foxtongue: (beseech)
Friday morning was also a trial, though I crept out of it like a cat. I still had work, so I had to skip the symposiums, which hurt, but I made on-line plans from there with Alan to meet at the Science World party that night. So after, once I'd gone home and showered and changed into new clothes and did all the things regular people do when they're about to go seriously crash the largest science conference in the western hemisphere, I packed a duffel to bring to the hotel after the party, so I wouldn't have to return to the apartment again until the conference was over. (Could have done it the day before, but whatever. Dinner! Whales! Plus Science World has a significantly better coat check that the Aquarium.)

Once there, the only question was finding my people in the crush of people pointedly lingering next to the open bars and clumping in the areas where the waiters would cruise by with tasty nibbles. It all came together eventually, but I spent the first twenty minutes completely on my own, wandering through the exhibits, going from table to table, attempting to find the promised non-fish based food, as well as scouting for my clever partner in crime. The trick, apparently, was to stop looking for the shortest gregarious person and instead make for the tallest, Erik, as naturally they would be speaking together.

I didn't know Erik, but it was instantly clear that I should. He was funny, eloquent, and involved in his topics in a way I utterly envy. Truly, there may never be a group of people I immediately get on with more than journalists. There's just something about a profession that attracts the intelligent, literate, and perpetually curious that gets under my skin in the best kind of way. He wasn't selling his story to Cosmos that night, though. It wasn't quite the right fit, even though I found it personally fascinating. Even so, we all walked up the ramp together to the massive dome of the IMAX Theater, for the Kavli Foundation Awards, just in time for me to somehow lose everyone all over again at the door.

Just my luck, I almost sat alone for the show, stranded in the empty seats I tried to save. Thankfully a very nice woman from Berlin came and sat with me, social orphans together. I have regretfully misplaced her name, but she was wonderful company, telling me about her goth days back in Germany, about her lab, about her adorable daughter. She saved me as easily as grabbing the keys to the car on the way out the door. We stayed together downstairs for nearly the rest of the night, playing on the exhibits, sitting on spinny things and climbing the hollowed tree in the nature room. If we'd been children we would have been running through the yard, thrown together by chance but making the best of it, playing tag by the overpass.
foxtongue: (26th birthday)
Eric and Aiste start icing Nyan Cat's house.

Lori and her deliciously nerdy creation, the Tardis Exterminate!
Getting all Dr. Who up in there.

Beth's 1-Up Mario Mushroom

Mic Check at Occupy Gingerbread
Mic Check at Occupy Gingerbread.

foxtongue: (b&w tony & jhayne)
Originally we were going to spend Halloween in Seattle again, but this year it's Vancouver that's got the parties. Here's our schedule:

Friday
  • Witches and Warlocks Ball
    A very Drive flavoured dance party, featuring BlackBerry Wood, The Creaking Planks, Timothy Wisdom, and Little Woo's shadow-puppet fairytale "The Silent Kingdom". Show up in costume, preferably by bicycle, dance until you drop. Commercial Drive Legion, 2205 Commercial Drive. 8 pm - 2 am. $10, or $8 if you arrive with Critical Mass. Facebook link.

    Saturday
  • The Dusty Flowerpot Cabaret presents the Parade of Lost Souls: Secret Souls Walk
    Public Dreams will be hosting an interactive celebration at Britannia Community Centre. Start there to discover the location of the walks. At a mysterious locale, only to be revealed on the day, (though I remember a map floating around a few weeks ago, can anyone explain it?), the Dusty Flowerpot crew will be enticing you into back alleys, streets, and open spaces to awaken our neighbourly spirits, (likely art, shows, and fire performances). Note: no fireworks, no street closures. 5 pm - 9 pm. Facebook link.

