The House that Burned Down

The House that Burned Down was the second house I've lived in; it was a brick house on Weber Street. We moved there when I was quite young, around 4 years old. The day we arrived is one of my fondest memories. It was a sunny summer day, the lavender-coloured lilacs which lined the side of the driveway giving off their lovely scent. On the wooden porch to the side of the door, we had a large vase filled with dried, long-stalked thistles. The backyard was quite long (to my small mind, anyway). The chain link fence on the left side was lined with rose bushes, and a swing made from rope and a big white pail hung from the tree on the right. I used that swing once to get away from an army of fire ants. There was a tree fort built onto a stump in the back corner; it didn't get much use, and eventually became a ruins. My father had a vegetable garden out back, which I would sometimes help him with (by eating the veggies- the raw broccoli was amazing, as was the rhubarb).

I lived there for about two years, just prior to starting kindergarten, before my parents split up and my mother, sister and I moved into the co-op. My sister and I visited my father every other weekend. One night, my father was washing a bunch of kale to give to friends. He went out back, leaving the tap running; the sink overflowed, flooding the kitchen. I stood on a chair yelling for him. This may have also been the night we were nearly scared to death watching the Gooey Gus episode of Ghost Writer...My father often took us to McDonald's, and we'd sit out back on the picnic table in the summer, playing with the happy meal toys (which still came in a box).

At some point, my father's girlfriend was varnishing a dresser or something, and the house caught fire. She said she didn't know what happened, though she was a smoker, and none too bright...Regardless, no one was hurt, but the house was destroyed. We got to see it being demolished with the wrecking ball. My father set up lawn chairs across the street; it was pretty cool.

My father lived in a couple of places on that same street, across from the spot where the house used to be. He turned the entire plot in a garden. The garden, I believe, was taken care of for a little while after his death, though the spot has sat empty for years now. I went there a few years ago, and a piece of the rope was still tied to the tree.

Random Encounters

Here are some of the odd people I've come across in my travels.

*'Those Who Fight' begins to play*

• Walking home down the Iron Horse Trail with my friend, Sam, a guy appeared out of the bushes. He looked like your standard-variety thug. We walked past and and he fell in behind us, following us a ways, obviously up to no good. Watching our backs, on one of our checks we found that he was....gone. Vanished, without a sound. All people make some amount of noise as they move, and we checked behind us often enough that we would have seen where he had gotten to...

• On the way to the Multicultural Festival one year, I was accosted by a transgendered person. They enquired as to the size of my genitals and whether I would give them a look. I declined.

• During one of our weekly D&D sessions at Gemini Jetpack, a guy came into the store and proceeded directly to the back wall near our table. He pressed himself up to the door of the back room and began to lick it, lovingly caressing it with his tongue. After a minute or so he left, without a word.

• While out walking once, I saw a man on the sidewalk across the street. We did not interact, and I had only to glimpse him for everything in me to tell me that he was not to be trusted.

• After dinner at Checkerboard family restaurant, I went to the washroom. Opened the door to find it was already occupied by an old man (it's a single-person room). He said I could come in. I declined.

• While riding the bus once, I saw a girl a few seats over: jaw length red hair, petite. She made my heart beat really hard, and it felt like the kind of anxiety you feel you'll die from. I'm not sure what it was that caused this. She was pretty, though not unearthly so...

• MADD called. This is roughly how the conversation went:
• MADD: Is Mr. or Mrs. Koenderink home?
• Me: Speaking.
• MADD: We thank you for your previous donation. *spiel about needing more money* What can you contribute?
• Me: I don't know. My mother handles this sort of thing.
• MADD: *silence*
• MADD: May I talk with her?
• Me: She's out at the moment.
• MADD: When would be a good time for me to call back?
• Me: I honestly have no idea.
• MADD: *angrily* Well, you said you were Mr. Koenderink! *hangs up*

Jane

Not only do Jeff Martin and Jim Morrison look exactly the same, but they also share the initials J.M. Coincidence? Murphy controls those. And, not only do they share the same initials, but you have not written an exceedingly lengthy response and continuation to the very fabric, I think it's flannel, of our quasi-pseudocal anti-existence. That said, I will commence in the act of originating my own concoction of ingeniously produced wordplay, in retribution and spite of your discourtesy. Here lies what I am to have wrought.

