Bebo

Blacktron One <blacktronone1>

"Onward,Forever"

	Canada Parts 9 and 10	438 Tage her
	Witchcraft For the few of you that read my pithy works,you'll no doubt have suffered slim dissapointment as a result of me skipping a week.So,sit back,relax with whatever you use and let me take you away.It's going to be a long one so strap yourself in. On Tuesday,Kristen and I were due to visit the Godin Factory,which is in Quebec.Sadly I tossed the number for it and had to deal with the French.Their people have done little to ingratiate themselves with your humble scribe so it should ccome as no surprise that I don't have anything positive to say,but the attitude of the chap on the 411 service(their 11 was apalling,galling(boom boom!)and unhelpful,especially as I found their number myself.We didn't get to go but we did make a journey to Ottowa,where I finally visited the Parliament buildings.Anyone can walk up and take in this warm and charming architecture,take photos and gaze across the river towards Quebec.There's a fire there that burns in a fountain,which was incredible to see as I haven't witnessed that before.Lots of people were photographing it,although I missed out because of phone issues.There's a bell round the back of the building,next to the mammoth raccoon that they were feeding on the grounds(!)which was part of the old belltower.The belltower was consumed by fire,and the sargeant at arms wrote;'The crowd were enamoured of the flames,and yet they were moved as one by the striking of the hour of midnight from the bell as the tower burned'.This was a profoundly moving image for me-the people,gathered together through this tragedy,hearing the peal of the bell through the fire,a defiant stroke in the face of this all-consuming adversity. Prior to this I visited Steve's Guitar again,and ruined yet another brand for myself by trying out an ESP Eclipse with a garish paintjob.Loaded with the ever popular EMG 81/85 set of active pickups this particular creature was all about the wail.No jazz is possible on such an instrument,no deft,subtle articulation,only raging powerchords,wailing solos and general chuggery,and I was aghast at it's inability to move outside it's long-haired,brutal comfort zone.This should have come as no surprise,and yet I was dissapointed.The balance was there,the shape was there,but the guitar felt stiff,unloving,resilient to this Strat-fancier attempting to play delicate,sombre music.I also purchased a nice sweater from the Gap,one of the items in my new(and terribly exicting for those reading I'm sure)wardrobe as I try and dress my age,shaping myself into a proper 27 year old instead of an old man in young mans' rags.I have done much thinking in my time here,as will have been evident,no doubt,in my previous columns.Many things have I come to realise. If I may be confessional for a period,I have changed.Not in a comic stance-my desire to share anecdotes,musician stories and non-felt racism have not changed,but my attitude towards myself and to the world around me is altered.Many is the time I have avoided/delayed courses of action to keep myself in a safe status quo,a situation where no difficulty is possible,but this is not the way.I have denied myself certain paths as a result of wishing to keep myself free from harm,free from dissidence,from contradiction at the hands and mouths of my peers.I have severed relationships,friendships even,for fear of not being cool(whatever that is),and for fear of being out of my social depth.Many is the ime I have felt outclassed by my social group,unable to defend my views and fearful of judgement at the hands of those I hold dear.I have not acted when and where I should have because of a pre-concieved notion of what is right and what is expected.You see,there is a man,who lives inside my mind,who is not afraid,who is confident,handsome,well dressed,musically able and socially accepted,even liked and loved by those around him.I am not that man.I am the man I think I am-slightly awkward,with silly hair(hence my constant shaving)and not as accomplished at his instrument as he would like,despite both encouragement and statements to the contrary.I see those around me as being of some higher plane,some non-reproachable place that I will never reach.If I've been in your company over the last 20-odd years this might be a bit strange to hear but it's all true-no lies on the internet(!).I have a very small window between joy and sadness,between a gentle,conversational defense of my feelings and aggression,probably as a result of my time at school.This is all very couch-based and should be mediated to someone in that profession,but the opportunity to write it down and share it with the people I know in a non-conversational setting is very liberating,and although this section is probably boring the tits off most of you I thank you for having the desire to press on. It's thanksgiving weekend here in Canada,where families gather together and give thanks for everything from the most insignificant,flippant larceny to the deepest familial love.I'm writing all this before people arrive for dinner(I'm still not dressed but it's only noon here)but I'm aware that following recent events this will probably be a fairly emotionally charged evening.After eating everyone goes round the table to give their thanks for things,and all I can hope is that I'm far down the chain so I know what to say and how long to say it for.There's a pumpkin speed-carving contest between dinner and dessert so there's everychance I'll return to the UK with a wrecked wrist and no fingers but we'll see.Always a good idea with kids around to have them hurrying with sharp objects but they do this every year and I haven't noticed many people without hands-you're far more likely to hit a deer while cycling.We saw 5 deer on the way home last night from picking up the pumpkins,which were at a farm a couple of iles away from the family home.At this farm there is a maze.It's made of corn(so it should probably be a