    Also, they're still looking for volunteers: Join in Secret Souls Walk (Parade of Lost Souls). An inspiring awakening of neighbourly souls - already neighbours are pledging their homes to the underworld. Please come along to be a helping hand on this journey! Want to operate a giant puppet, perform, or just pitch in to help out with the myriad of jobs we need covered to make it all happen? We really need your help and hey - you'll be let in on the secrets way before anyone else! On October 30th this community collaboration will come together- it wouldn't happen without you! We're looking for some benevolent souls to help us with setup, set dec, performing, strike, donations, and generally creating magic in the neighbourhood of Commercial Drive. Your involvement counts in bringing the community together to make magic. To volunteer, contact Public Dreams - volunteer@publicdreams.org.

  • Maria in the Shower
    This one's confusing. We know they're playing, but when? And where? Conflicting events claim different things.
    1. Halloween Party, A benefit to celebrate the 65th Anniversary of People's Co-op Bookstore.
    Russian Hall, 600 Campbell Avenue. $10. Doors open 7:30 pm. Facebook link.
    2. The Carnival of Shadows, starring Maria in the Shower, Jeff Andrews and the Crows at Midnight, and The Creaking Planks.
    Cafe Deux Soleils, 2096 Commercial Drive. $10. Doors at 8 pm. Facebook link.

  • Waldorf Grand Opening
    To celebrate the Grand Opening of the newly renovated Waldorf hotel, the new owners are throwing a gigantic, free, multi-room Halloween party to showcase the entire complex, including the hotel rooms, lobby, restaurants, salon, the freshly restored 1950s tiki bar, the Cabaret nightclub, and the Leetag Banquet hall. Rumour also says they're setting up an outdoor dance space in the parking lot. Of everything on offer, this might be the best, biggest place to be. Facebook link.

    Sunday
  • Spooky Movie Halloween Recovery Day
    Nursing a candy hangover? Had one too many bloody marys? Come on over and recover while snuggling into our low-key movie marathon! From noon until night, we're going to draw the curtains, turn out the lights, and wallow in some of the best and worst that spooky cinema has to offer. We've got a huge list of films to choose from, or bring your own! My place, 12:00 - 9:30 pm. If you're uncertain if you're welcome, just ask. Facebook link.
  • foxtongue: (b&w tony & jhayne)
    Now that was a SPLENDID weekend.

    Nicole and I hosted a pot-luck at my place on Friday, based on a delicious giant ham and a big dead bird. I also made Eight Hour Eight Bean & Lentil soup for the vegans and vegetarians, which takes more than eight hours, but involves eight hours of constant stirring, as well as potatoes, steamed broccoli, and garlic portobello mushrooms with red peppers. It was an old-fashioned feast, and about twenty wonderful people came, most with their own delightful contributions, like home-made pulled pork sandwiches or berry wine. My oven lied a little about how hot it was, so we didn't get to eat any chicken until around 9:30, but excepting that: COMPLETE SUCCESS. We all had so much food and good company that the last guest didn't stumble out to a cab until 2 a.m. (Tony, sadly, didn't make it until after midnight, as work prevented him from catching an earlier bus into town, but I set aside a plate for him.) Once again, thank you to everyone!

    Saturday was just as great, as it was Duncan's Dress-Up-Like-Duncan Surprise Birthday Party and A Mad Dash for the Down & Out: Tom Waits Tribute Night! I went to his party dressed as Cake Fight Duncan, in boxer shorts with a cake crown made of a birthday card and safety pins. It was a pleasure to attend, even though we left early to make sure we would get to Tom Waits night in time to get in, and it was a pleasure to catch up with some people I hardly ever see.

    The Tom Waits Tribute Night was another sort of thing altogether. Completely incredible, it was gloriously mad gypsy dirty yet soulful and sweet, like circus music dancing through love songs with boots on. Some of the acts played it sinister, sandpaper rough and intense, while others sang as if their honeyed throats were on fire, a broken hearted sound that could only be put out with poetry or glass. My heart could have burst, it was so full with joy and pride for my friends. It was an astounding show, as memorable as a favourite birthday, as inspiring as only an insanely talented trumpet player twisting out a solo on top of a hammond organ can be. I'd tell you some highlights, but I'm sure if I tried, I'd describe the whole show.

