Speaking of tattoos, I only have one so far. It is a rather poorly done Maple Leaf I got while hitch-hiking across Canada in 1997. I thought it would be better if I got the tattoo while on the trip rather than afterwards, so I had it done in Fredericton, New Brunswick, not exactly known as a mecca for tattoo artists. Still, it comemmorates my trip, which is one of the greatest adventures I've ever been on, so I am happy with it. It's a maple leaf, with a cross left uncolored in the middle (Cross-Canada) and then a little Canadian flag underneath, but where the Maple Leaf should go there is instead a 97. I lam quite proud of that little touch.
Since then, I have wanted to get more tattoos (everyone does once they get their first), but of course the trick is to get one that you can live with for the rest of your life. I've had some ideas, but nothing really concrete yet. Nothing to do with poo, though, I'll tell you that much for sure.

Well, cancel the plea for help, I'm all done. And it turns out that I will use the story of my Chinese name in the sermon, so since I mentioned it last night, this is surely poovidential, and I will now tell you the tale of my Chinese name.
Three years exactly right now I went to China for the first time. One of the things I was doing was taking a Chinese class at a university there. My laoshi, teacher, asked me what my Chinese name was. I told her I didn't have one, so she looked at me, and decided that my name would be Mei De. Which literally means Beautiful Moral, and can also be rendered as Virtuous. I was quite flattered to receive such a great Chinese name and so I wear it with pride, often signing my name with the Chinese characters for Mei De. But the pride is tempered with a healthy humility, or at least, I try, as I remember that on my own I am not in the least virtuous. Only through the redemption of the cross can I truly call myself Mei De.
In fact, Mei De is the only name I use in China (plus the Tibetan name I gave myself, Tenzin, but it doesn't have the same sort of realness- some Tibetan friends DID give me a Tibetan name, but I liked Tenzin better), and so there is a whole country who only knows me by that name, and even here at the University of Alberta it is not all that unusual to be walking on campus and to hear someone shout out at me, "Mei De!" as many of the Chinese students here only know me by that name too.
Of the many tattoos I would like to get, my Chinese name is one. So many people get Chinese characters, though, most of whom will never ever go to China.

Here is a story about poolar bears trying to eat American Nucular Submarines. Probably high in protons, neutrons and electrons, but not protein, nutrition or electrolytes. I think the story is somewhat suspicious, and maybe some navy guys just doctored a photo for a laugh. Thanks to Jordon Cooper for linking to it originally.
See? This is how I waste my time when I should be finishing my sermon. Must go write . . .
Or . . . YOU could write my sermon for me! Good idea, hey? Yeah, just email me when you're done. Thanks, I'm going to go play now.

I don't know if it's the weather or what, but I am quite pleased with my poolificness lately- TWO poems, and tonight I finished up a story for my sermon on Sunday morning at the Mennonite church. It's a story about bears! What else, eh? I'm quite pleased with it, though I think I overwrote it considering I will be telling it, rather than having it appear in print somewhere. It's a retelling of the story of Sir Gawain and the Green Man. More or less- I used the Gawain story as a template, anyways. It's a fable about grace. The Goddess and I went to her favorite cafe (the Sugarbowl) to do a little writing, and I was surprised how easily it came there- she thinks it's a Creativity Node. I think she's onto something. Here at home I have a hard time sitting still long enough to write more than a sentence or two, and there the prose flowed like a mother lode at the creativity node! See? The effects are still with me!
Picked up the folks from the airpoort tonight, too. They had a great time in Mexico, of course. And Dad was quite pleased with the way his fence turned out, so that was a relief. If he wasn't, there's not a thing we could do about it- it's cemented in there for all time now.
And since everyone is quite pleased tonight, let me end by saying how pleased I am that my friend Lydia started her own blog tonight. Go check it out, she just started today but already there is a link to the Naked Cowboy, so it's off to a good start, I guess . . . I put the link over on the left under Chrysostoma for now- we all have so many nicknames and pseudonyms it's hard to know which one to use. I haven't even told you about my Chinese name yet . . .
Wo de mingzi jiao Mei De! Ni jiao shenme mingzi? Renshi ni hen gao xin!

Here is a poem I started a while back, but was never able to finish. I'm not in the habit of poosting unfinished business, but I wanted to put it up before Finding Nemo comes out tomorrow- just to avoid any accusations of possible plagiarism or idea stealing. I don't know if they'll use any of the same ideas I do here or not. Anyways, enjoy! I call it . . . Finding Nemo! No wait, it's called The Sea Serpent. No, that's dumb too. I call it Poem #26.9, version 1.0

I met a sea serpent who lived in a tree
I said, "You shouldn't be there, you belong in the sea!"
"I know," said the serpent, "It's really not fair
"I was born in the sea but I hate it down there
"It's cold and it's dark and salty and wet
"And I ran up a very large gambling debt
"I only went one time to the race track
"But I bet all I had on a sea-horse named Jack
"Jack lost the race and I couldn't pay
"So I borrowed some cash for a few days
"But those loan sharks wouldn't leave me alone
"I have no knees they can break so they want my backbone
"That's when I did a very dumb thing
"I formed a counterfeit sand-dollar ring
"And paid the sharks off with the fake clams
"So they put a hit on me and I went on the lam
"Killer whales were hired and were right on my tail
"I turned myself in and the cops put me in jail
"But the mob is an octopus, arms everywhere
"They have informants and agents all over down there
"The scum of the sea, full of jelly and slime
"Smoking their seaweed and doing their time
"Moray eels, manta rays and my old enemy
"That squirmy, no good no-faced sea anemone
"I wasn't safe there with a price on my head
"If I turned my back for a second I'd be dead
"So I bribed the guards to let me go free
"I gave them solid goldfish as part of their fee
"The first chance I got I dropped out of my school
"And fled to this forest where it's dry and it's cool."
So that's why the sea serpent lives in a tree
Sounds kinda fishy if you ask me!

