I enjoyed writing that two-part post about Betting on Zero. This could be the future of Squaremeat: documentary reviews!
I recently sat through another documentary featuring a billionaire. Either we have so many of them, or billionaires are worth documenting on film. The appeal of writing about documentaries is that they welcome a barrage of opinions, and I could opine the heck out of American Factory. This film may warrant another 1000+ word post. For today, however, I’ll make proper use of this blog and document my life in this fair city.
At work, someone who isn’t me quit. This means my hours are ramping up. The mechanic who quit did so for a new job, so it’s good news all around, except for maybe the cats. This means I’m going to have less time to write about people not making money while also not making money myself.
I’ll have the funds again for my incoming bike. At the start of October, I put in a deposit for a custom frame by Horse, which had an impressively short build queue of 8-weeks. As my hours started dwindling after that, I began to wonder whether I had made a bad decision, buying a bike I could no longer afford. Now, it’s been more than 20 weeks since I’ve put in that deposit. According to the frame builder, there are five others ahead of me in the queue. This delay’s been a boon, but I do hope to have my Horse in time for the summer!
I’ve been waiting for summer since last September. Yann and I both agree that the constant rain here in Victoria is better than the freezing wasteland that Montréal turns into during wintertime. Yes, even though it rained an ungodly 262mm in January.
As Derek Zoolander once said, “Moisture is the essence of wetness, and wetness is the essence of beauty.”
Yep, we have cherry blossoms. I mean, I spied with my oversized eye, a tree with cherry blossoms back at the beginning of December, but that was a one-off sighting. Unsurprisingly, my neighbours have been spoiling the beauty by carrying on the time-honoured custom of littering the boulevards with what they think qualifies as donations.
Surely these freebies wouldn’t go unappreciated by frizzy-haired Victorians? If you don’t even have hair, don’t worry your pretty little bald head because people here donate wigs too:
What’s with Victorians feeling so guilty about putting things in actual trash bins that they’d sooner litter the boulevards? I’ll have to make sure this strange habit is accurately represented in the next hand-drawn postcard I mail out.