35 most recent entries
|
| Dreampepper 35 most recent entries |
|
Luxim labs recently unveiled an incredibly energy efficient light bulb that packs more luminosity than a street lamp into a pill-sized form factor. Each bulb is filled with argon gas, which turns to plasma when electricity is focused through it. The energy is driven to the bulb without electrodes. The resulting light is intensely bright and mirrors the quality of light radiated by the sun, yet is produced by one of the smallest, most energy efficient light sources we’ve seen.I read about these brilliant innovations, and love them, but wonder if they'll spread down from the top in enough time to help. Most of the light bulbs in my house are the twirled glass energy savers, my roommate and I trek across the alley to illicitly use the neighbor's blue bins, we now have a balcony worm farm compost, and we shop as conscious consumers, as ethically as we can for every sort of product, be it food or clothing or cleaners. The same goes, likely, for most of my friends, but not, unfortunately, for the majority. Which makes no sense. From every angle I can see, it's a good idea to go green, even if you're one of the hidebound stalwarts who don't believe the constant, savage news about climate change or the impending food crisis. If we prepare for the worst, we have a chance to handle the worst, if we prepare for nothing, we can't handle anything at all. I think of it as a logic problem, preparing for the future, like Pascal's Wager applied to the environment instead of religion. "If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing" What do you do to try and make a change? 12 comments | post a comment
From Vancouver ACM SIGGRAPH, VISUAL FUTURIST: The Life & Art of Syd Mead. "We are giddy with excitement. Why? Well, we're turning 5 this May, and Syd Mead is coming to help us celebrate with a double feature – a presentation and Q&A with him, followed by a screening of Blade Runner: The Final Cut! Join us for the fun on May 14 at the Empire Theatre on Granville St. It has been years since Syd Mead, one of the most influential designers of our times, has been to Vancouver. He'll be speaking about his approach to design and the visionary work with which he has made his indelible mark on popular culture and our perceptions of the future. But wait – there's more! Our long-time supporter, Sophia Books, will be there with Syd's latest DVD – you might even be able to get the man himself to sign a copy for you. On top of that, Tangible Interaction is coming back with their Zygotes – a massive interactive hands-on display of fun meeting technology that the whole crowd can take part in. Reserve your tickets now and don't miss out on this huge event!" 6:00 pm: Mixer 7:00 pm: Main Presentation 9:30 pm: Blade Runner: The Final Cut - FREE* * Priority given to main presentation ticket holders Members: $15 / Non-members: $25 / Groups (5+): $20 (online only) Info and online registration: 7 comments | post a comment
 Bike Accident, 2005 by Julie Fullerton Batten From the surreal photography series Teenage Stories, using miniature villages and teenage girls.
I forgot how touch can feel like a shimmering, slow, soft electrocution. Waking up next to someone has been bringing me back to myself, grounding me in the rhythm of living again.
via mordicai 16 comments | post a comment
 http://thingsididlastnight.com
 To facilitate this, she's selling as many of her non-essentials as possible, this includes silver, books, furniture, mirrors, tea things, antiques, oddities, and almost anything shiny and interesting you can imagine. (Sorry everyone, the giant plaster parrot has already moved to my house.) Bonus: 250 books are for sale, $2 for any hardcover and $1 for any softcover So come one, come all, to Silva's Super Saturday Sale! She's been a constant inspiration in my life and I've always been immensely proud to be related to her. What she's about to do, move across the country to be with the woman she loves, is going to be difficult, and she needs all the help she can get. Even if you come by for five dollars worth of books, you'll be contributing. Added up, it tips the balance. That, and it gets it out of the house, which counts for more than you might think. The less she has to worry about, the better. More pictures of what's for sale in her journal. 7 comments | post a comment
I'm going south again, down to Seattle, for another brilliant weekend with Robin, Ivo, Adam, MJ, and the polite gang of miscreants they run with, but this time with some special guests. I won't be the only person from out of town - animator Sean C. Adams, a dear friend of mine from Atlanta I've never had the good fortune to meet in person, will also be in Seattle. I'm thrilled! (Well, except for that dubious, nay-saying bit of my brain which won't stop claiming that somehow we will be unable to find each other, something will go wrong, the bus will break down or the house will catch fire or.. You know how it is. Tremendously good news in all directions? Must be a catch. Really I'll get there and I'll catch fire, scarred horribly in a freak accident as a piano falls on me from thirteen stories up.) Already I'm annoyed with myself for not being in bed, asleep, so as to get to tomorrow just that much faster. The nagging question, however, as I'm packing at two in the morning, what obvious, essential thing am I forgetting? 10 comments | post a comment
Tickets: $17.50. Richards on Richards, doors at seven, show at seven:thirty.
