"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

second degree burns are like hickeys, right?

here are some photos, provided by my good mate ali, taken last month at my reading at the Descant launch. i think the shoes make the outfit…

so i went to NYC this past weekend to visit friends. american passport control was a nightmare. first of all, canadians never used to need a passport to get into the states. we never even needed to show ID! we’d just float across the border. now everyone’s all paranoid and we need fricken passports, it’s ridiculous.

anyway, we had to get off the coach bus at passport control, and the officer asks me what i’m doing in the states.

“visiting friends,” i say.

“how are they your friends?”

“uh. what?”

“how are they your friends?”

“uh, because they’re my friends.” i mean really, what kind of dumbass question is that?!

“well if they live in the states and you live in canada, how can they be your friends?”

i’m sorry, are people not allowed to make friends beyond borders anymore?and my friends aren’t even american either!!! they just live there!

“uh, well, we met in london.”

“you were travelling abroad?”

“no i used to live in london.” see that big fricken UK visa in my passport which you’re staring at right now? it allows people to live places. can you say veeee-saaahhh?

“how long did you live in london for?”

“2 years.” like it blatantly says in my veeee-saaahhh. veeee-saaaahhh.

okay, so some of you might think this is standard for passport control, but you know what canadian customs asked me when i returned here?

“how long were you in the states?”

“just a couple of days.”

“what were you doing there?”

“visiting friends.”

“okay, thanks.”

see! now that’s an efficient customs officer.

ANYWAY, while in NYC with my mates, we ate at these really cool posh resto’s near union square (where we were staying in this awesome big new york loft); went jogging along the waterfront (7 miles! my body officially hated me after that); saw Bruno (talking urethra’s rule); went bike riding around the city, across the brooklyn bridge, through williamsburg, and back across the williamsburg bridge (my ass hurts); had a party on a super high rooftop that overlooked all of the city with a bunch of really cool aussies with neato names like digsby, tully, quags, dooley (or something like that); watched kids breakdancing and poppin’ wheelies in union square; saw Public Enemies (marion cotillard=best actress ever), and took an inordinate amount of naps during the day!

but the icing on the cake came on the morning i was leaving NYC. i won’t say what i was doing, but here’s the damage:


the pain isn’t much. they were totally worth it.


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