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Wednesday Wadio: Stan Rogers’ ‘Barrett’s Privateers’


in Canadiana, Musical, Wednesday Wadio

“God damn them all! I was told, we’d cruise the seas for American goldstan-rogers
We’d fire no guns! Shed no tears!
But I’m a broken man on a Halifax pier
The last of Barrett’s Privateers”

– Stan Rogers’ Barrett’s Privateers

Jonothan Richman came to Guelph in 1994 and I went to see him at the almighty Albion hotel for what ended up being one of my favorite concerts of all time. The chap who opened up for him, and I wish I could remember his name, did a jaw-dropping acapella version of Stan Roger’s Barrett’s Privateers that will stay with me forever. This incredible song grabbed me by the short and curlies right away, and after hearing it in the car the other day on one of my Dad’s CDs I knew I had to write about it. Every version of this song is acapella, actually, as that is how Rogers intended it, and here is a very grainy video of him singing it around a kitchen table from a documentary entitled One Warm Line which you can watch in its entirety by clicking the link.

Rogers was killed in an airliner fire on June 2, 1983 when he was exactly my age, 34 years young. There are unsubstantiated claims that he made it off of the Air Canada flight on the ground in Cincinnati but succumbed to smoke inhalation after going back in to rescue other passengers. Like that story, Rogers’ music immediately gets under your skin and if you’re Canadian the subject matter – primarily ye olde maritime sailing culture based – is uniquely of this country and stands to provide a wonderful history lesson. I had no idea, for example, that there was such a thing as a Canadian pirate which is a loose way to describe Privateers. But I’m not going to regurgitate everything I’ve just read. You won’t find a better explication of the song and the history behind it than Dan Conlin’s:

“There was no Elcid Barrett. There was no Antelope sloop and there wasn’t even a town of Sherbrooke in the year of 1778. Stan Rogers basically made up an imaginary privateer to carry a 60s anti-war theme in a traditional folk setting. Having said all that, many of the details, ranging from the type of cannons mentioned to the letter of marque reference, are very authentic.”

Back in the golden years of sailing, once you were on a ship you were on a ship, and as part of the crew you were doomed to follow orders and obey regardless of how you felt about missions that were called on the go – lest you walked the plank or spent the rest of the long voyage eating rats in the hold. And many ‘conscripts’ were downright lied to about their intended purpose. Barrett’s Privateers tells the story of a naive young Nova Scotian who boarded a ship under the promise they would fly under a legal English charter (letter of marque) and inconvenience the burgeoning American navy by by stealing cargo. But Barrett had other ideas, and the song goes on to describe the mental anguish felt by the ‘broken’ protagonist when he finally makes it back to his Halifax pier.

The song is available for purchase on Amazon, and I encourage anyone who owns an album by the Decemberists to check out the late, great Stan Rogers in greater detail. There is also a Facebook petition devoted to getting Stan a star on the Canadian walk of fame and it’s good to see I’m not the only “younger” Canuck spreading the word about this great musician and his ongoing influence.

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Shepherd 2: Electric Boogaloo


in Animalistic, Heartwarming

Folks – your IMs, texts and emails in the 2 days since I posted the short blurb about my mother’s illness and Shepherd’s death pulled me right out of the doldrummy tailspin and I am forever grateful. Janet and I arrived in Florida Wednesday and spent the night in my parent’s trailer park, the residents of which are some of the nicest, most caring people I’ve ever met. I now know why coming down here was so important to my mother, although we’re still pushing for this to be the last year. As we sat around the fire enjoying a pot luck dinner in our honor, Janet and I were frequently pulled aside and given one-on-one insights (I guess you could call them) from their many 5th wheel residing buddies. Yesterday we met both of our parent’s doctors during separate appointments on opposite sides of Melbourne and that left us feeling better as well. My Dad in particular has an amazing doctor, social worker and nurse in his corner. Combined the last two days have provided us with some optimism and comfort, not to mention the nice messages from all of y’all.

