So my desire to have a life has been quashed by a damn television show. I want to have copious amounts of alcohol (which I don't have, btw, nor can I afford after the shoe purchase (Carrie's rubbed off on me) amongst other things). So I'll stay in tonight, sober, and perhaps get some work done... but not likely, cause, again, motivation gone.
Plus my ears are still bleeding from last night, and I don't particularly feel like inflicting further damage on them.

who is Graig Kent at 9:59 PM?

huh? I wonder
If you were to meet me, you'd likely think... "hey, pleasant, but shy, and a little odd"
If you were to get an email from me you'd likely think... "holy crap, how many times did his mother drop him on his head?"
If you were to get a phone call from me you'd likely think... "who is this, hello? anyone there... who ees thees?"
The point: I'm kinda odd, and I wonder, sometimes, how others think of me.
I know my friends kinda find me amusing, and loyal, and sometimes just a dink.
My friends' friends kinda tolerate me, on the validation of my friends, and their confirmation that I am sometimes a dink.
People who don't know me, well, they do 1 of 2 things: smile and nod, and/or turn their attention elsewhere and run as fast and as far as possible sometimes screaming "what a dink!"
The point of this entire exercise:
I got to write "dink" three times.
When's the last time you called anyone a dink? The 80's. It's such a silly word... a euphamism for penis, and I never really understood why calling someone a penis was a big insult...
It's a little abbrasive yes, especially when delivered by such classic actors as Andrew "Dice" "Diceman" Clay or Frank Stallone: "Get outta my face you penis!" or "Back off, you penis!", but really... I mean, what is a penis? It's a long metal gardening tool with two prongs at the end, which, when turned in the soil, agitate the dirt and bring the potatos to the top. Is this really offensive?
I know plenty of farmers who would take proudly to being called this hardworking, durable tool.
Y'all peoples is strange and silly.
Grow up, whydon'cha.


who is Graig Kent at 5:55 PM?

I seriously need a laptop.

who is Graig Kent at 2:47 PM?

Yes, this is what I think about... that and the female host of Junkyard Wars (a 4th of July Marathon... 8 hours of JYW!!! 8 hours of Cathy Rogers...! sigh.)

who is Graig Kent at 2:15 PM?

Wow, I don't remember the last time I woke up at six a.m., come tomorrow I still wont. I didn't get to sleep last night.
Some suddent attack of insomnia (no, it wasn't Robin Williams) No matter how hard I tried I just couldn't fall asleep, the heat and the headache weren't helping.
I was stripped down to nothingness with the fan pointed right at me and I wasn't cooling down, and I wasn't able to sleep no matter how relaxed I got ... so I said "lets get more relaxed" and kicked it into gear with Rodney Yee doin' a full workout at 5am. Then I spent half an hour relaxing and knew the exact point when the earth broke her fever for the morning (5:44am). After a shower I opened the window and in rushed, gasp, cool air. Well, not cool air, but cooler air at least. It's nice at the moment, kind of tranquil and serene. Though I don't know how much longer I can stay awake for before another headache sets in.
Is it just me or are these sentences no coming together properly. My whole judgement caller thingy is way outta whack at the moment.

song of the day
for Stars: There Was A River
This song is like getting up early in the morning after not being able to sleep. Solemn, somber, and yet surprisingly uplifting and sweet. Just as beautiful as a sunset (when the piano kicks in I get shivers every time).

who is Graig Kent at 6:18 AM?

Gringo Starrs on the move: Crush Groove
I have no idea where the Gringos is at, but I have two new playpals from the kitchen.
I call them Steve Allen 1 and Steve Allen 2.
Now, they ain't like the Gringos. Nope, these guys are tiny and grey, and they have really long, almost translucent legs.
I separated the twins and one's now in the bathroom enjoying the homes of Gringos 1&2, whilst SteveAllen2 is cowering under the oven somewhere.

