Longbaugh: You know what I’m gonna tell God when I see him? I’m gonna tell him I was framed.

I can’t turn my back on you for a minute. I’m in from the cold, inspired by darling gunn to fix my dye, so wandering on-line while waiting for all the coloured goo to set. I look and it’s like Warren wrote the news on an especially bitter-hate-world sort of day.

Australia’s on a second night of Race Riots.

The United States, (as insidiouswanker points out), “always so fond of criticizing China for human rights transgressions, just keeps on running with that human rights abuse.” As an aside to that, The United States now ranks behind South Africa in civil rights. (for counter-point: A stylish music clip setting to get the vote message across to South Africans.)

All in the same month, a cram school teacher murdered a twelve year-old student, a Peruvian killed a 7 year-old and left her body in a cardboard box, another 7 year-old was stabbed to death in Ibaraki, and a high school girl was murdered by a fellow student because he thought she was “going cold” on him.

As if to top it, the State of California has just executed a man nominated five times for the Nobel Peace Prize.

What the hell people? Do we have to come over there and fuck-start your heads? Make where you live a better place to be, already.
Spread this link around. This one right here.

(my suitcase in my best friend)

super sexe
Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.

Architecture to stretch out in without scraping my fingers on roughly green glass walls. There are no mountains to hem people in here, no ocean to swallow their gaze completely to the exclusion of culture. I blend in. In Vancouver, I stand out in the street as something odd to look at. It’s like a weight lifted, all those people looking elsewhere. I don’t feel like a bare gallery of this hat, these clothes. Instead, beautiful pieces of public graffiti sprayed onto the brick skin of buildings a century old reach out to me and remove weight from my shoulders.

My trip to Toronto is confirmed: I leave on Monday, Dec 19, at 6.15 on train #69.
I return to Montreal on Friday Dec 23.

I’m living with James at Sherbrooke and St. Laurant. It reminds me of the first time I lived in Toronto, when my apartment was at Queen and Spadina. There’s a similar sense of being exactly in the right place downtown to properly chase dragons. It’s like Sigur Ros is playing underneath every creaking step I take on snow, lending me magic and grandeur. Tkch, tkch, tkch. Everything is dusted white. I don’t pad around here. It’s impossible. My feet are encased in big clunky shoes. My feet are clumsy. My feet are walking somewhere they’ve never been. Every curb is a cliff leading down to some improbable country where I’m glad I don’t know the language.

Yesterday, like the day before, I walked for hours. I haven’t done anything yet, but I’ve seen.