M: Fucking and faking

Man, I have had a week. I've been contemplating everything. It all don't make sense, but in that way that all fits together perfectly. If I laid the details on your your head would explode. Your head would explode. Think about that. It would only hurt for an instant. But the repercussions would be too severe for me to allow it to happen. So no.

I'm just starting to lighten up on what ended up being a fairly grim Wednesday in the midst of what was an unremarkable but hardly uplifting week. I was bummed, and then I had a reason to be bummed.

I was so bummed in fact that I skipped my once-a-week 3-hour (usually more like 2 1/4 hour) session of 20th Century Am Lit. I felt like I just needed to get on a train and couldn't focus on class, so I did. And then once I started to get over it (on the train) I felt a little guilty for skipping AmLit, because I had actually read Prufrock and wanted to know about it. Guess I'll send one of those annoying bulk "Hey guys sorry I missed class can I sponge some notes?" e-mails. Nobody to blame but myself.

I got a text whilst in the library computer lab (where I spend as much time as I feel I can get away with.) I had made plans with Julie (the girl to whom I have occasionally alluded here on SWP) for Hallowe'en. I was looking forward to it, but was also nervous as all hell. I was trying to get over the part of my brain that was telling me "This isn't actually happening, dude," when she texted me to say she wasn't coming. Boo. I was both disappointed and relieved. Save it for later. Release me of my anxiety. The reason for her cancellation of course has nothing to do (directly) with me, but instead is due to a situation so complicated that, even if it were my place to describe it (it's basically not) it would lead to the above-described head-explosion. And I don't know about the rest of the readers of this blog, but Linda needs hers.

So I was a little bummed, but optimistic that we could work it out later, and just hoping she could get her situation worked out to satisfaction. I got on with my day and went to my Sci-Fi tutorial.

I've gotten two papers back this week. I mentioned the first - a fail. the one I got today was a 70-something (or maybe just 70, I haven't double-checked) and I feel worse about it. This is what really got me down. 120 papers in the whole goddamn class (well probably less) and mine is one of the 15 the Prof selects to mark on his own. Not that that made much of a difference, I'm just marveling at the odds. Prior to handing in my paper, I sought out my TA for some formal advice. He misheard my question and I misheard his answer, leading to that rare perfect storm of miscommunication that really fucks Scotto over. The whole thing was about footnotes, which should've been a simple matter. You need yer goddamn footnotes. Still, I wasn't liking mine and asked if I could forego them. The TA, as I said, misunderstood what I was asking, and provided the answer to the question he thought I'd asked. Then I went ahead and axed all my footnotes. Do not ask why. Thus I completed my paper and it was handed in for marking.

I wasn't feeling particularly proud of the paper and wished I'd left myself more time to write it properly - or cohesively. As it was, the jumbled mess I handed in got a B for content (hurray) and a C for format (not hurray) which included both structure and the matter of footnotes vis a vis a lack thereof inasmuch suchlike therefore. Ahem.

At first I was bitter, because the miscommunication I vaguely described was ultimately to blame for my stylistic faux pas. Ultimately, it probably cost me a few marks and I contemplated hashing it out with the prof. In the end, I've decided it just plain wasn't worth it. The footnotes, in the big picture, were a small symptom of the stylistic problem with the paper, and I know it. I resent the Prof's assessment that I "need badly" to visit the Writing center. The best he should have said is that "Based on this one paper it seems you would benefit greatly from the writing center," and I surely would have. The 80's I got on my first-year papers suggest I have a decent handle on essay writing. I just wasn't with it this time around. And I accept that as my own fault and will take it as a lesson for next time, when I will blow them the fuck away.

The problem I seem to have lately is an extreme vagueness in assignment papers. I look at them and I can't see what they want, beyond "a paper of such-and-such length... on the subject of this course's study." Three papers this past month, each slightly less a car wreck than the last, if I were to estimate. Although the jury is still out on the History one.

This is where my last-week consideration of "what if I dropped out?" pops up just a little bit. Who needs the hassle? And the answer is, I suppose I do, until something better comes up. We'll see. We'll see.

Man, I'm just a walking identity crisis ain't I?

I stopped typing a while and left it there while I lay out on the couch. It was... nice.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott

L: Eliminate and embrace

"I'm going to fail," I told Claire early today before Shakespeare. "I'm not eager to find out how badly I failed." She'd already gotten hers and urged me to get mine. I told her, well okay, but let's not kid ourselves.

Sometimes, you just know you've failed. and when you know it, it's easier to accept. I knew I'd failed before I even handed this bad boy in because I had no direction and no effort to spare on it. It was just a 10% assignment I couldn't be arsed to put my heart into. When I got it back, it was 44/100.

It's important, for self-improvement sake, to know when you've done wrong and how to improve. I didn't even read the remarks. I did the same thing when I performed abysmally on an early Cinema Studies paper last year, just put it away and thought "Okay, let's do better next time."

Other than that it was a good day. I met some new friends - that is to say, I talked to people for the first time, one a girl from Film History I ran into on the subway, ("How about that Eisenstein?") one a dude I knew from philosophy last year and I just realized was in my sci-fi film class. Also in that class, a former recurring character on Degrassi: TNG, but I've not spoken to him. I'd hopefully try to say something interesting and not creepy, like explaining why I know who he is.

I had a test in Sci-Fi; I hadn't studied in any important way for it, but did go over what papers I had prior to class, to refresh myself on certain authors of articles and directors of films. It came in handy. I actually feel like I did really well on that test. In addition to getting most if not all of the short-answer questions, I felt like I really brought it to the essay, where in a mere 300 words or less, I dissected the Cold War readings of The Day The Earth Stood Still.

Go me.

Not much of an interesting day beyond that. Pending approval of my references, I got the HMV job, so I swung by there on my way home to get my paperwork.

I could use more sleep.

Think I'll go for that. Keep on rockin'
-Scott

K: Sans universe

Sometimes I think I may be going deaf - overuse of earbuds being the culprit. The fact is though the opposite is quite true. I hear everything very well. When I play Guitar Hero, I have to turn the TV volume down to 1 so that the sound isn't blaring. Every morning I am awakened by the sound of aggressively slammed drawers against the wall into which I bury my face. There's no quiet in this house, no quiet in the world, maybe no quiet in my head. Maybe that's why I'll always come back here, eh? And so I put in the earbuds, turn up the iPod to have some control over the noise I'm hearing. There's not much the world can do to overcome MC5's Kick out the Jams when I let it go.

