Random writings: Gothic Life

 I've been sick the last day and a bit. As such all I've done, is sleep. I've had about 20 hours of sleep in the last 27 hours and now (as long as it took me to write the following) I will post this and go back to sleep. This evolved out of a dream I had earlier today and I thought it turned out pretty well. I like it enough to share - lets put it that way. I hope you enjoy it too.

One Last Glimpse,

~K

I hear the clicking and clacking of my shoes on the hard marble floor. My steps hasten, I’m already late and I want to get this over with. I’m uncomfortable being here in these surroundings. I feel like a fraud, and I suppose in essence I am. Something, which I’m not accustomed to doing, is putting on false airs and faking my way through things. Even though, that is what my life has become but for whatever reason I prefer a direct honest approach, and so, as a result I am twitchy and uncomfortable – which is funny considering, but this is different. I try to shake off the feeling and pull myself together.

The sunlight streaming in the windows warms my face in hues of green, blue, amber and fuchsia from the stained glass. A Gregorian chant echoes and emanates off the high stonewalls and reaches my ears. It’s in Latin and while it sounds like gibberish to many, I understand it completely. It is a plea, a plea to an unforeseen force and omnipresence for understanding and mercy. A personal request of forgiveness, for divine intervention and of solace in its song, forgiveness for trespasses and sins, both seen and unseen.

I can see the ornate shiny dark wood carved box at the end of the aisle, I don’t make my way towards it – instead I make my way to my seat. I’ve seen all I need to see, and I’ve seen it all before many times over. The satin that lines the casket is almost impossible to see with the amount of flowers that are situated around it. The floral smell fills my nostrils in its bright pungent brilliant smell. It’s almost overwhelming to the senses. A large photograph sits at the end of the coffin; his smirking smile and green eyes mock me as only he can, I can see myself in the face of my brother - a familiarity. I feel a moment of amusement wash over me as a wail rises up from the congregation in the middle of all this pomp and circumstance. If they only knew the truth. I overt my eyes from the photo as not to laugh at the mockery being made with this escapade, pageantry and staged event – this isn’t the first time we’ve had to do this and it won’t be the last.

For me it is as much of a ritualistic event as for everyone else, but to a different end. To some, it is a time for mourning and remembering, for others it is a time of forgiveness and receiving solace in the arms of family and friends. For me, it is a play, a performance, and another falsehood to add to the many that have gone before and that I will continue to add to the list.

I focus and sigh and bring myself back to the task at hand. I feel the cool, smooth wood under my fingertips as I glide my hand along the back of the pew, as I slide into my seat. And then, as if out of ritual – I lower my head out of respect and cross myself, but to what end I question? There is no purpose or point to it. In the end it will do me no good, no divine intervention can save me now – and I am fully aware of my humanity and mortality.

He coughs, clearing his throat, announcing his presence and slips into the pew from the opposite end and sits down beside me. His long woolen coat wet from the freshly fallen snow that is now melting into the fibers. Out of the corner of my eye I can see his long hair falling to his broad shoulders. He sits upright, tall and proud facing forward, never once turning to look at me. We are both there for the same reason, the same purpose, and while neither of us wants to be there – it is our duty. It’s expected and an unwritten understanding that both of us be there.

He flips his hand upward, exposing his palm to me saying nothing as I slip my hand into his. We close fingers and stare forward, still saying nothing. But as it was before, it is again, as it forever shall be. We are one.

My eyes glance around the large Gothic structure, trying to focus over the din. The din of the now overwhelming pipe organ music, which seems to have reached its crescendo in its hymnal along with the choir whose voices too are reaching their peak. Its moody and melodramatic climax drawing close, something, which is to bring comfort, is boasting a mood of foul dread and despair. 

“I’ve never understood this archaic ritual you know.” His voice suddenly whispers in my mind. Why he’s whispering I’ll never understand – perhaps it’s the surroundings.

“What archaic ritual? A funeral?” I reply without uttering a sound

“Yes. What’s the point?” he answers

“The point…” her voice interrupts “Is to make one think that we have moved on. We can’t exactly live forever.”

“But we have lived forever.” His voice replies, almost whining.

