All posts tagged vancouver

You And Me Both, Brother

//see

I walk to work every other day or so, about a mile through a city I can now navigate with my eyes splitting time between my phone and the way the buildings here seem to volley sunlight back and forth in between them like little kids fighting over a beachball.

The coffee shop across from our office is a cave of a place, friendly staff and great food and good at knowing which drink you’ll have based on the way you open the door. It’s the destination, each morning, and the route through downtown Vancouver is usually similar to the previous one, similar to the next, save for a busy intersection that might send me this way or that, an extra block or two.

People in this town aren’t rushed like they are in other cities. Every once in a while you get a whiff of crisp mountain air that reminds you to look North to take in those pearly whitecaps you probably forget are always there.

//

This morning I took a different route. Sometimes you need to tell yourself to take another route, to push yourself outside of the most meaningless norms in order to have the confidence to do the same thing when when it really matters.

The sun and smells were fresh as came around the underbelly of the city near the stadium where my old friend spends his weekends captaining the soccer team into their second professional season.

A block or two from the stadium there’s an expanse of public soccer fields and my route takes me alongside them, fields to my right and the outer walls of the Dr. Sun Yat Sen Chinese Garden to my left.

Calm and solitude emanate from either side…especially nice while dressed in dusty columns of early sunlight.

//

I stepped off the sidewalk towards the fields to snap a photo. Empty soccer pitches in the morning anchor childhood memories I can almost taste.

Flashbacks to years of early morning dew and sunrise, sitting on the sidelines putting on shinguards and cleats hoping the grogginess subsides before game time. The buzz to play, to compete.

A man was sauntering along the street towards the corner I’d come upon. I stood leaning against the rail with my camera held towards the sun.

Spare some change?

//

I’d ask the guy taking time out of his morning to snap photos of an empty pitch for change too.

//

“Honestly wish I could. Elbow deep in chasing dreams these days. I’ve got nothin.”

He smiled genuinely.

“I guess we’re both chasing dreams, then, eh?”

Ha! Indeed.

He limbered by.

At the intersection a few paces away he turned around and he said, “I think that makes us both rich in some way.”

A Moment With Ryan & Harlan

Harlan and Ryan.

I actually wrote another post for the “Moment” prompt from REVERB10, which I’m doing a pretty bad job of keeping up on but oh don’t you worry because I’m going to write every post, and I’d have posted the original #moment post a few days ago but I couldn’t find a way to finish it, and I’m glad I couldn’t, because this is better.

I originally wrote a post about the moment at which I went broke. The moment I ran out of money.

It’s decent.

I’ll post it at some point.

That post would be this post but I met Harlan and Ryan.

And I decided that writing about a moment wasn’t as important as HAVING one, so I decided to have one.

I couldn’t bust up the confidence to talk to them on first pass. I was out on Fraser Street to buy a bottle of wine.

They were sitting outside the liquor store.

They exuded danger and rough and a little crazy. Cigarettes, booze, and occasionally a solid street fight. I couldn’t get past the fact that they were sitting in front of a liquor store up at 30th and Fraser, one of them strumming a guitar, at 8pm on a Sunday night in Vancouver.

If you were looking to make money by begging in front of a business establishment, you wouldn’t choose a liquor store in my neighborhood on a Sunday night.

The bottle of wine I’d come for, well…it ended up including a fifth of the cheapest whisky they had. I tried to convince myself that I bought the whisky because I love whisky. Also, whisky usually turns out to be something worth having, but the truth is that I grabbed it because I really wanted to talk to these dudes sitting on the sidewalk, and I figured that sitting on the sidewalk outside of a liquor store meant that you…well…kind of dig liquor. Maybe I’d share some sauce for a real conversation?

We all do it.

On that notion I walked out of the store and mustered a ‘what up‘ and offered them a cigarette. It’s chilly in Vancouver now. Chilly enough to make the sidewalk annoyingly cold, I’d imagine.

I gave Harlan a smoke and when I offered Ryan one, they offered to share. I balked at that and pushed another smoke at Ryan. Their humility was obvious, and welcome.

I asked them what their story was, and they both laughed at the enormity of that question.

You don’t end up chillin’ on the sidewalk in a quiet neighborhood in Vancouver without having a story that takes hours to even lay the groundwork on.