There! All it took was for me to put it out there for all to read and I had to finish it. Turned out alright- not poofect, but it'll do. I know- it has nothing to do with bears or poo. But I hope you can still derive some iota of enjoyment from it.

And any day I can hear freshly spawned Metallica music is automatically a fine day. Partly because such days are so rare. Click on this banner to go to their site to watch the brand new St. Anger video, shot at San Quentin State Penitentiary.



St. Anger 'round my neck . . .

Turns out Rowan is leaving these shores for greater things. In fact he'll be joining my other old high school friend Jason in London for a while before moving to Spain. I knew this was happening and yet I didn't realize it would be so soon- tonight was the last time I'll see him for who knows how long. He's leaving on Sunday. His Mom had me over for dinner. His Mom is a real sweetie, someone I consider a friend in her own right. In fact, we went just the two of us, sans Rowan, to see Saving Private Ryan back when it came out. Tonight after supper we watched another movie of high calibre, The Hot Chick. Actually, I was pretty sure that it would be a 5 Poo film, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be so I only give it 3 Poos.
Anyways, Homie Bear would like to wish Rowan the best of times as he goes off to chase his dreams. Finally you can answer your age old question, "What about in France?"
And Jay, keep an eye out for him, will you? I know his Mom would appreciate it.

Today is a significant day for two reasons: first, it is Lydia's birthday, so a very happy birthday to Lydia! Poo! Woo hoo!
And second, it is the 50th anniversary of the First Ascent of Mount Everest, or Chomolungma as it is called in Tibetan (which means Mother Goddess of the World- it is also called Sagarmatha by the Nepalis). MSNBC news has a few articles on Everest related stuff to mark the day. And in case you're new, here is a link to an entry I made a few weeks ago on the 1996 Everest disaster.
Now I will tell you about the legendary Willi Unsoeld, a charismatic imp of a man who was part of the first American expedition to summit Everest, forty years ago in 1963. He and Tom Hornbein were, if I recall correctly, the first climbers to conquer the more difficult West Ridge. And they were the first Americans to get to the top. Laurence Leamer writes in his biography of Unsoeld, Ascent, of their time on the summit:

Willi and Tom did not try to talk. They were full of an understanding beyond understanding. They turned off the oxygen and stood looking down on the world. Within the beauty of the moment they felt loneliness. Within the roar of the wind they felt silence. Within the glory they felt fear, not for their lives, but for the unknowns that weighed down on them. Within the triumph, they felt disappointment that this, only this, was Everest, the summit of their dreams. They knew that there were higher summits still if they could only see them.

The climb cost Willi his toes, which froze solid and had to be amputated. In fact, mountains would claim his life and the life of his daughter as well. He named his daughter Nanda Devi, after the Hindu goddess of joy. In 1976 they decided to climb Nanda Devi the mountain, a Himalayan peak in India that stands at 25,645 feet. Failing to properly acclimatize to the altitude, Nanda Devi Unsoeld died on her namesake mountain. Willi died a few years later in an avalanche on Mt. Rainier.
Kind of depressing, eh? But they died living the life they chose, doing what they loved. There are worse fates.
You can read more in Nanda Devi: The Tragic Expedition, written by expedition member John Roskelley.

I got tooken out to the ballgame tonight. Alex and Michelle had some tickets so me and Room Mate Mike came along. Nice night for it, anyways. The highlights of the game were when the sprinkler system came on unexpectedly, soaking a few of the New Orleans players and officials, and the repeated playing of Duran Duran's Hungry Like A Wolf. We sang many doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo do do's. Except Mike didn't. Maybe he was still mad about sitting on the bird poo. But it was dry and old so who cares? Umm, not really sure who won because we left early. Probably Poo Orleans though, they were winning.
Edmonton sure is a nice city when the greenery starts to make itself known. The view from Telus Field, which sits kind of low in the River Valley, looks up at the Legislative Building, and the High Level Bridge, and there are layers of trees everywhere. Very nice.
My first major league game was in Denver in 2001. Yup. Never been to an NFL game, and I don't care if I never go to an NBA game.
Last year I went to a Yankees game at Yankee Stadium in the Bronx. That was pretty cool, but I had to leave that one early too in order to get to the KoRn Untouchables CD release theater broadcast thing. Which was cool but it was frustrating because the broadcast was emanating from New York, only I had no idea where (it was a secret) so I had to settle for the theater broadcast. But it was still cool- we got to go straight to the CD store and get the CD at midnight, and we all got a free t-shirt and poosters for being there.
SOOOO much to do in New York. I think I should go back there.

There seems to be a contradictory systemic anomaly in Blogger right now, resulting in a cascading effect negating earlier, more perfect poosts.
But now I see the problem has resolved itself, preventing an escalating probability of disaster.

It's been a while since I poosted a link to some internet weirdness, so here you go: I like the moon! Brought to you by some . . . things.