    The after party was pretty nice too. I spent most of it on the couch, curled up by a fire, swaying into the early morning surrounded by warmth and more music, singing a little and catching up with old acquaintances I dearly adore. Tony and I were almost the last to leave, starting our walk home just before dawn, safe from the chill with each other. We lucked upon five raccoons after only a block or two, a family, maybe, playing together, foraging along the sidewalk. When we got close, we stood very still, until they got used to us as we crept along beside them. One of them, slightly braver than the rest, tiny paw raised, body tense with investigation, came up and touched my leg three times, like casting a spell. It worked, we were enchanted, and smiled all the way home.

    Sunday we spent almost the entire day cuddled up in bed, exhausted from being up so late, but glad for it. We forgot completely about the live Jonsi webcast concert, so we watched movies on my laptop, (Return to Oz, Reign of Assassins, & Ghostrider), and poked at the internet until it gave us some of what we need for Halloween, content anyway. Amazon provided Laika's dog costume trimmings, minus a collar and dogtag, and another site had actual soviet space patches covered in bad-ass rockets and lightning. The next thing we need are matching flight suits, but I'll be in Seattle next weekend, and there's a rather epic military surplus store there that should set us up. Aside from that, the only thing missing are my four antennae, which I expect to find at Circuit City or a Radio Shack.
    foxtongue: (Default)
    rubus strigosus
    Mushrooms and bok choy simmering in butter and black pepper, the windows all open, sentences running through my mind, practiced words falling off my tongue like dry, pressed flower petals, to divide fractions, invert the second fraction and multiply, to multiply fractions, multiply the numerators, then multiply the denominators, reduce all to their lowest terms, attempting a memorization of everything I can before my tests this weekend. A gift, but terrifying. I am more hopeful than I was a week ago, but I can't stop feeling doomed. According to the website, the five tests take seven hours and twenty-five minutes to complete. Doomed.

    Tests aside, this upcoming weekend looks fun. Not only is there going to be a steampunk minicon at Barclay Manor on Saturday, World Cup is wrapping up this weekend, which means my neighborhood, Commercial Drive, will be closed to cars and open to PARTY!! Flags, shouting, free food, noise-makers, facepaint, dancing, music, and thousands of people gleefully losing their minds from how utterly freaking awesome it is that some guys in ridiculous socks kicked a ball around some other guys in ridiculous socks and between some posts. Wahoo! Seriously, though, it's epic. EPIC. People travel from as far away as Portland to celebrate here. I came out of the last celebration with a frighteningly scarlet sunburn because my trusty SPF 75 was washed off by an intensely enthusiastic restaurateur shouting ITALIA! ITALY! ITALIA! and spraying the crowd with shaken bottles of champagne. Fwish. No more sunscreen. And rainbows everywhere. Did you know champagne makes especially pretty rainbows when misted through the air? Me neither, not until that party.

    Also coming up: The Vancouver Folk Festival from July 16-18th, the Celebration of Light nee The Symphony of Fire, (USA July 21st, Spain July 24th, Mexico July 28th, and China July 31st), and a castrated Illuminares Lantern Procession on July 24th for those who want to try and cram thousands of people into a small building after parading their children through Crackton.
    foxtongue: (Default)
    HIVE3 was as entertaining as ever, yet in spite of the pushy blow up doll horror movie incident, the near death experience, the cupcake rape-baby incest kiss, and the skunk suicide therapy, the most epic thing I witnessed this weekend was in my apartment: late yesterday afternoon, Lung manfully inflicted a brilliant and surpassingly brave four minute lapdance upon Victoria, my very surprised mother.

    Lung's astonishing strip-tease started mildly, with slow hip swings and mild gyration, but gained momentum as clothes came off, until he was throwing pants at my head and using his belt to better capture my mother, finally finishing with a shocking yet shamefully victorous Full Monty flourish of his genitals.