PART ONE

“As I was arriving at the conclusion of my shadow's self-concluding, I was unwarrantably misplaced amidst the other antiquated manila-coloured folders by a rather uncomely and brazen chap! Imagine my completely complicated rantings, not to mention the fervour brought on by this little scenario of my shadow. Oh, you should definitely meet her, she's positively concrete in her lucidity. In fact I'm quite of the mind that you'd interact infamously! But to return to the insights of the tall men with the reddest beards, I was in a state of fractured euphoria. The stiff pages were peeling down all around, but solely in the study. It was UTTER perplexity! As I sought to overcome this hill of towering forks, or maybe they were sporks, I don't remember, I was besieged by the most unlikely of antagonists: a tawny gazelle. It's inset, azure eyes sped through me as if I had been gunned down by a microscopic version the largest ultra-death ray of loneliness the universe, and a scant few galaxies outside it, has ever seen in the 18 seconds of it's existence on the astral 747 commercial plane. I knew it's thoughts, and it knew mine - which didn't help the situation as neither of us could understand said thoughts.
“But a young woman behind me sneezed, and a very intricate and delicate sneeze at that. She had ventured hundreds of kilometres from the safety of her cherished big-time university, the type that produced the lowliest of the vilest rot that can be disclosed in these turquoise days. Yes, she was to be a lawyer. She had come from a small triple-parent home, the splendid glistening waterfall of a dwarven marine biologist, an incredibly attractive smokin' hot corporate CEO who was a volcanologist in her spare time, and a dominatrix. Life had been reasonably respecting of her, and she had held sway over many a fabled disc-jockey. She spent an ascertainable amount of minute seasons among the others of the town. May all that is simply atrocious befall Mr. Henry, and his waltzing unclothed across his yard! Bless his shins! Indeed, all was as it should have been, as evidenced by the colouring books. Until that one single day. Thursday. A day like any other, though all were deceived (except the sanitary department, who were able to see through the bullshit). She was just heading toward the casino when, out of the glowing shrubbery, an elf appeared! She had always thought she would be prepared for this kind of thing, but it was not so this day. Paralysed in the swoon of it's indifference, she could do naught but stare at the increasing translucency of it's essence. The finely drawn eyebrows arched above the flashing aqua eyes as it approached her. Sheer terror. A hundred thousand aphids descending from her temples down her perfect, pale skin. She knew. It was about to happen. Now. Why, of all the times? Why now? And then it was there upon her. A stream of silvery tendrils of energy arced through her body as the elf took it away from her. The moment seemed to last an eternity, a mixture of the lowest low and the highest high. It was exhilarating and what could only be described as orange. And in an instant, it was over. The elf gliding away; she, left there in a state of pure undulating staticity. As the thing left her field of vision, she regained sway over the mechanics of her parts. She fell to the foam of the path and began to weep tears of laughter. Never had she experienced a more traumatizing plot twist. Minutes passed before her strength returned and arms reached down to pull her up. She thanked the good Samaritan who had helped her to her feet, and set off on her personal journey. None before her had ever attempted this, not even in the time of Gurmot Ehltnivac. Despite this, she was an ever burning flame of golden determination, presentable to any circumstance.
“She tried to act inconspicuously after sneezing, so as to not disturb our battle. The great gazelle wished her luck in getting her favourite glove back. That elf was indeed a despicable entity for taking it. With that, she continued along among the winding dunes. Her slender figure was swallowed up by the behemoth of the horizon.
“We resumed our struggle. I grasped the very air to my left and hurled it at my beastly opponent, a passing glance as the missile struck it. My attempt was all for naught, maybe even in vain. It's horns elongated and shot outward, arcing, and then plummeting back down, to crash through the sand. The ground was then permeated with tremors, the shaking building and building. And then silence. All was still in that second. And at that the gazelle erupted volumes of searing energy, culminating into an enormous triskelion before dissipating just as quickly. I understood. I treaded off, following the petite footprints in the sand…”