Ryan, by the way, is tattooed across his forehead. Both of them have the roughest kind of teeth, and the most tattered, leathery, challenge-the-world clothes that amount to a look that would make your parents hold their breath and reach for one another.

Dangerous looking dudes, these two, and incredibly nice.

H: I spent a bunch of time in jail…but fuck it man, I’m here now. You can’t keep me down!

R: Come closer, man, I can’t hear out of that ear. What kind of music do you like? I’ll play whatever, man.

ME: You know what? I just love music. All of it. I love that you’re playing it here. Play whatever.

[around here I snapped the phone above, with permission]

R: Yeah…hey we saw an great show last night.

He named three local bands I’d never heard of.

R: Oh wow…they’ve been around since the eighties…they’re right here on my shoulder.

He pulled at his leather jacket to show me his jean vest with a band’s patch sewed on…the band’s name was ‘something ABORTIONS‘.

They told me they’d just found a place to live down the street, for $850, with free cable and internet. They were so pumped, and I was too, actually, because I think that every awesome city in North America should have livable places that people can grab for around $400. The realest cities have the people who need affordable rent, for whatever reason.

Harlan offered me a bag of potato chips in return for the whisky swigs I’d offered them.

ME: Potato chips? What?

H: Yeah, yeah that place three blocks down just threw these out! They cost like 3 bucks…feel my backpack…it’s mostly air. Chips are such a ripoff.

[they’d scoped the local dumpsters]

He had a backpack full of potato chips…all kinds. I went for some salt & pepper organic bag.

ME: You know, I’m laughing, guys, because of how awesome that is, and because I’m probably more broke than you. You guys just own it so well and it’s so real that it’s almost funny.

It was an amazing conversation.

It was an amazing connection, right into the world of someone completely random. A moment, the way that moments can be grabbed.

A pair of dudes that almost looked so scary you couldn’t be scared at all. You just wondered what made them them.

You saw life’s battle scars, and they reminded you that you wore the same ravage.

You looked at them and thought about what you must look like to strangers, and how much that image must leave out, in most cases.

How trivial worrying about the way people perceive you really is.

Because the two guys sitting on the sidewalk playing tunes on a Sunday evening with tattoos across their foreheads…those guys were seriously cool.

They were intelligent, introspective, funny people with a very real view on the way the world works.

It was a moment.

What makes you feel alive?

How Are Things Going?

“I’d love to make new friends, but who does that after they’re 30?”

I got that text from a friend I left behind in Chicago, a person I probably miss more than I even realize sometimes. Giving up the world I had in Chicago was a conscious (and consciously painful) decision I needed to make to give dream chasing a real shot.

Sounds all fuzzy and exciting and what everyone should do but that’s when you don’t analyze the real meat and potatoes of what makes life worth living, which is the people you spend it with.

Sometimes you can’t control the way people enter and leave your life, and sometimes they leave in drastic and painful ways, but when you’re wholly responsible for deciding to uproot yourself you carry around that weight a bit, no matter the reason you did it or what the result was.

My situation’s a bit unique, having left home to start a company. I’m in a new city (and country, eh?) and the reality is that lifelong friends are simply not something you can go out and pick up easily. Do people make new friends at 30 years old? Sure. Is it quite a lot harder than at 18, 23, 25?

Fuck yes.

I love what I do every day. I love working on a problem that’s got absolutely no roadmap.

Every single day is a mystery, every accomplishment that much richer because it’s like you’ve birthed it. The conversations you have are almost all based around your little company and ambitions. You learn so much…about yourself and other people and markets and technologies and you look around at the people doing the same thing and you learn from their accomplishments, ideas, and mistakes.

It’s thrilling.

It makes answering the ‘how are things going?‘ question a very difficult one to answer, because until things are decidedly doing so well you’re almost surprised by it all, you’re really just surviving. Things are going well because you get to be inside of your project and the world revolves around your ideas.

Things are also terribly frustrating and scary, because you have no cushion and you have no guarantees and you have no social life and you experience the thrills and rewards of a life you’ve chosen right next to the uncertainties and very real stress of building a company.

People here are amazing, which I think I’ve said, but probably not enough. People like Mac, Maura, Tony, Sonia, Tina, Jodi, Daniel, NoahBoris and Danny (and on and on, really) have literally shaped my experiences here, and have done so in only the way really open, friendly, giving, supportive people can.

You know how sometimes people have their circles and can’t find room for outsiders? These aren’t those people.

