The Besz Dispenser - This Week's Rant

For the week of August 16th, 1999

Sorry for the delay everyone, but it's been a hell of a few weeks here. Keeping my head above water is something of a chore nowadays, but I don't really recall a time when it wasn't. This is just me whining about the world, which, unless I'm wrong, was the point of this site. Whatever, in any case, let's move on to the column. Well, actually, it's two columns combined. Since I was a bit (OK, a bit past a bit now) late with last week's column, I've written two and put them online. Hey, why not? It's my site, I don't see anyone else paying me for it.

Forever the King

Someone please, for the love of God, tell me why people still feel the need to hold candlelight vigils, celebrations, and while I'm on the subject, careers based around impersonating and a theme park dedicated to Elvis Presley? Someone's going to have to tell me, because I just don't understand it. This is a man who is dead, and actually died from drug overdose on a toilet seat. He's not a role model, he's not the Messiah, he's just a singer. Why make velvet wall paintings and ceramic busts of him in his honour?

I must be missing something here. I have to be. What is it that drives people far and wide to see his grave, to visit his overly-cheesy mansion Graceland, to buy that damned bust, and to generally break down into tears whenever he gets on their TV screens, radio, tape deck, or hand them their groceries at practically every store in the Southern states (according to every tabloid paper around). What did he do that was so damn great? And why can't I sell a velvet portrait of myself?

See, I like music. No, scratch that, I love music. My favourite bands right now are Radiohead, the Headstones (which, as a footnote, I met in a McDonald's on Highway 401 in Cambridge, and I got the autograph! Just like stating that), and Rollins Band. However, my point is this: I'm not dropping everything to follow them around like they are my personal Jesus. I would consider Henry Rollins, but I don't think even he could get me to roam 10,000 miles to see his bed. The motivation to travel with the Grateful Dead should have died in the 60's. The Rolling Stones should be in retirement, Keith Richards himself should be dead. Why do these things happen?

The answer to this eludes me completely. I just don't know. Music has become a sort of religion in itself, and these bands, and especially Elvis, are the gods. No matter what they've done, they will always be idolized. The Stones will always sell out stadiums, but what's more frightening, so will Benny Hinn. So will the WWF. So will Anthony Robbins. Which only goes to show that no matter what age, what era, what belief system, or what education they have, people generally are stupid.

Takin' care of business

One of the reasons I haven't written anything in so long is that I was more worried about how I'd get to and from work everyday. Not because I was afraid of being mugged on the way, but whether or not the tires on my car would stay on the car, or if the one time I decide to hit 80 km/h they decide they'd had enough and go on their own voyage of self-discovery. That's all behind me, but so is $400 dollars of money I didn't have to fix it. So I'm broke, and this doesn't look to be changing anytime soon. My job's got to go.

Sure they've given me a raise, and I'm now selling enough to keep my paycheck high enough to at least buy food and rent, but I think I need more. When things like this happen, their has to be a buffer of some kind. As of right now, there isn't so much as a baby blanket to help me. No one's hiring me here, and although I know I could get something if I moved back with my parents, I really don't think I could do that and keep any form of this newfound sanity I've fought for in the last 8 months. So, what to do?

Well, I'm moving to someplace cheaper to live. That's step one. I'm now going to be sharing expenses. Sure, I've given up my spacious basement flat for a really small room, and privacy for two roommates, but at least I now have a kitchen, a dishwasher, and most importantly, air conditioning. I can live anywhere, as long as it's a temperate climate. Plus, they will help me upgrade my computer, and I'll be finally getting the Wave Cable Internet. So this website will become somewhat easier to maintain. If only I could think up enough to talk about every week.

Step two: Stop leaving the house. This is important in three main ways. 1) I need to pack, I have this website, poetry, and a novel to write, and I have about 30 books that I haven't finished reading that I should really finish (or in many cases, start). 2) I'm not driving anywhere, and since gasoline prices are at around 62 cents (as of August 16), I won't be paying too much for gas. Finally, 3) I can't spend money in my house, unless I have a credit card. And I'm not insane enough to use a credit card right now.

So, my choices are either I learn to become a homebody full-time, or I get a better job. The possible wild cards in this is either I win the lottery, or I become a hermit, say fuck you to rent, and wander the countryside ranting to passing cars about their noise. Maybe I could mix the whole lot, and retire with some RRSPs? Or maybe I should become the hermit and start wearing the potato sack now.

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