little fluffy clouds

i was chatting with someone who was on his way to YVR to see this guy, this guy who was on his way to japan. they've been together across four provinces for the last few months, reaching out to each other over the internet, over the electronic web. he was excited to go on vacation to see him, but at the same time excited enough to talk to me every night until he left on the plane into the clouds.

i picture the plane in my mind like a little charge flying through the ether. at once a giant engine flying and a speck of energy just dissipating into nothingness. what keeps us all together? what keeps the very faint connections together? so fragile when we meet, so haphazard when we try to touch one and another, it's a connection in transit. i didn't hear it at first, but when i spoke to him that last night, i heard how a little bit of him already disappeared and never reaching the distance to me. or to him.

it's not enough to want something. you need something to connect. something. a spark.

liberal minority

whew! stephen harper and his alien eyes did not win! but as brian tobin said, it's a solid liberal minority. um. what's that? i love that spin! love those talking heads on the tube filling dead air while the vote trickles in. they should all work as client services reps!

remember kiddies, your vote counts!

happy pride!

someone should pitch this new reality tv show idea. it's called gay survivor. throw a group of gays into a circuit party circuit. have them travel around the world doing various manly obstacles with their alliances and partners, like making a fire on a frozen mountain ledge in their tighty whities before going to black and blue. give them only a map, a water bottle, a few tabs of placebos (but tell them it's E), and tank tops that are custom made to show off their hard pecs, along with jeans that make their asses look big. see if they can out-gay, out-fit and out-last their competitors to become the sole gay survivor.

i barely survived the beer garden. standing by a tree, drinking labatt's blue (it's called blue cos what else would you call piss-water?), feeling a bit claustrophobic, wondering where are the cute boys, i know i can't win this game.

but it did make me think how nice it was to see all these people, celebrating and just plain happy. i was happy to be with friends and glad to have been trapped in the beer garden happy people... well, also because brucebruce bought the beer and i didn't have to line up for it. next year, i will be more gay!

butterfly readings

right now i'm reading M's screenplay and sparky's novella, both titles mentioning "butterfly". both with people painting. both about finding passion. one from someone i fell in love with, but couldn't reach, couldn't touch his heart. the other one from someone i could love, but i won't, because i can't reach him, and touch his heart.

i'm profoundly sad at the coincidences. sad that both pieces touch me. just sad.

Movie of the Week

White Chicks - **1/2

last week, i won a preview pass to see White Chicks, the Wayans brothers new film. I took Y to the Paramount, since it was so his kind of movie.

the wayans were very funny as white chicks, but dull as black men. the movie came to a grinding halt everytime they came out of costume and acted like the boring FBI agents they were. in fact, the jokes outside of the white chicks world were dull dull dull.

definitely would recommend as a rental on a boring night, preferably with a few other DVDs for that special comedy night where the booze makes you think some things are funnier than others.

short shorts

i was thinking the other day, that why do men's shorts have to be so long? what happened to all those tight short shorts that men used to wear back in.. let's say.. the 70s? i thought how sad the dressed up 80s glam and the dressed down 90s grunge had taken out the sexiness of short shorts.

funny enough, Y made a prediction today - right out of the blue. short shorts will come back. specifically tennis shorts. come back where, you ask? come back on a decent set of legs, i hope!

spicy or not spicy?

maggie is moving to HK soon, and so she, Y, my sister beingboring and i went out to korean town for some spicy food. or not so spicy food. beingboring had the yummy looking but not so spicy yuk kae jang, i had not spicy bulgogi and both maggie & Y had dolsot bibimbap, but spicy on the side. food was pretty good, but i keep asking why does korean food have to be spicy? and why do people keep moving away from toronto? like WTF?

but the highlight of the night was on the way back in maggie's car, wherein beingboring insisted that the souvenir Las Vegas pens from maggie smelled fruity. we all smelled our pens, smelled the ink and smelled each other's pens. i dunno why, but my pen only smelled like a pen. we must've looked like a bunch of addicts smelling our pens.

get thee to a nunnery

on the way to see my friend for coffee, i passed by a spare any change bum. a woman walked ahead of me and passed him without saying a word. she was a nun and was busy on her cellphone. so i thought, hell, if the sister doesn't spare some change, why should i? but the bum didn't ask me for change. he wanted a light.

konnichiwa!

i had lunch today with YY, and Y2's friend Yumi @ konnichiwa. so, that's technically, lunch with Y cubed, listening to japanese and eating japanese food. yum!

i didn't know, but you can order onigiri from the menu. those ultra-polite japanese owners don't boldly post the japanese menu, instead there's this tiny tiny japanese section in the menu that says you can order onigiri. three kinds! you can have the seaweed kind, plum kind and the bonito flakes kind. they don't do the chinese by tormenting non-speakers with big bold signs on the wall or handing out the "real" menu to the chinese customers. those japanese. they're so kind! that's why it's konnichiwa.

we had an animated discussion about all sorts of things, like how big german sausages are. unlike the japanese people (always a good sign when there are japanese people eating in the same japanese restaurant as you are), who looked like church-goers and apparently discussing real serious things. like the politics. like paul martin. oh wait, he's not terribly serious. paul martin's just desperate.

writer's block

today, i read a lovely little article about writer's block. that's writer's block for everyone in the 20th century, but lack of divine inspiration for everyone before. so here i am trying to start this blog, and i decide that i'm really stuck trying to figure out what the bloody hell to call this blog.

so, i'm not divinely inspired. i'm just betaman.