A little drop drips down and eats away a piece of earth so tiny that it takes ten thousand years to see. The rock goes down and down and becomes a giant plate, floating on a sea of magma. Ten million million drips dripping every second. The plates move and shufle, shake people out of their dreams, knock down their houses, open up the sky. But most of the grass keeps growing. The interstates are rebuilt. And ponds sit and dream about being drops.

Well, in some way at least, perhaps some congratulations are in order: I now (FINALLY) have internet access here at the house! Yay!

It's a pity that my newfound connectedness doesn't coincide with a particularly inspiring part of my life. But that's alright. They say Xanga has 50000 members now. I joined back when there were only a hundred or so...

Other good news today: The shower is fixed. 2 1/2 weeks ago, a large wet patch appeared on the bedroom floor and refused to go away. Turned out to be a problem with the bathtub spout and the mechanism that changes the flow of water from the spout to the showerhead. Then, lots of waiting. The landlord couldn't get a hold of the usual contractor, who is working on the new residence buildings at the university. FINALLY, he got a hold of another plumber, and the guy came in and fixed the problem in less than an hour. So 2 1/2 weeks of showering elsewhere comes to an end. Yay!

This is resume week coming up. Unfortunately January is layoff time, not hiring time. But we shall see.

Anyhow, I feel like a dumbass when I write too many dull posts in a row, so I'm going to go now. Hopefully the next entry or two, whenever they occur, will reflect some of the wonderful lurking things below the surface of it all, rather than dwelling on the false surface of life.

Good health and happiness to you all!

Take care
-J-

Progress lately on a song about vending machine deaths. It's a topic I find absolutely perfectly suited to song, but I only just decided on what perticular vein would be best. I'm writing it as one of those inspirational folk protest songs about people dying nobly in support of a just cause. I personally think being crushed to death by a vening machine while trying to get free soda is one of the most pointless and stupid ways to die ever. Also in my "top 3" would be choking to death on ones own vomit.

Here are some links to vending machine injuries:

http://www.babybag.com/cpsc/ms96011.htm
http://www.cokemachineaccidents.com/

Ticklish Brother's December 2000 appearance on CBC Radio's Madly Off In All Directions was rebroadcast a few days ago, and we've gotten comments and orders from across the country. Nice to get, especially at a time when the band is not able to perform (since Byron is living elsewhere). Hopefully this will motivate me to keep working on the distribution and things, despite my current life confusion. The website needs an overhaul too... Mea culpa, mea culpa......

But now it's time to fold laundry and get home. My wife has been asleep up on the couch for quite a while, an I think she's going to be irritated to find it has gotten so late.

Night all.

Take care
-J-

An aching kind of music borne
In deep rivers under cliffs of snow
Sits rough and insistent on the chest.
Wood bends, splinters, mulches and grows again
While lives pass on as they have done.
Something new is so very very old
And has been passed through
By many before.
It is a well-troden path indeed.
And so we plant our crafts
Fly our oceans like kites
In the strong breeze
Carve and dig and turn
Our marks more or less transitory.
For our destination remains
Forever out of reach
And many ignore the long journey
As it stretches on day by day
And wind up nowhere
At the setting of the sun.

And now it is the 17th...

The year is rapily drawing to a close, I think. The bright cheery lights around town and the white puffy snow help to offset my somewhat darkening mood and slowing brain. I'm still not outwardly employed, though I received the materials today for a custom piece I'm working on. I still have yet to find my equilibrium, and I'm feeling a bit precariously perched in my reality and in my life right now. Probably not at all unusual for a lad of 23. I've never been afraid of the eventual future. It's the immediate future that gets me down. And it takes a lot of fighting sometimes to strike down the feeling that maybe I will continue failing forever...

But fight I do, and try to keep an eye on my larger picture. I have been given enough avantages that I would have to work very deliberately to become a failure. And I don't see that happening. I'm just a child who knows what is ahead but still longs to be one of those very few who can sidestep the drudgery and look to something a bit shinier... But service station attendant will have to be shiny enough for the time being. Or perhaps grocery clerk or fast food cook.

Magic is there for those who care to find it in all things...

Take care
-J-

Ah the joys of internet trouble.

I just finished typing a long entry. But I hit Submit and it couldn't find the server and I hit Back and am now faced with this blank box. I HATE it when that happens. And it's too late at night to write it over again. I guess I'll give you highlights:

The Flea Market was not a success. Due to not being able to get a table at the good one, I ended up at one which proved to be quite crappy. 16 tables as opposed to 180, and no publicity at all. I made $13 for my 6 hours standing around, and that doesn't include the cost of materials and labour spent building the ONE thing I sold. Sigh.

So that's the skinny of it. Sorry it's not more poetic. It was, but then it went away. But I have a custom order to work on, due in a couple of weeks, and due to a lumber sale, I just found out that my profit margin will be slightly higher than anticipated, which is a very good thing.

