Yesterday 0 writing and 2.0 hours.
Church in the morning, took the bus to get there and it all worked out perfectly, except drinking that Timmy Ho’s coffee I bought coming up the hill from Sapperton Station made me so uncomfortably warm I spent the service in a state resembling that of a dish of colloid. It was a good service, and would have been even better if the person living next to the Hall hadn’t been running a fucking weed whacker at irregular and annoyingly loud intervals during the exact time the service was running.
After the service I went to New West Station and waited in front of the Landmark for Mike and he was frantic about being late and I told him to relax. When we bought the tickets, we went to the theatre, sat down, and the movie started, so nobody had to sit through the trailers.
Age of Ultron is a colourful, noisy, spirited MESS. There are a couple of funny lines, and that’s it; it achieves spectacle without providing more than a tiny nod to anything resembling emotional connection, or pulling more than cursory nods at performance out of the principals. I have no intention of watching it again. I was an idiot… we really should have gone to Mad Max, but there’s no point wailing over spilled digital.
After the movie we had a late lunch at the Hub. Great food and a wonderful view from the deck, but I’ve now lowered my expectations of their service to the point where I’m tempted to give my food orders to the manager rather than the assortment of Sand Snakes (think stunning, raven haired and sorta hostile) they seem to have hired as servers. But it was a yummy lunch, srsly.
After that, we saw Katie and Alex. Happy sigh.
Then we went on an errand for Mike. While I was sitting in the car looking through the hole in the roof at the brilliant green of the tree and the glorious blue and white of our unforecasted sky, I completely missed the accident; two bicyclists got into a rear ender with each other cause, hey, no brake lights, and all I could hear through the roof was two dudebros saying, “Sorry, man, jeez I’m sorry.” No injuries except to pride.
Mike was laughing when he came back the car, “Can’t get more Vancouver than that.”
Then we went to the Astoria and I had a grapefruit flavoured beer and no word of a lie I used to think I’d drink any beer, but this stuff was, in the memorable phrase of Dr. Filk, AUTHENTICALLY VILE. We have reached peak craft beer, son.
Then we went to the Hastings Sauna. My spidey sense (I’ve had something resembling prodrome for a week now) told me to stay the hell out of the sauna for more than a few minutes at a time. I did that and I believe I was wise. Even so the heat and eucalyptus made me feel very relaxed, and they play spa music in the front room, so I just lay there like a dead thing listening to desultory harp music with the oscillating fan blowing over my sweating and corpulent form while Mike roasted himself. Ah, English. It can make anything sound beautiful.
Then Mike gave me a lift home and I collapsed, while I realized I’d left my phone at Mike’s place when we stopped off there to get Mike’s bag. He’ll drop it off sometime after he achieves consciousness today.
And then I couldn’t sleep, and couldn’t sleep, and couldn’t sleep. It was one before I slept and seven when I woke up. I feel okay though.
Today writing, laundry and cleaning, and ignoring the stuff on the PVR until Jeff gets home.