  It occurs to me that this is the formation of family, laying in the darkness of a winter night, tearing stories out of history and presenting them like they were wine, showing where the scars are like a road-map of decisions never made, sharing what has happened in an effort to make something new, to frame a future of reaction and place that will make sense outside the room. Failing is part of it, crashing the bicycle to get up again, scrawling on the walls in crayon, dusting off our knees, calling bluffs, and saying alright anyway, holding hands, commiserating. It was awhile ago, but cities, once put to task, continue building, even in the absence of an architect. Once populated, they evolve, reach for the sky, develop eccentricities, and form personalities clothed in architecture or maybe memories. Along the avenue, all the presents we've presented, all the fact, fiction, and morning details no one else will ever see, they form a garden, they form a line, they spring, blades of grass, flowers, chaotic, ordered, a personal deduction against any further damage. A metaphor we can take with us into sleep, a certainty as easily satisfying as cake. 14 comments | post a comment
This is why we photograph. The fear of oblivion, ours and our worlds. We will inevitably die, but our photographs, if they’re honest, if they show our lives with clarity, unafraid, our photographs will preserve us. Our souls at least. Who we were inside, and the things we saw. Our images? Particles of light that have been traveling forever bounced off our subjects, were focused through our lens into the tender tissue of our eye, and our brain, and our film. Now, those very same shapes, made by those very same particles, the same ones we saw, others can see. Forever, they can see that fraction of a second we saw. That’s immortality.” -Clayton Cubitt, 2005 May is quickly waltzing into being, every day one delicate step closer, bringing with it spring and, with that, my birthday. Fragile, the social ties holding me to it. Already people have started asking about a party, as I worked through my birthday last year. So once again, and this year I mean it, does anyone know of an appropriate venue for my birthday party at the end of May? My apartment is far too small to hold the 100+ people who will wander through during the course of the day and outdoors, really, is never an option I care for. It's impossible to foster the security of the microcosm we call a kitchen party in a park. What I'm hoping for is the kind loan of a house with a yard for a BBQ that won't mind if we go over-night, preferably with crash space, that won't mind if we cook breakfast in the morning. Last time our resident Stephen was kind enough to lend us his place, but it has since been partitioned and rented out to people. (I think Frankie's girlfriend's sister or something now lives in the basement, like, just to go to show how small this city really can be.) It was perfect, big, two yards, just off the Drive. It came out unscathed, too, minus a large pile of dishes in the kitchen we cleaned up the next day, two snapped guitar strings, and, I think, one broken glass. The people I know tend to be remarkably tidy when it comes to parties, we're not hard-drinking bar-stars with anything to prove, more the sort of argue films and physics over spanish guitar on the porch. Profit: fifteen dollars in returnable bottles, a set of car and house keys no one ever claimed, (I still have them, people, identify them and they're yours), and some wonderfully embarrassing arm-wrestling photos. So, please, if this sounds remotely feasible, drop me a line if you've got a place or know of one. Let's see if we can't work something out. edit: so far we've got the foxy house. anyone else? 7 comments | post a comment
Researchers at the University of the Witwatersrand in South Africa compared the feet of people from different cultures plus 2,000 year old skeletons. The skeletons had the healthiest feet (at least when they were alive), followed by the modern population that normally goes barefoot. “Natural gait is biomechanically impossible for any shoe-wearing person,” wrote Dr. William A. Rossi in a 1999 article in Podiatry Management. “It took 4 million years to develop our unique human foot and our consequent distinctive form of gait, a remarkable feat of bioengineering. Yet, in only a few thousand years, and with one carelessly designed instrument, our shoes, we have warped the pure anatomical form of human gait, obstructing its engineering efficiency, afflicting it with strains and stresses and denying it its natural grace of form and ease of movement head to foot.” In other words: Feet good. Shoes bad.Justifying, wonderfully, what I've been telling everyone since I was at least six years old. Never again will I attempt to look meek when someone berates me on my lack of footwear, instead I shall raise my head high and declare quite gladly that science is on my side. I have citation! 21 comments | post a comment
