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Thursday, March 31, 2005


Check one off the to-do list. As of yesterday, Josh Homme of the Queens of the Stone Age has a copy of my stand-up comedy. I've met people I've respected and looked up to before, but this was diffirent. His music has inspired me to rock out to my full potential. A new-school Kurt Cobain, if you would. Heavy, angry, pissy rock music that makes you feel great. It's pure genius when you really think about it.
He was doing a radio show in Toronto, so I decided to check it out. I was already upset I couldn't make the show they were doing, but so be it, you do what you can. So, at the end, when everybody ran to get things like autographs and pictures from him, I hopped up onstage, went to him and gave him something. I gave him my demo tape. I listen to Queens of the Stone age border-line religiouly before shows, it really puts me in a good place, so I felt compelled to pay him back. I shook his hand, told him I really enjoyed his music, and thought he might enjoy my tape. I do think he might, too. I ended it by giving him the rock-and-roll symbol, and left feeling pretty damn good about things. I happened to see him leave into the car, and he still had it in-hand, which makes me laugh. Who knows - maybe next time I'm rocking out to their music, trying to create, he and the band will be breaking from jamming to have a laugh at my jokes. Or I have given a new coaster to the tour bus. The important thing is I did it.
Someone I never met, but respected as well, I will now never meet. Mitch Hedberg has (apparantly) died. It's unconfirmed internet chatter, but the word is out, and a reputable website is confirming it. The fact that it's up in the air as a possible April Fools' joke speaks volumes about his sense of humor and thus my enjoyment of it. He was just damn funny. I remember watching him on the Mike Bullard show one night and laughing out loud, which is rare for me when it comes to stand-up, especially on TV, especially on Bullard. But, God, was (is?) he good.
Have a good day, y'all.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Day Won

So, on my first day back, all is ok. I have done all the 'house' things. Laudry is done, house was cleaned, bedroom cleaned and groceries were bought. I was the perfect mormon housewife. It feels good to get all the home things finished sometimes. To have an order and cleanliness to things, all perfectly placed and allighned so you can ruin it as the week goes is an odd habit of man. It was suggested than Insanity is nothing more than doing the same thing over and getting the same result. Well, cleaning is insane, as is eating and sleeping. And blinking. Everyone is crazy.
Tonight was the first night all of us shared the house at once. Not surprisingly, I didnt too much enjoy it, but I am feeling more of the team. Ironically, I am mulling putting a trade request in. This team is rife (is that a word) with selfishness. Nobody beleievs in their teammates in this locker room. I was to be the free agent that would come in and bring this team together, but I have not panned out that way. My style of play is more "Just get it done", whereas I've walked into a locker-room chemistry of "Me first. You will take away my ice-time". Well, I have my agent on the look. But I am a team player, and I will give my best here until a team is found for me, or until things settle, and I feel this team has a shot at a post-season birth. I just gotta give %110 and keep my head up. I do miss hockey.
Now it is night. I am amongst my Asian brethren, plotting the over-throw of whitey, writing my heart away. Things are ok in Toronto now. A good nights' sleep awaits in my clean bedroom. Time to go mess it up - again, unless I stop the cycle and don't.

Saturday, March 26, 2005

Things I Want To See

Scandanavia - Like Canada, only it isn't, which is it's greatest charm. Cold weather people are good people.
Moscow - All the history, blood, gore, and a dead guy with a clenched fist.
The Jets back in Winnipeg - The city lost more than a team. It was a source of pride and identity. The Universe has been unbalanced ever since.

'Queens of The Stone Age' Live - Josh Homme is music in it's purest sense. I want to give him my comedy cd and tour with them. Dreams...

Mayan Ruins - I think they were onto something. I suspect it would bring peace and serenity. It might make North America look even more disgusting

Peaceful Revolution - Just something that shakes it all up. A brand new way where the excess is shed. No weapons, just a bunch of people who say 'Fuck it', drop their stuff, and go somewhere better, without neccesarily going anywhere else.

London, many, many more times - I love that city. Culture. They advertise books the way we advertise beer. How cool is that? Parks, funny accents and women without bras. Like heaven, I say.

Auras - I believe in them, I can't see them. Talk about annoying. Granted, I can't say I'd do all that much good with that vision.

My Actions Making A Diffirence - 'Nuf said. Must take an action, first.