“We can make your death permanent any time you’d like dear brother.” She says with a hint of sarcastic wit

“I’ll take a pass on that, I thank you. Where are you seated anyway?” he replies smirking slightly

“Up front, as only a doting wife would who has lost her husband would do.”

“I think he quite enjoys these rituals.” I smile “I can’t say as I blame him, beautiful flowers, people dressed up – shame he misses out on the party afterward, people saying nice things about you. All that.”

“Dressed up – please!” he finally speaks up “I about sat up and gave Madame Voulnieu a right dressing down for her choice of attire for my funeral. How dare she wear such a gaudy outfit! Honestly!”

I choke back a laugh, drawing my hand up to my face to compose myself. The music stops, and the priest donned in ornate robes appears in the sanctuary, we rise as one collective and makes his way to the pulpit to call to order the gathering and to begin the ceremony.

“Shhh… I quite like this part.” His silent voice from the ornate casket whispers to us, my hand is given a slight squeeze, I smile looking up towards the coffin – and for just a hint of a moment, I think I see a smile creeping across my ‘deceased’ brother’s face.

"A night with Elton and Friends"

About two weeks ago a text message from my friend Nat came in asking if Alan and i would like to go see a local Elton John impersonator. it sounded like a great time to me, so after speaking with my hubby, we decided we'd go.

The thing about impersonators is this... they are either REALLY good, or they're REALLY bad... OR they're REALLY bad but THINK that they are really good. Now, the latter can be fun and funny, but with all impersonations in general it's a crap shoot.

Hubby and I

My husband Alan has been horribly ill this last week with a serious chest cold. Coughing and just generally not well. He doesn't get sick often, but when he does...he is typically out for the count. He put on a brace face Saturday evening, took a bunch of cold meds (including cough syrup which he LOATHES) and off we went.

Nat and Shawn

After a brief stop at our friend's house for drinks we went to the restaurant just up the road from their place. The town/village they live in is small, but it's a happening hot spot in the summer as it's right by the beach. But at this time of year it's sleepy and quiet with only the residents being there (for the most part).
The restaurant itself is, or could be quaint and has a huge amount of potential. It's right on the canal, and in the summer could boast a great view...but...The glass external wall, for a sizeable portion, faces out toward the parking lot for some reason instead of toward the canal - and I'm certain the glass has not been replaced since the late 70s early 80s. It's single pane glass, no insulation, and as a result more than half of the 30 some patrons sat freezing our asses off. Most of the people sitting around had their coats on for more than half the night. (For the record we were there from 6:30pm until almost 10pm).

Let me start off by saying this...I know I get cold easily. I like to be warm and toasty when I go out (or when I'm in for that matter). I like to be comfortable. Usually my "comfortable" is Alan's sweltering but his internal thermostat is wonky anyway, so he doesn't count. Myself and my friend Nat were freezing, the lady at the next table had her fur coat on and so did about 85% of the rest of the place. There were a LOT of woman (and the men) sitting around last night that probably could have cut glass if you catch my meaning.

The whole dinner and show was 45$ or just 20$ for the show which was resonable. In retrospect I wish we had had our dinner prior elsewhere and just gone for the show. 25$ for what we ate was NOT worth it. The show was COMPLETELY worth 20$ however.

Options for dinner were limited and I do mean limited. There was either breaded perch or if you "absolutely could not have the perch" they were 'allowed to' offer "some sort of orange chicken" but they were 'told not to push that over the fish' (The waitress's words) for the other option. I am curious to know what other option we would have had if we couldn't have had either.

When she asked us what we wanted to drink "they can make everything" I was told. I told her I'd like a pina colada. She stared at me and said "That they didn't make those in the off season". So you CAN'T make "EVERYTHING". They could have gotten me wine (which i don't care for), beer (which I didn't want), soda pop, coffee/tea...or...they manage in the end to make me something that marginally resembled a Long island iced tea. It wasn't the worst I've ever had, but certainly was by no means the best either.

First we were served a soup, which we werent told at ny point what kind of soup it was - and to be honest, it was in my opinion - the best part of the meal. it was some sort of smokey ham/bacon soup with chick peas (which I don't care for -- I ate around them). But it was flavourful and good.

