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Monday, December 11, 2000
I was in the coffee room, flipping through the local newspaper, taking time to peruse the obituary pages (an old habit from childhood). Suddenly my eye falls on one entry: Robert DeBrisay, 37 years old, who died of a pulmonary embolism on December 7th.
Suddenly 26 years fall away and I'm back at Andrew Sibbald Elementary School in southeast Calgary, and it's recess time. What am I doing? Being a brat--specifically, teasing Bobby DeBrisay and running away, because he has a speech impediment and I, the usual beatee, have finally found someone I can pick on. Sigh. It's the kind of memory I wish would go away, actually. No doubt everyone has moments they regret, and I was a pretty normal kid in most other respects (far more picked on than picking on, if the truth be told). A quarter of a century later, I'm hoping that a man I don't know had a better life after those tormented school years. Especially since he died so relatively young.
I wonder if the people who used to make my schooldays hellish ever think back to them and regret anything? most cases, the three to four-inch-thick cranial bone would prevent such higher cortical processing. In other cases, surviving hard time would take up most of their waking thoughts.

Friday, December 08, 2000
Native American surnames are catching on! Check out the list called "Proposed Indian Names for White People" by Paul Maliszewski in today's McSweeney's. I'm going to have to add "Eats Fruit Far Too Seldom" to my "Hurt Self/Burn Self/Bang Noggin" names.
Tuesday, December 05, 2000
Bless you, Grant Man. I almost forgive you for getting me all obsessed about my Flintstone moniker. It's easy for you, Granite Hutchinstone. What's Bedrockian about "Jane"? Egg Latin (or eggy-peggy) is easier: I'm Janegg Farreggies then. Somehow I can't get excited about Janerock Farriestone.
It is this sort of weighty philosophical matter that keeps me up at night. Perhaps it's time to return to the original Lakota surname, "Hurt Self."
Sorry to interrupt dear Jane, But I had to fix a couple of links in your previous posts. There were a couple of those annoying http-colon-backslashy bits missing in action, and your viewers were being sent to heck and gone. All better now.
Monday, December 04, 2000
Too late, Herr Ringtail! I read your fiendish blog before you consigned it to perdition. Just bring a satchel filled with 20-dollar bills, and we'll just pretend this little controversy never happened, yes? I always knew you were a reasonable man.
So it's this way. I've been, since November 22nd,
  • Out of town for a few days, visiting various family members on Vancouver Island. Here I also met up with a lifetime friend, Nikki Tate, who is a successful author. Meaning she still has to hold a full-time job, even if her books are selling wonderfully. And wonderful books they are.
  • Debating the merits of Harry Potter with Nikki. And I said my usual: I'm sick of reading quotes from people who say "If they'd had books like this when I was a kid...". They did, actually. Try C.S. Lewis. Try Tolkien.
  • Watching my black eye fade to almost nothing - it's now just a red mark in the inner crease. Sort of all birthmarky.
  • Crossing over like a coked-up Hans Brinker, up at the Oval.
  • Working ridiculous hours.
  • Stealing Bryce's dog at every opportunity.
  • Running in the Santa Shuffle 10K, where I totally sucked, because of this cold I discovered I've got. And:
  • Bubbling over with goo from the cold. The world smells of bandages, and something tells me tonight's the night to scrub out the cat pan.
Quote du jour, from Grant:"...the current web populi sports the combined visual attractiveness of a self-published pizza flyer and a PowerPoint presentation formatted with a default template." Careful, Grant, keep writing this well, and you'll have a following on your hands.
Hrmmm...just read the ring-tail's blog...what does it all mean?