Staying at my folks' place is a nice change, but there is something to be said about sleeping in your own bed, pooing in your own toilet, and browsing with your own Internet Favorites. Yup, back home today. And all I really have right now is a special message for my sister, if she happens to read this before Thursday. Go to this link, Diney, and you will see an article about Veracruz that appeared in this week's Vue Weekly. In case it doesn't work, just go here and go to the Front tab on the menu to the left, and click on the bottom story, Veracruz Vindicated. Kind of a bland article, to be honest, but Veracruz is where my sister lived for a few months, (and where she and my parents might have gone this weekend, for all I know) and we went there when I visited her and had a pretty good time- the Aquarium is amazing. Aside from Bears, I am also a huge fan of Sea Turtles, and there were some majestic ones there. We also went to an old Spanish fortress/prison, and my sister did admirably, translating the gist of what the tour guide said so I could appreciate it too. And the family my sister lived with when she was there are pretty great people. She should blog about her experiences when she lived in Veracruz . . .

Fence = finished. I'm almost finished myself. It sure is hot out there. The lack of blogging has been because the fence has taken over my life. But no more.
Three days it took, but it looks good if I do say so myself. I hope my Dad likes it- he's in Mexico as you may recall. Mostly it was just me and my Dad's next door neighbour building this fence for Dad's yard and the neighbour's yard, so quite a large task, but today neighbour had his sons helping a bit too. And a little grandson who thought it was absolutely hilarious to pick up the hose when we weren't looking and spray us- it was quite refreshing actually, so I didn't mind, and neither did his Grandpa. His Dad did though, and I had to stifle my laughter when the little guy would sneak up on him and soak his ass.
Went to the Gathering tonight. We had a guest speaker who is the pastor from another local church. The deal was, he'd speak at our church if one of us would speak at his church. The one of us was me, and I was told by Gotthammer Mike that this would be July 1st. So today as I am speaking to this pastor guy, he asks me if I'm all ready for next week. June 1st.
After we sorted out the confusion, and determined that I had been erroneously informed, I assured him I would be ready for next week. I think I will preach on the impoortance of getting dates and times correct.

Okay, as promised, a bit of a return to the more light-hearted and fun stuff you have come to expect from Pooing in the Woods. I wrote you a pooem. Except I see I didn't really include a reference to poo. So it is more of a poem. Oh well, enjoy anyway.

Homie and the Witch
There was a magic wizard bear who knew a lot of spells
He cast them in his castle in the woods by where he dwells
The spells were simple harmless stuff that bears appreciate
Berry creeks and salmon trees and more time to hibernate
But then an evil witch queen came and told the bear to exit
She had come to rule the woods and maybe even hex it
The wizard bear was sad and cried "Oh my, oh my, oh me!"
He went to the cave of his friend who was a bear named Homie
Homie took one look at him and said "Hey whatsa matter?
You look so sad and lonely (although you do look somewhat fatter)"
"An evil witch queen came and took away my castle
I'd try to get it back from her but it will be a hassle"
Homie said "Do not fear, I will get it back
I'll just plan a special sneaky slick surprise attack!"
So Homie went to the castle dressed up as a crone
The witch queen let her in since she thought he was her clone
"So good to see you dear, come on in and eat
I just cooked up some eye of newt for a special treat!"
Homie waited for the queen to gobble and to guzzle
Before he took off his mask and revealed his mighty muzzle
The queen was shocked and scared but she waved her magic wand
And some frightful monsters appeared from the Great Beyond
Homie fought and crushed and smashed each and every demon
And ate the evil witch queen who went down his throat still screamin'
And so the magic wizard bear got his castle back
And conjured Homie an extra special magic Berry Snack!

Sometime between the time I wrote last night's poost and the time I woke up this morning, I developed some kind of crazy intense pain in my left elbow- I think I may have slept on it all night bent too far or something. I can hardly move it and it's all red and feels kind of spongey. I hope it gets better by tomorrow because I am helping my Dad's neighbour build a fence, since my Dad is in Mexico at the moment. It's hard to hold a posthole digger with only one working arm.

Got some good news- my internet seems to be back to normal, though I am now scared of moving my laptop so much as an inch, since it turns out the pooblem was my dongle. And uhhh . . . there are just too many jokes to make from that last sentence, so just to clarify, a dongle is the absurdly delicate cord that plugs into your laptop network card to connect to the internet. A while back it got damaged by certian unsavory individuals, and I thought I had repaired it but it just needed some minor adjustments. Good thing I didn't uninstall everything and start from scratch like I was about to. And it forced me to backup all my files, which we all know I would never have gotten around to otherwise. So, soon enough Pooing in the Woods will resume to a more normal poosting schedule, just as soon as I can think of things to write about. Looking back over the past little while I see how serious I've been here lately- what's that all about? You would think I am some sort of literati or something. But do not fear, I am just a humble bear trying to make his way in the woods, without pooing on anything. And trying not to let his dongle cause him any trouble.

Lydia was right- the Matrix Reloaded kicks ass! Rowan and I went to see it yesterday and the fact that we were able to hook up at all, well, it had to have been fate, or some sort of Matrix thing. Read this email I got from him yesterday (which I just got today because my internet still doesn't work at home):

I called you about 5 minutes ago then went to the computer to email you about it, and lo and behold you've emailed me! Great minds think alike. Please don't be watching it yet. I don't want it to be too late. Please call. Please please. C'mon man. MIND LINK MIND LINK. Reach out with your Buddhist mindfulness and sense my thoughts. We are ONE MIND. ONE MIND seeking the Matrix. C'mon ol' boy, check that email. Check that phone. And DON'T already be watching the movie. Please please.