And then the dinner came - it was...mediocre. You could have fries, rice pilaf or "some sort of garlic mashed with onions, green peppers with cheese on top - that I'm not even going to bother to try to pronounce" said our waitress. I had the fries, which weren't bad. The fish was not the best, you were given four large pieces of fish, fries and then these shaved coined carrots with shaved almonds and raisins...which immediately made me think of my friend Rachel who loathes things with raisins in them. It gave me a giggle I have to say.

For dessert was pecan pie or chocolate pecan pie. When I heard her say chocolate pecan pie I thought it was some sort of chocolate mouse with the odd pecan either in it or perhaps on top. It wasn't my favourite...in fact i don't like pecan pie at all so I ordered the chocolate pecan pie and figured I'd leave the pecans behind and eat around it. No. It was pecan pie with minimal chocolate syrup glazed on top.

My friend emailed the restaurant today with expression of concern for a couple of improvements (I guess they're cutlery had not been clean - a BIG stickler for me) as well as the other problems we had had. The response was excuses (lame ones at that - I've read the response) "Anyone who opens the front door and the heat escapes" What? Get better heating or insulation then! And when she inquired if the food had been 'pre-plated' the response was that there was no need to do that as it only took 'three minutes to prepare". Mmmm fresh frozen fish! And the reason why we only saw our waitress 4 times the whole night? "Because the entertainment doesn't like the interruption." WOW. Way to accept NO responsibility folks.

Nat and me with "Sir Elton".

The performance was great, it really was. He went for two solid hours, without a break, sang all "his" greatest hits in character and then afterward expressed to my husband that the show had been a "shortened" one because he was fighting off a cold and still had to do a Sunday show. 

Honestly, had it not been for the company and the entertainment, the night would have been a total wash. The guy who impersonated Elton did a fantastic job!! Not only did he sound like him, but even bore a decent enough resemblance to him with minimal effort - right down to the space between his teeth. He was great! I'd totally go back and see him again....but I'd eat elsewhere first.

One Last Glimpse,

~K

Insomnia and gasbar Glamazon ranting

It's 5am. Normally I am LONG in bed, but for some reason -- for whatever reason I'm awake. For the second night in a row. This is freaking ridiculous and I am not impressed. If I actually accomplished something (outside of writing this -- and to be honest I'm only babbling here because...well... I may as well do something productive right?) then that would be one thing, but I'm not saving the world or working on nuclear fission or anything as astonishing like that. But I suppose writing this is something right?

I worked today, I wasn't there more than 20 minutes and I wanted to rip my co-worker a new one. Computers crashed right before shift change and of course she FREAKED because she can't handle a damn thing. So here she is on the phone with our boss, and she's trying to get stuff done to fix it. She has NO clue what she's doing, and is freaking out instead of being calm about it -- she's wigging. Fine whatever. I'm texting my boss suggesting things rather than interrupting the conversation she's having with my co-worker. And it comes about that she (my boss) wants us to reboot the computers, which you can't do until no one is pumping gas. Fine. So as we're getting rid of customers my co-worker is shutting off pumps so no one can pump the gas. Fine no big deal. I see an employee of the main store walking across the parking lot (coming to get her ciggies on her break) and before I reboot my computer I get her ciggies and her scratch lotto card and ring her through. WELL, you'd of thought I had done the worst imaginable thing, and co-worker starts bitching at my boss about me...WHILE I'm standing right there. HELLO. Stupid bitch. So she heads into the back room once I'm done with my customer, because she KNOWS I'll lay into her if she's standing there and there's no one in the store. So I reboot my computer like my boss wanted me to. KNOWING my boss is telling said co-worker to STFU and get over it. She bitched about it longer than it took me to ring the chick through for fuck sakes. Like really? Whatever.

So that's fine, computers come up -- problem solved. She leaves. (Buh bye don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out the fucking door). I speak to my boss later this evening only to find out that said co-worker had already gotten in shit for something MAJOR just prior to me coming into work (like shit that can get not only my BOSS in trouble but also could get my co-worker fired), so when this went down she was looking for ANY reason to throw me under the bus -- after all she had just gotten into trouble...why shouldn't I? Yep! That's the kinda person my co-worker is folks. Fun work environment eh???

