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I have decided, after a retardedly long dry-spell, to once again update my electronic journal. Let's do this ( Read more... )

http://www.seekjapan.jp/article-1/767/The+Suicide+Woods+of+Mt.+Fuji

I don't care how much money it costs. I don't care if it puts me out on the street for a week. I don't care if I have to go three days without food. I don't care if I have to work that day, at the threat of getting me fired. On Sunday, September 2nd, I will see Gogol Bordello at Richards on Richards. So help me God.

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My new man-crush.

Tabagi St. Laurent is small. Very small. Half the length of my parents' closet, and just as wide. As soon as you enter the door, lighters to your sides. At the counter, cigars to your left and right. Behind the counter is a tapestry of classic labels and cancerous lungs, guarded by a young woman, skinny with a blonde mohawk, matching red booty ( Read more... )

Schwartz's is small. The tables are full and the line reaches the door. We are rushed past surly patrons waiting for take out, and sat down next to three Punjabi women. In the midst of devouring the gigantic stack of smoked beef that this place is famous for, it comes to our attention that the man who played Azamat, Borat's corpulent manager, is at ( Read more... )

Montreal is hot. And french.

That is all.

"Oh I been in prisons all over this land. Oak Park Hill. Devil's Slide. Even old Big Blue. Food was best at Big Blue ( Read more... )

In one of Cowichan High School's myriad computer labs. The entrance to this particular annex consists of a makeshift tunnel, perched on Biblically old pillars several meters above the ground, followed by a depressing, graffiti laden descent into the very bowels of the school. The first thing one notices is a peculiar stench that arises from god ( Read more... )