Things have gotten a trifle hairy.

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.

A line drawing featuring a
A postcard I drew and mailed to a friend who’s recently relocated to Vernon, BC.

Continue reading “Things have gotten a trifle hairy.”

The best beast of the island.

Look at this cat, isn’t he incredible?

A grey cat with large pupils stares at the person standing behind the camera from inside a bath tub.

He has chewed the straps of my sports bra in half. Twice. That is incredible.

He has also chewed off and swallowed the knotted end of a hoody drawstring. The knot remained in his belly until he yakked it up three days later. But before his puke revealed what had been wrong with him, his loss of appetite on day one was so disconcerting that Yann and I wasted a hundred dollars on a visit to the vet. Incredible.

Even after this ordeal, he still finds hoody drawstrings irresistible. He’s incredib…ly infuriating.

Aanyway, aren’t these dog ownership-level problems?

Continue reading “The best beast of the island.”

The adoration of Jack Frost.

Many of my posts are inspired by conversations I have with Yann. He’s my one-man test audience. Whenever a horrified look spreads across his face, I think, “Ooh, this is definitely blog-worthy.”

The night I posted about my impending exit from InstaCrap, the bedroom light suddenly switched off. I had angered God (who is now owned by Facebook).

My first thought was that Yann had grown impatient of me treating the bedroom as a makeshift office, and had shut off the light as a way to announce bedtime. This wasn’t rational as it’s not his style. If anything, it’s something I would do.

The glow from my notebook was enough for me to see that Yann wasn’t standing at the bedroom door as expected. I jump to conclusions poorly: the wind had knocked out the power, blacking out our building.

Continue reading “The adoration of Jack Frost.”

The early bird gets the worm, but the late bird gets that bird.

I found a tree with cherry blossoms today.

Tree branches devoid of leaves have blooms of pink cherry blossoms.

Victoria still hasn’t seen a single snowflake. Last night, while Yann and I were outside for our evening toke, feathers snowed on us. Right before that happened, Yann heard a noise and spotted an owl that had perched on the power lines. What about owls’ reputation for being silent predators of the night? The sounds were coming from its latest meal, which was still alive.

Continue reading “The early bird gets the worm, but the late bird gets that bird.”

Red and White Day.

In my former home province of Québec, Montréal residents are pushing couches and fridges up those twisty death trap staircases. In the 4 years I lived in Montréal, I never had to move on what Québécois call Moving Day. There, if you decide on a moving date other than July 1st, you’re responsible for finding a new tenant to take over whatever remains of your lease.

It’s weird, I know.

Continue reading “Red and White Day.”