***

PART TWO

The clammy spider leg fingers of exhaustion held tight. She had travelled too long through the dreariness of that granular hell. And that part was over. Presently she was in the midst of a brilliantly blinding grove. The black of the leaves almost unbearable. But she could fend off the spindly digits no longer. The earth reached up to her and she was lost.

***

It had been eight days since his encounter with his blue-eyed adversary. Allan was not even truly certain why he had taken to following this woman. There was just something......something right about her. His curiosity had to be sated. More easily accomplished without the meddling of that sandstorm. He would have shouted at it to make it cease its disruption, but his maw was too preoccupied with finding the water that it didn't have. That was the past though, a very difficult aspect of all things to change. Few creatures could be found here. Odd, deserts usually were home to an abundance of life. Granted, this one didn't seem to have snakeroots. So much blue; a darker shade than most others.
Allan was focusing too much on the scenery. He had to get back to finding her. But how? There were no tracks left. He scanned the endless grey in all directions. One patch of sky to the left was a striking lighter grey; more than that, to him, it felt that that was the way he was supposed to go.

***

She reclaimed her consciousness. The surroundings had been altered. Everything was bright and warm...

***

Allan found himself in a forest of expired carpenters. It seemed half a miracle that the corpses remained upright. "Perhaps it’s the ebony leaves clinging to them," he said to the lime-coloured button of his shirt collar. It offered nothing in response, though it did vomit a glare at him which had a suggestion of a hatred of cherries. Unoffended, this blob of masculinity trudged onward, accidentally stepping on a hammer, which of course caused a micro-fracture in the underground colonies of snail teeth, as well as the implosion of a nearby bumblebee.
Despite the complete lack of evidence to the contrary, Allan joyfully knew that he was ever so close to that aberrantly veiled enigma of the most praised taupe caged within his orifices. He stumbled about for thirty more symmetrical hours.

***

“Where are you?” she bellowed with the ferocity of an immature seahorse. She assumed someone must be responsible for changing her clime without even having the courtesy to inform her with a long distance email from a contaminated island in the Venezuelan Isles. No response, excepting a dry wheeze expelled from a magnificently pumpkin-hued shrub. She stood up, weary of the ox tongues composing the ground tickling the small of her delicate back. She was greeted with a, “Hullo there, Snorbles!”
“H-hello,” she said meekly.
“I’ve not seen you in an orange-clad age, Snorbles, my obtusely acute friend.,” issued from the puss-dripping lips of an insanely refined looking chap straight out of the Dark Ages-themed comic spread of a demented Presbyterian high on sawdust.
“No,” replied the sparkling woman, “I’ve been too terribly busy running errands for the Marquise of Lunderdanty. This exchange of vocalizations continued for quite some time, literally boring to death a rough-skinned wood elf. A mechanized Swedish nurse quickly inhaled his ashes.

