Happy Hallowe'en! I changed the template a bit to match the day- hopefully I can make it go back tomorrow. And I wrote a bear ghost story below, I hope you like it, and for true bear scariness, you can go back and read NosBEARatu, written by gabrielle. I hope you don't pass out with fright.

Ever wonder what kind of ghost story would frighten a grizzly? Gather around the campfire, my friends, and I will tell you a tale . . .

One day as I was hunting I met an old grey wolf who was guarding a fresh kill. Since he was on my territory I didn't hesitate to assert my rights to the kill, and was about to dispatch the wolf when he asked me to spare him.
"Why should I?" I asked, thinking I might get a good laugh at whatever pathetic excuse he came up with.
"Because I know something which might be of interest to you- I know where there is a horde of gold!"
"Gold?? What do I care about gold?"
"You can use it to buy this entire forest from the humans so that they will never chop it down ever and there won't be any hunting here!"
"Hmm. Alright- where is this gold?"
"It's in a cabin down by the Kisikak River. Do you know it?"
"Yes, I fish near there often. How did gold come to be in that cabin?"
"It's a long story of intrigue, betrayal and murder involving humans."
"Oh. Never mind, then. I couldn't care less what humans do to each other."
"Actually, the murder wasn't committed by humans."
This caught my interest. "Then who?"
"The humans were poachers. Fur traders. They shot beavers, coyotes, wolves, and bears. The story goes that they shot and killed the mightiest grizzly bear this forest has seen in generations. "
"They couldn't have- I'm still alive."
"Well, anyways, the story has it that this bear came back."
"What do you mean, came back?"
"Like, he was a ghost and he came back and took care of the hunters. And now the poachers' gold is there just waiting to be dug up."
"The poachers had gold?
"They were also pirates."
"Uh-huh. And how do you know this?"
"I just do. Take me with you, and if it's not true, you can kill me."
"Alright, let's go see it."
The wolf led me down to Kisikak River and the 'haunted' cabin. The door was broken, open to the elements, and there were animal skulls scattered all over the grounds. I didn't see any ghosts, though. The wolf led me into the cabin, which was dark and dusty, and full of mice poo. Suddenly my paw was caught in a steel-tooth trap! The bastard wolf set me up! I swiped at him with my free paw, but he was out of reach, and laughing at me. Laughing!!
"You may be stronger than me, brother bear, but I am much smarter! There's no gold and the poachers are long gone. I am too, so enjoy yourself- maybe if you go into hibernation now someone can get you out of this trap before you starve. Farewell!" And with a howl, he was gone, leaving me to my fate.
I considered my options- I could chew my paw off, but I would be as good as dead without the ability to hunt even if I did. Hibernation would just expose me to scavengers, and delay the inevitable- I would starve.
And so I did. It took a long time, and it was painful. But when my time finally came to take my place with my ancestors amidst the stars of the Great Bear, I chose another road.
There is a ghost haunting the cabin of Kisikak River- me!

Marilyn Manson and Scottish Kung Fu Dancing!
Really, what more need I say?
Okay, I suppose I can fill in a few details. Tonight I went to my friend Morna's Scottish Country Dancing Hallowe'en party and I dressed as Marilyn, which isn't that much of a stretch, really, but it was fun. The kung fu part is a reference to the time when Morna first invited me to a ceilidh, and I thought she said Scottish KungFu Dancing instead of Country dancing so I immediately said yes. And even after I found out that it really referred to jigs and reels I was still happy to go- it's fun.
Though I am not sure the real Marilyn ever danced a Scottish jig.

Brr it's cold out there! So I spent most of the afternoon outside walking around, in order to become aclimatized to winter. I'm ready now- bring it on!
The majority of my missions, however, were unaccomplished and I am sad about that. I went to get tickets to Rocky Horror Picture Show but the box office wasn't open. I tried to find certain items, but was unable. However, I did find Yann Martel's Life of Pi for quite cheap- 20% off the cover price. My American friends may not have heard of this book, as it was written by a Canadian, but it has won all sorts of prizes and is about a talking tiger, among other things. I haven't read it, obviously since I just bought it (and am still working on Cryptonomicon), but Mr. Martel will be here in Edmonton next week so maybe I will see if I can attend one of the events he will be at.

