Whenever I encounter a particularly unpleasant person I generally assume they’re just having a bad day. It’s getting harder to be naive these days. I saw a girl yesterday drop a lighter, and she didn’t notice so I picked it up and approached her.

“Excuse me,” I said, lighter in hand, ready to complete my Good Deed For The Day.

“I have a boyfriend,” said Miss Derisive, her head spinning around like a demon that could never be properly exorcised.

In the spirit of the stairs, I should have marveled at how delighted that boyfriend must be with such a charming lady as she, but instead I put the leopard-print Zippo lighter in my pocket and walked away. Regretfully, of course, because now she must think she was justified, now her presumptuous bitchiness will continue unimpeded until she loses every last thing in her purse.

So it goes?

I made up for yesterday’s missed Good Deed by starting the day off with a zinger. A construction worker waiting for the bus almost forgot his hard hat on the bench. And properly, he just said thank you.

I walked to the edge, looked down, knew I wouldn’t, and jumped anyway.

The last time I dove into water was when I was 8, and even then it wasn’t really diving since I always jumped feet-first. This kind of head-first diving was something from the swimming lessons that I didn’t take because of chronic ear infections. Because of these infections, I never learned how to tread water, and only this past year have I gone swimming when I was at the beach. And with growing confidence, now I can dive into a lake from about a meter up! And not just once, but three times, and dozens of times from lower heights! If I keep this up, soon I won’t even need my water wings!

On a completely different note, one of the points I was trying to really get at with my Comicle called “Patriotism is Relative” was my belief that any two people will always be able to find common ground between them. Sure, you may have to use extreme examples — ie, the comic’s punchline — but it’s possible. I’m not a fan of division, and there are so many ways societies divide themselves, as seen with politics, or sports, or food choices. And of course, some division is necessary in order to stimulate discourse and develop new ideas, but it seems to me like when we attack or defend these differences with hostility, we’re just not being productive. So next time you’re about to get into an argument, start by agreeing that you’re both alive, and go from there.

People are interesting creatures. At a store today, I got into the line behind a man just finishing the process of commerce. A woman standing nearby, clearly upset by my lack of telepathy, cleared her throat.

“Excuse me,” she said derisively, “but I’m in line.”

I turned around, confused because I hadn’t seen anybody there. (I’m not one of those heinous line-cutters, after all.) But there she was, as far removed from the Standard Line Area as she could be, scowling. I looked at where she was, looked back at where the line was, and looked back at her.

“Way over there?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered, destroying villages with her scowl. “This is where the line is.”

I wasn’t especially interested in either arguing or moving, so I stepped aside to let her in since the previous fellow had left. The cashier was printing, stapling, filing, and otherwise just waiting for her, and it’s not like I was in a hurry or anything, but this woman just wasn’t moving, so I told her that she could probably approach the counter now.

“What, are you directing line traffic or something?” (Another village destroyed.)

“No,” I said, “but standing so far back just seems a little absurd.”

She then proceeded to pay for something, put it in her purse, and insist that the cashier didn’t give it to her at all. For context, she was maybe in her late thirties and gave every indication of having lived in the posh part of Vancouver her whole life. We didn’t speak again even though I was very curious about her understanding of how local procedures of commerce worked.

And on an unintentionally-somewhat-related note, weeks ago I was groggy and doodling and whipped up this aggressive little dude. It started out as a can tab, but then grew a weird tablecloth body and wooden fists. I call him Tabman. He looks odd, I know, but he obviously doesn’t like you staring at him, so please stop. Thank you.

I’ve been awfully busy these days taking advantage of the warmth of the sun. I’ve been on the beach, in the water, in the woods, and doing everything summerly that I can. Because of this increase in fun personal activities, my updates have been more and more infrequent. I know you understand, because you’re swell like that. You’re a great big steaming pile of awesome, and you know it!

