Hello there …
This will be updated next week. In the meantime, due to a busier than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs week and weekend, this gem from 2011(written before many of you were born), is the lead in to next week’s blockbuster column.
Until then, have a week’s worth of nice days, look both ways when you cross your fingers, and quit pulling the goalie looking at pictures of Margot Robbie (or however she spells her name.
I Remain,
The Scarlet Claw
Traditionally, Sunday is the end of the week in most parts of the world, but most of us think of the end of the week as Friday. Friday is when the work stops and the ‘fun’ starts. You can park your ass in front of the flatscreen, dig in the garden, fire up the barbecue (or the space heater, depending on the weather), go out that night and hear some tunes and get faced in a bar with your friends, or blow off steam either playing or attending some sort of sports. Hmmm…sports….
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Other than making love, I don’t think there is a more intimate act than that which occurs when you hear a band or a solo artist that touches something inside of you that you didn’t know was there. An aural G-spot that connects to your brain, your heart, your soul and/or your loins and sends a signal that someone out there gets you. When you’re young this is a fairly frequent occurrence, but as you get older, it gets harder and harder to get a fix.
I have always been amused by self improvement books. The best of them are well intentioned, homily fueled screeds couched in common sense and written in the confident prose of an educated and caring individual who shares his or her triumph over a similar situation shared by the reader. They attempt to build confidence, offer advice, and lay out a step by step plan that, properly initiated and followed, will result in the reader becoming whatever kind of ‘better’ person they desire to be. On one hand, these books can give comfort and focus to a person, a leg up on coming to terms with their problems, and at least the hope of one day being free of whatever it is they think is holding them back. On the other hand, if the author’s blueprint for personal success doesn’t work for the reader, he or she might end up in a bell tower with a high powered rifle, a case of ammo, and a bottle of decent whiskey. Why do we put ourselves through all the self doubt and brutal self-assessment that feeds this ever growing self-help cottage industry? We all want to be great.
Every now and then I get cranky. Most of us do. Normally I just suffer in silence, not wanting to bitch and moan because I see enough of that online and in Letters to the Editor, but sometimes, you just have to spout off. The disturbing thing is that most of what makes me want to stick my head in a blender is well meaning and generally benign, but for some reason I can’t shake the feeling that there is an underlying layer of neediness and desperation in all its good intentions. Maybe it’s the weather, or maybe it’s the constant barrage of information I neither want, need, or request. Then there’s the never ending ‘improvements’ made to things that don’t need improving, and those who have ruined so many things I once loved in the name of commerce. Good Lord, I’m a curmudgeon!
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 