SOME...

I'm back. Though I did not go anywhere too far (besides Kingsville, Katie's, Nana's, Jeff's, the U and downtown Windsor) in the physical sense and during my 'time off' I did frequent the computer area and think of things during semi-long bike rides along the river on semi-nice days - I just didn't blog about it. During the time in which I last bloginated a few things have occurred: Another (very surprising) double murder suicide tragedy devastation involving middle aged suburban Leamington immigrants was followed by yet another celebrity death (Corey Haim), that was, really - less surprising. A fallen star has a much better chance at accidentally overdosing as they do ever regaining control of their dissolving orbit through the sky. Let's see here, what else? I started a two-person-three-piece-anything-goes-and-anyone-can-join band called The Donkees. That's right. The Donkees, spelled different with two e's, similar to that of The Beatles or The Monkees - except we are way less talented with less members (than the former) and more talented (than the latter) but still with less members. I will try to get back with some more info on my super-exciting-more-than-full life. See ya then, faithful followers!

TODAY, TOMORROW & A PORTUGUESE GUY

What a beut out there. The last few days even, have been so nice as to make us believe that winter is over. I Believe. My new "Own the Patio" campaign is finally cashing in. That it is not officially not winter until March 21st (right?) and not unofficially until I officially stop wearing pants for the rest of the year (huh?) - unofficially, that is. Though today I did go for my first official bike ride of '010. The river-side area was adequately sprinkled with nice-weather goers, warm-sun seekers and those wanting desperately to get the heck outside: mostly walkers & groups, some bladers, a few bikers, Jesse from Who Shot Jr., two or more joggers, some picture-takers, winter-haters and work-out fakers, not to mention the elderly, the young, many immigrants and all in between. It was still a tad too windy going one way but pleasant nonetheless. The sun felt forever missed and I soaked it up, through my scalp, face neck and hands as I cruised through puddles as the snow melted and drained, hanging on as it does on the corner of lawns, under trees and piled along curbs. I got a free McDonnie's (McDonalds' version of Timmies?) coffee (great promotion, by the way), and sat across from the now also melting and closed for the season downtown, outdoor ice-rink. (which Katie & I frequented once this season) I got to looking and then thinking, sipping, then contemplating & comparing, drinking - then worrying. And sipping some more. With warm weather comes the end of cold weather. Soups for bbq's. Boots for sandals. Skates for shorts. Snow blowers for lawn mowers. Summer sports for winter sports. Hockey for...? What can I do in comparison to the intensity, fun and overall work-out I receive from my bi-weekly shinny games? At this moment of typing (though I could search on-line) I know only of one arena that stays open throughout the summer - And Mike said the Ice Park in the summer is even worse than the Ice Park in the Winter. And I believe him. Tennis is fun, sweaty and can be exciting (if the match-up is competitive, the court is free and the wind is low), but my feet hurt and I usually quit before I can get the full effect, cardio-wise. Squash is the same, but much more expensive and a little too 'upper class' for me (though I do enjoy the court side draughts) Bike riding is too leisurely (though time-filling and good for people watching and generating blog ideas) and walking too boring. Power Walking. Too odd looking. Softball is more about drinking beer and socializing, whereas hockey is more demanding - all about water bottles, ice time, staying alive and doing anything productive. The obvious alternative but impossible when thought about for many reasons most importantly being that I am thirty and not fifteen would be road and or floor hockey. Though hockey is all that and more to me, it is (in comparison to all work-outs except maybe any membership plan) an expensive exercise regiment - even at only twice a week (3-4 hours). I've spent at least fifteen dollars per week since November to play and have sharpened my skates (which I had to buy at the beginning of the season) three or four times at five bucks a pop. You do the math. I had to buy a forty dollar stick (because wooden ones are so passe - and when you use a composite you understand why)and another (thanks Dad) after that one broke. What I'm saying is that I spend most of my money on pick-up hockey games. One of the best things about my return to semi-competitive hockey is the different types of games/personalities/talent/old friends/and dressing rooms Mike, Jeff & I have walked into these past few months. Mike's fifty minute Sunday night game at South Windsor Arena was always fun, but subject to weird happenings, stupid people and complaints of not enough ice time, "Hatties!" and useless and chatty Lumberjacks - which is why I only went three or four times. The Ice-Park is the Ice-Park. Seven bucks for two hours of ice-time at twelve noon on a Friday in central Windsor is guaranteed to attract every puck yahoo this side of Lauzon - but it is hands-down the best bang for your buck. Tuesday night in Wheatley was good while it lasted. Very competitive and fast and fun (almost too much so for me), but it sort of stopped happening just prior to the organizer's trip to Mexico and is now turning into a memory. Friday afternoons and nights at H.J. Heinz arena in Leamington were good, until Dave Orshinsky halted the 12 o'clock, though we may still be able to hit the late-night Church league match-up (the one where we say a prayer at center ice beforehand) that is if it's still going on as well. The newest game we've found is via Kajiji at the WFCU's Windsor Star Arena. There is always two goalies, two benches full of fun-loving (some crazy) and loud Gino's, a few strays like us and as much after-game, dance-music accompanied ice-time as desired. I usually get off the ice when I can't stand up anymore and my back hurts too much from practicing one-timers (which I have yet to utilize in a real game) I love it when I determine when I get off the ice and not some fat guy on a zamboni turning off the lights. And of course, the two Winter Classic games at Lansbury Park on Ottawa street were a blast, but the out-door season ends even before the thaw begins. Yesterday to be exact. It was much fun again despite the seven foot strip of watery, melting ice up the entire sun-soaked north side. Jogging. Yes, jogging could be a legitimate alternative to hockey, as it is cheap, strenuous as hell, extremely effective but extremely not fun. (at least to me, and by the looks of most people's faces I see running - most people) I repeat. Not fun for most people. When I was a grade school kid I used to do cross-country, just because I did everything else so I figured, why not do this running thing, how hard could running around without stopping for a long time be? Freakin' hard, I answer myself now and then. Impossible to me unless you're born with everything vital to being a good runner, if you're missing one thing, you can't do it: extra large lung capacity, supreme leg strength, and animal like endurance, desire and breathing techniques. Too bad cross-country skiing doesn't involve throwing a baseball fairly hard, because then I'd be a pretty decent runner. This reminds me of one of my only St. Louis Crusader cross-country memories that doesn't involve pain, shortness of breath, more pain, sweat and pain. Though this one is also painful. Grade 7. 1991sh. Nearing the end of the grueling final meet, one which I expected nothing but hopefully just to finish, I found myself in a race to the finish line with a fellow Crusader - and neither of us wanted to lose to the other. Actually, I don't even know if he knew I was behind him, but I was, and I was gaining. Until poof! I was 'snatched up' meters from the finish line by a former Portuguese student coach who said something like "We can't mess up the numbers, you know, but great race. You tried really hard!" You can imagine my surprise. I was like (in my head because I was unable to breath let alone talk, plus I was being bear-hugged by a weirdo) "C'mon man, I was so close. Just let me finish! Nobody cares about the guy who comes in 158th! Goddamit." I didn't say that because I was attending a catholic school, but man was I pissed. Cross-country running has never been the same for me since. Just kidding, but I really do hate it.

