Saturday, May 10, 2008

Tonight's Youtube:

I've lost dreams that won't come back

Pushing your consciousness deep into everything

Girl, I couldn't find my way
Friday, May 09, 2008
Think Fast!

Via Craigslist:

"Pulp Fiction Trade Credit - $52 value - $40

I have a Trade Credit for Pulp Fiction Books [sic], which I received in exchange for some used books that I traded them.

The credit note is worth $52.

I am selling it for $40. You pay me $40 cash, I give you the $52 credit note. That's like getting $12 of books for free!

The credit note is good at their two locations in Vancouver: (1) 2422 Main St or (2) 3133 W. Broadway.

There is NO EXPIRY DATE on the credit note.

You can use the credit note on almost all of the books for sale at Pulp Fiction. The only exceptions are recent arrivals, books in their 'Meat Case' [i.e. rare books], and some other exceptions scattered throughout the store.

Great bookstore with lots of selection. Heavy on the literature and philosophy.

Email me if you're interested. I'm cleaning out my apartment, and trying to purge myself of all extraneous stuff - hence, the desire to sell the credit note."

Recent reading: Alisa Smith and J.B. MacKinnon, The 100-Mile Diet

Read cover-to-cover last night on the couch between 10pm and 1am, blinds swinging in the breeze, beans' leaves folded in tight against the cold, like chickens tucking their heads beneath a wing, stuffed cats vigilant beside them. A peculiar book, a patchwork of old blog posts, thoughtful historical asides, directions to small Fraser Valley farms, over-ripe Kitsilano rhapsodizing about the rockier portions of the co-authors' long relationship. Everyone on the West Coast wants to talk about their feelings:

"'Tell me about your inner workings.'

'I don't have inner workings.'

'You don't have anything but inner workings!'"

Some readers will find these digressions profound and meaningful. I want to intrude on the narrative, to impose stricter editorial control, to point out that the co-authors' emotional interactions with each other are far better developed through their relationships with local farmers; with friends; with parents, siblings, and the ghosts of dead grandparents; with their Skeena River neighbor Roy, who lives in a tent in the bush on the outskirts of a ghost town and cans his own salmon. When the co-authors' relationship materializes only in passing, as a component of their journalistic investigation of local food production and their relationship to the "natural web" that sustains them, their writing crackles with profound curiosity about the world. When it doesn't, their sentences are curiously flat and ridden with cliches. "Could my restlesslessness be, rather than a desire for greater motion, a longing to understand how truly to take root in one place?" Who fucking cares? The cats and I want to hear more about pumpkin honey; about the improvised soup with the chum salmon tail; want directions to the Fraser Valley hazelnut farm and the Vancouver Island farm that sells 100-mile grain.

One of the better paragraphs, which made a deep impact on me:

"Hebda, when he gives talks to the public, often suggests something he calls the One Bean Revolution. Everyone, he says, should plant at least a single bean in a windowsill pot. He will always recommend a bean over, say, a tree, because a bean reinforces an original truth: that human beings are sustained by the natural world. The thing we call nature is not, as a tree can be, just something to look at on weekends out of the city. It is what keeps us alive. This is so basic a fact that it seems tedious to say it, and yet this understanding is not among the founding principles of civilization as we know it. There was a time, though, where we felt this knowledge every time we ate."
Wednesday, May 07, 2008

"Say, what's with [THE GAPING HOLE IN THE CEILING / ALL THOSE PLASTIC TARPS ]? Did you guys have a flood?"
Tuesday, May 06, 2008

Last week I picked up a sack of peat pots and a pack of scarlet runner bean seeds at the local gardening supply store. Back home I rehydrated the pots and planted the seeds. The animals gathered 'round to watch, just to make sure that nothing sprouted while they weren't looking.

Now the bean plants are putting out their first leaves, and their sturdy white roots have punched through the bottoms of the soon-to-be-too-small peat pots. Next step: planting the beans in a new 25 gallon plastic tub on the deck.

Apparently I am now part of some flaky back-to-the-land urban agricultural movement, though probably the only member to have successfully incubated and hatched beans with the help of stuffed cats.
Monday, May 05, 2008

"Local trees." Photo by Mr. Range.

Mick Range, 5 May 2008, 2008

Fellow hiker, mountaineer, participant, big tree enthusiast and honorary Team Cat member. Shot around the 1000m. mark on the south slope of Grouse Mountain, a few enormous mountain hemlocks in the background. Shortly before this photograph was made Mick and I were disturbed by a chorus of whistling and squeaking from the top of one of the neighboring trees. "Bald eagle," said Mick. Thirty seconds later, the largest eagle I have ever seen in my life, with a wingspan of easily six feet from tip to tip, dove out of the tree, skimmed directly above us, and zipped off along the 1000m. contour, hunting lunch. No summits were obtained, the coffee in the chalet was only passable, the "isothermic snow" had us plunging up to our knees, and Mick and I spent the whole day creaking along like old men, both having somehow missed breakfast. Still, another amazing day out in the local mountains, overcast but definitely warm like spring.
Sunday, May 04, 2008

Bookseller's Standup

The biggest tool in the world walks into the shop and requests:

1. The Game

2. Ayn Rand

3. Books on NLP

4. Nietzsche

No punchline; repeat all afternoon!

(& just for the record, the runners-up:

5. Golf books

6. BDSM manuals (not a weird or offensive pastime, but any goatee-rockin', trenchcoat-sportin' ponytailed Matrix-wannabe requesting same is inevitably bound to be a tool)

7. A used copy of any new book reviewed in Saturday's Globe & Mail

8. American Psycho

9. LSAT test prep guides

10. The Satanic Bible

11. "Phish tab")

[Discussing totally decent neighborhood local who recently had two guitars stolen from her apartment]

[PULPFICTION REGULAR] GARY: That totally blows. I don't know [GUITARS' OWNER] very well, but I've seen her at [LOCAL CLUB] once or twice. Super-nice girl. She likes the Canucks! Not like you. [Beat] I bet she likes cats though! Hey, if they changed the team name to the CATnucks, would you start going to games?

CJB: You bet. The minute they put some pointy little ears on the logo, I'm there.

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