So anyways, I did get a hold of him and we made plans to meet, and when I drove to the theater I sorta took a wrong turn, and there was a pedestrian trying to jaywalk in front of me, and I was pretending I didn't see him so I wouldn't have to stop for him, and it was Rowan! Yay! So I pulled over, he hopped in, and we entered the Matrix. Kick ass. Didn't totally get it, but it was great. I think that movie deserves 1/4 Poo out of 5, the quarter poo for being somewhat confusing and thereby necessitating that I see it three or four more times.
Rage Against The Machine once again supplied the credits song- Calm Like A Bomb. For the first movie it was Wake Up. So. . . what will the song be for Revolutions? Freedom? Hopefully not Bullet to the Head, unless the bullet in question would be in Agent Smith's head, and not Neo's.
Oh yeah, and the cineplex industry gets 4 Poos out of Five for making us sit through twenty minutes of commercials and trailers before the movie- I don't mind trailers, but twenty minutes is going a little far, and since I am paying to be there I don't need to see ads for cars and colas, thanks very much.

And speaking of the Second Coming, I was introduced today to an author/painter from Vanpoover who does some amazing work, which apparently draws at least some influence from Yeats: Nick Bantock. Check out his site- or even better buy one of his books. Yesterday as the Goddess and I were walking downtown, we poked our heads into a local bookstore and she saw that this guy who I never heard of, but who she adored, would be here tomorrow (tonight) so we made plans to come hear him do a reading. It was really cool- he's a real down-to-earth guy, quite funny. But his books are so amazing- they are postcards and letters (actual letters stuck inside the envelope that you pull out and read) with this amazing artwork and a fantastical/ metaphysical storyline. Since I have only found out about him I don't really know much more than that, but seriously- it's very unique.

Just three weeks until the Patron Saint of Anger rears his ugly head . . .

"And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"

Not to sully my favorite poem (Not pooem) in the world by seeming to imply that Yeats was referring to Metallica . . . I just really like that line, and I really like Metallica.

Woke up this morning at 4:15 to drive the folks to the airport. I don't mind- my Mom has driven me to the airport times without number, at all hours of day and night. And I just came home and slept in till I was good and ready. I'm at home using my own crapooter, so I still have to keep this short. Some sad news you may have heard by now- June Carter Cash has passed away. Poor Johnny, I bet he's just devastated. Read Cash if you get a chance- amazing book. It's his newest autobiography (I think he has three- two for sure- in fact now I can't recall if his newest one is called Cash or Man in Black. Read 'em both.)
And on the total other end of the musical spectrum, I went to a play about boy bands today- Boy Groove. It was sooo funny. If you live here in Edmonton go see it this week. You guys know me, you know I don't really care for boy bands, but my friend the Goddess loves them, and we both enjoyed the play immensely- it was hilarious but not mean-spirited. It even had a thinly veiled Eminem-type character, and he gets his ass kicked by the gay one in a scene that avoided the easy jokes and almost seemed believable.
We're really lucky to have such a vibrant theater scene in Edmonton- a northern Alberta blue-collare oil/farm town. Both this play and the play we went to last week were written by local playwrights.

So I spent all day backing up my hard drive onto CD-R, and then did a system restore, and now I can occasionally get into my email, but it is still touch and go. Something is still all pooed up. Dell doesn't recommend reinstalling Windows XP, since you lose all the software and files they added on top of that, and I'm a little hesitant to go that far anyways. Everything works fine except my browser. RRRRrrrrggghhh. Well, my parents are going to Mexico to visit the sister, and they need me to watch their cats, so I will try and poost some more substantive stuff a little later from their compooter.

So I typed out a litany of my internet woes and of course was unable to poost them anyways. Ah well- like you need to care. I'm listening to the new Marilyn Manson for the first time right now- it's pretty good. The Golden Age of Grotesque. I also bought that Evanescence CD today too. I was in a self-indulgent mood. I went to Anger Management to research (Yes, I went to an Adam Sandler movie to do some research) for an article I want to write, and I was the only one in the theater who wasn't buying a ticket to the Matrix. Never fear, I will be seeing that movie very shortly. Last night Trev and I went and saw X2. Great movie. I loved it. Wolverine kicks so much ass. Umm, and that's about it with my life lately. Riveting, I know. Anyways, gotta keep this short cause my compooter still all wonky.

Internet's acting kind of pooey lately- not sure what the problem is as it says everything's flowing along at a healthy 3.2 Mbps. Might be something wrong with my compooter. I hope not- I keep my virus scanner updated and try not to download any unknown stuff, but anyways, while I figure out what's going on poosting will be somewhat sporadic- I had to rewrite yesterday's Everest entry after I lost it. That's not fun. Even poosting this has turned out to be a hassle.