My boss btw couldn't have given two shits that I rang the ciggie lady through, MOREOVER she said she would have done the SAME THING and TOLD my co-worker that! Which of course made her have a hate-on for me even more. Do I look like I care that this woman hates me??? (For the record...the answer is no).

Fast forward to later on in the evening.. it's now JUST after 10pm and I finally get a moment to go to the washroom. As I'm sitting in the washroom, I hear the familiar "ding" of someone having lifted the nozzle on the gas pump and trying to get gas. Which they can't do until I authorize it inside...but being that I was sitting on "the throne" they were shit out of luck until I was done. So I finish, leave the washroom, and go out and see that the person is on the outside lane. You know what that means kids! YEP! Pay at the pump only. I explain this to the gentleman politely and he starts to walk towards me (obviously to pay inside). I inform him that he needs to hang the nozzle up first before I can do anything. At this point he looks at me, waves his hands in the air gesturing "What the fuck" type motion, turns on his heel and goes back to the pump, hangs it up, puts his gas cap back on...walks around to the drivers side -- glares at me and flips me the bird. I stare at him, smile broadly, blow him a kiss and wave.

I'm off for a few days and then into work almost all of next week. My boss is on holiday and I am stuck with the bitch. It should be interesting. She'll only try to tell me what to do once before I fucking kick her ever loving ass. My boss has made it ABUNDANTLY clear to me that she is NOT in charge and that she is going to make it ABUNDANTLY clear to her. My brother in law (who owns a different site in the city) is actually in charge -- she can't staaaaaand my brother in law (simply because he's my brother in law).

Should be a FUN week!!!

One Last Glimpse,

~K

TV Mania - Bored with Prozac and the Internet

It's artsy, it's fartsy, it's high glam, high heeled, high gloss, lip gloss and an acid trip enigma all rolled into one - and I haven't even heard the album yet.

I'm speaking of @TVManiaMusic on Twitter. In case you have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, TVMania is a side project from members of Duran Duran comprised of Warren Cuccurullo (former guitarist for Duran) and Nick Rhodes. Their concept album "Bored with Prozac and the Internet" drops March 11th after locating some thought lost tapes and a long (LONG) gestation period (18 years).

 Bored with Prozac and the Internet - Album Cover Art

A few weeks ago the @tvmaniamusic handle was broadcast by Duran Duran and of course, like others - I followed. Curious to see what would be Tweeted that could not be handled by @duranduran and more over who would be doing the Tweeting.

Earlier this week the @tvmaniamusic handle went "live" and tweets started pouring out. And of course then the questions began "Who was behind the Tweets"? In my opinion, it is Nick behind the controls (affectionately referred to as "The Controller" within Duran Duran) doing the Tweeting. As much as he said he would never get on Twitter (unless he could find a way to make it an artistic way to express himself, as opposed to the way most of us use Twitter) - the turns of phrase and the artistry - all scream the venerable, Nick Rhodes.

Lord Rhodes and Captain Cuccurullo

I personally am intregued by the tweets thus far and look froward to getting the album when it is released in March. Do I understand what all of the Tweets are supposed to mean? Some yes - they speak to me on a personal level. Others? No - and I would never pretend to 'get' all of them. But who says I have to? Who says you're SUPPOSED to? Why can't a Tweet just be a Tweet? Why does it have to have meaning? Does art have to have a meaning?? No. Sometimes it's just art.

On a personal note: I know many others are saying "I don't get it" or "the tweets are too weird" and have started taking pot shots and making fun of Nick (or whomever is behind the Tweets for TvMania). That's fine if you don't get/enjoy them - you don't have to. Keep in mind, WHOEVER is behind these tweets however, would never condescend to make fun of your tweets; especially not to your 'face'; about the way you have chosen to express yourself or you as a person, the way some people have. Grow up.

I'm looking forward to hearing this album, I'm sure it will be a departure from Duran even though it is within the same family. Maybe I'll like it, maybe I won't, but in either case I look forward to it.

