Does Game of Thrones exist in a diechotomy?

This page sat blank for at least half an hour. Can I count it as my daily writing?

Frankly I feel a little blank. There’s a pall hanging over the office in stark contrast to the brilliant Spring day out the window. Everyone’s quiet, plodding. Movement has ground to a halt while people recover from a long weekend away. Even the flood of emails into my inbox has slowed to a trickle. Everyone’s exhausted, but remarkably nobody’s grumpy. It’s a comfortable haze, like yawning as a party winds down. Happy Birthday Victoria.

I skipped out on most physical activity for several days. My body is feeling it. I don’t know what it is about becoming regularly more up and atom, but an absense of movement really takes its toll. Like your body craves those sweet, sweet endorphins and without them, assumes you’re dying and withdraws accordingly. My limbs are slow and ungainly. My digestive tract has been a good little soldier, bravely scoffing down everything I passed its way (including but not limited to ice cream for breakfast, lunchtime steak and whatever leftovers ended up in that dinner pan), and now the rest of my system has forgotten how to extract the right nutrients. Or, y’know, I forgot how to give it the right nutrients. A bad workman blames his stools after all.

Egads it’s hard to motivate myself to write right now. My brain is swirling the drain, meekly calling out don’t talk about work. Don’t talk about Game of Thrones. Don’t talk about your holiday weekend. You’ve done it all to death. Some days it’s just not forthcoming. It happens. I’ve been mustering all my energy to simply stay awake. To keep my eyes open and meander through my day. I’ve even been keeping a normal walking speed in the hallways instead of racewalking. I have no idea how I’ll lift so much as a towel at the gym tonight. Why can’t they have one of those stupid vibrating platform things that’re touted as effortless muscle sculpting machines? Sure, they’re probably more likely to give you indigestion than work your body, but I could pretend I was doing a bunch while listening to a podcast. I could trick myself into sweet, sweet endorphins and feel like I’d made a real effort, when in fact I’ve failed to produce a modicum of effort to do a single thing today.

Speaking of which, it’s time to call this entry (that should’ve been pronounced dead on arrival). They can’t all be winners.

Advertisements

Imagination, life is your creation

Oh, I am well off my rocker today.

I woke up too early, started working from home, took my meds, ate not a lot, drank lots of coffee, and now my brain is being pulled in at least 11 directions at once. So let’s go with that. We’re leaving for the cottage in roughly 150 minutes, and neither my girlfriend nor I have packed. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve intermittently walked around the house ranting about irreverent things, and every once in a while I’ve dropped clothing onto a pile on my bed. It’s kind of packing. But also I’ve been working at the same time. And planning logistics with my girlfriend. And digging into old Ricky Gervais 80s popstar clips. And contemplating what I need to pack to go to a farm, when we’re probably gonna be stymied by shitty weather, spending most of it inside. Also it’s a working farm with animals. I’ll get to meet my first alpaca. So I possibly need to consider packing extra undies lest I shit my pants out of excitement.

It’s gonna be a full on weekend.

We’re driving down in my friend’s adorable pink VW convertible. It’s the epitome of a Barbie car, and it’s awesome. There’s also limited space, so that’s a concern. I might not be able to fit my 1kg tub of kimchi, which is where most of the concern kicks in. What happens when I get a craving that only fermented cabbage can satisfy? At this point in my life, I’m eating irresponsible quantities of it daily. Perhaps a weekend intervention is wise. If the weather is nice and we get to roll down the roof of the Barbie car, maybe that’ll make up for it. If nothing else, the rush of wind through my hair, communing with nature at its most spirited, will remind me that there’s life beyond impeccably spiced vinegary deliciousness. Mostly. I’ll still want kimchi, obviously. I have a problem and I’m not convinced I can stop any time.

The cottage has WiFi, so while I’m not gonna be spending a ton of time on the internet, rest assured that my entries will be coming hot and fast off the press with their usual lackadaisical timeliness. Expect very little from them, because I’m likely to be hungover, immensely tired or having my arteries filled to the brim with complex carbohydrates. I might even let loose, eat granola for breakfast, y’know? Get a little crazy. I don’t think we’ll approach Montreal levels of bread toxicity, but it’s not outside the realms of possibility.

