Step Up to Get Smacked Down

I did it.

I was at the SHOUT OUT fifteen minutes early and went to the corner liquor store and build a fucking portable. You know...water bottle, quarter filled; pint of vodka; mix, shake, drink. I had the SHOUT OUT to do today by myself, so my logic was clear...why do it sober? That was some bullshit. I was drinking my ass off.

The poets were strolling in, signing in. We had a thin crowd early but I didn't give a shit. I was going to give everyone five minutes anyway. Even the feature had not arrived by the time I got started with the SHOUT OUT. We took off like a shot, with the readers moving at a pretty good clip. I was surprised as to the speed that we were traveling. Then our feature arrived. Diminutive and intense, JL is a fireball. I can't wait until she reads.

I take us through the intermission and go outside with T-fuk, and he pulls out his Roscoe and packs me a one-hit. I light that rocket and blow my brains out just as sure as if it was a .357 magnum. I walk in grinning as if I saw Aretha Franklin's asshole. I introduce JL and we move on with the SHOUT OUT. I move us to close down on time. Cyndi Lauper starts blasting the music at six sharp, her DJ taking the wheel to spin his ratshit skills. My mother is a better DJ and she's almost fucking deaf. This prick's only skill with a turntable is the volume control.

I get 'er done. The SHOUT OUT is over. People were slipping out before it's finish, proving that the reading was going into overtime and losing energy. I broke it off not a moment too soon. Good night everyone, and I'll see you next week. Peace.

It was over. I broke up the stage and took my time. I was tired and I wanted to bang off this baby and head home. Oz and G-Hard were there, D-lite, and JL, they were going to hang out afterwards. I was fucked in the head. I wasn't in the mood. I wanted home more than anything. Antisocial? No. Grateful that it was all over? Yes. I said my goodnights, shook my hands, and hopped my ass on an uptown train. To prove my point about being too tired I rode past the 6th avenue stop on the L train to the last stop at 8th Avenue.

Waiting at the Eighth Avenue stop my bladder fails and I have to go. The platform is not all that crowded so I head down the station and then down the tube into the tracks, going behind one of the pillars in the dark, with the soot, roaches and rats to take a piss. I listened for an oncoming train because it would be a shame if my dumb, urinating ass gets spread along the wall of this station like red jam with shirt and slacks. The only thing recognizable other than a huge red smear with shoes would be my dick lolling from the opened fly of a blood drenched pair of pants. Nice fucking end for a nice dumb ass.

But SHIT, I had to go.

Push me far enough, I'll piss in public. Still, you think that I had all of my head on my shoulders, you're wrong. I hopped on the number two heading downtown in a fucking hurry, carrying me to Brooklyn. TO BROOKLYN!! Damn. I had to slip off the train at Chambers and catch the uptown train which this time roared my slapped ass home.

The subway is like a huge children's maze when you're stoned. I like being stoned at home, where I can study the paint patterns on the walls and chase my own ass in the shadows. There's a lot to do when you're fucked up! I step into my home, throw my back against the door, close my eyes.

Hobobob

MANCAT MONDAY: DYLAN THE PURRODIGAL

Here's Dylan, the Purrodigal Pussycat, in post-return photos taken in our back yard. I'm not worried about him running again, because I believe it was the collar and leash that freaked him out to begin with. Anyway, I noticed a small scratch on his nose, and furst concluded that he must have had a battle with another animal. However, after I thought about it more, I believe it may be from the buckle on the collar, as he was trying to get it off his head. We'll nefur know fur sure -- and certainly he may have been furry close by, but unwilling to come home until he was free of that infurnal contraption.

At least he made it back in time fur Mancat Monday!

MANCAT MONDAY: DANTE THE EFUR-PURRESENT

And here is the efur-purresent Dante who comfurted me while his brother was away! I'd ask him "Where's Dylan?" and he would look around quizzically. Several times he would snap to attention if he heard a noise, which only purrompted me to run to the door again to check.

