Saturday, August 01, 2009

Louis wanders the neighborhood with us now after dark. He walks off-leash, trots, like a small, intelligent dog, executes a series of ever-widening circles around L. and I as we move in the cool breeze, occasionally slipping off to investigate a particularly appealing driveway or yard and then galloping along to catch up. Basement apartment neighbors who've met him on one of his 5am getaways -- apres chewing through the window screen, or its duct tape and chicken wire replacement -- come up to say hello. He chirps; briefly suffers being stroked and/or scratched behind the ears; is gone again in a flash.

A local rat flies up a garage drainpipe and perches in the rain gutter, gazing over the edge like a shipwreck survivor in a life raft anxiously examining a big grey fin in the distance.

The bright stars overhead, the same Big Dipper we saw in Nevada in January, half wheeled around the sky.

Sweet warm blackberries.

L's strong hand, the gentle pressure of her ring's rough face against my fingers.

"He considered the stars and was moved by their distance." (Probably misremembered Cormac McCarthy line)
Friday, July 31, 2009

Critical Mass just passed the shop's front door, bells ringing. About twelve minutes of traffic silence, broken only by some middle-aged dumbass shouting "Assholes!" from the sidewalk, and the whap-whap-whap of a news chopper hovering high overhead. I saw young cyclists, old cyclists, men and women of every color and sexual preference, some friends and store customers among them.

I like Critical Mass a lot; it looks like democracy to me.
Thursday, July 30, 2009

Splinter in Your Eye

Lee Bacchus' and Bernie Lyon's splendid composite photo-cartoon-text portrait of Vancouver in transition, with occasional guest appearances by others, including cranky and witty former Vancouver Sun critic Lloyd Dykk, one of the few ex-Pacific Press writers worthy of the name. My late friend Bruce Serafin would have loved Splinter's careful attention to physical details.

(Photo: Lee Bacchus, Nine Doors on Cambie Street, 2009)

The Fucking Weather -- amen, brother.

(courtesy John Armstrong)
New CSA Space website built by yours truly, still very much a work-in-progress. Eventually the site will contain a comprehensive list of exhibitions, reviews, texts of CSA publications, & etc. Though there hasn't been much posted here lately about Vancouver's hottest (40+ degrees Celsius yesterday!) independent project space, the gallery is still ticking quietly along, with upcoming exhibitions by Kika Thorne, Mohamed Somani, Isabelle Pauwels, Sylvia Grace Borda, and others.

Ben Ratliff thinks hard about Aja:

"The songs on Aja have multiple strains and fascinating bridges; the horn and guitar solos often worked with entirely new sets of changes. It has light surfaces and deep rhythm-pockets with whispers of disco. It is one of the all-time great drumming records. It’s also one of the all-time-great how-good-is-your-stereo records. Its perfectionism could seem oppressive or fishy, lab-based and possibly android. Hearing its songs on the radio reminds me of the smell of new plastic.

But all seven songs on Aja — three on the first side, four on the second, as Ms. Leonhardt’s ritual trips to the turntable reminded you — are quite beautiful in motion."

Powered by Blogger

.post-title { display: none!important; }