These are people full of life and friendship. People full of ideas and ambition and a drive to welcome people into their circles. People who matter because they care about other people.

My kind of people.

So, things are good. And tough. And exciting and invigorating and alive. The heart is still beating and every day’s a new day.

And yeah, I’m still crushing like a fool on this girl. More on that later, I’m sure.

How about you?

How are things going?

A Day In The Life

My bus rolled lazily down the hill towards downtown with a crest of sunshine peeking over the city’s leering mountains gathering an unusually light crowd of early commuters and the usual mix of destitutes making their way to the intersection of Main and Hastings, effectively an open air flea market of drugs and addiction in full swing day and night.

The intersection is, quite frankly, total mayhem…no matter it be eight in morning or ten at night, and it serves as as stark reminder that the bottom is quite a lot further down the rabbit hole than anything I’ll ever experience.

It’s a useful reminder, actually.

The bus opened its doors at that corner and the addicts jumped off eagerly, as always. I gazed out at a decrepedly thin Asian man crouched against the building facing me, happily handing single cigarettes to two young men and a woman huddled around him. The two young men moved off and the women, in a loose yellow v-neck, torn jeans, and supported by one of those four-legged walkers, swayed back and forth while chatting and stashing her smoke in a back pocket.  She was war-torn, to the point at which you could almost believe that the walker wasn’t even medically related; it was simply that balance is a luxury no longer afforded to someone who has run that many chemicals through themselves.

When you see this section of town, you’ll understand that I thought very little of the scene.

My day was hectic, as a meeting-filled day tends to be.  When building a web product it’s hard to feel productive unless you’re nestled up to your computer.  For good or for bad I feel a deep sense of urgency about our website and product right now so my senses are probably heightened a bit, and I get tense when I’m not feeling as if I’m getting shit done.

As I moved from coffee with an exciting new prospective hire to strategy planning with Anthony  I felt as if the productive part of my day was rapidly escaping me.

It’s ludicrous, really, as we’re moving a lot of people and pieces towards our goals and improved product, but hey, it’s how I felt. I think anyone who’s faced important deadlines can relate to the way a priority list can loom in the corner pointing at you like the Evil Monkey in Chris’ closet.

I settled into the early evening catching up on email and Foodtree code development, hesitant to leave because it felt as if the day had just gotten started.  A poker game was beginning in the conference room next to our kitchen and entrepreneurs wandered the floor looking for a few more last minute players.  The sun, now setting, crawled at length across the floor, and a team building an application for the hockey community gathered around a whiteboard discussing revenue models.

This is the stuff of ideas in motion.

My focus was off and it was getting late, and I knew I should reengage my priority list at home.

I boarded my bus and sat with a blank stare out the window, mentally reshuffling work stuff with my jaw clenched tight.  Zoned, but still mentally locked into things that need doing.

Three busstops later I snapped into focus as a yellow streak caught my eye, and there she was.

The woman from twelve hours earlier was hobbling across the street out my window, a few blocks from where I’d noticed her before.  She was just moving down the sidewalk…her walker, then a step…deliberate.  Awkward and slow. She hunched forward and to the side…

The struggle of it…of a block-long stretch of sidewalk, seemed almost unfair.

What must her day have been like?

I imagined a day of detachment and pain, craving and confusion. Alleys and sidewalks. Bartering and hustling and a never-ending quest for self-destruction.

A city block transformed into a mile long  journey.

A day that seemed to have ended before it began suddenly became endless, right before my very eyes.

Depressed? Not One Bit.

Earlier this week I had a dear friend ask me if I was depressed.

Word around town was of concern, and surprisingly informed by the tone of my blog posts this month, of which I think there are a grand total of two.

I laughed and immediately realized that I’d made a lot of the idea that I don’t have friends in Vancouver, which is both untrue and a sentiment that I now realize is hard to address flippantly, especially when you have people who actually use your blog to try and get some insight into what the hell your life is like on the other side of the continent.

Depressed?  No.

Not at all, actually.

It was almost funny and jolting to have that be one of the reasons he’d hoped to connect on Skype because I’d literally been walking home from work and thinking about how many amazing people I’ve met in this city, and how the way they are amazing is in the way some people go well beyond themselves to make others feel welcome.  The way people have the capacity to see beyond themselves and notice you.

People surprise you, and if you stop for a second you’ll realize it happens often.