When Dylan returned and headed straight to his food dish, Dante was the furst to welcome him back by sticking his nose directly up Dylan's butt! He continued to sniff him all ofur while Dylan noshed. They had welcome-back head butts, too, after I sneaked in cuddles and kisses with Dylan.

So, here is the loyal and devoted brofur, Dante, on this Mancat Monday, too!

DYLAN'S HOME SWEET HOME!

Dylan is home! I slept on the couch again and heard the most wonderful yowling at the patio door at 4:40 this morning! I went to sleep hoping that I would see him first thing in the morning and it certainly was first thing!

He came home without the leash and collar -- but that's fine! I'm happy he was able to wriggle out of it, because the thought of him trailing that leash and getting tangled really worried me.

He seems none the worse for wear and was voraciously hungry! It was a joy to watch him chow down as he made the rounds of the various types of cat food I put out. And of course he wanted treats, too!

Dante seemed happy to see him as well, and was busily sniffing his butt in welcome! Domino didn't care one way or the other (but then Dylan has been known to attack her).

Anyway, the world is right again and it's a bright, sunny day! And thank you all for the purrs, prayers and pawsitive vibes that I'm sure had a big part in helping Dylan find his way home.

These pictures aren't from this morning, but they do show Dylan reuniting with Dante after a little outing, and then trying to claw his way through the screen door (but getting stuck instead)!

I'm so happy that I still have my 3-Ds furmily unit, and we look forward to sharing our future with all of you on the blogosphere! Thanks once again to efurryone out there!

Ah, don't you just love a happy ending!

DYLAN' S STILL MISSING

I just wanted to thank all of you for your support. I've had missing cats before, and one came back and one did not. I'm hopeful for Dylan though because he ran away before we could even get him in the car -- he was right in front of our house. So, he must be in the area somewhere.

However, we back on some wooded ravines that go for miles in either direction. I sure hope he didn't go back there.

We have done what we can for now, and it's just a waiting game. We put in a Lost Pet Report at our local Humane Society (there's only one), and posted flyers with his picture on all the community mailboxes around here, as well as one at the local vet's office, which is the only one that is close at all.

We've alerted neighbours to look out for him and have set out food in the front and back, as well as some socks with the scent of mama on them (I got this suggestion from a list of things to do when your pet is lost). I sat outside in the back and then the front with the other cats, too and called for him. So hopefully the smells of home will waft his way and lure him back soon.

I just hope that he hasn't gotten tangled and trapped somewhere because of the leash.
I'll post again when there's news of some sort.

Thanks once again for all the prayers and good wishes for Dylan's safe return. It really helps.

A Conversation with Larry McDonald of the Globe & Mail

30 May 2009

I recently received an e-mail enquiry from Larry McDonald, co-author of the Globe & Mail's "Me and My Money" column. The following discussion is preliminary only, but I felt that some of the material covered might be of interest to the readers of my blog. My responses to Mr. McDonald's questions follow below:

What investments do you have in your portfolio (name of stocks, mutual funds, etc.)?

Primarily gold and/or silver mining companies, with larger holdings in Goldcorp, Yamana Gold, Minefinders, Northgate Minerals, Pan American Silver and Franco Nevada, and also quite a few smaller cap explorers and miners, such as Rubicon Minerals, Premier Gold, Jaguar Mining, ATAC Resources, etc. I also often invest in warrants in many cases, where they are available, including Goldcorp, Yamana, Minefinders and New Gold, for example.

What is your investment approach?

While I do some active buying and selling depending upon factors of relative valuation and timing, for the most part, I am a long-term buy and hold investor, meaning that my portfolio has varied dramatically in market value over time. For example, the market valuation declined over 65% in the fall of 2008, and now we've gained 130% since the November lows. The market valuation was highest in March 2008, and lowest in November 2008. Also, the majority of my investments are held in registered accounts, meaning that I buy and sell equities rather than physical metal (gold, silver).

