I should be sleeping, but I still have yet to write, obviously. Problem being that the creative part of my brain isn’t kicking in to handily drag me across the line, so I’m gonna create genuine dialogue through artificial means. Time to be interviewed by a conversation generation bot:
Would you rather be homeless for a year or be in jail for a year?
Good question! Jeez, if this bot was on OK Cupid we’d likely have a few things to talk about. So the question really boils down to a matter of freedom vs security. How much do I trust in my own adaptability to new situations and talent for survival? Not heaps. Being homeless in Canada can be seriously life threatening for the winter months. Being in gaol would have its fair share of dangerous times, but I’m sure that for the vast majority of people prison is more boring than perilous. Being homeless you’d have the option to make something of yourself, take opportunities as they come and show your integrity through surviving on little more than your street smarts. I ain’t the wisest fella at all times, being often devoid of practical logic. I think I’d take the bars that come housed in 4 walls with 3 square meals a day. I think I’m inoffensive enough to get through a year without being shivved (I mean, I achieved the same in Rotorua, which was basically my own jail). Bring out the paddy wagon (which I recently learned was a racially loaded term. Who knew?) and load me on in. I’ve got an orange onesie to get used to.
What is your first memory?
I think I remember the creche at my mum’s gym. I don’t have any salient memories of specifics, but I know my best bud and I were kicking around together by that point. Years later I went to the same gym and flashed back to when the stretching room used to be my former creche. I don’t even know what age that was, maybe toddler-esque? The whole womb thing is a complete blackout in my mind, which leads me to believe that I started on this alcoholism thing early. Mum, be honest, did you have a glass or two while I was hanging out in your belly?
Do you prefer to take baths or showers?
Showers. Far more efficient and I like the reassuring water pressure. I get bored far too quickly in a bath. I’m bad at relaxing, it puts me on edge. If that sounds wonky, it’s that relaxing makes me think of all the things I could be doing instead. Not in a workaholic sense, but actual activities I could be engaging in to take up time. It’s why I can’t handle destination beach holidays. If you’re gonna be sitting on the sand, I’m more likely to be scouting out a nifty bush hike or finding shade to conserve energy for said activities.
What do you do to stay in shape?
I sleep in a bed of hot carbonite. Helps me keep my shape. This isn’t quite what was being asked, right? I do crossfit (while remaining as non-culty and hardcore as possible), I’ve started casually rock climbing and occasionally I’ll jog or swim laps. I do enough that I my shape should be a lean one. Thing is, to achieve my particular shape I also throw in a fair bit of liquor, greasy food and sedentary activity. You asked, I’ll tell.
What did you have for lunch yesterday?
A barbecue pork Banh Mi from that dirt cheap Spadina place. I try not to eat that much bread, but they’re delicious and affordable while also having potentially questionable meats inside. It just looks like they scrape any carrion off the streetcar tracks then throw it in a vat of preservatives before cutting it into chunks and throwing it onto your bun. What’s not to love?
What do you like to do on a rainy day?
The same thing I do every other day, Pinky. I do a ton of indoor stuff anyway, many hours spent right here, in front of my screen questing for things to watch read or play. Wear a onesie. Preferably not orange. Sex. Sex is fine most times, but cultivating a steamy, intimate environment indoors while the rain buckets down outside is one of the more pleasing contrasts around. I still have yet to have sex while wearing a onesie, but I’m probably not far off. Depends just how cold it gets, my gratuitously baggy onesie could probably fit my girlfriend at the same tiem. Could we snuggle inside the onesie? With love, anything is possible.
Well that was a fun date. If you want to hear more next time, buy me a drink conversationstarters.com