Went into She Said Boom today, and chuckled (a bit melancholily, to be honest) to see my own books gracing their bookshelves, product of my recent purge. Noticed a bookmark sticking out of Proust's Remembrance of Things Past. Couldn't remember if it was volume 1 or volume 2 i had sold, both are books I enjoyed reading BUT NEVER WILL AGAIN let's face it.
Anyhow. Knowing I have left many a bookmark loitering between the dustcovers, with small quips and comments on them, I reached for volume 1 where said bookmark was lurking to see. Well. It was volume 2 I guess I had unhanded, this volume 1 belonged to someone else, also with the same careless habit of abandoning bookmarks.
But, like me, said previous owner had obviously gotten tired of reading Proust with a dictionary constantly at the ready, and had taken to writing unknown words on his/her bookmarks, to look up later. I pondered a moment, tearily almost, at the length of time it took me to investigate all these gaps in my vocabulary. Bookmark after bookmark I went through those books with, covered in 20 letter words, thanks to Proust (and his translator no doubt) having Far too much time on his hands in a sickbed.
But at the time and onwards, i thought I was the only one neurotically determined enough to not have one unknown word slip by me. So yay, mysterious reader, yay to You. And yay to you for finally deciding that yes, Proust has had his time, and now he must to the second hand bookshop to grace yet another aspiring genius with his lengthy and most wordy nostalgia.
02 December 2006
29 November 2006
Sunday, 26 November, 1.08am, courtesy of Rebecca Silver Slayter.
This is not a joke.
Tomas (Rebecca's cat, for those you as yet unenlightened), with I swear absolutely zero input from Conrad or I, woke up today and decided from now on he was going to use the people toilet to pee. I shit you not. The first time it happened, we just heard the sound and went in to find Tomas exiting the bathroom, and the unmistakable odour of cat pee in the toilet. Tonight it happened again.
and anon....
You'll have to bring your camera and record this--it's true, there are a few examples on the internet, we've just discovered, because people do train their cats to use the toilet (a friend of mine did), what is fucked up in this instance, is that he just spontaneously decided to do it. I found a video online of a cat that flushes. That's the next step.
But it's just funny. Because he has no instincts for doing this. It's a result ofsheerly watching us and wanting to imitate us. What if tomorrow I wake up to hear the shower running. And then I notice Tomas's breath smells minty fresh. And then one day we happen to notice Tomas is wearing a shirt, and boxers; loafers. And soon he's in a suit, and got a day job. Eventually he tells us he got a lease on a nice condo by the Drake and he packs up and moves out. Our little kitty's all grown up. Toilet training is just the beginning.
Tomas (Rebecca's cat, for those you as yet unenlightened), with I swear absolutely zero input from Conrad or I, woke up today and decided from now on he was going to use the people toilet to pee. I shit you not. The first time it happened, we just heard the sound and went in to find Tomas exiting the bathroom, and the unmistakable odour of cat pee in the toilet. Tonight it happened again.
and anon....
You'll have to bring your camera and record this--it's true, there are a few examples on the internet, we've just discovered, because people do train their cats to use the toilet (a friend of mine did), what is fucked up in this instance, is that he just spontaneously decided to do it. I found a video online of a cat that flushes. That's the next step.
But it's just funny. Because he has no instincts for doing this. It's a result ofsheerly watching us and wanting to imitate us. What if tomorrow I wake up to hear the shower running. And then I notice Tomas's breath smells minty fresh. And then one day we happen to notice Tomas is wearing a shirt, and boxers; loafers. And soon he's in a suit, and got a day job. Eventually he tells us he got a lease on a nice condo by the Drake and he packs up and moves out. Our little kitty's all grown up. Toilet training is just the beginning.
the True Christmas Spirit. (so help us all)
Rebecca and i were meandering through the market the other day when we passed a dancing Santa doll with no legs outside a shop. It was dancing a weird pelvic thrust on its hips that was perhaps an attempt to imitate belly-jogging Santa-like jovial laughter.
There was a woman standing in front of said Santa, with her hands on his shoulders, with his head at a most appropriate height, and as he gyrated away she pushed down on his shoulders.
I don't know what was going on.
We kept walking, though. It was lunch-time.
There was a woman standing in front of said Santa, with her hands on his shoulders, with his head at a most appropriate height, and as he gyrated away she pushed down on his shoulders.