As you may know, this month marks the 50th anniversary of the First Ascent of Mt. Everest. Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay are credited with the First Ascent, though there is a chance that Mallory made the summit before perishing. When they found his body in 1999, hs cameras were not among his remains. At any rate, Hillary and Tenzing made it down alive, and thus they are given the nod for being the first to attain the summit of the world's tallest mountain. When I was in Tibet I didn't have the opportunity to visit Everest, which is fine because it gives me another reason to go back there some day, but I did see the unmistakeable massif from the plane. Quite the sight.
On May 10, 1996, eight climbers died in a single night on Everest. Jon Krakauer wrote the defintive account of this incident in Into Thin Air. I highly recommend this book if you haven't read it- even if you have no interest in mountaineering, it is an incredible story- Krakauer was there on assignment with Outside Magazine and writes from first-hand experience.
Aside from Into Thin Air there has been quite a number of other books written by people who survived the storm, as well as two movies- the IMAX movie and a dramatized version of Into Thin Air. I recommend the IMAX movie, which is available on video, but not the adaptation. As far as the other books go, I think I have five of them in my personal library. This weekend I read Beck Weathers' account, Left For Dead,. He really was left for dead high up in the Death Zone. But miraculously he revived himself after lying in the snow unconscious (maybe even clinically dead) for some hours and made his way back to Camp IV, even though he was completely blind and his hands were frozen solid (and later had to be amputated). He was left to his own devices and so spent the rest of the night in a tent with the flap open. In the high-altitude confusion no one really knew what was going on. The next day they brought him down to Camp I and then he was airlifted out by helicopter- the highest helicopter rescue ever, and somewhat miraculous itself. Anyways, his book primarily talks about the depression that led Weathers to find his escape in climbing, and the effect his near-death experience had on him and his family.
Anatoli Boukreev was the guide who was somewhat villified in Into Thin Air for his seemingly selfish behaviour, and The Climb is his response. In it he tells his side of the story, how he went out three times and rescued three of his clients in what was actually one of the more amazing rescues in mountaineering history. Boukreev died on Annapurna in 1997.
Lene Gammelgard wrote Climbing High, and is notable because hers is the only account written from a female's perspective that I have read so far.
Tenzing Norgay's son Jamling Tenzing Norgay wrote Touching My Father's Soul, and is defintiely worth a read, as it is written from a Sherpa's point of view, and has many interesting tidbits on Tibetan Buddhism as well.
Finally, I also have David Breashears' book (he was the one who did the IMAX film) but since the recently-married Stevey accidentally stole it from me many months ago, I have never been able to read it
You can get all of these books at a used or independent bookstore near you.

Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers- I think Tammy may be the only one, but if there are more out there reading the Poo, let me know! For Mother's Day my Dad and I took my Mom out for lunch. Then we went back to their place where my Dad and I tried to do some work on my car, but didn't really accomplish anything. I had to get over to the Gathering early because I got this important email from Craig, in big bold letters:

Meeting at the Gathering on May 25th at 4:00 p.m. Sunday afternoon

So I show up there and no one else is there. What the . . ? Maybe I misread the time, but I disctinctly remembered a 4:00 in the email- I even double-checked before going over to the folks' place. Maybe it was a typoo and it was 5:00. So I went to the Petro-Can and got a slurpee and a paper and waited. No one came at 5 either but by then it was almost church time anyways so I just waited till the service. The answer to the mystery, of course, is that today is not May 25th and Homie Bear is a dum-dum.

A Tale of Two Weddings
It was the best of times, it wasn't the pooest of times. But it was a good day. I got up and zoomed over to the east side for Coralee's wedding, then had lunch with my newly married ex-room mate Matt and hs wife. Then I had to jet over to my part of town for Stevey's wedding- it was quite fun as the groomsmen and the groom entered to Austin Powers music and high-fived pretty much everyone in the church. After that I had to cruise over to the west end to my church to do some singing (more on that in next poost). And after that I had to go back to Stevey's reception- I decidded it was just too much to try and make it to Coralee's, which I know is bad since I said I'd be there, but I tried to send a proxy. So anyways, it was a sort of crazy day. But fun. The reception was alright. When I got there I saw Rod, an old friend, and he said "Hi Nathan!" And I said hi too. Then a little boy about 8 says to me, "What's your name?"
I said "Nathan! What's yours?"
"Nathan."
"No it's not!"
"Yes it is."
"Oh yeah? Well let me see your driver's license."
"I don't have a driver's license."
"You don't? How do you get around?"
At that the boy pointed to his Dad and said, "He drives me." So I made a new friend named Nathan. I asked him how he knew Steve.
"I dunno."
"You're his cousin!" His Dad informed him.
Sao I said, "Yeah, I don't know too much about this Steve guy myself- he always comes to my house and takes my money. I don't know why I let him do that."
But on a more serious note, later on this guy came into the church, a Newfoundlander who had come out west for a job, got here and didn't get the job, called home and found out his parents had died- killed by a drunk-driver. So he started hitch-hiking home and someone dropped him off at the church. Now, this sounds like a con, right? Guys like him show up at churches all the time with a sob story, but all he wanted was a ride to the outskirts of town- no money, no shelter. He was clean-cut and polite, though distraught. So Rod gave him some food, and then offered to drive him to the highway. I asked Rod if I could come with, and with my best bullshit detectors I determined his story was factual. So I wrote him out some pertinent instructions for hitch-hiking, trouble spots, little tricks, that sort of thing, and we gave him a little pocket money and sent him on his way. Poor guy. I'll be praying for him- he has a long trip ahead of him.

But the highlight of yesterday was joining Seven Devil Fix for the recording of some gang vocals for the studio version of Skeleton Army (the heaviest poo you'll hear this year). The part at the end where it goes "Cut me down and there's another just like me!" We all just yelled and growled and snarled. So much fun. Yup, so I'm a big rock star now. I got to listen to some of the tracks- I couldn't believe how good they sounded. Wow. The CD should be ready by the end of July or so, I'll keep you poosted.

