Posted on by Ian Hanchet · 1 Comment

Attention Shoppers….

I simply can’t be trusted to do the shopping. I invariably get at least one item wrong. 

Let me explain: I am dyslexic. I am able to compensate for this most of the time and many people are surprised to learn this because I am well educated and an avid reader and quick with words. 

Every once in a while it rears it’s ugly head and I will glean the opposite meaning from a sentence or I’ll skip a line of music I am reading or I’ll write a b as a d, etc. this occurs mostly when fatigued or if I am in the throes of a Migraine. 

Back to shopping….. 

The worst place is the pharmacy, although all big box stores are a challenge. This will be hard to write without using the word “fucking” as an adjective before every fucking item in the whole fucking store not to mention the fucking piped in music and the use of different fucking names for the same fucking thing.

I am tired of writing “fucking” just assume it is in front of each proper noun that follows. 

Try buying toothpaste for someone else. My wife likes toothpaste with no whitener. Just plain toothpaste. It is usually hidden on the bottom shelf which is so convenient for a 6 foot tall man. It is far from the pimped up glitterati in the wall of toothpaste above it. I am guessing that there must be eighty to a hundred products in flashy packaging and different formats and sizes and brand names. Maybe 20 of these have a red tag in front indicating a sale of some sort with an arbitrary reduction from another arbitrary sticker price. Flavour is another option. Spearmint, peppermint, just mint, clean mint, fresh mint, regular, original, new, new original and on and on…. This is a nightmare for a dyslexic. In Quebec this is also compounded further by bilingual packaging and the price using different (English smaller by law) fonts. I hope you are still injecting my favourite adjective.

Let’s say that Pharmaprix doesn’t have what I am looking for, my neighbourhood has several alternatives within easy walking distance (in opposite directions. Northward there is Jean Coutu and southward a Jean Coutu and a Uniprix opposite arch other all on the same busy boulevard. Each store layout is almost the same, but usually there is at least one quirky difference. This difference usually involves the product I am looking for. Painkillers for example are so ridiculously separated. There are cold and sinus type painkillers and there are the regular and extra strength. Back pain, headache, muscular pain, etc. The really good stuff is behind the counter and some needs prescription. There are brand names to contend with and the generic equivalent. Some people swear by the brand name (costlier) and say the generic is not as effective. I say it is all a scam. When I was a kid my mum had Aspirin. She switched to A.S.A at some point which is one of those immediately forgettable meaningless acronyms that are anathema to dyslexics. The good stuff was 222. Fucked if I care what 222 stood for. Those babies worked on migraines.

While still at the pharmacy try the hair product section…..nightmare. I simply won’t buy for someone else. It’s like Where’s Waldo for masochists. 

Needless to say, Pharmacies are not my favourite place. Soviet Russia is preferable. One product you line up for I can get behind…..

Groceries are also a pain in the ass. Let’s pick a product like yogurt. 1%,2%,full fat, Greek style, whipped, fruit on the bottom, natural, organic, I am sure I am only scratching the surface and I am not going to research it completely which would involve doing the very thing I want to avoid. While in the dairy section, different formats for milk. Skim is not even milk. Compound this with almond milk and oat milk and canary milk etc. ‘Full fat, Greek style, whipped, fruit on the bottom’ sounds kinda sexy put together like that…

I am getting tired of writing, so, you, the reader (if still here) must be as well. 

Last week I needed to get black ink for our printer. Great. I went to Bureau en Gros (Staples) and upon entering an enthusiastic young man asked if he could help me. I disappointed him by saying I knew exactly what I needed and pointed to the wall of cartridges half a kilometre away. I went to the wall… HP65 black (good for hp envy 7000 series). I checked. Not my first rodeo. In and out in 5 minutes. Smug.

Sharon put the cartridge in, and it didn’t work. She put the spent one back in, didn’t work. She turned the machine off, same result. If there were tires, she would have kicked them. I was called, and I went into ‘hp help’ etc. and found a YouTube video and unplugged for 20 minutes and tried again. I tried to get hp on the phone but I forgot my password. After dealing with the password I found that my warrantee for free help was expired so I googled “life expectancy of printers” and realized that maybe it was time for a new one. I googled my model and Lo and behold there was one left at the same store I get my cartridges. This happened to be Boxing Day and it was on sale for the cost of several cartridges. O happy day!

