gabrihell's kitchen

Things I Notice All The Time...

Sat, 01 Apr 2006 14:02:12 GMT

Artist: Fiona Apple
Album: Extraordinary Machine
Title: Extraordinary Machine

I certainly haven't been shopping for any new shoes
And I certainly haven't been spreading myself around
I still only travel by foot and by foot it's a slow climb
But I'm good at being uncomfortable so I can't stop changing all the time

I noticed that my opponent is always on the go
And won't go slow so as not to focus and I notice
He'll hitch a ride with any guide as long as they go fast from whence he came
But he's no good at being uncomfortable so he can't stop staying exactly the same

If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me or treat me mean
I make the most of it I'm an extraordinary machine

I seem to you to seek a new disaster every day
You deem me due to clean my view and be at peace and lay
I mean to prove I mean to move in my own way
And say I've been getting along for long before you came into the play

This is what being ecclectic gets me...

Sun, 26 Feb 2006 12:19:49 GMT

Your Musical Tastes Match: Weird Al

See his whole playlist here (iTunes required)

What Celebrity Matches Your Taste in Music?

Spitting, Hitting, & Befitting

Sun, 26 Feb 2006 12:06:35 GMT

Due to the fact that I have gotten into the lousy habit of eating and then falling asleep almost immediately upon the final mastication, my dreams have been of such a realistic calibre that I have taken to viewing them as merely tweaked out extensions of my waking life.

For example, last night, I was dreaming that some weird guy I don't know and I were talking amicably enough in the bathroom at my parent's lakeside cabin about his relationship while I washed my face in the sink (this kind of thing happens all the time.) I remember pooling water into my hands and having my face bent toward the warm water ready to be splashed onto my face***.

Here comes the best part! After I splashed my face with water, I spit the water that had gotten into my mouth back into the "sink", which was really just my pillowcase, and quite nearly, Steve's face.

I opened one eye, grimaced, and felt a tres gros pool of spittle slide down my cheek and into my hair.

As I laid there for a moment, relishing the fact that Sleeping-G had totally pulled a fast one on Awake-G and made me spit on myself in my sleep, I hear the distinct sounds of zoo animals stampeding upstairs. Wait...no, it's Eee Bee, but she's definitely not alone!

Finally, the toys have come alive!!!

(I fuckin' wish. Unless they were like Chucky, or the Nutcracker. That would be lame. Mostly, I just want the Playmobil to come alive. I'm curious to know what they think about all the times I've set them up in fun, utopian little scenarios where they live in a sustainable community with no need for meatheaded hierarchy/oligarchy power structures because everyone is living in harmonious co-exisitence. Gabrihell & Eee Bee Playmobil.)

Then with the barfing. First, stampeding, then, barfing. We are not a vomitous family. There has got to be something pretty fucking severe happening if we are heaving. So, I sleepily wipe the spittle out of my hair and go and hold her hair for three or four hours, give or take.

On another, less graphic, note, Miss Alisa and I are taking our homemade passports and going to watch some kick-ass
ROLLERDERBY next weekend! Who doesn't love some cross-border action? Andweareprobablygoingtogoshoppingandbuycorsetsandshoesandifyouarereadingthisyouareproablyareallycuriouslittledevilarentyou?

*** I hope this dream wasn't a strange extension of the bukkake conversation I had yesterday...

Idjits

Wed, 18 Jan 2006 19:31:01 GMT

Every so often, the Teflon Ninja needs to be resurrected and make an appearance (kind of like that Springtime zombie fella with the bunny rabbit sidekick that everyone is always going on about).

But the Teflon Ninja is for very special occasions.

Not that rabbits laying eggs isn't a special occasion, per se, but let's stick to the Ninja for now (or at least try).

During a particularly adhesive situation many moons ago, the Teflon Ninja was born, of necessity, as most good mothers and inventions (and bunny rabbits) are also. My fair sister and I were discussing the irrational behaviour of one of our select irrational behaviourists, and collectively, the concept of the Teflon Ninja was borne.

It is a simple philosophy that can be used as an offensive maneuver (preferably politely!), or, if the situation requires, a defensive mechanism to avoid the impending discourteous situation of stockpiling weapons and munitions and "July-Firsting" (not -fisting) the nusiance to smithereens.