C'EST LA VIE. BABY. TBC...

Sorry about the long nothing in between even more emptiness, my oh so faithful readers. Let me get you up to speed as to what I've been up to and what has happened since we last spoke. Canada won the Gold and many others. I enjoyed as much ice time as wanted and had even more fun at our new Tuesday night WFCU game on the Windsor Star Arena. Because of excess forwards I played defence and realized quickly that I hadn't skated backwards in a while. I wrote and finished a take home politics exam, submitted some on-line discussions and worked on sosh. (that is cool & short-formed U speak for sociology, because I can't be bothered) Let's see what else: I've been busy playing NHL 10 and getting pretty decent at it(the only move I can't do is the spinneramma - but I've never really tried to learn it and I question its effectiveness anyways), experiencing and enjoying Windsor's hottest and newest nightclubs, and letting my beard grow out and my thinning hair stubble up. (I've since cleaned up my appearance, the best I can anyways). Also have I settled into watching the rest of the NHL season unfold - though it is hard going back to watching such 'inferior' play in comparison to the stellar Vancouver tournament that was. Some more big news? Hmmm. Yes. Dave Orshinsky had a change of heart and Friday morning Heinz rink hockey is back on. However, I did not play Friday morning hockey today because I blistered my toe while I was Interpretive Rock Dancing two nights ago, besides, I want to play tomorrow in the 2nd bi-annual Winter Classic #2, so I am resting up tonight - plus I did not have a ride to Leamington. Not only have many exciting and life-changing moments occurred in the few days since we last communicated via my brain waves + limbs & fingers + keyboard strikes = published post, but I would also like to take a stroll down memory lane and chronicle my past year and a bit of my living here on Campbell Street. For the exodus is near. It started out fine and dandy. Got a little weird. Then stable again. Fun. Fun. Slowing down. Exodus Looms. Though the apartment was a bit over furnished with out-dated and ugly wooden tables and such (a collection of past tenants left-behind junk), and the bathroom was sprinkled with a nice blanket of the last tenants pubes, and even if the basement was a dank dungeon with a cemetery crawlspace basement of doom that Coppertoes kept trying to get into to do his business (which he did until I shut him out,) - I really liked my new, little but plenty of room, two bed-room $400/month apartment. But I didn't like my soon-to-be middle apartment neighbours - an experience I will get into some other time because today is a happy day. And I can't be bothered. Not to mention the fact that I was constantly 'warned' about the guaranteed possibility of maybe being subjected to living with a strange, unknown to me room-mate, but never was - though twice, people were 'surely' moving in so beware (Mike's brother would have been fine, surely), but to no avail. Besides those few annoyances (one of which was in the form of a 350 pound, slightly askew hanger-on with noticeable and potentially dangerous social problems and anger issues) Phwew! Of course there are plenty of other expected but unexpected minor annoyances that come with the west-side territory, land over-run with an old, barren an extremely unkempt house built in the '20's. Such as: an old and poorly working furnace, bad circulation, mice, clogged drains, running & leaky toilets, and a jammed door knob) Regardless of such nuisances, I thoroughly enjoyed my time here. My Novemember '09 move-in brought with it a shorter distance to school, a cell-phone, the internet, a nice little kitchen and much fun. Coppertoes came along too. And who can forget the intensity and popularity of Sega Genesis' NHL 94 which Brian and I played feverishly (1 remote total, meant 1 period each) while drinking Budweiser in the front room on my hastily built yet reliable four year old PC. Yes, the same NHL 1994 that me and my old neighbours Dave and Pat McIntyre thoroughly enjoyed playing on their Genesis -in their house. (even though their Mom didn't really approve of us playing. I have theories as to why). Back to reality. I mean 1994. I mean 2009. Who knew that no-name Jeff Daniels (not the Dumb & Dumber Michigander) of the Pittsburgh Penguins would be the best player ever and hard-nosed grinder Dave Manson would have scored the greatest goal of all time. (Check out the footage for proof) We once won the Cup with the San Jose Sharks - the third year in existence 1994 Sharks, the same one's who upset the heavily favoured Red Wings in the first round of that year's play-offs. The 1994 San Jose Sharks were led by: Ulf Dahlen, Ray Whitney (who still plays) and Arturs "The Wall" Irbe, who net-minded an NHL record 4412 minutes. Though the real NHL of '94 only played a strike shortened 48 games, we, in my house, on my chairs using my power and computer could play as many games as we wanted to. Some games and time later...NHL 94 for PC naturally led to NHL 2007 for X-Box, which also attracted more players - Mike, Jeff, Ryan. And later, Henry, Pistol Pete, Danny Dib and surely others. Two on two became a must. After we tired of the arcade style and not so realistic EA Sports NHL '07 , (which still, was crazy different and progressive in terms of graphics, details, over-all quality, realistic-ness - everything, in comparison to the now-ancient Sega games)- we met Him. I mean Her. A short time later Mr. (or Mrs.) NHL '09 for 360 walked in, sat down and powered up. And that's when our lives changed. Reading back what I am typing and understanding that what's written is the truth (though a bit strange) - I am taken aback, for never could I ever have thought I could think in such a way. About video games. About one specific video