I went to the store expecting to buy the same model thinking ‘I already have a full cartridge’ and they were offering 3 months of “free” ink. When I finally found a ‘clerk’ (dr. Livingstone, I presume?) he was a spiritless drudge who checked to see if the model was in stock. Turned out that the display model was it. I checked inside to make sure that the cartridges were still the same. The cartridge was staring at me with its name “hp64”. I left drudge boy behind and got an hp64 black  off the wall. Brought it home and our printer works again.  

I simply can’t be trusted to do the shopping

Posted on by Ian Hanchet

What Do You Know?

Acutely or peripherally?

I don’t think that any one person can know everything. Most knowledge is peripheral, that is why we seek out specialists. Some of us are lucky enough or mindful enough to have acute knowledge on topics that interest us and bring us joy and satisfaction. 

I have peripheral knowledge on most subjects. Layman’s knowledge. I sorta know how cooking works, automobiles, basic tools, electricity, plumbing. I know the basic belief systems of all the major religions, understand the workings of several layers of government from several different nations. I can hold my own at most social gatherings and appear knowledgeable and able to form opinions on many topics. I, like many others can live with peripheral knowledge because I have tools to research and I know how to get resources pertinent to any subject I may be curious about. I also know who not to consult.

Some people have acute knowledge on a specific subject like I have with music. I know a lot, but there are huge gaps. Some of the musicians I play with know music that I have only heard of. For example, I have never knowingly listened to Iron Maiden or Kiss. I am continually learning new things about music to expand my horizons, but, alas, there is only so much one can stuff in one’s head and my interest is narrowly tapered. I have peripheral knowledge of opera, twelve tone composition and punk rock. Even subjects I am well-versed in like Jazz and R&B and folk-rock and Bob Dylan are not exhaustive. I know more than most, but less than some. 

I saw a tee shirt in a tourist trap in Chinatown that said “I don’t need Google, my wife knows everything” (there was another that said “husband”) which is kind of funny in a passive aggressive way. I used to say of my friend Danny that I didn’t need Google because I had Danny. He could talk in depth on a plethora of subjects as unrelated as “fractals” and “organic farming” and “taxi licenses” or “water pumps”. I was locked in a bathroom once, as the handle had a malfunction. I really could not figure it out, so I phoned him up and he McGyvered me out of the situation. Useful practical knowledge about everyday things and general physics and tools and then silly amazing pockets of knowledge about bizarre phenomena are part of what made talking to Danny a delight. Danny is no more, so Google is a useful if not as loveable resource. 

I read recently in “The New Yorker” a story that made reference to Jane Eyre. I asked Sharon if she had read Jane Eyre , and she responded “anybody who is a reader has read it” but I am a reader, and I don’t think I ever did. It might be a gender related experience. 

I often hear from students the phrase “oh, I know that” or “I’ve seen that” and if I press them about it, ask what it is about, or to describe it. It usually is the case that they may have heard or seen it peripherally and don’t really “know” it. Mere exposure to something does not make one more knowledgeable.

When I was in grade 4, it was discovered after a series of tests that I had dyslexia. My mum looked into resources to help me, and I went to see a Dr. Kirschner who was a specialist. I had to do many exercises that involved eye-hand co-ordination such as swatting a rubber ball suspended from the ceiling on an elastic string and walking along a rail among others. The most important homework he gave me, though, was to “notice everyday things”. 

People who go on walks with me or who are passengers in my car know that I am not exactly a “point A to point B” person. I will not stop noticing things and revelling in their existence. I can’t pass a blossoming tree without sniffing the flowers. I enjoy interesting buildings, rocks, trees,and abandoned spaces. I prefer driving a country road to the highway. I love old cars. I love used record stores and flea markets. I prefer to shop in small stores rather than mega superstores. 

