Observations.

Well, I am still in the market for a car. Well, I may be on the periphery looking in; stepping in and out. But, can you blame a girl? There is a fellow who would like to trade his 1996 Honda hatchback for an Audi. Right. And right smack dab in the middle of his list of features and benefits? Centre cup holder. Wow! Stop the clock and hold traffic. That Audi swap is your din and his win if you are willing to part with a centre cup holder. I hope you can come to some sort of agreement where you can saw it off. I bet one could hardly notice.

I did get to knick "the truck" today.  I was proudly flying the flag of snotty nerd by blasting The Abduction from the Seraglio. There is no playing that one down.  But what is it that makes us (relatively) young classical music fans crouch and often deny our tastes? Dare I say better tastes? Nah. But lets face it, it is a far more rich and delicious auditory experience. It plays upon emotions and thoughts and expresses much more than any pop piece of crap being churned out today. Listening is like taking apart a delicate layer cake, piece by piece, from frosting to sponge and letting the flavour spread across one's tongue.  Some bites the frosting coats the inside of the mouth with creamy butter and sugar, other bites are lighter with pastry.  I cannot encourage people to set shitty music aside and pick up classical.  I am not saying that anything past Gershwin and or some Philip Glass is all shit, but most of it is.  Most of it is auditory Mc Donalds; fast and flat filled with salt and sugar, guaranteed to leave you logy and (intellectually) constipated. Sure, we all like "fun", but how about some contemplation and depth.  How about a journey, not by Journey.  And please do not base what you have heard on Pops. Pops is shit, too.
Just as filmy and light as its  modern equivalent. Put down the Boston Pops and John Williams. Sarah Brightman is not classical. Measha is. Pick up some Mahler. Mozart, Prokovfiev.....all amazing composers that transport one in ways that one can hardly describe.  There are hundreds just itching to be listened to.  Often 2 disc CD's! Enjoy

The Crazies are out to get you... ( inspired by Shandra)

Yes, the crazies are out to get you, and keep you..

Safe...

a) There are some damned good cops, firemen and other enforcement officers working to keep you safe.
(http://www.depressionforums.org/forums/topic/6926-any-bipolar-cops-or-law-enforcement-officers/)

Voting...

Michael Costa
Margaret Trudeau
Alastair Campbell
Patrick J Kennedy

Watching...

Rosemarie Clooney
Vivien Leigh
Burgess Meredith
Jean Claude Van Damme
Kristy Mc Nichol
Margot Kidder
Kerry Katona
Linda Hamilton
Carrie Fischer
Patty Duke
Richard Dreyfuss

          
Reading...

Ernest Hemmingway
Sylvia Plath
Andy Behrman
John Clare
Patricia Cornwell
Stephen Fry
Graham Greene
Marya Hornebacher
Jack London
Robert Munsch
Edgar Allan Poe
Sidney Sheldon
Virginia Woolf


Thinking...

Jane Pauley
Patrick Kroupa
Kay Redfield Jameson
Abbie Hoffman
Georg Cantor
Dick Cavett
Ludwig Boltzmann

Viewing....

Pretty Much Any Artist You Can Think of...
Edvard Munch to Van Gogh to Pollock and everyone in between.


Listening....

Adam Ant
Ozzy Osborne
Daniel Johnston
Macy Gray
Emilie Autumn
Max Behmis
Adrian Borland
Eminem
Kurt Cobain
Mike Doughty
Connie Francis
Matthew Good
Ben Moody
Sinead O'Connor
Charley Pride
Axl Rose
Britney Spears
Nina Simone
Patrick Stump
Scott Weiland
Pete Wentz
Brian Wilson


Clothed...

Alexander (Lee) Mc Queen
Isabella Blow
My guess is most designers are in the spectrum somewhere.
(Hello, Lagerfeld!)


Laughing....

At least 2/3rds of comedians (according to John Cleese) are under the umbrella of mental illness.
This includes
Stephen Fry
Ruby Wax
Russell Brand
Cheri Oteri
Ben Stiller
Kevin Mac Donald

Healthy...

Florence Nightengale
Chances are your therapist, psychologist and psychiatrist are under the umbrella, too.

Loving....