 He doesn't like it when I chew gum, but he watches me take out my hair pins as if the act carries the same intimacy as removing my clothing. Being constructed naturally of disciplined angles, his only defense was to move with a maximum of constant, weightless grace. Chapter headings in the shape of their hands, page count off how much poetry I can wring from their skin. Something is taking shape: ink hair, a familiar bar, an unfamiliar feeling of awe, music parallel to skill, traveling the next day, his unmatchable grin, every day always too far away, a myth, circling the world twice to end everything thirty feet from where it began. If I took a photograph of every one and layered them, there might be details submerged, but perhaps a clarity for all of that. It looks like: ink hair, eyes meeting, singing in the street, a miracle, his poetry, his children later on the phone, impossible, the sweetest thing. Digital culture-inspired oil paintings. post a comment
 The show those girls put on at The Red Room was unquestionably the best burlesque show I've ever seen. I think I have a crush on one of the performers, Whiskey Rose, she was so much fun. Between Worlds Burlesque, billed as Genre-Hopping / Era-Dropping / Mind-Popping, was EVERYTHING IT PROMISED. It was a comedy education, a sizzling phantasmagoria of stockings, high heels, and mixed media entertainment. Every girl had a completely different show, highlights of which include a Marlene Deitrich as done by Liza Minelli, a mad punk chicken beheading, a hip-to-the-hop hardcore booty-dancing water nymph, Tristan as a bioengineered Alien Queen, and, my personal favourite, Sexy Little Red and the Raunchy Fun Wolf. Just... wow. Lucky for everyone who missed it, there's way more coming, so hold onto your tiny feathered hats, and run on down to check out some of the shows! Tonight, Friday, April 25th, it's... The Evil Bastard International Burlesque Showcase Start Time: Doors at 8:00, Show at 9:00 End Time: 1:00pm Price: $20 Venue: The Grandview Legion Auditorium Venue Address: 2205 Commercial Drive Performers: Ana de Lara, Bella Trixx, Bettina May, Champagne Sparkles, Ember LaValle, EmpeROAR Fabulous!, Go-go Amy, Holly Peno, Jacqueline Hyde, Midori Colada, Miss Kitty Baby, Ravenna Black, Scandal from Bohemia, Shetan Noir, Slick Moorehead, Star Rising, The Baby Jessicas, The Purrfessor, Stephen Taddei, Urban Improv, and Canadian Content. If you can't make it tonight either, don't fret! The festival runs from April 24th - May 4th. Full event listings: shows, workshops. 4 comments | post a comment
German staging of Verdi's A Masked Ball on 9/11 with naked cast in Mickey Mouse masks
May 15th, 7 pm ART SPIEGELMAN, comic artist Centre for Digital Media, Great Northern Way Campus, 577 Great Northern Way A major figure in the underground comics movement of the 1960s and 70s, Spiegelman is best known for his Pulitzer Prize-winning comic memoir Maus, which retraces his parents story as Holocaust survivors. Formerly named one of the 100 Most Influential People of our times by Time Magazine, he continues to be a political activist and a public champion for innovative comic book work. May 23rd, 7 pm MICHAEL AMZALAG and MATHIAS AUGUSTYNIAK, M/M (Paris), art directors/graphic designers Vancouver Art Gallery, 750 Hornby Street Graphic designers Michael Amzalag and Mathias Augustyniak founded M/M Paris in 1992. Their work has been shown in art galleries and museums all over the world, most recently in the 2008 exhibition Vision Tenace at the Centre Pompidou in Paris. Their projects are created in partnership with such diverse designers and artists as Stella MacCartney, Yohji Yamamoto, Douglas Gordon and Bjork. May 29the, 7 pm TIM JOHNSON, animation film maker Centre for Digital Media, Great Northern Way Campus, 577 Great Northern Way DreamWorks Animation film director Tim Johnson directed the 2006 computer animated comedy Over the Hedge, starring the voices of Bruce Willis and Gary Shandling. His earlier projects include the animated action adventure Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas and DreamWorks first computer animated comedy, Antz, as well as the infamous segment Homer3D from The Simpsons Halloween special Treehouse of Horror VI. June 4, 7 pm WILL WRIGHT, god of computer game designers Centre for Digital Media, Great Northern Way Campus, 577 Great Northern Way Widely acknowledged as one of the most important innovators in gaming, technology and entertainment, Will Wright is the designer of the groundbreaking computer simulation games SimCity and The Sims, the bestselling computer game of all time. Wright has received two lifetime achievement awards from Game Developers Choice Awards and was inducted into the Academy of Interactive Arts and Sciences Hall of Fame in 2002. TICKETS: 604.662.4717 SERIES OF FOUR PRESENTATIONS: $85, Members and seniors $68, students $34. INDIVIDUAL PRESENTATIONS: $25, Members and seniors $20, students $10. 11 comments | post a comment
via Mildred:
Someone scraped the contents of Darren Di Lieto’s website and published it into a 350-page book being sold online for $100. via warren. This book — which reprints without permission several dozen artist interviews which Darren had posted on the LCS blog — transcribes these interviews word-for-word, including the artwork, and was “published” under the title “Colorful Illustrations 93°C”. The book even includes a CD with all the illustrations from the book, all lifted off the site as well.Publishers have faked their details, resellers refuse to pull the book. The ISBN they provide is also a fake. It being nigh impossible to track down the culprits, (they seem to be located in HK, a city world renowned for copyright infringement), the only real way to shut these people down and/or make sure no one works with them again is to spread the word, create an information backlash and rub their faces in the muck so hard they'll never get clean. First, please re-distribute this blog post or Darren’s original post. Repost the whole thing, or part of it, in your blog, with links and tags included.There's more information on Darren's blog as well as a gallery of photos taken of every page. post a comment
 Edward Lorenz, the founder of Chaos Theory, died Wednesday of cancer. My eyes slip across the street, noting where sand collected in what used to be rain puddles. I think if this moment could be collected, I have friends who I would like to send it to, who might understand the feeling of weight my blood carries in my body. Everything is heavy, even while curled on a couch, resting my head on a pile of silk pillows, my dreams full of choreographed shouting, difficult and lonely. A sheathed short sword in my hand, taken from a shelf, held in my hand, jabbed in the air for emphasis. If we're going to do this, we're going to do it my way, thick with mythology, mired in darkness, as pregnant with promise that only mystery can be. The tip of the black bamboo case held at his throat, keeping him still, an implied threat. Any minute I could drop it, any second, I could put it down, and wait for his hands on me. A pass, forensic, you are healed, lightning coming down layer by layer, impressed upon the landscape like a gravestone rubbing, rain falling without regret, reminding the grass to be green.  Behind my eyes, I rewind, reposition him, the stairs, the way I might reposition a tea-cup for a photograph. I attempt to find a configuration that has nothing to do with frustration or anger. I rewind, reposition, I suggest lines to the scene as if to an actor. My body lies perfectly still, except for a frown, one tiny crease. Why can't I be dreaming of cat strange eyes? I am sent to the river. Washed of glory, he walks down the stairs again. I again gesture, upset, incontrovertible. It is a loop, queerly criminal, taken out of time as if it were stolen. My footsteps are silent, but his are not. There is no wall where I want one. Above all, I require grace. I said it out loud in the shower the next days, the words like soap bubbles, clean, beautiful, a renewed realization of what keeps me clear. 14 comments | post a comment
 365 day one hundred: duncan & jhayne in.. CAKE FIGHT 2008!
photos, unsurprisingly, by lung liu "This life turned out nothing like I'd planned." "Why not?" "When I was younger, living in L.A., I only wanted to grow up to be a famous pro-skateboarder. Pretty good at it too, not one of the insane guys, but up there." "So what happened?" "My father moved us back to San Francisco and I became a musician." Saying goodbye, listening to the taste of every word that's falling from my mouth like a flower petal, pearls spilling on the floor, why doesn't he hear them? I hope the waiter doesn't slip. A fortune of curiosity rilling across the floor. Formica table, silver edged, I've written about this before. It seems to be a place I say farewell to lovers. Late night, wishing we had picked the music, juke box saviors, noise, funk, tanned in the red light. My taste buds are crying out for the flavour of his sentence structure, how I find myself pronouncing his the word friends. A wild-eyed longing for something new, for all the stories he has to give the world, suffering from never enough. We should have, his future, another time, my past, we could have, but we won't. Rain check. I want to lick his eyes, tri-coloured, red in the middle like a demon, green edged, the colour of jealousy, getting to fly away and jump away from here, cramped maybe, but I can't care about that. Amazing. Summertime. Warmth. I'll see him then, same old city, secrets open, wide, blazing. Press passes. Another stage, another show. Performances on and off, back behind fences, over by a beach, tucked around the lake. Maybe I'll catch him a rabbit, eight track ears, folding back the soft fur, the sunburned faces of the people in the front row. For once, I don't mind that I crossed the river. At least he held my hand. "When I was sixteen, I had a decision land in my lap which would have changed everything. He was very rich, very famous. I see the face of the girl who said yes on magazines." "I think you made the right choice." "I think so too, or at least, I like to think so. Sometimes it's hard to tell, but right now, all of it brought me to being here with you, and I'm okay with that. That feels alright by me." 2 comments | post a comment