More than anything, I’m tremendously excited for a weekend of unplugging from routine and spending intimate time with friends. There’s an element of headroom, where without having to think about scheduling, transit needs and all those other tethers keeping me locked down, I get a bit of my brain back. It sounds lofty, I know, but I always notice it when I’m on holiday or unencumbered by timelines. I feel more free to be myself (which says something, coming from my usual manic personality), and generally inhabit my mind more consciously. Three whole days of it. I can’t wait.

And I won’t have to for long, because I’ve been fucking around a bunch while writing this. Crunch time, see y’all.

Just a garden variety dope

Since I’m never not trying to figure out bits, I may as well use this space to get them on a page before tuning them. Guess what I’m doing today?

I’m not cool enough for legal weed to exist.

I’m so uncool, that if weed wasn’t legal, I would have no idea how to get any.

As an individual, I have no chill. When I invite gals over for Netflix, we watch the damn movie. And we probably watch Paddington, because it’s cute and I’m likely stoned.

When I smoke weed I do boring shit like go to the gym, cook a nice meal or spend THREE HOURS IN THE SUPERMARKET.

I was told a good rule of thumb is never to shop hungry. I have a new rule. It’s Don’t Buy Weed High. When I’m high, money doesn’t make sense.

You know when you first started flatting, and you got ambitious about how many veggies you could cook and eat in a week? A mature adult knows you cannot eat two cabbages in seven days. A student discovers graft vs host on day five.

The problem with buying weed when you’re innately boring, is it all sounds very exciting. Oh, you mean I could get creative and euphoric? Sure, I’ll take two. Social and talkative? Two of that one too. Chilled and focused? HERE’S MY WALLET. JUST TAKE IT. Anything to feel cool for once.

“Cool” is knowing what you want. If I was cool (and not an awkward quantity of stoned) I would’ve walked out with two grams. I left with seven, because I’m a sucker and the sales rep upsold me.

Seven grams is maybe six months worth of weed for me if I go hard and smoke heavy. WHY DID I BUY SO MUCH?
DID I THINK THEY WERE GONNA RUN OUT?
IT’S LEGAL NOW. THIS IS NOT A RESOURCE SCARCITY MODEL.

It gets worse, I already had a couple of grams at home. The new stuff is gonna go stale before I even have a chance to smoke it. It’s like buying two cabbages all over again. But you know what? I’m a boring adult, so I did what any boring adult would do. I bought a god damn vape.

Turns out online shopping is even dumber high.

Is dope gonna destroy society? Not if legalisation is any indica-tion

Happy 420, my duuuudes. Or something.

Why not? I talk about enough meaningless drivel on here, why not add some B7@zE it up in this bitch? A token’ entry, y’know? A friend of mine posted something today about 420, and how it’s important we don’t lose sight of the fact that weed and its legalisation still comes with baggage of racial inequality. Even now, there are still people held up in the prison system, serving sentences for something that’s entirely legal. We need to be pushing forward pardons for those with prior convictions, and moving to expunge their criminal records related to those behaviours that are no longer a crime. The system as it has been set up disproportionately advantages the rich and white, who’ve mostly always been above the law when it came to marijuana. Weed for many black people has meant targeted frisking on the street, planted evidence and a whole host of inhuman treatment by an uncaring system.

It’s something poignant to think about on a day that’s usually characterised by cartoony substance usage. When I think of 420, oftentimes oversized hemp leaves or comically large joints are first to mind. I think of people commodifying Carribean culture and colours as “their culture”. I think of people smoking up en masse in a public park. I think of Bob Marley being played over speakers. In general, a goofy celebration that recuses a lot of the legal inequalities that play out.