Vancouver is gorgeous right now, like an island paradise that’s unaware of anything but a state of perfectness.  Warm, breezy air, clear turquoise skies draped over ragged mountains rising up in the glory of nature’s prowess.

You can see the world in a square mile here, between the water and the sky.

I’m not depressed, and in fact I’m quite happy, and I’m overcome with an ambition…an urgency…and if I had a wish it would be that the inertia subside a bit and let me sit in the sun and compose my thoughts more regularly.

Things are good.  Things kind of kick ass, honestly.

How about you?

That’s not a rhetorical question.

Who Is This Guy?

This is funny.

I’m alone the other night, which isn’t all that weird, considering I’ve lived in this city for six months and we all know that once you hit thirty it’s different to make new friends. If you’re in Vancouver and I’ve met you please don’t take that to mean I don’t absolutely love you all. Everyone here is really, really incredible.

But in Chicago, with the lifelong network, I had way too many options every weekend night. I look back and thank myself for prioritizing my true friends, because I now appreciate how important they are.

So anyway, I’m alone.

I’m in my new apartment, and the walls are almost repainted…which is to say that they’re in that state between being done and having the edges done.

I’d bought myself a six pack of PBR, which in Canada seems to be extremely under-appreciated, by the way, considering PBR’s general level of greatness and the love you find for it in Chicago.  Anyway.

I decide I’ll finish the paint job.

An hour later, I’m celebrating the completion of half the kitchen out behind the apartment, in a residential alley that’s relatively secluded. I’m drinking a PBR, and I’m smoking a cigarette (I know, I know).

In Vancouver, the nights are long and the sky is pretty magical at 10pm; all kinds of blues and yellow.

Pinks and reds.

Sexy.

I totally zone out, and a plane flies low over the city as I watch its three yellow lights cut through the painting that is Vancouver’s post-sunset.

Zoned. Out.

I’m kind of lazily standing there, one knee cocked, looking kind of perplexed.

Up the alley comes a minivan, slowing cruising towards a house down the block. I barely notice.

As it rolls by I became aware of myself…I thought immediately about what the middle aged guy driving must have thought when he saw me.

Check out what I was wearing.

I’m standing there in flip flops and fucking swim trunks.

Drinking a PBR and smoking a cigarette.

Sunburned to a crisp. Bright red.

Oh, and those swim trunks? They’re bright florescent orange.

The t-shirt I’m wearing?

It’s brighter, more florescent orange.

You know what that t-shirt says?

BLOGGABLE.

Work On Something Cool

You find yourself in the middle of a day that’s a month after the one you last remember.

You want to have written every minute of it, but instead you look around and wonder what you might do to further the cause you’ve jumped on board with.

That’s the best part of working on something you care about.  It’s also bad for your personal blog.

No, that isn’t an apology.

I spent a lot of time in the years after I graduated from college wondering what real people did with their lives.  I looked at the routes society mandates as advisable and found most of them completely foreign to the way I operate.

So I tried a few things.

I tried working for a lawyer doing deals in Hollywood and pondered the potential of a life as an intellectual property attorney.  Flights to LA for movie set duty and daily check ups on the industry news in Variety.

I took the LSAT twice and that second time I killed it like oil killed the Gulf of Mexico.

Before I got my scores back I heard the sing song everyone in the industry offered as advice: we hate this work.  I worked for people I saw gripping smoke and coffee breaks like their day would explode without them.  I saw the promise that going postal would provide wickedly smart people locked up in the depression afforded to the unfortunate and well-meaning people who settle for the restrictions of a typical career in a typical industry that pay a typically great salary for being typical.

Out I went, chasing the promise of an entrepreneurial environment in an identically typical industry.

Where I learned the hardest lesson I’ve learned: working for yourself isn’t the promised land.

Working for yourself isn’t the same as working on something you love working on.

So I failed at a long term and scalable business effort in a field that didn’t make me happy.

Big surprise there.

Today I’m in the office at the heart of a truly gorgeous city pretty damn late on a Friday night, and I feel like working.

I feel like working.

Hours and hours after I’d ever have imagined working on anything remotely related to work at any point in the years that came before 2010.

It ain’t easy.  I’ve told a lot of you that.

Take it from me though; life’s work and work’s life.  You are both.

Make ’em jive.

Work on something cool. Do it in the morning or night or lunchbreaks or whatever.  Just do it.