I try to be acute and in the moment. To fully experience what is here today. One day, before I had kids (pre-k…or “j” as I call it) I was in Smith’s Cove, Nova Scotia at the 9 bedroom “cottage” which was the family cottage of my first wife. I woke up to the sound of surf, seagulls, and Beethoven being played live on the piano. It was an exquisite moment and I went into the kitchen to make a coffee and intended to sit on the porch in the sun and watch the dew evaporate to the sound of Beethoven. In the kitchen was a guest of my brother-in-law with headphones on listening to heavy metal while he coloured in panes for a comic book he was hired to put out. The juxtaposition of my world views\ and his at this point was so clear to me. Why anyone would choose to block out the Beethoven and sit inside under a fluorescent light rather than enjoy the glory of the morning was beyond me.  

Learning and transcribing other people’s music is a great example of listening acutely. Sometimes a song I want to learn and may have heard dozens if not hundreds of times reveals a twist or hook that is beyond what a casual listener would be able to discern. Maybe a diminished chord mistaken for something else. I love music that has chords with notes in the bass other than the root. G/A for example has the 9th degree as the bass tone. D/F# is another common type of chord especially in singer/songwriter music. Sometimes a chord can be interpreted several ways depending on where it leads and where it comes from. Sometimes it defies description. When I learned “You’re a big Girl Now” by Bob Dylan, the D/F# that leads to the  B minor chord where the singing starts struck me as particularly interesting and kind of jarring, but perfect. Usually a chord before a Bmi would be an F#7 or an f# minor or perhaps a diminished chord. None of those could possibly be as effective as the one Dylan ultimately chose. A similar thing happened to me where I tried to pick up the chords to a song made more famous by the Beatles “Til There Was You” I was doing great just from memory until I was temporarily stymied by  a faulty memory. The chord I was missing was a Bb minor that came after a G minor….I heard other things that weren’t quite right….the obvious C7 after G minor……my memory could not retrieve this little morsel until the person who had asked me to learn it to play with him said “Bb minor” and again, it was perfect. Not an obvious choice. I love puzzles like this. 

I also listen to music for pleasure. I am not always analyzing the piece or trying to understand the lyrics, or counting measures. Sometimes the joy of listening without understanding is immensely enjoyable. I recently put on a J.J. Cale record that I am less familiar with and it took me into feelings and thoughts that ultimately led to these musings. I was not actively listening so much as just passively hearing while resting and the feelings were subliminal. I am only recognizing them in retrospect.

I am one of the lucky ones freed from Plato’s cave. Well, What do you know?

Posted on by Ian Hanchet · 1 Comment

“In my defense, I am Dyslexic”

One of the little things I take pleasure in is giving an alias to the baristas at Starbucks when they ask for my name. I am usually buying a latte for my sweetie. I have used some such as:  “The Emperor”; “Viking Banana”;”Ziggy Stardust”; “The Dude”; etc.

I also like to give the names of famous musicians as well. I have used “Frank Zappa”; “Willie Nelson” and “Bob Dylan”. 

This little game usually puts a smile on the person’s face who took the order and also the person who prepares the coffee. I make a point of asking who it’s for if the barista just hands it out. If the name is really absurd I might ask them to announce it louder. It is a fun game and most of the servers go along with it. They won’t print swearing, which I understand but I find irritating. I wanted to use “corporate prick” and was refused. 

One time I told the Barista I was the “Queen of Sheba” who is a biblical figure of repute. An African Queen who bore gifts of great value to King Solomon. The barista wrote “Queen of Shiva” which is a word likely known to the man who was probably jewish rather than Hindu. In Judaism, shiva is a period of mourning. In Hinduism it is a god of asceticism (deprival)…similar, but not Sheba.

My latest encounter was when I told the person taking my order that I was “Beethoven”. She complied and before I saw it she said it was “probably mis-spelled”. I asked “How can you mis-spell such a famous name?” She said “I am in Science, not music!” I told her I was in music, but I could spell “Einstein” and furthermore I asked her if “for example, you are writing a Master’s thesis on Hydrocarbons, what would happen if you got “Hydrocarbon” wrong? We agreed she would probably fail. She then exclaimed… “in my defense, I am dyslexic!” which to me is not a defense at all, but an excuse because I, too, am dyslexic and have only used that as an excuse for comedic reasons as in “I have sex daily” which is an anagram of “I have dyslexia”. (I’d rather have sex daily for the record.)

When I got the coffee and read the label on the cup I was amazed at how wrong she could have gotten it. I was tempted to ask if she was related to Donald Trump, but that would have been cruel and insulting.