cancon

I downloaded the video for “Strange Days” to show friends here, and I still cry at the end of it.

I’m putting together a CD of late-90s BC-based grunge for a friend. Anyone want to FTP me some Rymes with Orange?

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I went shopping for camp tonight with my guy roomate and my friend K. Costco visits still remind me entirely too much of ACF 12. Only now I’m shopping for seventeen twentysomething campers instead of fifty stage-raisin’, geotek-flyin’, crew members.

I saw challah bread and grinned. Yeh, yeh, CHALLAH!

And, of course, Costcos in the States sell liquor at Blaine-type pricing. Not that I really took much advantage of that, but it’s still tempting to get a liter of Tanqueray for $25 USD.

The living room looks like a cross between ACF hospitality and an Outward Bound expedition. My roomates and I have camping gear all over the place (sleeping pads, sleeping bags, stoves, dishes, cookware). Plus there’s supplies for two days – breakfast, lunch and snacks – piled in the living room. And next to that is two motley cases of beer compiled from leftovers dating back two barbecues. And my $7.99 1.5L bottle of Yellowtail Shiraz.

It’s great to be with a group that is excited about camping for the sake of camping. Camp Whisky was more about just partying out of the city somewhere. Preferably somewhere where there was rock huckin’ to be done. Camp Lollapalooza is as much about the contrast between Los Angeles and the central coast state parks as it is about being out there with friends. We have such a patchwork of friends going that it’s going to be exceptionally cool, because D and I are both firm believers in integrating friend groups as much as possible. I’m sure I’ll have lots of updating to be done on Sunday when I get home.

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I’m listening to Sandbox. “Curious”. This song came out the year I started at UBC. It reminds me so much of being a seventeen year old living in Totem Park, of puddles and rain and the constant grey of campus in winter. It is disorienting to try to connect my memories of UBC with life in Los Angeles a year and a half after graduation. That means it’s time for sleep.