I think of how as of late, I’ve started to use weed for a variety of purposes, in a whole host of places. Occasionally I’ll smoke a CBD heavy strain before going to the gym. If I’m lifting light or doing a maintenance session, it helps me get in touch with my body and efficient movement. It’s nice before going for a run, letting my muscles relax a bit and follow a natural flow. I smoke it in evenings where I want to chill out, maybe cook a meal and relax watching something, then drift off to sleep easily. I use it as social lubricant when I’m going out with friends at a noisy location, or dance party. It’s helped me curb the amount that I drink, which can only be a positive healthy step. I’ll mostly smoke it on our porch, but I’ve also walked the street, pipe in hand, having a quiet toke. When I do, I think about how a year ago my behaviour would be illegal. How so many people were probably jailed for the same thing. I think about how little my actions are harming others, and the strawman farce that’s hounded marijuana for years. Now that it’s legal, where are all these social ills? Where’s the civic downfall heralded by the devil’s weed? Turns out it was just a crock of shit. Quelle surprise.

I’m happy that it’s finally been legalised. I like having the use of it in my life. I mean, I’m buying a vape for fuck’s sake. Clearly I’m a user. I also want to drive home that we still haven’t equalised the playing field. The substances are largely held by a large, inefficient governmental organisation, and licenses were likely given to people with some connection to the Ford family. Corruption is kind of the baseline with this provincial government. The few brick and mortar locations around are situated in high socioeconomic, largely white areas, giving an indication as to the kind of clientele they’re looking for. The message, is that weed is not for BIPOC, for people who could benefit from what it offers. Also the people who struggled for years trying to sell before it was legal are mostly being shut out of joining the industry. It’s kinda messy. I guess the only saving grace is that governmental weed is mostly shit, dry and undesirable. It’s overpriced, and the grey market still has a decent run of the city.

I don’t know if there’s a message to all of this. Enjoy yourselves, blaze it up, be responsible. Most of all, think about the privilege that lets you do so without fear of legal repercussions. We’re not all so lucky.

Glucose for comfort

“I ate too much and I’m tired” is such a common complaint of mine, that I probably wouldn’t notice any difference if I got mono.

It’s the afternoon and I’m exhausted for no good reason. I had a morning that flowed really well. Today’s been absent of egregious irritations. Most everyone I’ve interacted with has been in a decent mood. Treats have materialised on their own. I have dinner with friends tonight. Things are pretty snazzy. Yet I ate too many sweet things and my body is shutting down. The next time I start to complain about adversity in my life, someone hand me a mirror.

It’s alright. I just finished a 2pm coffee. Things should start moving soon.

Last night I read that coffee typically has a 5-7 hour halflife. Apparently it takes around 45 minutes for most of the caffeine to be absorbed by your body, but the tail lasts for many hours after that. I think this is measured on a 100-250mg or so dose. At those levels, coffee can bring focus, energy and low level comfort. Once the dose increases beyond that (think 300-500mg) it can plunge the brain into hyperactivity. I guess this is all known stuff. To clarify, a double espresso shot has about 80mg of caffeine. A 12oz drip coffee has around 120mg. What I thought fascinating was that your body doesn’t necessarily process caffeine quicker if it’s overloaded. It still goes through it at the same rate. So the more caffeine you have, the more there is trying to go through the same sized “hole”. Take too much and that tail can extend well beyond 7 hours. Do you want to stay up all night and freak out? Caffeine could be your new best friend.

It’s certainly one of mine, but we have our freakouts scheduled for the sunshine hours. It feels more socially acceptable and happy-go-lucky.

I’m in such a sugar-induced fugue right now, that I’ve been blankly staring at my screen for almost an hour. Do you ever “run out” of websites? Sure, there are likely more of them than numbers I could count to, but it gets hard at time to shunt your brain into exploring new ones. This can’t just be a *me* thing, surely? I know that, in certain contexts, I’ll have a bunch I cycle between. At work I’m looking up AV Club, Vulture, a few Magic the Gathering websites, Vox and Facebook. Once I get home, I’ll bring Reddit into the fold. No idea what stops me redditting in the office. It’s kinda bizarre though, right? It’s like I just got tired being old and adventuring beyond what’s known and safe became challenging.

