Category: work

Categories
cinema montreal work

The ne plus ultra of the blogging world

That is, perhaps, the weirdest expression that I had never, until now, heard. As far as I can tell, in literal translation, it’s like saying no one’s better. But I dunno, those French.

Good things have been happening. My interview on Monday kicked ass, and from what I can tell the people that interviewed me think that I kick ass, so I should finally have another job soon. In the land of health, I am feeling much improved. At my current job, I received a completely unexpected raise of 6%; I’m now making 34% more than I’ve ever made in a previous job (per hour, at least) and that makes me feel vaguely important. (It’s nice to have a feeling of financial progression, at least. It’s as though as I get older I become more valuable to the world. That’s a nice thought.) Other good things, in small arenas. I’ve been particularly enjoying the conversation and company of my friends, lately, both near and far. I feel like Emily and I are on the best terms yet since our break-up, and that the world, in general, is full of beautiful and interesting people.

An interesting note about my interview: the director of the Olympia Timberland Library, who was one of the two interviewers from Olympia (of 6, altogether) attended McGill University, my predetermined escape route to Montreal. She invited me to come down and talk to her about it sometime, which I plan to do soon. I’m excited to know what she thought about the school, and in general it seems like a positive omen.

Spider-Man 2 is now available on DVD, and my roommate Tim picked it up. Arrived home from dancing, we began to watch it last night (after I read Tim my previous, scathing review from having watched it in the theater.) My previous review stands.

Life is good. Today the sun shone,
and I wore the sunglasses of contentment.
A bagel and coffee at Otto’s to start the day,
like we used to do in years past.

Categories
art montreal music work

When a straight beats a flush

I came across this interesting link, somewhat circuitously today. It involves the Pacific Northwest, and this particular story is about Neah Bay and the Makah Tribe. My step-dad is Makah, and very active in Makah traditional and cultural life. He particularly does a lot of really beautiful copper-work, cut and painted to represent traditional and familial spirit and animal figures. The Makah are most known, recently, for the controversy revolving around their whaling, particularly their recent hunt in 1999. There are some beautiful pictures of Pacific coastline and local rainforest worth checking out. Washington State is chock-full of natural beauty. Go us.

Of other note, geographically, is this short article from The Boston Globe on Montreal, with focus on their pop music scene and its success in the U.S. (Whether that’s a recommendation or not, I don’t know — I’m not particularly fond of “popular” American music.) But it’s a neat, short blurb that ends in saying, “Montreal is an artist’s town.” Go them. (Still, the thought of being surrounded by three million people is a bit daunting to a country-grown boy like myself.) For further stories of Montreal interest…

–

The phone rang yesterday, and I, crotchety hermit that I am, let it ring through because I didn’t recognize the caller id number (that and I’m a lazy bastard; we really don’t get that many “courtesy calls” these days). It turned out to be the Public Library downtown, calling me about a “Library Aide” position for 15 hours a week. I’ve got to call them back when I get off work today, but this surely means an interview at least (because they send letters if they reject you; I’ve been collecting them), and hopefully a job of some sort for low pay and lost evenings. But hey! I can stop living off my damned credit card! Go me.

Time is short. Looking at the moment; it passes.
A quote to encourage ye, adventurers.

Make your choice, adventurous Stranger;
Strike the bell, and bide the danger,
Or wonder, till it drives you mad,
What would have followed if you had.

The Magician’s Nephew, C.S. Lewis

Categories
love personal poetic work

From any piece of wood…

A whole new host of links along the right there, at the bottom, including lots of local stuff. Nothing too exciting, unless you’d like to know more about Olympia. Hey, Olympia’s a cool place, so why not!?

My lax work schedule means I have always had Fridays off, but since I’m only part-time and yesterday was a holiday, I neither worked yesterday nor got payed for pretending to work yesterday, so I get to make up the hours today. Okay, so I get off at one; it’s not as though my life’s that tough, but next week I work Monday – Saturday, and regardless of how many hours that is (not many) it’s still a pain in the ass. I’m still applying for library work, but I seem to be cursed and if nothing pans out there soon, I may end up getting a part-time service (restaurant) job to tide me over for awhile (holiday season and all). That’s it for informative; here’s something impromptu:

Brown-eyed ballerina of verbal skill,
bandies carillon in sonant flutter to
charm the sun against the window-sill
and set my heart a-stutter.

