Author: Joey deVilla

For your viewing pleasure, some photos I took of a fire dancer at one of Promise’s “Cherry Beach Sound System” outdoor DJ parties. These were taken August 2002.

I should mention that my trusty Olympus D-320L digital camera turns a whopping four years old this week. It’s a pretty basic camera by today’s standards, what with its single very wide lens and no zoom, a 640 by 480 resolution, and a relatively slow photo-taking cycle. Still, it uses battery power and RAM sparingly; with an 8 MB FlashPath card and 4 AA NiMH batteries, I can take 120 pictures in one go. It’s also a tough little beastie, having survived numerous drops and having a gin and tonic spilled on it by a very cute Czech redhead on New Year’s Eve 2000. I’ve taken over 7,000 pictures with it all over the world: from here in Accordion City to Halifax, Vancouver, Manila (twice), Japan, Hong Kong, Prague, Amsterdam, New York City (many, many times), San Francisco (also many, many times), Washington, D.C. and Burning Man. The only other artifact of mine that’s served me so well over the past few years is my trusty Titano accordion. Happy birthday, camera of mine.

Cake

Sheep Go To Heaven

(with one minor lyric change by yours truly)

I’m not feeling alright today,

I’m not feeling that great,

I’m not catching on fire today,

Love has started to fade,

I’m not going to smile today,

I’m not gonna laugh,

You’re out living it up today,

I’ve got dues to pay,

When the grave digger puts on the foreceps,

The stonemason does all the work,

The barber can give you a haircut,

The carpenter can take you out to lunch,

Now, I just want to play on my squeezebox,

I just want to drink me some wine,

As soon as you’re born, you start dying,

So you might as well have a good time,

Sheep go to Heaven,

Goats go to Hell,

Sheep go to Heaven,

Goats go to Hell,

I don’t wanna go to Sunset Strip,

I don’t wanna feel the emptyness,

Old marquees with stupid band names,

I don’t wanna go to Sunset Strip,

I don’t wanna go to Sunset Strip,

I don’t wanna feel the emptyness,

Old marquees with stupid band names,

I don’t wanna go to Sunset Strip,

The grave digger puts on the foreceps,

The stonemason does all the work,

The barber can give you a haircut,

The carpenter can take you out to lunch,

Now, I just want to play on my squeezebox,

I just want to drink me some wine,

As soon as you’re born, you start dying,

So you might as well have a good time,

Sheep go to Heaven,

Goats go to Hell,

Sheep go to Heaven,

Goats go to Hell,

Sheep go to Heaven,

Goats go to Hell…

(With apologies to Tony Pierce. I got the lyrics-as-blog-entries idea from him.)

The birthday — a big one, my 35th, in fact — is in one month and one day, so I thought it would be a good time to update the Amazon Wish List. Of course, no one’s actually obliged to buy me anything — not even Mom and Dad, who’ve been so kind as to always give me more than enough stuff. However, if you’re in a gift-giving mood, I’m not going to stop you.

You’ll notice that the accordion books are pretty cheap — you’d think that the accordion wasn’t a popular instrument, judging by their prices.

Asking for flatware is part of the “Just Gay Enough” philosophy.

Remember, folks, it’s “Just Gay Enough“, so I’m countering the flatware with the quintessential cock rock album from the almighty AC/DC. Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap and Hayseed Dixie (a hillbilly tribute to AC?DC) are also on my wish list.

And while you’re at it, you may want to check my pal George’s Amazon Wish List. His birthday is a few weeks after mine.

I’m a bit busy today, so today’s posting will appear later than expected. In the meantime, may I suggest the following for your reading pleasure?

Wordshark is a very addictive game. Beware!

Why Is It So Hard to Get a Cab in San Francisco? A cabbie explains. You’d think that a small city (it’s only seven by seven miles) and major tourism and convention destination would be covered in cabs, but you’d be wrong. I lived there last year, and know the frustration of looking for a cab in that city; apparently, when you call for a cab, it’s treated a more of a suggestion rather than an order. The only way to get anything approaching decent cab service in “Baghdad by the Bay” is to strike up a friendship with a cabbie and then get his cellphone number. [from BoingBoing]

Why I wear contact lenses and not glasses. Although some people really do look cute in glasses.

Nigella Lawson sings the praises of British Cuisine. “British Cuisine” may be an oxymoron, but Nigella is my goddess and I will gladly defend to the death anything she says. Now if she will only marry me… [from Plastic]

Stooping and scooping isn’t just for dog owners anymore. [via Fark]

The war will be won with kisses, not bullets. Popular Iranian actress Gowhar Kheirandish, when presenting director Ali Zamani with an award, kissed him on the forehead. It’s not a problem here in the decadent West, but in fundamentalist Iran, that’s a serious crime. Socializing between unrelated men and women — and especially touching, even a handshake — is haram (a “no-no”). They were detained, then let go, and now harliners want to punish the cultural official who let them go. [from Metafilter]

Prince William, could you do me a favour? I hear you’ve got a fancy new apartment in the must-live-there street of the university student neighbourhood. I think you should have a party, hire me as entertainment, and introduce me to your charming flatmate.

The proper way to hang toilet paper. Now you know. And knowing is half the battle.

Last night’s Thirsty People of Toronto gathering took place at Toronto’s grubby-but-oh-so-fun Sneaky Dee’s. A night of drinking, conversation, nachos and Scrabble are precisely what the doctor ordered.

I’d like to send a special shout-out to Bridget — she heard my plea for help in an earlier entry and PayPalled me some money to buy beer — you’re the best!

I’ve just come back from 12 hours of moving tons (literally!) of silk.

Sunny Choi, the semi-formal and formal women’s clothing company a stone’s throw from Big Trouble in Little China (that’s the new name of my house) is moving, and they’ve hired a group of strapping young men — of whom I am one — to move their office, which includes a full dressmaker’s shop. We moved two truckloads of rolls of silk, which we had to load and unload by hand. We also moved an entire winter line of Little Black Dresses.

Now I’ve got to find a way to make an appearance at four separate parties — two at bars, one at an Evil Little Chickie’s warehouse loft, and one on Adam Grant’s roof, which overlooks Queen and Spadina.

And tomorrow morning, Sunny Choi will need my services again. Probably for another 12 hours. And again on Monday. The exercise is good, and since various deadbeats owe me something in the neighbourhood of CDN$15,000, I could also use the money.

Go hard or go home, I always say.