France - All the history, blood and gore to go with a musuem. I saw it when I was a kid, but who knew that stuff meant something?

A Hurricane - Mother Nature kicking our asses. I love it. The sheer power has filled my mind with awe, and I must see it.

Free Public Internet - This is costing me money to write. That's shitty. Free coffee would be good, too.

There is much more, but this list was fun to make. It gives me something to strive for.

And, to close, my friends' blogs contained quotes today. They are like my older brothers - and I, their little sister - and I have learned much from them. So, a quote to leave with:

"Great spirits have always found violent opposition from mediocrities. The latter cannot understand it when a man does not thoughtlessly submit to hereditary prejudices but honestly and courageously uses his intelligence."


Wednesday, March 23, 2005


Nice. I'm in Vancouver now. I have to fly through here to ge to Toronto, and I've been gifted with an 8 hour layover. Nice.
It's green here. I haven't seen green since I was in England. Yes, I was in Calgary for some of last summer, but I don't recall color. Color is difficult to see when your eyes are full of rage, working constrcution for an asshole who never pays you. Fuck you, Sponagle. Hope the money was worth your karma. But, in the serenity of here, it all seems to fade away. Not fully, though, I dig hating people for some reason. An enemy is as good for the soul as a friend sometimes.
I used to come to Vancouver all the time. Two or three times a year. It's been about a year since I've been here and I can't believe how much I like it. I totally forgot. There is such a great way about it. The people are friendly, but still brisk. People make eye contact, but not too much, and it doesn't smell like ass. Yes, I'm referring to you, Toronto. There's also a ton of Asian people, which works for me. Lord knows why I feel so safe around them. Maybe I'm just prepping for when China takes the bull by the horns. Go Math!
So, I'm going to enjoy my day. I'm off to Windsor via Toronto tomorrow morning, so I get to continue to sight-see. Sunday is T-day, back to Toronto, and whatever happens will. No matter what, there's always Vancouver, and when all fails, Chinatown is a $5 cab ride from my house.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

For Gods sake!

Turns out the next lesson is 'Don't assume it's easy to get on an airplane'.
Holy Fuck, I can't leave this city. The minute I press 'publish' on my last post, which to me was my 'see-ya' to here, I get a call. I can't leave Calgary until Sunday - if I'm lucky.
Let me explain something. I fly stand-by with Westjet. If there's a seat, I get it. Pretty simple and a nice treat to have. This can become complicated, however, by certain facotrs like 'Spring Break' and 'Competetitors going Bankrupt'. Sadly, these both are realities in the days since my arrival here, and there isn't a seat to be had. Pardon my language, but fuck x 3! You know what, swears don't do it now. Where's my damn stick I was yapping about? I want to hit something.
This makes no sense. It sucks further because I am booked to be in Windsor this weekend. Good weekend of comedy. With a buddy. Make some money. Now, no anything. Still here. I thought I was done here! What more am I to do? I really just want to get my life back on track, and do it in Toronto.
Anyways, who knows what happens when I press 'publish' this time? I'll be back to complain in a bit.

Mourning Pages

I find myself with not much to say today. I'm sure that'll change, but I find myself curiously quiet here. I've figured out alot about myself and my life in the past little while, and although it's said that knowledge is power, more importantly, I see the practice of knowledge as the only real power.
Life will change with the application of these new facts. I have learned the depth of my ability, my drive, my focus and my desire. I have also seen the ying to that yang, and that is my lack of discipline, my taking far too much shit, and my constant compromise of myself.
I haven't even scratched the surface of what I can do with this life, and really, there is nobody to blame but me. It makes me angry. I have always wanted to take everybody that is in my heart with me to this place, but I realize now I can't. It's for me and me alone. I can only hope that my life will continue to run parralell with those of whom I care for. Probably won't, though.
So, these mourning pages are just that. But with a silver lining. I don't know what I'm going toward, and I suppose it isn't going to be anywhere near easy, and sometimes it will be downright unpleasant and difficult, but it will be. I must work, I must stay humble, dedicated, focused, disciplined - and I must carry a big stick and show no fear in using it.
I should say that just about covers it. What will the next lesson be?
What you lose externally seems to end up inside you when it's all said and done. Throw it all away, and somehow, it'll all come back.