After Ultimate last night, someone pointed out that one of our opponents was missing a hand. My first reaction was to feel guilty for playing as hard as I normally would, but later reflection left me wondering. Surely by playing a sport that so frequent involves the hands she must want to be treated equally, so if I had adjusted my level of play, wouldn’t that have been insulting? Would I have played differently had I known before or during the game?

At a tournament many years ago, an opponent was missing most of his left arm. This was a much more noticeable amputation, and I found myself changing my intensity while covering him. Not smart. This guy knew the game and he was fast. Even when I was firing on all pistons, I barely kept up with him. I couldn’t treat him like anyone else; he was too good.

This makes me wonder about other physical limitations. Like how I’ll always take advantage of a mismatch with a slow defender. This is of course just good strategy. But what if instead of a slow defender, it was someone who was blind in one eye and I purposefully stayed to that side? Would that be fair play or would I be capitalizing on disadvantages?

The thought I had while making my way home last night was how my actions change, consciously or not, when my awareness changes. The conclusion I came to — at least as far as sport goes — is that if you’re coming to my house, be ready to play. But if we’re going to a tea party, well, I’ll take it down a notch.

Boy I tell you, it’s been a while since my wrist was this sore. The other day I finished doodling a 28-page comic as a gift for my girlfriend. I think it’s pretty rad but I wish I’d given myself more than just a week to do it in! But now it’s all done with a single one-of-a-kind copy being reproduced into printer spreads and stitched. Don’t be too impressed, it was done in a rushed panic on a colour photocopier. It’s unlikely to be worth millions of dollars by any avid comic collectors.

As this post gets published, I’ll be loaded up with camping gear and on my way to Salt Spring Island. Just like last year — except with a tad more restraint — I’ve gone overboard with gear preparations. New tarp, new multi-day pack, new this, new that. What can I say, I’m a gear guy. I don’t mind packing in a bit of extra weight if I’m going to use it and enjoy it. Like the hammock. And the bocce balls. And this, and that… actually, we’ll see what makes the final cut into the backpack.

And with that!

Man. I finally received some CDs that I’ve been waiting a couple weeks for. I don’t want to sound ungrateful for the service of an independent label, but thirteen business days is pushing it. I ordered Swing Kids in the morning and Amazon had it to me the following afternoon. I want to support small businesses — especially in music — but they have to stay competitive within bounds of reason. If I hadn’t pre-ordered the album, I could have bought it at the store for the same price (with shipping) about 18 days ago. This happened years ago when I pre-ordered a different album from the same label. I’m sure most of it has to do with Canada Customs, but the whole situation gets a big hrmph from me.

All that said, the albums have arrived. The new Sage Francis album called Li(f)e, and two albums by B. Dolan, The Failure and Fallen House, Sunken City. Have yet to give them a good solid listen. I’ll be seeing them both perform on Monday at the Biltmore, my first time for either. I haven’t been to many hip hop shows so I’m really looking forward to it. Sage Francis is among my favourite lyricists, but you should know that.

B. Dolan’s FHSC came with a CD of every song’s instrumental track, as they were produced by Alias. I love instrumental tracks to existing songs. The last Sage Francis album I pre-ordered came with one, and there are a few tracks I want to one day record lyrics over. Last time I tried my new microphone through my audio interface I had a buzz in it. (That gets another hrmph.) I haven’t yet tried to remedy the problem. There are sheets and sheets of lyrics dying to find a home. Just gotta make that time. ‘Til then.

Yesterday was a big day for our raccoon friends living above our kitchen! Bandette and her family have officially been relocated to a newer, happier, and not-in-our-home home. Where they’ve gone exactly we don’t know — she didn’t leave a forwarding address — but I imagine it’s a wonderful place. Also, I imagine that it’s got running water and digital cable. She always wanted digital cable. No more recording over old VHS tapes.

