A List Of Thoughts and Recent Experiences

• I don’t enjoy eating anymore. I’ll eat, sometimes five times, seven times a day. I don’t enjoy it. Sometimes something surprises me and I enjoy it; last night it was a burrata and pea shoot mish-mash off a friend’s plate. I’m not picky about food at all, except for the octopus. Octopus meat doesn’t seem like it would be great, y’all. I’ll eat chicken meat so I don’t pass out, but I don’t need to go fucking bananas and start eating octopus meat: meat that can emit different colors of light, shape-shift, and change texture and color. Fuck everyone but those Greek fishermen for eating octopus. Thirty years ago, I watched a David Suzuki special on the CBC about an octopus lab, and I’ve never forgotten it. There was an octopus who would wait until the lab was closed for the night so she could crawl out of her tank. She would crawl across the lab, down a hall, into another room that held tanks of crabs. She ate exactly one crab a night. Left no mess. No one could figure out where the crabs were going. A camera was installed, and the octopus was caught eight-armed and beloved. I saw the footage, with my own eyes, on the CBC. Fuck that. They are THAT SMART AND ALIVE IN BAGS IN OUR FAVORITE RESTAURANTS. Anyhow, I don’t enjoy the taste of most foods anymore. I don’t know why. I’ve never tried octopus; it would be amazing if they were my one favorite tasty food.
  

• I start the engine on the 1992 Toyota 4Runner with my sixteen-year-old, Bea, in the passenger seat. I hear the weird sound as Bea, sounding very concerned, asks, “Why is an antenna coming out of the top of the hood?” I look over my shoulder, at Bea, and almost into my own eyes responding, “We needed those to listen to the radio. I forgot about antennas. What the fuck?”
  

• I tell Orlando about the antennas. He googles his first car and can’t see an antenna. I tell him maybe the cars are photographed while off and not running, so the antenna is down. Orlando remembers the long antenna’s ends were tied back to the cars. Do I remember pink ribbons on antennas for breast cancer awareness? A Sarah McLachlan song plays in my mind. It’s terrible. I owned three of her albums on CD. That’s the kind of CRTC impressionism Canada longs for (congrats, CRTC—Life IS a Highway) This is what you grew up with in Canada.  Northern Canada, where you need an antenna for your TV, your phone, and your walkie-talkie. And yes, I fucking morse coded outer space, and from a field in Edmonton, Alberta, I morse coded the aliens that I was weird, and it was really cold. And I couldn’t have done that without the antenna on my walkie-talkie.
  

• I have seen two ham radios in my life, and I got on them immediately. My Uncle Earle did not want me using his ham radio. My Uncle Norm was upset I was talking to boys on the radio when we went on a houseboating trip in British Columbia.
  

• I forget I have a body a lot. Just a floating head.
  

• The only podcast I made was with my friend Stephanie Vermuelen in 1990. I would give all the school gossip; I would fart into the mic; I would play clips of my favorite songs and ask Stephanie to explain what the song made her feel like. I would play audio from that week’s episode of FASHION FILE news about what was happening with Chanel, DIOR, and Canadian girls—Linda, Pamela, and Shalom.
  The episodes were one tape long in length.
  I recorded them on the Sony tape player my dad bought me when he lived in Newport Beach for a year. I had no way to play these tapes for anyone on a large scale.
  

• I was a high school DJ. We had a radio program at lunch. We could play music, and on days with live news, we would be the reporters over the intercom system.
  I got the day the OJ Simpson verdict was read.
  At 11amMST, in Edmonton, Alberta I told the entire school the verdict and then played this song:

  
  I firmly believe this is the favorite song of a murderer. I’ve written it into the film I’m directing next year. There will be many murders. Woman killer. We will all enjoy.

• What if WWW isn’t an acronym for the World Wide Web? 
  What if the true acronym for WWW is,

We Will W
(Double You)

The internet has doubled our lives.
We are in a constant split between internet relationship self and earthbound relationship self—living parallel but often opposing lives. Have children watched us purchase items? Are we paying with cash? Do we line up at the bank with our children each week? Are today's kids so disconnected from currency they think a phone or card is currency and valueless because it’s all replaceable cards and phones and invisible currency?

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