Some solipsism (not unusual, obv.): Sometimes the net gets me down. I recently got an email from someone I don't know that said, in effect, "I know who you are and why you're avoiding me, someone you know told me all about you, and har har har I'm not interested in talking to you anymore, so har har har don't bother replying." And I'm like, "Who are you?" Weirdly depressing.

Dave Queen was in town this weekend; he leaves tomorrow. Hung out w/him Friday and Sunday; amazingly good fun both times. (Sunday, i.e. last night, we were out till 5 a.m. talking, along w/the currently blog-vacationing A. Gunn.) He and I both like to talk and make ridiculous connections and crack on pop culture, though he's better at it than I am. Topics included: the Eagles (watch SW's music section for more), Olivia Newton-John, the myriad differences and similarities between Canada, the U.S., and London; the relative ease of buying weed in Vancouver; drugs; alcohol; writing writing writing. Acres more, of course, but it would be difficult to do it all justice. The NYC trip last weekend was amazing, ridiculous fun; hanging w/Dave has been just as good. And yes, I will talk about NYC soon, but I'm in kind of a meh place for blogging lately, partly because I've been writing a bit more than usual for the paper and elsewhere, and partly because I've wanted some quiet-ish time to experience not explicate. I'll try and be back more fully soon, though.