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The Ongoing Ennui of Davie Village.
The West End of Vancouver isn’t huge at all. It’s a neighbourhood consisting of a handful of blocks in a grid, the furthest area west of downtown you can go, mere steps from English Bay and Stanley Park. It is not to be confused with West Vancouver or the West Side of Vancouver, which I…
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Brutalism in Vancouver.
I am not referring to the job market, the cost of living, or the misanthropy of the residents in my particular neighbourhood, although any of those would be perfectly acceptable as material for this topic. I am talking about an architectural movement that has been an object of mild fascination for me ever since I…
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Ode To The Father
Last Sunday was Father’s Day, an occasion which we Lower Mainland Doukhobors commemorate by holding a picnic / potluck at some obscure park out in North Delta. Obscure, but it’s actually called Annieville Lions Park, which works well for me since I’ve been living in my own version of Annieville for over a decade now. …
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Candy is a food group.
Growing up, I was lucky to have parents who worked full-time, yet came home to cook a nutritious dinner for us every single night. Our meals were standard fare–salads were always on the table, every single night, along with some version of chicken, potatoes, pasta, meatloaf, Doukhobor vegetarian food–while the memorable things that stick out…
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I Got Dem Ol’ Half-Marathon Blues, Mama!
[Header pic: very old, but the only appropriate one I could find] …and by that, I mean I couldn’t complete the half-marathon I wanted to tackle on May 5. Not even “couldn’t complete” it; I didn’t even do it. A goal that I had set for myself one year prior was decimated thanks to a…
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ESL, Yet Again And Forever: May Gawd Have Mercy On My Soul
Header pic: Me on my last day of teaching with some students in Busan, South Korea, eating fire chicken (buldak). 2007. Oh, and that’s way back when chicken didn’t make me want to vomit. When I find myself in times of trouble, there is no Mother Mary. There are only the ravaging, demonic memories of…
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Jon Favreau Is A Cinematic Genius
No, really. Hear me out. Jon, if you’re reading this–and I assume everyone in Hollywood receives Google alerts for anything containing their name–you outdid yourself with this flick. Consider this my ode to “Chef.” So, for the rest of us armpit-scratching plebeians: Never heard of this movie? That’s a shame. I think it’s on Netflix…
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Some Sobering Thoughts About Addiction, Matthew Perry, and Gawd
I recently had a conversation with one of my closest friends that found us jumping to the topic of rehabs, recovery houses, and somehow, Matthew Perry. I have never–not even once–seen a full episode of “Friends,” though I have been the victim of clips here and there. Nothing about that show seemed appealing, witty, intelligent,…
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La Pura Muerte: The Dastardly Conclusion
Lots and lots of happy dramatic license employed in this entry. Oh, and header photo taken at the dinner I had with Jem the night before I stared down both the red guy and his pitchfork, and the robed one with a beard and a mighty forefinger. Were we ever so young?? And that dinner…
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La Pura Vida? La Pura MUERTE! (Part One)
(Header pic: Francisco de Goya, The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters) I feel as though I haven’t been posting as regularly as I should here, because based on what I’m seeing and hearing, there has been a steady increase in readership and / or curiosity: thank you endlessly and kindly for checking out my scribbling,…
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