The Teflon Ninja can be a verbal mediator; a physical soother; a free pass to not accept someone else's B.S.; an emotional crutch; a Diplomatic Ambassador to the Land of Stupidity and Ignorance that casts Light and Knowledge where there was only, well, stupidity and ignorance; a conversational tactic; as well as many other things. All of which assign the wearer of the Teflon Ninja guard the enviable position of being secure in the belief that if "this too shall (not) pass (quick enough)," well, I sure as hell am not going to be responsible for this mess any more than I have to be.

By that description, you can see how the Teflon Ninja could perhaps be used for the process of evil, to delight sinister motives and designs. Well, that is the risk that one takes in awareness. Sometimes, innocence turns foul.

Be strong in purpose and go forth. Do not attempt to anger or goad the children of the Teflon Ninja.

Quit trying to lodge your sickening, unhealthy viral angst in the nooks and crannies of other people, because sometimes, the Teflon Ninja is on holidays in a remote mountain village with no telephone.

And sometimes, those stockpiles of explosives are bigger than you could have ever imagined.

And sometimes, the typo on the memo just might read: "July-Fisting."

This Subcataneous Membrane

Tue, 22 Nov 2005 19:14:11 GMT

Any time I go to a movie theatre, the lights begin to dim, and the blackness of an unfamiliar room, with unfamiliar people, watching unfamiliar stories begins to fill the unfamiliar spaces in my imagination, and for some strange reason, I cry. Not in a loud, obnoxious sobbing, wringing of the hands kind of way. It's more this ability of mine to get sucked into a story, a series of details, another person's headspace and mood that sets off these tears. The story doesn't even have to be the least bit sad at all. It's the crawling into all the unfamiliarity that is so goddamned intrusive and causes these reactionary convulsions. Yet, I still like to go see movies. The smell of the popcorn is somewhat soothing.

I feel sucked up. There are so many, so very many, reasons.

Lawyers fill me with this sick dread. I suppose all those jokes and warnings, tales over the water coolers of life, as it were, have seeped into my subconscious. My subcataneous subconscious. I feel the notion of relying on someone else as a bit of a weakness, and the fact that these people have such a lecherous reputation doesn't really ease these concerns much.

It seems somehow too coincidental that bullies can come in all shapes and sizes; that they can morph and evolve and lunge into these places that are supposed to be so safe. Perhaps the most insiduous of all the facts, fallacies and realities of bullying is that it's mostly done without the perpetraitor knowing they are even doing harm.

I find that to be a little hard to believe this foggy morning.

I Have My First Mullet!

Fri, 18 Nov 2005 23:58:02 GMT

Carpal Tunnelling my way through the muck!

Went to do the natural thing people do when life is in disarray. Went to get a drastic haircut.

When a person who has long, straight hair (hair that is, for the most part, all one length) enters a salon/barbershop/hair sculpting business, you can be sure that there is a certain thought going through all the hair stylists communal minds: Is she gonna let us hack it all off today???

And I did.

The first time in about 3 weeks that my mind was completely blank and not amok with frenzied planning, to-do lists, time management concepts, malarky and general WTF!?!? was had while the lovely hair guru massaged my head in the most divine fashion. I almost fell asleep while she blowdried my hair. These things are of no consequence to anyone who happens upon this page, I realize, but it is soothing for me to remember such a time. So if you happen to read this and think to yourself, "Blah Blah Blah," well, you go get your head massaged and tell me it isn't fucking cool.

The general concept is that I have an advanced, 21st century mullet. I am now the dubious owner of a hairstyle that requires some maintenance, which also calls for some of this sticky goo that people call hairspray. And a brushing technique referred to as backcombing. It's all bringing back hazy, surreal memories of a time long, long ago, when slouch socks, gooey candy pink lipstick, and banana clips ruled.

Ah, the sweet cycle of hairdos.

