PipesDreams

Perhaps it’s the time change, loss of an hour and all that, but I feel out of sorts this week. Not my usual chipper self. Angry at the computer for failing to entertain me. Bitter about work. Yearning for the freedom to go outside. Desperate to not be trapped inside, feeling futile.

Having spoken to ‘s boyfriend V. on the weekend about industrial design, and knowing that is studying the same thing, I’ve spent a bit of time investigating how I would choose to design my life, aesthetically, under altered circumstances. If I didn’t have two mortgages. If I was living on my own. If I had time and space and funds to devote to surrounding myself with cool things.

This week I think I’ll skip my usual posts in favour of a multi-part series on My Alternate Universe.
Brace yourself, this is going to be image-heavy.

Alternate Life, Part 1: Where I would be right now
Hanging out with in London at the Tate Modern museum, queuing up again and again to ride down Carsten Höller’s adult-sized slide sculptural installations in Turbine Hall, seen below.

“The experience of sliding is best summed up in a phrase by the French writer Roger Caillois as a ‘voluptuous panic upon an otherwise lucid mind’. The slides are impressive sculptures in their own right, and you don’t have to hurtle down them to appreciate this artwork. What interests Höller, however, is both the visual spectacle of watching people sliding and the ‘inner spectacle’ experienced by the sliders themselves, the state of simultaneous delight and anxiety that you enter as you descend.”

On the plus side, having spoken to on the phone late last night, I will at least have some company in my blue mood as of next month, when he will be coming up to visit me from New York. For now, I’ll try to focus on Hong Kong with . Soon, soon.

Nintendo childhood, always haunting me
Makes me desirous of the new platform,
I’ve called to ev’ry Best Buy: “Have you Wii?”
‘Tis nowhere found in stock, “sold out” the norm;
Now more than ever seems it rich to buy,
To play well after midnight with no pain,
My Visa’s sky-high limit is no use
In such an ecstasy!
Still bowling tempts, and I aspire in vain—
To thy sweet nunchucks’ elbow joint abuse.

(John Keats’ ghost must really hate me right now. At least I adhered strictly to rhymed stanzas.)

I’ve heard some excellent phrases this weekend. Last night, for example, when sampling the intoxicating delights of Nintendo’s Wii game system and also the intoxicating delights of Rickard’s Red, I handed my empty beer bottle to with a sad face. Upon seeing my woeful emptiness, our attentive host immediately said, “Oh no! Moira’s beer is broken. Look, it’s not working anymore. Let’s get her a new one to play with.” Delightful people.

I engaged in virtual bowling, which is practically the only way for me to enjoy the sport without making a complete ass of myself [, , I just want you to know that I have NOT FORGIVEN YOU for the whole dress-up-birthday-bowling-Star-Trek-uniform-incident and I MAY NEVER DO SO**]. And I also got to see a fascinating collection of carnivorous plants. A very cool night.

This morning, I had a welcome message from my dear friend Butler sitting in my mailbox. For anyone who likes music living in the GTA, this applies to you as well.

Hello, Music-loving Spamee;

Too many of you spend weekday evenings tragically under-rocked-out. Fortunately, help is available.

As some of you may know I play bass in a couple of overlapping bands, Whale Tooth (hooky indie rock) and the Favourite Scarves (folky country pop). Our first show happens this Wednesday, March 14th at the Embassy (in Kensington market at 223 Augusta). Music should start around nineish. All are welcome. Productive-member-of-society types will not be mocked for leaving early.

Whale Tooth is also playing the El Mocambo on Thursday the 22nd (with some other bands; $5 + canned good). Both bands play on Saturday the 24th at some bar in Scarborough. Apparently that’s how far you have to travel to get a weekend gig in this town.

If I were , I would probably decide to go to the El Mocambo, slap Butler on the ass, then stay awake all night before catching my 7am flight to Vancouver the next morning. Since I’m not Dave, I will choose sleep over being awesome. Anyone who wants to add a little bit of rockabilly white boy music to your evening repertoire, feel free to join me in Kensington on the evening of the 14th.

(I have not commented on ‘300’ for a reason: I’m still sorting out whether I liked it or not)

**I could be persuaded to learn how to love you again with chocolate and/or booze