Pickin' up a passenger in every town,
Wonderin' if he's ever gonna shoot you down.
Lookin' for a pal,
ain't it a pity,
Lookin' for a gal,
needn't be pretty
If she'll ride on the Wagon Train.
Yeah, I am old enough to have watched Wagon Train on television when I was a wee lad. I liked westerns back then. Still do, kind of.
Looking at the lyrics, I realised one thing hasn't changed.
Gotta watch those hitch hikers.
Sometimes brass is just right for a nice blond oak. It is almost part of the wood. The are in a symbiotic relationship. It is such a close union that they become one. One piece. Neither is superior to the other.
Could be a lesson there somewhere.
Quite unlike you average superhero, I am feeling slightly groggy at the moment. I know the problem. I have not been getting enough exercise recently. When it comes to exercise, I always procrastinate. It is my promise to myself to fix that.
Starting tomorrow.
As KC and the Sunshine Band put it so poetically,
"Shake, shake, shake - shake, shake, shake
Shake your booty, shake your booty."
I saw this boot in a parking lot. It seems to be one of the never ending supply of discarded clothing that nearly covers the city. Last week I even saw a brand new pair of men's name brand underwear with the pack.
The obvious question is, of course 'Who leaves all that stuff?'
The other question is 'When dd people start leaving their clothing laying about?' In Medieval England were there discarded bits of chain mail laying about. Maybe a chastity belt hanging on a fence with a set of lock picks also carelessly discarded.
I also wonder about nudist colonies. What do those people leave?
I was looking at the sign for the Iron Horse Pub with its "Pub by Day - Club by Night" slogan and it struck me that it is very much like being a super hero. A secret identity (except it is not so much of a secret).
Maybe I should try that. A secret identity. Or rather - is there a secret super hero trapped inside me fighting to get out?
I am Limping Man. Prowling the streets with a sore foot seeking justice for the other people who limp.
I am Blinking Man. Sore dry eyes that distract people while I do something stupendous.
I am Boring Man. I put the evil-doers to sleep and then slink off into the darkness of night.
Or rather into the light of day because no more night shifts for me.
I was at the Court House today and there is the queue with a sign for Civil Enquiries."
I looked but saw no sign for uncivil enquiries. Perhaps they are in the cellar. Or maybe there is a rear entrance.
I could take no photographs because it is forbidden. Imagine breaking the law in a courthouse.
That would be a twist.
I read somewhere that freedom is self-determinance; it is the condition of minimal constraint. I have found some freedom.
In January I resigned from my job. I was then convinced to un-resigned and retired instead.
Today, due to new information, I un-retired and re-resigned.
This time it is final. Complete. No going back. The ties are cut. There are many reasons for this. You don't really need to know all this but the point is that I have freedom in my life.
The photo is one that I shot today as I left the evil empire for the final time.
Yes, sunshine is medicine. It felt so nice on the face.
The snow is melting. That is good for the spirit.
Went walking to Goat Island today. It is in the middle of the Fraser River but with the low water level and the ice it was a nice little walk.
And warm.
It was the first time that I have set foot on the island. Could very well be my last because, honestly, it was not that interesting. But it was a nice walk.
It's true that I have an iPod. And I love it.
It plays through my car stereo while I drive so when I put it on shuffle it is like having a radio station that plays only the music that I like. Over 2000 songs on it and when I come across one that doesn't thrill me I can remove it.
Just driving with my tunes.
Nice.
I guess it is just a bad week but I am feeling frayed. I guess it is just one of those weeks that every person goes through.
I need revitalisation.
Before Idrop the rest of my petals.
I went for a good warm weather walk with my camera today. Shot some pictures (not this one) and found myself long for spring once again.
I am lacking patience this month. Winter seems like an untenable that refuses to die.
The easy solution, as spring refuses to come here, is to travel to spring.
It is a tempting proposition.
Everybody needs an office of some sort. Inspector Ken appears to have one but it is a trifle rusty.
