So why'd you fill my sorrow
With the words you borrowed
From the only place you've known?
And why'd you sing Hallelujah
If it means nothing to you
Why'd you sing with me at all?
Damien Rice, Delicate

Boring, unattractive & illiterate seeks same - 29

What can I say, I find Craigslist entertaining. I do try not to take it too seriously though.

Tonight is the CBC Poetry Face-Off. I really wanted to go, but I have a midterm Friday, and it is sold out now. I would like to find out where to go for other poetry events during the year though. I always thought of poetry readings as something to do with teenage angst, something boring and silly, but every time they play a promo for it on CBC, I'm amazed. It's full of literary allusions and clever rhymes, and the occasional line stolen from hip hop, and it sounds like a lot of fun. In the same vein, I wish rap hadn't been taken over by the masters of bling. I listen to the stuff on CPI's Libations for the Gods mix and it's absolutely incredible. I've heard rumours that French rap is generally intelligent and political. Too bad my French is nowhere near good enough for that speed or level of slang.

For my birthday, I may just have to buy myself a Great Outdoor Fight shirt from Achewood. Ray is my hero. Actually, Phillipe is my real hero. He is a good communist!

Happy 56th birthday, Dad. (And congratulations to Melissa on your father's birthday!) Here is my favourite photo of my father. Our beautiful square grand Chickering piano (which has prettier legs than this one), the sideburns, the look of concentration, the brown church hymnal that I forget the name of though I remember liking to play song 369, and the blue shoes that I now covet. Somewhere there's a picture of me as a toddler, sitting on his lap as he plays piano. I need to remember to steal that when I go home next.



*This is the correct (otherwise known as Dutch) pronounciation.