wac *boy co ltd.

PDCID c.2006, Part 2.

2006-03-18T00:35:00.000Z

Paddy's Day celebrations in Dublin circa 2006.

2006-03-17T23:07:00.000Z

No explanation required, really.

Wierd television in Geneva.

2006-02-27T13:08:00.000Z

Weird graffiti in Geneva.

2006-02-27T13:01:00.000Z

Wierd trees in Geneva.

2006-02-27T12:56:00.000Z

The city of 50 dollar ($Cdn) Chinese lunch-time takeaway. A big money city.

MBC... MBC.

2006-02-27T09:19:00.000Z

Micro brasserie de Chamonix. A lovely little brew-pub in on the edge of Chamonix village that is owned by three Canadian expats... Micro Brasserie Canadienne. It was the scene of a little bit of Irish-Canadian drama of its own.

(Untitled Post)

2006-02-26T13:44:00.000Z

Absolutely mentalists... I nearly skied off a crevasse trying to find some fresh powder off-piste, which was crazy enough. These guys are either truly courageous or truly insane, depending on wind conditions.

Une raison pour faire du ski.

2006-02-26T12:08:00.000Z

The storied mountain valley of Chamonix, Fra.

2006-02-26T12:02:00.000Z

C'est Burton, ça.

2006-02-26T12:00:00.000Z

An enviable plotline.

2006-02-26T10:51:00.000Z

The diminutive church of Grands Montets

2006-02-26T10:50:00.000Z

French and Irish culture clash, but MasterCard is accepted.

2006-02-25T13:08:00.000Z

Ecole du Ski Français meet the golden lady.

2006-02-25T11:32:00.000Z

Poor guy. He didn't know what he was in for...

(Untitled Post)

2006-02-25T11:26:00.000Z

Glorious Argentiere.

2006-02-25T10:26:00.000Z

The traditional Savoyarde village where you can get the best sandwich in the world for less that a glass of Guinness in Dublin.

ASBOW, Part 4.

2006-01-29T16:35:00.000Z

ASBOW, Part 3.

2006-01-29T16:33:00.000Z

ASBOW, Part 2.

2006-01-29T15:46:00.000Z

A short bit of walkabout.

2006-01-29T14:25:00.000Z

MSMMMLFG, Part 4.

2006-01-02T12:07:00.000Z

MSMMMLFG, Part 3.

2006-01-02T12:04:00.000Z

MSMMMLFG, Part 2.

2006-01-02T12:02:00.000Z

Mackintosh's spoiling masterpiece made me lust for Glaswegianism.

2006-01-02T12:01:00.000Z

I'm so lucky to be living over here- you can drive to Edinburgh in under a day, even with the Irish Sea (North Sea?) in between. And that's what we did on the way back. Since the ferry crossing is quite short we had some time in Glasgow to visit the Macintosh (famous early modern architect) art school too. Whoopiie.

...but does the Queen ever gaze upwards when she comes to Holyroodhouse?

2006-01-01T14:49:00.000Z

We were informed that this is a working palace.

2006-01-01T14:45:00.000Z

Arthur's Seat.

2006-01-01T14:38:00.000Z

CGGSAASP, Part 3.

2006-01-01T13:46:00.000Z

CGGSAASP, Part 2. (These are the best bits.)

2006-01-01T13:41:00.000Z

Catalan genius goes somewhat awry at Scottish parliament.

2006-01-01T13:35:00.000Z

RKOTCTACZA, Part 2.

2006-01-01T12:29:00.000Z

Female figure in landscape.

2006-01-01T12:24:00.000Z

Rosicrucians, Knights of Templar, conspiracy theorists and cousin Zak alike.

2006-01-01T12:23:00.000Z

TSIOFOE, Part 2. (Happy New Year!)

2006-01-01T00:06:00.000Z

The sky is on fire over Edinburgh.

2006-01-01T00:05:00.000Z

So, actual Hogmanay night was completely sober and somewhat quiet the next evening. We blew off the street party and stood on the top of historic Calton Hill with the Irish friends and watched Edinburgh Castle explode in light. Magnificent.

AGBBH, Part 3.

2005-12-31T13:54:00.000Z

AGBBH, Part 2.

2005-12-31T13:53:00.000Z

A gloomy but beautiful hangover. (Carton Hill has the goods.)

2005-12-31T13:52:00.000Z

Stumbling home to our Georgian oasis for a very long night of poker.

