wayner

Back in my one year of university, I often stayed up late working on papers/homework/etc at the computer.

And usually I’d have a lit candle by my side.

I had this pot shaped candle holder. I bought it at a place called South of the Border at the Avalon Mall. I feel as if it said ‘Made in India’ but I can’t really remember for sure. It was metal, aluminum I think, and coloured a deep rich purple. And, this is an important point, it had your standard 5 point stars punched through the metal all around it in slightly off set rings. (Think seats at a movie theater.)

Now, remember, that’s an important point.

Because of the shape, candles would melt down into a puddle easily and it could be a little tricky to light them again. This one night I dropped a paper match inside as I was setting it to the wick. The match went out and so I got another. A little more successful this time I blew out this second match and went to work.

After so long, I took a look at the candle and noticed that I had left the first match still in the candle holder. It was floating in the melted wax. That was kinda cool. ‘I wonder if that’ll act as a wick?’ I said to myself.

But then I turned back to my work.

Now, I don’t really know how long it was, but I eventually heard something over the music I was playing. (Not too loud, it was late at night after all.)

I turned to look at the candle and a wide flame was shooting up out of the top. About a foot and a half high.

Whoa.

What the hell happened? I tried to look inside as best (and as quickly) as I could. Turns out that match did act as wick. And it brought the flame way too close to the melted wax.

What was happening was that the wax itself was burning. It wasn’t using the wick any more. You could see it boiling on the surface and just burning.

So why were the star holes such a big deal?

Well…. remember how I said there was a sound? It wasn’t really just the wax burning. The heat and flame would rise out of the top of the holder and the holes would allow fresh air to come in the sides. More air makes more burning, which makes more heat, which rises and draws in more air. Do you see what I’m getting at?

It was like some twisted rocket engine. The sound was like a blow torch you see in the movies.

What the hell do I do? I have a very dangerous fire. My first instinct was to run up stairs and wake my parents. But just leaving it alone, even for a little bit, might be the most dangerous thing I could do.

It was obviously too hot to touch. (Doesn’t aluminum burn?!?!) And I couldn’t even think where the fire extinguisher was. (Looking back, I wonder if it would have just sprayed the burning wax all over the place)

I needed water and a way to contain this.

What I chose wasn’t the best idea I ever had, but it made sense at the time. Sorta. I got a small plate off the desk and using a knife slid the holder on to the plate. Very carefully.

I started walking to my bathroom with the focus and intensity of a tightrope walker crossing Niagra falls. One foot in front of the other. Slowly. Slowly. Do not lose your balance with this thing!

Like many plates there was a very slight convex surface to it and there was some definite teetering going on for the small trip.

With visions of the plate shattering from the sudden hot surface on it, I reached the bathroom. And remembered that my sink was plastic. That might not be the best idea.

Second choice, the bathtub. But the curtain was drawn and would I really be able to open it and bend down without spilling flaming wax everywhere?

Hummm…..

I decided that possible burn marks in the sink was worth saving the house and everyone in it. I still stand by that.

I slid the plate/roaring inferno combo as best I could under the tap and turned the cold on quickly. A little wax sprayed on the sink but it wasn’t on fire so that was just peachy. The water first made the same hiss as when it hits a frying pan but most importantly – the flame was no more.

Which was all I really cared about.

The candle holder was scorched black on the inside and the outside had gone from a deep purple to a very light lavender. Plus the bottom wasn’t quite flat any more, it bulges out ever so slightly now.

Last time I was home, Mom had it in the main bathroom as the colour was just right for the rest of the room.

I’ve never quite treated a candle the same way since.

You think I would have learned my lesson the first time. But that’s a much older (and much shorter) story.

Ack.

I tried putting up some pictures tonight. It was suppose to be a thing of beauty…

Here’s the deal, 8 or 10 different 8×10′s of the Eiffel Tower taken at night in two vertical rows. How hard can that be right?

I guestimated the overall size since a major vent keeps me from going too low and I didn’t want to hit the roof so I selected the starting point on the top and I’d make my way down.

I took the width of the wall and divided by 3 to give me the center point of the two rows and I knew the height from the ceiling that I was going to start at. This is so simple, you can’t even call it geometry, right?

Then how the hell did it go so wrong? I only have the first two hangers on top in place, but already it’s out of alignment.

Here’s what I don’t get. I measurered 30cm’s from the ceiling for both, I measure them now and they’re still very much close to that. (Let’s be honest, anything by hand isn’t going to be exact.) But one is obviously lower then the other.

I’m not completely stupid, no matter what people might say. I didn’t just throw the hangers up right away, I checked and rechecked. I measured from the floor, and from the sides several times. And the values all matched. But one was very much lower then the other. But the measurements where the same. From all sides. I could understand if the roof was slanted, that’s why I measured from the floor in the first place but everything says it should be the same height.

But it isn’t.

And someone explain the math to me on this one…. the wall section is 96cm wide. Now, if I divide that by 3, I get 32cm. So, I should have 32cm, then a picture hanger, another 32cm to another picture hanger and that would leave 32cm to the other edge of the wall.

Then why are the pictures closer to each other the edges???

I don’t get it. No sir, I don’t get it.

I actually don’t mind that them being closer, it might even look better that way… but I’m going to have to get a level before I attempt the other hangers.

It’s rather frustrating!

When I was in high school, first year, there was a guy in my grade named Jason Burt. Or at least I think that’s how you spell his name. When we first started Jason was a Prep, or a Prep wanna be. He bought the clothes, did his hair just right, tried so damn hard to be one of those kids. But it just didn’t stick, ya know?

It wasn’t him and everyone knew it.

But he had money and money buys everything. I was not one of I those kids (not that Booth really had them to begin with but there was a minor social stratification) so I don’t have all the details but it was pretty obvious looking back & at the time. Money bought weed, weed made him popular. Thus the tragic cycle that’s been filmed time and time again.

I believe it was my second year, grade 11, that I was sitting near a heater across from my locker (which was close to Jason’s) reading when he said to me,

Hey Wayne, have you ever seen hash before?

Being the awkward youth I was (am, except for the youth part) I said no and – once he graciously showed me – I acted nonchalant and sat back down to continue reading. At this point he had changed noticeably, his hair was purple (a really beautiful shade of purple at that, I’ve never really seen it again) and he was more of a skater (well, what passed for one in Newfoundland at the time) then anything else. Tho I don’t think I ever actually saw him with a skateboard.

Grade 12, that’s when things started to get weird. He just looked like a mess all the time and his hair was no longer purple, but this nasty mottled bleached white. When you could see it and he didn’t have his toque pulled low to his eyes above that parka he was enveloped in. I can’t remember all of the stories, but the two that stick out both involve the photo darkroom (which was little used at that point and pretty much the only thing on the 3rd floor of one of the buildings). One was that he was caught with his pants down (literally) with his girlfriend, some leggy blond from Iceland or something. And the other was when the school learned that he had been living in the room for a few days (maybe weeks?). He’d climb up there after school and play Phantom of the Opera. Crazy.

I never saw him again after high school. If I had my yearbooks with me I’d scan his pictures and paste them here so you could see him for yourself. Legend has it that him and his crew (and by crew I’m assuming addicts) were looking for an apartment downtown with the only requirement being that there was a stove.

A few years ago, well probably more then a few now, there was a story on the news about someone bringing a suitcase of weed into St. John’s from Vancouver at the airport. This was pretty big news at the time ’cause everyone thought it was pretty stupid to even think of it. I’ve never heard truth behind it, but the rumor is that the guy was Jason Burt.