Then tell everyone about it.

What are you doing that’s cool?  I truly want to know.

I’m A Founder, I’m At Bootup

Today, one of the guys I met as a fellow cohort founder when I arrived at Bootup Labs wrote a blog post that has started a wider conversation on some of the developments recently here at the accelerator.  I won’t recount that; you can find the story at Techcrunch, gigaOM, ReadWriteWeb, and others.  You can read the Bootup Labs piece here.

Jamie was one of the co-founders at a company called Status.ly and one of the accelerator cohort members I definitely got along with best.  Jamie and Daniel from Zedmo were two people I considered among my first friends here, and both remain friends following some of the unfortunate realities that blew through here recently.

Some of the original Bootup cohort members are no longer with us here, leaving behind Compass Engine, Summify, and my team at Foodtree.  The details around that unfortunate development are intimately tied to the difficulties present in today’s early round investment community, and I think if you poke through those articles and specifically the Bootup Labs official blog post, they’re pretty well covered.

In the process of closing a funding round, some concessions were made and the roster had to be shortened.  Those of us who remain are in office, and trying to make use of the resources we have here.

I suppose I’m writing to to share a bit of the perspective I have as someone who was a part of this process, and yet remains in Bootup Labs.  This is my personal blog, and not our company’s official blog, mind you.

I think it’s important to note that everyone involved, both founders and Bootup, did their best to deal with the challenges that presented themselves and lead to what happened.  We were all frustrated when it looked as if the funding round was in jeopardy; having worked in finance and investments I wasn’t surprised that things like that could change quickly, but nevertheless I made the same sacrifices that Jamie made.

I sold my stuff.  I emptied my bank account. I came here with very little in my pocket and I have spent my bank account dry more than once since January.  I flew to Vancouver with two bags, and I am living out of them.

I did that knowing full well that the financing was contingent. That was a risk I was willing to take.

All of that aside, I had no expectations of an easy road, and I quickly dispelled any expectation of seed investment from Bootup.  Our team had (high) hopes that we’d be able to avoid Bootup’s capital component, the details of which have been a bit misconstrued around the web, but don’t add a whole lot to the discussion.  Even when Bootup’s capital line became our most attractive potential source of capital (after we already knew the funding round was in jeopardy), we worked under the assumption that chickens aren’t counted before they hatch.

I don’t mean to suggest that Jamie counted chickens, and I sure as heck don’t intend to undermine any of Jamie’s thoughts or opinions.  I mean, I moved here knowing three people, and the people I met at Bootup were my social circle; losing those four teams was painful.  It was devastating for all the companies – and the companies no longer here are dealing with the resulting challenges.  I don’t wish that on people I consider friends and have a huge amount of respect for.

The companies who are still here have our own challenges.  We’re all working day and night to build exciting products and traction.  We are learning more every day and we’re mindful of the experiences we’ve had so far.  Nothing is guaranteed.  We are fully responsible for making this work.

And there aren’t hard feelings around here…as I write this post there are members of Zedmo and Blastramp in our offices, plugging in and getting sh*t done.  I keep in touch with Jamie and hope to see him again.

If anyone out there has questions about this situation or even what it’s been like to launch a startup in a world that throws you curve balls, please feel free to reach out.  Comment here, hit me up on Twitter, or shoot me an email.  Speculation doesn’t carry any real value these days…I’m a firm believer that transparency is paramount.

Startup Social Life, Missing

When you make a decision to leave the world you’ve been in for any significant amount of time, you’re making a whole slew of decisions at once.

The purely locational decision is one.

Assuming there’s a professional component, that’s another.

The hardest one is realized in retrospect, when you find yourself at the tail end of all the large and little stuff that needs to happen to get you to your new location and your new life and new responsbilities.

That one’s the social one.

If you’ve been in the town you’re sitting in for a while, I’m talking to you from the other side.  I’m offering some feedback from the other side where the grass might be greener.

The friends you have are more than their roles as players in the experience you have every day.  They are more than who showed up at the bar or house party and who didn’t.  They are more than their love life drama and obvious shortcomings when it comes to showing up on time or really listening when you bitch about your boss.

They are more than the shared meals and concerts and shoulder to cry on…they’re more than the good and the bad stuff all added up.

They are the driving force in the web of life that’s making you who you are, where you are.