[the author makes apologies for being a sap]

Categories
personal work

Tenacious template transmutation

Well well, new template.
Basically still just a standard issue blogger template,
unfortunately, but for a few touch-ups.
I never claimed to be a web-genius.
What do you all think?
Personally, I’m glad to be rid of the black.

–

Life’s been busy as usual.
I found out that I didn’t get the part-time
position for which I had applied downtown, which
is a major bummer, but life goes on. They ended
up having four internal applicants (for a part-time job!)
so I never even made it in to interview.
I did, however, have a good conversation with the head
of circulation down there. I think that I made a good
impression, and I cackled as I said,
“You haven’t seen the last of me!” Then I disappeared
in a cloud of smoke, and winged monke…
Oh wait, no, none of that happened.
I was perfectly nice, and picked up a volunteer form.
If they won’t pay me to work there, I’ll do it for free
for awhile so they can come to learn how kick-ass I am,
and eventually beg me to consider taking tons of
their money for my invaluable services.

That, and there’s a 10-16 hour page position open.
It’s low hours at crappy pay, but if I’ve learned
nothing else in the last couple months, it’s that there’s
nothing more valuable in getting a job than already
having your foot in the door when the time comes.
Besides, even low hours and low pay is better than
no hours and no pay. Can’t argue there.

–

Social interactions are complicated.
Sometimes I enjoy their intricacies, and sometimes
I wish we could all just get along in the simplest
fashion possible. I imagine that my prevarications
in this lend me an occassional air of confusion; one
moment hyperbolically obtuse, the next insidiously crafty
and dissembling. There is no reason to my rhyme.

Really, it’s no so bad as all that.
Mostly I’m honest and straight-forward,
particularly when it matters. Sometimes,
the monkey in me gets loose and rampages,
which can lead to no end of trouble.

Still, I wouldn’t trade my inner-monkey for anything.

Categories
love music personal poetic work

Devil be good

New music to wake up to: Jason Webley
and Tom Waits. Men of steeled voices that
rasp the sun behind the clouds and make the rain come.
Gotta fuckin’ love em. I’m gonna see Jason Webley live
tonight at the Backstage, and it’ll kick ass.

Last night was a CD release party at Last Word Books
for Jorah LaFleur, a totally awesome local spoken-word
artist. There was a lot of other amazing literary talent
there that read before Jorah, including some friends of mine,
and all in all it was a grand and inspiring event.
I need to bust out some rhymes!

After the event, my friend Alexis and I went to an
all-night diner for some coffee (at 1 in the morning!?),
which may have been a ridiculously bad idea,
but it was fun, anyway. We made little pirate ships out of
french fries, toothpicks, bits of tuna, creamer lids (for sails)
and a small piece of pickle. It was a thing of beauty.
Then we hung out at my place ’til about four,
tried to pass out because I had to get up early for work,
and both got at most a fitful couple hours of sleep.
We had a really great time, though,
so I’ve no regrets. I’m just sleepy as hell.

–

I purchased myself a guitar tuner, cord, and a kapo;
grace à Emily, who told me not to spend it all on bills.
At the music store, I asked about lessons. They’re a bit cheaper
than I’d thought, so a definate possibility in the near-future,
once I get a second job somewhere, or one full-time position.
I applied for the absolutely, most-ideal job for me in the world
right now, though sadly I think I stand a snowman’s chance
in Cancun of getting it. It’s an assistant supervisor position,
for which I have no more than a couple years basic library
experience; but you’ve got to get experience sometime, right?
I can’t even begin to explain how much it would rock if I got
this job. My application’s in, so now I play the waiting game,
and try to rock the interview (should I get one) as I never have
before. And then, back to my original point, guitar lessons!
I’ve been playing guitar for like 10 years, but I’ve never
had any training, and I’m lazy; so I still suck at it.
I’ve procrastinated too long, it’s fucking time to get good!

