For you, the dress code is casual.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

I'm so cool.

I didn't just buy regular duct tape to tape up my scooter seat with.


I bought camouflage duct tape! Woot! Heh. Can't be bothered to give a guy my seat for a WEEK to put a new cover on it. I'll take the Surrey road and do the workin' man fix, thankyewverymuch.

Oh, and today is a GOOD day.

Pictures of duct-taped seat to follow camping! Gonna take the seat off and screw with it by the campfire. (Camping = two nights on Galiano Island. AKA heaven for $14 a night.)

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Summer, Wherefore Art Thou?

Summer's been a write-off. Everyone I know wonders what the hell happened to this summer. Me, I thought it was just me and my job, but it turns out to be a Vancouver-region phenomena: The Disappearing Summer.

Whatever. I'm camping this weekend and I'm dressing WARM, man.

I'm really looking forward to fall though: A season that makes no promises. Things die, weather gets cold, wind returns, musty scents fill the air, and nature rears her ugly head. But it is what it is, and we know what to expect. Wherever it starts off, you KNOW it's going rapidly downhill, and you KNOW it's gonna get worst before it gets better. Gotta love the honesty.

Summer, though, can lie. Nice trees and flowers, a sun-filled sky, and yet, far below seasonal temperatures. Global warming? My ass.

But I'm all right with it. It's been the right season at the right time for me, with the right amount of let-downs in all the right places. It's helped screw my head on right, and none too soon.

This week is about making choices for me, and it's an interesting time to be a fly on the wall of my head. Pity I don't feel like discussing anything.

I've felt like that a lot this summer. I dislike writing right now. Writing is, by its very nature, an exercise in truth. If you can't be honest, why write? Really, it all comes down to that. Can you be honest with yourself? Can you ask the right questions? Can you get to the truth? If not, then put the fucking pen down. It's just that simple.

Me, I've just not bothered picking up the pen at all, and I cannot tell you how troubling that is to me, or how jarring a disruption it's been to my life. I'm gonna have a lot to say about this one day, methinks, but I'm not sure when One Day is.

Believe me, I'm working on it. Life's got some roadblocks I need to get around, first, but I at least have a sense of a destination in mind. Gimme a few days to figger it all out.

Monday, August 20, 2007

Found on CNN

A 23-year old Serb was found dead and half-eaten in the bear cage of Belgrade Zoo at the weekend during the annual beer festival.

The man was found naked, with his clothes lying intact inside the cage. Two adult bears, Masha and Misha, had dragged the body to their feeding corner and reacted angrily when keepers tried to recover it.

"There's a good chance he was drunk or drugged. Only an idiot would jump into the bear cage," zoo director Vuk Bojovic told Reuters.

Local media reported that police found several mobile phones inside the cage, as well as bricks, stones and beer cans.

Ed. note: Like, wow. How little have I been writing? Okay, well, I'm four days away from a 10-day spell of time off... and I REALLY need a break. Writing will come. Sanity's at a pretty high premium right now. I'm chilling as best I can.

...which tonight means watching Zodiac, David Fincher's brilliant flick du jour. Holy freakin' crap does he do a good job. Fincher's Zodiac kicks the crap outta Spike Lee's Sam. Take dat! And dat! And stay down, bitch! Or something. Anyhow. I have an hour left. The tension's been insanely tight thus far and I'm all in a twist. But that's Fincher for ya. Back to my flick.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Political Brilliance (or somethingmumblegrumble)

Know how to win a constitutional change that'll let you stay in power indefinitely in, say, a place like Venezuela?

At the same time you make that proposal for an amendment, you propose a new law that makes it illegal to have more than a six-hour workday.

Like our good buddy Hugo Chavez has just done here.

But I dunno, limiting 'em to six hours of work'll give them too much time to gripe about other silly amendments of yours, Hugo, like that trifle one where you're urging for stronger powers in government, like not having to wait on expropriation orders when seizing people's assets.

What a very strange man. I'd hate to have to think that George W. Bush was right about anything in the long run, by the way, but this dude's starting to seem a little freakier. "Indefinitely" is a long time.

Monday, August 13, 2007

Oh, Hello

I can't believe I haven't posted in more than a week.

Well, short and sweet: I'm sick. My work week is about the least ideal I could have for being sick, too, and no, I can't take a day off.

In short, I'm pretty bitchy about being sick.

In the good news, though, is that Karl Rove is stepping down off of Bush's staff. THIS is fabulous stuff. Rove sucks ass.

Anyhow. I'm sick! In August. Motherfucking "summer" we're having this year... Jesus.

Sunday, August 05, 2007

Recent Pics

Some photos snapped of late. Dumped some 300 onto the 'puter before shooting another 150 today of the Pride Parade, which you'll see another time.

I call this one "understandably drydocked". I fuckin' love old boats. They look so cool. We had one in my driveway for years. Sigh. /nostalgia off

C'mon. Who can resist writing in the sand at the beach? I went for irony.

St. George's School for Boys. Spooky looking. Any ghosts roaming them thar walls you can tell us of, Whipped Boy?

The cutest stilted little house on the river.

Screw lunch! Give me jellybeans!

The Murakami House.

There was this PSA that won some medals in the "World's Best Commercials" compilation they used to air every Xmas at the Ridge Theatre. It had this huge monster stump with arrows pointing to dots along the rings on which years were written next to the monumental event.

Things like, "The birth of Beethoven", "The great fire of London" (16th c), "1492 - Columbus discovers America", etc. Then, finally, pointing at an outer ring, the year 1967, "The birth of the motherfucker who cut down this tree."

So you know what I'm thinking when I see this one.

I dunno what kinda flower this is (not a "flowers" girl) but it sure is purty.