Chapter 4, 50: Sing To the Morning

Miss me? They're farting around with my schedule at work.

At this time, I wish to disavow negative opinions about Scott Pilgrim Saves the World, a movie which I haven't seen. I have kind of a gut feeling that it's not very good, but what do I know? I will own my opinions about hacky sack and Ultimate Frisbee. Carnival, the Fool's Parliament, and the Shadow Cabinet are Dean Shomsak's invention, and if I've made them slightly less surreal than in his conception, Babylon is large, and contains multitudes.

As for what this is about. . ..

Chapter 4, 49: The Light of Morning Breaks

No offence to the nice German musicians, but this whole "Greek crisis" thing...

On the other hand. . . 

Chapter 4, 47: And Opened the Gate

The Piper at the Gates of Dawn is Pan, although the reference is probably to one of the Homeric epithets of Eos (Aurora), "Opener of the Gate of Heaven," and some people have tried to explain what he's supposed to mean in the context of Wind in the Willows.

Then Pink Floyd got hold of it and did an album. You're welcome.

Chapter 4, 46: Dawn’s Rosy Fingers

Not just Aurora,  the full album! Enjoy. Or whatever.

Seriously, everyone's taken a picture of the outside of the Casa di Crescenzi, but, apparently, Chris Wickham is the first person to have ever been invited inside to look around, and talked about it.

It's like there's some kind of secret society thing going on.

The Death of Grass

When was the last time you were sereved a meal with bread and butter on the side, and were tempted to say, "Never mind the rest of it. Just bring me more of this butter." It may have been a while, but I'd be surprised if it hadn't happened to you. Not all butter is created equal, and were I a higher-end diner, no doubt I would be enjoying dairy delectables on a level with the kind I was served at Rumours on Thursday night on a daily basis. It went nicely with the Doukhbor wedding borscht that you can get everywhere in Grand Forks, and it should, because butter (and cream) are the not-so secret ingredients of Doukhbor borscht. (The beet, in contrast, you throw out before serving. My kind of people.) People, we need to talk about Grand Forks. It's not just the place that my Dad ended up in because a particle board plant was hiring after the Port Alice pulp mill invited him to compete for his own job in the black year of 1982. It's also a horror story. One that could easily have a happy ending.

Chapter 4, 45, The Secret Place

The theses were kept in a weird mezzanine room at the old UBC Library Main Stacks. Which are gone now, because who needs books at the library?

I tell you kids what, in my day. . .

Anyway, apparently no-one ever takes pictures inside the library stacks without an ulterior motive. (Young folk, avert  your eyes!)

See all those wonderful books? No wonder they're excited! Charlotte's hair is about the same length, but less curly, and she doesn't usually wear it up like that. And it's black, of course. She's also got more arm tone. Kung fu, you know.

Chapter 45, Racing Fast

Arm Fall-Off Boy

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