Thursday, May 24, 2018

Fewer keys now

The old house on Eakin was finally sold a couple of weeks ago. Took a bit of a bath on its initial asking price, but what can you do? The house had some issues and it was not in a desirable neighborhood, on a busy street, etc.

That's where I lived the longest. The first house my son came home to. He must have loved it because he did not want to sleep there. It was the scene of a lot of good and bad memories. Life happened there, and it's happening in the new place too.

No longer having a mortgage is a good thing, and we're down to one set of bills. Naturally that money moves to paying my son's caregiver this summer, a necessary expense.

Friday, May 11, 2018

I've got this disease I can't shake and I'm just rattling through life

The news that Scott Hutchinson of Frightened Rabbit succumbed to his demons and took his own life has struck me rather hard.

It’s not the same grief as when an icon you never met died, either suddenly or by natural causes. Frightened Rabbit were far from a household name, but they have a niche of very devoted supporters.

I’ve been following the band for over ten years, almost as long as they have been in existence. They had a good social media presence, you knew what they were working on, and where. Hutchinson wrote so eloquently and honestly about the human condition, flaws and all. He really put himself out there, to the point of a twitter meltdown a couple of years ago in which he asked us to not buy his records. The disease was speaking.

I saw them live in 2013 here, and the band delivered the goods as promised. It was a catharsis for both band and audience as we all got to yell scream and shout for a couple of hours.

The band came through town again in 2016, and tweeted that they were looking for a bar where they could watch the Leicester City soccer match. Several of us recommended a place.

The morning of the match I was there, along with other soccer fans, waiting for the game to statr. The band came in. I have to say there were very approachable, even when people wanted to give them their privacy, to let them watch the match in peace - they were very cool about it.

I got to talk to Scott briefly, to thank him for the good work he was doing. Handed over a couple of bottles of Irn-Bru, which they gratefully accepted. Grant cracked open a bottle right on the spot. They signed my CD, took some names for Monday’s guest list and that was it.

Did not get to go to the show, figured I’d catch them next time. You know how that goes.

See ‘em while you can, there may not be a next time.

Scott spoke openly about his condition, his depression and dark side and put them in his music.

Whatever he was listening to when he put out those two last, cryptic, tweets was lying to him so hard. The beast lies. Depression lies. As the band said today, he’s no longer in pain, may he have finally found some peace.

Saturday, May 5, 2018

The bridge I torched

So many seem to do everything to cling to their childhood. I think my problem (or one of) is that I wanted to distance myself as far away from it as possible.

Even after having a child, and the experience of autism, it's been so hard to reach and relate to it all.

Monday, April 9, 2018

I hope he passes by the 91 Club

The drollest man in history. The greatest musical satirist of all time. Tom Lehrer turns 90 today!

Sunday, April 8, 2018

That three throw closeout

Events this past week have brought my head space back twenty years in some ways. A lot of thinking where I was, where I went and why, and where I am now. Somewhere in all that is the how.

And it's such a horrible tragedy, that accident involving the hockey kids in Saskatchewan. Communities are devastated, social lives are centered around those junior leagues on the prairies. They were good kids, I met a few like them, back in the day.

Last night one of our new neighbors invited us over to their place for beers and an outdoor fire. We had a very good time, a beer too many in my case and walked two blocks home. I have not been able to do that for years, maybe since when we lived by the Crest Tavern, when it had real dartboards.

A British dart throwing legend died last week. I was not familiar with him, but my wife was, and friends of mine. I have a board, a good one, waiting to be set up on a bare wall downstairs. I just can't find my darts right now. So I've put a set on my Amazon list. I'm one click away.

There are a lot of things I'm missing right now: the address on a water bill, my concentration to be able to read a freaking book, let alone write anything coherent or meaningful. Some days, when you're under the stress of finally finding a summer caregiver for your son, or selling a house that has a nice personality but some real problems underneath, it's all you can do to be able to get up in the morning with not quite hangover but a bloated uneasy feeling in your gut. I'm so grateful and lucky to have the space to go to and try to get through it all.

Saturday, March 31, 2018

What could possibly go wrong?

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