Those people are everything that goes into your sense of support and well-being, and their role is as integral to your happiness as the things you think you do for yourself which might be reproduced no matter where in the world you found yourself.

Your solo bike rides and Saturday morning coffee and dedicated Sex In The City rerun marathons all happen in the context of the access you have to the people who make up your immediate world, which quite frankly does not include anyone who isn’t there.

Proximity is an amazing thing because we tend to underweight it as motivated worldly citizens who want as much out of life as we can wrap our head and hearts around.  I’m not here telling you that I regret moving to Vancouver and I’m certainly not telling you to forgo your dreams, but I am telling you that before you go you should notice something; the proximity you have right now to your people is inherent to the pace at which your heart beats.

I left my home, and I did so to recognize something I decided to trust; my potential was closely linked to the person I am around people who are smarter than me and in situations that make me slightly uncomfortable.  Having felt underutilized and headed towards a mediocre version of myself, I followed an opportunity that I knew would put me in those two circumstances.

That’s a longer conversation, but it’s hugely based on my perception of the best decisions I’ve made in my life.  Each one was a decision to play with better players for stakes I didn’t consider easily attainable.

To uproot a life on those merits inherently under-weights the role your heartfelt relationships deserve in most of your major decisions.  I was an hour from my parents and a walk from my best friends. I was awash in a sea of wonderful people doing incredible things…make no mistake.  Some of the smartest people I know were the ones I spent my free time with each weekend in Chicago.

But my shot at big things happened a different way, and it forced me to sacrifice something dear to the person I think everyone reading this probably knows (or can tell) that I am.

And all I can offer is that it’s very, very hard sometimes.

It’s something you should look around and appreciate, because you have so much more than you realize.

Even when you’re alone.

Cell Phones, Tea, and Grape Nuts

I”m finally starting to notice some subtle differences between Chicago and Vancouver.

I mean, there’s the obvious ones.

There’s that the Blackhawks are a good hockey team.  Before you locals get upset, I’m only half kidding.  And the Americans won’t get that joke anyway.

There’s that St. Patrick’s Day was probably taken very seriously last week, and the NCAA March Madness basketball games were probably on television in all the bars (and condos, for that matter).

It’s not just the sports, though.  It’s not just drinking as a sport (which is how I’d characterize my past St. Patty’s Days).  Actually, drinking as a sport is something Canadians do well, come to think about it.

There are nuances that remind me every day that I’m living not only in a place that’s quite far from the Midwest and Chicago and the suburbs I grew up in, but I’m actually living in a foreign country.

The most obvious clue is that all (like every single one) of the women are gorgeous.  I thought that was kind of a Milan or Prague or FantasyLand thing, but it’s true here.

Then there’s the fact that everything is written in English and in French.  Which strikes me as quite an effort; a country supporting two languages has a lot more work to do, methinks.

Oh, and they drink tea here, from what I’ve found.  Lots and lots of tea.  Lots of coffee too…okay this might be universal at this point, so take it for what it’s worth.  There are less Starbucks than I’d expected, which I can’t say about American cities.

They have amazing coffee here, by the way.  You should come visit.

What’s surprised me the most is how little the stuff that jumps out at me is.

I grabbed some groceries this weekend.  I picked up Grape Nuts, because I have an unhealthy obsession with them (ironic, right?).  They tasted like cardboard.  They actually tweaked Grape Nuts to make them more palatable to Canadians.  What is the world coming to?

The same is true of the international chain restaurants, which I know we’ve all heard.  Slightly different McDonald’s and Subway menus (and way different prices…ugh).  My friends and family will be surprised I’ve even tried fast food here, since I’m not a big fan, but it becomes kind of a novelty outside the States, so I’ve both once.

Drivers here stop for pedestrians.  By that I mean that if you so much as nod towards the road every car on it will stop to wait and see if you’d like to cross.

Oh, did I tell you that I grocery shop at a place call Buy-Low?  I thought it’d be like a Dollar Store that sold food.  Instead it’s kind of a Dollar Store that sells awesome, organic food.  Everything here is organic; I’m still waiting to see a loaf of bread that’s not organic in Vancouver.

Now I’m off to try and figure out a cell phone.

Yeah, I’ve gone without one since January.

Read that again.

Two months without a cell phone.

It’s possible, folks.

I didn’t think so either.

What’s weird about where you live?

Image by Darwin Bell.