when we wasn't walking in the rain

we watched a little television.

I have to show you more Vancouver pictures, tell you about a book I finished reading on the plane, and review a play I saw last night, but right now I am on my way back to the airport to pick up my brother.

I sure hope they have the marching band ready.

post-airport update: the Bishop Grandin Marching Ghosts did not show up today, but a Dixieland band did. Also Mike Kelly.

ain't nobody that can talk like him

Billy Bragg is playing the Jack Singer Concert Hall in Calgary tonight. The last time he was here, he played Knox United Church and it was a great night, very intimate. I would be very curious to hear what people think of a luxe concert hall as a venue in which to experience Mr Bragg, as I won't be able to attend. I suspect the venue does not really matter all that much when it comes to enjoying the firebrand from Barking.

Of course I did have the pleasure of attending the Billy Bragg show in Vancouver on the weekend, and there I had the added delight of being there with a handful of lovely blog friends and the OFKAR, and of finally being welcomed into the inner sanctum of the fabulous Commodore Ballroom.

If you ever get a chance to see a show at the Commodore, just go! The atmosphere is casual and open, yet tinged with elegance by virtue of the beautiful surroundings. It's a crying shame that nobody was permitted to use the empty reserved corporate booths, though. The irony of this occuring at a Billy Bragg show was not lost upon me.

Ron Hawkins (Ron, not Ronnie) opened what he alluded to as the night of the guitar solo. Kudos to the ever-vigilant Matthew for recognising the performer as being a former member of the Toronto band, Lowest of the Low. Naturally I bow to Matthew's expertise and acknowledge his status as senior musicologist amongst our group that night.

Ron Hawkins laid down a strong set. He's a large man with a large presence, and his songs of lost souls and hard times felt at once personal and universal. He was a good match for a Billy Bragg show. Interestingly, Kris Demeanor will be opening the Calgary show, and he will make a fine accompaniment to Billy Bragg's other strongpoint - the story-telling.

Billy Bragg, much like fine wine and yours truly, just keeps getting better with age. He is one of those rare individuals who maintain their passions and their convictions over the years, and he does not tone things down just because he has a touch more grey. He played for over two hours at the Commodore on Saturday night, two hours of fervent rabble-rousing, two hours of soulful softy songs, two hours of stories and rants and working himself and his fans up into a lather.

He doesn't try to deny that he is aging. He was after all, drinking tea on-stage, for his "froat". But he is still passionately involved in life and causes, and in amongst thrilling us with New England and Levy Stubbs Tears and Power in a Union and Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key, he alternately delighted us and infuriated us with lengthy tales and pithy quips of his guitar-playing teenaged son, the fascist running for office in his hometown, the Vancouver weather, the "Thatcher is dead" text message, the Clash, and the dangers of cynicism.

There was a lot of love in the room, and it was felt across the wide spectrum of humanity in the audience that night, from the aging hippies and the olde punks to the indie kids and the young marrieds. It felt like community, and everybody sang along.

I know he covered many of the same topics at other concerts across the country during this tour, but the thing about Billy Bragg is he makes it feel personal. And when he points at you and you and you and you and you at the end of the concert, to acknowledge your presence and your singing and your humanity, it feels real.

It was glorious. It was rousing. And somebody in the audience went home with a used teabag.

And most importantly, it ended in a singalong.

mistaken for footballers

I knew that the Spousal Unit was planning to pick me up at the airport today, but I really expected it to be much more low key than this.

I stepped off the escalator and toward the doors of the meet and greet area, expecting to see the usual handful of people on the other side waiting to greet arrivals. Instead, as the doors slid open, I was greeted by a bank of ten to twelve television cameras. For a second I had to scan my memory to recall if I had slept with any celebrities lately.

It wasn't until a couple of seconds later that I noticed the marching band in the crush of bodies surrounding the arrivals door. Although I am not sure how I missed those red and gold brocaded uniforms with the big majorette hats, at least fifty strong, with drums and trombones and a couple dozen flags. Jet lag perhaps. And it wasn't until I noticed that a flight from Regina had arrived at the same time as my flight from Vancouver that I remembered that the Grey Cup is being played in Calgary this weekend.

