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Crazy VS Crazy
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 2074
Time for our weekly coffee, I've been remiss, busy with projects and other distractions, it's time to catch up.
He comes in to the cafe, there's a single girl, young, early 20's at a table near to us, working on her computer. And on his way to pick up his coffee he stops to chat with her, she's on a Vista Machine, that's a fortunate coincidence as the government has been covertly infecting his PC with viruses and he needs a VISTA disc to reinstall his OS....maybe she has one?
She's pleasant, she nods, she does have her disc, does she mind running home so he can borrow it? No? Great....She's going to go in just a few minutes...
Now this is crazy. Walking into a cafe and asking a complete stranger if they have a spare OS kicking around that you can borrow. But maybe he's met his match.
She looks like a treeplanter. Fluorescent fake fur boots, torn coat, matted blond dreadlocks. We go outside for a cigarette, she comes along. She's sort of pretty in a youthful way, hard to tell, she's wearing layers of army clothes...and she keeps leaning over to spit, there's a puddle of saliva at her feet, not the forceful, manly sort of expectorate, but more like big gobs dribbled out by someone chewing tobacco. It's not attractive. He asks her about it, why she's spitting all the time, she says "It's my style...".
Now maybe there should be some flags, some clues that things aren't what they should be. When we go back in she disappears into the washroom, he's mentions her spitting, he thinks she's crazy....
Probably she is, but it's really not his place to be throwing stones...
He asks her again for the disc, she tells him in a while, she's waiting for a friend...
Now she's not waiting for a friend. Maybe she doesn't have the disc, maybe she thinks he's crazy, but she's not going to go get it for him. She's stalling, looking over at me and smiling, it's uncomfortable this, being in the middle of Crazy VS Crazy....
He offers her a ride, but she says she lives just around the corner, she's going to go in a few minutes...
We go out for another cigarette, our coffee, our conversation is done, I'm just hanging out now to see how this pans out, Crazy VS Crazy. She comes out and joins us, a pretty smile, perfect teeth stained with tea and tobacco, pieces of popcorn and cookie stuck all along the gums.
It's pretty fucked up. And still he wants his OS, and she's gonna go and get it, how long will we be here? And I gotta leave, it's nuts this, he's going to wait, she packs up her PC and leaves and anyone could tell that Crazy's won, but he's going to wait just to be sure. But when she's left and he's waiting he tells me, he doesn't know what's the matter with her, but he thinks she's crazy....
Radiolab
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Audio & Podcasts
- Hits: 1959
Nothing new, an old favorite rediscovered is all, formerly lost in the 1000's of bookmarks that are my organizational skills....
WNYC.org - Public Radio, Listen Here: http://www.wnyc.org/shows/radiolab/
Robbed at EB Games
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Rants
- Hits: 2510
The children want to swap some of their unused video games, so we go through the box and line up a dozen or so they no longer play. Mostly XBox games, some in the case, all in good working order, and as I'm not familiar with the process the boy explains that I'll have to go along, they need an adult, they'll exchange the games for credit and get some different ones.
So we head on down. It's a busy little store this, a popular chain that sells both new and used games for all makes of console. And the clerk begins to scan the games in, the price he gives is the price that comes up on the computer. 50 cents. 25 cents. And I'm a little surprised, these things are expensive new, but maybe they're really cheap used. He looks a bit sheepish as he scans them in, the games, 50 cents here, 25 cents here, by the time he's scanned all the games in the kids have earned a whopping $6.00 in credit. For a dozen used XBOX games. And I'm wondering how much their used games are, if they're paying 25 or 50 cents per game, how much can they be charging for the same games?
I quickly find out. $15-20 per used game. For a game they purchased from their customers for under a dollar.
I catch the boys eye, can't bring myself to say anything, it would have been better to simply dump the games off at a thrift shop than trade them here at their usurious rates of exchange.
Now I understand they have to make a living. And maybe these games we were exchanging, they weren't the most popular of titles. But then why wouldn't they sell them at a dollar or two? Or, if they don't need the game, why take it at all? Why not set up a table in the middle of the store where people can simply swap unpopular games, 2 for 1, and make their money off the traffic that will naturally come through?
But reason is frequently lost with these companies. Suffice it to say I'll never purchase anything there again. And I think there needs to be a T-Shirt - "I was robbed at EB Games...", given away free to anyone stupid enough to exchange a game there.
Plays, Chinese boy, living north of Texas
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 2202
I've had a wealth of strange dreams lately. I put it down to stress. And while I won't write these down in their entirety, here is a brief sampling.....
There's a Chinese boy, maybe 7, he's over in America on a scholarship, hiding in a now defunct radio telescope array, I see him, his family, shadows flitting about the unused equipment, he's a prodigy, there are other people living down here, some are more legal than others, and his story is that he was a prodigy, brought over when NASA was still thriving, now, with NASA defunct, they're living here....
Or I'm on my way to see a play, Orpheus and Euridyce's at the Grand, and I've caught a bus in from out of town...It drops me off in an old neighborhood not far from the theater, I think, and so I begin to make my way towards the play....I pass somewhere I used to live, counting the street numbers, it's getting later and later and I realize that I'm not going to make the play....
There's a building and I'm inside, it's a poetry reading, famous local lawyer is reading, he's tall, thin, good looking with shock of dark hair, those fashionable thick dark rimmed glasses and a peculiar overbite that sees his top row of teeth extend an inch above his bottom. He's a lawyer but he'd really rather be a poet, the lawyer business is just something he does to pass the time... I've somehow volunteered with this play, and so go along with a coterie of volunteers to the theatre to see a pre-screening. It's in his law offices, there's a stage below and 1 floor up, perched precariously on the edge without room to move are the seats...I get vertigo finding mine, looking down at the stage, feels as if one could fall at any moment, and there's no guardrail to protect you.
It's a modern dance number, the dream passes, we help the dancers with their blocking, the view from above looks through a cross-shaped cut in the floor. He tells my my role as volunteer, I'm to hold up a sign on the Whitemud freeway in Edmonton that tells traffic how to get here....
I think this is absolutely useless, I've missed my play, Orpheus and Eurydice, but he's very persuasive and charming, and now begins to tell me about how the law firm he works for has hidden a cashbox full of money in a corner of the law office, buried right in the concrete, and maybe there's room for a bright young man such as myself to be his intern, we could split the proceeds....
I'm living somewhere north of Texas with a woman and her child...my daughter is there, we're only 3 hours from the Gulf of Mexico, the ex swings by to tell me it's OK, she doesn't mind living here, it's strange, the house is dark, like a woodsy log-cabin, something isn't right and I keep thinking that the Gulf of Mexico is only 3 hours from here....
***
All in all a strange assortment, a rather unbroken streak of half-remembered, disquieting dreams...
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