Monday, 26 July, 2010
cheswick?...you're voluntary?
my website goes down like a peruvian donkey.
but always comes back with a big horn honky.
silly and sold, the bottle grows old.
as usual, all is destroyed, mixed with drinks by woody boyd.
summer weekends constantly breed a dangerous mix of intoxicating winks.
i have cased the area, there are no more cases in the area.
the houseboat theme is 'animals,' so i need to stop by the zoo.
and skin several deadly costumes.
the killing field will be photographed, and should appear on national geographic television.
great band practice tonight, first in a while.
its sometimes hard to be in a band when your life is already pretty awesome.
yet we all miss and crave that feeling of new creation, so we still create.
nice shirt, cheseroo.
does this update fans or foes?
ive been trying to lower my folesterol.
more friends, less falls.
its all gonna keep on, keepin on.
slurring the words to the simplest songs.
drawing the background, before it moves along.
productivity has many faces, i makeout with lots of them.
Sunday, 4 July, 2010
don't push me bob, now's not the time
the cbc knows how to sooth me after a 4-day-double-weekend bender.
especially after shooting a 92 today, when the goal was 89.
4 pars on the front, 1 lonely friend on the back.
need to play more playland mini-golf.
the big TV fight pulled me from beer gardens way too early last night.
although i enjoyed it, i wish i woke up in the garden.
i bet wade was there, and linden.
easy tragedy on this extended landscape.
but somehow i end up un-sunburned.
destroyed yes, denied never.
work almost sounds refreshing right now.
with twice the regular timmy's dosage.
i can allow that.
no drinking, un-sleeping, over-falling, or crawling home ever again.
until friday, when we go to tofino.
and i aggressively and sensitively abuse cam for making me MC his wedding.
"it keeps him away from the bar." -CM
Friday, 2 July, 2010
party at glenayre
day-drinking started at about 4pm yesterday. during a bocce match in queens park up the street. marty kept saying "the ooooooole mart-dog!" while i rinsed myself with duty-free vodka in a silver to-go coffee mug. i think sophie won, and her prize was dropping us off at a local drinkery for nachos and continuity. after a few rounds, we headed back to my place with plans for an incredible hot tub adventure. but, the tub was packed with people, and we were far too 'nervous' to be socially naked in public at that point. so, we did what any logical pair of friends do on an otherwise normal saturday night, packed a suitcase full of liquor and took a cab to our elementary school.
martys parents were gone, so we invaded their castle on dundonald and claimed it our home base. then stole barry's liquor, because it was funner than using our own, and very reminiscent of the whole 'drinking our parents stolen booze at elementary schools,' that so filled our days as young bored youth in this gated community on license-less saturday nights.
it was 11pm now, and there was a rowdy amongst the midst. we did a huge lap, and talked about fancy front lawns while drinking jack and cokes from red plastic beer pong cups. talked about riding bikes, and street hockey, and mike erickson's dad. we smoked a joint on suicide hill. nothing changes. there was a raging pool party on garrow, that spread screams and splashes well past span's old house. it was only a matter of time before the cops showed up, and the party would then spill down the street towards the school. so, we figured it was a good time to check it out now, before the cops came there also. we crossed the base field and sat above the big gravel field on that small grassy hill. mixed new drinks. it was a good spot to watch the 40 or so teenagers who were playing on the new playground. the crowd swelled like a school of fish. every couple minutes a car would drive by and half the fish would take off running, only to slowly get sucked back into the wiry group at a walking pace. guys were performing, girls were laughing. nothing changes. the scent of blue 2-litre coolers was heavy in the air. nothing changes. eventually the real cops did show up, but we were just far enough away to go undetected, while still enjoying the firing squad on the battle field below. we had a great story anyway: "oh hello there sir, yes we are 2 almost-30-year-old men drinking in an elementary school park on a saturday night, but we aren't with those loud teenagers, we are merely trying to remember what it felt like to be them."
the cops and kids slowly dispersed, and it was just marty and i once again. romantic. the only thing that makes a saturday night in glenayre more romantic...a walk to pizza factory of course. more fun, going through the old cut-thru's across burquitlam. trying to figure out how many times we had made the same drunk/stoned march to the 3-dollar pepperonis at the other end of the rainbow. they've moved, but not far, now inhabiting the old 8-ball cafe location, next to a strange karaoke bar. the same old guy was working, same shirt, same smile. the only difference was that his famous 3 dollar small pepperoni, now cost 5 bucks. i can accept this, especially since he pretended to ignore the red plastic whiskey stinking cups stuck to our hands, still half full of gas.
the pizza tasted the same as i sort-of remember it. we burned our mouths for a while, then headed home, back through the cut-thu's into glenayre. the completion of a full circle. like finishing a good book, or a bad bottle. i looked forward to the couch in marty's parents basement. all glenayre basements smell the same. nothing changes.
great elation is still easily achievable. even if attained by wandering quiet mountain-side communities and spying on drunk teenagers in parks. ours was a success. memories remembered, warriors bested, feelings felt.
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