2005-12-31T01:20:00.000Z

This is not the ceiling of a cathedral.

2005-12-31T01:16:00.000Z

Just the Gothic night. Splendid. Splendid.

2005-12-30T17:05:00.000Z

Hogmanay Evening begins a day early for Flanagans et al.

2005-12-30T17:01:00.000Z

We peaked a bit sooner than expected... something to do with an absolutely amazing dinner on the 30th at a posh fish restaurant in New Town (not that new) where we ran into some friends of Orla's also over for Hogmanay... that led into a four hour poker tourney back at the hotel where my brand new and rather unique bottle of single malt got prematurely -you could say unnecessarily- drained in large part by my dear cousin. Still, Zakary got his comeuppance around sunrise when Orla kicked his butt and won a massive pile of cigarettes that were standing in for chips. The aftermath kind of freaked out our wonderful hostess when she tried to deliver room service in the morning, but it was worth it.

(Untitled Post)

2005-12-30T15:18:00.000Z

The Gothic and the post-Gothic.

2005-12-30T14:58:00.000Z

All the driving was a bit hard on my back, but was definitely the best way to see the North and across to Ayrshire, up to Glasgow and finally over to Edinburgh (via a confused set of direction from Orla) where we stayed 4 nights in a beautifully restored Georgian townhouse. Everything there was perfect. Really. Worth every penny. And right on the edge of town centre so we could walk to everything.

Pater, are you this jolly?

2005-12-30T13:57:00.000Z

Finally the Giant's Causeway.

2005-12-28T16:21:00.000Z

PILTBM, Part 4.

2005-12-28T15:45:00.000Z

PILTBM, Part 3.

2005-12-28T15:42:00.000Z

PILTBM, Part 2.

2005-12-28T15:16:00.000Z

Places I'd like to be more. (Castles I'd like to live in.)

2005-12-28T15:10:00.000Z

(Untitled Post)

2005-12-28T15:09:00.000Z

If we couldn't stay in a crumbling castle, then it would have to be the Belfast Hilton the next night. That decision was easy really. The Hilton was right beside the rink where we saw Theo Fleury play ice hockey in Ireland! Who knew?! Apparently he was turfed from the NHL over drug addiction problems. The 'Belfast Giants' played a team from England and it wasn't quite up to standard, but was pretty fun nonetheless. And they won. And the beer was better than the Saddledome. Theo was a bit of a dick to the fans though.

The road trip has begun!

2005-12-28T15:08:00.000Z

Well the whole week with Zak and Julia and Orla kicked, although it was very expensive with the car rental, ferry rides, hotels, etc. We stayed our first night on the west coast of Ireland in Donegal town (in the Republic, but quite far north) at a relatively cheap hostel and that was enough slumming for me...

Stefan-bear gets tipsy at Christmas in Dublin.

2005-12-25T12:59:00.000Z

(Untitled Post)

2005-12-07T16:59:00.000Z

What if life were like a live reality television show beamed across the universe and the extra-terrestrial voting audience could send you packing at the end of the program?

AMPCMAINL... GGG, Part 3.

2005-12-06T14:29:00.000Z

AMPCMAINL... GGG, Part 2.

2005-12-06T14:27:00.000Z

As my petty concerns melt away into Neolithic landscapes... going, going gone.

2005-12-06T13:01:00.000Z

It’s been an emotionally tough few days here in various ways, but today I visited a bunch of archeology sites in County Meath and that made me feel happy. It’s so easy to forget how beautiful this island is when you are living in Dublin. And somebody left behind their Damien Rice album in the rental car, so that was a nice little karma gift.

A happy birthday indeed. (Italo Calvino was right.)

2005-12-05T21:23:00.000Z

It changes a place when your memories of that place have changed. The change can be instant, encapsulated in the experience which is making that memory and then, literally, the landscape is transformed around your feet, or your head, or your bare arms. You could be walking down the same street that you walked down yesterday, but this time walking along the pavement with family or old friends (from a different place, a home even) instead of walking down that street alone or with empty thoughts. I suppose this is even truer when you happen to be walking down that street with the person who gave birth to you and it’s her birthday (and the sun is shining).

OACDYCSW, Part 3.

2005-11-12T20:54:00.000Z

OACDYCSW, Part 2.

2005-11-12T20:53:00.000Z

On a clear day you can see Wales.

2005-11-12T20:37:00.000Z

A spectactular building site for a great house design (worth the €1200 deposit for the rental car), with more and better to come.