Wow I've had a lot of caffeine today. Caffeine doesn't really get me all shaky and buzzed, but it does set my brain-waves to firing, so that I can pretty much flush any hope of getting sleep tonight down the toilet to join all the other poos. Trev came over and we went for wings, and there we had Coke, and then I went out for supper with the Goddess, and had iced tea, and after that we went for coffee (I hate coffee actually, so I had tea). I heard something about caffeine having a 7 hour half-life in your body, so that after seven hours, your body will have processed half the caffeine you ingested, and then it will take another 7 hours for half of what's left, and so on. I don't know if that's true, but it sounds right- I generally try to avoid caffeine after 6:00 if I need to get sleep. I don't need to get up too early tomorrow, though there is a really great gear sale on at a local Camping store in the morning. Oh yeah and then I have Two Weddings to go to- Orthanc and Barad-dur. Ah well- I know the cure for nights like this- a good book, some good tunes playing softly in my stereo (Metallica's Load) and my writing pad nearby in case inspiration strikes.

I wish I could say "Look out! Here comes the Spider-Man!" in Chinese. But I can't, so here is a Chinese Spider-Man cartoon. Where he catches a thief just like a fly. And the Green Goblin makes an appearance too, for some reason. Anyone out there that can translate for us? All I caught was when Spidey fooled the girl and she said zai nar- where? Probably breaking all sorts of copyright laws, but the Chinese generally don't give a poo about those.

So the Wilds pulled it off. Bye bye Vanpoover, and though I am sad that there will not be an all-Canada Cup final, Minnesota pretty much deserved to win that series. The Canucks played awful for significant stretches of this series. I hope Katie Kenobi from Wisconsin is happy, cause I know Desolation Sarah who lives in Minnesota doesn't care at all. However, the fans in Minnesota are pretty crazy and if there is any team in the States that combines the small-marketness and the feverish love of hockey that we have here in Edmonton, it's them. Well, I will throw my support behind the Wilds for the Western Conference final, as I still can not stomach the thought of a Walt Disney-themed Stanley Cup final. And here's to Ottawa sipping from the Cup in a few more weeks. Go Sens!
And while I'm throwing in gratuitous links to my blogging friends, make sure you go check out Blu's new redesign- I dunno where he found the time to do it seeing as how his house was flooded last week and oh yeah he's recording a Seven Devil Fix CD right now (YAAAAYYY!!!!!!!- but more on that later). When you're there check out the Gathering VR, which is a very cool 360 degree (Does anyone know how to make that degree symbol so I don't have to type it out everytime?) shot of our church.

You know that sound that submarines make in all the movies? That pinging sound? I think it's from the sonar. I thought I heard that today, outside my window. So I looked outside, very excited to see a submarine on my own street. But sadly, there were no submarines, or even any boats. Instead, there was a little boy, about nine or so, in his pyjamas standing in my flower bed. Though not as exciting as a submarine, I still thought this was very interesting and I thought I would go outside and say hi. He had an armfull of pine cones, and was gazing fixedly at the water dripping from the eaves on my house. "Hi there!" I said. The little boy looked at me, and said "Bah!" and turned back to the waterdrip. It was then that I thought he was likely an autistic child with a water fixation, and since it is still quite cold out I decided I better get him a sweater and try to find his home. Wisely, the boy was scared of me and started to run away from me, and I was now very unsure what to do- follow him to make sure he got home okay? I didn't want to totally terrify him by running after him. Luckily his Mom came looking for him and so I introduced myself, and she confirmed my theories. So now I know where they live if it happens again.
I still don't know what that submarine sound was though- maybe it was a top secret new Urban Submarine with Secret Cloaking Capabilities and it is even now spying on me and sending back reports to CSIS. If I catch it I'm going to steal one of its torpoodoes.

Good news for Neal Stephenson fans (The Diamond Age, Snow Crash, Cryptonomicon)- his new book will be out in September. I got an email today from an author update mailing list, so I almost deleted it thinking it was spam (I don't remember half the poo I sign up for) but I saw Neal Stephenson in the subject line just in time. So here is the link for the Baroque Cycle. Or maybe it's called Quicksilver, it's not exactly clear. Quicksilver is a pretty generic title, though, I'd go with the Baroque Cycle if I was him.
And, I finally finished The Arctic Grail. Quite a book. My Dad, who originally got me into Pierre Berton in the first place by lending me Klondike (best book ever, read it today!) he told me Arctic Grail was a little dry. And though at over 630 pages, there are certainly some dry parts, I actually found it to be thoroughly fascinating and entertaining. Can you name me the first person to reach the North Pole? Most people can tell you Amundsen was the first to the South Pole, but who got to the North Pole is a little more cloudy. Some chicanery was involved.

The Minnesota Wild just won't lie down. Crazy. You know what's great about Canada and playoffs time? All your buddies are watching the games, even though the Oilers are out of it a long time ago. Trev called when the Canucks were down 2-0, and we discussed the game a bit, expositing on exactly what the Canucks had to do to get back in the game. I informed him that Mike called a Vancouver win (he correctly predicted the OT win and game-winning goal by Jovanovski in game 4) and reassured by this knowledge, he hung up. A little while later the Wild scored again, with about ten minutes to go in the third, and the phone rang. I don't have call display. but I knew who it was. I picked up, said, "I bet you want to talk to Mike," and Trev said, "Yeah, put Mike on." The Wild won 5-1 (after winning 7-2 the other night) and forced the decisive 7th game. Vanpoover better get it together if we want to have that all-Canada final.

Time for another couple of quotes from Pierre Berton's The Arctic Grail:

Nansen had learned the art of patience from the Eskimos. He liked to tell the story of one group of natives who had traveled up a fiord seeking grass for hay. When they arrived at the field and found the grass too short to cut, they simply sat down and waited for it to grow.

When a French scientist asked what Andree would do if his balloon collapsed in the water before he had time to assemble his boat, Andree replied with one word: "Drown."