    No word yet on if he left on his socks.
    foxtongue: (plumhat)
    Ray & Tony's Super Duper Sci-Fi Horror Movie Double Feature Outrageous Day and Night Of Birthday!

    bettmann - moon bridal hat - boston - 1956

    March 21st
    560 Mclean
    noon - 11:30

    Sunday Tea is a roving Vancouver tradition, an open-invite social event held weekly at different venues, generally from 11am-ish to 2pm-ish, depending on the hosts. Basically, if you're reading this, you're invited and so are all your cupcakes, cookies, and most fun friends. This tea is in honour of Ray and Tony's birthdays, (March 16th and 19th, respectively), and goes from noon until it blends into our Sci-Fi Double Feature, (Eden's Log & Pandorum), which starts at seven. (They knows nothing about either film, by the way, make sure not to give anything away!) There will be tea and cake! BYO-anything else. Pyjamas welcome, nudity discouraged. We urge people to bring not only the usual trappings of Sunday Tea, which are tasty snacks and good people, but also party hats, just for fun.

    General rules for Tea are: New people are excellent, children are welcome, tasty things and interesting kinds of tea are encouraged, but no TimBits are allowed.

    Allergy note: our household contains two cats and some nuts.
    foxtongue: (Default)
    "A city can't be too small. Size guarantees anonymity—if you make an embarrassing mistake in a large city, and it's not on the cover of the Post, you can probably try again. The generous attitude towards failure that big cities afford is invaluable—it's how things get created. In a small town everyone knows about your failures, so you are more careful about what you might attempt." - David Byrne

    What surprised me most about the Tiger Lillies show is how gorgeous it was. I was expecting raucous suicide songs, but instead found their show delightful fun, but also rather haunting, as if they were playing the full weight of their twenty years together with every note. The Moore Theater is awfully pretty, which helped, but it really was something in their timbre, a sweetness that ached, sugar in a tooth during the best french kiss you'll ever remember on the birthday you decide you finally feel old. It was blood shivering. Their best trick was to have the audience laugh to the worst, most terrible things, then to mock the laughter with more of the same. I've never heard such dark subject matter vivisected with so much whimsical mirth. It shone a light upon the heart, even as they sang like a house on fire, all bizarre theatrics and kicking kittens down stairs, with voices like elegant flashing sirens.

    The after party wasn't half bad either, a mad robot-themed dance review at the Can Can underground cabaret bar, (delicious food, crazy entertainment), involving two astonishingly limber girls and some not too terrible young men gyrating two feet in front of our front row table, then a set by The Bad Things, a band I crashed with once in a Bellingham squat with the Dandelion Junk Queens. (Because the world really can be that small sometimes). Most memorable, after Rainbow, the intense spinning-from-a-chandelier awe inspiring blond girl who looked uncannily like Sara, was the bachelorette unicorn lap-dance. Sounds unlikely, I know, but it was quite the experience. He whinnied, he pawed, he wore embarrassing sunglasses that matched his skintight bodysuit. It was beyond pretty great. It was, in fact, fantastic.

    The next day, Saturday, was Seacompression, a Seattle burner party held in a repurposed military hanger. Burner parties are much the same wherever you go, a fun fur collision of invention, wacky art, fire sculpture, dance, music, costumes, and people hanging from the ceiling, sometimes with no clothes on. It was a good time, with good people. We drove over with Robin and Rafael, to find Frank and Claire were there, and Adam and Anna, as well as Craig, Richard, Jordan, and Stephanie, though with the crowd, it was rare to run into people more than twice. Most of everyone we found wandering around, except for Jordan, who was hanging out in the white geodesic dome full of pillows, watching as people were locked into a spinning globe machine by crystal tipped metal arms.