MST, Part 4.

2005-10-15T21:09:00.000+01:00

MST, Part 3.

2005-10-15T20:43:00.000+01:00

MST, Part 2.

2005-10-15T17:04:00.000+01:00

Manchester school tripping.

2005-10-14T23:40:00.000+01:00

Manchester was classic, but I am getting too old for these things. Like singing traditional Irish folk songs at high volume in your 5-star hotel room at sunrise after a long night's inebriation. (And another night before that.) It just does your head in.

HIOASDRA, Part 3.

2005-10-09T21:58:00.000+01:00

HIOASDRA, Part 2.

2005-10-09T21:23:00.000+01:00

Another mega-disaster occupies the broadcast television landscape, but, as before, Ireland seems so far removed. The grass is still oh-so-green, the Martello towers still stand tall (but empty) on formerly occupied coastline, and the pubs are still full of drunks spilling Guinness on their shoes. Nice.

Howth is only a short DART ride away.

2005-10-09T21:04:00.000+01:00

Top of the Pops is lovely, especially that delicious little host with her impeccable musical taste.

An undeserved but infectious optimism. (And London was such a great time!)

2005-10-08T01:37:00.000+01:00

As much as I am foreign, I'm from here... It's getting right, slowly, and I'm not moving for a while. Nice bit, that.

What are you on about?

Nothing... Just the crack.

Autumn's here, Autumn's here.

2005-09-10T16:42:00.000+01:00

Today it is cold and damp again, and I sense that the Irish summertime may be coming to an unfortunate end. The weather seems to really suit the place though. Maybe that’s true of everywhere, but I think it’s particularly true here on the island— I mean they don’t have thermal inversion produced smog waves. Perhaps what I’m trying to say is that I’m not depressed by the overcast sky, or the rain, in quite the same fashion that an oppressive, grey February day can kill your spirit in Toronto.

It’s been over a week since Jim went home (two maybe, I’m not that good at keeping calendar time these days) and I didn’t realize in advance how different it would be for me here without him; even though most of the time we were actually living in different counties. At first I felt quite alone, and I suppose I still do. But for some reason I woke up today excited about the prospect of a) not being hung-over (having skipped out on two separate and reasonably persuasive pub invites); b) having the apartment all to myself (Fiona is away on holidays); and c) being on my own, spending careless/ carefree time reading Hot Press, making eggs, drinking coffee, taking pictures, reading more of this incredible book by Safran Foer and that kind of stuff. No plans.

Having said that, I may just still be in recovery mode— needing downtime. Last weekend was an incredible, massive, (almost) apocalyptic event at the Electric Picnic in Stradbally. It was my first true European music festival and my god everything in North America sucks in comparison. Everything. Every concert you’ve ever been to, every stupid weekend at Molson Park. All crap. What a great time, except for the fact that I kept getting separated from the people that I was with. While getting lost amongst 25,000 otherworldly-wasted people in the verdant, rolling hills of central Ireland may sound like a good time, it isn’t really. (Although the grass is so green and so long and so soft!) For some reason though, we always found each other, always in a different place and always in somewhat different groupings. Sometimes too I just made new friends, like the really nice couple from Belfast who rocked out with me to The Flaming Lips. And getting strip searched by the Garda undercover drug squad was also quite fun (partly because they didn’t find anything). By the way, Arcade Fire did Montreal proud— truly, they were transcendental.

I think it will be good for me to have to slow down a bit, to stop and think more, to be forced to contemplate life without the usually safety net. I must have known this before I came to Ireland. Really, what’s to feel bad about? If I wanted to, I could be in Paris browsing art at the Louvre later this afternoon, probably for no more money than I spent last weekend at the Electric Picnic. You can’t do that in Toronto.

It was a great summer –a strange summer, an emotional summer and a most of all, an unexpected summer– but it was, without question, a great summer. I know Jim thought so too.

Jimmy draining away the pride of Islay.

2005-08-24T07:34:00.000+01:00

I think he thought this was art photography, but mostly it makes him look a bit mental. Still, it was a pretty darn good birthday, what with all the music.

Me and the lil' fish crusin' down to Fish Creek for a little Ranche-y din din.

2005-08-12T00:37:00.001+01:00

Oh 'cause I'm sittin’ on the balcony at The Sweepstakes listening to the breeze in the trees and what might be a half-distant sound check for tomorrow night's Pixies show that washes up from across the River Dodder and I'm crusin' on free wireless from some poor lad that doesn't understand encryption and I'm drinkin' a nice glass of port and it's good to be back in Ireland, great actually, even though Canada welcomed me home in a most salubrious fashion, I think that right at this very second there is almost no place I’d rather be.