Ever wonder what a polar bear would dress up as for Hallowe'en?
Maybe a ghost.
He could be a wizard, like Saruman or something, if he put on a long wig.
Or a yeti, but he would have to walk around all day up on his hind legs.
With some dye he could go as a black bear.
Ooh- I know- with a little shimmery makeup applied in the right places he could go as the aurora borealis! That would be cool.

This doesn't count as a real poost, just Blu sent me this link and I wanted to preserve it- I looove this image, from this guy's gallery.
And since this isn't a real poost, I can talk about my hockey poo and bemoan the fact that I got my ass kicked tonight. I was winning until tonight. Now >sigh<, I am tied for first.
And since I haven't talked about Marilyn for over 24 hours, I would just like to say what a kickass song Cake and Sodomy is.

One time at Hallowe'en I was giving out candy- this is fun because I get to see all the little kids who look so cute in their costumes. One trick or treater came to the door and she was wearing a mask, and politely, but silently, waited for me to give her some candy. So I gave her a handful, and I couldn't help but notice the leathery hands that accepted the sweets. Then she waved, and turned around and left. I saw grey hair sticking out of her mask.
I almost called out after her- she fascinated me. What was her story? I like to think she was a badass granny who doesn't give a f*ck about societal conventions, and was out having a blast.
Of course, that's just my favorite theory. Another one I came up with posited that she was the grandma of a very sick little boy who was unable to go trick or treating, so she took it upon herself to go out and get him some treats.
Alternatively, she may have been a poor or even homeless woman who was taking advantage of the occasion to score some free food- aside from candy she was maybe hoping to get some apples as well.

Tammy wrote a bio for me for my ooze articles, and she said I live "in the northern reaches of Western Canada near the Rockies, where it snows most of the year." I laughed at the bit about snow, because I know Tammy doesn't really think that, and yet many Americans seem to think so.
But it snowed today.
It has begun.
And unfortunately I am not a hibernating bear. Well, and plus I actually like winter. It's good for tobogganogganning, skating, and building snowforts. It's just the possibility-of-freezing-to-death part that is a pain. A minor irritation.

In honor of Hallowe'en, Rolling Stone has a feature called Monsters of Rock- Bands That Scared the Crap Out of Us. Of course, there are links to my man Marilyn, and also Slipknot, Rob Zombie and some other ones.
Personally, I was always more scared by this sort of thing. >shudder<

Lately my Room-mate and I have been watching Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes for supper. Well, not for supper, since they provide no real nutritional value, but during supper. Anyways, it's been really fun going back to them- it's been years since I had any real interest in Trek. All the spinoffs and dumb movies (First Contact excepted) and knobby-headed aliens got tiresome after a while. Watching them now, I am surprised at how good they are, and my love for TNG is rekindled.
Wait, let me back up a bit and dissect that sentence. "How good they are." Hmm.
We have watched episodes where the Enterprise gives birth to a rubick's cube that commandeers the holodeck in order to run a train simulation for some reason;
where we discover that Jean-Luc had an ancestor named Javier Picard;
where Worf's future adult son comes back in time (after meeting "someone"- just some guy, apparently- who had the power to control time) and tries to kill his younger self;
where Dr. Beverly Crusher falls in love with a ghost who can reanimate the corpse of her dead grandmother;
where Troi turns into a frog, Worf a spikey alien, Riker a caveman and Data's cat devolves into an iguana.

Hmm. Ok- "good" may not be the best term to use. Incredibly entertaining, though, especially watching them with someone as versed in Trek lore as my room-mate. And the episode we watched last night, called "Lower Decks" was in fact very well-written and engrossing. And "Genesis", the last one in that list, was actually really cool, despite (or because of) its wonky evolutionary science that claims that cats are descended from iguanas.

