dave

Alright, it's official, all that talk about how I would 'probably watch a little bit of olympic hockey and not much else'. Garbage. I was lying. I've now watched so much Olympic coverage I dream about taking a luge down the moguls. So obviously I'm fairly thrilled that I'm heading for Vancouver tomorrow morning. Quinzy will play a couple of shows and we'll be taking in the Gold medal women's hockey game. It's going to be fantastic!!

Hey, haven't written anything in a while so I just thought I'd let you know that things are going well in Singapore.  We're having a blast filming the trip for MTS WInnipeg on Demand.  We'll have a show that airs in Fall.

Here's a sweet new duo that did a cover of 'You and this Terrible Place'! Check it out!


You%20and%20this%20Terrible%20Place.mp3

"Please, sir, relax, let me explain."

The man in the white coat seemed to think he would be able to calm my nerves with words. I needed him to understand that I simply needed a dose of my medicines, and perhaps a good vics salve. I simply had a case of the common cold, likely caught while I travelled home from Old Peoria (Home of my father). The train had been a dreadful mess of snotty children and their doting mothers.

"Sir, I'm not sure how to tell you this. The bed you rest in today is quite different from the one you may remember resting in, in what you may consider to be yesterday."

Excuse me? This man is a preposterous old fool, an absolute turkey of a gentleman taking advantage of a restrained and apparently drugged man. I still couldn't muster a word, although I was starting to notice a marked change in surroundings.

"Let me first of all say, you are an extraordinarily lucky young man. You were one of only three people to receive this treatment, and of those three, it seems you are the only one to have 'pulled through'."

Just give me my salve. And why is he being so sarcastic?

"Next, I need to tell you that you have been asleep for the past 65 years."

Apparently, my common cold had turned into something substantially more concerning. Apparently I had developed a rare form of tuberculosis. So apparently rare that it was the first strain to have developed in a liver before moving to the lungs. Like a tropical storm marinating in a warm gulf the TB had quietly picked up steam, by the time it hit my lungs it was a hurricane. I had been kept alive on digitalis purperea, which, strangely enough, had been discovered by my great-great uncle, John Ferriar, nearly 200 years before. It slowed my heart rate, while strengthening the contractions, thereby allowing my lungs to perform at a less than adequate rate without tragic consequences. The rest was to be explained when I had the strength to speak.

So now I had come to realize that while I had lain in this bed - growing nearly enough hair to span the Gulf of Peoria - my love had passed on, my village had turned into a vast sea, and the great white north, a relative unknown in my day, had become the new frontier.

The dying young man stirs, slowly opens his eyes, a bead of sweat rests in the creases of his forehead. He sees lights, little else, he hears nothing. Vibrations can be felt through the wheels on his bed as people move around him. The vibrations bring awareness to his body, the awareness wipes the fog from his eyes. The light is now fading into shapes. He gazes glassy-eyed upon a glass of water resting on a cabinet across the room. A startled nurse now stands over him, she speaks hurriedly, he hears nothing, only senses her panic. The nurse notices his eyes, they seem almost darker now, a deep shade of indigo, drained of life and light. As his cognizance strengthens he attempts to speak, his voice is as useful as his ears, the sound he makes cannot be understood. He is a newborn child. The fruitless effort of speaking frightens him and his chest begins to tighten, he notices suddenly his heart beating in his ears and hands, the tension grows stronger, his anxiety takes him, the room begins to move, he slips back into sleep.

Yes well, I've injured my back. I went to a spine-specialist (I think they're called boneopractitioners) and he says there's a twist where it should go straight and straightness in places that shouldn't be straight. Keeping the spinal ride well maintained is difficult to do. Apparently these malcurvances cause extraordinary amounts of muscular knotting. Apparently all I have to do is drink a quart of milk a day to keep the spinal-curvseys away.

I'm excited that we have an album to give to people. Something solid to show people we've been working the last while. I'm also working on a stop motion video for one of our songs. Yeah, I know, it's so been done on youtube like a gabajillion times, but that's ok, because I only really want to get it on break, where there are all kinds of free videos, pictures and comedy for guys. That is if you enjoy seeing hapless and ill-fated skater dudes breaking the crap out of their bones, frat boys hitting each other with cars, and guys pulling really lame pranks on their trusting girlfriends... although that reminds me of the video where the guys put flour in the hairdryer and totally gets in this other dudes eye and he like cries and stuff...!!!!luv it!!! ummm. See, so that's why I'm going to work on an 'already been done' stop motion video, ok? So I don't watch all those stupid videos. Although the one where that guy let's his friend hit him with his car for $5 is pretty sweet.

Anyway, the video is going to be about ghosts, more specifically, spice container ghosts, even more specifically, the ghosts of the curry powder and the cayenne pepper and how they died together to become ghosts who would help bring other 'inanimate' objects who have died come into the light.... Is that spooky or what? Yeah, it's supa' spooky.

So I had my appendix removed on New Years Eve. It was nearly as much fun as you would expect. I got some anesthetic, I got a lot of morphine, and I got a little bit of codeine, quite the cocktail, let me tell you. Now I'm back at home watching, or rather, feeling, the incisions on my stomach slowly heal. Sometimes they're itchy, sometimes, they sear with pain, mostly they just quietly heal. I've been told that excessive itching is indicative of some sort of infection, so I'm hoping it's normal and I won't have to go back to the hospital. As much as I appreciated my lovely roommates, I'm happy to be home. I should mention that the doctors and nurses who helped me out were exceedingly gracious and accommodating. I should also mention that nurses are the most patient people on earth.

So there'll be a bit of a Quinzy break while I recover and then it'll be time to release our CD.

Take care, happy new year.

David