Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Today, my copy of Lost Girls arrived in the mail, along with miscellanea (most probably non-pornographic) addressed to my mother. All was delivered by quite possibly the best postman ever.

The first thing I noticed about him was his navy, Canada Post-issue ushanka. Trimmer and snugger than your trapper hat, but sporting the same practical fur-lined earflaps, it is also worn less often with hipster irony than the trapper hat is. I love the pragmatism of Canadian uniforms; the same warm but not quite fashionable headgear is issued to the city's transit drivers and police officers, reminding all of us how Very Cold it can get here and how Silly we all look trying to fight it.

The second thing I noticed was his awesome, straggly moustachio. It had grown in the conventional way in a shallow arch over his upper lip and then down the sides of his mouth, but the ends had been noticeably cultivated in thicker tufts, resulting in a style of chin wig I could not immediately identify by name.

The third thing I noticed was the ceramic earring on his right earlobe. It was not a drop shape affixed in a steadfast manner, but perceptibly quivered and dangled, which was unusual for a male earring. Ceramic was also a material worthy of remark, since most men's lobular jewellery seems to run from your ordinary singular pirate hoop to mucho-gay diamond stud, with little in-between. Quite unusual, I thought at the time. A maverick on our hands, I daresay.

The fourth thing I did not really notice, per se, since he said it. As he handed me my mail, he asked how my "obnoxious" neighbours were, nodding towards the end of the street, whose residents were complete strangers to me. Er, I said, trying to be agreeable in the face of an earring and moustachio (combo!), they were as obnoxious as ever? As I shiftily scrawled my signature on the electronic doohickey he had given me, he remarked that he had known them, but "not any longer."

Cryptic! thought I.

I thanked him, and he wished me a good day, before bounding off in a vigourous fashion.

posted at 2:50:38 pm

February 9, 2007   04:03 AM PST
Paragraph four is GOLDEN. You are a master.
January 9, 2007   12:31 PM PST
Lost Girls!!! Yes, yes, yes!!!
January 3, 2007   12:54 AM PST
The most impressive mustache I have ever seen was on a Cannon copier tech.

He had a bit of a paunch, and wore slightly out of style work shirts and a basic, out of style haircut. Basically just like every copier technician.

But then he had this fantastic, pencil thin, waxed, curled at the end, 30s black and white silent film villain mustache. I couldn't keep a straight face. Every time he told me he had fixed the machine, I was disappointed. I kept waiting for him to inform me that he was stealing the copier, and that he intended to tie it to the train tracks at midnight, where it would surely be crushed unless I came alone and unarmed.

I was always disappointed.
January 2, 2007   03:32 PM PST
He Killed them

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Glo'ri'a'na, noun:
1. An alternative form of "Gloria."
2. As "Americana" defines itself as artefacts of American culture, "Gloriana" consists of the artefacts of my culture.


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