Monday, January 08, 2007

Quotes Won't Make Headlines Forever

New Year business still going on—which means that there are three more examples of unexpectedness yet to provide, aren't there? Based, of course, on the tenous image—not metaphor—I used last year, that there would be towers of unknowing in 2006, places (hopefully) of unpredictability. By which I mean not only unpredictable, but unpredictably unpredictable, a Rumsfeldian not-known unknown. The bit about six means nothing, merely a number I had used to tie in the photograph I posted in last year's entry. I don't try to tie the photo into the subject any more. What happens, happens. No more hot air for the sake of hot air, right? Sure.

Most Unexpected Animal: My sister owns a gorgeous grey Persian, a ball of fur which totters around on four pillar legs, a pushed-in face, hair in his eyes like a highland steer. Did I say bright blue eyes? Thing is, my sister also takes care of a bunch of fish, a three-legged dog—a three-legged dog, may I say, which happens to have four paws—a fierce fat orange cat and a white Darth Vader-breathing cat. Also, two little boys and a baby girl. And she's pregnant. The thing about the Persian is that it needs near constant grooming, and because my sister is always busy, the poor thing's fur knots up like an Irishman's stomach in England. So her husband offered me the cat, saying, otherwise, he was going to put the little beast down. I talked to my room-mates, and only one needed persuading, but then, at the last moment, my sister had a stormy change of heart, and the upshot is that the Persian is still trying to groom the sores off its back. But I was so enamoured of having a pet that when my brother told me of his friend looking for a place for five kittens, I rushed down to his friend's acreage and picked up the softest, stripiest, smallest kitten there. Hello, Church-Yard. And that—well—that was unexpected.

Most Unexpected And Ironically-Tinged Burglary: I would have to say that I definitely did NOT expect my girlfriend's car to get broken into—but nobody expects that, right? Least of all, my girlfriend. The thing is, I live in a section of Edmonton pretty close to this-or-that knifing at the bar, this-or-that beating in the street. My girlfriend lives in a calm older suburb a good twenty clicks away. I live in a neighbourhood where you can hear the police sirens almost every night in the summer. My girlfriend lives in a neighbourhood where the sprinklers all click-whoosh at the same time. I live in a neighbourhood where the houses, many of them, are falling into their own foundations, but my girlfriend lives in a neighbourhood where renovation isn't just a hobby, it's a reason to live after retirement. So when C told me that her Sunfire had been popped open on the drivers' side, and all her little brother's mix cd's stolen, and the surface of her car damaged to the extent of a thousand dollars, I was very taken aback. As far as burglaries or break-ins go, that was one I just didn't see coming.

Most Unexpected Re-Appearance Of My Childhood: Not a person, not a return to place, no. What about a toy? What about that trailer for Transformers? I just can't get over it. So ridiculous. The movie will be trash, but we will all be going, right? My favourite toy, of course, was a Transformer, a knock off red-and-white reproduction of Optimus Prime, with a little square black head and unbending red arms. I played with that thing in our gravel driveway in Ontario for two or three solid years, I think. Making little roads in the dust for the robot to transform down. "We'll need to make a special run to Autobot City!"

That's it, then, for unexpected moments, towers of unknowing. Next week, back to the semi-regular notes on music, words about books.

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