Happy 40th Warren!
I was going to take a firing squad photo, blindfolded against a wall with a cigarette and a party hat, but I didn’t have a party hat.
to my favourite dirty old man
Tag: warren
FREAKANGELS: a webcomic
FREAKANGELS: it’s gone live.
I just lost two years worth of writing to that damned widget
Formerly the Symphony of Lights, this event marks when all of Vancouver crushes into English Bay to watch one of the biggest firework festival contests in the world.
Who wants to meet up ahead of time to go down together?
My vote says that we have dinner on the Drive around 6-ish, likely at Fet’s, and then take transit down as a group. The people who were pushing for dinner at Fet’s have cancelled. I’m throwing my lot in with Micheal. I have a tried and tested true method for making my way through the crowds to the very best beach-side seating downtown, and the press afterward isn’t so bad for those simply willing to wait it out.
Wednesday, July 25 — Spain
Saturday, July 28 — Canada
Wednesday, August 1 — China
Saturday, August 4 — Grande Finale
Each show is approximately 25 minutes and set to music. If you’re watching from downtown, which is what I do, music is provided through a public address system. For those in Vanier Park or Kitsilano, there are generally enough people with radios to make up for the lack of city-provided speakers.
let me just photoshop you into my schedule
Thanks to Warren, I’ve been in the number ten slot on BlogPulse, (an automated blog trend discovery system), for two days in a row now and I’m listed as the 34th most popular blog.
If I were the sort of person to use exclamation points, that would be a few of them right there.
I’m doing civil war themed pin-up photography with Spider Robinson’s photographer before the garden party today. I’m not sure how that sentence came into reality, but I blame living on Commercial Drive. He’s making me breakfast, then we’re going to figure out how to fake vintage lingerie.
Montreal team announces advance in HIV research.
Oliver and I have found ourselves a month together held in our hands like sticky string, (fun, wonderful, but what the hell is it?). We’re still being late to everything because of the trouble we have dragging our bodies from one another. I should have left the house already, but the chance at internet is too good to pass up. My evening house, my fairy-tale, it has a computer but no connection. I am cut off when the sun sets. I am directionless, trapped in warmth and white sheets, unable to find purchase in the ether. My fingers tap away on count-tops and tables, asking for information, trying to morse code the air itself. Late at night, I look down into my unemployment and try to wonder what’s going to happen.
I never heard back from the people who asked me to be their company blogger, Telus didn’t hire me, though the interview seemed almost perfunctory, but I have extra work again on Monday, a paid focus group on Tuesday evening, and a freelance odd-job coming from RipTown Media. The longest I’ve been without gainful employment, but somehow I’m keeping it all together. The utility companies are going to threaten me again soon, but I’m hoping that I can cover that by taking Robin out and about the town for a little Social Therapy.
To the people who bought mp3’s off me. Yes, they are coming, and I am most dreadfully sorry it has been taking this long. My microphone died, leaving me with little equipment options. I have been using my mother’s home-studio, but it’s all the way across town, which can be literally hours away by bus, and I’ve been scrabbling so much that I haven’t had a day to devote. (Some of the work has been finished, but I thought it would only be fair that everyone have to wait together. Think ‘according to the principles of Mercerism.’). I’m planning on going over to her house early Wednesday and not leaving until everything is finished or the busses stop running, whichever comes first.