Once the Bishop Grandin Marching Ghosts had finished feting the arriving Grey Cup players, and after that handful of 300 pounders had all been white-hatted in the traditional style of this city, the airport returned to normal.

Just another day in the city that loves a parade.

See anything unusual in your travels today?

west coast haiku

walking in the rain

chilled to the bone and dog tired

is fun with my kid

leaping tall buildings in a single bound

This Vancouver trip feels like it is speeding by at a breakneck pace, yet it has been so packed with events and activities and fabulous people that it's also hard to believe that I have only been here since Friday afternoon.

Since we last spoke, I spent five hours wandering around downtown in the rain with the Offspring Formerly Known as Resident, getting seizures from the excesses in Pacific Centre mall, learning how to do the umbrella-passers' greeting on the rain-soaked streets (one up/one down), getting shushed by book browsers in Chapters.

At least one of us was thoroughly chilled, weary and starving by the time we met Allison, Mel and Matthew in front of the pub on Granville and Robson, but a steaming bowl of Irish stew and a refreshing ale soon made that grumpy shopper fit company once again, and the rest of the night was golden. It seemed a little surreal to be sharing food and drink and entertainment with not one, not two, but three fabulous blog friends. It sure felt right.

The Commodore Ballroom is a a gorgeous venue, boasting elegant woodwork, a sweeping staircase, killer arch windows overlooking downtown Vancouver, with booth and tables and three bars. We managed to grab a table on the second level, nicely cozy to the stage with a perfectly unobstructed view.

Details of the Billy Bragg concert itself deserve more space than I can afford here, and will be forthcoming in the next couple of days. But it was a great night, spent with great friends.

After getting to sleep at an hour when one is more likely to be getting up for a middle of the night tinkle, both the OFKAR and I found that morning arrived brutally early.

But there was shopping to be done. In Burnaby, nonetheless. And there was Allison's museum to be toured even further afield from the rain-soaked streets of Vancouver. Suffice it to say that we set a new gold standard for targetted shopping, amassing an unprecedented amount of wardrobery in 1.5 hours.

The Maple Ridge Community Museum was a bit of a gem, I thought. The Haney house is a donated family home, quite beautifully appointed, on a lovely little spit of land, while the main museum building itself boats the most astounding and complete miniature train display you will ever see.

And the evening spent with Al in her lovely cozy little flat, munching on hearty black bean and corn quesadillas and homemade apple crisp while gossiping about the rest of you, felt so natural and comfortable, like we do that sort of thing every weekend, that it was hard to believe that we would soon giving each other a goodbye hug, which would have to tide us over for several months.

Tomorrow will be an even earlier morning, since my angel child is taking herself to morning classes. We'll be spending the rest of the day poking around some shops and sharing a meal or two before I will reluctantly return her to the clutches of the ivory tower.

But I will return.

how hard can it be to be a weather forecaster in Vancouver these days?

I mean seriously. All you have to do is say "it's gonna rain!" periodically and you're covered.

Cushiest job ever.

Apparently I arrived during the only 3-hour break from the rain that this city has seen all month. Sadly, those dry Calgary winds that I tucked into my bag were no match for the pineapple express that's been pummeling the coast.

But that did not stop Mel, Al, the OFKAR and I from wandering around the corner to Davie Street and tucking into a bit of a curry fest during the sleepover last night. And the rain made cozying up on the couch and falling asleep while watching The Princess Bride feel even cozier.

The OFKAR and I are planning to do some much needed shopping this afternoon, prior to the Billy Bragg concert.

I hope Lady Garmin doesn't try to murder me in a lake like she did yesterday. Besides dealing with an evil GPS who just wants to mess with your mind, I have discovered that there are some other challenges to driving around Vancouver. On the way from the airport, I drove for 20 minutes without seeing a single speed limit sign. Oh yeah, and I learned the hard way that there are no merge lanes in this city.

the sky may be gushing, but then so am I

I may be headed to a city that has been deluged by cold November rains (with expectations of much of the same), but my blog posts may very well be as dry as your skin during a Calgary winter for the next few days.