Shepherd 2.0

As we drank multiple 1.5 liter bottles of white wine and ate friend chicken around a roaring propane blaze surrounded in turn by RVs and cats on leashes, I got a text message from my breeder. She informed me she’d located another young litter in our area and asked if I wanted her to look into it. She was devastated by the loss of the puppies and I really appreciate the way she sucked it up and tracked down another option for myself and some of the other disappointed families via her network of peers. I immediately got in touch with the backup breeder via BlackBerry and a few minutes later I had photos. After some more back and forth regarding family history, bloodlines, the size of the parents and finally price I had dibs on the only male in a litter of 8 born just one week after Shepherd and his unfortunate departed siblings.

Perhaps caught up in the heat of the moment, my sister told me to inform the breeder she wanted a female from the same litter too! So in one Chardonnay and grease soaked evening, which began as a very somber and morose affair indeed, we’d resurrected not only the notion of Shepherd Pye but found him a sister to boot! Janet will be getting photos of the remaining females after one other family takes first pick of the 7 little girls, but those are still great odds – and how much can you tell from a photo of a week old puppy anyway? It’s really all about the raising and the training. This is a photo of Shepherd 2.0 who greatly resembles the original in both size, coloring and genetics. I will post photos of the already named Pumpkin Pye as soon as Janet chooses her. Sometimes things go from bad to worse… and then backwards a few notches to “cool”. Punky and Shep will not be stopped!

Update: Janet has decided to name her dog Rhubarb Pye – “Ruby” for short.

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Meet Shepherd Pye


in Animalistic, Heartwarming

My little, hairy bundle of joy was delivered yesterday to his proud parents Pixie and Oscar. I had first pick of the litter and I chose Shepherd Pye, or ‘Puppy C’ as he was formerly known, based on his classic Boston Terrier markings. The breeder herself said that if she was going to keep one of the litter for herself, Shep would have been the one. All of the puppies are cute, don’t get me wrong, but if you’re going to pay the purebred price you want the animal with the best stud value, etc. Click here for a photo of proud little Pixie and her litter, and here’s the wee man of the hour himself.

Boston Terrier Puppy

I’ll be picking Shepherd up around the 14th of February and am allowed to go and visit him as of January 23rd (7 weeks from now). It’ll be a long wait, as the breeder is just down the road from me, but she is very serious about protecting the puppies from diseases and meeting too many new people before they’re of a very specific age. As this is my first dog, and I’m only half way through the first of several dog books I’ve collected leading up to this, I will defer to her in all matters of dogginess. Wow – this is really happening.

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Friday’s Quizzlet and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull


in Friday's Quizzlet

Appetizer: When was the last time you visited a hospital?
I have been to my Grandmother’s nursing home many times over the summer which is quite like a hospital. In the last 12 months I’ve also broken and split my nose (December) and sliced my eyeball (June) so I’m no stranger to the real deal, either. Check back with me in a month when I’m due to have absentmindedly removed my right testicle with a dull soup spoon.

Soup: On a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being highest, how ambitious are you?
I’m a 10 – in the sense that I want a jetski, I want an apartment in Toronto, I want a castle in Scotland – it’s doing anything about it that’s the problem. Like working in the middle of a weekday instead of writing in your blog, for a practical example.

Salad: Make a sentence using the letters of a body part.
Every afternoon Ronald drives ’round Underhill Moor, mullered.

Main Course: If you were to start a club, what would the subject matter and name be?
I have been invited by my dog breeder to join the Ottawa Boston Terrier club. I’m seriously considering it, and I reckon that will take up all of my free club time for the foreseeable future. But, if I must answer – You are welcome to visit my Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull group on FaceBook. And then to never speak to me again. I’ll understand.

Dessert: What color is the carpet/flooring in your home?
Way to cut right to the heart of my soul, quizzlet. It’s mostly light hardwood with a few throw rugs… thrown around for good measure. Our house is only 3 years old so it’s still rocking the lovely new planks we laid down when it was built.

