Tonight I bore horrific witness to the teeming throngs of punks, drunks and skunks that attended the Symphony of Light or Celebration of Fire or whatever the hell it is that they call it, and indeed I was one of them (slightly punkish, slightly skunkish, and only drunk with rage).
The fireworks were pretty impressive – but nothing like the fireworks in my heart every moment of every day. It was like they took my 1997 screen saver and put it in the sky (and indeed it should happen every time that the sky is inactive for five minutes). The music was pretty awful but they did play Queen’s “Who Wants to Live Forever” which led to a quick critique of the Highlander movies that I’m sure annoyed everyone around us. But that’s okay because they annoyed us. How did they annoy us? Oh my heavens, let me count the ways. No, actually. I won’t because I’ve got to get some sleep tonight. Some of the fireworks looked exactly like a knot of sperm (or school of sperm if you prefer a more traditional incorrect collective noun terminology) which made me ponder how difficult and how cool it would be to try to adapt some PBS sex ed documentary into a fireworks display. I think it would definitely be worth a try. The grandeur! The majesty of gross things going on in my epedidimus written in gunpowder! It’d be poetic and educational, and come on, what better medium can you think of to describe a climax than fireworks? Although I guess if everything’s fireworks then the orgasm kind of loses it’s punch. Moving on….I also thought that the judges should give extra points if the smoke cloud from the fireworks looked like something cool by the end of the display — like a dragon or something. Even if it’s not a point system, throw a couple on there for good measure, like process cheese on a hot apple pie slice.
Afterwards, we (Lani, Selina and I) rode our bikes all the way to Oak & 17th whereat awaited the Gloucester Cafe which is a misnomer because it’s Chinese and it’s a restaurant. Astoundingly, we beat the others who were with us that drove cars (going from the Spanish Banks) although I think we pushed poor Selina too hard. I am going to have to go back to the Gloucester in a few months because they have double boiled essence of frog in some kind of sweet soup, but only available in winter. They also had cylon tea. I asked the surly waitress (I call her “Bright Eyes”) if it was served by a cylon, or if they just dipped a cylon into a vat of boiling water, or what, but she just shot daggers out of her eyes. As you can gather, it’s a pretty crazy joint!
Oh I almost forgot to tell you about my experience at Golden Age Collectibles. Normally I don’t support GAC because there are lots of other comic stores that are way more supportive of the gaming community in Vancouver, but I slipped in to see if they had any Jonny Quest or Dr Who comics. The guy was at the back doing something on a computer so I went back and said “I am looking for a couple of obscure comics…” and I gave a pause so that he could finish whatever he was doing and give me his full attention. He took the opportunity instead to reply rather curtly in typical sarcastic Comic Shop Guy mien, “…and do these comics have titles?” Holy lost customer, Batman! Who took your corn flakes out of the acid-free polybag and pissed in them? I politely ran off the titles and then politely left the shop, vowing to blog about my experience for all to politely read. And that brings us to this picture of a Yithian that I drew:
I discovered that flourescent orange ink on red paper makes a very interesting highlighting effect. Unfortunately it doesn’t translate well through the scan, since you can’t see the flourescence or the orangence, so you’ll just have to trust me. Would I lie to you about something so important?