I don't know what was going on.
We kept walking, though. It was lunch-time.
baring benediction and blessings upon my confreres
And, upon my acceptance!
Most esteemed chaps,
On this dreary Sunday afternoon have I put aside my Conan Doyle for the moment (Over the years Mr Doyle has been kind enough to offer me bounteous private romps between his (dust)covers, where I am privy to hours of insightful stimulation by a fine chap called Holmes, and on special occasions his doctor friend as well.)
But anon!
It is with no small heave of my ample bosom that i thank you vociferously for allowing me admittance to your fine ranks. I only hope I can live up to the fine standards I have caught but a glimpse of during these past few days, whilst anxiously awaiting the decision of the UCCA's inner circle on the status of my application.
I thank Vivian Pickleford the Grenedier for second, thirding and fourthing the motion. (dabbing eye to hanky) It has been such a rarity for me to see such alacrity in acceding this my modest petition, and from a Grenedier no less!
And thank you to Penchance Polyflute the Loinhearted for his efficient communiques, calming my flummoxed nerves with updates as my application passed through the ranks.
And I'd like to thank the academy, and my long-dead cat Pushkin, and, Douglas Furrier for initiating the process and quelling my disquietude that perchance my application might prove bootless.
And with that I raise my skirts, ahem, my glass, in salute to you all, and may your collective panache permeate my email inbox for a long time to come.
Pox upon the Vulgoise!
yrs incessantly,
Missus Pippa Ellsworth Marigold - Urban Esquiré, Lady of the South
Most esteemed chaps,
On this dreary Sunday afternoon have I put aside my Conan Doyle for the moment (Over the years Mr Doyle has been kind enough to offer me bounteous private romps between his (dust)covers, where I am privy to hours of insightful stimulation by a fine chap called Holmes, and on special occasions his doctor friend as well.)
But anon!
It is with no small heave of my ample bosom that i thank you vociferously for allowing me admittance to your fine ranks. I only hope I can live up to the fine standards I have caught but a glimpse of during these past few days, whilst anxiously awaiting the decision of the UCCA's inner circle on the status of my application.
I thank Vivian Pickleford the Grenedier for second, thirding and fourthing the motion. (dabbing eye to hanky) It has been such a rarity for me to see such alacrity in acceding this my modest petition, and from a Grenedier no less!
And thank you to Penchance Polyflute the Loinhearted for his efficient communiques, calming my flummoxed nerves with updates as my application passed through the ranks.
And I'd like to thank the academy, and my long-dead cat Pushkin, and, Douglas Furrier for initiating the process and quelling my disquietude that perchance my application might prove bootless.
And with that I raise my skirts, ahem, my glass, in salute to you all, and may your collective panache permeate my email inbox for a long time to come.
Pox upon the Vulgoise!
yrs incessantly,
Missus Pippa Ellsworth Marigold - Urban Esquiré, Lady of the South
the application process: an update.
from: Douglas Furrier
date: 11 September, 2006
subject: your application to the U.C.C.S
Dear Ms. Marigold,
As you will be aware by now, your most satisfactory application for
admittance to the Upper Canada Chaps Society is under full review by
the board. I have no doubt your worthy self be soon be receiving the
benefits of membership to our most esteemed chaphood and we will all
be celebrating the arrival of our new sister over a lovely pims at the
Royal York.
Yours in Chapdom,
Sgt. Douglas Furrier, BFA
date: 11 September, 2006
subject: your application to the U.C.C.S
Dear Ms. Marigold,
As you will be aware by now, your most satisfactory application for
admittance to the Upper Canada Chaps Society is under full review by
the board. I have no doubt your worthy self be soon be receiving the
benefits of membership to our most esteemed chaphood and we will all
be celebrating the arrival of our new sister over a lovely pims at the
Royal York.
Yours in Chapdom,
Sgt. Douglas Furrier, BFA
application for the U.C.C.S
It is with great honor that i was asked by my good friend sir Douglas Furrier if i would like to apply to the Upper Canada Chaps Society, a gathering of civilized sorts bent on returning to long-past days of chivalry, gentility, and general good taste.