    To give you an idea of what it was like, around front was a hacked bus with a fire sculpture on the roof, a hot-rod with a BBQ instead of a trunk, the giant flaming metal hand Tobasco and his crew made, and a pumpkin death pachinko machine. Inside, to the right of the entrance, was a photo booth and a small movie theater (complete with Marquee), and the white chill-out dome. To the left, some couches, the Wheel Of Judgment, a hammock garden, and the hall that led to the main dancefloor, a large room with a raised area in the middle made of cages. Past those, in the main space, were two bouncy ropes hanging from the ceiling, various girls dangling from the ends, tied in by experts, and a performance space behind another bus, where fire dancers were spinning fire and live music played. Mostly we wandered, content to mingle in the madness, though we danced to the EQLateral String Trio and submit ourselves to the Wheel of Judgment. (Tony got a ticket for being "too fury". We think they meant "too furry".) We didn't stay to the end, exhaustion and a desire to be curled up naked won over, but it was a lovely party.

    To top it off, we bought a strand of electric pussy-willows yesterday. Plugged in, they look like the future colliding with magic.

    There are no easy words for how blessed I feel to have such lovely adventures in my life. Also, I had the Tiger Lillies sign my decolletage. Pictures soon.
    foxtongue: (Default)
    "Student Says Vomiting on Painting Was an Artistic Act"

    A big fat scrumptious thank you to everyone who made it out to our all weekend house-party. Though it wasn't crowded, at least fifty of you made it over, even through the cold snap and snow, and kept the party going from Saturday morning to late last night/early this morning. Thank you for coming by, for playing music, for bringing wine and berries and sausages, for coming over early and for staying up late, for appreciating my eggnog crepes and keeping me cooking from 11 am to 11 pm, for bringing unexpected new people, for cuddles on the couch, for throwing snowballs at my window and cheerfully bothering the one armed guy downstairs, who had another snippy middle-of-the-night fight with a drug dealer right outside my window last week. (Thank you William, you will always have a special place in my heart for that). Thank you for everything, and I hope to see you all again soon!
    foxtongue: (26th birthday)
    Bill Murray has been crashing parties and hanging out with strangers.
    (It could happen to you.)

    Across the buildings, a slight gap in the clouds. Keith looks out and says, "oh look, a nice day." A shift in the sky and the blue goes away. Weather whispering gray. Today it snowed briefly in a winter half effort. White flakes, fat with promise, that melted as soon as they touched ground. Now, as before, it is raining.

    I'm glad my week has been wonderful enough to make up for the weather. I cried upon waking my first day back from California, mutely, pained, unhappy. "What's wrong, what is it?" A thousand things, a hundred disappointments, ten I could say aloud, but only one to share, "There's no sky."

    Tuesday: Finally seeing Cory McAbee's The American Astronaut on the big screen was absolutely fabulous. Officially Duncan was hosting it, but my involvement (with That Mike) brought me to the front of the room, answering questions as I sat beside him, swinging my legs under the table that only came up to his knees.

    Wednesday: Amanda Palmer's show with Zoë Keating and the Australian theater company The Danger Ensemble was outrageously Off The Hook. It's an expression I sometimes hate, but I can't think of anything more apt. Zoë Keating was exactly as mind-bendingly glorious as expected, but Amanda Palmer raucously surprised me. Her humour and spark and pure scintillating shine blew juicy, delicious bubbles of overwhelming near-religious delight into every nook and cranny of my brain. Just like everyone else at that show, I think I now love her. It was also a great time to play catch up, as people I love were in attendance I haven't seen in absolutely forever, like Dragos and Tall-Travis. (Also, Kyle, I said Hello for you. She was thrilled.)

    Thursday: As a fluke, while waiting to get in to see Zoë & Amanda Palmer, Andrew Brechin gave David and I a free voucher to Waltz With Bashir, a strong, very personal animated documentary into the horrors of the 1982 Lebanon war. Telling the story of the 1982 Sabra-Shatila massacre of Palestinian refugees through the director's own reclaimed memories, it was educational without preaching, and painful without guilt. At first I was skeptical of the animation style, which reminded me too strongly of old cut scenes and on-line java cartoons, but the story pulled us in, and the animation smoothed as the film continued, leaving us rapt as it drew to a close.