Brief history of investing path, e.g. how got started, etc.?

I started out very conservatively, holding bonds through the investment bubble of the late 90s. I was then a late arriver to technology investing, which was of course disastrous, and then began to research why I had become drawn into an investment bubble. I thus missed the real estate bubble, and believe that last year’s commodity blow-out was not a bubble.

In the background, my wife invested primarily in income trusts, and thus I am furious with Carney and Flaherty for blowing up Canadian small investors and forcing the western natural gas trusts in particular onto the international investment market (at depreciated values) at the expense of Canadian small investors. I'm single issue against the Conservative Party on their dismantling of the income trust program, and will never forget the betrayal of trust – as well as stupid and short-sighted policy – on that “single” issue. (Don't get me going!)

What were some of your best and worst investment moves?

Worst – investing in technology companies in the early 2000s. Best – shifting my portfolio to the precious metals sector in 2003.

What advice would you offer to other investors?

Look beneath the surface to secular trends (large trends that span decades). Study history to view these trends in perspective. Be aware that financial markets are undergoing a period of massive manipulation based on misconceived government interventions – almost all of which have been counterproductive. Understand why Federal Reserve policy is now of greater interest to the financial community than analysis of underlying economic fundamentals (the markets have become increasingly distorted by short-sighted and increasingly disastrous government and central bank policies, dating back in particular to the advent of the Greenspan era in 1987). Be wary of efforts at market timing. Invest based on underlying, long-term value against the backdrop of a macro environment of inflation, debt promotion and capital misallocation. For longer-term investors, give greater weight to fundamental value than to market price when making investment decisions. Seek the advice of wise and experienced professionals (I rely on Ed Bugos in Vancouver, Bill Fleckenstein in Seattle, John Doody – the Gold Stock Analyst, in Florida, and the Aden sisters in Costa Rica).

By the way, while I view government policy broadly as unbalanced and disastrous, I'm not a conspiracy theorist. It is simply that government is over-intervening to save the market from itself, which has never once worked in history, and the intervenors operate from a very short-sighted perspective, with no acknowledgement and/or awareness of the consequences of their actions.

I do also buy into the notion of a power shift away from the United States towards Asia, and this is due moreso to the departure of Americans from their long-term commitment to free market policy than to the inherent strength of Asian economies. In brief, Asians have been saving while Americans have been borrowing, and, as Warren Buffett illustrated in his classic “Squanderville” story (published in Fortune and other places), the long-term consequence is to shift wealth from borrowers to savers. This is what is now happening globally.

Finally, I view Canada as uniquely well-positioned due to the balance of our economy towards commodity production. However, I view our national Conservative Party leadership as largely blind to the implications of this reality, with the result that they are attacking small investors (through their anti-small investor income trust policy) and throwing money at declining industries (obviously but not only autos), rather than providing support to small investors and to investment in Canada’s capacity to lead the world in commodity production (I once read that we have more mining and mineral exploration companies in Canada than in the rest of the world combined, though I've never verified that statement by “counting”). That is, Canada has everything we need to be global leaders in the 21st century, but our elected officials are looking backwards rather than forwards.
_

The Perfectionists Psychotic

I want to walk again to 72nd street.

I wake up at 3:30 in the morning and make coffee and start working on my novels. I'm not going to waste this morning for all the tea in china. I get busy. But as the sun rises, and the early morning turns to day, I start getting tired, my eyes drooping. It is time for me to go back go bed again. I look at my clock...6:13am. I'll sleep until 8:30 and then go down stairs and get my breakfast before the Cafeteria closes. I crawl into bed.

I wake up at 9:20am. Breakfast is officially over at 9:00. Fuck! I plan to go walking to the station before jumping on the Way and meeting my appointment with my Psychologist. I get online and start writing again and before I know it, it's too late for me to walk to the train station on 72nd! How did let time slip by me like that? I'm staring amazed at the clock. I'll have to walk my walk on the way back home. I get up and head off to Dr. W's office.