Tue, 15 Nov 2005 21:39:20 GMT

Sometimes in life, one has to fill out forms. Right at this very moment in my life, there are no less than 14 organizations that I am currently working with to inform them of every wee nuance and detail of my existence in the form of paperwork. Bundles, sheaths, piles, swaths, clumps, scraps, mountains, molehills, and fire hazards that would make Fire Suppression Agents spontaneously combust in horror, fill every file folder, table, and waking thought. It's beyond ridiculous!

The ability for anyone to steal my identity at this juncture would be too easy--just follow me around for an hour to all these weird appointments and wait until I drop a three thousand page synopsis of my dental history (or whatever it is that these organizations have gotten me to divulge; I have moved beyond recognizing the dashes, digits and designs that make up language). I will be eagerly anticipating the moment that I can utter the well-oiled phrase, "This Too Shall Pass" and actually believe it.

After a splendid evening with the ladies of K-Town to invigorate, inspire and motivate, I am a~buzz with all this potential energy to branch out in my life. My art, for one thing, has been deprived of time. No more. There are some photographs that need to be taken, and some subject matter that has yet to be explored in this universe. I also have brainstormed with Miss Clever herself in regards to developing some new curriculum for the school, with a really innovative and holistic approach that is very unique. Exciting, but also kind of intimidating! Time will tell. I am just really feeling like there are small blessings in my life right now, and that I had beeter make them as advantageous as possible.

Waking up at 5a.m. all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (much to S. and E.'s delight, I am certain!) is a sign of some people wanting to get a bit of a jump on the day. I went grocery shopping before I even took E. to school. I can honestly say that I have never felt an urge to do that before. Because I was sleeping. Which is what normal people would be doing then. But nobody ever accurately accused me of being such...

Hawaii, Luaus, Paupau Platters, Leis (on the beach, on the boat, in the backroom of a grass-skirt import store...wherever!) isn't seeming like some far-off pipe dream anymore. Passports in hand, hula technique mastered, and enough desire to get outta town to propel the fucking airplane; I might not ever return!

You Can All Thank The Flying Spaghetti Monster Now:

Fri, 04 Nov 2005 19:54:14 GMT

This Just In:

http://www.venganza.org/

His Noodly Appendage, indeed!

Fri, 04 Nov 2005 19:27:54 GMT

Things I am Thankful For:

* Heaters that Work and Fuzzy Blankets
* Purple Grape Juice
* My Family
* The New Pornographers
* Potential
* That "This Too Shall Pass" Is In My Lexicon
* Compassionate Smiles and Hugs from my Loves
* Garageband
* Safety Nets
* Faraway Friends with Humour To Spare
* Hallowe'en Candy
* "The Cheque Is In The Mail..."
* Quietude, when it's desired
* Art, Art, Art, Art, Art!!!

My sistah and I went on a much-needed outing to a printmaking workshop the other night in a ramshackle building at the end of a dark, dead-end street with burnt out streetlights, and a lot of potential mugger-hiding bushes. Paranoia becomes me. As do run-on sentences. As I was on about, the printmaking workshop was run by a delightful female who had a D.I.Y. ethic that went beyond frugality, delving into a compulsive fanaticism rarely seen, with regard to the three (or four, depending on your stance) R's--Reduce, Reuse, Recycle (and sometimes "Regift").

The basic premise of her instruction was so simple, with materials that can be found so ridiculously easily, that I was shocked that I hadn't stumbled upon this method on my own! I made a supremely tight little screen, and a suprisingly detailed wee design with a nailpolish brush (my steady hand is wasted, considering all the uninvested time in neurosurgery), and the font I made was so delicate that it didn't show up quite as well as it could have. But the fire has been fueled, and I am all a~flutter to screen print my wildest desires and demented graphic notions on any unclaimed surface! Evil laughter inserted here is redundant.

Thu, 27 Oct 2005 22:42:47 GMT

Just in case there was any doubt as to WHO the Salad Queen is/was, it is I.

There is almost every delicious vegetable/non-vegetable item in this bowl, and my tastebuds are rather pleased with my action.

* Red and Green leaf lettuce (thank you, MissElizabeth, for introducing us)
* Red Pepper
* Avocado
* Carrots
* Cucumber
* Shredded Fucking Beets
* Salmon (smoked)
* Sunflower Seeds
* Fresh Spinach
* Feta Cheese
* Lovely Dill Dressing

*sigh*

I think that I have topped myself this time.

