Tag: clinton

Geocities + Web 2.0 = Myspace

Toot-a-Lute has put me in charge of their website. This makes me happy, as it needs a hell of an overhaul, and they’re a good group of people. They deserve a better on-line face. I’m thinking something sparse and clean, with a little bit of edging in green. In the interests of up-keep, would anyone with appropriate photos send them to me? Your work will be fully credited, with a link to you when possible.

Nouvelle Vague is coming to Vancouver!

So I’ve returned from Clinton, which wasn’t as strange as I thought it would be. In spite of my worries, I fit in well. It turned out I had fifty or so semi-unexpected friends and acquaintances there. More than I knew the names of, by far. As soon as we arrived, some pirates tucked us into a good camp spot and we were told to make ourselves at home at a number of different camps. Everyone was surprised to see me, but glad. It was fun though the sun beat us hard enough for me to question its self-esteem.

On Saturday, after an initial exploratory wander, Isabella tied me to her merchant tent and put up for ransom. Eventually James set out with this news and fetched Oliver back to rescue me, who manfully offered them his accordion. A price too steep, we decided, so instead we dressed him up in women’s clothing and took pictures. Emancipation was not so easy, as then she wickedly tied him up too.

Later in the evening, we started a dance circle and I taught steps to people and sang with the band. I’d forgotten what that could be like. Lantern lit and dust everywhere, hallelujah. Singing isn’t as terrifying as I remember it to be. It got dark as we were there. I partnered with Gerald for Morris dancing after that. I don’t think I would have gone through with it had I been paired off with anyone else. He’s a lovely giant of a man with tawny gold hair longer than my arm, and our crazies are so compatible that I used his machete instead of a stick during one of our rehearsal run-throughs and the only thing he did was laugh. See, I had this problem where I was breaking his sticks, all of them, until he finally gave up and, because he’s big enough to do so, used a length of tree trunk instead.

Sunday was more of the same. During the day was socializing with the ridiculous number of people I knew and wandering about with Oliver, who didn’t know a tenth of them, playing music, and eventually visiting the lake. It was atrociously cold. When people tell you something is brisk, what they mean to say is, “I would be a coward if I didn’t jump in and cowards are reviled, therefore…” I don’t recommend it. The chance to wash clean of the desert was nice, but the price was a little too high for comfort.

We were dancing and singing again by the time the sun set. When it came to be night, too dark to dance in large groups, I took out my chemical packets of powder and threw them in fires as we traveled from camp to camp, acting as an alchemist, bruising the flames into different beautiful colours. Blues and greens and purples. Instead of a lantern, I used extra long sparklers. The light was fantastical, radiating magic to the drunk people who were watching and didn’t quite understand. I felt like I was creating a circus all by myself. It was almost as glorious as fireworks.

On a more somber now, Veronica and I sorted out as much as is possible in such circumstances. We sat under the shooting stars and didn’t quite cry together, but it was close. We are in sympathy, we both know where the other person is, and I’m glad it worked out. I believe she’ll take time to vanish for a little while, but we’ll carve out a place to be friends again soon. I’m proud of her as I’m proud of myself. I was going to do what she’s doing now, and walk away, but she beat me to it. Honourable we. I’d like to catch her as she’s falling, but it’s not my place. I hope she knows I understand how it’s a lonely thing to be, brave.

Nicole is needing a two bedroom apartment for September. She’s looking for $1000/month maximum, East Van from Commercial drive area to Kits, and nothing over 30th Ave. Laundry on-site and with a deck or a yard. It’s a tricky one, but if you see anything, please drop her a line at 604-306-6188.

to keep you damned kids busy and off my lawn


the kiss
Originally uploaded by Agata….

Icelandic nitro-jeep hydroplaning.

The click of teeth. I kissed his mouth and felt like Salome.

Being held, it’s that feeling, being held. A stone beneath my feet, the desire to both crawl inside and all consume.

Part of my recent news is that I’ve agreed to go to the SCA Clinton Wars this year, the west coast’s biggest medieval nerd-prom. I have resisting invitation for approximately half a decade, but I’ve finally been given an offer I can’t refuse. Terrifying, but lovely and enchanting all at once. I am both honoured and respected.

Duncan has epitomized my Clinton warnings all at once:

“Clinton’s a hoot. I hope you have fun. I got married there to five women when I went. and then their head concubine killed me the next day. and one night I was a woman. and I got burnt to a crisp. The battle’s frickin’ awesome to watch though.”

For those not stupid and or insane, this weekend can still be an exciting slew of events.

Friday is the very last day of Boca Del Lupo‘s astonishingly delightful The Shoes That Were Danced To Pieces, their yearly “Free, Outdoors, All-ages, Roving Spectacular” performed in Stanley Park. (At Picnic Place, just past Prospect Point, because you know how much we all love alliteration). I went today and, hours later, my face still aches from smiling so much. Their exceedingly clever fairy-tale, full of self referentials and witty tongue-in-cheek, pulls you through the forest, following the often prettily singing actors as they dance from aerial wires or hang in nets from high up in the trees. Tom Jones does an excellent job aiming humour at the children, but the over-all charm is barely limited by the format. It’s free admission, but you have to call ahead and put your name down, because spaces fill up. 604-684-2622.

Later on Friday, Tiffany is in town with her Taiko Drumming show: JODAIKO, presented by Pride in Art, Friday, August 4, 8:00pm, at the Roundhouse Community Centre, (181 Roundhouse Mews). Tickets: $10 -$18 sliding scale, available at the door and at Little Sister’s Books, (1238 Davie St, 1-800-567-1662), and Rhizome Café, (317 East Broadway, 604-872-3166).

Saturday is the DykeMarch from McSpadden Park, (fourth and Victoria), to Grandview Park. It starts at noon and ends by dissolving into a party, the Dykemarch Festival, at one o’clock.

Either that, or the Powell St. Festival, themed this year as Memory Streams: 30 years of Japanese Canadian Arts on Powell Street. It’s fairly standard culture-fest fare – taiko drumming, sumo wrestling, martial arts demos, folk and modern dance, Kokoro, alternative pop/rock/urban music, visual arts, film/video, etcetera, as well as the expected array of Japanese food, crafts and displays.

Sunday, of course, is the Pride Parade from 12 – 2. The route along Beach Avenue is the same every year, starting from Denman and Robson and ending at Pacific and Thurlow, by the Aquatic Center. This year there’s over 130 floats scheduled and approximately 185,000 spectators expected. I recommend heading down early to get good seats, the earlier in the parade, the better, before the performers use up all their energy with booty waving. (Wave at the cow-girls for me, will you?). When the parade ends, it turns into the Sunset Beach Festival, which goes until 6pm.