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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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For a while I lived with Homunculus. A little man, older, retired and perpetually broke, he needed the money, I needed a cheap place to live.
As a condition of my living there I was treated to his opinions on everything, most, all of which weren't worth hearing and perfectly exemplifying the old adage "The unexamined life is not worth living", but he was long dead anyways, a fearful little man, waiting to corner me when I woke up to share with me some new-aged flash of insight, share worries that the government was concealing the truth, share his life's work, to warn the world's people against vaccinations, against contrails and taxes and the fluoride in the water...always something new...
He spends his days, 4:00 AM until 5:00 PM, on his computer "researching", as he calls it, miraculous resurrections, alternative medicine, government conspiracies and cover-ups, this, balanced with entire days, weeks, of defragging and fixing his computer, restoring his internet connection. He's too busy to get things done, leaving his room only to go for cigarettes. He fancies himself one of the Illuminati, his mission in life, if only he can get his computer working, to disseminate all the disinformation he's acquired, debunk the myths of evolution and science, if he saves just a single life it will all be worth it he tells me, ending with:"Think of the children..."
Once a week or so he heads on down to the food-bank, he's eligible, collects his box of groceries, takes them home, throws 90% of it away, "Not organic" he tells me, he refuses to eat anything that's not organic, he won't be poisoned by GM foods, then after lecturing me and filling the trash with the new groceries he heads off to co-op to buy himself some sausage rolls...
His kids, they avoid him, only call when they need money, a favor, he resents any intrusions upon "his work", his time sitting dazed in front of a computer screen, overwhelmed by the amount of drivel on the internet, his brain working to fit it all in, conspiracies, more conspiracies, everyone is out to get him, I should be worried too...
There is a certain Genius to his Idiocy, a life completely lived in denial, his house, a mausoleum, his perpetual avoidance of any sort of real thought or action, amusing, but sad, and I was due back in the real world...
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Bankview from my balcony. Every morning, 5:00, 6:00, 7:00 AM, the tribes of the Calgary homeless search the dumpster across the way for bottles. It's as if they have a schedule, know when the drunkards will be waking up and dumping the empties over the balcony, searching the dumpster, shopping carts, makeshift trailers on bicycles, garbage bags slung over shoulders, there's a rhythm.
And the dog walkers, mostly small, indoor, apartment-style dogs, teacups, a good looking couple chatting, her, small, fit, cute, him, larger, fit, handsome, their dogs exactly the same size, one a terrier, the other a pug, chatting, holding his dog, her dog back, they're trying to mount, obviously hitting it off, the couple, the owners, they're hitting it off as well but daren't be so forward...
And evening, the drunks on the way home from the bars on 17th, cabs, cars dropping off late night partiers, a couple of attractive girls making out in a vintage convertible, young, lipstick-lesbians, 1:00 AM, try not to look or stare, but one catches you looking anyways, stares back through the passenger window while her partner fumbles and gropes her...
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Spotted this in Nelson:
"Professional Water Witcher". What should of been of interest to me was the "Placer Gold Deposit Pinpointing". Imagine my interest when I found out the owner of the business also works as an Elvis Impersonator.
Nelson. The happiest place on earth.
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I've met up with the boys from the old job, "Everyone is coming...Party!" they said, and as I am too frequent with my unavailability I made the trip down to meet them.
The worst pub in Kensington, they find the lowest of dives and make it their regular haunt, less chance of being thrown out, behaviors that have them barred from a number of other restaurants and bars are somehow a little more discreetly ignored here.
Beers, greetings, catch-up with the old crew, introductions to the new faces, assurances that "IF I want my job back...he speaks highly of you", but I've been there, done that, and if ever there was a bridge to be burned this is it..."D---- is back", and they're now talking of the bosses daughter, in contact whenever she needs money or a new car, apparently she's getting divorced, living back with her father, 40 years old, the Nephew is complaining as she's taken on the 'ownership' role and has started leaving him chore-lists around the restaurant...I've mentioned his children before, everyone of them a complete fuck-up, one in an institution, the other in jail, this one seems to have found the fine balance between both...
Late, the bar approaches closing, we've met up with a gang of Russians, East Indians, Dutch, Mafias of every nationality, other recent immigrants or travellers, the Bosses Nephew, he knows everyone, if you drink at all you must have once had a drink once with him...they're on their cellphones, everybody's got a buddy and they're all making the call, money changing hands, then there's the house party...
An unfamiliar address, downtown, high-rise, penthouse...maybe 2000 square feet, and I'm trying to figure out who's place it is...what must the rent be? But they're not rentals, and the condo fees alone would be more than I could pay in rent...
"Mikey".
-"Who's Mikey" I ask the Nephew, and he tells me ... John's ------- son, and I know John from the restaurant, best friends with the owner, regular client, 5 years I've known him, met his daughter, his nephew, the heir-apparent to the business, I never knew he had a son ... this is why ... thirty-odd years old, no visible means of support, living in a million dollar penthouse downtown, oddly unfurnished apart from a curved screen HDTV, hardwood floors looking out over the city and Mikey's having a fit, he doesn't know me, thinks I'm an undercover cop, G--- and the Nephew are vouching for me but it's time for me to leave now anyways, these parties, they're out of my league ...
I think of the phrase "To those to whom much is given, much is expected", I can find no examples from the restaurant that justify this, a more apt phrase would be "Much will be given without expectation", the bosses' children, Cinderella, Matt, others, in Calgary the examples are too numerous to list, children squandering the wealth of their parents, Calgary's ruling class, the underachieving insolent children of privilege.
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Finally, then, the newest and latest version of the blog, exactly the same as the old blog but with substantial revisions to style.
Not that the new style is any sort of improvement, but I'm still working on it.
All of the information. articles, etc, from the other blog is here, only now it's a little more carefully hidden. Why not? If you know what you're looking for, you'll find it. Otherwise this is probably a good position from which to start adding new content (and in the meantime finding ways to reorganize the old...).
Cheers.