brief update as to what i've been up to:


however, i am planning for some future activities: it never snows in vancouver except maybe once or twice a year during december. i'm hoping for a bit of snow so i can go take some panoramic photos of the city under snow. i didn't get a chance to do that last year. when it does snow, i'll post some photos on my photo blog. i am also in the hunt for a missing roll of film from my u.s. trip. some great pictures of colorado were on that roll. i'd better find it...

in terms of writing, i've just been biding my time, not trying to force anything. what little i've written has been focused primarily on vancouver and how much i just love this fucking city. i was rollerblading near yew and 5th and there was this steep hill which allows you to see the rest of the city. say what you want, but there's beauty in the city. you just have to know where to look.

one of the things about vancouver that used to bother me so much was the fact that a lot of the buildings in downtown vancouver, especially the newer residential ones, are all the same: they all have that tepid turquoise coloration on the windows. one day as i was going over the granville bridge, on a particular cloudy vancouver day, i realized how gorgeous the city looked with that color. this is the only time when that color looks good. and since vancouver is so cloudy/rainy on a regular basis, i don't mind that color any more.

anyway, here's a snippet i wrote for the book. it took me five minutes to write it literally as i was thinking of a topic to write about on this blog:

Blink. And it’s gone. The love. You can be enamoured with something but give it enough time, it becomes pedestrian, and when it gets pedestrian, you take it for granted. Blink. And it’s gone. The love is something that you really want to try to keep a hold of. When you find it, you grab onto it with both hands. Feverish. And it’s this love that Monty feels, staring up at the lights. He sits on a park bench, wooden, steel framed. Bare-naked trees surround him, strategically placed in the artificial park. Manufactured life standing in for nature, like surrogates, surrounded by brick and steel. There’s a parking garage to one side and an alley to the other reeking of what god knows: Shit, blood and cum. Hanging from the bare branches are strings of blue florescent lights. Decorative. Small, sparkling beacons beneath the pitch black sky. Monty sits alone on the bench, staring up at the lights. He’s been there for almost two hours. The night gets deeper and so does the love: the love of the little peace that he craves. He doesn’t question where he finds it or when: he just accepts. And as this feeling soars, he cannot let go, because it’ll be a long way down.