    Tonight: There's a Tom Waits Tribute Night at Cafe Deux Soleils from 8:30 - midnight. "a line up of the who's who in east vancouver gather together to sing the songs of one of the most influential artists around. his world of strange wit and hard luck characters has made a home in each of our hearts. come out dressed in black, red and your fancy feel ready to sing along and stomp the floor silly." Featuring: Blackberry Wood, Tarran the Tailor, my sweet and charming friend Jess Hill, our very own RC Weslowski, CJ Leon, Christie Rose, Chelsea Johnson of the Foxy House which hosted my birthday, Corbin Murdoch, Jeff Andrew, Buffaloswans, Maria in the Shower, Fraser Mclean, Christa Couture, Nick Lakowski, Sarah Macdougal, Pawnshop Diamond, Katie Go Go, and Mike the Swan.

    Tomorrow: Our all day, all night non-denominational, costumes optional, holiday social and house party to celebrate David moving in, with crepes in the morning, tea in the afternoon, and candle-lit silent black and white horror films until dawn. (In regards to BYO: Bring your own syrup, eggs, fruit, or toppings, bring tea, cookies, or pie, bring flowers, feathers, or figs, whatever you feel appropriate, but most importantly, bring yourself.) Extra guests welcome within moderation

    Bonus: Amanda playing Radiohead's Creep on the ukulele for Kyle and Neil at the Cloud Club.
    foxtongue: (beseech)
    Nato, a dear, dreadfully clever and entirely nifty friend of mine, has gone into the very niche business of selling LED Christmas Trees at LEDtrees.com. This thrills me. Oh yes. For I have seen these trees, and lo, they are awesome.

    The first time I encountered an LED tree was years and years ago while I was still in the habit of occasionally Christmas shopping, (yes, I've mostly recovered). The retailers had rented a gutted section of failed stores, taken down the plywood frontage, littered the space with enchanting, glowing trees, and didn't install any lights. Stepping from the grossly shiny Christmas shopping bustle, commercials and glam into a dark, fairy-tale area of soft, gleaming, colourful trees... It was stellar, wondrous. Completely Narnia. I may never forget it. It felt like creeping around a corner and stumbling sideways into the fantastic. Science as a substitute for the mad ceremonial waste of precious tree flesh. Pretty science. Pretty and really, really neat, making me happy in a gleeful child sort of way, like that "magic" wand I posted.

    I love the internet world we live in, how connected we can be to anything we like. I love that something I'd always thought of as skin riveting rare is something that a friend is in business in. I especially like the white ones that look like some deliriously designed set piece created for a preposterous yet super stylish retro-future. Timeless and absurd, all at once, the Christmas tree Barbarella would ask for to go with her albino bearskin space-ship, or a fashionable, couture Dexter, (Showtime's nonsensical, blood-splatter serial killer who feels nothing, but for ANGST!), to go with his immaculate, crimson clean lab. I'm obscurely proud that Nato keeps one hanging upside down above his desk, a cheerful lunatic lamp all year round. I want to do the same.

    Of course, that said, it's not like I've done Christmas for several years. This year, though, David and I are batting around the idea of having a Hannekuweenmas house-warming party, (it's not our fault he wasn't moved in by October 31st), an all day non-denominational, costumes optional, holiday social and house party, with crepes in the morning, tea in the afternoon, and candle-lit silent black and white horror films until dawn. What do you think? Would you come?

    Thanks to a new technique, DNA strands can be easily converted into tiny fibre optic cables that guide light along their length.
    foxtongue: (bright spring)


    from their site:

    Held this Saturday at Hans Haveron Studios this event will be stuffed full of excellence. Look forward to:

  • Art, photography & fashion exhibit
  • Refreshments, with Mer’s “special” Electric Lemonade
  • Incredibly strange music
  • Photo booth with weird medical props, straight from Zo’s cave
  • Wall projections of Issue 01 art
  • Your first glimpse at the actual magazine!

