Ten Tickets

I thought it would never happen again.


I leave my house with door locked behind me, and I walk.
The air is cold, sweeping away any warmpth it finds.
The summer season has left me and I walk.

Alone on the cold streets I venture to a place I though I'd never go again.
With the directions of stranger I came upon it.

It was a small brick building. One that marked the begining of a long, cold winter.
"I'll take the ten tickets, please" I decided.

And that was it.

The result of a manditory safty inspection of a cirten 1987 Chevrolet Camaro has undone summer and released winter upon me as I face the bitter cold and decreesed mobility of city transit.

Let untold adventure begin, old friend.

My Snow Poem

It was below zero.
It was winter.
Yet there I was.

Outside.
Standing on the deck with a boiling pot of water.

It was winter.
It was cold.
Yet there I was.

Snow.

Paintballing

It was a fun day. I remember it fairly well. A heavy set man gave us guns and sent us into the bush where we were divided into two groups and seperated by a field of obsticles. A count down from three began followed by the instruction to "Go".

I remember the very first time I was shot. I was hunckered down against a white picket fence looking building when all of a sudden out of nowhere a mad man darted out infront of me. Several shots rang out as he blindly fired at me. I was hit three times at relativly close range *THWAP!* *THWAP!* *THWAP!* I didn't return fire because for that moment all I could clearly think about was how much I wasn't enjoying the feeling of evil death murder paintballs hitting me. It was painfull and I didn't like it.

After makeing the decision to contunue partisipating in this extream sport giving it a second chance I was shot in the neck. I definatly remember being shot in the neck.

I also remember takeing cover behind a downed airplane. Being shot at I remember the sound of paintballs hitting the metal hull of the aircraft. I was able to return fire from that position and lasted near to the end of that battle.

It was fun but the paintballs definatly hurt a lot more than invisible pretend bullets.

Sasquach and His Day

Sasquach and His Day

Intorduction

Roupert Henry is a sasquach. As a sasquach he reeks and eats fish from the river.

This is the story of:

Roupert's Day

Roupert is the only sasquach in the whole forest where he lives. He wakes up alone and goes to sleep alone. One sunny afternoon Rupert was laying down on the forest floor doing absolutly nothing. He decided he wanted to do something so he rolled over. Then all of a sudden Rupert saw some butterflys. He jumped to his feet and yelled at them "GRwwwwaaW" then again even louder "RRAGGGRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" Roupert took off after them running through the trees with his hairy legs. The butterflys slowly fluttered upwards as Rupert Henry franticly jumped and swiped at them with his lumpy hands. With the sun light filtering throught the leaves he lost sight of them.

Rupert decided to go to the river. Twigs and leaves snaped and krinkled under his heavy, usually sweaty sasquach feet as he walked. Little flys buzzed around his knoby ears. Rupert didn't mind. He just kept on walking. Down at the river there was this big old tree all bent out of shape and leaning low over the water. Rupert simmied out about half way across the river and let his feet dangel in the cold rushing water. He fell asleep.

A strong wind came by rustling all the leaves and caused the branches to sway. Startled Roupert woke up and almost fell in the river but he used his cat like reflexes to stay balanced. As Roupert began making his way from the tree he realized his feet were froze numb by the water. Bringing himself to his feet he found he could still walk on them but only in a clumbsy aquard way.
Eventually he made it back to his rotting log in which he sleeps and retired for the day.
THE END.

Within Three Days

Yesterday:
A piece of rain from way up high in the sky came flying down and hit me in the face.

Today:
I ate groceries for lunch using all the eating organs I usually do.

Tomorrow:
I assume and am relativly sure that I will wear my pants.

How to Make Spagitte

The very first thing you do is get done work.
Then secondly you go to a fitness gym and do some intense strength training so that you can beat Jeremaih in an arm wrestle. Then after that you put your winter coat back on and walk home. Don't slip on the ice.
Now this is where it gets extreamly complicated so I'll use numbers, letters and some brackets to help you.

1.
find the pot you used to cook spagitte in yesterday and pick it up.
2.
a) Put cold tap water in the pot so it's half full.
b) Put the stove burner on MAZ. I mean ZX a! X...
a)---> Put the pot on the hot burner so that the burner and the pot are touching.
3.
The water is going to boil pretty soon so hury up and get the spagitte sauce and parmazan cheese from the fridge. Get a plate and a fork too.
4.1)
When the water boils (you will see bubbles and steam) get some spagitte and put it in. (Snap the spagitte in half because the pot is small).
4.2)
Turn the stove burner to half way.
4.2)a.
Watch your spagitte cook and swish it around with a fork.
5.
Now eat about two strands of spagitte to see if it's cooked. Nevermind how hot it is.
6.
When it's cook good use the lid of the pot and try draining the hot water out. Don't let any spagitte get out. The steam might burn your arm.
(7.)
Mix the spagitte with the spagitte sauce and put lots of parmazan cheese on top.