Expect shamefully Twitteresque reports while I:

- have a giggle-fest sleepover at my hotel with the outrageous OFKAR, the glorious Allison, and vivacious Mel

- celebrate my 17th blogger meetup, with the delightful Westcoast Walker

- rock out (and if past performance is any indicator, laugh my fool head off) at a Billy Bragg concert

- get the red carpet treatment at the Maple Ridge community museum

- shop shop shop laugh laugh laugh with the OFKAR

My blog visits will be seriously curtailed, naturally, and I hope you will forgive my ignoring you. I will miss you all, but be forewarned, when I return, I will be all over your blogs like ugly on an ape.

but you can't see your way if you're blind

Smell my face. Does it remind you of Thanksgiving?

The lady who vacuums my face always wants to try new techniques on me and today I let her talk me into a pumpkin facial.

I look good enough to eat!

I just realised today that I have not flown solo since before the Offspring Formerly Known as Resident was born. Although I am not looking forward to being solo whilst navigating the car rental business and then finding my way around that crazy city which is built entirely on bridges, I must admit I am anticipating the time to read in the airport and in the skies.

I have Terry O'Reilly's brand new book tucked into my computer case, as well as some work-related magazines, and I can't wait to kick back with a cup of coffee and a couple of hours to read. Just thinking about it feels so incredibly luxurious.

I haven't a hope in hell of catching up to the blistering reading pace set by the OFKAR, who has just finished her 49th book of the year. Barring John Kusack unleashing the end of the world upon us two years early, she will most certainly make her goal of 50 books this year.

*golf claps all round*

I have however, just completed a rather lengthy book, which at times I doubted that I would actually finish, and I have posted a review over at the Bookworm Collective. I invite you to discover what I thought of this vaguely gothic Spanish historical mystery.

What are you reading these days, anyway?

top five benefits to being cataract free

1. return to 20/20 vision

2. return of colour vision

3. being able to drive at night without feeling like I am driving into an exploding fireworks factory

4. being able to read road signs before I pass them

5. no more reading glasses

I am really glad I had cataract surgery before heading out to Vancouver this weekend, where I will be driving solo in a strange city that has too many bridges, in a province without one single straight road.

Matthew Good: us does not remain impossible

Matthew Good (with Mother Mother)
- Jack Singer Concert Hall, Nov 15/09

Matthew Good is touring with a band again. And even though he messed up the words to Hello Time Bomb on Sunday night, and even though he declined a confrontation with a band mate because he was "winded as an 80-year-old man", he's still got the chops for rock n roll.

Sunday night's concert certainly proved that. After a few years of touring solo and playing dark acoustic shows, Matthew Good had no problems packing the house (and necessitating a second concert on Wednesday) with his return to his rock roots.

Vancouver power pop group Mother Mother opened the night with a polished and choreographed set. They were given a mixed reception. Most people clapped politely, but there were evidently some hardcore fans in the crowd too. It's not often you see people (albeit less than a handful) dancing in the aisles at Jack Singer. It's just not that sort of venue.

I wasn't sold on them musically, though. They were energetic enough and I am sure they are very nice people, but I found them to be almost annoying, melodically speaking. They've got the looks, they've got the clothes, but I think if you are going to go the power pop New Pornographers route, you have got to have the catchy hooks. It's imperative.

But of course, everyone was there to see Canada's premier rocker curmudgeon, Matthew Good, and he certainly did not disappoint, either musically or curmudgeonally. It's no wonder that he has such a long-standing reputation for being confrontational. It's partly because he is highly opinionated, with the brains and the passion to back up those opinions, and partly because the audiences at his concerts are filled with an inordinately high proportion of drunken yobs.

Fortunately, Matt Good can always be relied upon to put disruptive jerks in their place with his trademark stinging sarcasm that the rest of us find hilarious and highly satisfying. There were a few moments like that: the pointed look in the general direction of the offender, the pause, and then the zinger. Matthew Good has great timing and he does not tolerate fools.