    Enjoy art.
    Become art via expert lenses of Polaroid superstar Lou O’ Bedlam and Zo! Style Technician’s own Andrew Yoon.
    Dress your snazziest and bring your friends.
    Everyone’s invited!


    I'm sending Antony as my proxy, as the second best thing to being there, but hell, if I were even a smidgen closer, I'd drop everything to attend. My friends are doing snazzy work and I support them 100%. (And, yes, one day I'll get around to writing an article, I promise). I hope every single one of you who live down there will go and send me photos! My bleak little heart will break if you don't.
  • hot damn

    Jun. 15th, 2008 04:47 pm
    foxtongue: (moi?)
    Thank you to the 200+ people who came out and made my birthday party awesome!

    With special thanks to the Creaking Planks, you rock the house.
    foxtongue: (see the sky)

    Day 95: Happy Birthday to Me. Originally uploaded by SaylaMarz.
    The amazing, astonishing, astounding, fantastic, fantastical, incredible, marvelous, miraculous, phenomenal, stupendous, unbelievable, wonderful, wondrous party...

    Jhayne's Fashionably Late Birthday is this Friday, the 13th!
    at the Foxy House, 1531 east 4th ave

    with special guest star, the talented and glorious Venus Soberanes, who will also be celebrating her birthday with us!

    The party has been become significantly more organized since I first posted about it, and all to the better. We've added a special birthday guest, a magic show, a pirate band, and a beautiful sauna-inna-truck, (which sounds sketchy, but isn't at all), with the possibility of a drag show and a belly-dancer.

    The schedule is shaping up as follows:

    6 pm to 9:00 pm: BBQ in the garden, yum! Bring food to make, food to share, and/or whatever else you want; wine, fruit, pudding, etc. Vegan/vegetarian friendly is an asset.

    10:00 pm: Magic show. Yes, a magic show. Because we are awesome.

    10:40 pm: Unconfirmed drag show.

    11:15 pm: The Creaking Planks, a pirate shanty band full of accordion and wash-tub bass.

    11 pm to 2-3 am: Sauna by donation, bring a towel!

    11 pm to ?? am: Dancing. Kitchen party-osity.

    Please come at any time, stay as long as you want, and BYO-whatever you like. Easy suggestions include: Instruments, ice-cream, jell-o, glitter, spray-on hair dye, sidewalk chalk, funny hats, spare change, chocolate, pudding, bubbles, cake, cookies, sock puppets, music, games, cheeses, fake mustaches, body-paint... Costumes are always welcome, towels are recommended.
    foxtongue: (moi?)
    foxtongue
    foxtongue, a breath-taking birthday present from my dear friend,
    Juan Santapau, creator and president for life of The Secret Knots.


    To be put into immediate effect: Cake and ice-cream this evening, my place, 6:30.
    foxtongue: (moi?)
    365 day one hundred & thirty-one: precious little mind
    An amazing, astonishing, astounding, fantastic, fantastical, incredible, marvelous, miraculous, phenomenal, stupendous, unbelievable, wonderful, wondrous party, Jhayne's Fashionably Late Birthday is back!

    (When you only have a birthday party every two years, you really have to make it count.)

    When: Friday, June 13, 2008 at 6:00pm
    Where: the Foxy House, 1531 east 4th ave


    BYO-whatever you like.

    Easy suggestions include: Instruments, ice-cream, wine, glitter, spray-on hair dye, sidewalk chalk, chocolate, fruit, bubbles, cake, cookies, sock puppets, music, games, cheeses, fake mustaches, body-paint...

    Rumour says there may be a bar and/or a BBQ, to be confirmed closer to the date.
    foxtongue: (bright spring)
    “It’s been believed in the past that the camera steals souls. I once thought this preposterous. Now I think it’s self-evident.

    This is why we photograph. The fear of oblivion, ours and our worlds. We will inevitably die, but our photographs, if they’re honest, if they show our lives with clarity, unafraid, our photographs will preserve us. Our souls at least. Who we were inside, and the things we saw. Our images? Particles of light that have been traveling forever bounced off our subjects, were focused through our lens into the tender tissue of our eye, and our brain, and our film. Now, those very same shapes, made by those very same particles, the same ones we saw, others can see. Forever, they can see that fraction of a second we saw.

