In Fair Toronto Where We Lay Our Scene...

Nameless Computer Company incorrectly ships an expensive laptop to our store. The destination was clearly not supposed to be our address. We call Nameless Computer Company and inform them of the problem. We also call Mr. X at Computer Retailer Elsewhere Far and let them know that Nameless Computer Company is not only nameless but brainless and that we have his machine which he may pick up at any time. You're welcome.

Mr. X at Computer Retailer Elsewhere Far gets in his vehicle and travels 4 hours to our destination to pick up his mis-delivered machine as suggested. Upon arrival, he is highly disgruntled and very inappropriate to me and my colleagues. I inform him that my protocol is strictly to ensure that the right machine has finally reached the right person and can he please sign a photocopy of the packing slip (he gets the original), leave a business card bearing his name and business and lastly, show photo identification proving his claim. To this, he declares that I am, "A miserable little shit. This is fucking bullshit. I just drove four hours etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc etc..."

To this, our retail manager forces him out of our establishment telling him that if this were not a place of business, the consequences for such misplaced abuse would be far more severe.

Its times like these that I am reminded why I no longer wish to work in a manner that directly relates to customers.

Also? Dear Mr. X at Computer Retailer Elsewhere Far,

I have words of advice to aid you with your future encounters with any actual human beings out there:




Kill yourself.




This is not a joke. If you cannot realize who fucked up your order and further cannot understand that making you sign and prove your identity means insurance for BOTH you AND my company and that by doing so, we are doing you a service, your problem is much larger and more deeply seeded than is apparent on your surface. Perhaps you do not consume enough roughage to remain regular. I have just the best home remedy for you. Drink at least a quart of Drano. Kerosene would work too. Yup. That's right. Alternately, I recommend chewing thoroughly and swallowing a 4 ft florescent bulb so that your rotting insides are scraped clean with enough abrasive digging action to cure us of your continued existence.

Lastly, should you choose to heed my advice, please do not procreate before following through. I really wouldn't want to have to write this letter twice.


Most Sincerely,
Hubris Humility

Updates, Impatience and the Stunning High of Singing Live

First off, Happy HNT. The blue hair was fun but it fades so quickly. I think next time I'll try another brand of dye. After a week of not refreshing the colour, it had become kind of a moldy green. Initially when I bleached it off, it did exactly what I had hoped which was to be blonde as phuck with neat highlights of green. That too has faded and now its looks like this:



Many things have been progressing in these dreamy endeavors since I last wrote.

Despite a financial crisis as of late, I have been reorganizing priorities and goals. Keeping my heart set on where I want to be. Repairing the classical guitar as I had meant to do, has been put aside for a while. I have replaced this goal with practicing guitar regardless of stupid frets. It has become at least a 30 minute per day activity. Clear tones are still difficult to make but my muscle memory to hit chord changes in time is getting far better. Calluses have begun to develop on the tips of my fingers which really helps with the soreness after practice. With playing around with different chord shapes around the fret board, I have been finding chords I didn't think I knew and in some cases, even recognizing the names thanks to my continued study of music theory while on the public transit system.

Here's a part I am really excited about. With playing simple chord changes without trying to mimic a song, I have found a chord progression that I do not recognize. It has become my first song. It is early stages 100% and certainly not finished but it has begun and it is from my mind and fingers. Now. Every song is ten other songs for sure. I'm not breaking musical ground here. It may be that when someone hears it, they will instantly be reminded of a similar song. So be it. That happens all the time... Unless you're Efrim Menuck. And seriously, if you have time for the second half of this song, by all means, indulge. I'd take the beating of my life to be allowed to sing for this man. I may have linked these before but I don't recall... Anyway, I'm sure you get the tremendous influence that he and his cohorts have impressed upon me.

So, practicing guitar is going well. Also with Jam Nights! The last two jam nights at the Unicorn, just steps away from my house, have been stellar! Two weeks ago, the guitarist, says to me, "Here's my number. Give me a call-- NO! Harass me and tell me what songs you want to do that coming Wednesday." *blink blink* Sweet :D They like me enough that they look forward to playing songs outside their regular set. So I called just a couple days before the Jam that happened a week ago and let him know that I'd really like to do Down in a Hole by Alice in Chains, Sober by Tool and Somebody Told Me by The Killers.

That Wednesday came and during their first set (first of three), normally reserved for just them on stage, they asked for requests to which I shouted, "SUCK MY KISS!" (Chili Peppers for you non rock lovers out there). The bassist looks at me and touches his throat and says, "I can play it but aahh! my voice is a little twitchy today. Do you know the words?" *pff* "You betcha." *internally thinking, "is the pope catholic"* "Well come on up and show us then." *Hubris glee ensues* He adds, "Alright everyone, this is a little out of our normal rotation but y'all gotta hear this guy." I blush as I unwrap the mic from the stand. I missed only the beginning of the second verse but the rest went flawlessly and the growing crowd approved loudly at the end. Immediately following this the guitarist says, "Well as long as we got you here is there something you'd like us to play?" "Down in a Hole, thanks." This one went much better. I love hitting notes like that. Vocal sex.

Following that song, they asked me to do two others that I had either never sang before or at least hadn't sang since I was 17 years old. Black Hole Sun and... fuck what was the other... Ah. Alive by Pearl Jam. Although it was evident that it was my first time singing those last two live, they were still well received by the crowd and the band was delighted that I could complete what they wanted to do.