Now get this. I have five dollars left and since they give me train passes whenever I go to my doctor's office I only want to spend two out of the five dollars. So I enter the 96th street station and go over to the token clerk and explain to her my predicament. With love in her fucking voice and attitude she points her nasty ass at the card machines against the wall. But I don't want to use those because they dispense silver dollars as change and I want cash. "I don't do two dollar metrocards here. That can only be done at the machines." Oh really. I walk off, heading towards the machines and insert my five, get my metro card and head downstairs for the trains. I reach the platform and the number three comes roaring into the station do I then realize that I walked off from the machine without taking my three dollars in silver dollar change. I just left the three dollars behind me that I wanted to keep badly. I shake my fucking mellon head and board the train.

I walk into the waiting area of the office and I see Dr. W walk past me into an office not hers. I nod to her but she doesn't know me from a box of sleeping pills, only seeing me one before. With her bulk she moves slowly and gracefully from place to place with an economy of energy. I go to the front desk and I'm signed in. Then the receptionist picks up the phone and calls her. Are you calling her in her office? I ask. "Yes." Well I just saw Dr. W. enter that office over there. I point. "Oh, okay have a seat." I nod and sit down.

It's now twenty minutes since I sat down and Dr. W. walks into the center of the waiting area, talking to several colleges before heading for the hallway leading to her office. I notice that the receptionist was too busy reading her magazine to notice Dr. W in front of her station or walking past when she was done. She just continued in her magazine. Another ten minutes and I was through. The last time we been through this I waited for an hour just to have Dr. W. walk past me and hop on the elevator to go home. I got up and accosted the receptionist again. She was just out here in front of you. Can you call her now and tell her that I've been sitting for a half hour?? "I asked if you wanted me to call her, you said no," the receptionist replied tersely, reaching over for the phone and dialing in the numbers. I smirk at her and walk off, heading for my seat. In another five minutes Dr. W. comes out, moving slowly with a slight limp, and calls my name. In a minute, I am sitting in her office.

"How do you feel?" Fine. "How has the season been treating you?" Okay I guess. "The season doesn't bring any feeling to the fore? You have nothing on your mind? "Nothing really. "How has your social life been?" Hmmmm, alright I guess. "Have you been getting out of your room lately?" Not really. I mean, for the SHOUT OUT and doctor's appointments. Little more than that. "I see. What do you feel about crowds, groups of people?" I hate them. I'd rather stay home. "Would you say, during this Spring season so far, have you gotten out much?" Little.

"I think you should seriously think about Lurvox. It's a drug that we can employ and see how it works on you," Dr. W says. She is large, so she breathes hard when she speaks. Why would I want to try another pill? "Because if you do well on this treatment for two months we can do away with your Wellbutrin and Lamictal." Hmmmm, two for one, huh? And what is it that you want me to think about? "Taking this medication." Wow, this was an easy choice. I didn't need a month to think about it. I'll do it doc. "You agree to using Lurvox?" Yeah, why not? "Here then," she reaches at the piles of paper on her desk. "You need to sign this." What is it doc? I look down at it and find that it looks like a release form. It explains basically that I know what I'm doing, my doctor and I discussed this, and that I am fully aware of the contraindications. Basically everything that we spoke about for the past twenty minutes. I agree and sign the paper. Dr W hands me the prescription, sits back in her chair and sighs tiredly. "Take care, Mr. Hobobob." Thanks. I walk off.

More drugs, huh? This one though is supposed to help me with my acute social anxiety. ASA. Who'd a guessed? I come back uptown and drop off one prescription and pick up the other, my Lipitor. The counter woman rang it up. "$192.00 please." I look at her, shocked. For my pills? "Yes, $192.00 please." Some thing is wrong, I tell her. I never paid for them before. She looks at the prescription then returns to the back of the pharmacy and is gone for awhile before returning, ringing up nothing, "Okay, everything is alright now. Your insurance was not in the charge. You have no copay." Thanks. I take my pills and leave. Then it dawns on me...at that price...if all of my pills are around that price, give or take a few dollars, what I would have on my windowsil is nearly $3,000.00 worth of medicine. Holy fuck!!!