    That’s immortality.” -Clayton Cubitt, 2005


    Scientists discover exotic quantum state of matter.

    May is quickly waltzing into being, every day one delicate step closer, bringing with it spring and, with that, my birthday. Fragile, the social ties holding me to it. Already people have started asking about a party, as I worked through my birthday last year. So once again, and this year I mean it, does anyone know of an appropriate venue for my birthday party at the end of May? My apartment is far too small to hold the 100+ people who will wander through during the course of the day and outdoors, really, is never an option I care for. It's impossible to foster the security of the microcosm we call a kitchen party in a park.

    What I'm hoping for is the kind loan of a house with a yard for a BBQ that won't mind if we go over-night, preferably with crash space, that won't mind if we cook breakfast in the morning. Last time our resident Stephen was kind enough to lend us his place, but it has since been partitioned and rented out to people. (I think Frankie's girlfriend's sister or something now lives in the basement, like, just to go to show how small this city really can be.) It was perfect, big, two yards, just off the Drive.

    It came out unscathed, too, minus a large pile of dishes in the kitchen we cleaned up the next day, two snapped guitar strings, and, I think, one broken glass. The people I know tend to be remarkably tidy when it comes to parties, we're not hard-drinking bar-stars with anything to prove, more the sort of argue films and physics over spanish guitar on the porch. Profit: fifteen dollars in returnable bottles, a set of car and house keys no one ever claimed, (I still have them, people, identify them and they're yours), and some wonderfully embarrassing arm-wrestling photos.

    So, please, if this sounds remotely feasible, drop me a line if you've got a place or know of one. Let's see if we can't work something out.


    edit: so far we've got the foxy house. anyone else?
    foxtongue: (welcome to the sideshow)
    Why go go to several parties, when you could come to this one?

    To celebrate the joy that is having a sane and compatible roommate, we are inviting you to come and partake of Heima, the recent Sigur Ros movie, TONIGHT.

    Doors at seven, movie at eight, questionable party games, anytime.

    Food welcome, also donations, as oh noes, I'm being bilked by a software jerk who doesn't want to pay for writing because "that isn't real work anyway."* If you're worried you're going to be coming over too late, don't. Just call.


    BYO-anything you like.

    I realize that with the snow, travel is suddenly a bit of an issue. I hope you find it within yourself to come out anyway, as it's nice to have company to make cold nights cozy. For those worried about getting stuck, we have plenty of crash space and blankets.


    *I had a verbal agreement with someone to do three pages of technical writing for them, now they're saying they don't have to pay, just in time for rent. My favourite quote "think of it as a contribution to your community". I've posted what happened to the technical writing forum I collected the job from, and have sent him a very legal e-mail stating that the written work remains my property until he pays me for it. Unless I catch him, though, I'm pretty sure the point is moot.
    foxtongue: (dream machine)
    365 day five: hip-hop resolve
    356: day 5

    I just went for tea with a long haired, one eyed stranger I met on the bus. Turns out we've got people in common, of course, this being Vancouver, and, even worse, this being Commercial Drive. Now he and everyone else are at a house party that I can almost see from my balcony window, at the place around the corner with the Tibetan prayer flags.

    Full of hippies, burners, and a scattering of hip-hop designers, bicycle people, and uncomfortably with-it computer nerds smoking prodigious amounts of weed, the party felt very east side, very easy. I went in just long enough to assess the situation, then slipped home to take my daily picture and drop off my things, (there's no reason to be hauling around personal items within spitting distance from my own front door), but I've already been here over an hour, trapped by the inertia of sucking about on the internet. I hope River's still there. I'm going to post this and go back out.

    edit: the next day, the woman who lives there somehow found this post through my livejournal to facebook RSS feed. the internet wins.

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    foxtongue

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