So last night we covered Sober - Tool, Somebody Told Me - Killers, Down in a Hole - AIC and Black - Pearl Jam. The latter two of the four went very well. Sober, which I really wanted to nail, didn't bomb but didn't connect either. I was so psyched that I actually got to do it that I went from the first verse straight into the chorus skipping the shit out of the bridge. Ah, well. That said, the remainder of the song went the way it should have. Next time Gadget. Next Time.

It really doesn't help that the attractive wait staff and I share similar musical tastes ;) More than this, I love it. Intensely. I love it even more when others love it with me. At the last three jam nights I have attended, I have been asked by different strangers if I am currently singing for a band. So far, I can only reply that no, I am not. I listen for those key parts of conversation that allow for networking and name spreading so that I can rectify that. I also peruse craigslist frequently to see what people are looking for and if it suits what I want to do.

I'm still waiting to hear from the band that I visited a month ago. The interview went well as did the small examples I gave of my singing as the guitarist played his material. I ask if he wants to meet for drinks sometime and quietly slip in the fact that I am waiting to hear back from him and that I am still very interested. This of a sort that isn't over the top. I think once per two weeks is enough to get the point across without annoying the shit out of him. I keep in contact with him because he seems like a straight up kinda guy. I expect that he would tell me if I wasn't in the running because that is exactly what he said he'd do before we even met. It stands that I believe I have a great shot so far for the same reasons - he was impressed and told me so adding that if he wasn't he'd have the balls to say so to my face - but I must admit that I am growing a little impatient. He certainly has as busy a schedule as all of us and he wants to visit all options before making a decision. Fair enough. However, I originally thought that I should let this opportunity pan out before continuing the search for a band. I am beginning to think otherwise. The more folks who hear my singing, the more I realize I'm not starting from the bottom. I have stage presence, excellent pitch and control. And I cannot wait to practice with an original act and play a real show.

Brutal

Well. Words broke. Here. Have instead a post called: Bored at Work #752

















HHNT From HH

Faces of Clarity - An Easy Book to Read

My face. Its expressions. My eyes and the directions they wander. All of it is open. Perfectly clear for all to read. No exceptions. If you think I'm feeling a certain way that I am not, it is because you simply didn't look at my face. Didn't study for a brief moment what it tells you. Its not that I willfully make myself this way - so open, so vulnerable. Its that my face and eyes within will quite honestly betray everything that I wish to play close to my chest.

I have been told this is a good thing but I am not so sure. I have been emotionally compared to dogs. That forlornness you can see in their eyes, the way their body moves when they are happy or excited, the tail under their legs when they feel inferior or frightened. Tell tails. My own set of emotions rage and change so quickly. They spike from extreme to extreme - an ocean motion printed simple and bold like a child's storybook across the muscles and skin that I show to the world each day. My employers sense the depression, fatigue and boredom. They do not yet fire me because I show up and deliver enough productivity. My lover can tell when I am upset or cranky even when I try my damnedest to get over it or keep it to myself for fear of taking it out on her or the kids.

The fuct up part about this is that almost everyone I speak with regularly can read me this way. It is not a two way street either. I cannot yet read them in turn. I've been told that I am way too easy to convince. Unfortunate if you ask me because if I am so easy to convince, then I am largely accepting what people say and taking it at face value. Why shouldn't I? Oh. Right. The lies, fibs, good intentions never to be followed through upon, the misinformation, the assumptions, the uneducated guesses and even the un-educated guesses. Strange to think I am the one who needs to adjust to discern all this shit. Like my value or the value of my skills. Like wether I'll be told if I make the cut for an audition as opposed to never receiving a call. How to do things and how to live my life. I wonder that I may be receptive to everyone's suggestions because I don't feel I've really gotten it right so far. What to learn to increase my job worth... The list could clearly go on.

So what's the big fucking secret that nobody knows yet so may seem to connect with? Like getting a good job. To me, I wonder where to begin. So I ask. I take it for truth. "Go get a degree." Okay, did that. No job. So I ask others because all the books and internet will tell me is to network *gives finger to nepotism and other time honored practices* Others say, "Here is where you are now, where do you want to be? Here's how to get there... You will have to commit all free time. Other hobbies and interests shall be cast aside. This is what I had to do so surely it is how you should do it too."

You had me buying that shit. For a night, I believed that you were right and that your way is the path for me. I have a lover. She is willing to shake me and be stubbornly point out how I accept what I am told. Though I could be making the same assumptions from what she tells me, the difference is that I trust her implicitly.

Quite honestly, I still have never found a job I WANT to do. What I want to do is own a home with no fucking by-laws and rules about where and when I can cook raw meat outdoors. I WANT to work for ENOUGH pay to stay out of work as much as possible and still afford getting out of debt, groceries, road trips and beer runs. Still, since I was little, they all ask, "But what do you WANT TO BE?"

A singer. Can we now please move on to a way to actually make enough time and money while I try to be a fucking singer?

Myself and friends and lovers have wanted to be one of the following:

A rock singer
An author
A philosopher
An actor
A director
A poet
A painter
A comic book writer

Buy a lotto ticket. It may be as easy to do these things for a living.

I didn't choose rock singer because I want to shirk real jobs though that is a perk if you're selling enough. I chose it because even without practice, without gigging or recording, without much progress of any kind so far, I'm better at it than anything that has ever captured my brief or full interest. The designer, the inventory specialist, the customer service agent, the carpenter, the house cleaner. All these are skills of various levels within my talent. None compare to the ability and enthusiasm I can spit at you from behind a mic. It makes me happy. In fact, the last time I came home from Jam Night, MD said that I smelled like sex. I was that ecstatic.

BTW, happy 4th of July for all you non-ex-patriots out there.

Music: Quarantined - At The Drive In