I shake my head. There is just no way that I could afford to stay alive without my health insurance. When I thought that I could pay for my pills without insurance, on my little job...what was I fucking thinking? I would be lost in the sauce. I would be dying early boys and girls. My two years on the streets did enough damage to my organs...any longer and I would be in a pine box. I think I was just lucky. I get to survive for a couple of years more.

I come home, relieved to be home. The world outside felt like it was after me. I felt like my bad luck was catching up to me.

I lock the door. Leaving it outside.

Hobobob

MISSING

Dylan


My precious Dylan is missing since yesterday morning around 9 a.m. We were taking him to the vet on his collar and leash when he kicked free and ran. I'm so worried because he'll be trailing the leash and it could get caught or tangled on something. He was really in a panic, too.

I feel like this is my fault and I should have used a carrier, but we are used to taking all of our kitties out on their leashes and haven't had a problem before. Dylan hates the carrier, too, and when he's on the leash I can hold him and try to calm him. Hindsight is useless at this point.

I tried to sleep on the couch and listen for him at the back patio door. I kept thinking I heard scratching noises, but there was nothing there, and he wasn't there this morning either -- and it's been raining off and on since yesterday and most of the night. I just feel sick about it.

Anyway, we could use your positive thoughts and prayers for his safe return. I'm going to put in a Missing Pet Report with our Humane Society, and Dylan has a microchip for identification. I know he would have come home on his own if he could.

I'm still hopeful I'll be able to update this post with a positive report. In the meantime, though, it's hard to carry on as usual.

Have a happy weekend.

What are you up to this weekend? My cousin Jeremy and his girlfriend are visiting, so we have some little adventures planned. Hope you have a wonderful weekend, and here are a few great posts from around the web...

Wes Anderson's inspiration.

Vogue's June issue has a rad wedding shoot.

Ballerina spotting in New York!

Funny money.

One tank getaways for seven cities.

Polaroid photographers plead their case. (Go Porter!)

Reading rainbow.

Beautiful wedding dress.

Kate just opened a pretty etsy shop.

Four people squeeze into a genius 700-square-foot apartment.

Vintage sunglasses and shark pants!

Brooklyn-based Bamboo Bikes Studio has a weekend-long workshop where you build your own bike with bamboo, a renewable resource. How amazing would that be?

A sweet image of model Natalia Vodianova and her daughter.

The 10 best lobster shacks in Maine. Yummy.

Alex wrote about how "nice" is back. Agreed!

Plus, four videos:

Fifth graders rock.

New Jersey in the summer.

The Black Hole.

Paris + a rooftop + a song.

(Photo of Serge Gainsbourg)

Feeling Smitten...

My dolls, here's a weekly round-up from Smitten, my Glamour Magazine relationships blog...

Do you want to have a baby by a certain age?

What was your first word?

An adorable love tee.

Whose hand do you want to hold right now?

Bridesmaid dress horror stories.

What size bed do you have?

Who watches more TV: you or your man?

Reader's dilemma: "I'm awkward around my boyfriend's friends."

Help! What cheers you up when you're cranky?

High schools are outlawing hugging!

Do you and your boyfriend share a bank account?

Do you ever eat your boyfriend's food?

Sexy outfits--thoughts?

(Photo by UnterbaraClara via Smitten)

Mixed Residential Complex

I'm woozy.

Dr. W. increased my LYRICA a couple of milligrams. In ten minutes it made it hard for me to write emails in the morning. This stuff is supposed to mellow me out, cut the nerves, and damnit it does. I am probably the mellowest man on the Earth in ten minutes. I feel so good today, I pack up and out an hour early to walk from 98th st to 72nd. No an easy feat.

