Ah Pook, is here.

I am now wholly sure what to say,

It might be a little early in to be writing, but there is little else to do at four am.

Truth: I had foreseen clouds around this situation from the start, butIi dismissed them as standard aches and pains, betting that the odds would all play out in the end.

So word got around that I needed a place to live, I was sitting in the staff room eating when our antagonist came and sat at my table. I was the only one in the room, so it was not to surprising, but what was more of a shock was that he came with gifts. A place to stay, enough to eat, some place safe and dry, and it is only just down the street. The price was right, I came on down, I looked it over and we sat down. I said to live here would be simply grand, so I rallied my resources and came up with a plan.

I could not move in for a month and a bit as his room mate would only be leaving at this time. So I came to live with my only remaining friend I have here in Winnipeg for the next month. Then yesterday was the twenty seventh, and I find out that I am no longer able to move in. His room mate is not leaving, and I have no place to live. I called the land lord of the place on the twenty fourth, and she informed me that his roommate had resigned the lease. I called our antagonist and he was wishie washy, he said that he did not know what was going on, and that he would call me when he discovered what there was to be. I called him two days later, trying again to discover my fate, only to be once again meet with a "I do not know what is going on," kind of answer.

Then I get to work, and three different people inform me, in three different ways, that this situation, is only news to me. That the roommate had long known that this situation was coming to a head, and that I was the only one left in the dark. So I called him on it, infront of as many people as possible, in my usual calm lets get things out in the open kind of way. He did not apologize, instead he got angry and threaten that I should, "shut my mouth or I he would shut if for me." He claimed that he only knew of this situation recently, and that he told me as soon as he knew, which could not be the case as he never gave me a straight answer on anything. His landlord was the one that ended up telling me. I must admit I was a little perplexed by his lack of empathy on the situation, things being as they were it was I who should have been the one getting angry and yelling. Instead I just called him a liar, I told him that I thought he knew the situation, and was merely keeping me on the side lines as a back up plan encase things fell through with his current room mate.

So the moral of the story is, I do not really have a place to live, and you cannot count on your fellow Irishman.

the destroyer

I slept through Sunday

It was almost eight in the morning before I was finally too tired to play any more Starcraft. Ich, the monitor is really bright. I had been planning on having a lazy lay around and do nothing kind of day, and I suppose I was successful in that endeavor, save the fact I was unconscious for the whole of it. I woke up about a half hour ago and it is now two forty in the next morning, Monday.

I think I will quit my gas job. They have more than full time hours for every one at the hotel now, and they lay every one off in January, so the timing would be perfect for a nice Ei holiday. It is what I should have done after tree planting. Oh well.

After thirty two hours awake an eighteen hour nap leaves me feeling kind of messed up. There that is better. Okay, the problem facing me at this moment is that I am wide awake at three in the morning. I will likely make tea soon as well... but, as fun as it is to beat starfox command over and over again to unlock all nine endings is getting a little tiresome. The first time it was damn difficult, you have to use the touch screen to "pilot" your ship, everything from speed, movement, bombs, and special moves are all done on the touch screen. To fire, you can press any other buttons (except the start button which pauses it) this allows you to hold the damn thing how ever you want in either hand so you can always reach the attack commands. Which is nice, but I have beat it six times and the endings have been slightly amusing, but it has gotten a little to easy. See Here.

Starcraft is on the computer in the sun room off of Amy's bedroom. I also have some music on it, which included the new Bob Dylan. I have only gotten to listen to him once... and I was playing starcaft at the time.

Enough of this I have a class to teach.

Sean

The Head of Project X

Well let me first start where I am, firmly rooted in the good ol vibe of self indulgence.

Secondly, let me tell you where I have been. At work. I have been awake now for twenty eight and a half hours, so I decided I would come and write about it. I woke up last night around midnight, and stayed up until now, four thirty in the morning the next day. I just got off a ten hour shift, but I drank a fair amount of caffeine so I should be good to go for a little while longer. I do not work until Monday night, so I have a whole day tomorrow to lay around and listen to my records.

I got some clinic, beatles, cat stevens, specials, and elliot smith. did I get bowie? nah I think I put him back...

So tonight's feast was by far the most extravagant I have yet served. I thought I had seen some fancy shit before tonight, but tonight made me realize I had not seen shit. So first imagine you are in a huge ball room, six massive chandeliers hand from the roof, painted gold, yellow, white, light brown, the walls have carvings around the top off them. Of animals. And huge hanging blinds over the two story tall windows which look down upon Winnipeg. Now the room has a full service bar, twenty two tables with ten people at each, all covered in in crisp linen, shiny heavy forks and knives, 24 oz wine glasses, a rose and apple center piece (which I will come back to later) and a menu which I will now tell you about. It was not extraordinary, that they went for a full four course meal, soup, salad, chicken or beef or vegan, then baked Alaska for desert. The meal is usually where most weddings go all in.