I've been having ideas for stories lately. Not long stories - if I were to do NaNoWriMo this year (God help me if I do) I'd write a collection of lengthy short stories. That's probably against the regulation but I'm not sure I care. After all, I wrote a memoir last year, and that's not part of the regulation. I may cheat by having all the stories focus on one character. I've only got a couple ideas so far. Both kinda cribbed from real life but with a fictional bent. For instance the first is called "Friday Nights at the Lost Lounge." You can imagine what it might be about. All the same, the events wouldn't be true to life and I'd have to make it a roman a clef (the real people are replaced with fake names, like in On the Road.)

It's a shame, too, that I should suddenly be so interested in creating things. I've left so many pots bubbling on the stove it's a wonder the kitchen hasn't burned down. There's Melancholy, and Curiosities, for starters. The memoir, which I never really intended or wanted to finish. A half-remembered novel idea called A Year of Holidays. A screenplay idea called Brainwreck. Other stuff. I was once writing a screenplay called "Work in Progress." I started it late in Grade 12 but abandoned it, particularly when I started working on Half-Past: The movie. I later realized it was basically the same movie as Forgetting Sarah Marshall, but with 1/100th the funny. I had to let it go. It was about a writer (not a composer) who hates his day-to-day work (greeting cards, not TV series) and after getting dumped by his long-term girlfriend ends up in a period of creativity, especially as he meets a dream girl-type. It's not exact, obviously, and FSM is very much involved with its minor characters and Hawaiian setting, but it definitely put me off how the generic beats of the story were done way better there. I'm not saying I'll never do it. I had a fair bit done when I left off on it, then my harddrive melted and I lost it all. So I'd re-build it from scratch, probably funnier, thinking of FSM, years from now. I have enough ideas to sustain me, should I be in a position to get them done... but that's the problem. I need to know what I want to be writing at what time. That's why re-writing Half-Past was so much fun, because for the first time in years, I was writing for a purpose, not just an exercise. At the same time, it was a bit of a cheat, since it was already written anyway.

Then again... isn't everything already written? Haha, that's a convenient way of seeing things. Like it's all in my brain waiting to be recorded. No, I do a fair bit of writing on the page in the moment.

My favourite writing experience I ever had was when Ana asked me to come up with an idea for a movie, back in the summer of 2004 at the beginning of this blog. For the first time I had a reason to be writing. I worked obsessively on it and was pretty proud of the result. If I were to revisit Summer at Sixteen it would bear pretty thorough revision, (could be much funnier, for example) but I still like it a fair bit overall. And I'm proud of myself for having written it.

I had no idea I was gonna go off on that tangent. Neat. That's what I like about SWP, I rant and rave and eventually somebody reads it. I haven't been up to much lately. Eric came home, surprisingly, for the weekend. We watched two movies - Young People Fucking and Fight Club, the latter of which I was commanded to (after 8 years of putting it off) by a girl. The things I do for women; although watching a movie is hardly high up on my "annoying responsibilities" list.

It was cool hanging out with him for a while again. I don't sit around and miss him but it's nice when he comes home and I have someone to talk to around here, to joke around with. We went out to Valu Village yesterday to assemble the necessary items for my Lebowski costume; it turned out pretty well. He also got himself some facial hair for his costume, a Mexican dude. The man simply cannot grow a mustache.

Anyhow. I was hanging out with Amanda yesterday. I got the HMV job. That's good news, although it'll probably end up stressing me out, money is good. Plenty of people work and go to school. I just need to keep from running myself ragged.

I should end this entry soon. I have a lot to take care of today, including some extracurricular writing (reviews mostly, nothing I've described here,) and a lot of reading. Goddamn am I behind on reading. For reals. I hope the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock isn't too long.

And the Shakespeare. My God am I behind.

Took a nice walk last night in the cool October weather. So many stars out. Somewhere nearby, some kids were having a party...

Keep on rockin'
-Scott

J: Oh how the ghost of you clings

Partial identity crisis and general insecurity notwithstanding, things are okay.

I was hanging out with Joe this morning. It was my day off and he's on reading week. He doesn't have class on Thursday either but he usually works, so the scheduling worked out in a remarkable coincidence. We didn't hang out long. I met him at Oakville Place at about 11 (a little late, I had to do some unexpected cleanup before I left the house,) and had a job interview at 12:30. When I got there, Joe was hanging with Andrew, an old friend of ours who can often be seen at A&W. Eventually, he split, and Joe and I just kinda hung out and chatted, the usual routine. We talked about his entry into the songwriting competition, and the passage of time, and he related the story of how he met Viki, which I hadn't heard in its full rendition before. It's actually freakishly ideal. Like, that doesn't happen to anybody, yet it did. If I wrote their story and called it an original, you'd just laugh and go, "Man, it doesn't happen like that. It just doesn't. This story is not believable and therefore not any good." But it's true and for that, good to hear.

He asked me about some of the stuff I've been up to. Of course he reads this. I didn't have many details about it; all I said was it's real casual, and summed it up thus: "It's just nice." He agreed. It's just nice.

I dunno, man. I'm really just trying to keep up. Modesty prevents me from disclosing, like, all the details, and also because it's damn complicated. I don't generally do well with complications. But still. It's just nice. And I'm trying not to be a jerk. It's hard.

After that, the interview. Hm. It went well. I stumbled a bit, trying to draw on my previous experience. There was one answer I did botch but she seemed forgiving. It would've been so much easier if Mike were still around but he's off 'til January. But it was still relatively painless. She asked me to name two classic movies, albums and video games I thought everyone should own. My answers were Back to the Future and Star Wars trilogies, Abbey Road and Exile on Main Street (thne I paused and said, 'maybe Let it Bleed.') and Mario 3 and Goldeneye. These aren't necessarily my favourites or the best ones in my opinion, but they're the sorts of things I think everyone should own and enjoy. But that's me.