Some guitarists / singers / songwriters that rock me:

Jack Johnson
Sam Beam [Iron & Wine]
Doug Martsch
Chan Marshall [Cat Power]
Robyn Hitchcock

I could probably think of a thousand more,
but these are the notable artists off the top of my head;
oh, and Tom Waits and Jason Webley, of course.

Categories
game music personal webcomics work

Morning sounds

In the mornings, I invariably make coffee,
strong, strong coffee; and listen to Diana
Krall sing some great jazz in DTS.
The music really fills the house, and it’s
a great way to start a day. I got a Norah
Jones SACD, but I can’t get any volume out
of it. Saddest thing ever.

So we picked up Burnout 3 yesterday, thanks
to the rave reviews of Tycho at Penny Arcade,
and I’d just like to take this opportunity to curse
him for being right. This game has everything a good
racing game should have, including the wanton destruction
of, well, everything, including your opponents,
and vast hordes of rush hour traffic.
Theo, at least, had the good sense to go out
on a date, have some dinner, see Arts Walk.
All things I had certainly planned on doing,
once, long before Burnout took me in its clutches
and forced me to play it all freakin’ day.
I feel so used; good thing I have to work today.

Work: the anti-crack.

Categories
love poetic work

Who the fuck are you to turn me on!?

The poetry reading was awe-to-the-izzm.
There’s this guy that comes weekly
(i.e. the last two weeks), who’s a
singer/songwriter/guitar-player/poet
and that title is his line;
and he’s awesome and inspiring and neato to boot.

I’ve been thinking a lot about sexuality and
gender roles in our society, and with our
generation in particular. I’ve come to no conclusions,
per se, just rambling thought and speculation.
So why did I bring it up?
I’ve no idea.

In other news: an absolutely spectacular job
opened at the Olympia Public Library,
and I’m super-psyched about it,
and I’m going to get it,
and then my life will be peaches
and rose-fuzz, or something like that.
Go me. Good night.

Categories
book music personal work

Spin records like Capone

I’m convinced that were he alive today,
Al Capone would be a fabulous DJ.

Theo should have gotten his paycheck by Tuesday,
as I did; but as yet it hasn’t arrived.
And we need to pay rent today;
he’s floating some checks with fingers crossed,
while payroll says their hands are tied.

Reading the religion and politics forum on
The Crossroads, I often came across the idea
that the reason people don’t have money is because
they aren’t working for it. To them I say,
“Go read Nickel and Dimed.” These are stories
of people that work their asses off, 40+ hours a week,
and still can’t afford to pay a month’s worth of rent.

People are poor because minimum wage is low,
because server wages drop as low or lower than $1.50 an hour,
because breaking a limb can cripple you financially,
because cars and housing are unaffordable and
mass transit is unavailable, slow or unreliable.

Don’t get me wrong, I think that if people are
unhappy with their lot, they can do something to
change it. However, I think the system, also, needs
to change; and I strongly disagree that poverty is
necessarily a sympton of laziness. My radical, liberal
thought says: “Stop bombing, start fixing things at home.”
But hey, that’s just me. My true colors show.

–

So, with one gmail invite left;
I leave it here for the first interested
party to acquire. Enjoy.

Categories
love poetic tech work

Stranger than the stranger

So I found out this morning that
swing dancing is on Tuesday nights.
Now I have to wait a week, but at least
it doesn’t conflict with the poetry readings anymore.
The reading last night went swimmingly;
about 10 people read, including myself,
and every reader was worth listening to.
It’s good to remember that there are
other people out there, writing poetry; doing this thing.
Sometimes I forget.

I got a G-mail account today, which makes me happy
because stupid AOL bought Mailblocks, and
I figure it’s only a matter of time before they ruin it.
What with Google owning both Blogger and G-mail,
I’m now completely dependant on them
for my two biggest internet addictions.
Go go gadget Google.

To Emily: I’m sorry about mixed messages
and vapid arguments. I’d really like us to
interact positively. I’ll wait to hear from you.

–

In the employment world, a temporary position
opened here at St Martin’s in the Advancement Office
(I don’t know what that is, but okay), doing data
verification 20 hours a week. It’s a job that lasts
4-6 weeks and they’ve pretty much already hired me
(just need to work out the schedule).