Sometimes people have to much money.

Sometimes on the table they chose to place a menu list, that tells what will be served in what order. Most of the time it is a simple sheet of paper, fancy font, maybe folded in half to stand up.

some times they do not have them at all.

tonight's menu set to sit on each and every one of the twenty two tables is something, well, let me try to describe it (I took one home with me.) There is a piece of golden foil cardboard which has been folded in half, on the front of it a brown piece of paper has been glued, then to that a silver piece of paper is glued then it gets a little complicated. What looks like a tea leaf with intricate and very realistic veins is glued just above the center, but it is made of golden foil. A clear piece of plastic is laying over the whole front surface, and it is on this clear plastic that the menu is written in golden fancy font. The piece of clear plastic is riveted onto the golden cardboard by four bronze looking but plastic rivets that match the colour of the brown paper between the gold and silver sheets.

on the back of this foiled cardboard, a simpler story is told. It simply has the brown paper glued to the golden paper with silver paper glued to that. the silver paper has golden writing of the itinerary. Pass go collect two hundred dollars.

The center pieces at weddings had always impressed me. Some three foot tall bong looking thing with flowers coming out the top of it and vines wrapping their way down, some floating candles on a fish bowl with roses under the water inside, giving it a large magnifying affect. I will no longer be so easily impressed. The center piece tonight had to be brought home using both arms in a struggle to steal it. I could not believe how heavy it all was, but we were sorta told we could take them, and even after will pillaged the best of them there was still a dozen left. So I am now proud to give Amy my kind and gracious host the craziest center piece I ever did see.

It is about a foot and a half by a foot in a half and a foot tall at the center, sloping only slightly towards the edge, to give it a full rounded shape. Full white roses form a stunning cross, with real green apples interplaced among greenie white flowers to form the back ground. And it smells good.

It does not perhaps sound that impressive to you. Well fuck you. It is fricken sweet. Sweet enough to make me hate them for paying almost a hundred dollars for each of them. For each table, three for the head table five for around the bar, and almost twenty five smaller versions were scattered all over the room.

they had a laser light show.

wedding.

You would have had a better chance of surviving a tour during the Vietnam war, as you would of having you marriage survive.

Bang Bang, got another one of em charlies.

horses.

they had chocolate's that looked like tea leaves and were filled with soft wonderful magic.

I do not know what it is, but the pineapple we have at the hotel melt in your god damn mouth. It is coveted by near every staff member, and now one of the most tightly guarded food stuffs we deal with. Depending on whose in charge... It is on every fruit platter we serve, sometimes with as many as sixteen of the damn things. It comes with every chocolate fondue mountain. So it is there almost every damn night. I have been caught a fair few times testing my speed limit on disappearing a belly's worth of magical heaven. But they should know better than to leave it in the back room where the costumers cannot see you eating their lovely appetizer. We are rather spoilt, but we get more positive feed back than any other part of the hotel, and we make more than any other part.

I just wish that every wedding DJ did not play the same songs every single weekend. Week after week. Does one not understand how ironic it is to play Simon and Garfunkes Cecilia at a wedding?

Nothing more to report

Sean

Depending on Time Zone

Twenty two days with the internet and I have posted once.

Have I lost the will to speak, or the time. Both. Its both.

People are funny. A fellow comes in and buys two one litre bottles of coke. It was the special, so he was going to get them both for only three dollars. On his way to the counter, he was intent on paying for them, when he dropped one and it hit the floor. He picked it up and sat the other on the counter to examine the fallen container. I advised him, "You may want to let that sit for a moment," to which I thought he murmured some sort of agreement, but he proceeded to open it right then and there. Now I do not likely need to explain what happens to a carbonated beverage that has been well shaken just before opening, but he got coke all over himself. The other bottle sat on the counter, undropped and unopen. I looked at him as you might expect one would look upon an helpless retard pawing at the television.

I am a hermit!