Tue, 18 Oct 2005 03:58:43 GMT

Going to Van-tuber to see the phantomic Pelican (!expletives!), Opeth (!happy expletives!), Fireball Ministry (!mismatched slot, + expletives!), and S.T.R.E.E.T.S. (!sigh, expletives!) is the kind of holiday that I am going to start selling in package deals to the rocker contingient.

For example: tickets to a show, beer coupons, taxi credits to ferry oneself betwixt drinking locales in the rain (with a list of reputable cab companies and hours of operation for all establishments within a 30 block radius, give or take...), a list of restaurants that are inexpensive and delicious, and Fiona and Clayton's phone number, and maybe their incorrect address, just for "fun."

True friends let you enjoy the colour of your sensational sushi, but ultimately realize that you would prefer it cooked, and then offer to do just that for you. And then true friends give you their amazingly comfortable, cozy, beautiful room to sleep in, and then you never want to leave. But you do leave, knowing htat you can return the favour next time they come to visit, which is hopefully before 2006.

Opeth must leave a trail of blissed-out, twinkling-eyed, rockingly-opiated couplings in their wake everywhere they go. Their music is a magnificent union of ridiculously romantic sweetness, and screamingly hell-bent slicing metal that fuses into this unique, beautiful, genetic mutant. The dulaity of Opeth produces this love child that I imagine as a H. R. Giger image reciting handsome, 18th century poetry. Cold/warm, yin/yang, you get what I am delivering.

And now, I must get a robotic arm!

Thu, 13 Oct 2005 23:06:51 GMT

Alo-fucking-Ha!

Palm Trees for Christmas. That sounds all right to me.

Sun, 25 Sep 2005 05:21:44 GMT

I am almost, but not quite, intimidated by making an entry now. After such a long break, how does one segue with grace into the oblivious non-mattering?

The raccoons. They are infiltrating my backyard on a nightly basis. The squeaking, tweaking, freaking noises are almost soothing me to sleep at this point. The squabbles that the raccoons engage in are growling, meanacing street (yard?) fights of territory and mating rituals that trancend my happening to hear. I am still convinced that a baby raccoon could be brought up to be a house pet of considerable standards, but in that belief I am alone.

Garageband. What can I say? I am making techno music with 60's guitar riffs that bring to mind Emma Peel and the Avengers. I insret harmonicas and djembe drums into totally masochistic sequences that truly test my ability to mesh things. It has become a pastime to rival Rollercoaster Tycoon (thankfully).

Beyond these trivial matters, I see no need to splash anything else here for now. Swim amongst the sharks, now, and I will meet you in the lily pads.

Sat, 06 Aug 2005 07:04:33 GMT

There is one that stews,
And then there is one that do-s...

The sun can't heat my skin enough.

My teened nieces are in town, and they remind me of how unfar I have really come from being a teened myself. It is so fun to hang out with them! I was teaching the older of the two how to play some bass, and now she has the bee in her (Lisa) Bonet.

I wish someone would have sat me down as a young lass and forced me to awaken my latent rocking self. Maybe then I wouldn't be such a regressed "adult".

Regressing? Regressing HOW?

Sat, 23 Jul 2005 19:34:40 GMT

Dear Neil Fallon,

See you on Tuesday.

I will be the one in red.

Love, G

Big Business, Indeed!

Tue, 12 Jul 2005 11:52:51 GMT

A little bit of forewarning would have been helpful; this barrage of getting punched in the face by and/or with lemons might have not so unsteadied me so I could better handle all the rolling around in lemonade that is required of me right now, had I gotten a "Let's Get It On!" a la MXC.

DELUGED!

Christo, it's only the Monday!

Watermelon=Guud
Cigarettes (unfortunately)=Guud

There are a few camps I could entertain with regards to these aforementioned situations. I am leaning toward the "Feigned DIsinterest", or the "Mildly Disconnected Third Party" route. Both have nonchalance as their base, which will probably save me from the result that I am trying to avoid: blubbering like a lost cause.

Only so long as I can keep my wits about me, as my father so oftentimes advised and encouraged in his girls, perhaps I can
meanders on my
knees and handers
without losing grip of
this albatross of stupidity.