The rescue was interesting. Our landlord cut a hole into the wall above our kitchen sink. After removing the piece of drywall, we could see two babies sitting right there on the insulation. Not the best place to raise children. The mother had been startled by the noise and left the nest, and the man from Critter Rescue took the two babies out and put them in a small bucket which he left in the back yard. Bandette emerged from her little entryway in the roof and went down to fetch her kids right away. She took one and ran off to find a safe new place.

As they were boarding up the entryway, we heard some chattering from inside the hole. A third baby! Bandette had apparently been trying to move her litter when she was startled but didn’t get very far. Another hole was cut into the ceiling and the last baby was pulled out. When the mother returned to the bucket, she found that she couldn’t carry them both at the same time, but she sure tried. For nearly ten minutes she ran between the two just trying to keep them quiet and close. In the end she made two quick trips, and that was that.

It was sad to see their comfort disturbed. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be living in such a cramped area when naturally raccoons live… well, not in the insulated wall of a house. I’m sure that yesterday was a stressful day for them, but it’s for the best. And in a few months when they come back for tea and biscuits, I’m sure we’ll all just laugh about the whole thing.

Last week I was looking at clouds with a walking fellow and saw what was absolutely, definitely chubby Batman wearing an inflatable rubber ducky toy while laying on some rocks. There is no debate, there he is.

Unrelated to this incredible sighting is more activity with our raccoon friend Bandette — (formerly Bandit) — as she continues to prepare her kids for a life ANYWHERE BUT OUR KITCHEN. I’m sure they’re cute and all, but nocturnal and playful aren’t my favourite qualities in a houseguest. She sits on our solarium roof, cleaning and scheming, while those kids of hers chatter on in the small bit of ceiling above our kitchen cupboards. Get a job, already.

Went on a date last week to a beautiful restaurant called Radha. We experienced a delicious meal followed by a long period of wondering how the ‘ricotta’ filling could possibly be made of almonds. Afterwards, there was some Ultimate going on in a park that we passed on our way for a lousy chai, and we watched that for awhile. We weren’t the only ones. An elderly man was sitting behind the fence heckling the goalie of a small soccer practice. Or maybe he was just a generally angry man heckling the world. The downtown east side is not always the most comfortable place to be.

And did you notice I’m trying something new?

Update! Here’s a more detailed sketch to prove there was a chubby Batman in the clouds. Evidence presented, point proven, case closed!

You may have noticed that I added an e-mail subscription feature to this site. Or maybe you didn’t notice, but I assure you it exists, right below the search widget in the sidebar. In any case, if you were to subscribe, instead of coming back to this site as often as I know you do, you can have a light version of the post conveniently sent directly to your inbox! Oh, the technology!
Continued…

Last night I climbed onto the roof with a flashlight and a drill. It was dark and wet and I had to do something.

A few days ago, we were enjoying the warm morning sun in our solarium when we were startled by the sudden appearance of a raccoon on the roof. There is a small crawl space between the solarium roof and the balcony above us, and this is where we decided she must be living. We named her Bandit.

That night there was a commotion coming from our kitchen ceiling, and that’s when we discovered that Bandit was not alone. There was a whole family of raccoons living in that area of our house. Somehow they’d gotten onto the solarium roof — already a feat in itself — and then into the crawl space, into the house, and through the walls to above our sink, which is where their den is. The distance that they covered inside the walls is over 5 meters.

Yesterday my landlords came by and blocked off the crawl space that the raccoons were using to get inside. I mentioned that there was a whole family living there and that the babies were probably still inside. My landlords assured me that there were no babies; it was just two adult raccoons, and they were gone now.

And then that night, we heard the chittering of the babies in the walls, exactly where I’d indicated to my landlords. Bandit was back on the solarium, scratching at the blocked entrance, struggling to get to her family. And that’s why, right after she left, I was out on to the roof.

I called my landlords again this morning and told them why I took down the boards. There were definitely babies in there. They agreed with me that we’ll have to wait until they’re big enough to come out on their own, and at that point we will block it off from them. But for now, it looks like we have a family of raccoons staying with us. Cute factor ten.