Your Mother
Your Sister
Your Father
Your Brother
Your Grandma
Your Grandpa
Your Aunt
Your Uncle
Your Cousin
Your friend
You.

Not Just a Lemon but a Damned LIME

I heard of some doozies in my day, but damn, this one took and will continue to take the cake. 

This car sounded just right. A semi reluctant seller ( diesel sensitivity) that had powered through and kept up maintenance and repairs meticulously. Low kilos and the breaking in servicing behind us. 

He even had a dog NAMED ZOE, spelt the same way. It seemed too good. 

Oh, it was. 

It started, hooray. The owner thought it might not, seeing that it had been parked so long. "I thought maybe the battery was dead", he wondered out loud. An Eyebrow raises. 

He definitely had a strong dislike for the smell of diesel. "Pungent", Rory calls it. 

The driver's side mirror has the residue of a thick oily marker with  the numbers "604" in 72 size type set scrawl. Isn't that used with write offs, major accidents and roadside abandonments? He had no explanation and claims to have never noticed it before. He waved it off as if it was an optical illusion on my part. 

The upholstery had a Nissan box weave to it, not the VW pattern, not even close. 

There was so much water in the car, we thought it was condensation from the sun roof. Nope. Not the way it was raining while we took the test drive. When I say raining, I mean it was raining on the INSIDE. That explained why the fabric had been replaced. 

The gentlemen then let it slip that he had not had this car for long, and that he bought it from a friend cheap because it had been in an accident. "You should have seen it, the whole front end was smashed, now all you see is a scrape. Cost me 800.00 to fix.  I have the receipts. I know a guy who works for 30.00/hr at VW. Remy. Want to see the before picture?"   Remy would even be kind enough to perform the inspection. 

We declined the offer and popped the hood, trying to scrape together some semblance of due diligence.  Oh look, bolts. Mystery structural bolts put into the passenger side attempting to straighten and strengthen the metal that had folded and buckled like a fan. They look like a backyard Kluge if  have ever seen one. 

I began to see...He flips cars. He and Remy. Remy and Co. buy write offs or what have you, put in some money, time, kluges and sell them on Craigslist. 

He had plenty of cars, at least two other VW's an SUV and a civic or two. Same goes for his number. It comes up on craigslist  on several occasions, selling cars, similar story of long time ownership,  and an insurmountable hardship that is severing the car and driver relationship. 

I think I will keep looking. 

Consumer/Survivor

Back when I was first working on my undergrad at UBC, I was a good little A-Type personality and wanted to secure myself a plumb summer internship.  I applied to all sorts of art institutions, one being Gallery Gachet. The position was for a grant writer, and they asked that one knew a) about art b) about grant writing and c) about "the system".  In this case, it was the mental health system, and the host of terms and phrases that were new to me. One in particular still stands out; "Consumer/ Survivor".  Consumers of mental health services and programmes and those who, well, survived them.  I thought that survivors were primarily from days past; horror stories from Riverview, psychwards of the past, et cetera. However, now I am not so sure. I have been in the system for all of four months. In that time I have seen four psychiatrists, a litany of nurses, prodded by insurance companies, hospitals and specialists. My first psychiatrist turfed me after I refused extra pills and wanted answers and firm diagnoses. The second one didn't "believe in taking pictures of her cat, it will take her soul", and put me on enough valproic acid to make a regular menses a thing of the past. When confronted with this side effect she threw up her hands and exclaimed: "oh god, you are pregnant and your child has spina bifida". Relationship terminated.    I have been "snowed", and then put on withdrawal inducing medication regimes. All the while being told how important sleep and staying positive are.  They put me on meds that were so strong I forgot how to drive and lost bladder control.   They have put me on sleeping pills so strong that if I am 20 mins off in taking them, panic and anxiety quickly course through my veins. How the hell am I going to get off of that one? More white knuckled nights? Oh swell...why was it so readily given out in the first place? I was on a waiting list for you? They now have me seeing a GP with an "interest" in psych drugs who works at the centre 2 days a week. The other 3 days a week, who knows.  Maybe specializing in foot odour issues and pesky calluses.  Oh swell. Let's experiment...with  my life, brain chemistry and quality of experience.  Four months in, I am a survivor.