Surprisingly there were no political rants. He did not once mention the Olympics nor any member of government. I guess even Matt Good has to take a night off from being the bulldog of the nation. And he certainly did seem relaxed, right down to the Pink Floyd tee shirt he was sporting.

But rants and wardrobe aside, Matt Good played a solid 90 minute set (plus 20 minute encore), heavily populated with songs from his newest album, Vancouver. It's a tribute to the drunks behind us that they knew all the words to the new songs, even though they shouted them instead of singing them like a normal person would. In amongst the new songs, Matt dipped back into Hospital Music, Avalanche, Beautiful Midnight, and even Underdogs for the rest of the set.

He obviously enjoyed playing with a band again. They sounded solid, like a band that has been together for a while, and there was a considerable amount of joie de vivre on-stage. It's not often you see the bassist leave the stage mid performance to go to the bathroom. And I doubt that in the old days of the Matthew Good Band, it would have been the occasion for good-natured jesting that it was on Sunday night.

We were particularly impressed with the young guitarist, and not just because he had perfected his awesome guitar hero stances either. He really could flail on that thing. More than once, his riffs launched a spontaneous outburst of applause.

It was great to witness Mr Good delivering an all out rock performance, complete with a stunning light show, again. That Pink Floyd tee shirt turned out to be appropriate after all. This was the fifth time that I have seen Matthew Good perform, yet only the second time with a band. Matthew Good the solo performer and Matthew Good the band frontman can coexist quite seamlessly, I think. He still has the powerful voice and he still has the presence; those will remain constant, regardless of how many people are on that stage.

search engine optimization: increasing your web presence through clever wordplay

How Keyword Searches and Well-Placed Cross-Linking Can Skyrocket Your Algorithmic Ranking

Search engine optimization is all the rage in the world of web publishing these days. If you want a successful web magazine that attracts both readers and search engine bots, you really need to understand how search engines crawl the internet looking for the sexiest words of the day. Apparently using the right word in the right place can seriously impact the top secret algorithmic ranking that search engines like Google, Yahoo, and Bing give to your website. This has a direct impact on the placement that your website gets on the search page when people type in a keyword search.

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That was the gist of the seminar I attended today. And fascinating stuff it was too. Although geared toward web magazines, a lot of the information is just as relevant to blogs. After all, we are all subject to the same sort of scrutiny by the same relentlessly crawling search engine bots, regardless of whether we publish a popular web-savvy magazine like Wired or if we post to a blog that is dedicated to kitchen aprons from the fifties.

Although a lot of what was discussed at the web publishing seminar today was common sense and rather intuitive, I thought, I did learn a great deal and had my eyes opened to a few glaring errors that I was making. I have incorporated six methods for increasing search engine optimization into this blog post, some of which I use routinely anyway, some of which are foreign to me.

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The first person who can spot all six key points in this blog post gets a prize. A real prize, which will arrive in the mail with a stamp and everything.

Oh how I miss those song lyrics already!

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For more stories about my adventures about gazing deeply into the navel of this crazy little thing called the internetz, feel free to read about:

- the time I got my own private Radiohead widget

- my complicated relationship with my blog

abacuses don't lie

Middle of the month. Time to take stock of those November resolutions.

I'm pleased to announce that I have managed to fulfill my NaBloPoMo commitment of daily posting thus far. And frankly it hasn't really been all that difficult. It has had the added effect of making me interested in my blog again. I once again look forward to posting every day, and find that it's actually sort of therapeutic.

Mind you that has been the easy half of the month, the one with the minimum of commitments. The second half of the month could prove to be slightly more challenging, what with five days of travelling and a week of entertaining my brother. I am not complaining, no no! I can't wait to hang out on the wet coast with the OFKAR and some friends that I haven't seen in ages. And I love hanging out with my brother. But I will be a little more time pressed to write those daily blog posts. Just like people with real jobs.

If you are observing National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo) or the even more ambitious National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), I wish you every success. Don't give up; you are halfway there.

Are you doing NaNoWriMo or NaBloPoMo?

How's it coming along?