now to finally clean the kitchen after our weekend of victory

Now that was a SPLENDID weekend.

Nicole and I hosted a pot-luck at my place on Friday, based on a delicious giant ham and a big dead bird. I also made Eight Hour Eight Bean & Lentil soup for the vegans and vegetarians, which takes more than eight hours, but involves eight hours of constant stirring, as well as potatoes, steamed broccoli, and garlic portobello mushrooms with red peppers. It was an old-fashioned feast, and about twenty wonderful people came, most with their own delightful contributions, like home-made pulled pork sandwiches or berry wine. My oven lied a little about how hot it was, so we didn’t get to eat any chicken until around 9:30, but excepting that: COMPLETE SUCCESS. We all had so much food and good company that the last guest didn’t stumble out to a cab until 2 a.m. (Tony, sadly, didn’t make it until after midnight, as work prevented him from catching an earlier bus into town, but I set aside a plate for him.) Once again, thank you to everyone!

Saturday was just as great, as it was Duncan’s Dress-Up-Like-Duncan Surprise Birthday Party and A Mad Dash for the Down & Out: Tom Waits Tribute Night! I went to his party dressed as Cake Fight Duncan, in boxer shorts with a cake crown made of a birthday card and safety pins. It was a pleasure to attend, even though we left early to make sure we would get to Tom Waits night in time to get in, and it was a pleasure to catch up with some people I hardly ever see.

The Tom Waits Tribute Night was another sort of thing altogether. Completely incredible, it was gloriously mad gypsy dirty yet soulful and sweet, like circus music dancing through love songs with boots on. Some of the acts played it sinister, sandpaper rough and intense, while others sang as if their honeyed throats were on fire, a broken hearted sound that could only be put out with poetry or glass. My heart could have burst, it was so full with joy and pride for my friends. It was an astounding show, as memorable as a favourite birthday, as inspiring as only an insanely talented trumpet player twisting out a solo on top of a hammond organ can be. I’d tell you some highlights, but I’m sure if I tried, I’d describe the whole show.

The after party was pretty nice too. I spent most of it on the couch, curled up by a fire, swaying into the early morning surrounded by warmth and more music, singing a little and catching up with old acquaintances I dearly adore. Tony and I were almost the last to leave, starting our walk home just before dawn, safe from the chill with each other. We lucked upon five raccoons after only a block or two, a family, maybe, playing together, foraging along the sidewalk. When we got close, we stood very still, until they got used to us as we crept along beside them. One of them, slightly braver than the rest, tiny paw raised, body tense with investigation, came up and touched my leg three times, like casting a spell. It worked, we were enchanted, and smiled all the way home.

Sunday we spent almost the entire day cuddled up in bed, exhausted from being up so late, but glad for it. We forgot completely about the live Jonsi webcast concert, so we watched movies on my laptop, (Return to Oz, Reign of Assassins, & Ghostrider), and poked at the internet until it gave us some of what we need for Halloween, content anyway. Amazon provided Laika’s dog costume trimmings, minus a collar and dogtag, and another site had actual soviet space patches covered in bad-ass rockets and lightning. The next thing we need are matching flight suits, but I’ll be in Seattle next weekend, and there’s a rather epic military surplus store there that should set us up. Aside from that, the only thing missing are my four antennae, which I expect to find at Circuit City or a Radio Shack.


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.

there was cake & babaganoush.

365 day twenty-nine: radiation
365: twenty-nine

The Sigur Rós film, unsurprisingly, was exceptionally nice. In order of approximate appearance, thank you to Karen, Joshua, Ray, Bob, Frank, Richard, Robin, Keith, Anna, Beth, Kyle, Tarek, and Jesse. It was lovely to have you over. I say that, of course, not having seen the dishes left over by the light of day, but I’m almost entirely certain I’ll say it then too. Really. Probably. It’s likely. And with that, it’s quarter past three in the morning. Time for bed.

I need distraction, what about you?

Hobo Party!

Dress up as one of the John Hodgman’s 700 Hobos!

April 28th! 7pm!

The Concrete Lean-to on Richards and Smithe (Michael‘s house)!

Step 1: Pick a hobo name from THE LIST, (pictures are also included, if you need insight into how best to bring out your inner hobo nature).

Step 2: Dress as that hobo. (I am #253: The Young Churchill’s Hated Bride).

Step 3: Come to the party and mingle with all hobokind!

