Tina Yothers

 

I would love to have important facts at my fingertips, things like historical events, the workings of the different levels of government, and maybe just a dab of science in there. Unfortunately the only information that I seem to be able to access consistently and accurately is trivia from the 80’s. I like to call it “Tina Yothers syndrome”, because even by 80’s trivia standards knowing the name of the actress who played the youngest sister on family ties is pretty unimportant. I guess I have to admit that we tend to remember the things that interest us, which is why I also remember seeing Bernie Kopell (the doctor from the Love Boat, 1977-86) in Prince Edward Island as a child. I’m pretty sure it was him anyways. Trying to replace 80’s facts with more important information is even more difficult because of the yahoo! Homepage. At the bottom there is a list of important news stories from around the world, but at the top of the page there are tempting articles like “The cast of Full House reunited” or “one hit wonders, where are they now?” and they always include a lot of bright pictures.

 Here now are some facts about the former child star, a washed up celebrity like no Yother. Tina, or “the homely daughter from family ties” as she is referred to on the blog washed up celebrities (so glad this website exists), released the album Confessions in 2000. It is not great, but not bad enough to be entertaining. In 2004, she played the lead in Lovelace the musical, a stage show based on the life of the porn star Linda Lovelace. To my knowledge there is no video documentation of this show and that saddens me. Of course the final stage of becoming totally washed up is to star on a reality show, and as if sensing her own future, Tina ballooned to over 200 pounds for her appearance on the fourth season of celebrity fit club in 2006. Even fellow celebrity fit clubber Ted Lange (Isaac the bartender from the Love Boat, friend of Bernie Kopell's) must have felt a bit sorry for her.

Like all Tina Yothers syndrome sufferers I have to ask myself the question: why do I love reading about washed up celebrities? Is it because it makes me feel slightly better about my own life? Yes, that is why.

at this time of night

 

At this time of night,

When all the businesses are silent,

When all the homes, sidewalks, televisions and even dogs are quiet,

When the sound of a pen writing on a piece of paper is clearly audible,

One can hear many thoughts,

For the mind is rarely silent.

At this point, some people may feel restless, listless,

they may drink, watch television, finish a list, read, or meditate.

The actions are not really important,

for they are all distractions.

But on this night,

At this time of night,

When every phone, recording, computer, and even voice was silent,

I sat and listened to my thoughts,
and although the hopeful, joyous and grateful thoughts
were regularly interrupted by the angry, resentful and even violent ones,
I was glad to hear them all.

 

The great novel

 

It was a calm, summer evening in the great city of Paris. M. had decided to spend a month there, and was renting a small bachelor apartment in the working class neighbourhood of Belleville. The activity of the building echoed through the halls: parents speaking to their children, the rattling of pots and pans, and people listening to their favourite music. He felt inspired by the many great writers who had lived in Paris, and had spent a good portion of that day visiting their local haunts, many of which were still open for business. M. had always wanted to write a novel loosely based on his own life. He was already a solitary person by nature, so the idea of spending countless hours alone writing seemed  very appealing to him.

In an attempt to create the perfect, distraction-free writing atmosphere, he cleared his small kitchen table of all clutter, and sat down with several pens and sheets of paper. As he stared at the blank loose-leaf, he experienced what many Zen masters throughout history have struggled to achieve: a totally empty mind. Unable to achieve inspiration on his own, he decided to open a beer; it would be the first of many. After that there was a brief flurry of sentences, but as he reflected on his life, he wondered if would anyone want to read such an eye-watering-ly boring story? There would definitely have to be a great deal of artistic license. Unable to achieve artistic license on his own, he had a second beer.

Now as it often happens when someone tries to focus on a particular task, doing almost anything else seems much more appealing. Rather than resist the pull, he decided he would take a short break from his writing and indulge in a distraction. He put on a Ray Charles CD and began dancing around the apartment in a provocative manner, making sure first that the shutters were fully closed. He danced for about ten minutes. He then returned to the table, wrote a few more sentences, and then became extremely restless and distracted once again. It was becoming quite humid, so he took off his shirt... and pants. He danced through the rest of the Ray Charles CD, his small rolls of fat glistening with perspiration. After much drinking and gyrating, he decided that perhaps writing an entire novel was too ambitious, and he would focus instead on very short stories. He titled his first one The great novel.

The sadness of the Galleria Mall

The Galleria Mall is a sad, strange place.
Even if you have never been there,
you have probably been to a similar mall.
In my home province of Nova Scotia it was the Sydney shopping centre,
or “the grub mall” as the locals knew it.
It’s that mall with the strange businesses,
like the store with really terrible art, or the electric razor repair shop.
The mall employees stare at the floor, their eyes glazed over;
their dreams are fleeting.
The liquor store has to refuse service to several customers who are already quite loaded (it’s 2 o 'clock in the afternoon).
A clothing store sells leather belts for three dollars.
Old men sit on the mall benches for hours on end,
while outside it is a bright sunny day with almost no humidity.
A café in the center of the mall sells reheated vegetable patties
and hot, flavourless coffee.
Strangely dressed  people walk through the mall with zombie-like expressions;
their children shout incoherently,
their voices echoing through the cavernous hallways.
The security guards are…very overweight.

I recently noticed "final closing sale" signs on several of the business’ storefronts.
I imagined a scene similar to the ending of the movie Poltergeist,
where the entire mall is torn down,
and an ancient native burial site is discovered underneath it.
The troubled spirits are then finally free to rest in peace,
and an unbelievable feeling of calm comes over the entire neighbourhood.