Women Are Not Psychic

This post is a result of me thinking about my last post, and realizing that I had painted women as somewhat alien, even if definitely powerful. I do think that women are better at understanding human relationships, but I'm not saying that as an excuse to get me off the hook for being an understanding boyfriend, friend, son or brother. I think lately I haven't been much of any of those. So this entry appears to be a confession, not of any dark, deep secret, but of my inability to connect with people lately. I guess it does have some benefits in that I can think deep, dark thoughts and be ever-so-slightly more creative in thinking up ideas for stories and scripts. I'd rather just be happy and get over it. So in honour of that I'm going to start making more of an effort to get out there with the people who are important to me. And I'm also going to start running and working out in the cheap gym near my apartment.

Snarky Comments

Due to a snarky comment on the previous post, I feel compelled to continue my blogging endeavours.

Today we shall discuss the tv shows called "Survivor: Vanuatu" and "The Apprentice". Vanuatu is last season's survivor, and I just finished watching my downloaded episodes. I like to wait till the season is finished before downloading because then I can watch them over the course of a couple of weeks, with episodes back-to-back. That way I avoid that terrible feeling of dreading what might happen next on the show. Both Survivor and The Apprentice are good at instilling dread, though for the Apprentice it only lasts during the tasks and the judging, and is extinguished after Trump has finished lambasting the three "disappointing" or "stupid" executives. Then everything is a-ok because I don't give a fuck about the future executives of America. Those people are mostly full of shit anyway. Except Bren, the trial lawyer from Georgia (or some southern state) - he always has a Southern drawl going on and looks like he'd rather be sipping bourbon and discussing plantations. I like that. (I mean, other than the whole slavery thing.)

Survivor episodes, I get caught up in the truly petty but hubristic personalities of these people. They are like the squabbling gods of Greek lore, with all the legendary powers of instant celebrity and being on a desert island competing for a million bucks to draw out their natural characters in full fauvist bloom. And when the women's and men's teams mingled, but the editors showed us viewers clips to make it clear that the women were still a team, damn! That was scary stuff for me, as a man.

It spoke to some atavistic fears in me that women know stuff that men don't. I mean, why else do the girls laugh at me instead of replying to my "Konnichi wa"? The boys just say Konnichi wa right back at me. I have occasionally considered the possibility that all women have psychic powers, and that men were simply born without; we are necessary for the procreation of the race, we can create cool things, but we just don't quite have the same level of understanding in a conversation. Especially about alliances. Needless to say, the women were much better at playing the game than the men, and they wittled the men's numbers down at every tribal council, by convincing the remaining men to vote one of their own gender off. Because "it's good strategy to vote him off now. We'll get her next round." What fools - the men fell for it until they were a tiny minority. Interesting that the two leaders of the female coalition were lesbians. Interesting, also, that these two - young Amy and old Scout - hated each other. Scout was a cool customer. Amy was pure, vilest, blackest manipulation. God I felt good when she got the boot.

If I were a Survivor contestant I think I'd make it at least to the final 9. Maybe even final 4. The key would be to not use big words, so as not to alienate people. Clever.

The Bike Ride of Anthony and Myles

myles in front of junky boulders


myles and anthony get crouchy


rice field and sunset


more rice field and sunset


a japanese cemetery

Holding for Loans

I'm currently on hold on an outsourced phone centre which handles calls for my student loans. They are playing 80's music from bands you've never heard of. My loan officer - nearly parole officer - huffed and put me on hold when I asked him to fax me the forms I had already filled out, instead of new forms.

When did it become a problem to do exactly what your job is? When companies started calling employees a resource and called in efficiency experts to do team-building exercises, that's when. The customer service centre is definitely the first sector to develop cracks in the facade of corporate unity and "we're all on the same page"-ness. What gets me are the catch phrases these poor, angry bastards have to spout at the beginning and end of calls. "Thanks for calling National Bank of Monopoly, customer service division, this is Todd Rundgren speaking, how may I help you today?". "Well i was wondering about...". The answer is usually "Can I have your name, social insurance number, address, telephone number, and code for verification purposes please", or it could be "please hold", at which point they go off and have coffee for a few minutes, chat about Jennifer Garner's ass, remember they have a "client" on the phone and run back. "Sorry to keep you waiting sir. I was on hold myself with another department. I'm going to have to speak to my supervisor about this." Hold.

Granted, that's the only way you can keep the spark of human intelligence in you if you work at these places. I know, I did. It was in another form - not quite so faceless, not quite so important - hell it was a chain camera store, but I got my taste. It tasted like the metal of robots and the cardboard of display signs.

Happy Birthday To Me

Happy Birthday To ME!

I watched these guys sumo the hell out of each other a couple of weeks ago in Osaka. And now they're spicing up my birthday page.