When it Rings Will You Answer?

One and One and One is Three

Archive for June 2012

Last night I had a dream that we went to Disney Land

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…went on all the rides, didn’t have to wait in line

Okay, that did not really happen, it is an Ataris song. However, last night I did have a random dream. I was at a Mad Caddies show. I believe the Opera House was the venue, although details have become hazy this morning and I might just be throwing the Opera House in the mix because that is where I saw them play over a decade ago. Seriously, the last time I saw the Mad Caddies was when they opened for NOFX in 2002 (shit, I just remembered as I was typing this that the show was at the Kool Haus, but I am too lazy to hit the delete button, editing is for dorks).

Where was I? Right, so, Harriet was all like, “Bitch please, er’body knows that Spiderman 3 was the best movie ever made.” Wrong story…hold on, let me just try to get back on track here…dream…Mad Caddies…Opera House…alright, got it…sorry ’bout that friendo…

So, I am at the Opera House (we’ll just stick with it) and the Mad Caddies are on stage. There are three other people in the crowd and they were Japanese. I guess we were the last bastion of the fortieth wave ska revival. I decided to camp out at the side of the stage, arms crossed and nodding my head (but skanking my little ska heart out on the inside). Despite the lack of crowd, the Caddies were killing it on stage. The other three people in the crowd were drinking heavily. They were becoming more and more┬ábelligerent. Picture if you will the scene from Kill Bill when Gogo Yubari is sitting at the bar drinking with the really drunk guy. Now picture three of those drunk guys at a random ska show in Toronto.

I am growing increasingly incensed at their shouting and general lack of courtesy towards the band on stage. I notice that the apparent ring leader of the group is trying to get up on stage. He is too drunk to accomplish his goal. He sets his sights instead on the set list taped to the stage. There is always someone at the show who wants the set list, but most will wait until the show is over to ask for it. This particular patron of ska decides that he wants, nay, he NEEDS that setlist RIGHT NOW. His first initial grab for the setlist is met by a stomp to the hand from the trumpet player. However, this does not deter said drunken fool from several more attempts.

The band was clearly becoming frustrated and the vibe in the room had soured. One more grab for the setlist and I had finally had enough. I grabbed him by the shoulder and he pushed me off. He tried for the list again and I grabbed him by the shoulder once more. He then swung for the fences (by fences I mean my face) and missed due to his beer induced lack of coordination. I have never punched someone in my life, but apparently in my dreams I pack one hell of a punch because I dropped him with one good shot. Security dragged him away. The room was suddenly packed and the Mad Caddies broke into “All American Badass.”

I have no idea what it all means (for instance, why were the drunk dudes Japanese?), or why this random dream is the one I decided to share, but if the Mad Caddies announce a show in Toronto any time soon, I plan to avoid it.

 

Written by whenitringswillyouanswer

June 10, 2012 at 9:50 AM

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Hipsters & Hobos

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maybe we should go to paris
we’ll speak broken french amongst the poets,
drink the best wine, break bread,
and go dancing with the artists
or maybe we could stay here in toronto
drink cheap wine in the park with the hipsters and the hobos
we can forget that there is a world outside the city
it doesn’t matter much to me
as long as i am with you
we can buy a cottage in bobcaygeon
listen to the hip, play horseshoes with the neighbours
we’ll tell them stories of the city
the hipsters and the hobos, the artists and the poets
and everything would be perfect
if you’d only tell me how to fix this

Written by whenitringswillyouanswer

June 2, 2012 at 10:46 AM

Posted in Creative Writing

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Little Things

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*This is a really old poem(?) I wrote. I needed a place to keep it, so here it is.*

Little Things

it was the little things about her that he missed

like the times when she’d borrow his sweater

she would give it back to him months later

and it would smell of her for days

he would always hesitate to wash it but in his heart he knew she would always borrow it again

he hated himself for taking that for granted

he wanted to call her so desperately

but was in a state far too aware that it would be impossible

he could only press pen to paper and drain the memories onto the page in front of him

if only he could tell her about

how he loved the nights she’d fall asleep before the second intermission

about how he’d listen to her heart beat

how it would be in complete unison with whatever song was in his head

that it was always a love song, always.

he wanted to tell her how he loved the way her lips moved every time she read

but he could only lay there with the knowledge he never could

maybe she knew that her smile drove him crazy

and that her laugh could lift him out of even the darkest places

surely though, she must have known, it would be the little things that he’d miss the most.

Written by whenitringswillyouanswer

June 2, 2012 at 8:42 AM

Posted in Creative Writing

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