***

At last he arrived at his destination. It was a hideously deformed wall of wriggling shoestrings. It had a visage akin to a hag who’s spent too many twilights washing avocados with a taxidermist’s kit. Pinned to it’s supposed neck by thirty-two toothpicks dripping with the blackest gall was a sign. It read: “Where there’s a will, there’s a wading pool”. Now there’s a notion, Allan mused with the selfsame expression a general of the Azores might have worn after putting down a group of splendid fortune tellers.
“Indeed, indeed,” intoned a voice from above his left shoulder which sounded strikingly similar to his cousin Muriel who worked at the all-night ulna shop. “Mudcakes! Is that you?” exclaimed the questing lad. There was a general hissing noise and the sound of hundreds of thousands of clay animation figures charging a well-to-do corporate executive. The stringy wall burst open, showering Allan with day-old honeydew melon rinds.
And there she was, speaking animatedly with a sketchy-looking beast, her hands strangling an imaginary person Allan guessed was her sister’s future boyfriend. He had finally found her. His quest was over. “I’m here!” he exclaimed, startling the woman’s companion into jumping through a conveniently placed window. There was tissue paper everywhere. The mechanical nurse was not amused.
“WHO’S THERE?!” she demanded while looking directly at him. Sensing that something was amiss, she added, “I’m not blind…much.”
Allan began to explain how he had come all this way, as if drawn to her.
“You may call me Sousaphone,” she said regally. “Will you help me track down my adversary?
“Never,” beamed Allan. They set off down a tunnel made of tunnels, for the man who jumped through the window had said the wicked elf went that way…

Camera

Ever play with the focus of your eyes to make the beams from light sources advance toward and recede from your vision?

Untitled

I've dropped my course at St. Louis; my mood has sunk again and I could not attend class on a regular basis. I will be attempting correspondence, however. Hopfully they give me credit for having already completed half the course.

Tonight is the gem club's annual auction/best specimens contest/secret Santa/pizza party. I'm bringing something for the secret Santa (a fossil I don't want); this will be the first time I've participated in one of these. I've also never bid in a live auction before, only silent ones.

Spider-Man, Spider-Man...

As a child, I would often become delirious when I had a fever, always while I was in bed for the night. The first time I experienced it, I was terrified because the giant robot spiders (from the episode of the original Spider-Man cartoon I had watched that day) were going to zap my mother.

Along with the dream sequences, my delirium usually included 3 uncomfortable sensations. First, there was the feeling of having a balloon in my throat (kind of like the piece of rubber stretched over your mouth when getting a filling at the dentist), choking me. Second, there was the sensation of wrapping myself around a sharp, thin wire (~1mm diameter), which at the same time was a concrete pillar (~2ft diameter). I don't know how else to put it. Third, there was always some task I had to do which would spin out of control. For example, I would have to sort or pack a bunch of balls, which kept multiplying and multiplying, making me despair that I would never finish the job. Sometimes there was just one ball (they were always yellow) which continued to expand, becoming bigger than the planet, the galaxy, even. Terrifying. These three sensations always felt as if they were building up, threatening to engulf me (how I feel sometimes when I have bad anxiety).

I haven't been delirious in years. In my teens, however, I began experiencing those sensations outside of the delirium. I could even feel them in various body parts, like my arm would be choking on a balloon. This is basically impossible to tell anyone without them thinking me mad (they may be right). It still happens to me, every once in a while.

Twice this past week, while trying to sleep I got the wire/concrete thing. It started in my torso, migrating then to my legs. The same engulfing panic ensued and I had to get up and do something to distract the feeling away.

What. Are. You? I'm a Vampire!

Last week's episode of the Vampire Diaries introduced a new character, Slater, who is very much like how I would be if I was a vampire. He has been going to college continuously since he was sired in 1974, racking up a huge number of BA's, MA's and PhD's.

I want to mention how great this show is. Aside from the teen drama and formula of 'human girl falls for vamp' which is, unfortunately, so common (why can't the human ever be male?), it's a bloody fun time. Full of eyes being gouged out, fingers being chopped off, and hearts being ripped out (literally and figuratively). The vampires are ferociously strong, do not sparkle in sunlight, and get all veiny and black-eyed when angry. Plus, Ian Somerhalder is just perfect.

Vampires do Look Sparkly When I Have a Migraine

This evening, while watching Rome, I experienced scintillating scotoma (aura migraine). It happens every so often, usually without the headache which can follow it. The strange thing about this time was that as soon as it had receded, another one started up! Even stranger, this second aura abruptly ended, instead of diminishing over time. It was somewhat startling.

