Friday, February 10, 2006

Los Rawkiss Knee Bucklers ('you have to do something radical...')

I just watched a guy playing the flute in his car as he drove past. Doesn't quite have the same devil-may-care panache of the AC/DC guy who waggled drumsticks through his sunroof everytime he ripped down St. Denis in his 80's Accord. But then, he's a man of legend. I remember Graham and Steve concluding his favourite as Razor's Edge. Which holds up under the closest scrutiny as a most excellent driving tune, especially the live recording. At any rate, in this case, the flute's a bit more seasonal and better for closed-window (tinted, if possible) congested traffic.

Had a riproaring day yesterday, most literally towards the end (my roommates came home and gagged on the noxiousness of my fumes, Justine inquiring as to whether Isabel was asleep or simply unconcious. I think they misinterpretted my redface as borne of embarrassment, it was more from exertion and probable assphyxiation).

Steve and I had quite the episode of chess at Cafe Pi. The atmosphere, always to what I expected was our mutual taste, really made an impression on him. In his words: 'My grandfather's always said that every man needs a club' and, accordingly, 'The first rule of Pi...' It is a fantasy land, alighting on all the chess jockeys' minds as a place to make war on each other in peace. We drank coffee until we could've moved our pieces by jiggling against the table with our feet. So much cerebralism goes into the Pi concept: Red Bull and tripped-out art, musical oddities and humaniacal travesties. All gets processed and reconstitutes itself there as some sort of mineral buildup in the toilets. We did glean a number of noteworthy quotes from the air though, amongst them my favourite: 'In Russia, we have a saying: Treat the working girl like a queen, and treat the queen like a working girl.' It may've been contextual, but it struck me at that moment as particularly sage.

Isabel and I later went to a poetry and prose reading at the Yellow Door. It was good; inspiring work-ethic, commitment, skill-progression, peer-exposure and the like. We saw a deadringer for a your-pants-are-affecting-your-facial-expression Ben Stiller, whom I saw again this afternoon. Same guy, same facial expression. Deadringer, as phrase, comes from a not unreasonable Victorian fear of being misdiagnosed as dead and buried alive. Intricate bell-systems were consequently rigged up in graveyards, so you could jingle for help were you to come around. However, I think Ben Stiller'll be taxidermed. Don't think that'll stop him from making movies though.

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