At long last I saw Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas tonight. I've been wanting to for months now. It has been a hitherto doomed undertaking, seeing this movie. But finally I found a copy to rent. And it was great- totally faithful to the book, which you should read without delay.
"The decision to flee came suddenly. The bill was a factor, I think, because I had no money to pay for it."

Gabrielle has poosted a review of the Prey for Rock and Roll Soundtrack on her blog, and she has also given me permission to poost it here, in order to garner more pooblicity for this excellent movie that we currently are unable to see since there are no major distributors for it. Read, buy and demand that the movie be shown all over the world, my friends.

"Punk rock girl says can't you play a little faster
I only like the music when it goes real fast
Punk rock girl says can't you play a little louder
Just a little louder cuz I like it like that
Punk rock girl says can't you play a little faster
Can't you play a little louder, man can't you do that?
Punk rock girl, she don't wanna hear the slow songs
She don't see the point in crap like that"

Prey for Rock and Roll is the soundtrack to the indie movie of the same name currently storming theatres everywhere except here. Since I am denied the ability to review the movie, I'll review the soundtrack instead. Prey is the story of a struggling girl punk band whose lead singer, Jacki, is in her forties and toying with the idea of abandoning the whole gig since the band has never gotten their big break. The music is circa 80s punk rock with a decidedly 2003 twist. Gina Gershon, who plays Jacki in the film, does all her own vocals here and it's her performance that drives the album. She is backed by punk grrrl lyrics from Cheri Lovedog, Samantha Maloney from Hole, Sara Lee from the B-52s, Gina Volpe from Lunachicks, and Stephen Trask of Hedwig & The Angry Inch fame.

Gina Gershon, an actress by trade but clearly a singer by passion, growls and prowls through the songs. She is more punk than half the 'legitimate' punk acts I've heard these days. In Punk Rock Girl she's teasing, you can practically hear her smirk through the saucy lyrics. In Every 6 Minutes she's angry, she belts out the words to a song about rape statistics and it's personal, she demands that you hear her. In The Ugly she is just plain punk. She takes the songs and infuses them with a tangible grit and wild sort of seduction. This is punk the way we love it. Angry, loud, good, and sexy. Gina has a new career if she wants it.

As a whole the album is a ride. It takes you through the movie's paces but it doesn't lose you. It maintains a driving beat and relentless guitars throughout. This album knows that its heart is rock and roll and it never forgets itself. Neither the songwriting nor the capable lead singer will let you forget it either. If you're smart, you'll get Prey for Rock and Roll so that you're in on the revelation when Gina Gershon becomes a rock goddess in her own right. But you'll love it because it's damn good.

Now if Gina could do a duet with Brody Armstrong from The Distillers, I could probably die happy...

Oh yeah I spoke at Lister Hall at the univeristy today, too, and it went well. I spoke on seeking and finding, and being sought. Sadly, I didn't go in costume, though I had thought about it- but then I thought that might be a little distracting, having oozing eyes and stuff, especially in front of a bunch of total strangers.

"Alert the Barillo cartel that El has come out of hiding."
"I don't think we sh . . ."
"Are you a Mexican . . . or a Mexican't?"
I got to spout off great lines like that all night, as I was Agent Sands from Once Upon a Time in Mexico for the G's Hallowe'en party.
"I can't SEE. I have no eyes."
Being a CIA agent isn't that much of a costume, but being Agent Sands is, as I got to wear the coolest makeup ever- I blacked out my eyes, then put oozey red blood trails coming down, and of course all this was hidden behind some shades.
Let's see if I can show you a picture of what I mean:
Yup, that would be him. Me. He has his own theme music, even.
As do I, and I finally got an mp3 of it last night so I been listening to Hey Hey Hey Homie Bear. If anyone wants a copy I can probably transmit it over Messenger, though it is too big to email. Just let me know.
Everyone else was all dressed up and looking good too- we had Felicity Shagwell, a boy scout, a greaser, a fairy, and even the little babies were dressed up! One was a chicken and one was a spider and they were so cute!
Other than the little cutey-pies, though, I think everyone was in agreement that Maleficent was the best dressed.