Sunday, March 20, 2005

An 'Uncle', an icon, a muse and the healing power of sports

I spent a good part of the weekend at the local comedy club. The feature act was not just any feature act, but a man who, to the majority of people in my age group, was an Uncle to all. Dave Coulier was in the Full House being one of America's Funniest People.
I'd seen him before. It was brief. I walked into the club, he was onstage talking about Daffy Duck's pants, I walked out. To say that I expected anything other than a disastrous spectacle of a man that once 'was' would be untrue. I expected, and wanted, the worst. Funny how life works sometimes, it always seems to give you what you were not expecting.
As I walked into the club this time, I saw the real life Uncle Joey working the room with a startling lack of conviction. It was almost saddening. I grew up watching this damn show every day. I've been exposed to the Tanner family more than Church. It would be no stretch to say I am more familiar with Dave Coulier/Uncle Joey than I am with Moses, Noah and, what is it, Pontious Pilate? I was a little taken aback that he didn't own the room. He could have. Me and 400 other televison-raised mid-twentiers were all sitting there, waiting for him to break out and say something like 'And fuck that episode where Michelle can't say Ice Cream right!...' or anything of that ilk. He never did. He stayed in his box. In his zone. If he was a car, he was going 80 in a 100. Why, I wondered? The Dave Coulier 2005 model should be a turbo. The questions were coming as quick as the impressions.
I should tell you, the non-existent reader, that I am a good read of people. I have been 'gifted' with this talent which is difficult to explain and according to science, doesn't exist. Simply put, look me in the eye, I can feel you. Weird, but reliable and accurate to this point. Anyway, as Dave (can I call him that?) left stage and walked by the table, we made a very good, direct eye-contact. Not Uncle Joey to 10 year old kid. Not comic to audience, not comic to comic. Just human to human. I felt a deep goodness and vulnerability. As it turns out, Dave coulier is a kind man, one who likely has no idea of the power of his status. I was completley shocked. It explained so much of what I've always seen. Not in over his head, just no desire to be anything but him. Inspiring.
After the show, Dave revealed another side to him. I'm not sure if many of you have ever hung out with a famous person in a group. It's an odd dynamic. Everybody could be talking about nuclear fission, and if the famous one burped, people would declare it genius and hang onto every digestive action that followed. It's really stupid and makes me feel sympathy for the celebrities. Anyhow, as the conversation went in an odd way, Dave (can I call him that?) started an idea for a game. Name the best hockey players for every number up to #99. I thought I knew alot about Hockey. Dave (I'll call him that) opened up a book of knowledge that would rival anybodies knowledge on anything. And with that book opening came open the publication that is Dave Coulier. A smile, a confidence, a sense of belonging. It was nice to watch. I left.
I returned Saturday to see what would be diffirent. Much was. We made the pre-show eye contact. Felt good. It was genuine, and I knew he was in a good place. The MC, rather excited with such a presence in the room, announces Dave to the stage as an honorary Canadian and extoles his mythical knowledge of hockey. If you are not Canadian, let me inform you that nothing has more weight in the Canadian psyche than foreigners with hockey knowledge. Walking on water is cool, but to Canada-people, water in it's frozen state and those who can play on it carries far more meaning. If you are from elsewhere and even know of hockey, you will be given a meal and rights to a second born. Something to do with the climate; Much like hot, but in really, really diffirent way, cold weather can fuck with your head.
Anyways, the audience erupts for Dave now. A standing ovation before he talks. I assume my post at the back of the room and watched it all go down. I note he has an extra step in his show. A little jump to his feet. But then, as the minutes elaspe, it wavered. It was as if he didn't believe he deserved it. If not for tact and the ability to tell right from wrong, I'd have jumped onstage, shook him and yelled, "Dave - I can call you that, right? - what the hell!? Why aren't you commanding this!? OWN IT! They all want you to conquer! They want to believe that you are worthy of their praise! YOU HAVE EARNED IT, NOW SEIZE IT!". But, I never did, and he never did. I just watched, and then I left.
I learned alot from him. Just be you. Turns out fame is nothing, an illusion that makes people stare blankly at you. Hockey is hockey, famous or not, NHL or not. Dave Coulier is Dave Coulier, not Uncle Joey, and Kimmy Gibbler is fake, too. He played a character on a show I watched because I was bored. He does comedy because he likes doing voices. He is as he is.
I learned alot from him for myself, too. Own that audience. They want it, that's why they are there. Their presence is their permission to take them on a ride. I will do that. And who better to teach me than the muse that inspired Alannis Morisette to write 'You Oughta Know'?
Time to make a jagged little pill.

