the gift of a golden voice

i'm just paying my rent everyday in the tower of song.

i heard tower of song first during the cbc's 50 cancon tracks project, and it didn't make any sense at all then, but now i understand. rather, i don't understand the lyric, at least not precisely, but i understand the sex appeal. jazz police i think i understand. it is about fascism and generational divides. jazz police are working for my mother. all my experience of leonard cohen will now be shaded, for the better, i think, by the knowledge that he is broke, and that his manager pilfered most of his retirement savings. it takes the foreboding mystery out of his work, i think. he's just this old guy, worried about retirement. he is not a monolith.

i've got another vote determining issue now: this one is for parks board candidates, and it is ' for or against the preservation of nat bailey stadium'. actually, this is larger than just the parks board. if sam sullivan is pro-nat bailey stadium, and jim green hedges his bets on nat bailey stadium, i will vote for sam sullivan. no, who am i kidding: i'm actually going to vote for mr. peanut.

yesterday, while... pottering about, i guess.
steely dan, everything must go (2003)
the sea and cake, two bedrooms (2002)
michael hedges, aerial boundaries (1984)
damon and naomi, with ghost (2000)
lisa germano, geek the girl (1996)

i catalog this information for my own benefit, because these lists have meaning for me, and probably me alone. but this is about NARCISSISM, writ large, and constant autobiography.

bought, today, at a&b.
leonard cohen, i'm your man (1988)
simon and garfunkel, bookends (1968)
richard thompson, front parlour ballads (2005)

i had no idea that the latter even existed before i saw it on the rack at the store, which hasn't happened to me since i was 14, i think. i've always known what was coming out, especially from my very favourite bands and songwriters. i pay less attention to these things now, and i think that the lack of anticipation is probably healthy.

i'm trying to find the first novel in sharon butala's loose trilogy of gates of the sun, luna, and the fourth archangel. i am reading them in reverse, which doesn't seem to be a problem. it's like a detective series, this way! 'what flaws was she trying to compensate for in the subsequent novel?', i get to discover. i feel very compelled to read her work, although it is not particularily good. the fourth archangel became, at points, hamhanded and didactic, which i enjoyed reading but felt vaguely embarrased about, especially the connie kaldor/lightning bit. the key to analyzing her novels, i feel, is her personal confessional, the perfection of the morning. she is at her best as an author when she doesn't attempt to solve her narrative problems, which is why the real life collection of short stories is so fantastic.

my title tomorrow will be petrokazakhstan, which is the name of a petroleum company that operates exclusively in kazakhstan, but, until today, was owned and headquartered out of calgary. today, it was bought by a larger petroleum company owned and headquartered out of china.

i am the only person who cares about bird flu. people may be worried about catching it, but i may be the only person i know who is worried about the concept. bird flu, people. i love bird flu. maybe bird flu is like big brother. i love you, bird flu.