stinky shit!!!
man, I so don't feel like writing this all over again. jesus.
anyway...
Yeah. It stinks out.
We're on a garbage stike if anyone cares.
Funny thing (well, it was funny, the first time I wrote it) is there are signs put up over the opening of the g-bins saying "Temporarily Out Of Service: Please Do Not Litter"
Ironic thing is that half these signs are laying on the ground, other half were torn in half and the cans are now stuffed to the hilt with refuse.
And it smells.
Exiting my house, and I've noticed this for a few weeks before the strike, Toronto smells like spunk. I don't know who, how, what or why, but yes, it smells like spunk. At least on my street it does.
Down Queen Steet, walking west (on the north side, where the buildings provided 5:00 shadow, making the difference from 39degree heat and 54degree+ heat) the odour was decidedly more like three-week old Macaroni and Cheese. Yumm. Oh... yeah, and maggots.
Flashback!
a "before the legs were hairy" tale
When I was about 11 my family uprooted me from south end Thunder Bay livin to north end Thunder Bay livin. We moved into a new neighbourhood (not just new to me, but new in general, as it was still in development and would remain in development for almost a decade), and I liked to play around the construction sites and in the vacant lots.
One day I was jumping divots in one vacant lot, and more often than not landing on my ass (or my knees or face or elbows or etc...) ... then at one point I landed next to this tied up white plastic bag. I looked curiously at this Safeways bag (we, for no apparent reason, call Safeway "Safeways" in Thunder Bay), and grabbed it by the handles and lifted. Immediately the bottom split open and out spilled... well I don't know what, aside from thousands of white and squigglin maggots. The smell invoked an immediate gag reflex, but the instinct to get as far away from the stench was more overpowering. I grabbed my bike and ran. Every time I would play in a vacant lot afterwords, I'd always scout for plastic bags... and that smell, well that smell is what some of Toronto smells like... like there's thousands of maggoty garbage bags kicking around everywhere.
Sleep tight!
end flashback
So, yeah, it stinks.
But not as bad as this guy at the theatre...
Backstory:
I got to the Paramount around 6:45 for the 7:10 showing of the Bourne Identity. There's not many people here. Good.
So I take a seat at the back row, in front of the projection booth (see movie rant for why). I was hot, I was sweaty, and once I sat down and began to cool off I wasn't moving.
But 20 minutes later, people started coming, and more, and more and more. Crap. I mean, it was nice to see that there were people willing to move to allow couples and threesomes a place to sit, hands up in the air motioning that there are available seats next to them... wow, 9-11 has really inspired a sense of world community, or at least non-assholeishness at the theatre.
I, though, I wasn't moving. I got here early. I staked my claim. I'm an asshole.
And I'm punished for being an asshole, by way of "the fat guy". Yes, the fat guy sat next to me. Let's get this straight I have nothing at all against larger people. NOTHING, but this guy, well, the wider him took up more space, meaning he needed the armrest to my left, which I willingly conceeded, but his elbow creeping over the invisible barrier and into my territory, brushing my arm all too often.
But that's not the bad part... *snort* *snort* *snooorrrrt*
Oh, god, a snorter. But not just a snorter... *wheeze* *wheeze*...
A wheezer too. Someone hates me.
And that wasn't all. Aha, what a lovely smell we've discovered. Now, I'll admit, I worked up a pretty awful sweat walking for an hour in the heat, but I checked and mr. anti-perspirant had me smelling like an avalanche.
I spent a good portion of the movie leaning forward, with a finger in my left ear to block out mr. wheezy snort and my fingers (which were smelling great, having just eaten an M-Bar energy bar made by Goddess Goodness of Toronto) to my nose filtering the smell.
I hate the fucking theatres.
But the movie was good.
I did a review in the thing I wrote previously, but I'm too pissed off to write it again. Maybe another day. Not likely though.

hot hot heat
Yes, it's hot, and what's the best way to cool down?
Yes, crank your oven to 400degrees and cook some "lemonade chicken".
God I'm stupid.

hotter hotter heat
The heat really stimulates the germs that plague our earth, causing them to expand, multiply and grow.
Don't believe me? Stick your hand on a TTC rail, and feel how your hand sinks into the translucent patina of oils and other bodily vitriols that the thousand of other travellers have left behind as a little memento for everyone else to share.
Spreat the love.
God.
That's enough.
I'm done.
Too annoyed to go on.

who is Graig Kent at 11:41 PM?

And now... I'M GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE... NOW!
Seeya suckers!

who is Graig Kent at 5:08 PM?