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Shepherd Pye: The Beginning


in Animalistic

A few weeks back I prattled on at length about why I’d decided to get a dog. The chewed up, slobber-covered ball is in play, as I visited the breeder at her home in Seeley’s Bay tonight and met the proud parents to be, Oscar and Pixie, in person.

Pixie, Dave and Oscar

Gord, Bonnie and Cousin Norma came along for the ride and we had a lovely time playing with the 6 Boston Terriers on site and meeting Megan and her family. After a quick sock puppet show from the kids we discussed why I wanted one of the next litter. I must have made a good impression because she emailed me later to tell me I was A-OK in their books and was officially on the coveted list. Pixie spent most of the visit sitting on my lap but made the rounds to make sure everyone got a celebratory lick. OK, 272 celebratory licks. She’s a licker.

Oscar is only 7 months old and already poised as Megan’s next big stud. She drove all the way to Michigan to get him and he apparently comes from famous stock as his grandfather was a well known show dog. So basically Shepherd is practically the Frank Sinatra Junior of the dog world and hasn’t even been conceived yet. You can check out more pictures and even a video if you’re so inclined. Damn, it’s going to be a long 4 months.

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3:10 to Yuma


in Movies

“In hard times, Americans have often turned to the Western to reset their compasses. In very hard times, it takes a very good Western.” – Roger Ebert on 3:10 to Yuma

When discussing quality contemporary westerns, it helps to start with one understanding on which everyone is usually in total agreement: There’s Unforgiven and then there’s everything else. That usually levels the playing field to allow for a more objective look at the Silverados, the Young Guns, the Quick and the Deads and the Tombstones. The new, new westerns however – basically anything after the year 2000, have been few and far between and many have lamented the demise of the genre.

3:10 to Yuma

The hope that “Open Range” seeded in me a few years ago was hammered home last night when I saw 3:10 to Yuma – The Western is not dead. Crowe’s warrior poet and Bale’s hard-luck veteran trade bullets, insults and eventually even smiles over miles of beautiful sets and scenery. The characters of the young son, the railway man, the Pinkerton and Crowe’s bloodthirsty second-in-command take the movie from good to great. It’s a tasty, complicated, human relationship study. Father/son, criminal/family man, husband/wife – there’s even a little one-sided Brokebackesque homoeroticism thrown in for good measure. Fans of the genre, the actors or both (or neither) can love this film. Couple all of that with the best movie poster I think I’ve ever seen (I just ordered it for the Winchester‘s wall) and you’ve got one happy chappy.

Ben Foster, made famous by his creepy turns in Six Feet Under and Hostage really impressed me as Ben Wade’s evil cohort, Charlie Prince. He always struck me as sort of a poor man’s Giovanni Ribisi – but he is outstanding in this film. He’ll definitely be pigeonholed as the go-to weirdo for the majority of his career, but he’ll be leading the pack of go-to weirdos. All psychopaths aside, judging from the increasing numbers of Westerns creeping into the Hollywood schedule I think our compasses will be well configured for a while. Even if they’ve become moral GPS systems.

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Creative Outdoor Teenage Partying.


in Heartwarming, Reminiscent

There’s a Facebook group for my high school town, and someone added a “You Know You’re From Concord When…” thread a while ago. Obviously, the group is predominantly much-younger people, but I was curious and added my own point to the thread. You know you’re from Concord When: “Being told to meet your friends at ‘Eden’, ‘Boonyards’ or ‘Mayflower’ makes perfect sense to you.”

Someone from the class of 2004 emailed me today and asked me to elaborate, so I did. This email is extended a couple paragraphs for the sake of the blog and reprinted with express written permission from… myself.

