let me just photoshop you into my schedule

Originally uploaded by y0nderboy.

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.

Apple said it will pay $100 million for a license to use Creative’s patented technology in its iPod music player, settling all legal disputes between the two companies.

not what I thought I’d do

Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.

Charity Larson’s put up another lovely page of Busted Wonder.

Hands like sand falling through water, a smile too of something the same. Eyes that scratch the ceiling of shyness, colour storm-skirting the edges of decency. Laughter of coffee, small movements ducking the head away. Laughter of hiding like inside a box of perfectly warped glass. Hanging a shot to dry between the lips, watching wrist to elbow, it’s recalled in an instant, the taste of soft intimacy holding hands with polished copper, the mix of colours, the white cream roses cloudily blooming in clear licorice alcohol. Lightning and thunder, the gravity hand of wind in the basement, part of later, not yet.

Pick up the gift, make the liquid vanish. Magic tricks, sleight of nothing up my sleeve. Everything will be alright. A toast to sitting here, a toast to being alive and smiling.

I joined a gamelan earlier, helped them carry heavy instruments to a waiting truck behind the Museum of Anthropology. I joined a lesbian burlesque troop the day before and scheduled the day I begin my fencing lessons.

Now Mondays are Korean Movie Night, Tuesdays are Gamelan, Wednesday will be Ghost In The Shell until we’re done, Thursday have fencing, and Fridays will be the Funk-Motown night starting March 3th at the Waldorf, (the day a group of us are going to watch NightWatch on opening night, want to come?). Suddenly I’m having to peer around corners to find time for taxidermy. Unexpected, this shift of personal physics. I feel domestic, tamed.

Here’s a trailer for Harry Kim’s still-in-progress Dave Choe documentary.