Mad, Bad, and Dangerous to Know(ledge)

It has been an interesting two weeks. Last week, my (wretched) psychiatrist put me on Zeldox, a relatively new anti-psychotic. After only two doses I began experiencing side effects: uncontrollable shaking, itches like bugs crawling on me in various spots, weak legs, and a horrible feeling of phlegm in my throat which I could not expel. After a trip to Emergency on Thursday, stopping the drug, and being put on Ativan for a couple days to ease the symptoms, I am mostly better, though the phlegm thing persisted and is only fading now.

This week was my first back at school in 9 months, and high school, no less. I've been going to St. Louis Adult Learning Centre. I need 4 grade 11 and 12 courses as prerequisites to begin majoring in geology (I can no longer deal with the open-endedness of history papers). Being surrounded by so many people again has been quite stressful, and it certainly does not help that most of them are teenagers.

Yesterday, a madman (who seems to have been expelled from the school) came into our class, waving gigantic signs and rambling about soldiers dying for our rights, mental illness, and dancing...He was shooed out by the teacher and minutes later an announcement was made for everyone to get to their classes and lock the door. The police hauled him away and classes resumed shortly afterwards. He was there again today, outside the building. He didn't get in, and I believe the police dragged him away again.

Italy and Greece

In grade 10 I went on a trip to Italy and Greece for March Break. That semester I was taking my first year of Latin. The textbook used the story of a Pompeian family to teach the language, and I was very excited to actually visit the ancient city. About 25 people from my school went, including the principal. We were grouped with a small number of students from another school.

I befriended Ben, a grade 11 or 12 student from KCI, for the trip. He was a nice enough guy (a terrible rapper, though). After a delay in Montreal, we landed in Athens. I didn't sleep during the flight -I was too afraid (I don't like flying). I watched Anchorman twice, and the same Robbie Williams and Kylie Minogue videos far too many times. I had terrible jet lag when we landed, but felt better after eating. From there we flew to Rome in a small plane as the sun set. The aircraft was full of rowdy Roman teenagers.

Our tour guide for the trip was Billie, a Serbian woman who had moved to Italy. Our driver was named Marcello; all the girls loved him. My roommate while we were in Italy was Liam, a student from the other school; he was pretty cool.

In Rome, we saw the Trevi Fountain (I did throw a coin and make a wish), Trajan's Column, and the incredible Pantheon. The bus to the Colosseum was so (uncomfortably) packed that the doors wouldn't close, and people still kept trying to get on! We took the elevator to get to the upper levels of the amphitheatre (we didn't get to go on the modern floor built over part of the underground chambers). We next went to the Forum Romanum, entered through the Arch of Titus. The spot where Caesar was cremated was commemorated.

From the Forum we went to the Vatican Museums. The place is pretty much made of gold, with lovely Roman, Greek, and Egyptian statues. We didn't get to see the Pope, as he was in the hospital and only returned a couple days after we left the city (he died the next month). I loved the Gallery of Maps, hobbit that I am, which led to the Sistine Chapel. The Chapel was amazing, with walls of trompe l'oeil curtains and Michelangelo's fantastic Last Judgement. Inside the massive St. Peter's Basilica were Michelangelo's Pieta and numerous works by my favourite sculptor, Bernini, including St. Peter's baldachin. I took a picture of my feet here, and there was a face in the photo. I got a great pic of some off-duty Swiss Guards leaving the Vatican.

I signed-up for the optional excursion and spent a day in Florence, instead of having free reign in Rome. The bus ride through golden Tuscany was lovely. Our guide for the excursion was a cool guy nicknamed Mimo. We began atop a lookout on a hill where all the fashion designers lived, with a view over the city. We toured a leather worker's shop and passed by the church of Santa Croce, with an awesome statue in front of Dante and an eagle pulling at his robes. Florence Cathedral was amazing, the baptistery with Ghiberti's bronze doors, as well. I had lunch in the Piazza della Signoria (real Italian pizza) with KCI's principal. I also had gelato for the first time (banana). We didn't have time to see the Uffizi, unfortunately, but did see the lovely statues outside it by Donatello, Giambologna and Cellini.

