Monday 7 March 2011

How to Observe a Bee

When you spot a bee in the garden, do not simply let him be. A bee has much to teach you. Bees have learned how to work diligently whilst being wonderfully free. To be a bee is to be free. Observe, and imitate their rotund buoyancy and busy manoeuvres with your body. Wonder to yourself if "buzz" is the secret to getting to roll around in flowers as a career. Perhaps they're trying to tell us.

Pass this message on.

Tell your co-workers "buzz."

Tell your boss "buzz."

Find someone named Jillian, and tell her "buzz."

Upon realizing that buzzing is not the secret, and admitting to yourself that you have no idea how to enjoy a life that is both playful and productive, return to the spot where you first saw that bee. Crawl through the garden, brushing up against the flowers. Collect glorious pollen on your clothes, in your hair, and up your most allergic crevasse. You cannot make honey with this pollen, it's true. But after nuzzling enough flowers, and dirtying yourself thoroughly, you might feel a bit happy.

Calvin

My friend Calvin came over today. I showed him my blog. He seemed unimpressed.

At least I think he was unimpressed. It's difficult to tell with musicians, even with a musician who happens to be your best friend. He plays auxiliary percussion in Lapdog Tyranny and succumbed to the blasé attitude of the rest of the band. I only write this, Calvin, because I'm sure you're not going to bother reading my blog again. If you do, I take it back.
 
However, my passion is steadfast. I will change the world with my words. Just watch.

Saturday 5 March 2011

How to Polish Your Shoes

Buy a Ferret.

Bond with your ferret until a tender trust develops. Coo at your ferret and feed it nice foods. Take your new ferret (perhaps his name is Bruce), and buff him vigorously against your dullest shoes. If he indicates that this is not enjoyable for him, and gazes at you with sad eyes, buy a hamster. Bond with your hamster, and explore whether this critter (perhaps his name is Megan) is more suitable to shining shoes.

Within weeks, your life will be filled with furry creatures, and your shoes will sparkle with soft love.

Friday 4 March 2011

How to Choose a Scarf

A scarf warms, wraps, hold your head fondly in its hands. A good scarf will take care of you and hide you. You are safe inside it. Safe and warm.

Find colours that make you think fondly of the earth, or remind you of slow walks in dim light. Choose one from the many, even if there are hundreds like it. Name the scarf. Give it a name worthy of a dear friend. Tell it two secrets. This is your scarf.

There is no other scarf like your scarf. Sleep with it beside your face, and weep into it. It will weep back, and you will know the depths of scarf love.

Valuable Service

Today I closed a deal to supply a large new office building with bathroom fixtures. They wanted to go with the Textique Chrome series, a good choice. I suggested they swap the soap dispenser that come standard for the 855s. The Textique series leaks. The 855s don't.

I feel valuable on days like this. Future strangers will experience a public washroom without goopy pink Savoneur-Type-6 on the counters. Soap will come out onto their hands, then stop. They won't know that my concern for them has improved their lives. I feel valuable, yes. Valuable, but not fulfilled.

I long for the sort of fulfillment that will let me drift away into a long deep sleep. This blog, perhaps, can bring me that.

Wednesday 2 March 2011

How to Brush Your Teeth

Fold a sheet of newspaper into a sailor hat, and put it on your head. Lie in the bathtub, toothbrush in hand, feet in the air.

Begin brushing. Small circles. Hum songs about the sea, call the ceiling captain, and allow minty froth to explore your cheeks and seep into your hair. Once every tooth is clean, and once your mouth is overtaken with glorious explosions of freshness, slobber for a moment in silence. Kick your legs.


When the moment is just right, burst into the most enthusiastic sea shanty you can muster.

Eventually, rinse.

Tuesday 1 March 2011

How to Ride the Bus

First, you must contribute several minutes of effort to the economy, and receive payment for your time.

Put the dollars you've earned in your pocket, and stride to the bus stop to wait. Arms loosely dangling, draw pictures of mollusks in the air with your elbows until the bus arrives.


Climb aboard in once swift movement.* Drop your payment in the slot, and provide the driver a sprig of fresh lavender. Keep enough lavender for all necessary transfers.

You may be tempted at this point to roll on the floor reciting poetry or entertaining your fellow passengers with a barracuda impression. Though these do indeed seem like worthwhile pursuits, the bus require a subtle approach. Overwhelming your busing companions with such acts would accurately express your wild devotion to living with glorious fervour, but may also deeply irritate them. This is a situation where softer acts are appropriate. You want to let them know the deep joy of a life lived strangely without making their bland sensibilities ache. Some examples:

-Stick all the petals of a flower up your nose.
-Write "this is the happy seat" with a marker on your seat so that all who sit there know.
-Take cards out of your wallet and press them into your face, leaving backwards robot-numbers on your skin.
-Reenact all of the hand gestures performed by Buster Keaton in the film Sherlock Jr.



*Note: if you are not well bathed, skip this step and return home. Present your fellow bus-riders with only the most pleasing of aromas.