Here's to the Flanagans though and Kyla and her new mate and the wicked dinner that was had by all (not counting the excessive garlic).

SISSS, Part 7.

2005-07-31T21:29:00.000+01:00

This nattily dressed old fellow is walking on the grave of a 2000 year old warrior queen named Maeve. I did it too, because it was quite a hike up Knocknarea hill and the view from on top of her enormous cairn was worth it.

SISSS, Part 6.

2005-07-31T21:17:00.000+01:00

Bird's eye view of the (occasional) land bridge to Coney Island. If you look closely you can see the stone bollards that substitute for highway markings.

SISSS, Part 5.

2005-07-31T21:14:00.000+01:00

Our wonderful lilliputian island, Sligo Bay, Rosses Point and the Atlantic Ocean beyond.

SISSS, Part 4.

2005-07-31T20:51:00.000+01:00

SISSS, Part 3.

2005-07-31T17:06:00.000+01:00

We camped here, just off the beach where the ocean spreads out, unstopped, until the North American coast. My God it was good- even the big scary cows that came to visit us in the middle of the night made me happy.

SISSS, Part 2.

2005-07-30T21:10:00.000+01:00

This dude didn't make it.

Surfing in Sligo, slippery, slippery.

2005-07-30T21:04:00.000+01:00

Sligeach is a great little town on the west coast of Ireland, where you can, without question, have the best pint of Guinness of your life at a rather cramped but particularly incredible pub called "Shoot the Crows". However, we didn't stay in town, because we came to camp- and the landscape out here is too fantastic to miss.

One of our friends with a local connection decided we should try camping on a small island nearby in Sligo Bay. It was the best decision anyone made all weekend. You have to see this place to believe it, but just in case you can't make the trip, check out http://www.rossespoint.com/coney.htm for some very colourful description, including an explanation of the Coney Island namesake. Suffice to say this place has only one permanent resident, no telephones, no police, no plumbing, no shops, and, come to think of it, not much in the way of roads either. Our only way onto Coney Island was either by boat (no good for the rental car) or via a muddy causeway from Cummeen Strand at low tide. The tides are constantly changing, but thankfully we hit the causeway when the tide was out. The Ford Focus hatchback is not amphibious, even though it can fit eight people plus camping gear when stretched.

Of course Jim took the wheel at the very end of our cross-country journey; just when things were starting to get kind of fun.

Cultural differences, geography, time and space.

2005-07-25T21:58:00.000+01:00

Today I was in a strange mood. Not strange, disturbing, or strange distressing, just kind of strange. I think it was because I'm actually starting to feel like it's normal to be here. I mean this morning it felt like I could have been getting up in Parkdale and riding the streetcar to work downtown, gazing half-asleep out the window, trying not to get too close to the stinky "crazy" guy whose elbow is half-stuck in my abdomen. I guess it helped that I had my headphones on here too- riding the DART commuter train into Pearse station- and that I was listening to the CBC Radio3 podcast from the weekend, but still, the whole day just felt so routine! Then shortly after work I began to realize that some sort of geographic-temporal-metaphysical shift was in process and that should have scared me a bit, but it didn’t. Maybe I’m finally getting over the jet lag.

Tonight I stumbled across the Live8 Canada show archived on Aol.com and got sucked into watching the Neil Young sing-a-long and of course that made me feel homesick again. Homesick for places where you don’t have to remember to turn the electric immersion water heater on when you want to wash the dishes or have a bath, and off when you’re finished because otherwise you’re paying to heat up the bugs in the closet.

I really am living in such a paradise.

2005-07-24T02:05:00.000+01:00

It's true, and Bono and The Edge live just around the corner on this same hill, looking out on beautiful Killiney Bay. If you pretend the sun is shining and it's warmer than 16 degrees, you could be anywhere on a southern Italian coastline, pondering existential questions about... something or other. I guess I've done some pondering here too. That last spam post/e-mail was too long. Really, if I am going to speak to an abstract audience, I might as well speak to the anonymous web log; she doesn't speak back and that could be for the best.

But the Dalkey commute is not sustainable. And I don’t have any friends here anyway. Bono’s been away, busy bending the arms of Prime Ministers.