Broken Cell Phone

This is a story of the day my cell phone broke.

I was wearing a necklace with a small silver cross. It was a gift, new, but not shining. Not now. There was no light, it was dark out and I had just arrived at the end of my rope. The end of the road where everything just. . . couldn't end. There had to be more.

The day began after work with a weekend in Edmonton ahead of me. I was in a hurry, making last minute decisions trying not to forget anything. But the sun fell faster than I could hurry. For an hour and a half I drove against the lights of oncoming traffic and my need to drift asleep. I was tested, drained and sapped of patience but now with the house of my destination within eyes reach I could almost. . . almost. . . and just like that the same flow of traffic that brought me so close was now drawing me away. The white dotted lines that once guided me now trapped me. I was in control of nothing and far away.

I hated it.

I hated who I had become. I had become a calendared man with no room for adventure. A man seeking approval from ever changing inconsistent opinions of people and a man who kept looking at his stupid cell phone as if hoping to find something. And that is when my cell phone broke - in half.

The Beard on my Face

About some days ago I started growing a beard and it has gotten to the point where people have started making comments about it. To my face, out lound and in english.
It's as if people are just simply tired of making "I like your shirt" and "nice shoes" comments. They want something different to comment on. Something new, unpredictable and exciting. My beard gives them this oppurtunity.
Now as exciting as it is to get a comment about my face hair, the peoples lack of experience commenting on the topic really shows. And it's not their fault, there just arn't many people with hary faces out there.
For example: Maybe a casheir looks up and I'm standing there. She's caught off guard. In a panic she forgets where she is and what she's doing. . . "BEARD!" "BEARD!" "RED BEARD!".

Now maybe I've used the word "beard" too much in this entry.
And maybe the whole thing doesn't realy make sence.
But really, it doesn't matter.
GoodDay.

The World Is Your Home

As my time in Edmonton staying with the Stewarts came to an end the travels back to Jeremiah's Crossfield began.

A pit stop in Drayton Valley saw us attending a morning church service. Afterwards with the diminishing cheers of the congregation behind me I struck out on a walk. With no particular destination in mind I wandered through typical "what if" scenarios.
"I could just stay here".
Seems like a nice place...it's not a city, theres a hip happening church, a handy GreyHound Depo and a good town name.
With nothing but reason standing in my way the thought of staying developed into what Jeremaih once described as the "sharp joy...of extream change."

I ate an egg. It was a nice restaurant, good food, clean washrooms...
I cracked a slight smile as Uncle Peter made mention of my ramaining travels south to Jeremiah Town. "Good" I thought "He has no idea". I had a sneeking suspicion Uncle Peter somehow knew, but no, of course he didn't. Could no one see my thoughts of staying written in my subtle facial expressions and unspoken words?
The looming departure time had now arrived as I closed the car door. "You know where to go from here right Mom?" I asked holding the map. "Because I'm going to stay here". Mom hesitated putting the car into drive "You're going to stay right there in your seat are you?"

It was a morning of suprises.
A couple pastors got Harlys.
Benjamin stayed in Drayton Valley.

The Pit

The Pit.
A sea of flat table tops cluttered with works in progress. A common ground for us who study drawing and painting.
We're already artists.

South Common Mall

It was cold.
I pulled my hood up over my head as I stepped off the transit bus.
South Common Mall, my transfer point.

Not to deviate too far from my story but I remember when I first came to the realization of just how simple an idea public washroom hand dryers really are. They're just heat and wind. I could probably build one with toaster elements and fan blades. Get an electric motor to power it.

I've done my research.
See:

Some of this, because

and the motor...

some...cats

So my story at South Common Mall actually starts with a hand dryer. And I mean exactly that. A hand dryer, singular. Just one.
"You'd think they'd have more than one hand dryer" I said to the man behind me as his waiting hands let drops of water hit the floor. “We should complain about it” I suggested. At this point I was ready to end the conversation and get out of there.
Leaving him and the roar of the wind machine diminishing behind me I soon approached the Muffin Lady. How might I get in contact with the Mall people? I asked. She answered and pointed over my shoulder to the door between two big signs.
“Good”. I thought.
As an unspoken thank-you for her help I bought myself a red berry muffin. And said Thank-you.

I was still eating my muffin when I was talking to the office secretary lady about hand dryers.

Three Drawings

The Kitchen, drawn in pencil and altered on PC (Personal Computer).


Why are there so many straws?


Watching T.V. and doing my homework.

People Poem

People

People walk
People talk
People don't stop
I'm
A tree

-- B.W.Zarn

Some Words

Fancy Pants.

Autumn

Look,
a leaf,
blowing away

--J.J.Zarn.

Before Its Due

I do a lot of my homework sitting on a wodden chair at an old
kitchen table.

Sidewalks

I walk on sidewalks a lot. Never used to do much of that but now it's almost everyday. I've gotten use to it. It's practicaly normal.

