I have no words.
Via Justin Kanew’s twitter feed
I have no words.
Via Justin Kanew’s twitter feed
Back when I was lovably single (compared to now, slovenly lovable) I use to go out to bars alone a lot. A LOT. I wasn’t much of a drinker but there I was, standing in the corner, in my head playing “Shag, Marry, Shallow Grave” with all the muscle marys walking by. Ultimately going home alone, I would always wonder about my self confidence. Back then (in the 80’s kids!) I would look at my wardrobe and think, “Okay, cool tee-shirt, regular 501s, sneakers that looked like they’re worn on Moonbase Alpha,” and think, yep, I’m a catch. And yet wonder why I was still single. Oh I had the average level of confidence any 20 year old had, just not so much when it came to stringing words together. Back then, I was a geek. And a nerd. Back before it was cool.
I think I was 20 years too cool, too soon for myself. Geek cred was no where near as popular as it is now. Back then, if you liked Star Wars, you were looked upon as being socially awkward and basically dirty. Now, if you don’t know the mythos of “Han Shot First” then you’re seen as a quaint anachronism. Back then I was wearing ironic tee-shirts more as a statement of the times, than fashion and nobody really cared. Nowadays if you don’t have Threadless, then you’re nobody. The Nerd Culture has been co-opted and Hollywood-ized and I’m cool with that. In fact I get a good chuckle when I see “kids” today acting like they invented feather weaves in their hair (Buffy St Marie, much?). Those who forget the past are condemned to relive it. Those who remix the past are condemned to have fun!
So would I have a drink with myself? Damn straight! Now or back then! I’d be my best buddy trying to outdo myself with cool tee-shirts!
And I’d probably win at “Shag, Marry, Shallow Grave”
Disclosure: I wrote this post not for Stoli (well, yes I did) but for exchange for promotion for my AIDS Walk on September 25th. Be a trooper and click the link to the right and support my walk!
Some pics from SharkBoy of my day in front of Re:Reading as a Sandtrooper.
So this past week has been busy…
In just under two weeks I’ve twice had to bump my AIDS Walk goal up to $2000 ($1000 to $1500 to…). So that is super awesome. Thank you again to all who have supported me! And you haven’t yet… what are you waiting for!?
On Sunday last weekend I did the most amazing fall at College and Yonge. I tripped on the corner, managed to not stumble into anyone waiting for the opposing light, and continued to stumble for at least a quarter mile. At least time slowed down enough to feel like I was stumblerunning a marathon. You know that feeling of “Shit. I know I’m going down in front a crowd of people. In public. Please. No pants pooping…” Well I did that.
It looked something like this…
Apparently I stumbled past SharkBoy and he later questioned the stupid fucking grin spread across my face as I tucked and rolled onto the ground.
I of course ended the land with a Steve-O style “Thumbs Up!” to the woman who shouted “Are you alright?” from 1000 yards away.
What else… Oh right. I’ll be at Re:Reading this Saturday from 11 to 1-ish in full Trooper kit, supporting Chris who made an incredibly generous contribution to my Walk. Bring your camera and buy a book/DVD/collectable. It’s a fun store!
Next week we’re having a garage sale where I’m selling off half my robots, books and other sundry. postbear will be shilling some things too. Deets to follow.
We’re less than 2 weeks away from our NYC/LAX/SFO vaykay! I’m obsessed with the NYC/LAX leg of the trip (which will only be 48 hours tops) purely because I can’t wait to stand in Times Square again. Love that space. The rest is pure poutine on top of found poutine.
SharkBoy has become obsessed with Instragram. His pictures on Flickr are amazing but run those pics through the cheap filters of yesteryear and they become sublime. Download it now and follow him.
So that’s me updated.
When I was a kid, say about 9 years old or so, I was begrudgingly taken to a extremely rural country fair by my best friend’s dad. The Conklin ones, where the ride operators seem like the movie “Carnival of Souls” was a documentary about them.
I say “begrudgingly” because the man was never really a “dad” let alone a competent parent. On our way there I was sitting behind him in the back seat, driver side, with all the windows open. Without comment, he dug his finger into his nose, two knuckles deep and removed a nugget that would have made Zha Zha Gabor drool. That is, if boogers were diamonds, of course.
He flung said nugget out the window.
Said nugget then landed on my arm. I gag. I pinch back a girly scream. I flick it out the window. And I will never forget seeing his eyes in the rear view mirror – blazing with “Yeah. I did that!” kind of response. He knew it landed on me and yet didn’t apologize.