I am speaking at Lister Hall tomorrow afternoon, a dorm at the U of A. You might recall I spoke there last semester, too, and it went well. I should be writing my talk, but instead I am dreaming up clever band names, like TBA. That way, on a marquis, you could put, "Tonight's band: TBA"
There's already a band called The Special Guests, which I always thought was pretty clever. How about Cancelled? That would really mess things up with promoters. "What band is playing tonight?"
"Oh, it's Cancelled!"
"Aww, that sucks. Guess I won't come then."

I was hired by my coal mine 6 times in nine years- 5 consecutive summers when I was in university, and then once as a regular back in 2001. Each time I had to go through training, since the rule is, after 6 months of not driving you have to be retrained. This is a totally bogus rule, and the only reason it is in effect is because heavy haulers are the low guys on the totem pole, and no one wanted to be demoted to it after getting on another, better piece of equipment. Thus they had the rule passed so that they could say, "I can't drive truck because my training is not up-to-date."
So, I am waaaaay over-trained as a heavy hauler operator. Lots of times I woud be trained by an operator with less experience than I, and I would give them pointers and advice.
And also there was a written test I had to take each time- a three hour test, with a passing grade being 90%. I always tried to get 100% on it, but never quite managed. There weren't any questions about how to not blow up, but there were a lot of "what to do if . . . " your brakes fail; your tire blows; you flip over; you plummet down a 900 foot drop into the dump, etc. The answer to all of them, pretty much, is pray.

I had a dream last night that involved being in Newfoundland, where my friend Trevor crashed his Datsun (which he doesn't own in real life) into a wall, and also involved me getting a Class 1 licence to be a truck driver. The company I was applying to work at supplied trucks to its drivers, and one of the drivers who was working there already was mad at them so he parked his truck ten blocks away, in a handicapped parking spot, so that the next driver coming on shift would have to walk all that way and pay a hefty parking ticket. He was pretty proud of himself.
The test I had to write was very hard, involving things like knowing when to bleed hydraulic pressure from the lines so that you don't blow up. Which I am pretty sure is not a problem truckers face in real life.

Everybody has their own thing going on. That's pretty astounding, when you think about it. There are 6 billion people, roughly, so that means there are 6 billion different lives and motivations and dreams and you name it. Today as I was walking around, I saw a man furtively hiding behind a pillar, taking pictures of a nondescript building with a point-and-shoot camera, and then slinking away. Or on the train I watched another man warm his hands by spitting on them and rubbing the saliva. At Wendy's I couldn't help wondering what the two elderly gentlemen were discussing- was it current stuff like the Trappers leaving town, or the weather or politics, or was it good-old-days related?
I wonder if anyone ever looks at me and wonders what my story is.

It was a worthy ten year anniverary. I got to hang out with two of my very best friends. Rowan came on MSN just like I hoped, and we got all caught up. Then Jay and I hooked up for stogies, and we talked and reminisced and philosophized. And we didn't even get into any trouble with the law.
Though I came close to getting us into a different sort of trouble when we poked our heads in at La Tienda, saw it was full, and asked for suggestions for cigar-friendly bars, and one guy suggested Overtime.
"Overtime?" I said, "No way, that's where all the cougars and divor . . ." I stopped when I realized the guy talking was about the exact demographic for Overtime, and him and all his friends were obviously quite fond of the place.
But no one beat us up and no one arrested us. Come to think of it, maybe that would have been even more fun . . . nah.

Time flies. Today is another very significant day in Homie Bear's calendar. On or about ten years ago today . . . Jason and Rowan and I had a little adventure. Got into some trouble, you might say. Perhaps I will leave it at that, to protect the privacy of those worthy fellows, one of whom I will be meeting later tonight so that we can celebrate this auspicious day.
The other one is not currently on this continent, though he sent his greetings and will try to log on to MSN today if he can.
Sweet freedom.
And, let me just say, in honor of my partners-in-crime, Fuck the PO-lice!