Saturday started out badly, we had a worrisome phone-call notable only for the gulf of heart-bruising silence that ran underneath everything we said, but it brightened immeasurably as soon as we met at the club. There's something baked into his smile which unfailingly cheers me up, like an open door with sunshine on the other side. The gig was marvelous, everyone had a fantastic time. The albums don't do him justice, they're great music, but seeing him live.. it's an extraordinary, inspiring experience. He twists, dances, and contorts around his instrument, setting a mad pace thick joyful exuberance. I've been to his concerts more than anyone else's and yet I still don't think I quite have the words to describe what it's like. There was one boy dancing along at the front so enthusiastically a wind came off his limbs. Thankfully, it was an early night, with another band playing after, so we got to pack up and go for dinner at a half-way reasonable hour, something which doesn't happen very often. We went to the best Korean Tapas Fusion place, over on Robson, with James, Lung, Claire, her boyfriend, and my mother, Vicki. Delicious, nutritious, and tremendous fun. We toasted unlikely things, celebrated, and ate the perfect amount of far too much. On the ride back to my place, when it was just the two of us again, we went over the conversation we had neglected before, fitting our words together like the devout gears of a crystal mechanism, casual and insistent, gently examining our language to see where we'd gone and what would happen next. When we got to my place, it was somehow finally okay to go in and sleep alone. Then all of Sunday, as if to make up for lost potential time, we spent on The Best Date We Never Had. He called when he woke up, drove straight over, graciously crammed into my windowsill with me so Lung could take our portrait, then brought me out to Pnohm Pehn, one of my favourite restaurants, for a few hours of I took video, That 1 Guy playing the Railway Club, April 5th & 6th: Forgotten Whales, How's 'Bout Those Holes in the Moon, Buttmachine, Somewhere Over the Rainbow (on the magic saw), Dig (on the magic boot), Solea (w. a bit of Iron man), The Moon is Disgusting (It's Made of Cheese), Cameo's Word Up finale, and one just for me, as I threw panties at the stage in Seattle. After that we went for late night burger and shakes and the waiter thought we were so cute drinking two strawed from the milkshake that he took our picture. I even got a kiss goodnight at the door. It's like we should break-up all the time, "I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN, where should we go for dinner?" So though I'm suddenly single, it was done with such grace that I feel completely undamaged. He figured out the magic combination, like how to kiss angels without being scalded. 6 comments | post a comment
 Duncan's going to be a cheerleader.
 Untouchable (HIV Camera) by Wayne Martin Belger 4”x5” camera made from Aluminium, Copper, Titanium, Acrylic and HIV positive blood. The blood pumps through the camera then in front of the pinhole and becomes my #25 red filter. Designed to shoot a geographic comparison of people suffering from HIV."
Tonight! One night only! The Railway Club, doors at seven, show at eight! That 1 Guy as interviewed by Chris Clark for JamBands.com (2008-03-22): Mike Silverman is a man of many talents. Beginning his career as a classically-trained upright bassist, he has long since become an individual orchestra, performing a multitude of concise and elaborate sounds with two hands and two feet. Based in Berkeley, Silverman is a fixture on the live music circuit. Armed with the magic pipe (you have to see it to understand), That 1 Guy is undoubtedly one of the most unique and innovative musical acts around. Jambands.com had the pleasure with catching up with Silverman the day before his spring tour commenced to discuss all things That 1 Guy....to read the rest of the article, click here 3 comments | post a comment
Today, Sunday April 6, 2-5 pm, Robson Square Theatre Presented by the Consulate General of the Republic of Indonesia. Featuring Gamelan Madu Sari (Javanese), Gamelan Gita Asmara (Balinese), VCC School of Music (contemporary Sundanese), SFU School of Contemporary Arts Gamelan, and Indonesian students, performing traditional music and dance and new music. To find them, go under Robson Square, through the UBC doors, then down the stairs to your right. Free admission (donations for the musicians gratefully accepted) For the record, this isn't the gamelan I played with, but the one my mother used to play with. 1 comment | post a comment
My friends Jill Binder and Kajin Goh are attempting to create a Vancouver chapter for Pangea Day, a global film festival, "The day the world comes together through film".