The interview went positively and I left feeling confident it was going to work out. They'll call on the weekend I guess and I'll know then. Either way, I'm good. Actually it would probably be smarter for me to just plain not work, but a man's gotta take responsibility now and again. I've work less than anybody I know, (outside my family,) and while I don't mind that nor do I think I can change it, at least I know I'm capable of doing something. Every now and again.

As much as it made for an amusing story, it was a little embarrassing to get fired this summer because I was totally without options for new employment. It was really slim pickings and facing facts, my enthusiasm was not in it. The summer of wasted potential I called it, repeatedly, to anyone who asked. I explained partly why to Joe this morning. I glossed over some details, but no really important ones. I also told him that someday, I'd tell him the story of how I was once the other man. Of course I didn't have time, the story is about 4 years long. Well, with several timecuts.

I walked around town all day, got comics, went grocery shopping... lounged around after dinner. I've been re-reading Watchmen. This is one of the things I discussed with Gabby when we ran into each other. I know that sounds odd because she's a very attractive girl, but she said she was doing the same. We talked about how many people were jumping onto it now that the movie is coming out. The trailer before Dark Knight was very impressive indeed. It's even on the shelves at HMV. I think it's part of the graphic novel course at my school (still bitter about not getting into that.) It's interesting too because it's a very complicated book and not at all conventional. So who knows how much these people are getting out of it. I have to wonder about their reactions. I have to wonder if it will be well-received at the cinema. If the theatres are ready for Watchmen. I lent it to my dad recently, he seemed okay with it, although he still preferred V for Vendetta. Well that's his thing.

Life can be strange sometimes. All the time.

I can be stressed out at school, I can be confused my direction, fearful of the future, uncomfortable in social situations... but it doesn't really suck to be me. Things have potential.

Tell me, what did they say about potential? Doug? Ah yes. Capitalize.

Well burn my biscuits and keep on rockin'
-Scott

I: Personality crisis

I'm gonna get a little more philosophical today than I have recently.

I'm here at the Innis computer lab. It's been sort of my base of operations this year. Last year I alternated, depending on the day, between this and EJ Pratt, but I don't have as many classes by Pratt nowadays. I'm trying to figure out what I mean to do with myself. In the short term, in the long run. Just your usual identity crisis. This is far from the first, far from the last.

Not even a crisis. I'm not freaking out. I just don't know. I met up with Alyssa today, the first time in nearly a year we had seen each other face to face. I didn't have that much to say for myself and began to muse aloud about what I might do with my future. They weren't pre-prepared remarks - frankly I had no idea what we were going to talk about, only trusting (pretty much rightly) we would fill an hour or so with decent conversation. I speculated on the likelihood of discontinuing my U of T experience. Not immediately, mind you. Just wondering you know, what if I found something else to do? A job, a path? After all, the only reason I came here is that I lacked one after Sheridan. I just knew I didn't want to go try to be a journalist. I'm not saying I'll never be one, nor that I don't want to be one now. (Admittedly, that stuff isn't as fresh in me as it was at the time but anyway.) And what's the use of wracking up a shitload of debt if I find something better to do? That's just speculation, though. The reality is simpler: I haven't got anything better to do and I am living a very conventional life as a student.

But that's where the trouble lies. My student life is only one of several lives I seem to see myself living lately, in the future or present tense. It's just one of the things I do and not with any particular urgency, or as much interest as I'd like. I'm kinda detached. I don't hate it, I'll keep doing it, but what is it really? A way to fill the days and get credibility. My dad recently asked me, when I told him I was figuring on majoring in English and minoring in Cinema and History, what I wanted to do. I guess my only response could be... what else can I do? I'm still trying to hone my craft as a writer but admittedly, I don't do as much writing as I used to, not even close. I just think about what I could be writing and how I could go about it.

All the same, I'm here. I was hoping I could make the most out of it with the play but nobody's gotten back to me about it one way or the other. But that just brings me to my next point. It's about time.

Half-Past, after all, is very much a product of my high school life. It's a damn good play, I still like it, but my memories of doing it are very densely concerned with people from high school, many or most of whom I don't see on a regular basis, (Alyssa) haven't in a long while, (Ryan) or possibly never will again (Neabel.) But I go back to it because, at 16, I wrote what I still consider to be the best thing I've done. How about that.

I exert a lot of energy trying to keep ties with people I might otherwise lose. The coffee with Alyssa is a great example of that, because it did take some finagling to manage to meet up with her after a year without a real in-person conversation. It's in going to Hamilton when I can, or my recent phone call with Robyn or coffee with Amanda or going to see Joe play whenever I can. I have a few friends here at U of T, some of whom I have gone to such lengths to see. I was hoping the play would get me an opportunity to find more people. I don't even know. All these things and people are important to me.

What I'm saying is, I need to figure out how I want to live my life; if commuting or even being at school is right for me, or if I just feel like a guest, a non-entity. If I should just chain myself to my desk and do all the writing I want to and try to make it work. If I should just keep stalling.

It's confusing. This rant hasn't done anything but make that a matter of public record.

It doesn't help that I don't really know what the problem is... that I've said a bunch of stuff and I don't even know what's wrong, if anything. I don't even know if I'm bothered by any of it or if I'm in a bad mood or worried by anything. I just... am.

But... whatever. Keep on rockin'
-Scott

H: Passable, possibly placebo.

It's been a busy boring couple of days. Man, why do I even write anymore? Life is just dull boring continuity and status quo. If I didn't feel such loyalty to my readers I'd just axe this website and let the archives disappear in a cloud of smoke never to be reminisced over again (I do so from time to time.)

I ran into my old friend Gabby on the platform the other day. We always tend to run into one another at the GO station, usually when she's running late, since she's a receptionist somewhere in Toronto and needs to get there way before I do. As always happens when we bump into each other, she told me interesting things, like how she's going to Chile for a month, or how she flirted her way out of getting fined on the train for not punching her ticket three times in a month.

I got a mysterious text last night. It said, "I miss you!" I had no idea who it was from, so I made a guess and guessed wrong. Kind of embarrassing. Eventually I found out it was from Robyn, which prompted me to call her on my cell, and spend a while wandering around the football field catching up with her. Of course, this cost a fair bit of money, but it was nice anyway. It was good to check in and catch up and everything. Many people I miss and don't get enough of a chance to talk to.