I run downstairs and notice that the cafeteria is still serving Breakfast/ Lunch. I stop and walk in, signing the form that I took a meal, and Snow White is sitting right there. "Hobobob! So good to see you. Don't leave! I need you to sign something!" I stand, cursing myself. I walk over to the kitchen window, and two knuckleheads are in there. This is what gets me about the people in the kitchen. They are all touched in the head. They really are. It's like they get them all for a slow farm.

One annoying thing about them is that their stupid. No, really. Breakfast/ Lunch is divided into meal plans, A, B and C. Each has different stuff in it. It says on the wall in the kitchen exactly what's supposed to be in each bag. Easy as that. There's no science to it. But these knuckleheads walk around in the kitchen asking for what you want. "Water? Potato Chips? Sandwich? If you say yes to something not in the meal plan they stop, THEN they refer to the meal plan on the wall and tell you that you can't have that.

Here's the problem. If you forget something they'll forget it. Case in point, today: this woman in the kitchen is walking about, asking me if I want this or that. I say yes to everything and she hands me my bag. What she missed, which is clearly on the meal plan on the wall, was my bottle of water. Dayum. I wanted water, and since stupid me forgot to check the bag I walked away without it.

While I'm dealing with saying yes to everything the kitchen woman asks, Snow White comes up alongside of me with her papers for me to sign. I am instantly confused Shit. It's early in the morning, I just got out of bed and now I'm asked to multi-task. I sign all of the forms, take my lunch, and head for the hills before something else intercepts and delays me.

I hit the bricks. The time is 9:10. I have a Ten O'clock appointment with Charliqua Lovebisquit. I worry that I would be late to hit the Way, but I want to take this walk. I really do. I march like a fucking soldier and made it to the 86th street station which is about half way to my destination. Should I soldier on or stop and run down the stairs, get on the Way, and get my ass to WECARE? Hmmm.

FUCK WECARE. I need exercise. I march on checking my watch. Time now 9:23am. I head downtown again, and make it to 72nd street. To my surprise it is no effort. It just took time. I think about it. With enough time, I could walk all the way to 42nd street. I looked at the time before hitting the Way, 9:39am.

The second that I get downstairs the 1 train roared in. I shot the rest of the way to WECARE like a guided missile, signing in at 10:07am. Then, get this: I wait until 10:50am before my name is called. Now what the fuck do they have me come in at 10:00am for, if they're going to make me wait to damn near 11:00am? As I follow Charliqua, she apologizes profusely for making me wait, but she was in a meeting. I nod...now I'm not so angry. We reach her cubicle and right away she goes into how wonderful Dr. A is. He is, isn't he? He must be a great doctor. That's why I go to him.

She doesn't even care that I didn't make the cardio appoint- ment. I am shocked. She starts to wrap up my case. She will have a determination for me in a week. And that was it. No shouting, no disappointment, no penalty. Just like that. I walk out of the building, still stunned either from dealing with her or the LYRICA.

I take the Way up to Starbucks and find it too crowded to catch a seat and get on the Internet. I head to the public library instead. I find OBSIDIAN and sit right behind him for about an hour and a half, without his knowing. Then I answered his email as to where I was to his surprise. I love to joke around.

We leave and head to Starbucks, where we do our thing until 10:00. Then I come home. Once again, heading down the block, I notice something. I pass a beaten down man, who walked somewhat like Quasimodo, wore baggy clothes, although clean, and was moving slowly down the street digging through the garbage. I enter into my building and press the button for the elevator. The elevator opens and what I can only describe is a thug comes out, dressed in leather and a wife beater shirt, walking with the practiced swagger. Following him was the one eyed whore that I met in the small bodega down the street. Tonight she doesn't stare at me in passing. I enter into the elevator and press my floor when just before the doors closed in steps in the guy who was outside going through the garbage cans. He presses the button for his floor.

I shake my head. I live with the dregs of society. I'm not saying all, but I am saying that my home is once again the projects, it's just in a better neighborhood.

And a much better building.

Hobobob