That should help the old pocket-book for a pinch.

Categories
personal poetic work

Like Icarus loves the Sun

Yesterday, as I sat at the window
inside Caffé Vita, I watched
a blind woman cross 4th Ave,
the main street in downtown Oly.

I couldn’t help but wonder
where she was going, what doing.
And so I imagined her,
weaving a straight line into
a local gallery,
and buying a painting.

The most perfect action ever taken.

–

Olympia has been good to me.
It feels like home, treats me like
a long-lost lover, rediscovered.
For me, that faceless throng is
a world of stories, telling themselves
in facial tics and snippets of conversation.
Even the morally destitute give me hope.
I couldn’t say why.

My job is excellent;
slow right now between semesters,
allows me a chance to get my bearings.
At 19 hours a week, I’m still waiting
for that second job to fall in my lap.
My supervisor here in the Library,
after just a week, is willing to put
in a good word for me
(the 2nd job is also on campus),
so I think I stand a good chance.

In the evenings:
darts in the garage,
music and conversation,
story-telling,
a beer to relax and
watch our neighbors across the street
[human story of a couple and two kids],
listen to our neighbors next-door
[irish tap jigs against hard-wood floors],
barbeque at sunset and
wonder what it’s all about.

–

Creatively, I’ve been working on story-boards
for two strips,
which Theo and Tim draw, respectively.
We’ve a good creative environment,
communication and amusement.
We should have a few up on a website soon,
once our internet kicks in at home.
So, you know, stay tuned and all that.

–

A poem to part with, from 8/9.

Rata-tat-tata-tata-rata-tata-ra-ta-tat:
heart drumbeats
simple beats
easy as it looks
rata-tat-tat-tat –
beguile me for awhile
i’m easy:
tell me your stories like lies
of flies on walls
i too saw it all;
tell me your truths & heartbreaks
rata-tata –
life’s easy
getting by is getting by
but life’s easy &
happiness is easy as a choice –
simple beats:
rata-tat-tat-tat –
easy as it looks.

Categories
cinema work

Dieu est grand, je suis tout petit …

… was a cute movie, but I don’t think I got much out of it.
Other than the fact that Audrey Tautou is awesome, of course.
But I already knew that. On a few levels,
the movie actually aggravated me.
Arguments are trifling; beliefs are vapid;
love is nothing more than a heavy make-out session.
Audrey’s awesome, but if I ever dated her character
in this movie, I would strangle her. Swear to Dieu.

Today is a Sunday.
Day’s off are long, plodding beasts.
I almost miss work, as it makes time pass.
Tomorrow marks two weeks until I leave.
Excitement and trepidation;
a burden and a lightening around my heart.
Lightning around my heart – but I don’t know
what that means anymore.

Categories
love personal work

My endless numbered day off

Sometimes it’s difficult to keep silence at bay.
It threatens to overwhelm me.
Especially this long Friday,
my day off. The house is empty,
save for Moko and I. The Sun makes
fraudulent attempts at cheer –
sunlight and shadow, coins and paradox,
everywhere elements of duality.

Today my car got its “summer care” package.
A first step in what may soon become
a mad flurry of activity, centered around
my leave-taking. I am ready for a new beginning,
but am forced to procrastination.
A work-ethic sense of responsibility,
to a job that’s never given reason to
deserve it. True, I enjoyed my job;
and I am leaving none too soon.
Responsibility and compensation;
an employment duality. It is too often
skewed towards responsibility.
Compensation gets the shaft.
What a world, what a world.

Two Mormon missionaries came to my doorstep today.
I stood out on the porch and spoke with them
for about 10 minutes. I told them that I
was in a good place, spiritually, and that I
begrudged no-one the right to their own beliefs.
They said it was nice to talk to people,
even those like myself who had no particular interest
in church; better than getting doors slammed in their faces.
They were nice, and it served me well to remember:
we are all suffering through our own experiences,
fighting to determine our unique senses of humanity.
Make the best of today, speak with the people
who knock on your door. Belief systems aside,
we are all struggling to be human.
Existential to the bone, am I.

