Canada's Pride and Joy
"8/twentysomething/08
Living on my own is fantastic; the sense of isolation is comforting because I know there are at least a dozen people I can hang out with who are only a phone call away. Of course often times the sense of isolation is only compounded by the fact that I wonder if my phone even works. I can call 12 people and get 12 different answering machines without even trying. If you ever need to call someone who you're really hoping you won't have to talk to, just let me dial it, I can almost guarantee it'll go to the voicemail.
I manage though. There are a lot of things to do on your own. Surprisingly, I haven't really done that much writing. I watch a lot of movies and listen to a lot of music, and I sort of picked up playing video games again. However, this very page did almost turn into an angry letter to Blake Schwarzenbach.
I put my copy of "Bivouac" into my CD/DVD player last night and it wouldn't play. "Goddamnit!" I looked at the jewel case and on the back, in bold print, it said, "MADE IN CANADA." It was displayed so proudly in two places of the album art that one would think Jawbreaker CD's are one of Canada's main exports. I smirked, and then blamed the inferiority of the product on the fact that it was foreign made.
The problem was that now not only was I having difficulty getting Canada's pride and joy to play, but I was having trouble getting anything to play. "Bivouac," was the last thing in my CD/DVD player before it broke, and now I was directing my anger towards Jawbreaker.
The machine would no longer read any discs. Instead it whizzed and chirped for minutes on end without showing any sign of actually playing my movies. At first I was nervous it would scratch, or worse yet, break my DVDs- so I gave it a Guinea pig. The Apple Dumpling Gang DVD that was given to me as a Christmas present last year, which I still haven't watched. After a few minutes of observation I decided that the beast was only trying to taste my movies, but was not content to eat them, and so I continued trying to play movies that I might actually care to watch.
After about a half hour of trial and error I found three methods of coercion highly effective. 1. Tapping. 2. Shaking. 3. Violently cursing the Canadian made piece of shit CD that forcibly fucked my only reasonable means of expiration in the ass. And after another 15 minutes of drunken combat I finally beat the beast into submission. I flopped onto the mattress on the floor in front of my TV and enjoyed the spoils of war. Two scenes of Dr. Strangelove before passing out to the thought of how cool it would have been if Blake Schwarzenbach actually mailed me a new DVD player."
Needless to say, it wasn't the most worthwhile 45 minutes I've ever spent.
Living on my own is fantastic; the sense of isolation is comforting because I know there are at least a dozen people I can hang out with who are only a phone call away. Of course often times the sense of isolation is only compounded by the fact that I wonder if my phone even works. I can call 12 people and get 12 different answering machines without even trying. If you ever need to call someone who you're really hoping you won't have to talk to, just let me dial it, I can almost guarantee it'll go to the voicemail.
I manage though. There are a lot of things to do on your own. Surprisingly, I haven't really done that much writing. I watch a lot of movies and listen to a lot of music, and I sort of picked up playing video games again. However, this very page did almost turn into an angry letter to Blake Schwarzenbach.
I put my copy of "Bivouac" into my CD/DVD player last night and it wouldn't play. "Goddamnit!" I looked at the jewel case and on the back, in bold print, it said, "MADE IN CANADA." It was displayed so proudly in two places of the album art that one would think Jawbreaker CD's are one of Canada's main exports. I smirked, and then blamed the inferiority of the product on the fact that it was foreign made.
The problem was that now not only was I having difficulty getting Canada's pride and joy to play, but I was having trouble getting anything to play. "Bivouac," was the last thing in my CD/DVD player before it broke, and now I was directing my anger towards Jawbreaker.
The machine would no longer read any discs. Instead it whizzed and chirped for minutes on end without showing any sign of actually playing my movies. At first I was nervous it would scratch, or worse yet, break my DVDs- so I gave it a Guinea pig. The Apple Dumpling Gang DVD that was given to me as a Christmas present last year, which I still haven't watched. After a few minutes of observation I decided that the beast was only trying to taste my movies, but was not content to eat them, and so I continued trying to play movies that I might actually care to watch.
After about a half hour of trial and error I found three methods of coercion highly effective. 1. Tapping. 2. Shaking. 3. Violently cursing the Canadian made piece of shit CD that forcibly fucked my only reasonable means of expiration in the ass. And after another 15 minutes of drunken combat I finally beat the beast into submission. I flopped onto the mattress on the floor in front of my TV and enjoyed the spoils of war. Two scenes of Dr. Strangelove before passing out to the thought of how cool it would have been if Blake Schwarzenbach actually mailed me a new DVD player."
Needless to say, it wasn't the most worthwhile 45 minutes I've ever spent.