Remember yesterday when I said it stopped snowing? I was wrong. Well, it;s more like snowrain today- you remember what we call that right? Poosnow!

Aside from Metal Monday Homie Bear also enjoys some high culture, and tonight I went to a play with Goddess. The play was called That Darn Plot and it was really great. Hilarious. It's about a playwright writing a play, so Goddess really liked it because she is just putting the finishing touches on her own play. I will now begin working on a new blog about a blogger trying to write a blog. I'll call it The Lord of the Rings. Anyways, we also went to a used bookstore and picked up some Chronicles of Narnia. Can you believe I have never read any of these books? Well, now I have books 2, 5 and 6 so I still can't! That's okay, I'm still working on The Arctic Grail and then Gotthammer Mike kindly gave me another book (the way to a bear's heart is through his stomach, but also through his umm, reading eyes) about retrieving sunken ships so I have enought to keep me busy till I track down Book 1 of Narnia. I also need to find more of those Armored Poolar Bear books, those are great. If I ever write a play it will definitely feature poolar bears in some way. I think they should be firemen or truckers or something. Yeah- truckin poolar bears who stop for tea and listen to opera. When they're not busy cultivating mice and fish. Or doing scholarly research into ancient tribal religions. Oh oh oh- and one of them will discover a lost tribe that worshipped poolar bears and this will lead them on a quest to rediscover their Ancient and Mythic Past as deities over the human race. That's where the conflict will come in- the more level-headed bears will try and dissuade the bad bears from attempting to reestablish this Cult of Nanook. Yeah, it's all coming together. I think I'll call it "O the Poothos!"
Oh yeah, I think it finally stopped snowing.

Returned to my roots with some Roots Bloody Roots and many other fine metallicious songs- I went out with some buddies to Metal Monday at a local dive. Good fun. It's nice to have the long hair to thrash around to Slayer, Sepultura, Soulfly, Pantera, Faith No More, System of a Down and Slipknot, among many others. We got there just in time to join the crowd in a rousing cheer for the Anaheim Mighty Ducks who managed to knock the pooStars out of Stanley Cup contention. Haha. I felt pretty bad though- not about the pooStars who I hate, but I ordered a pint of Trad and I thought the waitress said it was 3.75 so I gave her 4.50, and then when she brought me the second one and said 4.75 I realized I short-changed her earlier. I made up for it the rest of the night, though, which is why I maybe had one too many for a Monday night.
But I think the highlight of the evening was the snowball fight with Kevin.

Yeah, so, it's still snowing. Dawn Chubai tells me that it will continue to snow well into tomorrow. And that's fine by me, such pooey weather actually doesn't bother me that much. But I was just IM'ing with my sister, who, you will recall, resides in Mexico, and she had this to say:
i am soooooooo soooooo hot
arg
the cyber cafe of course has no air conditioning
Homie Bear says:
oh yeah
Homie Bear says:
that's too bad
nadine says:
during the day it's hotter outside but during the night it¿s hotter inside
Homie Bear says:
did I mention there is six inches of snow on the ground?

Mondays mean new Strong Bad email, and this particular Monday also means my Strong Bad shirt finally came in the mail! I took advantage of the relatively strong Canadian dollar (words I never thought I would type) to order a shirt and help support Homestar Runner. Unfortunately, I also had to support Canada Customs who charged me $7.52 in duty or whatever it's called. That seems a little steep to me, don't you think? I walked to the Poost office from the campus, and it's still snowing, so I got quite wet, but my new t-shirt is nice and dry. I feel like singing the Strong Badia National Anthem- "Come to the place where tropical breezes blow! Come to the coolest place I know! etc etc . . .and population tire!"

It's snowing and snowing and snowing today. All my fellow bears are probably thinking about going back into hibernation right about now. It's not actually that cold out though- according to the U of A webpage, it is .997 degrees right now (leave it to a university to have a temperature reading to three significant digits) so the snow should technically be melting. Using my own scientific measuring instrument (the window), I conclude that it isn't. The non-meltivity of the snow is approximately 7.89 millipoos.

That accident I witnessed the other night was the worst accident I've seen, all the rest being fender benders. The worst accident I've been in happened when I was 16 or 17, driving a bunch of friends to a death metal gig at the Bronx (a now-departed nightclub) one February evening. The day had been nice, and some of the snow had melted, only to refreeze in the evening as the temperature dropped below zero again. Being an inexperienced driver, I hit some ice, and started swerving uncontrollably on the freeway, heading towards the median. Since I knew I definitely didn't want to go into oncoming traffic, I jerked the wheel the other way and we wound up jumping the curb on the other side of the road, skidding a ways and then hitting a light pole sideways. The first thing I said was "Evreyone alright?" When everyone was, I said, "Holy shit poo that was quite the ride eh?" That was the end of my parents' little 1988 Subaru Justy, a fine car that had 4WD. Other than that, I was rear ended in my Little Green Jellybean once, but no serious damage was done, which is just as well since the guy who rear-ended me gave me false info and I nver was able to track him down.
When I was a rock truck driver (think Gigantic Tonka Trucks) I used to enjoy powersliding them in ice and mud. They were surprisingly prone to sliding, especially in ice. I used to try and see if I could do a complete 360 in them. I found that in mud, this was very difficult, a 180 was generally about as much as you could hope for, but in snow, multiple 360's were easy. Preventing them wasn't as easy. A number of times I'd be helplessly sliding sideways down a hill, not worried in the slightest, unless a pickup happened to be approaching. Pickups always lose in a collision with a rock truck. I once surprised my foreman who rounded a corner to see a huge yellow truck sliding sideways towards him. We managed to do the appropriate evasive maneuvers, but he called me on the radio right after, and in a very small voice asked, "Did that scare you as much as it scared me?" I poolitley said yes, but in truth I wasn't too worried. For myself, at least. Maybe a little for him. A similar thing happened with the mine manager once, but he was escorting me on a super slippery road, and decided to pass me just as I started turning sideways, but he didn't even seem to notice.
Sarah over at Desolation Angels was hit real bad by a semi once, I'll go and dig through her archives to see if I can find the story later on.*
Trevor, who was driving when we saw the accident the other night, was involved in a horrific accident once, but that is not my story to tell.
* Sarah doesn't have permalinks, so go to this link, and scroll down to December 8, to the entry entitled "How I Lost My Life and Lived to Tell About It, Or in Which Sarah Gets Run Over by a Semi and Sued for $250,000.00" Like all her stories, it is worth a read.