If you want to head over to Sin City at Richards on Richards later on in the night, try to dress as a sexy hobo, or bring an outfit to change into.

BYOB, there will be food, a pool table, and general socializing…as HOBOES!

who wants to make cake?

Wednesday, April 11th is the birth of Anton Szandor LaVey, founder of the Church of Satan.

To celebrate, we will be usurping Michael Elliot‘s hot tub in honour of DJ Spaz Mike‘s birthday.
He is now a grown-up and should be shown the error of his pure and pretty electrotrash ways.

All are welcome. Chocolate is encouraged, as are naughty underthings.

this event is downtown, at smythe & richards
either call or leave a comment for directions

Festivities commence at 7pm.

who’s got my copy of Quills? either copy.

Nick Petrie is having his annual Club 23 West Birthday bash this Friday, January 5th.

If you know who that is (or think you can fake it) you’re invited.

I’m not sure when it starts, but I’m assuming 9.

edit: for those early bird types, festiviaties begin at 7 pm at The Jupiter Room, upstairs behind the Mac at Bute & Davie. (I’m glad it’s still there. I really used to like that place).

People aren’t going to Club 23 West, (which is at 23 wCordova), until 10:30. Cover is free between 10 – 10:30, though, so some of us are going there earlier.

I’m beginning to consider dancing for money

Ink is handicapped, in a way, because you can blow up a man with gunpowder in half a second, while it may take twenty years to blow him up with a book. But the gunpowder destroys itself along with its victim, while a book can keep on exploding for centuries. -Christopher Morley, writer (1890-1957)

I’ve submitted a story to Life For Change, an on-line writing contest. It’s $100 for the author of the story with the most votes. It’s a newer site, only active since January, but there’s been two winners so far, and I hope to at least be short-listed for the next draw. Course, I need people to vote for me, that’s how all these work. This means you.

Thank you to Adam, Andrew, Angus, Avi, Brian, Bruce, Christopher, Chris, Christaline, David, Dominique, Duncan, Ed, Erin, Gary, Eva, Gord, Heath, Jacques, Jer, Jordan, Keith, Kyle, Liam, Lung, Lee, Luciano, Navi, Nick, Patti, Paula, Michael, Mike, Mike, Sam, Sara, Sarah, Stephen, Steven, Simon, Travis, Robin, Ray, Reine, Ross, Ryan, Roger, Wayne, Vicki, and the other five to ten people who’s names have momentarily escaped me.

Next time you’re all signing a damned guest book.

I’ve made a Flickr Pool for party pictures, fashionably late birthday. Pass it on.

Roger, Jacques brother, was talking with someone about a car for sale. If this is you or you know who it is, could you get in touch with me? Roger was an older fellow with the short sandy hair who came later, the one with the amazingly inconvenient talent of avoiding being in any of the photos I currently have at my disposal.

And again, whoever forgot their keys, if they’d like them back, they should get in touch with me. (Otherwise, I’m just going to start using their nifty light-up key-chain). My Outlook thrashed itself this past weekend, I can’t get at my invitation list to ask around properly, so I’m relying purely on word-of-mouth. The more of you send out feelers and harassment, the less likely someone will be panicking sometime this week.

Andrew, Sarah, Ethan, and Alicia, you still have books here that you put dibs on.

July 10th was Nikola Tesla‘s 150th anniversary. Tesla, the archetypical mad scientist, invented radio and alternating current, set the world record for man-made lightning, and was nemesis to none other than Edison himself, who was entirely a prick to him his entire career. After an intensely accomplished life, he died destitute and alone in a pigeon filled suite in New Yorker Hotel.

Part of the various celebrations, (2006 has been declared The Year of Nikola Tesla by Croatia, Serbia, and UNESCO. Croatia already has him on their money), is going to be a Christopher Nolan film based on The Prestige, a captivating novel by Christopher Priest, starring David Bowie as Tesla. In 1980, Orson Welles produced a Yugoslavian film named Tajna Nikole Tesle, (The Secret of Nikola Tesla), in which Welles himself played the part of Tesla’s patron, J.P. Morgan, but I don’t think it’s going to match up to this. I had such a fierce secret crush on Tesla when I was growing up that it was silly, so this looks like it’s going to be entirely too sexy for words. Seriously, casting David Bowie as Nikola Tesla, you can’t actually craft a hotter idea than that. Not unless you somehow throw Phillip K. Dick in there as played by another David Bowie. Here’s a link to the trailor.