leaving for vegas

Sliding exhausted out of Michelle’s black miniature SUV, barely able to focus my eyes after a weekend spent almost entirely awake, I was a bone palace ballet wrestling with an over-sized suitcase and a faulty, tired memory. Trying to be cohesive was like making bets in a burning house.

A flash of David’s fedora perched in the back of Robin’s car before the pretend Sisters of Mercy concert, Michelle and I trying to see, no evidence of people on stage, just lights stabbing through fog, a whole bottle worth of smoke juice drowning them out. Could have been a CD. No one would have known. Dancing later, taking the motorcycle with Joseph, talking relationships in Chinatown, it wasn’t there, I didn’t have it. Relief. Still in the car, safe in Seattle, more safe than this trip.

I was expecting SeaTac to be a mad as rabbits, bruising gauntlet of security questions and TSA horror stories. Instead Virgin Air smiled, took my bag, gave me candy coloured boarding passes like cheerful paint chips, and sent me to the gate without once asking for a passport while Security ignored me past the usual Put Your Stuff Inna Box and Walk This Doorway As We Wave A Wand. It felt nothing short of miraculous, as if I’d stepped back in time somewhere between the front doors and putting my shoes back on. Instead of wasting an hour tediously answering meticulous questions about unessential details of my life, suddenly I was free, soothed, out of the epilepsy lights of the dance club, away from everyone who might want something from me, curled on the floor with Cloud9Dream, pressed tight against a wall of window, watching night planes taxi in. Time to breathe. I felt like I was entering a new age, like on the other side of my flight was a birthday I had somehow missed.

starring that 1 guy as a scruffy, scruffy bass player. how shocking

As a one hundred percent fantastic welcome back celebration, Duncan‘s using his night at the weekly secret film school to present…

a movie so good that it was introduced to me as a way to get into my pants.
(Just typing that in caps sets the music off in my head)

“Space travel has become a dirty way of life dominated by derelicts, grease monkeys, and hard-boiled interplanetary traders such as Samuel Curtis. Written, directed and starring Cory McAbee of the legendary cult band The Billy Nayer Show, this sci-fi, musical-western uses flinty black and white photography, rugged Lo-Fi sets and the spirit of the final frontier. We follow Curtis on his Homeric journey to provide the all-female planet of Venus with a suitable male, while pursued by and enigmatic killer, Professor Hess. The film features music by The Billy Nayer Show and some of the most original rock ‘n’ roll scenes ever committed to film.”

Tuesday, December 9, doors at 7:30, Vancouver Film School, 400 W. Hastings Street

facebook event page


Hannekuweenmas house-warming party at Jhayne and David’s place
(it’s not our fault he wasn’t moved in by October 31st)

365 days one hundred & sixty-two: being my friend

Saturday, December 13, 2008 at 11:00am – Sunday, December 14, 2008 at 7:00am

An all day non-denominational, costumes optional, holiday social and house party
to celebrate David moving in, with crepes in the morning, tea in the afternoon,
and candle-lit silent black and white horror films until dawn.

In regards to BYO:
Bring your own syrup, eggs, fruit, or toppings, bring tea, cookies, or pie,
bring flowers, feathers, or figs, whatever you feel appropriate,
but most importantly, bring yourself.

Extra guests welcome within moderation.

Facebook event link.