Last night I tried reading a couple of wordpress blogs from people who’d liked my entries. That’s rare for me. I use this space as a way of being accountable to writing daily. It’s not a social zone or a way of “building my brand”. I’m not trying to push for more clicks or popularity. I don’t blame people who do, but it flat out doesn’t appeal to me. Still, I see some names pop up day by day. Some of those likes pop up so quickly I wonder if it’s algorithmic. They’ve already placed a like within a minute or two. I don’t honestly believe they’d be able to read the entry that quickly. I wonder who these people are, the people who follow what I do here. While I assume most of them are liking my posts to get reciprocal likes/clicks, this can’t be the case for all of them, can it?

One that I read was a hard read. It was the epitome of neckbearddom. It read like my blog from age 17. Who knows? Perhaps the guy was 17. That would’ve been a valid excuse if we were still in the early 2000s. I dunno, the writing was clunky. Uneconomical sentences. Awkwardly stilted phrasing, where more evocative words could’ve let the ideas breathe. It made me wonder about my own writing. I’m pretty loose with most rules. I write conversationally, flitter between sentence sizes, and season liberally with commas. I Oxford comma on a whim (or when I think it looks nice). Does this stuff matter to my audience? Is anyone out there using the same magnifying glass that I focused on neckbearddom?

Or have I eaten just enough sugar to see problems where they don’t exist?

Get this man a platter or there’ll be Hellapeños to pay

I’m feeling relatively fragile after my first all nighter in yonks. Be gentle, or something?

Goddamn if Halloween isn’t the fucking best time of year. Weirdo’s Christmas seems like the confluence of all my favourite things. It’s creativity and goodwill in abundance. People showing off the hard work they put into costumes, or even just the last minute hail Mary’s others luck into. The Internet becomes a nexus of inspiration and alley-ooping. Facebook, Reddit, Twitter, it’s awesome costume after awesome costume. Friends, friends of friends and complete strangers harnessing inspiration to cobble together something neat. Does it sound like I’m waffling and really saying nothing here? You’re probably right and I don’t give a damn. Here are some cool things about Halloween.

  • Candy Corn. Fuck you, Candy Corn is the shit. It’s got this bizarre dense softness to it that’s utterly pleasing. Also as a kid I just thought they were three coloured monster fangs.
  • Public transit gets better. When else do you get to see headless dudes and wraiths riding alongside disgruntled yuppies whose eternal mood is “busy”?
  • FOMO all the way down. Every night for a week or two there are awesome parties, quizzes, cult film screenings and seasonal drinks. There’s too much to do, which is among the best problems to have.
  • Feeling like a lazy piece of trash after excessive partying. It feels earned.
  • Nachos are appropriate for every meal. Breakfast? Breakfast nachos with eggs and baked beans. Lunch nachos? I dunno, some kind of nacho sandwich. Dinner nachos? Cook a steak and rest it on a bed of chips/beans.
  • Look, I kind of just want nachos now.
  • Has anyone ever tossed beef and cheese atop corn on the cob for deconstructed nachos?
  • Because I care, I’m gonna be honest. I’ve made the typo “nachoes” too many times in the past minute or two to accept that I really know how to spell it.
  • Are cookies covered in ice cream and sprinkles dessert nachos? You could even scatter candy corn around for extra festive flair.
  • Do I really have to wait another half hour for the local dive bar to open so I can get mediocre nachos and a beer? That is pretty spooky.
  • I feel like I drifted off topic a little, but hey. I promised you nothing right off the top.
  • Speaking of which, the sour cream dump on nachos always feels like a trap. Take one dip and you’ve lost all your toppings. The sour cream becomes a thick morass of salsa streaks and lost olives. I have used smooth cottage cheese instead and it’s 1000% better.
  • There’s a 0000% chance I don’t eat nachos after this post. Which I’m saying only in the hopes that I stay accountable to myself. Because if that isn’t self-care, I don’t know what is.
  • There’s a possibility that I just don’t know what self-care is. If it means nachos tonight though, I’m diving in with both hands.
  • Primarily because using cutlery for nachos is practically treason.
  • I’m starting to question the value of this bullet point format, but it does make it look like I have lots of things to say.
  • Seriously, if you looked at this page without reading closely, I’m sure you’d think I had a bunch of impassioned points to make. Turns out I’m just jonesing for some low down tortilla.
  • In summation, Halloween is great but also nachos are too? Get that cheddar!

