I'm digging through a pile of scraps that I wrote on my way to BC last month. It got soaked through in the rain, and apparently I don't write with waterproof ink. And just like the irresponsible blogger I've been shaping up to be (and I promise not to let you down on this one), my nikon's battery died just before I left, and disposable cameras always make me feel like a tourist. therefore the only records are of those hot iron branded onto the few parts of my brain that retain information anymore. . .
i tried to get off in Regina but the freight train I was on just drove clean through the whole prairie city without so much as slowing down enough for me to hop off - half an hour later in the blackness outside of what looked like a city it stopped and i wandered through one of those hellish fire-spewing industrial parks towards what turned out to be downtown moosejaw. lovely place. i found a phone and rang my friend in Regina, who (thank god) came to pick me up while i waited at the tim hortons with a 16 year old kid who told me he performed "armed interventions" using old martial arts techniques and bamboo swords to break up gang fights. he showed me his gunshot wound, and ran home to get some cigars for us to smoke, and never came back. batman?
the air in toronto is so thick like a snuggly blanket that you've drooled on all your life. it's good to be back.
you need to come to this show next wednesday with Deakin (of animal collective fame):