Alison and I made it into the society pages of The Dubliner magazine's latest issue. We just showed up for a talk by local-hero fashion guru John Rocha at a surprisingly intimate venue on Stephen’s Green last month. It was sponsored by a big champagne company, so we got bonus drinks too. Free drinks are a dime a dozen here.

I am beginning to get over the disturbing filth of this semi-deteriorated city, juxtaposed with the new money, the Hummers, the real-estate bubble, those eight-dollar pints, the bake-on tans and all other fascinating qualities of modern-day Dublin. It’s creeping up on me, quietly, surreptitious-like, not dissimilar in methodology to Calgary, Alberta. Suddenly one day I may come to love Dublin.

Whelan’s
Anseo
Ocean Bar
That place that reminds Jim of Kensington Market
The Irish Sea
Takeaway from The Unicorn Café
Bulmer’s Cider
Any time the sun shines on St. Stephen’s Green

are all fucking wonderful, banishing grey skies, grey memories, and sweeping away the grey streets.

-Yer (Dublin) Man.

"Celtic Tiger, Mark 2"

2005-06-20T20:14:00.000+01:00

...In Ireland, circa 2005, this is a small job.

First impressions.

2005-05-22T22:01:00.000+01:00

Dia dhuit,

So, I've finally had some time to rest after a very very long week. I'm still in Wicklow, staying with Jim's aunt and uncle (there are many, and even more cousins). I will probably be here until early June since I've only just started making enquiries about flats and I'm sure that, as always, I will be a bit picky about where I end up. That’s OK, because Fred and Kathleen are super nice and seem used to maintaining a bit of a hotel for visiting friends and family. I feel quite at home already. Wicklow is a pretty little town about an hour south of Dublin City by car, or, if you are unlucky like me, about a 90 minute bus ride each direction. It is quite lush and green in Wicklow County, perhaps because it never stops raining.

I can’t say that I truly understand this place yet, but it is starting to make some sense to me as nation and a culture; not too different from our own, but just different enough to confuse and also bemuse even well travelled Anglophones. Everything here is changing at lightning speed and this is reflected quite clearly in the office where I work. The Irish economy is completely out of step with the rest of the EEC; that is, it is considerably stronger and has been for some time. By all appearances, Ireland went straight from the famine years into a late but highly successful global capitalist agenda, skipping everything in between. You can imagine what this has meant for the architecture, construction and engineering industries, let alone the local real estate markets. Half the city is crumbling and grey, the other half is shiny and new (a bit like Berlin, but without the legacy of Second World War bombing). Many beautiful Georgian facades still exist around Dublin, but a great number are in a sad state of repair and most of the wealth has escaped to what are called “estate” developments slightly further from the core. Basic infrastructure is still inferior to most of mainland Europe, but the country is catching up quickly with the help of underpaid construction workers from Turkey and elsewhere.

The newspapers are full of stories about “rip-off Ireland” and it’s true, things are expensive here. More importantly though, I never have to fear of being laid-off. In fact, I can imagine that the only reason I’d ever leave would be by choice. According to the Garda National Immigration Bureau, I’m legal until May 6, 2007. However, this work authorization is renewable until the Irish Parliament decides to change its visa exemption rules. The city is teeming with foreigners. Our office, a posh five floor infill building smack in the centre of old Dublin, has representatives of at least 17 different countries now (including a single Canadian), but the number tends to change weekly. It is a bit of factory; still, what big corporate practice isn’t? The Directors are Irish; an ethnic minority in their own company. It may sound odd, but it’s first-world immigrants from the EU and beyond (South Africa, Australia, North America, Asia) that are literally redesigning the city and country. And there seems to be a direct correlation between the quality of HKR’s recent design output and their hiring practices of the past few years. We seem to be given great latitude in terms of design. I cannot imagine a single parallel anywhere else. I’ve been at work for less than a week and I am now jointly responsible for a 1000 unit mixed-use master plan housing development in Dublin centre. Believe it or not, this is not a big job for our office. I was told last week that we currently have a backlog of projects. Clients are being put on a waiting list and we just won a massive new contract on Friday with more to come. If I thought that there was a kind of frontier mentality in Calgary, it’s nothing like this. Ireland is truly the new Wild West.

