to desire the replica

posted by: Kim
posted on: August 31st, 2009

6am and my city smells like it’s sitting next to a campfire.

posted by: Kim
posted on: August 29th, 2009

I live in BC and as you may or may not know, most of my beautiful province is on fire right now. This is what a normal day at the river looks like.

This is what it’s looked like recently. And today is actually a good day. You can see the hills. Yesterday, not so much. Tomorrow- who knows.

Despite the crap air, the dogs and I still managed to have a lovely day on the beach watching a couple of local boys play in the river. (Thanks for the show Jesse & Steve)

And lastly, if any of you happen to be counting, Steve comes home on Monday!!!!!!!!!!!! I’ve made the most brilliant Moroccan marinade in which 2lbs of gorgeous short ribs are currently bathing, and holy crap, I can’t wait. (For Steve I mean, the ribs will be good and all, but let’s be honest here people, he’s been gone for almost a fucking month.)

posted by: Kim
posted on: August 28th, 2009

I lived smack dab in the middle of downtown Vancouver for a good handful of years and though I have no intention of ever living there again, I do often miss it. My flower vendor guy on Davie, my all night coffee house just up from Broadway, the cherry blossoms staining the street in front of my old apartment,  or watching the 2 homeless guys fight in the ally outside of my 3rd story kitchen window every night. Yeah, living downtown means that you have to step over the occasional needle, but have you ever had a bucket of clams at the Atlantic or the 3am “special Chinese tea”  “dark or light” which is of course whiskey & coke or beer, cleverly disguised in a tea pot? Where else can you stumble home at 5am and see a homeless guy sharing a cheeseburger with 2 Canadian Geese on those big old stone steps of the church on Nelson and Burrard? A glass of wine at the Bin, a little jazz at Capone’s or the seedy but irresistible Fairview. Live bands in dark clubs, fresh curried muscles on a sunny patio that smells of the sea and the endless towers of antique books at McLeod’s. The delicious spiciness of the air in little India or the mountains of unidentifiable foods in Chinatown. That little Buddhist cafe next to the fish guy, or the cheese guy on Granville Island. Bartending in Yaletown, walking the seawall with a hot coffee in hand and Fathe at Habibi’s. Lazy long boozy nights sitting at the bar at Carnagies with Yannick- chain smoking and talking for hours.

Yeah, there are bits and pieces of that city that I miss dearly.

Now, after nearly 5 years away, Steve and I are going down for a quick over-nighter. We will stay in the west end at the crumbling old, ivy covered Sylvia and I will take him to Chinatown so that I can buy cheap water colours and the herbal patches that I use for my screwed up hips. We will wander my first old hood of Granville from 9th to 14th and I will love every second. I will show him my first apartment at 10th & Birch. I know that things will be different, even before I left all those years ago some random guy bought Carnagies and painted all of that sexy, old school, deep stained wood, fucking purple. Purple. (Being “home” for Lise & Yanni & I, we were devastated.)

Yes. I know that things will be different but this is about feeling familiar. Feeling like being home after being away for a long time. It’s my old stomping ground. The places that I knew once, the places that felt right. They wouldn’t now- I wouldn’t start a morning work shift with Yanni’s “milkshake” which was 1/3 espresso & 2/3 booze, but still… there is something about that city for me. I discovered a lot about myself there, and I met people that I will love my whole life through. I lived in that city. I truly did.

As a kid, we moved around a lot. I think I went to 11 or 12 different schools. I was a kid in Kelowna- a flashy tourist city where I spent a good portion of my youth- and people that I love still live there. I like that place but Vancouver is something different. As an adult, I grew up in Vancouver. I figured out who I was, and understood all that was me. I remember crashing on Richard’s couch after traveling Europe for a year, I remember crashing on Brian’s couch after I returned from living on a random ranch in the interior for a while.  I always came “home” to Vancouver. It holds a weird magic for me. I won’t live there again, but I will always love that city.

Steve doesn’t know Vancouver, and for that I am glad. I get to show him MY Vancouver.