I got that interview at HMV for Thursday. I just need to bring my reference numbers, and also I think I'll bring my schedule because... well, look. Common sense suggests I probably shouldn't even try to cram a job into my school life. I'm hoping I can just work weekends, especially since working the mall on weekends is just awesome hours since it closes so early. But we'll see how it works out.

Man, I need to get more reading done.

This has been kind of a short, casual entry. Not much more to say.

Keep on rockin
-Scott

G: Suddenly you know my name

How much do I rule? Don't answer that. I'm high on myself right now, and I don't want no bringdowns.

I didn't really have anything to do today. I had re-borrowed Amanda's DVD of Freaks & Geeks just for kicks and have been burning through it all weekend, at a weirdly faster pace than I ever did Lost. Admittedly, this is a far less intense viewing experience but they're both hourlong shows, so go figure.

It was in this idleness that I decided to remind myself that I had a Film History paper due at some point in the not-too-distant future. It was upon further investigation that I realized the "not-too-distant future" was indeed tomorrow. This had me really bummed, for several reasons, not the least of which was my total lack of preparation. Also, the fact that the paper was due on Monday, which sounds appealing, but that's only the first of three sessions each week. Admittedly it gives me more time to focus than if it were due on Tuesday or Wednesday. I miss last year, when everything was always, with only a few exceptions, due on Friday.

The paper called for me to compare two lengthy passages about the origins of cinema. Not being much of a textbook reader I did my best to pull out the salient points and try to formulate some kind of mental thesis. Once I had this, of course, it was type type type. This happened around 9:00, and I hit ctrl+P at 10:40. 5 pages double-spaced isn't really all that hard for a wordy motherfucker like me to whip up. My recent entry, "D: It Hits Real Quick" was just under 4 pages at that rate, and I didn't have any source material to cite. I don't know how good the paper is - I always seem to dog it on early assignments like this one (and my other recent pieces) even though they may be vital to my ultimate mark. I guess it's just my way of testing the waters, seeing how lazy I can be without getting burned. Getting burned the first time usually sets a decent precedent, especially since the more important stuff comes later, and you really wanna be sharp for that.

It hadn't been much of a day before that, nor much of a weekend. I had kinda wanted to go to Cary's and drink, but I had no interest in climbing back on the GO train and CB had no interest in driving, as he had midterms to deal with. I don't personally see the connection between a Monday midterm and a Saturday drink, but then again, I'm not the one with the car. In some other dimension - all possibilities somehow merit their own dimension - I probably went, had some drinks and some laughs, crashed on the couch, then went home weirdly early for no good reason, exhausted. I may or may not have had an awkward run-in with any number of Cary's Mac friends, or met a new one, for all I know. That's neither here nor there. As it is, I ate dinner late, watched several disks worth of Freaks and Geeks, and passed out on the couch repeatedly.

Yeah, somehow, I managed that one repeatedly.

I was pretty exhausted. I don't sleep the way I ought to on account of noise outside my room. I'm too sheepish to bring it up, but damn do I gotta deal with a lot of early-morning noise. What happens is that there's a lot of noise from 6-7, and I'm up for some or all of it, and then I fall back asleep until 7:45 when my alarm goes off, and this interruption of my sleep - combined with the brevity of my return to sleep - just makes me groggy. So fuck. On weekends like this, where mom and Tim are here rather than at his place, it hurts more, because this is supposed to be my sleepy time.

Anyway, I did the usual mall thing with Manda before heading to Toronto. Why, in spite of all I just bitched about, regarding the GO, would I go to Toronto on my day off? Because gosh darnit, free video games. The day before, RyLai had alerted me to a gaming expo thingy at Yonge-Dundas, and why not go play Guitar Hero World Tour before it comes out? So we did that for a while, I sang (badly, but you couldn't hear because they were blaring bad music) and beat the guy running the Buzz kiosk at his own game (although admittedly, the game ended before the last round and I happened to be in the lead.) We also got some free stuff and played this upcoming PS3 game LittleBigWorld (or something to that effect) which was actually pretty fun. Also Gears of War 2, where we laughed at this poor kid trying to get online in this game that hasn't been released yet.

Also, a war of words on stickers on a wall.

The day ended with him showing me his place and then me rushing back to the station to miss my train, get home an hour late and then delay even further in making dinner. Brando, recently enthralled by Saints Row 2, seemed neither to notice nor care.

I need to get my bearings. Quite a bit to deal with these days. Hopefully nothing I can't handle...

Keep on rockin
-Scott

F: You don't even know your eyes are open!

I could use an apple or something.

I realized recently my life really does lack a balance of produce. I occasionally get the sandwiches at Wymilwood and I eat the salads, but really. We have some extra cash for groceries these days, maybe I oughtta buy a small bag of apples. Not something to bust your applebag about. Har har.

My cholesterol can't be that great, although my weight remains steady. This is done by eating unhealthy foods in moderate proportions. I never been a glutton. Caffeine addict yes, overeater no.

The other realization I came to recently concerns what I am going to spend my future doing. Specifically, the near future, and mostly my free time. See I applied at HMV again this year, and based on experience and recommendations it looks like a good chance I'll get the job. But I'm in school so much I could only work three, four days tops, until exams. And also I'm hoping to be putting on a play, which may or may not demand some of my time, depending how involved I seek to be (fairly involved.)

So there's that. Time management issues, my main nemesis, partly because I'm such a giant procrastinator anyway. I used to procrastinate by writing in this blog. Now I procrastinate from writing in this blog. Go figure! The small wonders of life. My distractions have become burdens. I'm pretty messed up. There are things to review and comics to draw and I'm playing Guitar Hero and refreshing my e-mail. I'm insoluble, whatever I mean by that. Been writing poetry, fairly prolifically lately. An understimulated overtaxed mind seeking escape. See, I'm still doing it here.

But there's a bigger story here, one I have put off telling because I didn't know how to tell it (I don't know how to tell a story - there's a new one.) And because I was worried it wasn't substantial. I've since figured out the score. Time to let it out. Those three words will come as no shock to anyone who pays attention to my unintentional but very much existent recurring themes, so here they are:

There's this girl.

Well that about sums it up, hm? Well this isn't starry-eyed "Oh if only" hypothetical "wouldn't it be nice" good vibrations teenage beach boy love, no sir nor madam. In fact it's mostly lust with a hearty appreciation for one another, something I ain't heretofore experienced prior. So let's take it from the top and try to underline why this is unique.