As we were leaving Rome for Naples, our bus was hit by a car. Only a little paint scratched, but the drivers in Rome are maniacs. In Naples, we took a small ferry to Capri. Ben fell asleep on a little old Asian lady. I loved Capri, with it's narrow roads, orange trees, and gorgeous azure waters. For lunch I had the best pasta I've ever tasted at an upscale restaurant, and strangely the only good pasta of the entire trip...

Back on the mainland, we stayed the night in Sorrento. Liam and I went for a walk to get some disposable cameras, and an old woman muttered about the number of single men in the world as she walked past us. Leaving the city for Pompeii, we took terrifyingly narrow mountain roads, and even a tunnel through the mountain.

Upon reaching Pompeii, we discovered the ruins were closed! The workers chose this day to go on strike. This was very disappointing, as I had wanted to try to find the house of Caecilius, the pater familias of the family my textbook was based on. We did get to visit a cameo studio, and the stalls selling various phallic paraphernalia. There were a lot of stray cats wandering around.

From there we drove to Bari, on the other side of Italy (only 4 hours!) to catch a ferry to Greece. Before this trip, I had never seen mountains, and the ones we passed here filled me with awe. Ben fell asleep on me this time, and tried to buy my watch while half-asleep, which had suddenly become fascinating to him. I had never been on a boat across a sea, either -scary. Unfortunately, I was switched to being roommates with Josh for the overnight ferry ride (and the rest of the trip). Josh was a troublemaker, and the teachers put me with him to keep an eye on him. I hate that. I've been punished like this for being responsible too many times. The morning after was nice, though; I went out on the deck at stern and watched the water swirls trailing behind the ferry.

We arrived at Patras and headed for Delphi. The mountain roads up Mount Parnassus to Delphi were even more terrifying than the ones we took in Italy. Delphi was amazing, though -most likely my favourite part of the trip. We worked our way up through the ruins, seeing the Treasury of Athens, the seat of the Delphic Oracle in the Temple of Apollo, and the theatre. My former roommate, Liam, and I were the first to reach the stadium at the top of the ruins. Everyone else seemed to be out of breath...We raced each other; I would have won, but my shoe came off. The museum had the famous Charioteer statue. Again, there were a lot of stray cats wandering around outside. The balcony of my hotel room overlooked the streets of the little town. There was one shop which sold medieval weapons. The crazy shopkeeper even demonstrated the crossbow by firing a bolt into the back wall! I watched the sun set on a platform at the edge of town (it was a straight drop down the mountain).

From Delphi we continued on to Athens. On the way, we stopped at a rug shop, and had lunch at a lovely relaxed restaurant on the shore. While the food in Italy was unimpressive, the food in Greece was delicious, especially cheese pie.

In Athens, we ascended the Acropolis -saw the Erechtheion with it's Porch of Maidens, the Parthenon, and a nice museum. From the Acropolis you could see a disgusting ring of yellow smog around the city. We explored the market areas in town, and I had a necklace with my name (in Greek) made at a jewelry shop. We stayed in an upscale hotel, one of the many built for the Olympic games which had recently taken place. We had a party the night before we flew back home. The music was really loud, and the performers shouted 'opa' a million times. I hate that word now. Josh was becoming increasingly destructive, throwing things at pidgeons from our window, and yelling at people in adjacent buildings. I'd had enough, and refused to stay in the same room anymore. I slept on the floor of the other guys' room.

Of course, he somehow ended up next to me on the fight back. The bus ride back home from the airport was nice and toasty, though (it was freezing in Toronto).

Signature

I use a stylized signature to sign many of my artworks (I don't sign it if I hate the finished product). I did not choose this signature, however, my dessert did. One night in grade 9 or 10, I had one of those chocolate-coated ice cream on sticks. Traced in the moisture on the bar was the symbol I claimed as my signature.