Thanks for all your words of encouragement. I'll try and make my life go better so that you can actually hear some good news for a change soon

Take care all
-J-

Hmmm

Well, tomorrow is my first day down at the flea market. I will be selling things which I have yet to make. I am going to go home now and make things to sell. I have an inadequate stock as of this instant. But that's alright. Sometimes I feel like the Bob Dylan line "my existence led by confusion boats, mutiny from stern to bow".

Aaron Neville is poo.

Wish me luck. Thanks everyone. Talk to you soon.

Take care
-J-

Well, I deserve some congratulations at least on re-acquiring, after many years of absence, a semi-normal schedule. In my sad little world, this means that I've gotten up before noon several days in a row, and actually enjoyed it. The flip side, unfortunately, is that it's not even 1am and I'm very sleepy. But oh well.

Sunday will be my first day down at the flea market. I couldn't get a table for the big one, so I'll be at the one across the street from there. But oh well. Hopefully it'll work out.

I'd write more, but my brain has abandoned me. I need some sleep. More later.

Take care
-J-

Well, leaving didn't work.

I should be most of the way back home right now, but instead I'm still in St. John's. Because of the weird way the city buses run here, 7:08 was too late to arrive for the 7:15 bus, which by then was parked for 20 minutes at a larger stop up ahead. So I caught the 7:35, which, combined with a late departure because the driver was having a chat, got me to the place at 7:50, about 3 minutes too late. I watched as the DRL bus, having left and turned around, passed me on the other side of the highway.

So. Here I am, still.

But thge extra day let me get to the thrift store and buy some direly-needed clothing, so that was good. They thought one of my bags of stuff was a donation and took it away to the back room, and I had to get it back as I was leaving. Then later, I discovered some important papers were no longer in the bag, and had to go back again. Turns out that they removed them from the "donation" bag and threw them in the garbage. Thankfully, they fished through the garbage and found them, unsullied. The momentary stress of having lost the full or partial lyrics to 3 dozen songs was unpleasant.

There was a lovely 12-string at a Cash Converters, but out of my range (and somewhat overpriced) at $299.

So here I am. I'm a little foggy-brained from spending the night on a down comforter in a house full of cats (I'm allergic to feathers and cats), and from getting up wretchedly early (6:30. Yuck). But things are generally fine. In the morning I'll grab a cab and catch the bus and move along home.

So I'm going to go and grab a cup of coffee upstairs now and maybe take a little nap and hopefully get a hold of my wife and let her know that I won't be back until tomorrow. Sigh. But this is how these things go. Thankfully I'm surrounded by friendly and hospitable people, or this would be an unpleasant trip instead.

Take care
-J-

The human mood is a strange thing.

Today I dressed up nice, took the bus downtown, and had a meeting with the owner of Living Rooms. It was interesting. I have always found self-promotion to be extremely difficult, and even though I'm getting better at it, It still wears me down like nothing else. I don't even really mind promoting the things I've made, but since I didn't have any examples with me, today was about convincing her that I am a worthy furniture-maker, not convincing her that my furniture is good. It's a subtle but highly influential difference.

So yeah. We met. The meeting did not result in anything resembling a firm deal, but thankfully me natural pessimism braced me for that. She listed the reasons why they hardly ever buy locally, and I don't think any of them actually apply to me, so in fact the news wasn't that bad. But I've still been fighting for the whole rest of the evening to keep from slipping into depression and worthlessness. I even went to see Harry Potter, but while I enjoyed it, it didn't rescue my mood.

And so... What I need to do is send her my portfolio, and tailor it to demonstrate that her concerns are unfounded. They include issues of pricing, finish, and visual appeal. I think I can overcome them. The real trick is going to be to keep myself from becoming discouraged for long enough to actually get the portfolio submitted. Because it's not dead by any means. But it could die just like that if I don't actively move it along.

So yeah.

So tentatively I'm flying home at 5:15 Wednesday evening, which leaves me Tuesday to do whatever. Unfortunately, "whatever" almost definitely means spending money I really don't have right now. Even plain old bus fare can add up. Despite my best intentions, I've spent significantly more than I should this trip. And while the plane ticket is only going to run $75, that's still money that's going to spend a good while on the Mastercard.

But looking to the immediate future, hopefully I have the ability to lift myself up. I'll have 3 days to build up more stock for the sale this Sunday, and then 3 Sundays after that before Christmas. If I keep focused and inspired, working and cheerful, I can prove that I'm a worthwhile and productive member of society. I'm not sure who I'm trying to prove that to exactly... I keep feeling that others are judging me and finding me wanting. But it's probably mostly paranoia. It would be nice to pay off the Mastercard though...

Anyhow, before this entry bloats any further, I'm going to grab a snack and grab some sleep.

And so it goes

Take care
-J-