Ink & Paper

Friday, August 11, 2006





A sovereign thought, delivered to your door at 8:13 PM ~~ 0 bonsai trees

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Wednesday, January 11, 2006



The end of Ink & Paper has arrived. If you care to find out why, click here.

A sovereign thought, delivered to your door at 5:20 PM ~~ 0 bonsai trees

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Tuesday, January 10, 2006



I went to look at another dog today, this one a stray that had been collected by the Bylaw officer here in Beaumont.

It wasn't the dog for us. Too big, probably 90% German Sheperd male. Untrained on the leash, pulling me everywhere like I was a feather. Uncertain medical history. Timid around men, probably has been beaten. Not fixed.

That was what my mind said and I let my mind win out over my heart. It was the right decision not to adopt this one.

I felt like shit anyway.

A sovereign thought, delivered to your door at 9:57 PM ~~ 2 bonsai trees

shout out out out out out

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I think you should all read this post by Matt Snider.

A sovereign thought, delivered to your door at 9:54 PM ~~ 0 bonsai trees

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Monday, January 09, 2006



Coming soon to a computer near you....

Thanks to the grandmaster of nerding, the Glorious Mr. T, there should be some changes coming to Ink & Paper in the next few weeks. Stay tuned.

Ooooh. Tell your friends.

A sovereign thought, delivered to your door at 7:43 PM ~~ 2 bonsai trees

shout out out out out out

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I've never been to California. I think I may have been in Washington state once, but it may have been Montana or Idaho, and even then, it was only for running shoes and was maybe an hour in total. Got some nice Nikes though, made me grade 8 cool. White hi-tops with a bright orange swoosh.

It must be a hell of place, California. It certainly has an aura about it. I'm on this particular train of thought because, as I shuffle my way through life, I am amazed at how many songs have been written about California. The state ought to sign some kind of endorsement deal with any notable artist who writes a song about taking a highway drive through the land of sunshine, plastic surgery, and maxed-out credit cards.

Steinbeck wrote books that were drenched in California, perhaps one of the first mass portrayals of a California scene. Come a few decades later the world is California, via Hollywood and TV. You too can be California. In Flin Flon, Manitoba or Bangkok, Thailand.

The American west is perhaps one of the greatest mythical stories of modern times. The odd thing is that a when people were flooding across the plains of middle America, all along the Oregon Trail, they were heading to something. And now, in this instant-info era, we see the exporting of the California ideal, a high tech reversal of previous times.

I've often thought that a long road trip through the USA would be an eye-opening experience, especially by motorcycle. A sanitized, kids-in-bicycle-helmets version of The Motorcycle Diaries, one with Wal-Mart's and Starbucks. So often the image that we ingest from the US is only the sensational. You know, the latest serial killing, the political battles that tire us out, the biggest movie of the year, the kind of stuff that really doesn't represent the reality of life in America. A road trip, through the immense variety of sub-cultures that exist in America, might serve to paint a different picture of the elephant next door.

I suppose I would have to go to California, just to see what all the fuss is about. I could load the iPod full of California songs, see if they hold water. I could take a camera and take black and white photos of post card scenery, for surely it must exist somewhere. I suppose if I went to California, I would have to turn east and see Las Vegas. Seems like the thing to do.

I suppose I would have to listen to Merle Haggard and Willie Nelson as I drifted through Austin. Robert Johnson and Woody Guthrie as I rolled through the Deep South, across the Mason-Dixon line. Springsteen through Philadelphia and New Jersey and Dylan everywhere.

I think I would have to sit on a porch for a while, maybe take a picture of me next to another roadside attraction. Maybe detour up through Alaska, time and weather permitting. Stay for a night or two in Chicken.

I'm not sure the America I would be searching for exists. I'm not sure what kind of America I may be looking for, come to think of it. Maybe that is the best way to go about it, not searching for something in particular, instead just seeing what one would find when one gets there.

Och, itchy feet.

A sovereign thought, delivered to your door at 7:01 PM ~~ 2 bonsai trees

shout out out out out out

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Sunday, January 08, 2006



New j~shuffle playlist is available here.

A sovereign thought, delivered to your door at 11:25 AM ~~ 0 bonsai trees

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Juan Cole posted a comment from a journalist in Baghdad that illustrates differences between the reality on the gorund in Iraq and the rhetoric we hear on the six o'clock news. A quick read, but very informative.

A sovereign thought, delivered to your door at 10:50 AM ~~ 0 bonsai trees

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For those of you who may ever consider getting a puppy from a pet store, I have a little story for you, a story heard from a reliable source.

"Wife is considering getting a puppy for the kids for Xmas and does a lot of research into breeds, breeders, shelters, etc. Unbeknownst to her, Husband goes out the day before and buys a puppy from PJ's Pets (a pet chain store) for $1000.

Yep, $1000.

Puppy is "unwrapped" on Christmas morning. By Boxing Day morning the puppy is throwing up and dies later that day. Illness diagnosed as parvo virus, which you can read about here. Kids, presumably, are devastated.

