On October the first I get connected proper to the internet. I am not familiar with Ontario's residency laws yet but I thought just to be fair I'd give Chapters one week's notice that I was moving out. I'm going to miss the lady who sits near the fireplace with an eight pound stack of magazines, and the man who fakes reading a geography text book in the corner of Sci-Fi and Fantasy so he can sleep when the store is low on nerds.
With the internet will, I hope, come the death of the cable t.v. being on. The one bedroom is not condusive to ever being somewhere that you can't hear the t.v. when it's on. If you had asked me, "Kyle, do you think you have the burning need to watch reruns of Community that you've already seen five times before?" I would have said no, not if I had my mind on my money and my money running out because I'm jobless. I was wrong. All of our crotchety Grandparents were right, and our vegitable Grandparents who couldn't be torn away from T.V. classics even to come to Thanksgiving dinner were just the first victims of it. The television is a devil box. It's not because reality shows are a flipped Geo away from being a literal human-trainwreck and it's not because CSI can't get through an episode without killing a stripper, interviewing a stripper or staking out a strip club. It's because there are sixty shitty shows on at any one time and when those end there are another sixty on. You can spend fifteen minutes just flipping through all those choices before you verify, because there are always a few on commercial, that all of the shows on at that moment are awful, but by then you may as well catch the end of something. Standards fall infinitely low unbelievably fast. You reaquaint yourself with watching commercials. I can name all three current cover girls. And it goes on, and it goes on. Even if you download an entire season of something, an end comes. It might cost you four days and breaking a date you forgot you made on Plenty of Fish, but an end does come. The natural human emotion of remorse stands a decent chance of shaming you into not downloading again for maybe a week.
I just want it to end. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to drink and watch Independence Day. It's on A&E.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Friday, September 14, 2012
Big Teasy
No dogs, I never left you.
Dying to know where I've been and what I've been doing? You're a god damn liar. I wrote a nine and a half part mini-series about South East Asia anyway because I know you all have too much time on your hands. You're not stopping to find out the issue of the day from the guy with the binder on the corner of the street. You walked right past him and his big smile, you can read this:
Part 1 Take Off
Part 2 The Phillippines and Effects of Anti-Malarials
Part 3 - 9.5 LATER OK?
Those links go to articles on NearlyRobots.com, which is website I started with Brittney and other friends you probably don't even know unless you are them. I thought all of my friends knew about this venture because I've been flogging it like a dead horse that took fifth place at the Kentucky Derby on Facebook. Yet still people who I assumed placed great weight in my status updates have proffessed their ignorance. What good is the Facer if you don't live on it?
I need a new phone. Thanks for the hand-me-down lil'sis but it turns out once a Telus phone always a Telus phone and the only way I'd ever go back to that company, that ugly ugly baby of a company, is if their brand of brain cancer waves was also found to cause heat vision. This is unfortunate because I spent a solid thirty minutes convincing myself that I didn't need the internet in my pocket and a $55 bill every month to be one of the cool kids. I'm wearing blue and orange plaid right now, button up. Have a fallen so far as the Galaxay SII?
Two days in Toronto and we don't have internet yet. I'm staying in an appartment connected to a church and they've got three wireless networks, all locked, (Anglicans - am I right?). WTFWJD IF HE HAD WIRELESS, HUH? He'd share his access to information with two mid-twenties peaking over the edge of their elongated adolescence, scared and trying not to eat Subway every day in THIS, OUR NATIONS LARGEST CITY! Hurumph. So far all we've got is Tim to come over visually inspect our toilet. He agrees that it does leak every time it is flushed. He'll back back with his wrenches and his cigarette smells tomorrow.
I live three minutes from where they film Much Music interviews. Much Music is Canadian MTV for those that don't know. They are similar, but MTV features much less teen pregnancy. I know what you're thinking, but the UN already condemned us for it so there is no use writting them another letter. Thanks for your concern though, it is admirable. .
Yesterday I was related the story of a girl who accidentally attached a photo of Nicholas Cage instead of herself to a job application. The 'buzz' generated got her an offer from a big social media company. No one ever tells you the way things really are until you're in the middle of it. My new resumé is either going to be an eight by ten glossy of Matthew Mcconaughey's bicep or me with a fake mustache glued to my butt. Expect to hear big things by the end of the week!