I met her online. I always been skeptical of the online scene, because I had met no really good prospects there. Mostly it was just impregnable with bitches and hoes. Or else I'd find a potential lead, wring it dry for conversation and find neither of us had the energy to sustain it. Meeting someone online is not ideal, but sometimes it's the only time you can be sure a girl wants to be met. And like a romantic fool - or a quixotic one - I kept trying because I had to figure, in that miasma of random girls, there was... something. And, three weeks ago, that was what brought me to this one.

So yeah, met her online. She lives quite far away. It's not serious, but at the same time... it's a shitload more serious than anything I've been involved with in many years. So we've made arrangements to meet on Halloween. It's got me right freaked out, on account of this girl is pretty damn intense. But shit, I been living like a monk for four years and some, with intermittent interruptions, the last over 6 months ago. It's like I haven't swum in three years, but I'd as soon get on the high dive as stick my toe in. A more negative metaphor: It's like I was just hired at Tim Hortons and expected to serve the early evening rush at Sheridan without any actual training. I hope it doesn't turn out the same way that did.

So obviously I've been distracted lately. I should focus a bit more.

I had a few papers this past week, and I'm not done yet.

Nothing much else of interest happened today... I finished watching Lost season 3, but that's about it.

We'll see what the future has in store... we'll see...

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

E: Harsh winds and acorns

Ah, here I sit in Innis computer lab, cussin the world for feelin' drab.

I haven't checked in in a while. Life's been getting me down a bit. I told myself at the beginning of the year that I wasn't gonna stress. I almost made myself a liar. I forgot that you have to at least try to stay on top of things. I've been far too lassaiz-faire. It doesn't help that I spent the weekend in a mental deadzone just trying to keep from being zombified. After a grueling nature walk, we all just kinda came home and collapsed. Much of the weekend was spent watching It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia on Eric's laptop. While dad was away Eric ruefully vowed to gt his stuff together for next time. Traffic was a bitch on the way home, too.

I had a paper to write. I didn't know where to begin or what I wanted to say until last night - it's due today. I skipped some classes to get this done. I also skipped a class to vote yesterday. That's one of those things I have to get under control. With my schedule the week can seem like a long slog but I've got to remember how much of it is essential, or necessary, or at least recommended. This has just been a bad week. I've felt off a step. I'm not the only one.

Part of my skipping today involved getting to the train station somewhat late - about an hour - and running into Doug. It's always nice to run into someone I rarely see, get the update, and talk life. Like me he's a commuter, but he feels it doublebecause the commute to Hamilton is unpleasant, and he works. Bummer. I was thinking about getting my old HMV job back. I'm not sure whether the ship has sailed - might as well check it out tomorrow. My old manager is on leave so they have a temporary manager in the store. Unfortunate, since Cooper was one of the few managers I ever had that I really got along with.

I just need to weather another paper and relax a bit, keep up with my readings. Life is just grinding and grinding me these days, even little things that should roll off me seem to pile up. I wonder about the play, whether it will go ahead. I wonder if I can actually get Cary to help direct.

I've got to find my balance. Haven't had much to say today, I'll try to make life more interesting in the near future.

Keep on rockin
-Scott

D: It hits real quick

Sunday morning in North Bay. Thanksgiving yet again. As it seems it ever shall be.

It ain't so bad. Saturday's a long drive, Monday's a hustle to do the same. Usually we can find a way to fill the middle day. The weather's fairly gorgeous so I think it will be a nature walk of some sort. I wouldn't mind. I'm here on my dad's work laptop - he was kind enough to set me up a profile, sensing how deprived I was being of technology (something appears wrong with my uncle's PC, haven't asked what.) I guess my only realy problem with being here is that I have a paper due Wednesday and this is time I could really use to work on it. I'm trying to formulate a plan to not be totally fucked; it will probably involve skipping at least one class on Tuesday.

Friday was an interesting day, sorta. It began with a girl falling on me. I'd crossed Bloor heading for Shakespeare class and this girl was coming up toward my direction on her bike. She tried to squeeze between the curb and a taxi but it was too narrow and her handlebar hit the cab's sideview mirror. She took a tumble. I reached out to break her fall with one arm, kept my coffee steady with the other, her bike landed on my leg, giving me a bit of a limp for a while. She dusted herself off, told everyone she was okay, and rode off, probably embarrassed. I've been in that situation before. You're so shaken up you just want to flee the scene. The cab driver, for what it's worth, came out to check.

The classes of the day passed in their uninteresting way. I had to hand in a really bad paper on Midsummer Night's Dream. I've done things half-assed before, but this was the first time I'd gone quarter-ass. It wasn't that long, but probably should've been by like a page, and I had no idea exactly what they were expecting me to say. The details were sketchy and unfortunately for me I neglected to schedule any face-time with my TA. C'est la vie, right?

I made some small talk with Claire about, you know, Thanksgiving. She asked what I would be doing, and then I asked the same, given she's an international student that answer was bound to be slightly more interesting. At some point I mentioned my brothers and she said she's imagined me as having a sister, which I found an interesting remark. No idea why, but there you are.

Canadian Lit was tedious, not least because I have not read the poems we are currently going over. I probably ought to get my stuff lined up.

The important part of the day, which I'd been looking forward to all the while, was submitting the play. I got some duotangs for the three copies I'd printed out, and set down to fill out my application. I made the plot summary kinda corny, because there's still not much of a plot, and when they asked if I would direct it, my answer was the equivalent of an ambivalent shrug, "Yeah maybe, if you need me to."

I went over to VUSAC and found a girl eager to take my submission, and another guy submitting his. When I walked out, I felt a buzz. It could've just been one of those things where I said I was going to do it and then didn't and sat around wondering "Man that would've been great." And maybe I would've written the play anyway and just sat around pleased with myself and not wanting to risk going through with it, but here we are.

On my way home, I stopped off at the LCBO at Union, to pick up a gift. It was Chris Ferg's birthday and I figured I'd do him something nice, so I got him a gift card, because I thought "Well I don't want to tell him what to drink."

