Try out the new blog!

Peep this mofos: www.oliveronearth.blogspot.com

Au revoir (and not goodbye)

Well, it's been four and a half years in Calgary. I never thought it would be so long, and now I'm leaving for Vancouver. I guess I'll have to re-name my blog, and work on posting on a weekly basis. I promise I'll try!

Thanks Calgary, you have been really good to me. I've made life-long friends here. I've matured and grown. I feel sad right now.

Stay tuned for for more from the coast!

Au revoir Calgary.

Now that Richard Bradshaw is dead, I'm grateful to have seen Wagner's Ring Cycle at the new Opera House before he died. I say Bravo! Mr. Bradshaw.

http://www.cbc.ca/arts/features/opera/ring.html

Workin' the Spice Souk

Men With Plans #1

copyright graft 2008

Idea

Self analysis is luxury.

Just the facts please M'am.

This input really makes me want to write. Green characters on a black background. There are less distractions and I feel like I could write anything I want, with impunity!

I need to focus my thoughts when I write. My tendency is to be efficient and short, to a fault. I feel like I do not have the patience for writing. However I send many emails every day, and I take care when I write them. Writing emails to me feels like technical writing. I'm good at it. Writing prose is my challenge today.

This will be my first real blog post is a long time. I thought for a while that I could present myself with only pictures. Why am I writing again now after so long? I don't know the answer to that question, but writing seems comfortable today.

I said "prose". Here is poetry instead.

PROSE
By Oliver Armstrong

This is hardly prose I suppose.

That's the first poem I've written in years! And it only took me seconds!

I turned 31 a few days ago. I feel good about my age. I wonder sometimes if I was always 31... like when I was 11 years old I was a 31 year old trapped in an 11 year old's body. I've heard it said that every person has a real age and a "natural" age. Like when a 35 year old feels young enough to run in the rain, and clap their hands, and act goofy and naive like a 17 year old. Or when someone's 8 year old daughter says something very sensible and wise, like she would if she were 64.

Other people's perceptions of age are fascinating to me. I notice it especially when I talk about guys I like, who are usually younger than me. Believe me, if I hear "Wow, you like him? But he's so young!" one more time, I'm going to... well I don't know what I'm going to do.

Nothing I suppose, except say "Yeah, I guess, but that doesn't bother me."

Lately I've come to understand that attraction, instant attraction to another person, is often a two way street. It's called the "electric current of attraction". What I take that to describe are the intangible vibes that seem to cross through space between you and the person that you are cruising. The person that is the entire focus of your attention for that moment, however brief. The other person may be looking back at you. You may nod, or smile. They may smile back, or whisper to their friend. But for a moment, there was a connection. It wasn't electricity or radio waves, or infra-red. It was the beautiful body language that humans have developed over millennia on this planet. It was flirting, communication, an involuntary response or maybe even a little show. When you detect that a connection has been made with another person, your body and your brain take over. A little shot of endorphin there, a little pulse of past memory bursts in your cerebral cortex. You record everything. Scent, lighting, how you are feeling about yourself and your surrounds. You and the other person have sent messages to each other, and that message is curiosity, self expression and yes, attraction.

And now that you've experienced this moment, what do you do next?

Feral!

This animal just got back from 4 days in Algonquin Park at Camp Feral! 2008. It's a convention for Furries at the beautiful Camp Arowhon. It was four days of meeting new (and often fascinating) people, canoeing, drinking, leather working, fur tail making and dancing dancing dancing.

If you want to know more then you'll have to take me out for beer, cause that would be best. Here are a couple of photos from the 700+ that I took.

A boy and his dog. Actually a kanga-wuff and his dog.


The wonderful Wily returning a serve.

Furries in love... truly.




A little mountain boarding just to keep the number of injuries up at a reasonable level.

At the forge.

Two pictures in May

This one was taken by Craig.

This is Daiva.

Animals!

More precisely, wolves.

Is humanitarianism a new religion?

Is humanitarianism a new religion?

Hey dude!

The electric current of attraction

I came across this interesting, and optimistic description of sexual attraction. Perhaps this will begin a new chapter in my blog where I post the writings of others that I like.

"But also, you know, people talk about one-sided crushes and unrequited love. In fact, it's been my observation over the years that true attraction is rarely one-sided.

True sexual attraction, if I may be permitted to use an ultra-nerdy simile, is like an electric circuit between two nodes: Both nodes have to be on for it to flow. Everything else is just static. And it's easy to tell static from genuine current. Static's frazzled and weak: no amperage. And it flies off in all directions. "

--

DAVID EDDIE

From Friday's Globe and Mail

April 4, 2008

Name this character:

First snow of the season...

If I Were An Online Quiz

If I Were An Online Quiz I'd be cleverly written, and have some linked advertising in the side panel on the web page.

I'd take about 10 minutes to fill out, and throw in a few cute trick questions like "How do you like it: a) long or b) hard."

If I Were An Online Quiz I'd be written as theme-less filler by some unknown face-less drone. I'd marginally entertain the person who is filling me out, and bore everyone else who chances to read it. I'd be multi-platform, a hyper-fad and first class tripe.

If Marshall McLuhan was aware of me, he'd state: Mud sometimes gives the illusion of depth.

Bin 941

Lyndee and I successfully landed in Vancouver this afternoon. We checked into the 100 year old Sylvia Hotel, and less than an hour later were belly up at the bar, chatting up cute bartender Mike. The goal?... to source out his best recommendation for dinner. A short rainy walk later, and we were at Bin 941. We grudgingly took the worst seats in the house. And by worst, I mean best... we were at the kitchen bar. Two cooks, one at the grill, one in the lead. Incredible. Above is a photo of our brie with pears.



Duck, with potatoes, cheese, bacon and frisee, and an indesribable sauce with some kind of dried fruit.


Lyndee assembling desert.


The two men that made our day.

...

Life in a box

My brain is mush... I had this whole theme of "life in a box" that I was gonna write about, but nothing made sense. The festival is over now, two nights ago was the last day and the party in the desert. Now comes the inevitable post-festival blahs... excitement of going home combined with the slight depression of the big event being all over. We're leaving behind friends, old and new.

Let me see if there are some photos that are interesting.

We all loved feeding these camels in the sand lot across from our hotel. They would eat old bananas and oranges and stuff. It was a bit surreal to see these two bedouin guys living in this old tent in the sand and tending these camels just meters away from ultra-modern apartment towers and construction sites.

The party in the desert was also an awards ceremony for the Arabic Film Competition. It was at this resort built into the dunes. The show was good, the food was nice, but there was no shisha!

More later, when my head is clearer and... stuff.

Oh wait, get this:

It finally happened...

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