Dying to know where I've been and what I've been doing? You're a god damn liar. I wrote a nine and a half part mini-series about South East Asia anyway because I know you all have too much time on your hands. You're not stopping to find out the issue of the day from the guy with the binder on the corner of the street. You walked right past him and his big smile, you can read this:
Part 1 Take Off
Part 2 The Phillippines and Effects of Anti-Malarials
Part 3 - 9.5 LATER OK?
Those links go to articles on NearlyRobots.com, which is website I started with Brittney and other friends you probably don't even know unless you are them. I thought all of my friends knew about this venture because I've been flogging it like a dead horse that took fifth place at the Kentucky Derby on Facebook. Yet still people who I assumed placed great weight in my status updates have proffessed their ignorance. What good is the Facer if you don't live on it?
I need a new phone. Thanks for the hand-me-down lil'sis but it turns out once a Telus phone always a Telus phone and the only way I'd ever go back to that company, that ugly ugly baby of a company, is if their brand of brain cancer waves was also found to cause heat vision. This is unfortunate because I spent a solid thirty minutes convincing myself that I didn't need the internet in my pocket and a $55 bill every month to be one of the cool kids. I'm wearing blue and orange plaid right now, button up. Have a fallen so far as the Galaxay SII?
Two days in Toronto and we don't have internet yet. I'm staying in an appartment connected to a church and they've got three wireless networks, all locked, (Anglicans - am I right?). WTFWJD IF HE HAD WIRELESS, HUH? He'd share his access to information with two mid-twenties peaking over the edge of their elongated adolescence, scared and trying not to eat Subway every day in THIS, OUR NATIONS LARGEST CITY! Hurumph. So far all we've got is Tim to come over visually inspect our toilet. He agrees that it does leak every time it is flushed. He'll back back with his wrenches and his cigarette smells tomorrow.
I live three minutes from where they film Much Music interviews. Much Music is Canadian MTV for those that don't know. They are similar, but MTV features much less teen pregnancy. I know what you're thinking, but the UN already condemned us for it so there is no use writting them another letter. Thanks for your concern though, it is admirable. .
Yesterday I was related the story of a girl who accidentally attached a photo of Nicholas Cage instead of herself to a job application. The 'buzz' generated got her an offer from a big social media company. No one ever tells you the way things really are until you're in the middle of it. My new resumé is either going to be an eight by ten glossy of Matthew Mcconaughey's bicep or me with a fake mustache glued to my butt. Expect to hear big things by the end of the week!
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Last legs
We don't much have the patience to rifle through the guest houses down accommodation lane. I just smell the pillows and ask how much. I don't have a hat any more because I cut my hair and look like an idiot in a hat. I left the jeans I brought on the railing of an airport in Indonesia. I left a gray long sleeve Old Navy special on a bed in Laos. It's always been too damn hot for either of those things save for in the North of Vietnam. I don't have the sunglasses I bought in the Philippines but I bought an identical pair in Vang Vieng. I don't have a parasite, that I know of.
I don't have a sunburn currently, although I've got another week to get a last one. I don't look at much in the markets anymore. I don't want their stuff, all their same stuff everywhere shipped from China to hawkers stalls from Sumatra to Siem Reap. I don't have a handle on what's been happening in the world, I don't have the internet much. I know people aren't happy in Quebec and Syria. I don't mean to be crass. I don't get a lot of sleep these days.
I have a not quite healed broken toe from a 3 on 3 basketball game in the Philippines. I have a new scar on my wrist from when I nearly went through a wicker door in Cambodia. I have a crippling addiction to 'Toasties', a grilled ham and cheese pocket that can only be purchased in 7-11's in Thailand. Each day I have a new personal best in the category of "longest elapsed time without shaving." I have learned and forgotten how to say thank you in seven languages. I have a bamboo gun that shoots small rocks for someone as a present. I have bought a plane ticket that says "June 17" on it. I have an affliction much like a child has before Christmas. I have trouble getting to sleep because I am excited to see you.
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