See below my letter of intent.
from: Pippa Ellsworth Marigold
date: September 11, 2006
subject: Please Forward to the Pertinent Personages
Dearest Dandies, Flaneurs, and most convivial chaps,
I have had the honor of being forwarded the latest correspondence from Mr. Wildflower to Sir Furrier, and am writing this with a slight apprehension that if I am not prompt in my reply, I will lay waste this second chance to be included in such fine e-pistles and worldy missives as you all seem to have been indulging in for some time.
For many a month now I have sat, sipping tea and staring out my basement window, at the flabby buttocks and unfortunate footwear that pass me by, wondering where and what civilization has gotten to. Could it be that the lifting of a dog's leg is all that is left to mark the cultural progress of my fair neighbourhood?
Well by the tiny balls of Christ, I fervently hope Not.
Perhaps, then, a hearkening unto new avenues of discriminating pursuits and dialogues will prove fruitful? I certainly hope so.
Now.
I have few recent tales of exotic lands, having landed, oh, now, four years ago, from mine own worldy travels; to this (ahem) "fair" city of Toronto, in the hopes of making something vaguely respectable out of myself.
I am however prone to frequent bouts of teary nostalgia, for dreary foreign lands with overcooked food, for incomprehensible guides through highly underrated nooks and crannies of the East, as well as other less-spoken of but equally curious nether regions of this fair planet.
I would be most happy to partake in any like-minded meanderings, as well as perhaps contribute a thought or two from my modest corner of existence, were you to be so kind as to accept me into your brethren.
Most kind regards, and a toast to you all, mit (unintentionally) soggy biscuit,
Pippa Ellsworth Marigold. (Esquiré)
ps. (having just received an outline for potential membership, mere MOMENTS before sending this off, I would like to add a small...adjunct, complimenting the present members of the UCCS on their genius and all-round chapliness. So there. Pip Pip. Jolly Good.)
See below my letter of intent.
from: Pippa Ellsworth Marigold
date: September 11, 2006
subject: Please Forward to the Pertinent Personages
Dearest Dandies, Flaneurs, and most convivial chaps,
I have had the honor of being forwarded the latest correspondence from Mr. Wildflower to Sir Furrier, and am writing this with a slight apprehension that if I am not prompt in my reply, I will lay waste this second chance to be included in such fine e-pistles and worldy missives as you all seem to have been indulging in for some time.
For many a month now I have sat, sipping tea and staring out my basement window, at the flabby buttocks and unfortunate footwear that pass me by, wondering where and what civilization has gotten to. Could it be that the lifting of a dog's leg is all that is left to mark the cultural progress of my fair neighbourhood?
Well by the tiny balls of Christ, I fervently hope Not.
Perhaps, then, a hearkening unto new avenues of discriminating pursuits and dialogues will prove fruitful? I certainly hope so.
Now.
I have few recent tales of exotic lands, having landed, oh, now, four years ago, from mine own worldy travels; to this (ahem) "fair" city of Toronto, in the hopes of making something vaguely respectable out of myself.
I am however prone to frequent bouts of teary nostalgia, for dreary foreign lands with overcooked food, for incomprehensible guides through highly underrated nooks and crannies of the East, as well as other less-spoken of but equally curious nether regions of this fair planet.
I would be most happy to partake in any like-minded meanderings, as well as perhaps contribute a thought or two from my modest corner of existence, were you to be so kind as to accept me into your brethren.
Most kind regards, and a toast to you all, mit (unintentionally) soggy biscuit,
Pippa Ellsworth Marigold. (Esquiré)
ps. (having just received an outline for potential membership, mere MOMENTS before sending this off, I would like to add a small...adjunct, complimenting the present members of the UCCS on their genius and all-round chapliness. So there. Pip Pip. Jolly Good.)
28 November 2006
oKAY.
since my camera cord is under a pile of rubble, i will wait no longer. you shall therefore be deluged with the products of my last week of insomnia, and in a week or so, I shall begin officially in blogworld, with a pictoral update of my change in geography and everything. SO. publishing onward!
and almost exactly a year to the day later...
it's TIME.
tomorrow...erm...today, i move house.
when I recover and find my computer amidst the rubble of post-move detritus, i will begin anew.
aren't you all excited.
tomorrow...erm...today, i move house.
when I recover and find my computer amidst the rubble of post-move detritus, i will begin anew.
aren't you all excited.
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