Settler words&music in S'ólh Téméxw, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming soon, Hair Sinister after that. —Restore All Indigenous Lands!
A map of the grow ops in Toronto. The reason I’m posting this is because if you did the same map of Vancouver, you wouldn’t be able to read the street names.
I post this link as possibly being useful to my mother in generating pictures in collage format, you know, family history pictures.
I know we all have favourite charities, but this looks kinda useful.
Set list included
I Zimbra
Strange Overtones
One Fine Day
Help Me Somebody
Life During Wartime
Crosseyed and Painless
Take me to the River
Heaven
Born Under Punches
AND IT WAS GREAT. Taking transit to the Queen Elizabeth Theater was easy and quick.
Now all I gotta do is stay out of the kitchen so I don’t eat or drink anything and thus don’t mess up my test results today. Then I get the 5 suckered octopot that is a holter monitor off and get my bloodwork finished. And then I’m going to come home and maybe do some domestic stuff (we are watching the microwave slowly die and may need to replace it) and then maybe Keith comes over with his friend A. the anime fan who is from Germany, and maybe they won’t come over because she’ll be all tuckered out from meeting her own rellies here in town. They have met IRL and stayed in touch on line. Then I get ready for my date tonight, I’m taking him to Horizon and hopefully I won’t be late like I was last time and we’ll be able to watch the sunset from up on that hill, which on a fine day is really pretty. In the middle there I will likely do some cooking – I’m thinking rum balls – and watching a movie – but on the other hand I’m thinking I want to get out of the movie phase and go back to reading books, so I’m also thinking a trip to the library, except I can’t find my stupid library card.
And I want my hat. I misplaced my hat and I am going to see if I can get it back.
The sun has been out in Vancouver for days, the big dump of snow I gloomily forecast for the middle of February has failed to appear (Yay!!! I was wrong!), I got another date for Saturday night (this time I’m taking him to Horizons, my dime), I’m going to get a holter monitor this morning (and prob’ly half a dozen tubes of blood, blech), I’ll see David Byrne tonight with Jeff (Kopper indicated interest, note to self, talk to her before buying tix), Jeff and I watched the last half of Them (the CLASSIC giant insect fear film) and the new CSI and we ate curried chickpeas and brown rice for dinner. I made pudding out of the leftover rice (I should probably get it off the back deck before the burglars get into it).
It’s now clear and cold in the city; there’s a skin of frost on the surfaces which will vanish with the sun.
These are the times that try men’s souls. In the course of our galaxy’s history, the people of the Milky Way have rallied bravely whenever the rights of homo sap have been threatened. Today, a new crisis has arisen. The Milky Way Transit Authority, better known as the M.T.A., is attempting to levy a burdensome tax on the population in the form of a far increase. Citizens, hear me out! This could happen to you!
(Eight bar guitar, banjo introduction)
Well, let me tell you of the story of a man named Charley
on a tragic and fateful day.
He put ten g-notes in his pocket, kissed his wife and family,
went to ride on the M.T.A.
Chorus:
Well, did he ever return? No, he never returned and
his fate is still unknown.
(What a pity! Poor ole Charlie. Shame and scandal.
He may ride forever. Just like Paul Revere.)
He may ride forever in those graffiti spattered rockets.
He’s the man who never returned.
Charlie handed in his gnotes at the Galactic Center Station
and he changed for Sag A Rocket.
When he got there the conductor told him, “Five more gnotes.”
Charlie couldn’t find any in his pocket.
(Chorus)
Now, all night long Charlie rides through the station,
crying, “What will become of me?!!
How can I afford to see my sister in Nu Aquilae
or my cousin in P Cygni?”
(Chorus)
Charlie’s wife goes down to the Galactic Center Station
every day at quarter past two,
And down the disk accretion she hands Charlie a sandwich
as the rocket comes rumblin’ through.
(Chorus)
Now, you galactic citizens, don’t you think it’s a scandal
how the people have to pay and pay?
Fight the fare increase! Vote for Creede Lambard!
Get poor Charlie off the M. T. A.
(Chorus)
He’s the man who never returned.
He’s the man who never returned.
Ain’t you Charlie?
It had never occurred to me to put those two words together in that order, but here they are in an article about semen allergy in women. I was going to write more on the subject, but I’ve been tasteless enough.
Don’t I look pleased with myself. Thanks Lady Miss Banjola.
Health Wolves was written as an insta-filk at the Saturday Brunch. I missed the Saturday brunch last year and this year I got to sit next to Frank Hayes. I would describe him as acerbically charming o.0 and exhausted.
Frank “U Scum” Hayes, sufferer of “Frank Hayes Disease” and also the writer of “Never Set the Cat on Fire”.
Yes, that is a homemade theremin, and I heard it, and it rocked, but the sign says, “Will not play for $1/minute.”
All pics credit Lady Miss B.
Biggest space disaster. Dr. Filk told me about this some years ago.
Gahan Wilson explains it all for you. The SF movie plot generator.
Oh look, a rat playing banjo…. and standup bass.
Once upon a time I made up a character named Pockets. She was an alien and she carried everything she needed. Now, there’s Eric le Fou.
Fellow Performers! How to craft a good set list.
You will notice my mother’s blog is now on the blogroll.
Gerald dear, when are you going to start blogging????
I fed Katie and Dax last night, at Brentwood because Dax is not 100% with the welcome mat here and Katie didn’t bother telling me until I was committed that Dax was with her, then came home and saw Jeff hauling in a ten kilo bag of flour, which is a good thing, because there was no flour in the house, and we all know what that means. No waffles. I’m not saying that me continuing to live with Jeff is contingent upon me making waffles at least once a week, but I’d like to not take any chances.
The Luddite resurfaced in my inbox long enough to forward about ten links to educational videos from Vivid Entertainment. I only watched half of one; I am not sure I want to advertise myself as being someone who needs remedial sex ed.
I highly recommend 101 Reykjavik.
Long, interesting and good article. I first ran into this guy on Michael Ruppert’s website. He still makes sense.
Oh and here’s the new HD Simpsons intro.
Here’s a link to how to see the planets visible with the naked eye this month.
I got to see the campsite where Mr. E. Man spends his leisure time and meet a couple of the folks who hang out there. (One of whom said “Did you bring your mandolin?” and appeared disappointed when I said, “Uh, no, seeing as how the plan was walking around in muddy places and eating in a nice restaurant.” I feel like I’ve fallen into a rabbit hole where everybody I meet is predisposed to like me.) I can’t talk about the campsite because otherwise I’d be giving away a secret about the best kept secret in the lower mainland. Let’s just put it this way… it SO has the vibe of Red Deer Lodge except that it is on the ocean. And you are allowed to have campfires 24/7/365.
Then we went and ate dinner at Iguana’s in White Rock, and listened to live music (one guy and one guitar, and sheesh was he talented) and then I went home. The owner of Iguana’s hugged my date on the way in the door. Yeah, I don’t think he had a problem getting a reservation. Oh, and by the way, it was the best table in the house.
Daughter Katie bailed on an afternoon of girly fun today (wa) because she is sick with what sounds like bronchitis. Smart grandparents will call her and commend her. But then she’s back at school tomorrow so I’ll see her at Brentwood after work. I think I’ll buy her some foodicles and catch up with her.
Today, Nascar. Tonight, hopefully, I’m feeding Mike and Jeff dinner. Something nice, with potatoes.
Today, NO LAUNDRY. I’m finally caught up. In fact, unless it involves moving my Valentines printing press set-up back into my room I’m not doing ANYTHING. Except listening to music and maybe getting another song written down.