Funny story,
the other day I was walking on the side walk, right, and this rain, right, it was totally falling from the sky. From the clouds I guess. Like it normaly does. And so I was there on the sidewalk, walking right, and then I was like, you know, just walking like I normaly do an' th' funny thing was the rain wasn't getting me all wet like it normaly does. Because see, I was holding an umbrella. It was stopping all the rain from hitting me. It's like a rain stopper.


ah, it's time I eat.
Good Day to you.

Four Pennies

During the second walking portion of my journy home from school I found four pennies.
Need I say more?
. . ...
Yeah?

Okay. Here goes...

The bus driver man engages the braking system and the bus comes to a screeching hault. The blue indicator light shines into the corner of my eye and the compressed air is realeased from the automatic doors with a si-fi hiss that sounds cool every time.
As I left the bus stepping out onto the cement sidewalk a thousand girls shouted goodbye... to their frinds, who exited along side me.

As the bus roared off leaving nothing but silence behind the three girls and I soon came across and intersection. . . of seperation! Two girls walked straight ahead toward and beyond the little white man while the third girl and I waited for the red hand to our left to dissapear.

Like a starter gun at a track meet the red hand vanashed and we were off! She had a five stride head start and by time we crossed the paved road she was only four strides ahead. I was catching up. But at this rate it would take at least 10 more drive ways just to catch up to her and another million to reach a comfortable walking distance.

NOTE:
As a long time pedestrian I urge you to avoid this "pedestrian passing" situation at all costs as it is amoung the most aquard. If your walking speed is slightly faster than the person ahead of you then eventually your going to catch up to and pass them. This is of course impossible without first trailing them for about ten hundred years as you slowly inch closer to them and you know they can hear your foot steps.

On a [Ben] cram packed city centre sidewalk as in Toronto this is no problem but in my nic of the woods pedestrians are far and few between. Which means this sort of thing happens to me all to often.

Assuring myself that speed walking looks funny anyway I decided to slow down. Now, walking unnaturaly slow I soon realized how truely boring walking really is. So in an attempt to liven things up I dropped my head and watched my feet walk.
In doing so I found four Canadian pennes.

Talking to Strangers

Standing up in preperation for the exiting of the transit bus I over heard fragments of a statement spoken by a fellow passenger standing with his two friends. Putting these fragments in context and with a simple understanding and knowledge of the imediate surroundings (the bus) I figured out what he had said. Paraphrasing here he said "...there are two seats".
I (a stranger) verbaly butted in saying quote: "He saw the reach". They laughed and I exited the bus.

Let me explain.

As mentioned above the fellow passenger and two friends are standing. This means all the seats are being sat in and therefore they must stand. Due to the bus taking 90 degree turns and abruptly stoping and accelerating the standing position is not prefered as strugle for balance and composure can be chalanging. That and standing for a long time makes your feet hurt.
When in the standing situation it is in ones best intrest to keep an eye out for the departing of seated passengers as this results in an empty seat.
I was a seated passenger. My act of standing up made my intentions of departing/exiting clear to all the standing.
Here's where it gets interesting. . .

I was the only one that stood up.

I am only one person, I occupied only one seat.
Why and why again did this fellow passenger say "...there are TWO seats"? suggesting that two seats are now availabe for two of them to sit in.
His two friends only seeing me stand up just as everyone else did also questioned their friends bold statement. "two seats?" they asked.
The man seated infront of me also was to exit the bus but how did Mr. fellow passenger know when after all this man did not stand up?
. . .
I'm draging this out to long
why am I blogging about this?

anyway, it was because he, the man seated infront of me, was the one who pulled the cord that rings the bell and lights the lamp notifying the bus drive to stop as the next marked bus stop.
So that's how fellow passenger knew because I stood up and Man pulled the cord and you never pull the cord if your not getting off, so he knew Man was getting off, even though he didn't stand up right away. In the world of transit the act of the pulling of the cord (or in some buses the pushing of the button or pressing of the yellow strip) makes you a marked one.
If you're caught pulling the cord its game over. Everyone knows your getting off at the next stop. All eyes are on you from that point on. It's the life of the transit people.

One last thing. The only reason the fellow passenger laughed when I said "He saw the reach" was because I refered to it as "the reach". Which is down right hilarious.

Learning More

A tutor.
Who needs a tutor? Tutors are for rich people, right?
Me? I'm not even sure how to spell tutor.
Get a tutor she suggests. Really.

So I got a tutor.

We have yet to meet each others aquantinsies-sis. I imagine his head/skull will be of an unusual size. Bulging with brains. You have to be smart to be a tutor. Teaching people how to do things they don't know how to do. I'm telling you, it takes brains.

It's more than likly that within a month my 'B's will be 'A's. My skills as an artist will have. . . um. . . increased. To a point of I don't know. Hey,
Check it Out:


I think this hole in my jeans is getting bigger.