Insight on the creative process

 What's the difference between spies and secret agents? Gymnastics and acrobatics? Kindness and being nice? Facilities and building services? 

If I'm being honest, these are the great questions in my life. If I'm being REALLY honest most of y'all wont find them too interesting. 

But for those of you: Spies are a limited version of secret agents, acrobatics are more gentle on the body and can be performed on harder surfaces, nice is kind without self-respect, and building services do not include security services. 

I can't wait to open this page in 8 years, whistle low and wonder how I could have been so wrong. 

I reckon everybody has little things like this, small distinctions that are important to them but invisible to most. 

Which reminds me... during the inside times, we were trying to identify the color of M&Ms by taste. 

Despite my diet... I think this is something we should endeavor to learn. 

Why? 

It'll seem like magic, my friends. 

Oh, and for the question that I can't seem but struggle against.... for 15 years, I have attempted and failed to answer the simple question of "What is Clown" perhaps I will have to put some thoughts down. 

But it time to head to perform Building Services, so I'm off as acrobatically as I can!

My Coffee Tastes Soapy, and That's All There is to it.

 Good Morning! 

This transition has a delay , and I'm uncertain if it will work. 

Hopefully it will allow me to keep posting deep into a run of things and stuff. 

This one's coming out less smooth than it's brethren, friends. 

I an't got the skills today, and I blame my lack of coffee. I blame my lack of coffee on me drinking it slowly. I blame drinking it slowly because it tastes like soap. I blame the soap task on account of my choice to follow tradition and now make coffee in a different vessel. 

Here's what happens when you go with tradition instead of reality. 

The Q-Ness Stirs, the Plot Thickens

 There are eldritch abominations in the world my friends. 

They've always been amongst us but they sometimes change their form. 

Sometime they wear people suits... but sometimes that's just people. 

Anyway, 

One such snake that slithers at my feet occasionally bites me. When it does I open my eyes and go, "WOAH, how did I get here?"

We've all been there, right? It's just a regular day, you get home form a normal day at work and your phone rings. 20 minutes later, you're eating tofu curry out of half a coconut shell at a friends place while people dance nakedly around you. This has never happened before, and will never happen again for the rest of your life. Somehow, the universe went click and things got weird.

We've all been there, right? 

Right?

Anyway, this is what I live for. It's like seeing life on the other side of life. 

I call this the Q-Ness. 

I find it when I'm not looking, but I find that I find it more often when I am open to finding it. 

How does one open themselves to the serendipity of the universe?

Be Curious

Say Yes

Listen

and most difficult, expect nothing. 

A Weird One Today: Form of Water!

 Good Morning! 

It is deceptively cold inside today, a marvel of modern technology. 

You think, " I'm not made of ice cream, I can wear my woolen suit to work!"

They find you after lunch, a puddle in your penny loafers. 

I used to have it figured out. loose jeans, heavy shirt - protected from the sun and a breeze would work like air conditioning. 

Well friends, not in Toronto - there's no breeze so all that extra cloth is nothing but sponge.

While sponge is rarely pleasant to wear, some times it's a necessity. 

It's awkward to get your hands dirty in linin. It's silly to get sloppy in silk. 

So I have a new plan. 

Double sized shoes - with actual sponge inside!

As you are on this side of my brain, I don't have to tell you, "No, they're not orthotics."

After lunch, I pay a guy $20 to enter my office, throw the sponges in the fridge for a couple minutes and then squeeze me out back into my penny loafers. 

I need to re-think the financials on this one... once they left me in the fridge, and ever since my assets have been frozen. 

 Good Morning,

The World Cup is about to begin again, here in my home town. 

The locals a battening down the hatches like RAGBRAI is rolling thru.

Meanwhile, math is happening at the house of Q lives. 

"Son, fractions is just division on ice." I say.

"Whaaat?" he screams in his ear piercing morning mode. "You mean they're frozen?"

"Yep. Frozen in time, Just like this song." I proceed to sing a blues ballad I made up in fifth grade about knowing fractions. 

He's not impressed. He is now singing Jingle Bells with meows. 

Well, a 1/3 of the household is amused. With numbers like that, I can run for office! 

More likely I'ma make a run to the grocery store. 

If you follow sport, I hope your team wins. 

Later!

Again?

 Hello, 

Back in the ancient days, when the towers were standing, I was deep in the process of trying to get ahead in life when I didn't know my ass from a tea kettle. 

Truth be told, I still carry the scars from toilet paper bursting into flame as i tried to wipe the boiling vessel. 

During those times, my patron looked me over his glasses and said, "Q, if you burn down my theatre, I will hate you forever." 

This was my patron. This was my friend. There was next to zero chance that such a situation would occur. and yet he said the words that I needed to hear at the time: "Hey Guy, this thing we do is dangerous and there are major consequences if you fuck it up." 

I'm a dad now, and he's a little boiling tea kettle of energy. His mother and I try to follow my patrons advice. We point out the consequences of actions, and we give him guidelines on how to proceed safely into the world - often spinning. Seven years and zero broken bones later.. it seem to be working. However, the kid really wants a skateboard, so we shall see. 

And it's time for work. Projects for today include maintenance on fire emergency systems. Fun stuff. 

Until next time, my Friends.

So,

What do you think? Should I continue to write here, where no one is looking? I must admit that's it's tempting to become more public with my words, but Zita is my Jimminey Cricket and pulls me from the brink of putting things onto the Internet that i will regret later.

But seriously, if you are out there, what do you want to hear?

A short one today.

I finished my half pint of Mill Street Organic and stumbled into the street. Before me was a butt, only half used! I’m not proud. Soon I had it lit with a loonie in my pocket to spare! It was warm that day, a good one to be wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirts. Once I finished my butt, I found myself in the library. I cracked open a book, but stopped caring in the middle of the first chapter. I crossed the street as the light was turning yellow. It was beginning to freezing rain. I hurried back to my home, half a block away from the library.

And… it fizzles out. That’s okay. That’s the theme of this particular story.