elvis”.

I’ve been check­ing the Humane Society web­site for male kit­tens avail­able for adop­tion ever since. I recently found one with the right details and a goofy face too, but I don’t think I’m ready for another cat yet. I’m not sure I could han­dle it if the next one hap­pened to die so sud­denly as well. But I know that soon enough I’ll be itch­ing to adopt again, and that the idea of hav­ing another cat in my life will pre­vail over any worries.

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19 Jun 11

Scotland, Day 7: Edinburgh

It’s slow going in the house of mirth. We’ve been explor­ing parts of Scotland every day, so we decided to take a day off to watch acclaimed British sit­coms and movies. I’m so happy here. It finally feels like I’m on vaca­tion, as Dennis likes to remind me when I say I shouldn’t eat any more ice cream. Where else does some­one keep my dishes delight­fully warm in the oven before serv­ing me? Luckily, Dennis is also some­thing of an accom­plished key­board player. Jamming with new peo­ple, learn­ing their unique strengths and the sound they can get from their instru­ments, is always more fun than I can describe.

Funny to think that we’d only met once before at Aaron’s wed­ding five years ago, and kept in touch from across of the pond. Introverts like us never for­get those kinds of con­nec­tions, cause it’s so rare to find a per­son to whom you can eas­ily talk for hours. He lives the same life I have now, the same life I see myself hav­ing many years into the future. Even our cats are alike.

conservatory

Dennis had this con­ser­va­tory built as a room where he could lounge dur­ing the day. The poly­car­bon­ate ceil­ing lets plenty of light through and keeps the space bright and warm and sunny and I’ve decided that I need a room like this.

When the sun sets it can get quite chilly, so then we move to the main room and put the fire on.

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