Fireworkspotting

Choose Canada. Choose a city. Choose an event. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big fireworks show. Choose English Bay, Olympics themes, fireworks shaped as poppies, and faulty sound systems. Choose good health, low cholesterol and travel insurance. Choose a Wednesday night when China organise the display. Choose a spot. Choose your friends. Choose not hanging on and waiting for freeloaders. Choose a route downtown with minutes to spare in a sea of fucking teenagers. Choose late nights and wondering where you are on a Thursday morning. Choose standing on that beach watching mind-blowing spirit-lifting light shows, neighbours stuffing fucking junk food into their mouth. Choose sliding away at the end of it all, edging last into your mediocre home, nothing more than an short conversation with the friendly, fucked-up stoners you have happened to live beside. Choose your fireworks. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?

...because it's fun! Yes, I know, I just couldn't be bothered to write my own post, so I copied and pasted an iconic 1990s soliloquy and changed the words a bit. What you gonna do? In English, I went to the Chinese night of the Vancouver Festival of Light. It was fantastic.

In other news, I went to a Blues bar with the French and the Germans on Tuesday night. It was pretty fun, it's a shame I won't see them all again! Maybe some cheap stays on the mainland, yes?