Track List:

1. "What About God?"
2. "Euphoria"
3. "Beautiful Clothes"
4. "You’re Dreaming Pal"
5. "Paramount"
6. "What’s In The Future?"
7. "I Wanna Make Films"
8. "Yoghurt and Fake Tan"
9. "Grab The Sun"
10. "Using A Hidden Camera - Eyes In The Sky"
11. "People Know Your Name"

One Last Glimpse,

~K

Winds of change that blow in my direction

I'm sitting here listening to a two hour Duran special on Total Radio UK and currently "Save a Prayer" is playing. I've always liked this song, appreciated it. It's got a FANTASTIC mystical synth melody and of course it's ever present counter-part tune thrumming along in the bass line (equally as amazing). But today, for whatever reason - I'm feeling a little melancholy as I listen to this song. It's never made me cry, never made me feel sad as I know it has many others. Today...the music in general is ebbing it's way into my essence just that little bit more than normal.

I find I'm emotional lately. Twitchy. Perhaps it's the weather, or the time of year -- I'm eager for the winter to go away, but honestly -- I don't think so. I think it's got more to it than that. More substance. Could there actually be some sort of cosmic shift that has occurred? I know I'm not the only person who is saying and thinking the exact same thing I am, is it possible? Is it some sort of cosmic Revolution? A time to rise up and take a stand? For what? A new way of life? A new destiny? A new beginning? An end to the unsettled, unstable world? A new dawn beginning, a time for change, thought, love and direction on a peaceful level. It's a great thought.

VIVE LA REVOLUTION and VIVE LA RESISTANCE says I if that's the case. Enjoy life, AND LEARN...there's a wealth of knowledge out there to learn, to know, to see. You could amaze yourself with the knowledge you could uncover and things you could learn. As I understand it we only use 10% of our brains on average folks. TEN. PERCENT. These people who whine and mew and carry on about how they're 'stupid' or they 'can't learn anything'. No, you're not stupid. The only stupid thing about you is that you're impeding yourself from learning something. You're lazy. You don't want to learn, so you won't learn.

I know this post is all over the map. I know it's chaotic and it started off with the Duran special, but this is my thought patterns lately. All over and chaotic. Half the time I can't even keep up. But, if you've made it this far...if you take anything away from this post, I hope it's a peaceful journey for you into this new year and seemingly new era. Follow your dreams, take a chance, learn something new. You'll never know where life will take you and who you may meet or become by taking a chance.

One Last Glimpse,

~K

Childhood memories...

When I was 5, my parents divorced...I have a fairly recollection of it, but have no real sob-fest story to tell outside of the fact that I remember clearly the day my Dad left. (Although we have NEVER spoken of it). Although I don't remember my parents having any big rows or anything. Just that one day my Dad was there, the next day...house was up for sale, my Dad moved out and so did we...without my Dad. At that point, no reason was given - later when one was given, it was always 'we just didn't get along anymore'. No one sold anyone out, no one back-stabbed the other, it was all very amicable as far as my sister and I knew, even if it wasn't.

My parents had belonged to a local choral group that later broke off into a separate faction. My Dad quit the choral group but my Mother continued with it. Usually a few times a year they would put together a 'Showcase' and either perform a musical OR various songs/skits. It comprised of about 50 or so people who were, for a few years of my life, more like an extended family.

We had our Aunt Brenda and Uncle Ken who were like an actual Aunt and Uncle - I never thought of them any different. My Mother had babysat for them when they had first come over from Britain when my Mom was a teen, and even to this day we are quite close with their family.

We had my Mom's friend Anne, who I always thought of kind of like Bette Midler. She is a larger than life woman who I always thought was just awe inspiring and even now I think she is possibly one of the most beautiful women I have ever met.

All these people while my world was in a state of transition as a child helped smooth that over so that my sister and I (or my Mom) were never at a lack for anything. And I am eternally grateful for that.

I can remember going to rehearsals with my Mom and while the cast were rehearsing, my sister and I would usually play with the other kids who had come with their parents. There were a few people who my Mom had become quite friendly and close with that I called my Aunt Linda and Uncle Malc(olm). They were a childless married couple who adored my sister and I. My Aunt Linda was a lovely British woman whom I adored dearly, she was always friendly and smiling. I remember the first time I ever had my hair curled (Not that it needed it -- I had very curly hair as a child) was by my Aunt Linda. I think she did it more to humor me than anything else but I remember she did it none the less.