PJ's refunds the money."

A refund, like a CD that doesn't work.

Don't ever, ever, buy a dog from a pet store in a mall. One shudders to think how many puppies die while living in a glass cage at some mall.

Och. Christ.

A sovereign thought, delivered to your door at 12:27 AM ~~ 0 bonsai trees

shout out out out out out

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Saturday, January 07, 2006



The Whitewashing of Ariel Sharon.

A sovereign thought, delivered to your door at 9:55 PM ~~ 0 bonsai trees

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Jay Hates People, Goes Shopping.

I don't think there is much need for a re-visiting of history here, so I'll cut to the chase.

CDs bought at Megatunes on Whyte, a store that doesn't cause me to hate people. That means they are knowledgeble and care about music. Go there.

1. Ridley Bent- BLAM
2. Corb Lund- Hair in my Eyes like a Highland Steer
3. Franz Ferdinand- You Could Have it So Much Better
4. Merle Haggard- Chicago Wind

The Merle Haggard disc is super protected with some encryption code, so iTunes won't even acknowledge it exists. Stupid Nashville.

Good album though. I still love you Merle.

I then bought The Crossing by Cormac McCarthy, which is book number two in his now-complete Border trilogy. Book number one was All the Pretty Horses, made into a movie that was quickly murdered by that thong-wearing boyscout Matt Damon. But it ought to be a good read.

Then I went to Zellers with Meg. I should mention that all of these purchases were made with gift certificates, either from the wedding or Xmas. Anyway, it has become apparent that Zellers is trying to follow in Wal-Mart's footsteps, at least in the customer service department. No I don't mean the greeters, thank Jevus.

It took us 15 goddamn minutes to get through the line at Zellers, who had graciously opened 3 of their 12 tills on a Saturday afternoon, something I commented on rather loudly at about the 3 minute mark. I can't entirely blame Zellers, there was that lady in line in front of us who was arguing about the cost of her cookies. "I think they are on sale for fifty cents less." Or so I heard from Megan. I flipped out at about the 7 minute mark and went to read National Geographic. Iceland always looks nice, looked a lot more attractive when I was wasting my life in Zellers.

Then I raged over to Canadian Tire. I bought some tools I don't know how to use and will no doubt maim myself with. But I didn't get to by them before asking one of the mouth breather 17 year olds to open one of the display cases so I could look at something.

Asked him a question or two. Sketchy, meth-addict answers. What is it with the Canadian Tire on Calgary Trail? The last time I was there the guy that was helping me was so pickled I ended up walking outta there with a buzz just from the cloud of booze wafting about. Now I end up with meth-boy who needs a car battery and some jumper cables attached to his mini-pills just to elicit some response beyond a head scratch and a grunt.

Whatever. Find my tools, go to pay. Now I have worked a lot of retail in my day, and even at my most bitter, I always at least managed a faked "have a good day" well-wish to the customer.

Not the case. The pregnancy-waiting-to-happen 16 year old running the till rings it all through, I think at a lower price (at least than the website advertises anyway) and hands me my worthless Canadian Tire money and bill without saying a thing.

Jay: "Well you have a great day."

Pregnant-to-be: "Uh, thanks."

Then I came home and watched two and half periods of the Oiler game before having a nap. I'm such an old man.

Dammit.

A sovereign thought, delivered to your door at 9:07 PM ~~ 0 bonsai trees

shout out out out out out

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Friday, January 06, 2006




December 4

Dear Wichita,

Anna showed up fashionably late for coffee at Hock's yesterday. She was wearing a Gore-tex jacket, her hair hidden under a trendy knitted hat. Her earphones were tucked inside the hat.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"What are you listening to?"

"Joni Mitchell, her Both Sides Now re-issue."

"Is that the one with the painting of her smoking on the cover?"

"Yea. It's a good album. Doesn't feel as old as it should."

We drank coffee and chatted about random things, music, news, the weather. Of course we talked about the weather.

She has bright, busy eyes. They flick around, watching people for split seconds and then moving off again. I found it kind of distracting at first, but she always looked me in the eye when I was saying something.

Her job was okay, her commute was decent, and the people she worked with didn't play too many games. She wanted to know more about Kansas, why I was way out west instead of, as she smilingly said it, "at home driving a combine."

"Not every one from Kansas drives a combine you know. Does everyone from Seattle listen to Nirvana?"

"I know I know."

"Sheesh. No I came out west for a change of scenery. I wasn't feeling like I fit it so well anymore. In Wichita I mean."

"Why not?"

"Ah, um. Well I wanted to get more into the arts scene, especially photography, and Wichita is a little red-neckish when it comes to that kinda thing." I think my eyes flicked.

She nodded, looking at me intently.

I shifted in my seat, looked out the window.


A sovereign thought, delivered to your door at 11:18 PM ~~ 1 bonsai trees

shout out out out out out

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