All three were nicknames we had for secluded outdoor places around Concord where we used to “par-tay”. Eden was along the river and accessible from behind the strip mall just off Lowell road near the center where Stop n Shop used to be. I worked there for a summer until they found out I was Canadian and didn’t have my greencard yet. It’s still a grocery store but has a different name now. There was a narrow path that wound through the underbrush for a bit and came out on a nice public lawn on the riverside with a decent amount of tree cover overhead. You could also walk down to it from the bridge down Lowell road a bit.

Anyway, Eden was a huge cop magnet and we only used it as a last resort when nobody’s parents were out of town. My friend got arrested one night, fully cuffed and stuffed, for peeing on the fire after the po-po told us to put it out. “I don’t care how you do it, but put that fucking fire out!” Well, my pal got a night in the docks and an embarassing Concord Journal Police Log entry for his efforts. The worst part is, the Journal listed the charge as “indecent exposure”, with his real name and age. That could have meant a million different things, and I’m sure his grandparents enjoyed reading it over Sunday breakfast while envisioning him running through a local preschool with his pants around his ankles.

Boonyards was a field that accessible by an overgrown dirt road just over the Bedford town line on Bedford Street that extended out from the Concord center rotary. Technically it’s located on Hanscom airforce base which we learned the hard way one night when soldiers with M16s on jeeps showed up to break up our bonfire. I was off in the dark fiddling with a British exchange student and made an easy escape.

Mayflower was in West Concord technically, and you had to go through the back of Thoreau hills to get to it. I don’t think the police ever found it during my CCHS career, but we accidentally rolled a full keg down into someone’s backyard one enchanted evening. That attracted a lot of attention and I don’t think I ever returned.

Glad I could impart some history on my wee descendants. Concord was a strange place in the early 90’s era. When I got to college in 1992, it bored me to tears. I’ve had this conversation with dozens of my friends who had the same freshman year blues. We’d wonder why people in our dorm got so excited over a lame frat keg party, and the rest of the kids on our floor wouldn’t believe our high school stories. The classes of 89 and 91 especially – we’d already fucking done it all. We kept Mr. Kryple and Ms. DiCicco on antacids – that’s for sure. The outdoor spots were backups, and the tip of the iceberg. Good times.

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Dave Goes To The Dogs.


in Animalistic, Canadiana

I love the Boss. If you know me, you know that. I have been stone cold cat crazy for the last 33 years. But that was by default – my father despises dogs and we were never allowed to have one. After a lot of careful consideration, I have decided to get my own dog. For the first time. It’s a big step. I am a little nervous, but I have made the call and it’s happening. Here are some of my reasons for this canine 180.

– All my friends who own dogs have told me that in order to train, raise and mold a dog with a good personality, you must be able to spend a lot of time with it. I work from home. Perfect.

– Many friends have been concerned because Boston Terriers are known for having health issues – particularly flatulence, heart ailments and breathing. I have discovered that purebred Terriers are usually devoid of the congenital defects, and the flatulence depends completely on diet and can be easily remedied.

– My mother won’t stop reminding me that I have to walk the dog at least 3 times a day, like I’m retarded or something. I will welcome the new structure in my life – especially, again, because I work from home.

Those are the big points I have been mulling. I am very excited at the prospect of having a pet that doesn’t sleep all day. I will be able to take it everywhere with me in the car. It will do tricks. It will protect my house. It will go for runs with me. I am thrilled.

I’d like to mention once more that I have given this a tremendous amount of thought and am definitely not entering into dog ownership lightly. To further hammer this point home, I’m happy to point out that I have found a professional breeder whom I trust and have forwarded all the emails we have exchanged (I ask a lot of questions) to two friends of mine who are very well versed on the subject of dogs (thank you Amy and Rachelle).

I’ve also seen photos of the parents – click here to meet the lovely Pixie Rose and Oscar – and am going to the breeder’s next week to meet the humans involved and the mom and dad to be. My puppy will be born in late December and I’ll be picking up little Shepherd Pye in February. Although he’ll be no feline, I will continue the Pye pet naming convention.

