Bad Irish, No Potato

Daaaaaay off.
Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay off.
Lied to my boss so I could get the day off.

It was at some point last night, after my bike was stolen, the apartment was a mess, and there was nothing to eat because all the stores close before my shift ends. It was coming to a head when I was stuck in the back of the hall closet, I was feeling blindly around the bottom of a box filled with an assortment of crap, vainly searching for one inch screws, when I start to feel a little frustrated. Then at the point where I thought I could not stand another second cramped in our over heated fourth floor apartment when like a light from the heavens, a light from the bottom of the box came. I froze in amazement, and with a slight movement of my hand it was gone. Then another movement and it came back, I pushed everything aside reach deep down to the bottom where I found it, Jesse’s old head lamp, that she had given to me so long ago. I saw that light, I found those screws, and I went back to putting the bed together, until the people downstairs complained. Breath in, breath out, relax.

Yoga is over until I start making regular money again, which should be right away as I am working two jobs. I was going to have this Friday off, but I decided that today would be a good time to take a cut into the week. Two days off in two weeks while moving houses seems unfair on those around me, and myself, so today is the day for bank/internt/phone/phatty and bla.

I got a pretty sweet job working at the Fort Gary Hotel, it is the only kosher kitchen in all of Manitoba, so if you are Jewish and in Manitoba, you come to the Fort Gary. We have five star Kosher dinners over seen by our own Rabbi. He is a pretty cool guy, during our training they told us, when in doubt as the Rabbi, and last Saturday I was working this huge wedding when one of the guests asked if there were nuts in the second layer of the cake. I took off running to the kitchen, to the bake kitchen, to the cooks room, to the store room, to the wine room, to the managers office, to the main floor lobby and still not a sign of any one who may have known what that cake is made out of, when I see the Rabbi, I run to him, “Rabbi, Rabbi, who will know what the second layer of the cake made of!” He looks down only for a moment before listing off, ”aaah, strawberries, chocolate, flour, carmel…” when I stop him by asking, “does it have nuts?”

Assume it has nuts.

Helpful fellow. Any of the other 50 people I asked could have told me that, but instead they shrug. I like it, because it allows me to speak with an uptight English accent, and call people Sir or Madam, pour wine, and clear empty cups. And eat the left over unserved food food. A function of doctors ordered forty bottles of wine, and drank three. Half of them ended up in the sink as they were pre poured, and we cannot drink on the job, but the twenty plates of little dainties were open season. The Jews have excellent taste in food. No pork anywhere!

I will not tell you about my other job in the unlikely event that I am suppose to be there right now.

I am not guided by a light,
or voices inside,
the forces that pull
in the time to time,
only offer direction
a rhythm or rhyme
so you have to pay attention
and learn on your time

the feelings that come, and the ways went below
from the ash on cedars and the telephone polls,
it is not the winter that makes me feel cold,
or stale desperation of the feelings untold,
it is the scares in my heart, my mind and my soul,
From the one night stands and the long walks home.

Needless, we say.

Uehen