I’m having a party this Saturday, May 21, at my beautiful country estate in the province of New Brunswick. Email me for directions. It’s about three and a half hours from Halifax, and around an hour or 90 minutes from Moncton, Fredericton or Saint John. If you want to come but don’t have a car, let me know and I’ll see if I can hook you up with someone. If you want to come sooner and stick around a couple days, that’s cool. We’re gonna have a funky good time.
Here are a few things we’ll be doing:
* Drinking on the sunporch
* Running up and down the stairs
* Putting on dresses
* Stalking beavers
* Drunk driving on a ride-on lawnmower
* Watching Robocop
* Listening to 15 minutes of CRASS
* Jumping out of moving cars
Jumping out of a moving car is my new favourite game. I’m obsessed with jumping out of a moving car. I did this all afternoon yesterday. I kept backing up to the top of the hill, putting the car into drive, getting it going as fast as I could handle it and then opening the door and jumping out. It’ll be even better with other people here, because then I won’t have to worry about jumping back into the moving car before it hits the steep downhill slope of my driveway and totally gets away in a big disaster. With someone else driving, you can concentrate on the pure art of the jump. Not to say that I don’t enjoy jumping into a moving car. Jumping into a moving car is a whole satisfying sport unto itself. You run as fast as you can, and when you’ve caught up to the moving car you put one hand on the roof and one hand on top of the door and hoist yourself up and into the moving car just in time to put on the brakes before disaster strikes. You get that whole “boat approaching a crazy waterfall” feeling. As you run after the car, a good trick is to picture a couple of orphans sitting in the backseat staring at you helplessly. Man, if that car gets away from you and goes over the cliff, you’re never going to be able to erase the memory of the terrified look in those poor orphans’ eyes. That thought should help you run a little bit faster.
I set up the camera and did four or five passes, most of them were way more dramatic than this, with faster speeds and big somersaults and stuff, but this was the only one where everything was in the frame:
I’ve been working on my reverse driving skills too. Just trying to drive in reverse as fast as I can.
Jumping out of a moving car that’s going in reverse is a whole other world. Not to mention, jumping into a moving car that’s going in reverse. That really gets the adrenalin flowing, because it’s not enough to merely catch up to the moving car. You have to catch up to the car, and then go a little faster than the car is going, because you have to run around the open door before you can jump in. I would say the pinnacle of the whole sport is jumping into a moving car that’s going downhill in reverse.
Speechless. I am speechless and in awe. I wish I could come visit. The city is nice this time of year, but I’d appreciate it a lot more after a couple days spent jumping in and out of moving cars on some secluded roural route.
Happy partying!
haha and we all though you’d be bored moving to the cuntry. silly us.
PS: In an alley off Gottingen street today, but viewable whilst driving down the street, scrawled on a wall is “Philip Clark is a nice man”. I chuckled when I saw it and wondered if you wrote that there? or maybe one of your ladie friends…..
Are you wearing a dress in the act? Would you consider an evening gown for level of difficulty factor? I think you’re on to something Philip. I’ll take your side bet on Claudette. I can monitor her more closely, being a Toronto resident. Even closer if my sister moves in with her. I think you should come up with a name for your new sport.
I second Eben’s words. And add, my I’m still laughing.
“Race of Doom!”
Sorry, that was ger.’s side bet. – actually, I retaract my interest in that bet. Just not my cup of t, really. The only reason I thought I’d kick in is because you’re almost as/or as nuts as she is. Gotta luv’er. Cheers.
you got to calibrate that shit, people.
Your hat fell off.
i took a picture of said graffiti before i left halifax to come back to toronto…
here is the link.
oh, and regarding the post…
JESUS MOTHER FUCK IS THAT EVER ENTERTAINING.
the dress was a nice touch.
Dude. You’ve got to get yourself some new dresses. That colour does NOTHING for you.
“Caligirl.” CATTY girl, more like it.
P.S. “Philip Clark is a nice man” was written by Geoffrey Pye, a former roommate of mine. He’s a very funny fellow who owes me nine hundred dollars.
want me to bring robo cop?
bring part 2.
“madam, you have suffered an emotional shock.”
I still have spaces if anyone in Halifax wants to go. The good ship Gerald departs at around 2pm-ish.
I ran into Geoffry Pye the other day. He’s looking very blond.
Soz. But come on. You wear a dress, you’ve got make sure it’s the right colour. Although I see from the photo that it does have the distinct advantage of being able to fall right off with the right inducement.
I once jumped in to a moving van on the 401. Touring as Rebecca West’s roadie before you joined the band. A five hour drive to Guelph from Toronto because of a snow storm had me cross legged at a highway interchange. I got out while we were stuck in traffic and pissed for about ten minutes in the wide open space betweeen on ramps and highway. DAle said if he hits the moving the stream (of traffic) he wasn’t gonna wait. they started pickin up speed and yelling to me. but I could not stop the pee. when i did finish they were moving along at a good clip and hundreds of feet from where I got out. the door swung open, Allison got out of the way. I ran as fast a I could on slippery shoulder, reached out my hand grabbed the door and pulled myself up in to the van just as we hit open road and the wind slammed the door.