And in case you’re wondering, Boss is very alive, very well and I love him very much. He’s got a good 5 years left in him and I plan to treat him like a little prince until he draws his last breath. It’s just that… circumstances have led me to live in the woods – and it’s doggie time.

Wow. Boss is gonna be so pissed come February.

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Canadian Assimilation.


in Canadiana

My friend Sean called me over the weekend and left a message to the tune of “Have you been eaten by feckin’ bears?” I realized at that point that it was probably time to update anyone who cares. If not, jog on – no one has a potato gun to your head. This blog will return to it’s regularly scheduled dead hooker jokes by the end of the summer.

Operation Bunkhouse is just a few days away from completion, and my place is wide open for visitors anytime in August/September. If you’re a friend of mine, or a well-medicated stalker, you are officially invited to pick a weekend if that’s at all enticing. Come sleep in the silence, relax in the gazebo, soak up some sun, boat your brains out and eat a lot of corn. There is also a vicious rumor that the Pye family likes a drink or two after 5pm.

Life is good, with obvious exceptions. Here are some bullets as it’s been a while since I spoke to any of you at length and there’s a lot to mention…

– We sold Grandma’s house in July and walked out of it for the final time last Monday. There were no tears shed. I now live full time in Portland, Ontario.
– My reasons behind moving here were spun different ways for different people, but the end goal was to live here with my ailing Father and take some of the pressure off of my Mom. For example, she is on a much-needed vacation in Vancouver this week, as I watch the fort/Gordo. He’s a handful, and my social circle consists of loons and squirrels – but he’s my Dad. And that’s that.
– Gord is manageable if you distract him with things he likes to do/eat/watch/drink. “Give me my f**king car keys now!” “Oh look Dad, Fawlty Towers is on!” “It is?”
– As a result, I am picking up golf very quickly. I now understand people’s addiction to it. Gord is still an excellent player, and we’ll be doing a lot of it. My first lesson is in 9 hours.
– 2 sets of clubs fit very nicely in the back of the Charger. Golf is quite a workout and I currently feel like I’ve been dragged behind a truckful of Nazis for several miles.
– On a related note, I am completely unashamed at how happy I am that Karen Allen is going to be in Indy 4.
– While hardly Grifflet substitutes, my little cousins Jakob, Seth, Thomas, Christopher, Alexandra, Darius, Ben and Carter are enjoying having me around more than once a year. Thomas (19) went to a party with me in Toronto and had a great time with my friends. Darius (6) enjoys when I show up with bootleg Spiderman 3 DVDs.
– Janet was up last weekend and we got a TON done on the Bunkhouse and a ton drankended on the Pontoon boat (see galleries).
– I have connected from so many childhood friends via Facebook it is unreal. I recently had dinner at the home of a girl who was my best friend Freshman year of high school and when I walked in the door it was like no time had passed. Quite an amazing summer in terms of friendship rekindling. Best website ever.
– I have a great group of friends back in Toronto (2.5 hours away), mostly from University, who have made me feel very welcome back in the Great White North. When I start to get jumpy for human contact, I have plenty of places to stay back in civilization.
– I now have a boat license.
– According to Janet, who is a hard sell on this topic, my driving skills have returned. She may have been swayed when I deked a hugenormous deer going 80MPH in her new 5-speed Audi.
– TechTarget went public a month ago and I am very glad I bought all the shares I was entitled to when I left to become an international search marketing guru in 2003. Why am I telling all of you? Cause it’s a jetski, baby, and you may get to ride it one day.
– Speaking of watercraft, we have a 50HP pontoon boat with pimpin’ leather couches on it and an iPod-compatible stereo. I remarked to Janet, whilst cruising slowly through Lost Lake with a Rockstar in my lap and the Pixies blaring through the speakers – “This IS heaven on Earth”. Gord kinda likes it when I play Bolero. Bonnie likes it when I forget to bring the iPod.
– I made my first Portland friend Friday night at a bar called the Galley. I can sail there in about 15 minutes and tie up right in front. He’s a local drunk named Dana, and Janet says “keep looking”.
– I run every morning, and combined with the golf I feel amazing and am dropping weight like a Tijuana crack whore. I only drink when we have company and my Peter Pan on cheesecake days are officially over.
– I have decided to live here for the winter in order to save money, continue the health kick and by doing so lower the insurance charges on the house while my folks are in Florida.
– My friend Gooch (see bunkhouse gallery) is going to leave both his snowmobiles here and we’re taking a trip all the way to Montreal on them come winter.
– Gooch and I are building an ice fishing hut.
– I am talking to Boxer and Boston Terrier breeders. I love the Boss, but he sleeps all day and can’t go outside. I need another addition to the Lakehouse herd for my own winter sanity. Otherwise, I’ll be growing a beard, writing a manifesto and sending C4 through the mail to Al Sharpton before the first day of Spring.
– I am turning into an Ottawa-Valley-accented-hilljack-peameal-bacon-eating hick, and I love it.