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Hi, Marcus

Hey, man. Welcome aboard. My Blog, my rules. I can say hi to a reader if I want. Breaking down the 3rd (or is it the 4th?) wall.

Take a Risk

Take a risk. It's all you can do in life. Take one. Nothing risked, nothing gained. This is for you, the reader. I've been known to read my own stuff every once in awhile, too.

Go for it.

Stuck in Calgary

Ugh. The downfall of stand-by travel is that you only get to leave if there are seats for you to sit in. So, since it's Spring Break, thousands of students are now fleeing the location of their schools to go have fun and forget that they are constantly told how to think, learn and behave for an entire week - thus leaving me stuck here in Calgary for an extra day or two. Make that yet another reason that I hate the education system.

I didn't fare so well in school. I was a poor student at best. In Elementary, I refused to assimilate. In Junior High, I refused to stop joking around. In High School, I refused to stop being drunk or high. I hated it all with a passion that rivals my feelings towards jobs. It's a far worse scam - you don't even get paid. Sit and listen to a teacher that likely chose that profession because it required the least amount of University, and they get two months off. Now, there are some wonderful teachers out there. Those magical people who take the time to see past the currriculum and our constant horsing around to find a better way to teach and inspire. We all have had those teachers, the ones that motivated us to become the people that we are today. I have found, though, that the percentage of good teachers is pretty much equal to the percentage of fine people in all walks, so in fairness to all, I will continue to rip schooling apart.

My cousin once told me that there are two kinds of people in this world: Pig Fuckers and Shitters. I was 17 at the time, and I am still confused by his lesson. But it made me think, and I ended up coming to my own conclusion; There are two types of people, and they are, as I see it, Scholars and Thinkers. Thinkers do all the thinking and intellectual trailblazing, yell at and inspire the populace, feel the pain, embrace the love, make the music and write the books. Scholars read those books and falsify it as their reality, and then go on to be High School Vice-Principals. That's right, I'm talking to YOU, Mr. McDonald. Fuck you, look at me now. Turns out you can succeed without education. (admittedly my spelling could be better) Fukc you. My spirit is free. I am my own man. I walk my own steps for my own reasons. I don't need to yell at and threaten High Schoolers to feel like I man. I have the balls to do that to people of all ages. You're a piece of shit, old man.

I guess I'll put it this way. I could read all the books in the world about Brazil, but until I go and see Brazil, it's just a bunch of ideas in my head. I see scholars that way. Cramming their head with the true knowledge of the thinkers and proclaiming it as theirs, and who are we to doubt it? Check out that degree on the wall! And, Lordy, Lordy, just listen to the lesson that they are giving us from yet another book that they didn't write.

I hate those dirty Pig Fuckers. Or maybe they're the shitters. I don't know, I still don't understand what he meant. He's a real thinker. Maybe there is no diffirence. All I do know is that my seat on the next several planes to Torornto is full of school-system assholes, and there is nothing I can do about it. So, off to the bar....(sounds like high school all over again - I'm stuck in Calgary)

Friday, March 18, 2005

Back to the T.T.T.oronto

Think I have to be getting back to Toronto. Still, in my heart, I'd rather not, but you must do what you must do, and it seems to me I must return. I have shows to do and reposnibilities to meet and a life to live. Love Calgary as I do, I no longer live here.
It's been a good trip back. It seems I was really supposed to get back here. Things alligned quickly and unusually to get me here, and now I'm feeling that same pull 'home'. It's been good here. I got to see my family, see my friends, get my energy cleansed, get a DVD made. Things worked out. Funny things is, if I were to step on a plane right now, it would be a melancholic feeling that would fill me.
It was good here, but I still have no idea what to do with Toronto. I think I have to move out of my place. Just not too good there. It's not even bad, just, well, the fact I write about it and refer to a negative feeling should say it all. You see, much work still needs to be done before I can figure out what the hell I'm doing here. Hope God read the 'please help me get booked' line. That said, woke up to an offer to do this weekend in Kitchener, but guess who's sitting in Calgary complaining about no work! Ha!
So, to all the Calgary folk, thanks. It's been a blast. I must get home one of these days. My soul is slightly stronger from being here. Time to return to the place I'd rather not be.
But I still have a couple more days.......

