March 2005

Grown Up Big And Strong...

Can raw belief change a thing?

After last month, I am somewhat discouraged.

The role call from last month has changed up a bit. I'm afraid that my bloated fish decided that he finally had enough and erupted while I was at work. He spewed out enough poison from his surprisingly little body that my frog was dead before I got home.

They shared their own tank, you see.

The two crustaceans didn't last much longer, even being in a separate tank. A third replacement lasted all of a week. I've given up on shellfish entirely and repopulated the tank with a variety of what I'm told are reasonably colourful fish. I can't be sure myself, but I am told this by very reliable sources who are capable of seeing the entire colour spectrum, so I've chosen to take their word for that.

The population of my little apartment however, has grown considerably despite the recent losses.

My two rabbits, Zipper and Nibblits shared an romantic encounter with my girlfriends male rabbit (Zipper and Nibblits are both of the female persuasion), and much to my surprise a couple of weeks back, I woke up to be informed by the aforementioned girlfriend that Zipper was giving birth. She had three kits, all sadly stillborn.

Less than twelve hours later though, Nibblits managed to give birth to four little mostly hairless little kits that have thus far done quite well.

Thus far...

It's 4 AM and I'm sitting here watching four little rabbits. Well, technically one could argue that I'm watching four little rabbits and one large rabbit. Mind you, the larger one was just a little bit larger only a couple of weeks ago, but I have a feeling that falls in the category of embellishment, and lord knows that I've never been one for that.

No really.

Regardless, she's doing just fine.

So there's these four little rabbits, and here's the catch of it all. Three of them are relatively "normal" for little rabbits. They hop about and only in the last day or so have they finally decided to open their eyes.

You should see the trouble that they are just waiting to get into. They finally can, and I have no illusions that they will do their best to get as close to it as possible. But it's not those three that are keeping me up tonight.

Like I said, there are four of the little guys (gender being the indeterminate thing at this point, pardon my misogyny), and it's the fourth that I find myself worrying about.

He's what the professionals would call a "runt".

He's easily half the size of the others, and for some reason, the left side of him has chosen to develop at a considerably slower rate than the right. I won't lie and say that doesn't worry me, because quite frankly, it does.

But boy oh boy, does he have spunk.

He was the first one to start to explore the confines of the cage. He still hasn't managed to make his left leg work quite proper, but he seems to be trying his damndest. His right eye is open, but as it seems to be the way with him, his left is lagging behind.

So I worry.

It's a funny thing to write this at this point. I'm told that runts often start out strong, but quickly fade away. I'm told not to place to much hope in this little guy (again, pardon my misogyny) because the odds are that he won't make it past a few weeks.

Considering my track record with raising rabbits, I can't help but wonder.

My first rabbit, Pat, died during childbirth. She was old, so I suppose that should comfort me in some way, but really, finding your pet bunny dead in the morning after trying to give birth leaves something of a mark on a person I think. She's buried in my parents back yard under a tree where all the family pets that have passed on eventually end up.

It's funny, I spent almost a year as a mortician, but that grave is one of only a couple that I clearly remember. Maybe it's because I dug it myself, maybe it's just because I really liked Pat, and I was quite upset with the fact that she found what she thought was an appropriate way to check out.

Not that she had a choice I suppose.

There are only two other graves that I can remember with that kind of clarity. One isn't really a grave, it was the scattering of my great grandmothers ashes in her garden. It was a beautiful garden with flowers like you have never seen and a goldfish pond.

I have been informed by my Aunt who lives in the same town as that garden used to be that it has since been paved over and is now the site of several high class condominiums. I haven't been back since we scattered the ashes, and I think that's for the best.

Seeing condos on the site of my grandmothers garden and ashes just might motivate me to make a late night expedition with a gas can and a pack of matches.

The other grave that I remember with that sort of clarity is quite frankly none of your business. At least not just yet.

Give me time on that one.

But back to my little rabbit.

I've named him Giblet.

It's funny, but as I write this, I find myself looking over my shoulder now and then just to make sure that he's doing ok. You have to watch out for the runts.

I know this, because I was one too.

Granted, I never (to my knowledge) had any trouble opening my left eye or making my left leg work, but I know that I was one of the ones that most people expected to fail spectacularly. There's something about being locked in a locker in the guys change room or being spat on by countless people during your formative years that has a way of convincing you that the most likely what you're destined for is a day job as a bag clerk at a supermarket that might just take you to fourty before your knees give out. After that it's all happy hour specials and NTN baby.