So I went over there around 8. I was doing finger math on my way over and realized that the time between early September and now is probably the longest I've been away from that house in years. We hung out a while watching Deal or No Deal while people arrived. As often happens, the party separated into upstairs and down, with downstairs being more raucous and drinking gamey, and up being more relaxed and conversational. Favouring the upstairs one makes me feel a little old but there's a time for everything. Lots of politics talk, especially since CB and Hetherington were around. I'll be glad when we can all just shut up and get back to status quo.

I talked up the play somewhat. Cary expressed some interest in coming out and directing the play, which I think might be a good idea since I'm always resistant to being the voice of authority. If we can make the scheduling work, it might be fun.

After a few beers and some goodbyes - including one that saw Cassie on her way to Muskoka to pick up her sister, a 3 hour trip - I headed home. I got to bed after 3 and got up barely in time to be stepping out of the shower when my dad called and said he was in the driveway. After stopping off to pick up my other brother, we headed on our way. It was a longer trip than usual due to traffic and a speeding ticket, the first I ever saw my dad incur.

More later. Can't spend the whole weekend on a laptop...

Keep on rockin'
-Scott

C: I'd love to turn you on

I was just about ready to pack up my Beatles kick for safe keeping until this morning. It was my day off and I was drifting comfortably out of one of the nicest sleeps I've had in weeks when the radio came on and said John Lennon would be 68 years old today had he not been assassinated in 1980 (nor, one would assume, in any of the intervening years.) Happy birthday, John. The radio then played Instant Karma. It reminded me of one last story. And then maybe I'll stop talking about the fershlugginer Beatles for a while.

I decided to visit the Bob Miller book room and stock up on Shakespeare between classes yesterday. I had planned to buy the books as I needed them, but I figured what's the point, and grabbed as many as I could manage. The Bob Miller is a weird place; more businesslike than the comparatively intimate Women's Bookstore, but quiet like a museum. The woman who works the register speaks in a near whisper. Nearer than near. I was looking for a copy of Richard III when I heard this odd, haunting soft jazz tune. I usually hate that easy listening junk, but this one caught my ears and I knew why once the woman's vocals kicked in. I'd just added it to my iPod. I smirked as she sang, "I... should've known better with a man like you... that I would love everything that you do..." It's a catchy but minor song and as always proves the adaptability of the early Beatles repertoire. A man's voice sang the middle eight, "And when I tell you that I love you... you're gonna say you love me too-oo-oo-oo-ooo..." Anyway, that wasn't the story. It got me thinking about the story.

The Beatles were a top-notch live act when they were playing balls-to-the-walls gigs in Hamburg and Liverpool. They really knew how to get the crowd going. But by the time Beatlemania hit, they were playing gigantic venues with underpowered amps to a mob of screaming girls, and couldn't hear themselves play. This got them a little lazy with their rehearsal habits, especially since their entire lives at that time was touring and recording, not much else. Exhausting. So by the time Beatlemania hit Japan and they played a show at Budokan Hall (a massive controversy in and of itself,) they were rudely informed of their sloppy performance habits when they learned that Japanese fans, unlike Americans, are culturally more respectful, and tend to remain silent throughout an entire performance, and applaud after. I guess the lesson is, don't get complacent.

I had to replace my earphones today. I found they (specifically the right one) fritzed out on Tuesday morning. I went through that day annoyed. It's kinda tough dealing with the wait between classes, the city, and especially the trainride without the audio distraction. The next day I used some old headphones of Eric's, giant DJ-style ones unlike the earbuds I favour these days. Great sound, but Eric stopped using them because they had a similar problem. You've gotta jimmy the plug to get the sound to work right, but it did eventually. Still important, since music is a bigger part of my life than sports, school and other human beings all combined.

It was a fairly uninteresting day, all the usual classes, tutorials, American Lit... it was raining but not all that hard. By the time I got out of American Lit, it was a warm, clear night. Gorgeous. The kind of night you've got to appreciate before they're gone for the winter.

The weather's going to be nice this weekend, at least around here. hope it's okay in North Bay too. Hhrm.

Today, my day off. Good day, although I did a half-assed stab at mowing the lawn. Still pretty relaxing. Then again, when I tried to go exchange my earphones, and they didn't have my kind so they gave me a different kind that don't stay in too well, especially on a windy day like today. Also, on my way home, an SUV pulled up on the sidewalk in an apparent attempt to mow me down in cold blood. That's the only explanation I can come up with for this INSANE, DANGEROUS, INCONSIDERATE, ILLEGAL move. He had to (wanted to) pass someone at the turning lane outside Oakville place, and decided it was appropriate to pull up on the fuckin' sidewalk to get down Trafalgar a half a second sooner. I'm burnin' with rage. Fuck. Could'a been a mom with a stroller or some such.

I've been trying to work on this paper. The guidelines are kinda vague and I don't want to do it, but it's due tomorrow. Oh the life of a university student...

...guess I'd better get to work.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott

B: She sings along, she knows the words

So I'm sitting here at Pratt not really having anything to say. It's 7 days into October and I haven't had much to talk about, at least not that I've felt totally completely sure I want to talk about. Maybe it's a sign I'm, like, outgrowing this thing (perish the thought) or maybe I just don't know what I want to say.

Most likely, however, is that my life has been rather dull lately. I've been throwing myself headfirst as much as I can into writing (re-writing) this play. I've got a lot of reading I really should be doing. I ride the trains back and forth. Life isn't a thrill but it's not a bummer either.

Last week we watched 2001 a Space Odyssey, which was long but not boring nor hard to follow. It was a truly amazing film despite the minimalistic plot and interpretive leaps it asked of the viewers.

Friday, prior to Beatles night, was my dad's birthday. Some of us (less me than my brothers) tend to forget what a sharp guy he is. We were talking casually about the American election and Sarah Palin and stuff. We were all kinda laying into her, when dad brought up something I'd never heard, some anecdote about how quick of a study she is. Of course he followed it up with "Then again, that still doesn't mean I'd vote for her." Of course not. She talks like a re-re. I mean, not because of her accent or anything, just the things she says are moronic. It's always like she was handed these talking points but didn't quite remember them so she re-connects the words in ways that don't make any grammatical sense. Also, she's fairly condescending.

