Peanut Butter Unchained

           

            About three days ago I started a download of a collection of 26 films of Buster Keaton, including some of his early work in Fatty Arbuckle movies. On Saturday morning, when I got up, the download had completed. I’m also downloading a 163 gigabyte file from a Spanish speaking uploader who claims it’s a complete Keaton collection. That will take at least two months to download, but probably quite a bit more. It has been said that Buster Keaton was one of the great filmmakers of all time, but I don’t think I’ve actually sat down to look at anything he did all the way through. I’ve still got a bunch of Bonanza episodes to finish watching, so it’ll be a few weeks before I get around to Keaton.

            On Saturday morning I was eating some peanut butter on toast, but I was doing some writing at the same time. I went to pick up a piece of toast but caught it too much on the edge and it flipped over when I lifted it so it landed upside down on the back of my hand where all the peanut butter came off. That would have been embarrassing for me if anyone saw it so I’m glad no one knows it happened.

            The day kind of slipped by without my getting much done, probably mostly because the internet was so slow.

            I had planned on taking my guitar out to the Yellow Door Café and Open Stage at 6 St Joseph, but thee was an 80% chance of rain, and on top of that, this was my last free weekend before I start classes. Sunday would be occupied with Paul Valliere’s open stage in the park, and on Monday the exterminator is supposed to finally come, in which case I would need to leave home for four hours. So Saturday was my only chance for a free day at home. I would have taken a bike ride but since I anticipated rain I didn’t bother. It did rain a bit starting about the time I would have been heading up to Yonge and Manor, so I think I made a wise choice. Later on my decision to not go to the Yellow Door was justified, because there was a downpour that would have soaked my guitar and me at least on the way home.

            That night I finished my translation of Boris Vian’s “Un Coeur D’or”. So in the whole summer I did two story translations, wrote a story based on one of my mother’s childhood memories, translated a few songs, learned how to play a few more of my own songs, explored the city, wrote my journal, go in some guitar practice in front of small audiences (though I don’t know if that did any good). I had hoped to be done with the bedbugs before the end of the summer but that didn’t happen.

            I got an email letting me know that I’m off the waiting list for the short story course that starts in January. So now I’m enrolled in all the courses I wanted for this year, but I still haven’t gotten word as to whether I’m getting my grant or not. I probably am, but it’s always a relief when I get the official documentation.