Monthly Archives: March 2005

A Favour House Mine

We were at the house late last night, building desks and filling drywall holes. I decided not to sleep in this morning, because I needed the time to get work done, although I also needed sleep to get it done properly. There are mailouts to complete, statement stuffers to design, bitmaps to vectorize, and countless other things for which I’m responsible. I convinced myself that I’ve (begrudgingly) gone through enough torturing days of little sleep for someone else, so it would be more appropriate if I did it for myself now.

Stepping outside, the chill of winter morning still in the air against the early light of spring, I skipped nine tracks until Claudio started singing, in his shifting, melodic voice:

Bye bye beautiful
Don’t bother to write

My lethargy turned into energy, as I thought of how things have worked out based on the decisions I made. How I could die happy right now, although I’d prefer to wait at least two weeks if given the choice.

The way I seem to have everything I deserve, and nothing that I don’t.

Yoghurt And Rice

Someone used a yoghurt and rice example on me the other day. In his beautiful Lebanese accent, he told me, “It’s like yoghurt and rice. I can explain it to you, but you won’t understand until you try it for yourself.” There must be several other ways of saying the same thing, but the most interesting I’ve ever heard was two examples at once: Taco Bell and anal sex.

Now I’m dying to try yoghurt and rice. I’m guessing that it would only work if it’s white rice (jasmine fragranced would be neutral enough), and a plain, non-fruity, yoghurt.

Case In Point

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Exp

Today, I got to pick the restaurant. I chose one that’s always bustling on the weekends, even when there isn’t a wedding reception being hosted, named after the Yangtze River in China. There was a mixture of language in the air, due to the fact that I was surrounded by large Chinese families, catching up on each others lives, and young Caucasian couples, on their Friday night dates. The families were all familiar. I could relate to every young boy in them, trying to finish his deep fried crab claw balls while concentrating on the game in his GameBoy. The couples…

I thought about the time we walked around those long, sterile aisles that only you could take me to. There were small plants of basil next to a miscellaneous food item sample stand, and it was my first time smelling the aroma of a live stalk. What a drastic difference it was from the basil I bought in a container, or labelled as “FRESH” when they were ripped from the roots before transportation.

“For some reason, I feel like steak”.

Someone from another couple overheard and couldn’t help laughing.

“I know exactly what you mean”, the man jovially said.

We looked for a steakhouse afterward. On the highway, I asked for a suggestion. Your knowledge of the local restaurants was always wider than mine. I gave reasons against your first two proposals, and you refused to continue, frustrated. I thought about the time we tried to find a game we could both get into, and you rejected the first eight. How difficult it was to not kick that Gamecube into the wall, and yet I didn’t say a word, something I could only control because of how much I still cared at that point. I put my foot down to make a decision (much better than the alternative), and we set off for a teppanyaki steakhouse.

It was a place that I saved for celebrations. We were seated alone at a table usually reserved for eight, along with a lone performer, twirling his knife and flipping his flipper. A celebration of us we agreed.

And I decided that those couples around me weren’t so unfamiliar either.

March Books

I love the feel of a new book. Before the corners are dented, when the cover is still slippery smooth.

Guy Gavriel Kay — The Last Light Of The Sun
I was a huge fan of Tigana (although not so much Fionavar Tapestry, even if it was partly based in the city I grew up in). I don’t even like fantasy books, and Tigana is on the list of my top five books of all time.

Carol Shields — The Republic Of Love
As I said in a previous post, I was in the mood for something modern although I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I was also in the mood for something romantic. I found out about this book when I noticed Karen reading it during last years May 2–4 camping trip.

Mordecai Richler — The Apprenticeship Of Duddy Kravitz
Ever since I read The World According To Garp, a book full of lust, humour, passion, and life, discovered from the “Recommended Reading” list that my high school published every year, I had a deep repsect for the books I was exposed to in class. However, two English classes meant two different curriculums. When I was studying The Great Gatsby, the other class was studying To Kill A Mockingbird. When they were doing A Prayer For Owen Meany, I was doing Pride And Prejudice. The Apprentiship of Duddy Kravitz is to make of up for the time I spent studying The Catcher In The Rye.

It was only a few days after I bought these three books that I realized every single one of these authors is Canadian. Why does this country rule so fucking much.