You could probably level the same charge at Obama, but at least he doesn't alienate people (deliberately.) I always hesitate to call Obama "well-spoken" because apparently that's an offensive thing to say about a black man. As an innocent white guy who just wants to get along with people, I have a hard time wrapping my head around that. Okay, I eventually figured out that it implies that most black people aren't well-spoken, but that's not the point. Most people aren't well-spoken, including the people Obama is running against. Kennedy was well-spoken, Clinton was well-spoken, even Reagan was well-spoken (as an actor he ought to have been) and that was probably his main appeal.

Of course, maybe being a dynamic public speaker isn't really key for being a world leader these days. Without even going into a schtick about Dubya, I can't say I ever heard Harper say anything inspiring, and Cretien, whom I liked, didn't even have a functioning mouth or complete grasp of the English language. Given those facts he did very well for himself, since he basically kept getting elected until he decided he just wanted to go home and sleep.

No matter what country you live in, (speaking mostly to Americans and Canadians here) it's important to remember the state of the world, particularly world economics. I don't understand right-wing economics. They're a pox, man. The only way to get anything done is tax and spend, and I'll say it until I'm blue in the muthafuckin' face. Countries like France and those in Scandinavia have some pretty steep taxes but they get it back in quality of life. Don't trust a politician who wants to lower your taxes. It sounds good but it's no good for you. I know that's hard to sell people but it's the truth, man. But what do I know.

Sometimes I feel bad for young conservatives. It's like they've already given up on the future and only want to get as much lucre for themselves before the bottom falls out. Nothing romantic about that way of life.

With federal elections in Canada and the US both within a month, I'm hoping this may be the last I rant about politics, because we're all sick of hearing about it. I'm no political scientist. I'm just a regular guy who has a vote.

I have two hours or so until class. There's still not much interesting going on and I still have some reading to do. What a week, what a week.

I gotta buckle down.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto

A: I'm happy just to dance with you

I haven't checked in for longer than usual. It isn't that it hasn't been an eventful week - shit, in fact, it's just the opposite. This has been a fairly intense week for your Scotto and I'm not entirely sure how much of it I am able to get into words here. It's, uh, complicated. And yet, quite straightforward.

For instance, I've been busy re-writing my play from scratch. There are some new jokes in it, some bad ones excised. I was very worried at the start, because after I wrote down the title I stared at the blinking cursor and thought "Oh fuck... what now?!" How is it possible to get writer's block doing something you've already written, right? (Twice.) And then after pacing around the room a bit I remembered who I am and what I do and I started typing. By the end of the night I had the entire first part, with Perry, typed. I took a break for convenience sake and am going to finally return to it tonight. Why wasn't I working on it all week? I guess you could say I've been distracted.

Not surprisingly, I've been thinking quite a bit in Beatles lyrics lately. Of course, even this gives me a pretty large vocabulary.

I have to admit it's getting better, getting better all the time.

I get by with a little help from my friends.

Don't let me down.

That sorta thing. Of course this is very well directly related to last night, which was Beatles night at the ESC's Lost Lounge. And you're sorry you missed it. For one thing, it was for a great cause, for another it was a great time with some incredible performances (and some not so, but anyway.)

I got there just in time to grab a seat with Joe and Viki and catch the first act and watch them be nervous even though both are consummate performers. The first guy reminded me a bit of Joe, actually, if he were a bit younger and plenty less experienced. Just a nice kid with an acoustic guitar. The second guy reminded me of a mad scientist with a velvet blazer, emo-slice and a backing band. He sat at this console of effects while a bassist, acoustic guitarist and drummer played the standard instrumentation. I missed most of their set because I was out getting a drink (lots of girls ordering cocktails prevented me from completing the simple task of getting a beer in good time.) I did catch the tail-end of their Let it Be, Come Together, and a Day in the Life, which was replete with audio wizardry.

This made Joe tug his collar a bit, because he was intending to play the same song during his set, but of course it was going to sound very different. I much preferred his version not only because I know him but because the Sgt. Pepper recording was so lush and immense that to recreate it is, I'm afraid to say, to dismantle it a bit. I mean shit, if you can't have that giant ending chord, why bother? So Joe played it straight on his acoustic and it sounded haunting and sparse and quite wonderful.

Prior to performing it, he made a slight reference to a quick conversation we'd had during the prior set, where we discussed the probability of overlap. Of course certain songs were going to prove more common - a few Day in the Lifes, one and a half Eleanor Rigbys, a couple Oh Darlings, multiple I Wanna Hold your Hands, etc. I theorized that, given the amount of material the Beatles had released - about 12 albums (14 songs each, plus 16 for the White Album and a few for Abbey Road) and roughly as many singles and b-sides. The larger portion of all this material was viable for performance, as the Beatles recorded very little forgettable or useless material... depending on your outlook - maybe toss out most of the covers they did on the early albums, half of the White Album, most of the Magical Mystery Tour stuff and that still leaves a lot for 8 acts to distribute without overlap, but still. Different acts would do Come Together differently, and for some reason nobody wanted to play Everybody's Got Something To Hide Except For Me And My Monkey.

Joe's set was pretty well chosen, actually, and fairly excellently performed. He wasn't going to be as spectacular as the full bands that came on later, but when you consider a guy on a chair with an acoustic guitar, you got the maximizing of that potential. He started with A Hard Day's Night, which he rocked out on and really unleashed some of the most powerful vocals he's ever shown. That's a trick he ought to keep in his pocket for his next ep. He then did his version of a Day in the Life (again, showing great vocal range) and a slowed-down version of I Wanna Hold Your Hand a la the film Across the Universe. He finished his act up with a couple of White Album numbers - not my favourites but really good stuff that could fit well into his repertoire that others weren't going to do. Rocky Raccoon, a sorta campfire-storytelling style ditty which he gave a harmonica part, and Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da.

When Joe and I had had a conversation several weeks ago on the matter, I laughed and said some people considered that the worst song they'd ever recorded. This fact, of course, Joe noted before going on with it, meaning he mentioned me twice in vague references; go me! Anyway, he did it and got the crowd to sing along as best he could. The theme of the night was the difficulty of getting the audience to participate, and the audience's occasional ineptitude at doing so, but we tried our best gosh darnit to sing along, "La-la how de life goes on!"