Dear God

Dear God,

How you doing? I'm sitting in an internet cafe in Chinatown in Calgary. I seem to feel safe around and be comforted by Chinese People. Not sure why. Feel like telling me? Thank YOU there's over a billion. I'll sleep safe tonight.
I'm not very good at prayer. Short attention span. I start chatting with you and then my mind seems to wonder. So, I've decided to write to you. Hope it's ok if some people read it, but you can continue to mire me in anonymity if you wish and these letters will be between us. Nothing urgent tonight, just a tad lonely, and it's been said that you're everyhwere, so who better to chat to and ask questions. You're all-knowing, after all.
I don't want to see unhappy people anymore. They bring me down. I just want to do my thing, see the sights, roll with your flow, but everywhere I go, they seem to be sad. Head down. Scowl on. Now, I'm not blaming you. I'm not seeking a good ol' frog smite from the heavens. Just curious. What are they looking for and why have they not found it? Don't they see that everything is right in front of them? I've tried to show them sometimes, but they call me self-righteous (how do you spell that?) and to mind my own business, then I get sad and put my head down and scowl and become one of the unhappy people. Please make the worried scowlers happy.
I'm not sure what to do with my life at the moment. Any advice? I guess you see I quit my job. I thought I saw a sign from you, but I may have been drunk. No, I was drunk, can't fool you. But still, I felt it right to do. My thinking was it would be good to do to further pursue my dreams, which it's said you supply. And it's worked, somewhat. I am a diffirent man that I was before I quit. I am a better comedian since I quit, but there's more to life, right? I'm finding feelings and heart now. I like them as much as jokes. I guess it's all in front of me. If I can ask a favor, though, please no more job-jobs.
Not much else to ask you right now. Please look after everybody I care for, and even those I don't. There's way more in column 'B', sorry to burden you with so much work. I might be lying there - you'd know. We'll leave the imaginary reader to guess - it'll be our inside joke.
Thanks for the sense of humor, I need it every once in awhile. Thanks for the ability to grow a beard. Thanks for the free flights. That's a good one. Thanks for my family, thanks for my friends, thanks for the whole sin-overlooking, and thanks for thumbs. Good move.

Please help me get booked!


ps - That goal in Game 6 was in, right?


I don't ever want to have to have another job for the rest of my life, and to all of you, I wish you the same fate. The very idea of slugging away, doing something you hate for just enough money to keep doing it seems pointless to me. Going every day with that feeling in your gut that you would rather be anywhere but there seems to me to be against nature.
I've had 31 jobs, give or take a couple. 31 diffirent places that I happily walked away from. 31 places that paid me to do their dirty work. Litrerally so in some of those cases. 31 seperate rules to learn, 31 seperate rules to disobey.
'Working' sucks. The money can be good, but it's dirty money. Grinding it out to make the money you need. Second-thinking your instinct because if you act as you wish to, you will be fired. Why can't I tell a customer off? Because they have money. The North American way; money is greater than the person who has it.
I think all you can ask from life is to find a passion. Mine is stand-up. Writing is looking good, too. I would (and have) done these for free. Money never becomes a factor when passion and love are invloved. To me, 'Working' is doing an activity solely for the money. A passion is doing something because you want to. Passion beats work.
So, if you happen to read this before you go to the job you hate, quit! I can't offer you any money (unless you want to be my agent), but I can tell you that you will have a nice day, and nobody will tell you what to do, what to wear, how to act or how to behave. If everybody quit their jobs, everything would be free.
Imagine the possibilites; or at the very least, send me some money so I don't have to compromise again.

Thursday, March 17, 2005


I have a blog. This will be it. I will write things. I will spill my heart. I will share my soul. I will tell of things I want changed. I will share the things I love. I will speak of that which I love, and that which I am learning to love. I will declare war. I will demand death. I will ask for bloodshed. I will repent. I will sin. I will feel remorse. I will feel no remorse. I will take myself too seriously and not seriously enough. I will share. I will bare. I will care, it may wear, you may stare, I won't care.
I want to love. I want to be vulnerable. I want to be open. I want to be seen. I want to be the simplest mystery. My book is open now, except for when it's closed. I am here.
I want evolution, revolution, an end to persecution, and a friend or two.
I want to smile. I want to laugh. I like when you laugh. Maybe I can help.
I like me. I admire italics. I dig bold.

So, hello. This will be fun.