I think my work here is done.

From now on, I decree that all baskets be made of cheese

I now own several suits. I guess there was intention behind it, but it really just feels like they turned up one day. It’s gotten to the point where I now have more suits than occasions annually for which I’d need a suit.

Last night was one of those rare occasions. Every year I go to a fancy Toronto Library fundraiser called Hush Hush. Look, I’m not a fancy person. A large majority of the stuff in our place is second hand or scavenged from sidewalks. I seldom throw down a ton of money on new clothes, when I could just go to a thrift store instead. I’m not a fancy person. I just ate cabbage with tinned tuna and cottage cheese. I’m not a fancy person. It’s uncommon for me to go to the bathroom at home with the door closed. I’m not a fancy person. I have an alarmingly high threshold for eating food off the ground. I’m not a fancy person. I spend many minutes watching gifs of children falling over. I’m not a fancy person.

Look, what I’m trying to say is that this annual party is kinda special. It’s nice to get all fancied up on occasion. This year my girlfriend came too, which was a treat. She had a new dress that made her look like a goddamn princess and I… well, I had one of my several suits. The gendered fashion disparity was no more evident than at a shindig like Hush Hush. The women were garbed in all manner of interesting and provocative dresses. The dudes almost uniformly wore suits with shirts. Some guy had a bold red suit and another had fluorescent green socks, but they were the outliers. Hey, I looked fine, I’m not dumping on that, and we certainly looked a pair together. She just looked a little more extravagant than I did and that was fine. I was there to eat, drink and play games.

The food was great. I don’t know how to say that food options had been more interesting and varied in previous years without dumping on what was there. It still tasted great, it just wasn’t as exploratory. That said, there was this very tasty thinly sliced strip loin atop smoked carrots and some kind of spinach puree, topped with crunchy potato shavings. Of course there were sliders, because what do rich people love more than smaller versions of something that already exists? Sliders were great. Little truffle mac and cheese baskets came around and I grabbed them most every time they did. If I wasn’t explicit enough, they were tiny baskets made of crispy cheese, filled with truffle mac and cheese. Someone we chatted to earlier in the night told us to stay away from the vegan Philly cheesesteak, and look out for the tiny chicken Wellingtons. She was on the money. The Wellingtons were hard to track down. My girlfriend found one over the course of the evening, though I swear I saw sliders 5+ times. The vegan Philly cheesesteak? The “steak” didn’t have the taste or consistency of steak, and the “cheese” sauce tasted similarly uncheesy. I get that it was from a vegan cookbook that was being featured and they wanted to be flashy, but it just wasn’t a comparison. I think the A&W burger is the only vegetarian/vegan substitute I’ve had that tasted anything like the original. Why make so many substitutes and not just entirely different dishes? Beats me.

The booze was free flowing and all included in the ticket price. I mean, aside from the food that’s kinda the point of the event. For the most part it was great. They had three different bars set up, so you could always check out a different side of the room to see if it had shorter lines. A local distillery supplied their boutique black strap rum, moonshine and gin. There were speciality cocktails just for the event, though by the time I found out they had them, they’d already run out of the central ingredient. Wouldn’t you be pumped to try some kind of black strap rum, peach and habanero concoction? Alas, me too. The only bummer was getting stuck in a drink line for half an hour (of a four hour event. It was a while) ’cause multiple lines converged into one and everyone was ordering 5+ drinks for friends. Still, moonshine and ginger kept me buzzed all night and the wait for spirits didn’t do enough to damper mine.

Being a fundraiser for the library’s digital collection, they had a bunch of cool gizmos to play with. One selfie station made animated gifs that could be emailed to you. Another had a ring of cameras to take pseudo 3D photos. One more had a built in ring light for super defined shots. They had photographers walking around too. There were 3D printers making keychains for guests to take home. They had three VR games set up for partygoers to try. There was a big TV hooked up to a SNES/N64 emulator, so Mario was going all night. There was also a neat little arduino based light game that was simple to learn and neat to play.

So I ate a ton, drank a ton and played a couple of games. If this is what being fancy is like, maybe I need more suits.