Every city needs a human statue. Some guy (or gal) who just stands around with people staring waiting for the slightest twitch.
Of course if you tried that during a Central British Columbia winter (or most parts of Canada or a great part of the empire to the south of us) then you might end up twitchless until spring.
I don't know why but I love chipped paint. I really like it when it is on rusting metal like this pipe handrail.
The paint kind of defeats its purpose as a handrail. After all, who would run a hand along that and risk getting impaled on a jagged chip of paint?
Looks nice but the functionality is lost.
Once upon a time there was a pagan holiday called Lupercalia. My extensive research has taught me that The Lupercalia was celebrated on the fifteenth day before the kalends of March (February 15th). I also learned that Lupercalia was an ancient Roman fertility festival.
Some time in the 3rd century it was decided that two Christian martyrs should be celebrated. Both were named St. Valentine.
One of the saints was a priest and doctor who was beaten and beheaded while on the Flaminian Way, Rome, Italy in the year 269. A year later, the Bishop of Terni met the same fate in the same place.
Maybe every store-front should have s simple graphic advertising the contents of the store. Books store just have the picture of a book. Grocery stores have the picture of fresh vegetables. Restaurants can have a plate of food.
Of course, as this photo shows, here you can see naked women in high heels.
There are some rules to getting a ride when you are hitching a ride.
First, before you even think about the ride, you should wear comfortable footwear because you might be doing some walking. After all, hike is part of the equation.
A pleasant smile so that we know that if you are an axe murderer you enjoy your work. There is nothing worse than picking up a crabby murderer.
Wear a sexy skirt. A little knee can have a driver hitting the brakes.
Every place on earth seems to be famous for something. Mackenzie B.C. has the World's Largest Tree Crusher. Of course it is doing nothing. Sitting there.
Maybe it is ready for action. I don't know.
It is big.
Need any trees crushed?
I am not really as appreciative of flowers as many people are but at this time of year I do miss them.
I miss the colour.
I miss the sounds of the bugs attracted to them.
I miss photographing them.
I had a nothing day. Read. Listened to music. Basically sat around on my butt drooping.
Is that bad?
I feel like I need someone cheering for me but I guess I can settle for dead trees.
"Yeah, way to go. Yippee. Right on."
What would a tree say to bolster one's spirit?
Why do people have watch dogs? Why not some other animal. Junk yard elephants could wander the scrap yards ensuring that no-one steals bits of trash. Or a watch goose could patrol your home. There is absolutely nothing as likely to intimidate as a honking goose with bone crushing wings bearing down on you.
Personally, I am afraid of mice. I would never break into a house with a watch mouse.
Some people just look good with bangles. Some people look good with colours other than denim blue.
I am not one of them.
I keep trying to wear pants that are other than denim but feel almost embarrassed to be out in public. And to wear something other than a t-shirt or sweatshirt is almost as bad.
I guess I will never be a model.
Music can be very hot work. You see a close-up of someone working at their art and you see that it is indeed work.
Sweat may not look sexy but the sound that comes with it can be.
Have you ever thought about how your personality would be different if you had a different name? Does Bond . . James Bond ever feel so much stress that he just wants to go back to bed? If that was your name would you suddenly feel bolder? More daring?
Or maybe you are having a little trouble threading a needle and you were suddenly called Harry Potter would it make a difference?
Or is Shakespeare correct?
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet.
Would you still want to crawl into bed if you were Bond . . . James Bond?
It is a sloppy paint job but I like the brush strokes inside the BSA letters. Whoever did it was not so anal as I because I would have have the lines of the screws line up. Used to do that with light switch plates. Have the screws all point in the same direction.
I like the vibrant colour.
I saw this ladder which goes from one level of a mall roof to the next. At the top of the ladder is a fence with locked gate.
The thing is the fence is only about three feet high. Enough to discourage but not high enough to prevent.
Or is it high enough for insurance purposes?