I was going to type "Everything will be fine." But you know what? FIne just does not cut it with me. I am not into trite, petty, uselessly insignificant words to describe My Stuff (as opposed to Hillary Duff's) like "Fine" or "Good" or "Nice".

(Guud, as used abovely, is in a totally separate place from the Good we are all familiar with, by the by.)

It's somewhat amusing to watch resiliency in action. After all that, one still just carries onward. What other options are there that aren't based in total lunacy and selfishness?

I am reminded of ants, walking in a line; momentarily confused by a fleck in his/her passage, peeks to the left, peeks to the right, takes a couple steps, and finds a circuitous route to satisfy the quest.

Insomnia is the only thing that is saving me from taking that Swan Dive right now.

That, and I am so damned curious to see how this minor mess is going to pan out, it's like my own little personal cliffhanger!

How Gay!

And just to prove that I am not indeed phased too deeply about these attempted matters of chaos and destruction, here are some recent other writings by the exact same gabrihell as this one on the exact same day:

"...I felt connected. I felt bittersweetness. I felt I needed to know more. I felt giggly at the thought of you (whoever you are out there) putting these symbols and images and thoughts and details together. I felt awake. I felt like I was dreaming being awake..."

"...Suddenly I hear this voice that perks up my ears. Music that makes me smile (with my lips closed, of course, as I had some food all in there). I turn up the volume and sit back, instantly noticing how the view I described above morphed before my eyes..."

"...Serendipity has been lounging around tossing air balls in my direction all week long..."

"my task is sorting through all the thousands of book donations we receive. It is a lovely occupation for a book nerd such as myself, so I am content. And I get to pick interesting books (among other oddities) to peruse based not on what is available at the new shops, but on a more random scale of what someone has decided to pass along.

I like the randomness..."

See? Everything is smooth like ocean glass.

Fri, 08 Jul 2005 00:56:53 GMT

Sweet patats w/ a caesarian section salad seem to be beckoning....

How Odd...

Thu, 07 Jul 2005 23:27:10 GMT

Smallest evidence of entry.
A speck of blood indicating the flow before.
Where were you when it came?
Fluids, like secrets, all knowing.
Symbols creating shapes out of memories.
Bound to the symptoms of our curse.

Where were you when it drowned us?

The Call

Thu, 30 Jun 2005 06:13:27 GMT

Remarkable things happen when you are receptive to The Call.

After a lovely dinner and fancy, tropical girly drinks with the Boy, we came back to my house utterly exhausted. Sleep beckoned with its lure of relief from the day, and I submitted.

I wake up, unkown hours later. The open window has allowed the room to become cool and dark with the summer evening, and I have cravings floating within my being that are a welcome relief, as I know they are all easily satisfied by a small walk to the Little Store, as I like to call it.

As I dressed, layered thoughts and images of my life and all the nuances of beauty it holds, filtered through me. I felt calm and happy, and receptive to bliss. A goofy chat with a neighbour on my walk intensified my delight, and as I rounded the corner to the Little Store, I grinned like a cheshire cat.

My Little Store worker greeted me pleasantly, as is the custom, and we chatted for a moment about movies and things that made us laugh, and then I noticed the store. Something was different about it. The lights were hitting the wall differently, the wall of mivies previously occupying a certain space were moved, and in their place.....

A FUCKING ICE CREAM PARLOUR.

I almost crawled over to the ice cream counter in awe and reverence, but wiser heads prevailed, and I sauntered (as is my custom) over to meet the new kid in town. Small selection of flavours, but oh! What is this? Maple Walnut? I have seen you around before. I don't usually pay much mind to you, do I, Maple Walnut? But tonight, something is different, and I know you can feel it, too, Maple Walnut.

It was the shortest ice cream cone in the history of the universe, and thoroughly enjoyed and savoured for each minute second that it lasted.

I love you, Maple Walnut!

Sat, 25 Jun 2005 08:44:03 GMT

There is always so much to share that I get overwhelmed and forget the good parts. I will try to slow down, smell the asphalt, and breathe out my messages.

