Dear 302

You are an unfit human being. Anyone as stupid, rude and self absorbed as you should not be allowed to live in close habitation with actual people. I despise you on my own behalf because your ignorance wrecks my Saturday evenings - EVERY SINGLE WEEK! I, however, am living here at no cost and will stay no longer than the middle of October. Therefore I particularly loathe you on behalf of the poor moron who just paid a quarter of a million dollars to own a residence above yours. No one should have to pay that kind of money to live this close to a chod like you.

I have a wager going with some friends that in ten years this manufactured environment posing as a neighbourhood will be a ghetto. You are one of the main ingredients that will lead to that degraded state of being. No one who wants to have an actual home - as opposed to a place to stow their stuff - will want to live near someone like you and the population of this building will become increasingly transient as property values plummet. I sincerely hope that you find yourself unable to realize the original investment you made on your condo so that the normal people around you will not be the only ones to suffer from your mindlessness.

Sincerely
402

Telling Stories to Myself

I am first and foremost - a raconteur. Every since I was little I've been recognized by friends and family - people who in years to come, lost the ability to see me at all - as a story teller. They talked for years about the novel I would write. I grew up thinking that I was meant to be a famous writer. When I was 13 I wanted to be Richard Brautigan, when I was 15 I wanted to be Emily Bronte. I've lost track of the writers I've idolized since then. I used to think, shit if I could just shut up and write this stuff down I'd have my novel. Friends began carrying paper and pencil on my behalf. I got one of those funny little voice recorders. It did not stop me from telling my story to anyone who would listen. I have honed my craft on every single event that has ever occurred in my life - good, bad, benign or terrifying, everything that has ever happened to me I have shaped into a story. I lie awake at night telling myself the story of my day. I tell it and retell it; polish it; edit it; perfect it. When I tell somebody what happened to me today (or any day) the story I am telling has grown through several revisions. All of it will be true, even if parts of it never happened. And as I tell the story, I am watching my audience. I gauge their reaction. I change my pacing, possibly make a wild digression, maybe cut it short, or ad lib in some way. I will do whatever it takes to keep them listening. The next time that I tell this story, and every time after that it will have altered subtly based on the reactions I get.

Commercials

It's a really good idea to pay close attention to television advertising. If you're exposed to it at all you run the risk of infection unless you are vigilant at every moment. The most dangerous are those for the big ticket items like cars and houses. Car advertising in particular is at a disadvantage in the game. Pretty much all they've got is lifestyle and the attendant self image. Recently though, they've started to mimic personal items like cosmetics, clothing and medication by creating 'syndromes' that can only be cured by a particular car. Boredom apparently being the biggest one.  Bored with your life? your job? We've got a car for that!

God is a Bedazzler

Seriously - it's the only thing that can explain the sudden proliferation of Bedazzler-related incidents I've been noticing lately. It started on the red carpets and migrated to the runway. It is of course a shameless rehash of fashion trash but still - I can't help but believe that I would be so happy if everything I owned was studded with rhinestones and sequins (nothing too close to the face - sparkly-circles-on-the-chin is not a good look for me: or anyone frankly!). Beyond wardrobe, I need more disco balls in my life. My conversations need to be more scintilating, my wit more brilliant and my hair way shinier. Bedazzler, if you're out there somewhere and listening to my prayers, I am ready to surrender my whole self to you - please Bedazzler, sparkle on me!

One of the worst things about living alone is that there is no one else to blame when the ice cube tray is empty.

Baby Free Zone

I'm sure I am probably the last person on the face of the earth to notice this, but I suddenly realized that babies have become both an industry and an accessory. There is so much stuff out there for babies that it boggles the mind. The variety of products is staggering, but it is the ingenuity that really blows me away - running strollers are just the tip of the iceberg. In fact, the growth has happened so quickly that I've heard women who had their children ten years ago complain to new mothers that it was much harder in their day. Yesterday I spoke to a neighbour who is 6 months pregnant and currently stays home with an 18 month old, and she was wishing that these things had been available when her first was born!

Everything to make life easier for parents and baby. And of course, it's all unbelievably expensive. The newest accoutrement are not for the financially challenged. Walk in to your local espresso bar on a Saturday morning, and you'll often find it full of fathers accompanying progeny with a thousand dollars worth of gear in tow. More if there's an actual stroller. My first car didn't cost what some of these buggies are going for. Sundays it's the same show but with mommy, daddy and baby having brunch at their favourite spot.

Now I may be wrong - it has happened - but I don't think that these matitudinal outings are(as others would have us believe) about parents maintaining their pre-baby lifestyle. I'm discovering the walkways of many a favourite cafe are becoming cluttered with the infant paraphenalia and I swear I never saw these folks before the bundle of joy arrived. I think the purpose of these outings is to allow parents to show off. The way you raise, dress, feed and transport your baby is a statement about who you are. You can't just be a good parent you must be seen to be a good parent.

This of course means that the baby industry has triggered a cascade of trends that new parents can adopt in an effort to define who they are post-baby. All the green trends, all the organic trends, all the trendy trends. You're not just Carmen Alexander's father or Violet's mom, you're that really cool/hot hybrid-driving/nanny-employing guy/chick who no one can believe is even married let alone the parent of two children! OMG! Pay close attention to these people because not only do their spending habits determine a lot of the trends, they act like consumer crash test dummies for the rest of us to watch.

The Provincial Election

I just saw a public service announcement from the government urging us to invest and here's the twist. It's not the federal government urging us to invest in Canada Savings Bonds, it's the Ontario government urging us to play the stock market! What! I can't decide if this is really smart or really diabolical.

I gotta tell you though, I love Dalton McGinty's new campaign - the effortlessly earnest urban left wingers, the 21st century yuppies looking you in the eye and telling you a heart warming story about some good deed performed, apparently, by Dalton McGinty personally; telling us how the personal is affected by the political. And you know what? I want to believe them so badly - I really, really do. If for no other reason than that I'm tired of always having to guess if people are telling the truth or not. I really want to believe that these people, these sincere people , people who could live next door to me, people I know, people I respect...I desperately want to believe that the things they are telling me are not just true, but that they actually matter! That they are outward spreading ripples on a pond. That we won't all regret this in a few years.