Tidbits and... um? Stuff.
I finally have internet at my place, but would seem to have picked up the "conficker" virus that prevents me from updating my virus checker. (and no, I do not use Norton) It will be nice when I can access the online world with regularity again, but that will have to wait momentarily. So Geo and J have been kind enough to allow me access to their computer and home while they are away. Which brings me to the first point:
Geo and J have been exceptionally good friends and deserve a big "huzzah" among other things for their openness and generosity towards me. This move to Saskatoon and period of adjustment would have been much more difficult had it not been for the two of them. Exceptional people who deserve exceptional things. Consider that fact that Geo and I have only been in occasional in contact since 1991 and only had the chance to see each other for the first time since then at Pete Chattaway's wedding in 2006. (also my first time meeting J) Not a lot of friendships survive that time and distance. But then I am still friends with Pete and Trent, so maybe it is the "Hoy House" bonds that are tough to sever. (Hoy House requires explanation, don't bother... for now)
Did'ja eva get the feelin' that...
...'chu was writtin' like someone else? I have attempted to be a writer from time to time, but without much success. Mostly because I have hard time seeing things through to completion. I did have a novel outline written, complete with first and last chapters - but apparently Ray Bradbury wrote it first. ("Go get the Banshee Ray!") Then a film starring Aston Kutcher was made along the same lines. (The Butterfly Effect) I tore up the outline and chapters. (I still have the idea in my head though)
Then there were a couple of short stories. The people who read those stories (I think Thoth was one of them) said that I needed to read Tom Robbins. (Another Roadside Attraction, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues) With that in mind, I have never read Tom Robbins. I bought Skinny Legs and All for my Mother, knowing her sense of humour and tastes. I figured that she would like what other people had told me about Robbin's literature. She does, she loves it. I have never let my parents read anything I have written since the early `90's - mostly because I am neurotic that they will show it to other people (particularly people I don't like) without my consent as they have both done in the past. With that in mind, consider that my Mum has now stated that reading Tom Robbins is like reading something that I would have written. If I had hair I'd be pulling it out. Maybe I can turn this into a weight loss thing? Maybe Tom Robbins has stolen my identity? Maybe I was slated to be a well known and respected writer? Maybe Mr. Robbins was the frustrated, neurotic one with a sharp sense of failure at the things he might have been - but he had a time machine, so he stole my style and made it his own and gave to his younger self to re-write the future with. Maybe I don't have a second-hand imagination after all? But this all sounds far-fetched and crazy, doesn't it? Doesn't it? Hey, Ray Bradbury could plausibly have had a time machine...