I've mentioned before that Metallica's Reload album came out while I was in the middle of my cross-Canada hitch-hiking trip, and therefore its songs are imprinted on my mind with associations to that trip, especially of the Churchill leg. One song that particularly seemed to echo my minsdet and philosophy at the time is Carpe Diem Baby, and I thought of it today after what happened last night. Here are the lyrics:

Carpe Diem Baby
Hit dirt
Shake tree
Split sky
Part sea

Strip smile
Lose cool
Bleed the day
And break the rule

Live, win
Dare, fail
Eat the dirt
And bite the nail

Then make me miss you
Then make me miss you

So wash your face away with dirt
It don't feel good until it hurts
So take this world and shake it
Come squeeze and suck the day
Come carpe diem, baby

Draw lead
Piss wine
Sink teeth
All mine

Stoke fire
Break neck
Suffer through this
Cheat on death

Hug the curve
Lose the time
Tear the map
And shoot the sign

Then make me miss you
Then make me miss you

So wash your face away with dirt
It don't feel good until it hurts
So take this world and shake it
Come squeeze and suck the day
Come carpe diem, baby

Live, win
Dare, fail
Eat dirt
Bite the nail

Strip smile
Lose cool
Bleed the day
And break the rule

Hug the curve
Lose the time
Tear the map
And shoot the sign

Then make me miss you
Then make me miss you

So wash your face away with dirt
It don't feel good until it hurts
So take this world and shake it
Come squeeze and suck the day

Come make me miss you
Come carpe diem, baby
Come carpe diem, baby

Words and Music by James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich and Kirk Hammett
Copyright © 1997 Creeping Death Music All Rights Reserved

But at the same time, listening to the words while traipsing through the snow-covered beaches of Hudson's Bay, looking for poolar bears, I had the nagging suspicion that James was actually heaping scorn on the subject of his lyrics- that bit about "Then make me miss you" seems to say that one can do all the stuff in the song, and fail to impress Hetfield. I actually like this interpretation too, since experiences, no matter how great and unique, must always come second to relationships in my set of values. So now I listen to the song with both interpretations in mind, and see the song as almost cautionary. James Hetfield is notoriously tight-lipped about what his lyrics mean, as he likes to let his listeners come to their own conclusions. I think I like mine, as ill-explained as they may be. What do you think?

Wow. I'm not even sure what to say. Uhh, let's see. First of all Trevor came over to watch the hockey game, and then we decided to go out for a beer after. So we're heading to a campus pub we like, and are waiting at the lights at 114th Street and University Ave, and we hear sirens. Looking around, we finally spot the source, some firetrucks on University Ave eastbound, going fast. And unfortunately there was a van load of young girls heading south, who did not hear the sirens. I saw the van, and I at first thought it was going to be awfully close, but all of a sudden the van was hit and spinning towards us. It hit the vehicle in front of us, another minivan, and it looked like we were going to be the next hit in the chain reaction, but all we got was a lot of glass on Trev's hood. I immediatley got out and checked on the girls, who were hysterical but more or less okay, although the two in the back where the firetruck hit seemed to be hurt, though not seriously. There were a whole bunch of startled onlookers, but no one seemed to have a cell phone or at least the presence of mind to call 911. I asked one lady if I could borrow her cell to make the call, and she pointed at the firetruck and said they were already here. I tried to explain to her that they were on a call, and that we needed an ambulance (the University Hospital is only a block away from the accident site), but in the confusion my words were not heeded. Probably the firemen radioed their dispatcher, who then called an ambulance, but I wanted to be sure. The firemen got out of their truck and took over from there, and as there was nothing more Trevor and I could do, we headed over to the pub, Trev voicing a prayer for the girls.
I have to say, I felt pretty helpless. I felt relieved that no one was seriously hurt. And I felt glad to be alive. We toasted life at the pub, maybe an overly melodramatic response, but seeing that minivan spinning towards us like that, well . . .

The new Metallica CD is called St. Anger, and though it is still more than a month away (it comes out June 10), I am starting to get excited. They are still the best ever, in my eyes, no matter how litigious they may have become. Master of Poopets, man! The other day they shot a video and put on a show at San Quentin Prison, which you can read about here. Worth the read, even if you don't care for Metallica.

I helped Doug with some more spring cleanup today, so I am tired. I would not have even bothered to blog except I have this impoortant announcement to make: tomorrow is my sister's birthday! And since I happen to have the keys to her blog, I snuck in and added a little greeting, and now I want all of you, even if you don't know her (since none of you do, come to think about it), to go and say happy birthday to her in her comments. Don't delay, do it right now. Press this link. Please and thank you!