Flash forward to the park itself. I think my parents might have given him some money for my rides and food, but fine fairground dining never materialized. However, he did manage to snag some beers somewhere later that day…
My friend insisted that we go into the haunted house. You know the fun house kind of trailer, decked out with garish gargoyles painted on the outside, while inside is a maze so dark that if anyone were to turn the lights on full, would show nothing but greasy face prints all over the walls. At the time, not ever been on one of these rides, I had no clue what to expect. I was scared and needed about 10 minutes of encouragement to just step up the stairs. My best friend bailed on me well into the 7th minute of his father berating me in front of the ever expanding crowd around the entrance to the ride.
Eventually I found the courage and wandered into the dark hallway. Ahead of me, two teenage girls slowly walked, engulfed into the dark. Suddenly they screamed such a scream that I stopped stalk still. Fear gripped me so hard that I was unable to move which resulted in people piling up behind me, blocking the flow into the fun house.
I stood there crying. It was all I could do.
After a time, getting shoved around by strangers in the dark cramped hallway, a meaty hand grabbed me from behind and led me out through the entrance. My best friend’s dad had “rescued” me and I spent the rest of the day by the entrance of the fair until my “best” friend and his dad were done at the fair.
I realize after typing all this out that it sounds a bit like a downer, and yes it was at the time, but now I look back and laugh, like a good scary carnival ride is meant to do. Only it’s 37 years late.
I’ve only been in one fun house since then – at Universal Studios, where there was a guy in a werewolf mask who took a shining to SharkBoy after scaring the pants off us. Twice. I’ll stick with rollercoasters for now.
It’s time for another photo game!
This time our subject was Toronto Necropolis Cemetery in Riverdale, where we ran around for an hour shooting pictures of interesting things.
This time, SharkBoy brought a prop, which I think was cheating! Oooo! Next time Mr Cheater McCheatpants!
Anyway, here is my Flickr Set
Here is Sharkboy’s Flickr Set
And here are five that I like. You can judge in the comments!
You might have heard I’m doing the ScotiaBank AIDS Walk in a full Sandtrooper armor.
Why not sponsor me today?
Prior to my surprise trip to Disney (which I will get around to writing about soon, promise!) SharkBoy and I purchased a pair of Vibram’s Fivefingers shoes. As you can see by the picture they’re a bit unconventional, and have a tendency to make people react in some way.
Before I go on, I will answer the three main questions I get all the time when people see them:
• Yes, they are comfortable. Imagine wearing flip flops that surround your feet. But with better support.
• I do walk differently. Because you virtually walk “barefoot”, you find yourself rolling from heel, to outer foot to pad to toes. Is this better? I can say that last year about this time I was suffering from a knee that would “give out” when doing simple things like going up a sidewalk curb. I’ve been to a physiotherapist since then and have taken his advice on how to properly walk – meanwhile, these shoes have been helping me maintain the small walking “tricks” he suggested. I have not had any issues with my knee since.
• It is odd having your toes separated, but I’m now able to grab onto subway car poles like an ape. It does take me a little longer to put them on, my pinky toes seem to have separation anxiety and usually wind up in with it’s neighbour’s slot.
Now on to the general public’s reaction:
At Disney’s Animal Kingdom, I was crossing in front of a family of 4 to get a shot of a monkey so I had to scoot a bit to avoid collision. As I pass the mother of the group blurted out (in what I thought was an angry manner) “What is up with those shoes?!” I didn’t look back – I was too scared.
On the subway home I had a slightly eccentric dude sidle up to me while waiting for the doors to open. I say “eccentric” because he looked like a 35 year old skateboarding guy who looked like he was in between jumps and beer bongs. He looks down. “DUDE HOLY SHIT THOSE SHOES!!” He announces to the entire car. It was like pulling the cranium off a fresh kill amongst a crowded zombie apocalypse. Everyone turned towards me. “Yeah, they’re…”
“FUCKING COOL!!” And so on. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise through the declarations of awesomeness.
Generally people are nice and most will come right out and ask me about them. But there are the Torontonians who don’t want to directly acknowledge your difference. I would be walking with SharkBoy somewhere and if the sidewalk was crowded around us I may notice ambient conversations. I would also notice the sudden absence of conversation as people drop their register and whisper “Look. At. His. Feet.” This happens more than people coming right out and asking, which kind of saddens me.
Like many things that are different, I have a feeling that they will become the Crocs of this decade (when we were buying ours, there was another gay couple at Europe Bound purchasing them too – Gays! Fore-bearers of trends!) but for the time being, I’ll enjoy wearing them without caring what other people think.