New Bag...
Made in Bolivia, out of real Llama Skin. They spell it "Lama" but I know better, I mean, I found it in Nelson. And - while not EXACTLY what I wanted, it's close enough, and having canvassed and searched a dozen thrift shops in Vancouver, and a couple of others in Edmonton, this will be the bag.
Thrift shops, Nelson, terrific, have missed them greatly. Vancouver thrift shops are mighty fine too, merely exorbitant - and I didn't find a bag.
Now there's an awful lot more treasures to be searched for...
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Aussie Gold
Christmas at my fathers, the first night, TV - The Star Wars Trilogy. The digital Lucas-remix, infinitely inferior to the original.
The second night, the John Wick Trilogy - by the third episode really more occasional commercials for "Parabellum" intermixed amongst commercials for any number of other products. Glad I watched the movie in theatres, because if I was trying to watch it on HBO I would have been immensely discouraged.
And, night 3 - AHA - found it - my own particular brand of drivel - "Aussie Gold Hunters".
I didn't know this existed, but - I could have predicted it.
These shows, they're terrible, scripted "Drama", predictable outcomes, the big draw I suspect is that - even if you've never found anything in your life, not even a missing sock from your dryer, you know you could do better than this.
"Don't pick that up mate, you'll hurt your back, look for something a little smaller" and "..."Goldzilla", reality "stars", never the best or the brightest - not only by design (adds in the 'drama' and 'human interest' - and, really, if you were in the least successful or competent why on earth would you consent to being followed about with a camera crew?), their scripted lame-ass 'dreams' and 'targets', it confirms my every prejudice about Australia, my new favorite...
And after that, 3 more shows that have the exact same formula, "Bering Sea Gold" and "Aussie Opal Hunters". I still don't need a T.V., although this helps to make the plan for the summer months...
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Cambie & Marine Drive
I don't know why, file this under another of my mislaid memories. Monday, off thrifting, South Vancouver. I start on the Canada Line, ride down to Cambie and Marine Drive.
Now this haunts me - I can't figure it out, but that phrase - that intersection - has been with me since childhood. And since this is the start of my thrifting tour get out and check it out.
Nada. No memory cues or clues whatsoever.
I don't know why, perhaps - as a child, decades ago, I obsessed over a magic store located nearby. That's the only reason I can think. And here, in Edmonton, I asked my father, he has no recollection either. So - that must be it - if ever I was here it didn't make much of an impression, unremarkable in every respect, but a good jumping off point to begin a fine day of thrifting, during which I found 2 pairs of cufflinks for the boy (one, theatre, silver masks of comedy/tragedy, appropriate, the other a "SWANK" pair of female buddha's - TARA - arm outstretched in a blessing, silver again, huge, vintage 60's or early 70's, maybe an inch across, masterpieces, need only to find him a fitted lotus dress shirt with French cuffs and he'll be set... other finds, books, shirts, countless others left behind - it was a great thrifting day.
And still I wonder what once was at "Cambie & Marine Drive".
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Vancouver to Edmonton
So a couple of days away from work - I'll come back to that in another post - and I'm ready to head to Edmonton for Xmas. It's been a long time. And my flight - a WestJet ticket out of Abbottsford, I'm regretting the "deal" - (!!NOT) I got on the ticket when I realize I have to spend another $50.00 and 2 hours on the bus.
Meh. The day is largely given over to travel, a few trifles before I leave, I'd planned to get some 'shrooms from one of the dispensaries around town, but they're too obviously packaged, there's no subtlety whatsoever. I compromise and get myself a gram of "African Goliath", fill in the required "Medical Disclosures" - essentially for medical reasons & not recreation - and far be it for me to enjoy myself - and I'm off to the Station to catch my discounted flight ($650? TO Edmonton? Are you PAYING ME BECAUSE IF YOU ARE $650 ISN"T FUCKING ENOUGH!!!!)
But nope...
Anyways, a rainy day, waiting to get on the bus and then waiting to get on my flight to Edmonton and then waiting to land in Edmonton...
Only, get to Abbotsford and I can't seem to find my flight. Where's my flight? Chill. Don't worry. Notice that I'm not commenting on the Abbottsford International Airport - or countless hectares of rainy parking lot, filled to the brim with cars. I mean...
Another time...
So, can't see my flight, wait for the "Departures" screen to clear and load the next screen. Grab a coke, Grab some twizzlers, wait. Go for a smoke. Wait.
And, weird, it's like - this Abbottsford International Airport - the "Departures" screen doesn't update...
And checking my ticket - trying to find what's up, searching for it, for the flight, and -....
FUCK I'm departing VANCOUVER. YVR. "WHERE IS YVR??" I ask someone - but, maybe, not "asked" so much as pleaded or shouted and shook them in a panicked and insane realization...
Then a mad dash into the rainy evening again and hail a $200 cab into the Vancouver International Airport.
$250 spent on the nighttime tour of Abbottsford. Burn it down I say.
And how - how exactly - did I come to understand I was leaving from Abbottsford? I have no clue, only that from the moment I booked my ticket I was 100% sure I was leaving through Abbottsford, and - take this as a lesson for life - 99% of our certainties are most certainly wrong. Hang on to only 1 % - let the rest go - because - well, you need an anchor someplace or you'll go insane - and when you've found new certainties let the old anchor go as well and drop a new one in better harbors.
So, finally, 5 hours and $250 later and I'm at YBR, smoking, getting ready to get on my flight, take my "African Goliath" mushroom - 1 gram, a microdose, and head through security.
Chatting with the daughter, who tells me not to grab a glass of wine inside - "It's OverPRICED" she tells me, and - this microdose - whew - wow- the colors are great and I'm feeling the release of waves of anxiety and I'm gonna grab a glass of wine, even if it is overpriced. And - it is. $24.00 for a glass of what I was pretty sure was Jackson Triggs. $24.00 and tip option on the machine that starts: "18 - 20 - 25%", and - fucking hell, I don't have to say it. She should have told me the price, not that it was "OverPriced", maybe phrased it more as "Would you prefer a Jeep or this Glass of Wine", at which case I would have made a better decision...
This takes my mushroom glow off in a hurry, but it comes back when I wander away from the bar and eat a chocolate bar. Also overpriced but not $24.00 overpriced. Fucking amazing.
And - definitely not a tripping dose, but a hell of a lot more than a microdose.
Finally, plane is late, board plane, cram-packed, full to the brim, a late departure - but a mere hour and 7 minutes to Edmonton. I mean the flight. The whole fucking journey, well, that was an Odyssey, an ordeal, but it seems I can't go anywhere lately without it turning into a shit-show of one sort or another, so - relative to all other adventures this ones a trifle, I'm glad I'm here, warm, and a few days away to pray the weather relents before I head down to Nelson.
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