Seattle was beautiful, a week of people I like and trying unfamiliar intersections on for size. Compass points. The stars and sea. Music, driving, carrying the city in my head. Robin brought me down, we talked love, I stayed with Joseph, we talked sex, and I bathed in every minute of living somewhere new. The nutrition facts of being away: elevated mood 90%. I would have been content to simply stay. Mike agreed I should. Walk out the door and never, ever return. Come on down, he said, this is where I am, he said, where should we go next? A week unfurling, futures whispering, why not? Yes. Please. Rescue me. So I met him to the Jupiter, (forgetting they host the worst karaoke to ever issue from human beings), then found myself in a hotel room where the last of the hackers were trying to unsuccessfully party down on a Tuesday night. Tables covered in con-badges crowded the room, pizza boxes sat semi-ignored near the balcony door, and no one seemed to remember names. It would have been sad if anyone had been more awake. Eventually I caught a ride home from a Berkeley fellow, bared my teeth at sleep, and collapsed into Thursday. Jacob, now Jake, called again. Come out, he said, we're at the Vancouver Aquarium. Loud music, blurred laughter. Yes, of course. Bringing Ray, knowing he wouldn't make it too late. They handed us tickets at the door, Complimentary Drinks From Microsoft, as I was highly amused how easy it was to swagger in. People standing everywhere, a string of blaring speakers probably bothering the fish. I scouted, looking for bleach blond hair to catch my eye. Jake was in the back, standing with Julia and speaking German with another girl I'm not sure I ever met again. We floated around the building, trying to find a way in to see the lemurs, but failed and eventually found ourselves outside with the dolphins and belugas instead. For five hundred dollars, I promised, I would strip down to underwear and swim with the dolphins. Sadly, only about three-fifty was ever raised, so I stayed dry, not willing to risk pneumonia without my rent being essentally gauranteed. Oh thwarted adventure. The Baby Buddha cried. Eventually Ray went missing, as was expected from a Thursday late night, and whosoever was left was packed into school busses and brought back to the hotel. Another party, same room, more people, better everything. Topics: Internet security, computer user anarchism. Fascinating, technical, I liked it, (it was odd), though I felt that I might flounder at any minute, left behind by the jargon of the industry. Jake invited me to Whistler in a conversation lull, and when I said yes, he and I danced in a corner of the room with Sergio, a fun Argentinian fellow with short hair except for one long, thin, braid, who I ended up staying over with. I woke in a king sized bed to an announcement at a ten o'clock that felt like seven a.m. THIS IS NOT A TEST. EMERGENCY SERVICES ARE ON THEIR WAY TO ASSESS A POSSIBLE EMERGENCY. ALL ELEVATORS HAVE BEEN LOCKED, PLEASE USE THE STAIRS TO EVACUATE THE BUILDING. WARNING CODE ONE. PLEASE REMAIN CALM. My first waking thought. "I'm not navigating 18 stories of stairs until I smell smoke. Especially," as I opened my eyes, "it appears to be snowing outside. Ha." Instead of pulling myself from the wide, warm blankets, I curled myself deeper into my nest of utterly first class pillow and went back to sleep, chewing a complimentary chocolate. Until the warning sounded again, then a third time, at which point I gave up, got up, and walked out, soundly forgetting my camera on the table until the moment the door clicked shut behind me. 8 comments | post a comment
Once upon a time when time was shivering apart and memories seemed more real than reality, the girl who fell from the sky and the west coast hacker king came to an agreement. Editor's Note: To wit, my life took a left turn and fell apart and came back together and all those things that lives tend to do, but all in one day instead of stretched over a reasonable amount of time. I'm back from madcap Whistler, I met keen new people, Dragos came over, Nicole took me out, I called home, and now I'm alright. Watch the Brothers Quay video, it's splendid and makes me glad the world exists. 4 comments | post a comment
Western Canada, I'm talking to you! Coming soon, a few shows in your neck of the woods! Salmon Arm and Vancouver to be more specific. See here: April 4, 2008 - Salmar Classic Theatre - Salmon Arm, BC, Canada April 5, 2008 - The Railway Club - Vancouver, BC, Canada April 6, 2008 - The Railway Club - Vancouver, BC, Canada Hope to see you there! love that1guy" 2 comments | post a comment |
|
|