Then, there was my Uncle Malc. I can see and admit it now, I had a crush on him. But honestly; aside from that; I thought the sun rose and set on this man. And to be honest, I'd like to think he thought the same about me. We had a bond, no doubt about it. We were thick as thieves the two of us, where you saw me, you saw my Uncle Malc. He was a large, burly man with a Scottish accent thick as anything. He had jet black hair and a mustache and beard to match and handsome as all get out.

For the better part of two, maybe even three years were spent within the safety and love of my Aunt Linda and Uncle Malc. Almost everyday going to their house, we practically lived there.  And I loved it.

At one point, there was an unfortunate falling out between my Mother, and my Uncle Malc. He had done something (I won't get into what - that's not what this entry is about) that shattered the friendship and that was it... I haven't seen him since. I was devastated.

Occasionally on nights like tonight I go searching for Uncle Malc (I know where my Aunt Linda is -- she is no longer with Uncle Malc and hasn't been for years). I just want to see a picture, to make sure he's okay...you know? I Googled him, and Facebooked him this evening (he's not on Facebook as far as I could see) -- I am relieved to say he's still alive. Not that I expected he'd be dead, but lets face it...you never know. I'd love to, at some point in my life see him again, even if from a distance to see if I recognize him still... I'd like to think I would and that he would know and remember me... but I don't know that for sure.

I think, out of all of the people who have come and gone from my life outside of one other (that are still alive), he is the only other person who could set me to tears just by seeing his face. And I'd really like to someday, just to let him know... even though the friendship between my Mother and he was shattered, I never forgot him, and never ever felt like he betrayed me by going away.

One Last Glimpse,

~K

First Gasbar Glamazon post of 2013: A glimmering ray of hope for humanity?! NOT!

First Gasbar Glamazon post of 2013! Well, I made it to mid-January without a moron report. I won't go so far as to say there's hope for humanity yet... but maybe? Possibly? Naahhh, people are still morons. (You didn't really think I had hope for these people did you??)

Typical gas bar bullshit with the outside pay at the pump only lane. Card in card out, get on the PA and explain SLOWLY exactly how to do it. People sill being fucking idiots. But today may be one for the record books.

This lady pulls up to pump 8 in her little 1984 Chevy Chevette, decked to the nines in heels, a fur coat, jewelery you name it - with redneck teeth or tooth as the case may be. She tries umpteen times to get her card to take out at the pumps, no joy. She comes inside huffs and sighs while she has to wait in line - at this point I know this one is going to be just a real winner.

She gets to the counter and slams her card down and demands I tell her why her card  is being declined out at the pumps. I tell her I don't know why but we can try to do a prepay inside since she's already here. (Keep in mind I'm busy and have been since the moment I got here this afternoon). I try to put her card through. EIGHT TIMES. Each time...declined. She is RAGING at this point.

We don't see WHY the card is declined on our screen - just that it has been. If it's a bank card the customer screen will say INSF FUNDS but just DECLINED for credit cards. She asks to use the phone to call Mastercard. I give her the phone and she calls. While she is on the phone - THE COPS SHOW UP. It seems that the brainiac had reported her card STOLEN and had a note on the account for Mastercard to phone the police should there be an attempt on someone using the card.

So there they were in their donut eating, Barney Miller, Return to Mayberry glory in the middle of this shit show. The cops sort out that she hadn't recieved her new card yet, and had forgotten to call Mastercard back when she found it in her wallet so they could remove the note off her account.

So fine and dandy, the police leave and she goes to prepay for her gas so she can just get the hell out of dodge. And PULLS OUT THE SAME CREDIT CARD, realizes what she's done (I didn't say a WORD) grabs ANOTHER card and STILL gives ME attitude like this is all my fault somehow. Apparently it's my fault she is a total moron.

It's busy. Gas is a decent price, I get it. But why does it have to bring out the morons??

One Last Glimpse,

~K