But somehow, at least right now, I seem to have dodged that bullet. The catastrophic failure that my life was supposed to be seems to either have taken a pass for the time being, or has simply moved on to some other poor sucker.

Honestly, the only reason that I don't think that I have ended up that way (at least not just yet) is the simple fact that I have done my best to refuse to give in. You can be the underdog, and you can be the runt, but I think that as long as you have some will to prove the expectations of your detractors wrong, you have something that just might keep you going in the hardest of times.

At least I hope so.

It's a scary thing writing this right now, knowing full well that by the time that I have put it up for you, dear reader, my little rabbit might well be gone, and there may very well be nothing that I can do about that.

There's that un-named panic that you feel when you look down on this tiny little thing against whom all odds are stacked, and you want to do something about it, but you know that you can only let the fates play out as they will. That's more than a little unfair I can't help but think.

What a basketcase of a parent I will make one day. Good thing my mom's in healthcare, that'll save the lineups in emergency when I freak out about the "odd sound" or the runny nose or whatever minor thing that I have no illusions that I will completely overreact to.

Right now, I have a CD release in just less than two weeks that I've been waiting to put out for the better part of a year and a half. I'm in the process of trying to put a band back together, and in all of this, I find myself worrying most about a tiny little rabbit.

Named Giblet.

And as I've said before, I think that I like that. I know that during my metaphorical days of malfunctioning eyes and legs there were people rooting for me, so I only feel that it's fair to do the same for him.

And as sappy as it might sound, I can't help but think that perhaps all this belief, all this will that I'm putting behind Giblet might just give him an edge at becoming the rabbit that I think he can be.

Which is not to say a rabbit Prime Minister, or a rabbit revolutionary. Not at all.

I just believe that he can be a happy rabbit who can hop with the best of them, albeit a little to the left.

Because really, isn't that just what we all want to be?

I've never trusted anyone who thought they should be Prime Minister anyways...

4:36 AM

I should be asleep, but I'm not. My old friend insomnia seens to have set up shop in my head again. 1 whole sleeping pill instead of the usual half and I still have been staring at the darkened ceiling of my bedroom for the last 2 or so hours.

But I have orange juice, Pulp Free. Despite what you may have heard or what you may yourself in fact believe, Pulp is evil. For three simple reasons.

1) I'm drinking a refreshing beverage, if I wanted to choke on little bits of the orange corpse, well, quite frankly I wouldn't. Even the implication that pulp might be good is ridiculous. Look at it this way, a vampire walks into a bar, orders a glass of blood and instead of his frosty cold glass of O+, he gets some O+ and little bits of the "donor". Chunky meaty bits that will only stick in his teeth and distract his whole day because there's a bit stuck in his teeth and he can't find a toothpick. It's like asking for a steak and on your plate there's a steak and a hoof. I love getting freebies, but that's just going to far.

2) By inserting pulp, you're taking away space that could be used by the precious juice. Seriously here. I bet all that pulp takes up at least enough space for one more half glass at the end of the road.

3) It was created by Lucifer himself and is the purest form of evil available on the free market and when ingested will cause cancer of the everything and you will die a terribly painful death.

So seriously, stay away from the pulp.

On a lighter note...

"Revolution" was released last weekend. The show was a lot of fun, and there was a pretty good turnout but I only sold like 4 copies of the bloody thing because all the people that swore up and down they would be there and buy one were decidedly absent.

You know who you are, so let me save you the trouble here...

Next time you see me, after having that conversation where you tell me how much you wanted to be there but [insert transportation excuse or friends birthday excuse here] you couldn't make it but boy-o-boy you'll be at the next one, if you catch me with a strange looking expression, yes I am, at that moment, deciding on where your body will stand the smallest chance of discovery.

To all those that did come out, I would like to say thank you so much. Special thanks to Scott Macleod, Simon, Annalise, her sister, Adam and Ken. Biggest thanks of all to my parents and Dad for braving his allergies, and especially to Nik for her unending patience with me.

One Last Thing...

I started this Reprisal earlier this month. Since then, there have been a couple of changes. Most noteably...

He's doing just fine thank you very much.

You know where to find me...