I will be in Boston the weekend of September 22nd for a wedding. The wedding is in New Hampshire, but I’ll be extending my trip so I have time to visit my Boston peeps. I hope to see some of you then, and Griffin may have to give up her PS2 room for a night or two – which somehow I think she’ll be fine with . The thought of a genuine Harpoon IPA and some North End Pushcart pizza makes me beyond happy.

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Canada Day Debacle.


in Heartwarming

For the long awaited Canada Day 2007, which is like the… 160th anniversary of the day the loyalists grew a pair and declared a Dominion (horribly inaccurate summary), I did a number of very patriotic things. When you live alone in a house for two months, like one of the kids from Flowers in the Attic, having your only sibling and several of your best friends in the same house for a long weekend is a little exciting. Throw in a boat, fireworks, some liquor and the birth of a nation – and we’re talking 6-year-old at Christmas excited. Here are the highlights.

1. Worked on Operation Bunkhouse for exactly 1.5 hours in 4 days.

2. Got so pinted one night that I didn’t get out of bed for the entire next day – again, whilst all my friends whom I was longing to see were here.

3. Continued to aggressively not work on the bunkhouse.

4. Provided one friend with so many patriotic punches to the ribs that he eventually retaliated with a full cup of beer to the lap.

5. Emotionally scarred a 10 month old border collie.

6. Wrote and sang at least 17 new songs whilst liquored, including such nouveau favorites as “Who’s Gonna go to the Truck and get some RedBull?”, an acapella cover of “Jump Around” and the timeless “Who Wants to go to the Gazebo and Have Drinks?”. I believe Sully has extensive video of the wonderful additions to the modern musical canon, so stay tuned.

7. Paid an extortionate amount of money to have satellite internet installed which has gone down about 15 times so far. Lightning has a very negative effect on the weak signal, as do dragonflies farting near the dish I have to assume at this point. The best part is, I got to climb a 24 foot ladder and cut down all the branches on the tree for the guy who installed it. Maybe there’s a voucher in the mail.

My gallery is here, and Sully’s should be up in a few days at which time I’ll add another shameful link. Thanks for making the trip to everyone from Boston and Toronto – it meant a lot to me, and my parents had a great time in spite of me channeling the ghost of Brendan Behan for two evenings straight.

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Searching For Peter Grumme.


in Reminiscent

Once upon a time, if you wanted to find someone you’d lost touch with, you’d hire a private detective. In 2007, the first answer my friends and I came up with for this same task was: “Start a FaceBook Group!” That having been said, where the hell is Peter Grumme – a.k.a. Gummer?

Many people who visit this site won’t have any clue, or give a sweet frickin’ tweet, who Gummer is. Simply put, he’s a diamond geezer whom a lot of people would like to get back in touch with. In the age of FaceBook, and it’s fervent Canadian following, not being able to locate him is extremely frustrating.