Viki's set seemed largely inspired by Across the Universe, as I think all of them were at least in that movie, and she name-dropped it before doing Happiness is a Warm Gun, which she did with heroin reference ("I need a fix") and the lascivious "My finger on your trigger" switched to the even-less family friendly "Your finger on my trigger" (I calls 'em as I sees em) intact. She also did "It Won't Be Long," (more hilariously inept audience participation, as everyone struggled to shout "Yeah!" on cue, or maybe I was the only one who was off, but I was far enough off for everyone) "Oh Darlin'" and she called Joe back up to do a duet of "Hold Me Tight" although since he wasn't mic'd, I guess it was more of a moral and visual duet.

The next act was One After 909, so-named because they only wanted to play songs off Let it Be, which was a bold choice. Let it Be is not a weak album, but is not generally thought of as particularly great either, at least as far as its material. Still, I think on the whole it rocked harder than most of the stuff they'd done since Sgt. Pepper and these guys did rock out. The one non-Let it Be tune they did play was Help. They opened with Two of Us, and also did Get Back, the song they named themselves after, and Don't Let Me Down, which oddly enough kinda let me down because the vocalist opted for a more melodic approach, which kills the purpose of the song - the vocals are supposed to be fuckin' raw, like a man on the brink of his own destruction if this woman does let him down. The last tune they did was I've Got a Feeling, which I heard for the first time just a week or so ago, and have been listening to fairly frequently (as I often do with new additions.) I was very pleased when they did a real raucous version of this comparatively obscure number, the last of the true "Lennon-McCartneys."

As you may have noticed, I know a great deal about the Beatles and have a ton to say on the matter. When a later act played an instrumental version of Within You Without You, I was the only one in our little group to identify it. That said, I don't know everything there is... just most of it. Not that this comes up later.

The next act forgot the lyrics to Eleanor Rigby, which irked us somewhat, particularly Joe who'd put a lot of work into learning songs. They were the family members of the woman who books the show (and for whose mother the benefit was held) but I kinda thought they halfwayed it, especially since the next band up was the Electic Revival, whose praises Joe was singing to me, and rightly so. Their lead singer, who partially served as MC, reminded me a bit of Rosser mixed with Jeff Dye, a comic who made it near the finals of Last Comic Standing. I can't remember their entire set, but they did a rendition of Eleanor Rigby (which not only sounded excellent but featured all the proper words) a slowed-down version of I've Just Seen a Face (which they described as "One of the greatest love songs ever, too bad they played it fast" and "this was the only time we've ever slowed something down.") They then proceeded to rock a sped-up version of Come Together, which is no mean feat. That is a hard song to effectively re-create, and it rarely sounds right (although I'm really partial to Aerosmith's version.) Speeding it up is key, because in its original form the tempo is weird such that it doesn't help vocalists who don't have Lennon's unique tone. The earlier version that night was pretty messy and that guy forgot the lyrics. I don't blame him because it's one of the few Beatles songs I listen to regularly that I can't quite get, (ask me to do I Am The Walrus sometime.) but if you're going to perform something, again I say, have the decency to rehearse and learn it. Which they did, and not only nailed every syllable and note, they did so with a killer attitude. Amongst all the acts, theirs was the one to beat. So to speak.

As the night kinda fell apart with tired people departing - including Joe and Viki and co - and awkward disjointed raffle attempts, the last act took the stage, The Britles: an authentic Beatles tribute band - with suits and semi-lookalikes (three of them were kinda old, George was about 5'2 and Paul looked like a tall, thin Paul Dano or Patrick Fugit) and authentic instruments (particularly Paul's Hoffner bass) and suits. They roared through a ton of Beatlemania-era hits including but not limited to She Loves You, Please Please Me, A Hard Day's Night, Ticket to Ride, I Feel Fine (disappointing to me: no attempt at the feedback fwwwannggggg which makes that song so cool) as well as slightly more obscure numbers like I'm Happy Just to Dance With You, You're Going to Lose That Girl, 'Til There Was You, and others. They also played one song from Revolver, And your Bird Can Sing (another tune I'd only recently discovered) but mostly kept it to Please Please Me-Help era stuff. They played long and faithfully, trying to match the vocals and while you can't do that (or at least, it's really fuckin' hard) they did well and played their hearts out. I was glad I stayed.

A brief tally of songs I'm a little surprised nobody played: Hey Jude, Yesterday, Strawberry Fields Forever, Penny Lane, Something, While My Guitar Gently Weeps, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, It's Getting Better, and any track of Rubber Soul, the only completely overlooked album in the entire night, despite boasting good tracks like Norwegian Wood, Nowhere Man, I'm Looking Through You, The Word, In My Life, Drive My Car and You Won't See Me. I guess the trick with that album is that it's kind of a bummer, and while it's more philosophical and thoughtful than their previous stuff, it's not really cheerful, or even particularly overwrought with emotion. (Correction: Rubber Soul was not totally forgotten, Cecil Eugene the first kid up, did a version of Girl. So what I just said was basically wrong, but I still listed a ton of good songs.) But yeah, Rubber Soul is a tricky album (as is Revolver) because of how tightly it mixes art and pop, whereas the combo is more accessible on later albums like Sgt. Pepper.

Hey Jude, in particular, would have brought the house down, no matter who did it. Of course, it's 7 minutes long, so there you go.

The night ended with me waiting for a cab with a stoner named James who offered me a toke or two. His came pretty quickly, mine took about 40 minutes. Pretty expensive too. It was about 2:30 when I got in the door, or later. By the time I even left the place, all the musicians were gone.

Today I mostly relaxed. I bought a copy of Forgetting Sarah Marshall, which is a great comedy (or at least that's how I remember it from April.) I read a review in Metro when the DVD came out, where it sounded like the reviewer knew he was the only one who didn't enjoy it. It admitted the movie was funny but was littered with backhanded modifiers like "If you like that kind of thing" and remarks about its length (disregarding the fact that this is the new standard for comedy.) It was actually kinda sad and I almost would've rather the guy went full bore and admittedhe hated it, even though it paints him as a joyless zombie to do so.

But anyway.

That was only the last day or so, and this does not even touch on why I am feeling what I'm feeling or what I've been focussed on.

That story's still kinda in progress and I don't have any idea how it's going to work out. Could be good.

But it's a long, strange story I still can't get into. And I've gotta get writing.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto