Saturday, April 22, 2006

the dark

So I'm moving out of my East Van abode for June 1st. This weekend I'll start actually sniffing around in potential neighborhoods in earnest. The big considerations for the new abode are in order of importance:
  1. access to a garden and/or balcony so that I can grow things
  2. distance from junkies and/or nayerdowells who scare me (in abundance in current neighborhood)
  3. West of Main Street and north of 30th streets
  4. Mode of transport needed to get to work.

I'm looking around City Hall and the Ontario street neighborhoods and Kits so far. If anyone hears of a sweet bachelor or small one bedroom...

Last night I went to an art show on Granville at a store called Organized Kaos. I packed the Fox full of hipsters and tootled down to the street of debauchery. I was playing cupid between a couple of friends of mine. My boy said the guy wasn't a catch. I of course defended him because he's my friend and I try to concentrate on all of his 'good' characteristics. The girl I was trying to fix up is a super smart, sassy, gorgeous friend. What was I thinking?

The highlight of the night was seeing the dark. He's a graffitti artist (stencil/wheat paste) that lives in the downtown eastside. Sometimes he's featured on the wooster collective. One of his more noticeable pieces is on the wall at Pigeon Park - one of the lovelier of the sights I see when taking the #7 up Carral street. It's too bad none of his art was there; he probably wouldn've blown all the other artists out of the water price wise. I hear he's expensive. There was some amazing little paintings there for between $15-45. The dark's up on the talent spectrum with Zach Braff (writing), Justin Bua (painting) and Tony Bennett (singing). Don't laugh I'm serious. I was hoping some of his tortured artistness would rub off his skinny back bone to me.

Trying to be creative these days is like popping zits on a skin care model - it ain't happening. Trying to find the outlet, even more difficult.

posted by Miranda @ Saturday, April 22, 2006 2 Comments

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

hippies' spring eternal

Last weekend was full of fun visits from one of my favourite Garden City girls, Leah. She came down to 'study', eat long meals for passover and to get right out s-faced with the posse and crew. I hosted folks for biryani at my place and then we all took the bus downtown to see the Doers and Gregg McPherson. I felt like one of those rowdy groups of 19/20 year olds on the bus travelling to cheap beer night. Leah sat on Dylan's lap. I stumbled around in my boots and Elly took photos. Oh to be a drunken student again. I'm hoping that Leah finds time to write a guest column for the bus blog as she had some pretty interesting bus times while visiting Vancity. Some of these times were photographed too. Hold you breath people the pics are on the way...

But for now I'll share my quinessential hippie moment with you. I was taking the #6 Davie into the Westend today and suddenly there were hippies everywhere. Live the magnolia and cherry blossom petal that are lining the gutters, so too are the hippies for spring. Ahhhh. Being a former redneck, former hippie, now basically a bonafide yippie, I usually consider hippies with a mixed reaction of shock, repulsion, nostalgia and warmth. These feelings are usually bound by the degrees of smelliness, dreadiness and stonededness of said hippies. The ones on the bus today were neither smelly nor too dready. They were actually so sincere and sweet I wanted to hop into the Fox and drive straight to Nelson.

I was sitting right next to them on one of the bench seats in the back of the bus, while they sat facing forward on one of the deuce seats. She had quasi-dreads and that fat nylon yarny stuff that was en vogue to tie in little girls' hair in the early 80s. The purple and blue yarn was woven throughout here fairly clean, semi-loose dreads. As she talked about dandelions and the softness of the leaves right before they bloomed her boyfriend kept giving her these wispy little kisses. He looked some one of the half-goat, half-boys from Narnia or something. They were actually unbearably cute. If one needed hippies for, say, Madame Tussaud's wax mueseum, they would be perfect specimens to pose as eternal wax statues.

What I liked about them both was how they were obviously blissed out by spring. He asked her when her ferry was leaving (to some gulf island no doubt). She replied at 6:50pm. He asked, 'In an hour?'. She said yes and they casually talked about traffic and how they would get out there. NO STRESS. No snippy comments. Total relaxation. She then went on and on to gush about how Fritz's makes the best poutine in the world. If there is one hippie attitude I could have it would be that: timeliness, what timeliness? Who cares...

posted by Miranda @ Tuesday, April 18, 2006 1 Comments

Monday, April 10, 2006

beasties, blagg, and calamity

I think I'm falling in love with Tod. He's a sweet, obedient and has only cost me a wee chunk of change so far in brake repairs. He's beetled me around town with minimal amounts of funny noises/gas consumption.

The transit gods are still being lovely to me. I've been blessed with a wealth of transit-only- treasures. Namely:
  • ipod karaoke singers - I sat across from a serious business suit rocker last week. He full on belted it out at least two David Bowie songs a couple decibels higher than a whisper. Why would I buy a nano and download music videos to watch when I ride the skybus with people like this?
  • unlimited over the shoulder reading. I'm a nosey person - with a mustang of an imagination. If you're reading something near me on the bus/skytrain then don't think that I'm not going to start my pop analysis of your personality, because I will. Choice reads this week have been: Aurora business magazine (50 ruppees), the Vancouver Sun business section and 'The 5 people you meet in heaven' by Mitch Albom.
  • the old man wearing the G-spot cap and the moment I shared with a cutie of a banker on the #9. There was this wrinkled old man sitting across from me and the banker. He was wearing a neon green/white track jacket and a navy blue hat that looked like he got it for free at some fundraiser or corporate function. "G-spot" was scralled across the front of the cap in white embroidered letters. I sniggered the whole 8 blocks between Commercial and Nanaimo, and discreetly pointing and then sharing "Does he know what his hat logo means?" looks.
  • Loads of bus runners. I love bus runners. People who sprint like Donavan Bailey for the bus, and make it, are like my own little olympics but weekly.
  • Old chinese ladies. I take the bus with the same 5 tiny ladies every week. One morning in the winter, one lady was doing jumping jacks and callestenics at our stop. Why the hell not. When you're cold, you're cold right?

Some non-bus related goodies:

I love the Beastie Boys. Look at them. I want to be like them when I'm 39. Rocking the funk and full on late 30s suave, despite the greys and the wrinkles, but still so Brooklyn. Brass Monkey, that funky monkey.

Calling all Vice Dos and Don'ts fans. Check out Alex Blagg's 'Just Don't' March 31 blogg.

My new favourite radio show. It's called Radio Free Calamity and is produced by a couple kids in Toronta. If you have obnoxious siblings (like I do, 3!) you'll be able to relate to every single digital second of this.

posted by Miranda @ Monday, April 10, 2006 3 Comments

Monday, April 03, 2006

granta


The little fox paid started paying herself off this weekend. She (underwent a sex change too) took me to North Van, Point Grey, my friend Eliane's birthday and the the Mac Grill while I worked. Having a car is bliss, somewhat. Except when I gas her up. It cost me$39.85 for about 36 litres plus a very guilty conscience. Has anyone seen Syriana? You'll know what I mean re: guilty conscience if you watched it. If you don't, go watch it. Lots of dodgy, corrupt men involved in the oil trade, never mind the environmental impacts of all that oil production. I'm going to do some research on the 'cleanest' gas I can buy, plus the most Canadian. I may as well suppport my cousins over in Alberta working the rigs. I think I'm going to buy some carbon credits off set my guilt.

Back on the bus this morning though. I've decided that I will use taking the bus as an excuse to exercise. What I consider exercise, that is. Sprinting the block and a half to the bus stop counts. So does walking the 8 blocks to Commercial and Broadway. But really, I've made a little pact with myself to walk the furthest possible each morning to work (ie. get off at Burrard or Granville Street skytrain stations or the furthest possible stop on W. Pender on the #7) and at night. First walking, then running. As in running in the morning. Soon, very soon, I'll join the legions of Vancouver runners. But for now I'll walk, thanks.

I had a loverly ride on the #7 this morning. I relish my time on that bus. There's not really a better way to start the day than digging your nose into a book for 20 minutes and looking up and you're two blocks from work. I'm reading the Winter Issue of Granta. There are some amazing essays and short stories by some super duper African/Afriphile writers. My fave fave fave Nadine Gordimer's in the issue, as is journalist Lindsey Hilsum, Kwame Dawes and Moses Isegawa. If you can find it second hand I'd recommend buying it, even if you're not into Africa. Friends in Vancouver are available to borrow if they provide collatoral like their first born or something.

posted by Miranda @ Monday, April 03, 2006 1 Comments