2005-07-06 - 1:31 p.m.
What I'm listening to: Paradise City-Guns'n'Roses.
I just finished my second pipe of the morning, but I am however still on my first cup of coffee.
Barely slept last night. Ended up renting 'Up in Smoke', as I'd never seen it before, and was strongly advised to see it by a friend who is also a gross-out comedy afficionado.
I got all the provisions-tortilla chips, salsa con queso, regular salsa, and Coke C2 which is surprisingly good, even though I don't really drink soft drinks, apart from the occasional Canada Dry with an evening meal, or perhaps the customary Cott's Black Cherry with a Schwartz's extra fat sandwich.
Coke C2 was introduced to me last weekend, when I was hanging out with the hippies. They presented as 'the Coke that tastes like the Coke we used to drink at the soda fountain when we were kids back in the 1950s'.
I took my first sip last night. I wouldn't exactly call it Love Potion #9, but I did get a kick out of the romantic nostalgia that these hippies had for the soda fountain, before they became activists cum academics.
It was good, though. I do admit that while drinking C2, I remembered the feel of the glass bottle on my lips, and the sparing serving of carbonated Coke hitting my tongue, and what it felt like to walk down to the corner store (Mac's Milk at the time...do those still exist in Ontario?) to pick up a Coke and a small bag of Humpty Dumpty ketchup chips with my brother, back when I was about 6, and I wanted to be just like him. He was around 17. We had the same blue adididas sneakers, with white stripes-I made sure of that. We had the same Levis jean jacket-I couldn't have a GWG jacket, because he had a Levis jacket, and naturally as my big brother he could do no wrong.
So after a puff or two or three or five of the peace pipe, I put in the DVD. Throughout the film, I kept on wondering what the hell is going on. It was still hilarious though. I did like the scene in Mexico where Cheech Marin has to go to the bathroom. I liked the build up, but I was hoping for more when he was actually sitting on the can, something like the shit-break scene in American Pie.
I did see the momma jokes coming a mile away, but for some reason I never grow tired of those.
I'll be seeing 'Stripes' before the weekend, because I have tentative plans to see a new 35mm print of 'Meatballs' at the Parc Cinema this weekend. I've never seen it, and I do feel deprived because I haven't seen a lot of those late 70s early 80s comedies, including, much to my chagrin, 'Fast Times at Ridgemont High'.
And I call myself a film student.
Back to the lack of sleep. It was actually cool enough last night that I could sleep under my duvet again, and roll up like a nice warm cozy fatty blunt.
I think that the lack of sleep was mostly stress. Even though I like 'performing' in front of a crowd, whether it be at school or behind the turntables, I think that I am slightly nervous. I've never spun in a club before, and I've never used this gear before. I am hopeful though, now that I am up and around, that the experience will be stellar.
Dreams last were pretty fucked up, as is usually the case after a good long blaze. I actually had a dream about my own mortality, which hasn't happenend in many years. The last time would be in the summer of 2002 when I was camping south of Winnipeg.
Last night I'm in bed, the lights are off, I see a being in blue, with no face, floating towards the bed from the doorway. It was an angel.
"I've come here to take you."
I sat up in bed, gasped, and proclaimed: "I'm not ready yet!"
The angel left as it came in, and I wake up. I look over at the door...nothing.
I do remember being surprised however, and impressed, that the angel spoke really polished English.
This reminded me of how culturally specific images and encounters with death and the afterlife really are. Culturally, we are supposed to see ghosts, and be in touch with our own sense of mortality, as an uncontrolable event subject to divine will, that will happen to all of us. It is a part of life, and we are not supposed to be scared of it, but we are raised to treat it as a part of life that is inevitable, and we have no control over it.
In Pakistan nobody really 'hides' children from this idea. When an elder passes away, the body is usually washed in the house, in full view of the select few who actually do the washing. But, all of the family and neighbourhood is well aware of what is going on. It's what the children grow up seeing, so for them it is, normal, or rather, commonplace.
I managed to get back to bed around when the birds started chirping, and I would say that all in all I had a good morning's sleep.
A long, handwritten letter has arrived from a very dear old friend. I think it's time I changed, went down to the local stationary store so I can reply in kindness with my fountain pen.