Monday I wake up around six or so, putter around drinking tea talking with Amy and her kids until it is time to go to work around eight forty five, I get to work at ten fifteen, fifteen minutes late every day, but the way the bus run it is that or I am an hour early. I stay at work until eight in the morning, and the bus gets me home just after nine. I sip tea and chat with Amy until ten ish, when I go to bed. I will wake up any time between six and eight and I will repeat this until Thursday. Thursday until Sunday is a little bit of a toss up, as I will likely work three of the days at the hotel, and have a day off. This week I have Friday off, which is nice because it allows me to take advantage of the music stores, and the tea store all in the same day. I plan on getting a tea pot tomorrow. Then it is Monday again and I do it all over again.

Brickish.

(It is morning the next day now)

I live in a constant fear of going blind. If I so much as touch my eye, or even around it, I will likely spend the next day and a half in a constant state of fear. Why does my eye hurt, is that dryness normal, should it feel like this when I blink? And so on.

Yeah I am really reaching here.

the baby sister offered to make chicken noodle soup, which I accepted. An hour and a half later I decided I would just leave get something to eat after I got my new tea pot. After changing shirts (its a little chilly) I came upstairs to find it on its way to being made. So now I am here talking to myself infront of a computer when I should be waiting for a bus uptown.

Every now and then I get these chest pains. It started sometime after I was in grade four. When I was living in New Brunswick I got sick and had to go to into the hospital, they had no idea what was going on with me, so I spent almost a month in isolation with out being able to walk. Then sometime after that I moved back to Saskabush and the pains started. It comes and goes, lasting for a month or so at a time, and then going away for four to six months. I had all kinds of testing done, from ulcer to cancer to bla bla bla. In the end, they still had no idea what was wrong with me. So I lived with it. Then when I was just out of highschool I went to the doctor over a worse than normal bout of the pains and he told me not to worry about it. Seems that it happens to men in their twenties, that when in a stressful situation they start to develop unexplainable chest pains. Seems strange that I started to develop a condition for twenty year olds when I was twelve, but such is life it seems... or you know, he was mistaken. Weirder still is milk seems to relieve the symptoms. The pains have been back now for almost two weeks, so I am hoping they will soon dissipate, and they are showing signs of lightening up, it just sucks to feel like your chest is in a vice.

Where the hell does Campbells get off putting so much fucking salt in their soup? I wanted chicken noodle, not dead sea scroll. Well I best go get that tea pot.

nothing else for now.

deal!

Sean

The Manor

The last week has been a blur for the most part.

I have a new job, (again) working at another gas station... Did I tell you this already? I work grave yard, which means time folds in on itself and everything looses meaning. The last three days especially, with moving, working, and more working, things have been a bit of a frazzle. threehours sleep after being awake for for a full day is enough to keep your eyes open, but not enough to maintain funtunal brain process. I fell asleep on the bus on my way home, and missed my stop... Though I think I should be okay now, I got fifteen hours sleep last night so I am well enough rested for the next grave robbing.

I am living at Amy's now, in her beautiful house. Her kindness is truly boundless, and I am forever indebted to her for allowing me to stay here for this month. Though it is a little creepy. It is huge, hard wood floors, HDtv, xbox360, big windows, internet, and I am the only one here. They left for the cottage for the weeks end. So I wonder around the ultra quiet house trying not to touch the walls. The eyes on the painting.... they.... never mind.

Up at four, ready for bed by eight, only fourteen hours before I get to sleep again has me feeling less than optimistic about tonight's shift. I think I have made it through all the reading material... brb gotta go to work.

okay back. It is twelve hours later, or 8:36 in the morning. I should be tired, I was tired all of my shift. Until I had a red bull... I normally avid such things, but lately I have been trying my hand at riding the bomb. Mind you, my idea of gluttony is having sushi and subway in the same day. Though of late I have been getting by on a meal (north American standard issue) and helping of cereal (corn flakes) for the days food, a semi kind of fasting where I let myself be hungry for hours of the day in the hopes my ribs will start to show a little more. and I started smoking cigars, one or two a day for the better part of the last two weeks. I can hear the cat puking. I stopped doing yoga, and my body hates me.

my boss at the new gas station is a good guy. The more I talk with him the more I respect him, not for the gas station part of him, but for the directly friendly business man he is. Working a gas station is made less painful for this, and the fact we get almost no costumers over the grave yard shift, which allows me to read all four news papers, and what ever else there is. I also hook my mp3 player up to the speakers. This location is also on the edge of suburbia, which means I sell one onehundreth as many loto tickets as I did when I was in the middle of the welfare district. Fewer cigarettes too.

Every one keeps telling me they love my hair, I wish I knew how to do this back in highschool. I'd have had all the ladies...

I am going to go get some corn flakes.

Now bed.

Uehen should sleep.