No doubt I’ll be trying to keep my head above water for the foreseeable future, but really, the opportunities are incredible and I am very excited about all of it. I’m looking forward to finding a nice flat, getting settled and establishing a bit of a routine. Once I buy some new running shoes and reassemble my bike, there will be ample opportunities for recreation (the biggest urban park in Europe is located immediately adjacent to our current planning site). There is even a brand new 50m competition pool just outside Dublin City, although admission fees are ridiculous for these kinds of facilities. So, I won’t be spending all my free time drinking Guinness at the local (and many people here seem to do this). I have yet to discover much of Dublin’s arts community, but I have seen interesting listings around town and I am sure that one exists.

The Eurovision Song Contest finals were held this weekend in Kiev and the political importance of this ridiculous reality-TV popular song competition should not be understated. It was a national scandal when Ireland failed to make the final for the first time in years and the winners were personally presented their prize by the new Ukrainian president (of poisoned face fame). Gloria, you’ll be happy to know that Greece won handily against stiff competition from all over eastern and northern Europe. It is quite wonderful to juxtapose this kind of vacuous, American-style culture with, say the 800-year occupation of Ireland by British forces, or the renovation of the truly historic Shelbourne Hotel (currently being undertaken by our office for an international conglomerate), where part of the Republic’s constitution was written earlier last century. It’s a nice change from Toronto anyway, where really we have far too much of the former. And it’s incredible to know that all of this history is accessible just outside my doorstep, or for a handful of euros, by short-haul flight to anywhere in the United Kingdom or on the continent. We are already tentatively planning a trip to southern Spain in August for one of Europe’s premiere summer rock festivals. I’d like to see Scotland pretty soon as well. Dad, the golf courses here look beautiful, but daunting!

I will certainly write with my new address once it is confirmed. Until then I can be reached at the office:

HKR Architects
5 Schoolhouse Lane,
Dublin 2, Ireland

Phone: + 353 (0)1 663 6400
Fax: + 353 (0)1 663 6401
atimms@hkr.ie

or on new mobile number at +353 (0)86 337 1043. However, e-mail is probably the best method of contact since, as before, I will be online virtually all day and the ten minute phone call home I made earlier this week cost me over twenty euros in off-peak hours. I encourage everyone to come and visit once I get my own place. There are direct flights to Ireland, but only in the summer months. Otherwise it’s a cheap flight over from London (Aer Lingus from Heathrow, or Ryan Air from Gatwick), but be warned that although Ryan Air is unbelievably inexpensive, they were the worst flight experience of my life.

For those curious architects among you, a winner was recently announced by U2 and the Dublin Docklands Authority following an international design competition for the band’s new recording studio and landmark residential tower. Arup are engineering the voguish ‘twist’. Check it out at: http://www.irish-architecture.com/unbuilt_ireland/dublin/u2_tower/bdacha/index.html.
It’s funny, U2 seems to own half of Dublin.

_0 Eire landed.

2005-05-15T20:11:00.000+01:00

There is more and better to come... Be patient, my invisible and make-believe blog buddies.

Told you so.

2005-03-25T22:19:00.000Z

And there He is, rising up in my old hood.

Christ is rising in my bones.

2005-03-25T17:53:00.000Z

And I think eveything is going to be OK.

EWAVEWAV, Part 2.

2005-03-22T02:15:00.000Z

Erickson was a viking. Erickson was a viking.

2005-03-13T05:34:00.001Z

Trees say no to ice-cubes and frolic in the breezy breeze.

2005-03-13T05:16:00.000Z

A cowardly winter. "Screw you".

The infection spreads.

2005-03-13T04:46:00.000Z

Weeping slowly into water, pretty chemicals oxidize, calcify.

AASSAS, Part 2.

2005-03-13T00:01:00.000Z

It makes me feel sexy too.

Airports are so sexy at sunset.

2005-03-12T23:51:00.000Z

Blue.

2005-03-12T22:24:00.000Z

There is no single comparable view in Ontario. Not one.

The islands will sneak by, if you're not careful.

2005-03-12T21:58:00.000Z

Damn sneaky islands.

(Untitled Post)

2005-03-12T21:39:00.000Z

So the water is good too.

2005-03-09T18:33:00.000Z

Cloud-eating technology blurs in peripheral vision.

2005-03-09T18:21:00.000Z

And then it disappeared forever.

(Untitled Post)

2005-03-09T16:28:00.000Z

Anger creeps back occasionally.

2005-03-08T23:43:00.000Z

Able-bodied shadows looking for gainful employment as continuity stand-in for product placement products. Will work for food.

Anagrams to live by.

2005-03-08T23:32:00.000Z

Big penis kelp evidently feel at home on scores of little denuded boulders.