I have been writing down some interesting things, lately, one of which is a bible reference that I am only slightly familiar with. It might be a band name, too, as it sounds kind of like it could be used well in that regard. Leviticus 13.

Science World makes me wish that I liked science more. It also makes me wonder why I don't have a Kalliroscope table, bed, couch and everything else I could possibly Kalliroscope.

It's amusing how life goes along at a reasonable pitch, and then "Wrench Incoming!!!!!!!!" makes for some adjustments. There is a knack and beauty and grace to being able to roll with punches. It's a process.

All I can say about that bank card fiasco is that I am now appreciating that little hunk of plastic in a way that I could almost describe as awe.

The Girls Are Hot Tonight....

Sat, 11 Jun 2005 05:30:38 GMT

I love girlfriends!

Yay for girls!

Isn't it so?

Tue, 07 Jun 2005 01:50:00 GMT

Sometimes it is just so easy to lose faith.

People can be crummy, life can get heavy, weird and complicated, and situations arise that seem unbearable.

And then, sometimes, a miraculous little shimmer of wonder can come into your life and radiate the bejeezus out of any faithlessness you might have entertained.

Ice Cream is like that for me.

Sun, 05 Jun 2005 23:59:43 GMT

The past week has made for some interesting realizations, if not utter hallucinations. And cleansing perspirations!

I had a very interesting dream about Mexican Wrestlers (they were all very polite). They sat waiting, patiently, in full costume, in a small room off an entryway, like in a grandma's house. Lots of small-flower patterns. And the Mexican Wrestlers sat on a small couch, all squished up together, tightly shoulder-to-shoulder, hands clasped in leathered laps, waiting.

And Maddox's recent uplifting diatribe about Why He Hates Cameron Diaz helped my kidney grow a bulletproof forcefield. Because fuckers are always trying to shoot out my kidney's now, thinking that they have some secret window onto my Achillies Heel or something.

I said: "Sorry, a little graphic maybe. Honesty gets like that."

Sat, 21 May 2005 10:30:04 GMT

Well.....Hello, Gordon.

We meet again.

What a FUCKING PITY.

I cannot believe how aggressively retarded the collective voters of this province are!

Stunning display of backwards thinking!

P.S. Don't watch Punch Drunk Love. It will make you want to cavort with and antagonize raccoons whilst strawberry jam drips off your face, and tantalizing foods that raccoons love dangle from your soon-to-be-maimed fingertips-es.

Cake (Who Is Making My???)

Tue, 17 May 2005 21:21:01 GMT

Hello May!

Goodbye Gordon Campbell (you sleazy asswipe)!

Not much of the updating lately, but I have been verily engrossed with life. Don't ask for details, because I probably will draw blanks, but suffice it to say that Ms. ~hell has finally mustered up the linguistic aptitude to jot here today.

Thirty, upon waking, feels good. REALLY good!

Had a little commemorative beach party on Saturday with lots of lovely happy people, and felt this amazing, satisfying wave of bliss from being surrounded with my people. Warm fire (I didn't even "hotch" it once!!!), some guitars and drums, some Poi Dancing, and lots and lots and lots of jawing! I like talkers. It was evident to anyone who showed up that night.

Opened the mailbox and found some EXCELLENT things in there; HOLY FUCK! My dear mumsy and pa tater sent some money to fuel my erratic spending, as well as a whole slew of photos documenting me in various incarnations of sElf, and a sweet card (I think they might love me a little bit); lovely QoTSA tank that I am going to have to restrain myself from wearing every single day, plus some new music (Yay, Nolan!); a delightful little card from a faraway friend with a photo of her wildly growing baby that I STILL haven't sent the package to, and it's been sitting around here for a too much big long time....As well as The Spinal Tap DVD, and the new Spiderbait cd, and a pretty bauble that looks as though it had been harvested from the bottom of a glorious ocean from my boy, a couple drunken phonecalls, and a visit from my K-Town (now V-Town) peeps totally rounded out my feelings of gooey bliss.

I am a sap for a birthday.

Now that I am in the third decade of my (g.d. fleeting!) life, it's time to revamp some stuff. First up, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh, deglut!!!!

More on that later.

Happy Birthday Monique Wrinch!