game. About a video game being a hermaphrodite. What? But like Mike said, "I wouldn't doubt if playing this game makes us smarter." I almost fully think I one hundred percent possibly agree with him. "It's in the game." That's right Mr. and Mrs. EA. If it's in the game, it's in the game. Never have I (and safe to say neither have my fellow opponents, teammates and friends) ever so been into a single one video game in our respective lives, let alone with such passion and admiration for the quality, realistic-ness and unrivaled fun associated with '09. But the best was yet to come because soon then did '010, the mecca of hockey video games - came in to the picture, even though we were still officially and according to the calender in 2009. (you know how newer models and dates work). We thought the last version of the game was amazing. We were wrong. Dead wrong. What little we thought was inaccurate with the '09 (realistic-ness of shots, accurate passing was too easy, and what few elements were missing (deking/specialty moves, etc.) was fixed in '010 - plus many other unthinkable features added that only 'real' hockey people would notice. And create. And sell for seventy dollars to people like us. This love of one video-game, went hand-in-hand with our hatred of the X-Box system itself. Surprising, weird, pain-in-the-ass unsolvable problems that not even X-Box Joe from Kajiji could figure out, got in the way of our enjoyment - though I bet he wishes he didn't offer the year long guarantee. We've since kibashed the problem because Ryan has a functioning system and has thankfully lived next door since November - and the fun is still strong, as much if not more so today, in early '010 as it was so long ago in October of last year. What else has been taking up my time? Or had been taking up my time I should say. Threat Level Midnight. After a summer of jamming on Reedmeere, and coming up with ten or so songs and discarding just as many, then playing five or six different, some packed-some not, but always fun shows - we stopped playing altogether. Though it was super fun and produced good times and cool tunes, I admittedly could feel the ending of the band approaching, (even though it would have had to happen soon enough anyhow) but still wanted it to go. C'est la vie. Baby. Maybe that was the reason behind all those cracked tooth dreams. Maybe not. Yes. Let's see. A few Campbell and Campbell-related experiences: The tv on a tv table on a regular table in my living room. Playing catch, talkin', laughin', and bbq'in' in the front-yard/porch (the back yard once), breaking cheap ass and tacky plastic and shit garden lights (1 of many reasons why I stayed in the front) and biking everywhere. The last year and a half. Hmmm. So many things to discuss, yet so little time to recall and record it. A Garbage Strike. Skunks, Racoons, Squirrels and Cats. One old dog. Jammin' in the upstairs bedroom for a minute. It was weird bouncin' around and rockin' out on a second floor, looking out a window. At people walking by. As they watched and stared. But Big Psycho T and his cronie were soon to move in, and despite him saying that he would have been cool with us jamming next door (I say this [in my head] as I laugh [out loud] in a non-funny way) - we halted business, and booked it to Ryman's basement, formed TLM - but which in turn led to it's own, more hostile and mean confrontation with a few rude and perhaps drunk older people, specifically one older gentleman with a chip on his shoulder and a big mouth to boot. "It would be one thing if you were playing music, but that's just a racket. Pure trash." Wowzers, I thought after walking into Ryan and him involved in a going no-where, some-what loud, face to face, generation-gapped debate over common courtesy, noise laws and personal tastes in 'good' music. Considering we only usually practiced once a week (twice rarely) for only a few hours at a time, and the basement was padded with foam and that compared to most music being played in Windsor basements - TLM's rock and synth sound wasn't that hard to 'handle,' was it? Mind you, the steaming and sore seniors probably spent their days sitting quietly, drinking tea and reading the paper in a tv-less room beside the large window situated directly next to side of the basement we practiced in so, but still... Do you have to insult us? Me personally? And put down my creative outlet for life itself? A part of me that is very important, brings me joy, and company - a huge self-identifying part of all that is KPW? There are a lot other worse things we could have been doing with our time. Despite what you said (in cruel fashion and with such contempt) I am creative enough to come up with some fairly creative ways in which we could have been spending our time. With the Motley Crue that was us - we could have f'd shit up. Though, we didn't. We just played some music, had some fun, hurt nobody (on purpose) and innocently hung out as friends always do. Pick-up hockey. Yes, hockey became a big part of my life. On ice, with my thumbs and on the tube. In the winter of '09 with the push from Katie, the equipment from Dad, a stick from Mom (and later Dad) and the opportunities and lifts to arenas from Jeff, and Mikey Bizzel - I hit the ice. Literally. It was tough (and still very much is) but a great way to blow some steam, get some exercise and shoot a rubber puck as hard as I can at a guy standing in front of a net. Just I did as a kid. Potato Disasters. Yes. Much food was eaten on Campbell. Though the variety left something to be desired. But it was consumed nonetheless. Rice Surprises. Awesome Tuna Salad. Salads. Slop combinations of any many kinds. Canadian Lasagna (any sort of pasta with corn added) and cabbage. Vegetables. Ground beef, double-doubles and home-made Christmas cards. C'est la vie. To be continued... Baby.