The Oberlin Library is going through something similar
to what the Grafton Library is going through.
The Board meets, middle management is cut –
everyone will do everything like a true
communist state. But again, compensation is never equal.
All these decision-makers, deliberating,
and they’ve no idea how a library runs.
Those who run the scut-work of 9-5 understand;
and are kept far from the decision-making process.

Olympia beckons like a dream;
one with too much reality.
After all, these are not the problems
of living in a certain place.
These are the questions that haunt my humanity.
They will surely follow me.

Emily keeps me at bay.
We held each other for an hour,
shared a beautiful moment – now
she wants nothing that will make
parting more painful.
I want anything that will make
these last two weeks less so.

The fatal difference of perspectives.

Categories
personal poetic work

The closing breaths of a long weekend

This weekend, I basked in unrepentant sloth:
watched movies, read, blogged and surfed and emailed;
I captured the very essence of laze.

Now this long weekend pulls its closing breath,
toil and bustle are my bunk-mates for the week;
raucous, crude and ignoble beasts.
I’ve little choice in the matter.
As with us all, the basest demands of
our humanity: eat, sleep, warm;
in turn demand industry, the
scutwork of nine-to-five –
thrum-thrum-thrum – and heartbeats
measure seconds in the work-day,
and seconds count the long hours down;
but slowly. The work-week is time’s
opportunity for indolence; it passes sluggishly.

ENOUGH!

It’s little use to bask in my drudgery.
My fingers are neither cracked nor raw
from long days in cotton fields.
I’ve known no days under hot suns,
amidst stinging insects and sugar-cane.
Every step of every day has been my own
and I will allow no regrets to cast
their shadows over the journeys that lay ahead.

The inchworm inches.
Ibsen idly switches
Pavlov’s hitches:
machines to measure men,
not bitches.
A heartbeat frantic twitches;
no pedantic riches halt –
time moves in stitches,
inching inches which is
over time, feet.
The road is lined with ditches,
niches, and is miles long.
Over time, the inchworm inched,
flinched,
and finished;
a journey of a few feet,
yet still –
complete.

Categories
personal work

Thoughts and plans

I’ve little thought of what I might do once I reach Olympia. Evergreen had a good job open, but I missed the deadline to apply (which was just the day after I noticed the position) and Yelm is just too far to drive (45 minutes) to apply for the library job that is open there.

Zero consequences …
… that’s the offering a book of matches gives in an episode of Smalleville – Zero Consequences. I try to think of something, anything, with which that cryptic saying might hold true. Nothing comes to mind. Actions like pebbles in a pond and there will always be ripples. I’d like to think my actions make nice, concentric circles somehow emanate from me, pulsating lily pads and reflecting lines of sunlight. More likely my actions are like the kid who cannonballs at the pool, soaking people who don’t want to get soaked and getting water up my nose in the process. Is the consequence of a consequence called a reconsequence? re – con – se – que – nce — RElaxCONsiderSEveralQUEstionablemiNCEmeatpies. Don’t worry, I won’t quit my day job. Well, except that I am, and then I’m moving across the country, and then I don’t know what I’ll do for a day job, which thought started me off, somehow, on this tangent in the first place.

Dinner tonight is long-grained brown rice, topped with plain cottage cheese and Braggs. The meal of choice for every connoisseur who can’t cook his way out of a paper bag (which would really only require the ability to steam, I would think). I can really cook a variety of things: bagels, eggs, potatoes, pancakes, waffles, rice … umm, cold cereal. I’m quite good at reheating, though. And I cook a good frozen pizza, no mistake (meaning it’s usually no longer frozen by the time I’m done with it). Okay, it’s really not that bad, I promise. Maybe nearly that bad, but not quite.

Strange, but considering questionable mincemeat pies really is kind of relaxing. No stranger a custom than trying to count sheep jumping over a fence as a way to fall asleep. Something, I might add, which has never, ever, ever worked one whit for me.

I’m embarrassed to admit that my meal for the evening has become a two-egg-and-bagel sandwich. I refuse, however, to admit why. I’m sure you can work that out on your own.