My Balanescu 4 story

Back in '94, nearing the final days of my high school years, I listened to Brave New Waves a lot, often recording the late night show, and making mixed tapes from those various recording.
One night I fell asleep while listening (as I often did), but set the tape to record before I did. When I listened to the tape the next day, there it was, Brent Bambury rambling on about this new-era classical string quartet, and he then proceeded to play the entire album, citing it as "works from Luminitza".
I was instantly entranced. I had never heard anything like it, soothing and intense, obtuse and clear, strange and pretty... I didn't get the whole broadcast, maybe two thirds of the album (I know now I got up to the first few seconds of "Luminitza", track number 8 of 9, so almost all). I knew then that I had to get this album. And thus my search begun.
And died when I realized that Balanescu could be spelled dozens of ways: Balenesque, Balanesque, Ballanescue etc.
I was lost for a long long time. Even when the internet surge came, I tried feverously to find it, but no dice.
Then, in 1998 I took my first trip to Toronto for a Canadian University Press. I had two cds to hunt for: Luminitza and Corky and the Juice Pigs: Pants.
I found "Pants" used somewhere rather quickly. Luminitza I also found quickly, at Sam The Record Man on Yonge. And it was $42! Me being a relatively poor student (whereas now I'm just relatively poor) I couldn't justify a $42 cd no matter how much I desired it.
I continued searching but the only place to ever, ever, ever have it was Sam's. I eventually got the spelling right and found it on the net, but my desire to order it was waned by my confidence in internet security (very low, even had my Visa # appropriated by criminal means once...)
Flash forward to 2001. I move to Toronto. Luminitza is still at Sam's, three years later. Wow. And it's still $42 bucks. Wow.
Fast forward a few months, and Sam's announces it's going out of business. The weeks pass and the discounts get deeper. At 40% off I could justify the purchase of Lumnitza, took it home and listened. It sent shivers up my spine. Still does.
Now, I've got to find "Posessed" the "B4" covering Kraftwerk. Ooh mama!

who is Graig Kent at 2:23 PM?

*Gringo Starr Update*
Gringo Starr 2: Electric Boogaloo pulled a Gringo Starr 1 and up and disappeared.
I think my camera makes things disappear after I take pictures of them. Doesn't just steal their soul, it steals them!!!

who is Graig Kent at 4:41 AM?

huh.
I realized last night that I hate the sound of my own voice, and yet I love talking about myself. Ironic, isn't it?

song of the day
Courtesy of our friends at Epitonic it's:
I Am Kloot: Over My Shoulder, a quaint and poppy little tune, reminiscent of such bands as Swell and the Nectarine No. 9.

who is Graig Kent at 2:11 PM?

"This is pretty good watermelon...tastes like poop. I'm gonna have some cornflakes." - Stanley Spadowski in UHF

who is Graig Kent at 11:05 PM?

and joining us now, our voice coach:
Today's message is brought to you by "Mrs. Wiffles' Frozen Kitchen." Mrs. Wiffles' Corn-studded Carrots, you didn't think we could, but we did. Enjoy them frozen, thawed or boiled. Mrs. Wiffles' where cold is everything. Who wrote this crap copy? I can't do this. Jeezus.

that last message was brought to you by the audio commentary from "Mr. Show with Bob and David" on DVD. Because when you need outragously cornball comedy explained to you in full Dolby surround, you need the Audio Commentary from Mr. Show with Bob and David. Available almost nowhere.

tonight's dinner:
consists of
2 Eggo "waffles" (slathered with "Our Compliments" jam (rapsberry))
1 honkin slice of cheese diced up into many smaller bits ("Our Compliments", fort, starting to grow mold)
1 pickle (Bick's, dill w/o garlic)
1 small canister of yogurt (Yoplait, strawberry)
1 mug of lemonaid (Minute Maid from concentrait, watered down cause I'm thrifty)

Yes, strange supper. Why? Because I forgot to thaw the chicken. So it was one of those great "Lazy Bachelor" "what's on hand" meals.
Well, at least it was kinda healthy.

who is Graig Kent at 6:56 PM?

My new chewbacca@sauna.org page is up and ready for perusal. The only thing not ready yet is the "writings page," which will feature writings from shit poetry, to shit short stories, to any other shit of mine I have on file somewhere.
The "about me" page is kindof a lark right now...doing one of those "Graig is" Google searches, with some interesting results... my name is like the 1971st most popular name in the US... right above Tibor and Bort.
Some cool photog edits on the site tho... have a peek.

who is Graig Kent at 4:46 AM?

I smell a t-shirt coming!

who is Graig Kent at 1:40 AM?