I’m writing about this today because there are currently next to no hits in Google for Pete’s name. If he, or someone he knows, performs a related query anytime soon they’ll undoubtedly find this post, the FB group and then – salvation. Come home, little shaggy lamb.

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The Belly Of The Beast.


in Sporty

In the middle of all this “I’m so busy… Waaah – I’m moving internationally, change my drawers” bullshit, I’ve gotten a little ahead of myself. I get daily IMs and emails asking me why I have the fucking audacity to stop writing regularly. So, in spite of the imminent re-imagining of PITF, which is truthfully well underway and even paid for – I will continue to write. I am honored that any frigger still cares.

I am truly in the belly of the beast this eve. Less than 100 miles away lies the Capital city of Canada, my place of birth in 1973, whose Senators hockey team is in the running for the first Canadian Stanley Cup since 1993 – That’s 14 frigging years for anyone keeping score. For comparative purposes, that’s like the USA not being the champion of inventing chewing tobacco for almost 15 years straight. Brutal, I know.

The end of my Grandmother’s street (I am living alone at her house with Boss until it is sold) has “Bring it home to Canada, Sens!” written in children’s street chalk at the intersection. At least 5 out of every cars I pass have a little Sens flag waving out the window. Every time my beloved Uncle John and I meet for a beer, there are pubs full of Senator shirt clad fans everywhere. It’s a typically quiet and reserved Canadian event of incredible importance.

Anaheim is now ahead in the series 3-1 as of 5 minutes ago, and the series is returning Wednesday to California – which isn’t great for the odds. Home ice and one more win and it’s over. But I’ll be watching, and I pray for continued serendipity relating to my move home. Go Sens, and go my bid on a Charger tomorrow in the auction.

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Coming Up For Air.


in

I’ve arrived safe and sound in Canada, and am splitting my time between Burlington and Portland as time and duty allows. I can’t begin to summarize the last 3 weeks properly in the amount of time I have to devote to the blog today, so I’ll instead point you to a couple of FaceBook galleries where I have been uploading and writing captions for all the post-move photos to date. You may choose between a general gallery covering moving, cleaning, garage sales and revelry – or a photo essay documenting phase one of last weekend’s Operation Bunkhouse. Click a photo and scroll through like a sideshow to see the captions. The thumbnails alone aren’t nearly as interesting.

I made a down payment today to my new favorite web designer to thoroughly revamp and re-envision this silly website to which I have grown so attached over the last three years. Reese recently redid my dog sweater site, andf I have the utmost faith in her abilities. So fear not, dear reader (if there any of you left). I shall return with a lukewarm vengeance.

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Out Like Buster Douglas.


in Reminiscent

Spoke to me Mam today about plans for selling G-ma’s house and getting on with our respective lives. So there are no nasty surprises for any of my peeps, real or imagined, I will be among the faithful Boston departed as of May 1st. I’ve been living in the North End for a little over 7 years, and I will always have a soft spot for this neighborhood and this city. But baby, I gots to go.

It’s very bittersweet – not so much the fact that I am leaving Boston and moving to Toronto, but the reasons behind why I feel I have to. That having been said, I am tremendously excited to buy a car, buy my own place, spend time with my family – immediate and extended, and the fact remains that I have a tremendous group of friends up there from my very early high school (pre-1988) and University of Guelph days. It’s not like I’m shipping out to the Falklands.

While we’re sorta on the subject, the timing of Facebook’s very recent explosion into the Canadian market could not be better timed. Everyday I get friend requests from people I haven’t talked to in 10 years. We have a group for the house I lived in at Uni, one for my old dorm Mills Hall and the network keeps growing and growing. It’s all very, very serendipitous.

Before I lose consciousness from masturbating with maple syrup in anticipation, I should point out that my current employer, while allowing me to work remotely in the wilds of the North as much as I need too during this tricky time, also wants me back in Boston a few times a quarter – so I’ll still be seeing everyone in Beantown on the regular. No biggie, for the best.

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