5:00 AM: Wherever he laid his hat was his home

I haven't posted in a few days, but I have this one in mind and I want to get it out before anything serious happens that demands blog attention. I'm tired and I've got a headache and there's no aspirin in the house. Also, a friend of mine just called Barack Obama a moron, which I found offensive. I corrected her by saying John McCain (eh eh eh eh) is a moron, Barack Obama (doo doo doo) is a n00b.

And that will be the last you hear about American politics in this entry. I'd like to be the one goddamn place you can go without having to think about that stuff. That, and the Olympics. Man, screw the Olympics. I'm Canadian, why do I care about the Summer Olympics? The Canadian Olympians sure don't; after a whole weekend they still have no medals. Of any kind. In anything. And I don't think they really have any hopefuls either. Just trying to conserve funds, I guess, for the snowboarding and hockey we've actually got pressure to win at.

I'd been a pretty mopey guy all last week, but over the weekend I decided to take off my sadpants and locate my balls. Maybe circumstances haven't changed but I could at least change my attitude about them.

It's been the wettest summer basically ever, which may have contributed to my stress/depression. I just keep reading the weather report: "Fuck, rain again??" It's like some pathetic joke, you know? Rain and rain... and hail. Last Thursday there was a flash hailstorm, which at least was entertaining as the massive chunks clattered off the roof of mom's car, we watched from the porch; they produced splashes in the puddles as they mingled with raindrops and collided on the asphalt. And then in the august sun they melted soon after they stopped falling.

But hey, that was Thursday; the weekend was different. During the deluge on Saturday night I learned a few things.

One: My umbrella is done.
Two: I will do anything to get myself out of the house on a Saturday Night to avoid watching Hannah Montana's Concert Film on the Movie Network. The Last Waltz it ain't.

So I went out for a walk in the rain with my crooked umbrella. Luckily, it stopped raining about halfway through. When I got home, there was mercifully an MSN message from Chris Ferg asking about Risk. Quickly, it was put together. Cary was in town, which is good because RyLai was at a bar to watch the George St. Pierre fight (or maybe he cared more about Lesnar but maybe not.) So the four of us got the game underway and put in Always Sunny in Philadelphia for good measure (Cary hadn't seen it.)

As far as games go, it was pretty inauspicious, especially since it was the first in almost two months. I was dealt almost exclusively in Asia (only one on each continent other than that) so I had to cluster and try to gain traction, which never happened. Cary got Europe, Chris Ferg got North America, CB got Australia and caused nothing but problems for me in Asia. Man, CB! Why you got to be like that!

We called the game before the 2:06 alarm, all citing exhaustion with the lack of progress and sensing it wasn't going to change. Also we kept getting a bit sidetracked watching the show.

I watched Clerks for the first time in a long while last night. I caught a few points I actually seemed to miss amongst all my hundred previous viewings. I'd forgotten what a massive influence that movie was on my writing, especially my early writing and Half-Past. At the same time, my attention was drawn to some of the awkward phrasings and stuff in the dialogue; lots of subclauses and asides in single monologues, you know. It was obviously a hallmark of the movie and it stands up, but there's a reason he doesn't write like that anymore.

I thought I had more but I can't focus on it by now. It's been a decent night though, a decent few days. I'm just taking care of stuff, you know?

Maybe you do. I feel a little spaced. I should go to bed.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott