Monday, September 13, 2010

Tell Me Where You're Goin'

Thank you for being such a bright, smart, and amazing guy. i will always remember the late night drinks and smoking and long conversations and running around the cold streets and getting lost from the crowds.

Shine on, buddy. You will always be a cosmological force, the star that you are.

Thursday, August 05, 2010

Since You Got Me Up

i have been spending a lot of time alone these days and nights in my apartment, which is feeling more and more like a dark cave lit with many ugly candles. i just sit and stare, and then the oven clock tells me that half an hour has passed. This doesn't miff me, because i just wrap the knitted blankets around me tighter and keep staring, and then soon it's time for bed.

Sometimes, though, i go out. i have really only seen a handful of people on repeat, and though they get me out, they don't seem to mind visiting me in my cave either. They are also clever enough to know that i am less creepy and disconsolate when they bring a bottle of white for safe passage.

And i am oddly surprised at the company that keeps me now, these very different people that have wandered in and taken me in. The cosmological congruency i think, is that we have all been terribly good at being terribly aware of being terribly unsuccessful in meaningful relationships. So bottles of wine go down, tears are spilt, bad Chinese takeout soothes us, and we bond over terribly terrible memories and the terribly good ones too.

Then it's time for breakfast in the rain.

It's summer. Sometimes, i do go out, and the sun does shine. So do my raddest of the rad friends.

weekday night gardens and ship fries

gardens at a glance

through the looking glass

tarp runner and folk fest buddy

main stage night tales

lanterns weaving in the dark

trail leads to me

let's dance

horseplay and tomfoolery

Sunday morning gospel jam


mountain strolls and lavender


amusement and skyrides

Friday, June 11, 2010

Entering the New Beast

Image heavy,


Music and snuck-in gin and little bottles of flavoured vodka, being a wing girl, naps on hills, getting lost and spending a night in a campsite on the other side, no balance between cold and sunburn, ignoring media duties, smoking a plenty, and being with awesome people that i will never meet again.

morning hike in

the gorge in the sun

new friends share drinks and drugs, oysters and avacados

favourite stoop

the only warm place is at night, with Z-Trip

a gentleman's maintenance

limited daily breakfast

slipping through, the time has come

we're heartbroken

sneaking into the range life of Pavement

rain at midnight in the Booka Shade

gots all kinds of sweets for a soul man

Marlboro country outside the Honey Buckets

sunshine last

a Band of Horses steals our hearts

Neon Indian fucks us up

the boys and free beer and avocados

as dirty as white gravy

Running Away From The Belly Of The Beast

i have nothing elegant to say. Instead, i will remember not showering for 4 days and sleeping for a collection of 16 hours like this:

leaving Vancouver in a car of strangers

welcome to America, assholes

meatloaf and jambalaya

accent sardine can lined with pbr

field of fucking dreams for 4 hours

10am cocktails

This was the beginning. The rest was even more surreal because i didn't realize where i was or who i with most of the time - wandering and healing in the pits and crowds.