PS- If you randomly happen to be in the area, My old friend Richard is having a cd listening party for his latest release. Check them all out here.

posted by: Kim
posted on: August 25th, 2009

It will give you a headache trying to read it as it would have been more aptly titled the Redacted Report. The little bit that you are able to surmise while reading between the thick black marked out areas is exactly what I thought it would be. Horrific.

We do this shit to other people.

Our Governments say that it’s okay.

Glenn Greenwald over at Salon has some excellent insights that you should read, and as always, Matt’s site and Antiwar both have a plethora of well researched info on tourture and the other fun party tricks of war.

posted by: Kim
posted on: August 24th, 2009

I think it’s fairly apparent by how much I obsess over Maggi and now my  shivering little mess of a rescue dog Lucy, that I am a dog person. I just am. I don’t dislike cats- I am just a dog person. A few years back I wanted to get Maggi a companion but didn’t feel like -time wise- I was in a position to get another dog so I got her a cat. The beautiful Naysa. A jet black purring machine and I’ve grown to love that little bastard. She sleeps in the curve of my elbow at night.

And now she has to go.

Before you call me all manner of dirty vile names, she is going around the corner to a coworker who loves cats as I do dogs so I have no worry that she will be very loved and very happy. Naysa can be happy anywhere that there is love and food. Basically, anywhere that Lucy the sad little dog isn’t.

Lucy has been with us for two months and is finally realizing that she is home, gets fed everyday, no longer has to live in a cage and is loved. She is learning to play and not jump 15ft at every noise and while Lucy is learning all of this, Naysa is learning to hate her. I think Naysa finally realized that Lucy is staying and she has decided that she’s not having any of that. She has begun hissing at her at every opportunity, she has chased the rather terrified little dog out of the living room a few times and she waited until I was in the room and then deliberately went over and pissed on Lucy’s dog bed. TWICE.

Last night was the deal breaker for me. Naysa does this thing where she’ll lay on the couch beside you and stretch out her arm to touch you. It’s sweet. I was sitting on the couch swilling wine contemplating life with Maggi asleep on one side and Lucy asleep on the other. Naysa jumps into my lap and I begin to give her a good love up. She lays down and stretches out her little arm to touch Lucy’s back leg and I think “aawwwww. Maybe it will be alright.” In a flash Naysa pulled the leg toward her while lunging forward. She sunk her sharp little teeth into Lucy’s flank deep enough to draw blood. Poor little Lucy, terrified and screaming, bolted out of the room in such a panic that she ran into the wall. Hard.

Better days.

Better days.

Despite the fact that it is nessasary and that I am- at my very core- a dog person, I have to admit that I’m gonna miss that little bastard. A lot actually. But I know Naysa, so I know exactaly where this is heading. Remember the story about how I got Warren killed?

posted by: Kim
posted on: August 21st, 2009
posted by: Kim
posted on: August 20th, 2009

The election has just begun. They have not so politely asked for a media black out on terrorist activities for fear of people deciding not to vote. Not to chance their lives to vote.

Take a step back.

Take a deep breath.

Take just a second out of your day to understand how truly lucky we are.

Then, take a look around and see what you can do to help. Even a little.

Small steps make us global.

posted by: Kim
posted on: August 18th, 2009

I gave myself a rather nasty little burn last week which I didn’t whine about here. (I have NO idea why the hell not because it hurt like a sonofabitch!) It’s on the outside of my wrist. My aim in pouring the freshly boiled water into the freshly ground coffee waiting in the press was, uhm, shall we say lacking?

So…. it began as a flaming red patch, which turned into a weird looking glossy white/pinkish thing, which then morphed into a strange black/brown gangrenous hue.

It now looks like this;

Pay particular attention to the dry rolled up lizard like flesh around the edges. It’s super attractive. The brand new shiny pink skin under the shriveled pieces is really creepy. I kind of can’t stop looking at it. And touching it. And kind of poking it a little.

Yeah. Like I said;