Good news: The nightmares have stopped.
Bad news: I’m now waking up and seeing ghosts, who are getting closer every passing day.
I swear, my karma either wants me to go more gray, or to lose my hair completely.
So can we all agree to not wake up Green Day? Please?
There’s a colony of spiders who live in my car. I know this because, every morning when I drive off to work, there are new webs filigreeing across the windshield. I initially thought these were actually cracks, but fortunately they’re the real thing.
I say fortunately because it is my plan, nay my hope, that in time, if I leave them be, they will come to see me as their arachnid overlord, and thus give their subservience over to me. I can see it now, a vast army of them, mindlessly and willingly doing my bidding, marching over the lands and dispatching of all my enemies. Granted, I don’t have any enemies at the moment, but give me time. Oh, I will rule the world, only to be placated by nubile young women. And cinammon rolls. Can’t forget the cinammon rolls.
Preparing for a trip down in Bar Harbor last week (you may have read about it), I was looking forward to getting on a climb called “A Dare by the Sea,” a difficult but short 5.10C. I finally got my chance on Friday, when the milliner gave herself up to be my belay slave. So off we go, stopping off at a beach first to enjoy the sun and throw (awfully in my case) a frisbee around. Set up the ropes, and off I rappel down to the base, about 10 feet away from the ocean at high tide. Being somewhat smart, I also brought down my ascenders with me, in case I couldn’t get up the climb.
Yell up to the belayer, above the sound of waves, that I’m about to begin climbing, and get going. And, oh gawd, how absolutely amazing was the climb. Hard, difficult to reach holds, high-stepping, just perfectly flowing. Until, that is, I reached the crux, a thin left-facing crack where I couldn’t even stick in my fingertips for purchase. I just flailed and flailed, until I gave up and resorted to ascending the rope past the difficult part.
The whole point about this? This climb was first ascended over 20 years ago, by a guy called Jim Adair who would die in a rockfall a couple weeks later. And to me, that’s the greatest appeal to climbing. Not dying in a rockfall, mind you, but to find myself climbing stuff that was previously done 20 to 80 years ago, by balls-to-the-wall women and men who didn’t know what the next several metres would yield, scoping out a line that is completely aesthetic. They’ve mostly all passed on now, but I am constantly amazed at what they did.
Oh, and the week itself was pretty fun as well.
Um, did anyone record Lost and The Apprentice last week? Okay, I don’t really need to see Lost, knowing that it will play at least five more times this season, but I’m dying to see who brings the crazy this year in The Apprentice.
Called to reserve tickets for this Friday night’s Sigúr Ros concert, only to find out that the show is sold out. Completely. Le sigh.
I’ve always wondered how folks in this city find out about these obscure bands. Because it’s not like Montreal radio is airing their music. Seriously, if anyone can clue me in to where I could hear something similar, I’m all ears.
Picked up a scanner on the weekend, one that can scan transparencies (slides, negatives, etc.) I was going through all my binders, picking out which slides I wanted to copy. It was strange, all of these photos taken over 15 years ago, which I could never really look at because, well, they were slides. I had always told myself, back then, that I would one day like to be able to develop them onto film, but I was so desperately poor that I never got around to it, and with time I forgot about it all.
Well, as much as I like to think that I have Luddite leanings, thank Loki for technology. Even now, slides cost about a buck and a half to develop, so the scanner has pretty much already paid for itself. I’m actually thinking of going back to my Olympus OM1, a rickety old 35mm SLR, and developing my negatives at home. Of course, this means sticking to B&W, but I can live with that.
Oh, and about those old photos? Yeah, less weight and more hair on this fellow.