maize)and Kristen and I ventured in at the owners insistence.It's strange how different minds work in these scenarios-while Kristen thought of 'Children Of The Corn' I opted to shout wildly for Kevin Costner,hoping(and not hoping..)that this was my opportunity to play baseball with the undead.At a certain juncture we seperated,and as the field is a daunting 6 acres I nervously plowed on,my fear of the dark(yes)coming into eerie play in the waning daylight.20 minutes after entering the maize I somehow emerged through the side into a large pumpkin field,to discover that my better half had got out 5 minutes after we went in and that my subconcious desire to 'find all the foam animals that would lead me to TREASURE' had resulted in us being late for dinner,a huge decrease in useable sunlight(from day to night in 20 minutes!!!)and the glorious task of loading 6 large pumpkins into a boot in the pitch black.After leaving the maize I met a young man with whom I shared stories of insect destruction,having only the night before shut a wasp in a door jamb because it was chasing me(I was in a towel).He told me of a fabled night at a camp he'd been attending where a young lady from the girl's side screamed for help upon finding,as he described it,a 'flying bug as big as a cat',which sounded like a helicopter taking off and made a solid thud when it tried to fly through the door they had to close to keep it in.'We nailed it with a metal bat',I was told,as the idea of a pet-sized military-grade insect covered in hair entered my mind.In a related incident,I was on the toilet the otherday(one of man's most vulnerable locations),flicking through Guitar and Bass when I noticed a worryingly sizeable insect on the light above me.As previously described there are always flies in the house at this time of year,huddling round the lights as the temperature drops to minus 25,so this wasn't a shock,but when the fucker took off I thought it was carrying an engine.BRRRRRRRRRUUUUMMMBBBRRRR went my winged assailant,aiming straight for my bog-bound face,which made me thrash at it with my magazine,ripping out a few of the pages in a desperate,movie-style struggle.I decided to make a break for it,opting to finish my business at another,less dangerous time,but as I looked around for the QE2 of insects it was nowhere to be found.I rose,slightly shaken,to wash my hands,only for the cheeky bastard to take off from my wrist brace,where it had clamped itself,not unlike the Millennium Falcon.I left,slightly impressed that it had taken such a clever course of action,and retired downstairs to the blue-tinged shrieks of my Canadian sweetheart playing PacMan. At the Good Food company yesterday I had a number of brainwaves.My hand was killing me despite my healthy Advil intake(and being able to fit my stupid Robo-Arm into my rubber gloves)and so I let my mind wander.Unbidden,I began to sing 'House Of The Rising Sun' in the voice of Christopher Walken,which was pleasingly suitable,before moving on to 'My Way' in the voice of Robert DeNiro.Requests to vocalise 'Part Of Your World' from the Little Mermaid in the voice of Oliver Reed were denied as I wasn't quite sure how to proceed.Midway through the day I was sent to a local shop to buy corn chips and,casting my apron aside,made for the door.As I entered the store,the lady behind the counter cast me a grim,hateful look,as if I had somehow touched a nerve in her with my presence.Approaching the counter with my sundries I asked her for a receipt,but instead of assisting me she stared at my 'KGB-still watching you' t-shirt for a full minute,clearly non-plussed at having to serve a member of the Red Army.A little surprised at this I returned with the items and,unable to find my previous apron,donned a black one that had mystically appeared by the door.As I was stacking cups I thought about Slayer,and much to the surprise of the people waiting to pay for their sandwiches(who I hadn't seen)broke into an altered version of their most famous song,'Apron Of Death'(marching the kitchen of the dead).This gave me a terrific idea to punulize(word?no)certain famous metal acts in the form of kitchen ware,but after the 'Apron' thing I wasn't sure where to go with it. I finally remembered how to get on to Nationstates.net again and I encourage you all to join and visit newly formed region 'Church Of The Wronginac' so we can swap terms that only make sense to us.I've been meaning to do this for a while and any input is highly encouraged.Plus,being part of Nationstates will get you to think a bit more about political and personal issues which is lots of fun As most of you know I will be returning home soon,on the 23rd of October.I should be able to put an entry in before I leave but just in case I don't I'd like to inform you of some changes in my world.I won't be returning to live in Glasgow.It's been a long time coming but I'm taking the plunge to really go at music and in order for me to do that the way that I want to I need to be closer to London.There's lots to like about Scotland but thanks to the wonder of the internet in keeping touch with people I no longer have to live there,though I will visit on frequent occasions such as weddings,birthdays,body disposals etc.It's been a difficult few years for me personally(as I know it has for many people)but I'm no longer happy in Glasgow and I don't see why I should have to be unhappy anymore.Fuck it,in fact.If I wanted to be bored,frustrated and stoned all the time I'd be back there sharpish but now it's time to turn a corner and make something of myself like I've always threatened to.I've spent too much time worried about taking that step because of failure and now I know that if it doesn't work out at least I tried. So,with that in mind I'm going for a shower and to get some painkillers as my hand is MURDER after this.Lots of love,kisses and everything and I'll see you all next Sunday on here or in person in the not too distant future. ONWARD,FOREVER.
	geschrieben von Blacktron One