Five days Later

Back, back, way back... Gone! Hi, unlike that baseball I just faked cranked out of the ballpark in my mind - I am not going anywhere - into the hands, an outstretched glove, the stands or skidding in between a row of empty seats. You can't throw me back onto the field in disgust and/or pleasure or put me in a glass box on a shelf. Nope, with the hype, hurrah and coverage of the Olympics now a fast fading memory, the NHL cruising in on the back-side of its schedule, and the taste of springy air and melting snow in the air - it is time to move on. Not me physically (yet), but my vested emotions in winter and all it has entailed this year. There is no more Friday morning pick-up hockey in Leamington because Dave Orshinsky can't justify to the Complex brass (Frank T. Sherk III?) the turning on of the H.J Heinz Arena lights for only ten skaters. It is just not economically viable, he says. My time on Campbell is also winding down. Four weeks left and counting. That's okay. As the cell-phone commercial voice over so eloquently says as the talent smashes his four hundred dollar black-berry with a bat, "When the love is gone, move on." Well, I plan (I use the word 'plan' loosely, it's more like what I'm going to do next, at this point in time)on moving back home with the folks for a few months, but I don't really consider that 'moving on.' It's more like 'moving home again.' Actually, if everything goes according to plan (there is that word again) I will celebrate my thirtieth birthday in my parent's basement (if they had one) on the street I grew up on (from five years onward) in a house I've moved in and out of four (or is it five?) different times. Let's see here. From ages 5-19 I lived in Kingsville. On Lansdowne. 19-22: Windsor. 22-24: Kingsville. 24-27: Windsor. 27-28: Kingsville and from 28 til now: Windsor. On Campbell. The last year or so has been interesting, fun, exciting at times, boring at others, sometimes crappy, but mostly comfortable, somewhat warm and enjoyable. Read on to know more.