Only if you've signed up at the school of hard knocks.

Up in the sky, or deep under the ground, it's still......Skytrain! And it's actually pretty good, all things considered.

But, what's a weekend without some nuts, huh? Beware! Beware! The Black Hole's comin' ta getcha!

O.K., even for an omnivore (but, 99% veg), this sign is just so incredibly wrong! Still, if it were to come up for sale (and, given that the building to which it's attached will very likely be knocked down in the next couple of years, it very well could be), I'd be tempted to pay big bucks to acquire it. Lucky me, though - I don't have any big bucks. Dang.

If you're looking for a good movie to go see, try "Honeydripper". Yeah, it's a tad earnest (come on - it's a John Sayles movie, after all!), but it's earnest for darn good reasons. And the music is great!

Yep. This is about as busy as this joint gets.

Gotta love empty parking lots. Especially when they're lit by fluorescent lights. Ever so warm and inviting. Not to mention useful.

Hokey-smokey! This is actually yesterday's post! And yet, it comes after today's! (O.K. - enough exclamation marks for you?) How could this happen? Possibly the result of a thrust fault?

(I'm tellin' ya - the paleontological humour is just running crazy tonight!)

It's a paleontological joke.

Oh, sure - it's just a shot of a parking lot light. Sure. That's what you think. To me, this is the light that nearly killed me. I was walking along, looking up at it, trying to decide whether or not to take a picture, and, if so, just how, when the ground dropped out from in front of me. Ever done that? You take a step, in all innocence, fully expecting the ground to be there when your foot touches down, except that it's not. It's a good eight inches lower than where every fibre of your being was expecting it to be. And, when your foot does finally make contact, it jolts every bone in your body. I think I must be shorter now by at least half an inch. I could feel my vertebrae crunching and compressing. So, naturally, after surviving that assassination attempt, I had to photograph the culprit.

Of course, it looks like it's saying, "Wha'd I do? I'm innocent, I tell ya!"

At some point in time, lines seem to have been a big thing in architecture.

No hookers here. Just a stretch of East Hastings where there's nothing upscale, nothing down-scale, nothing much at all, really. Kind of "Nobody's Land". Barred doors and real comfy looking benches.

Numbers, reflections, upside down worlds...Yep, gotta be a political connection of some sort, right? Go see "The Counterfeiters".

Of course, that was then. Things are much better now, right?

Sometimes it's the simple plans that work best, don't you think?

I've got to say, one of the things I'm enjoying about wandering around the somewhat less up-scale parts of town is bumping into people I never would otherwise. My route from here was toward camera left, which was back toward downtown. This building's on the east side of town, in what I suppose would be called a "light industrial" area - warehouses, small manufacturing companies, car repair... And hookers. Yep - hookers. As I wandered along, looking for something to photograph, I noticed up ahead, standing - you guessed it - one each on two successive street corners, two women, obviously not waiting for a bus. Now, I'm kind of a shy, reclusive type, so my first impulse was to find an intervening side street, or alley, or something(!) that I could dodge down so I could avoid them. And then my curiosity voice kicked in. "What can happen?" it asked. And it was right... "How are you?" asked the first one. "I'm O.K., how about you?" I replied as I strolled by. "Fine," she said, following with, "You want a blow-job?" "Nah, I'm O.K., thanks" I replied, ever the polite guy. "Aw, come on," she said with a smile, "Help a girl out." To which there really was no reply, so I just waved and kept on walking. What was I going to do? Give her a good education and a good job? Seemed like a nice enough person, though. Which is the key thing after all.

The other undoubtedly nice lady had disappeared by the time I got to her corner. Duty called, I suppose.

A Vancouver landmark. The Dominion Building. And, to your right, ladies and gentlemen, another Vancouver landmark. One the name of which (the official name, that is) I've forgotten. It used, however, to be known as Needle Park, 'cause, if you were a junkie, well.... Not quite so much now. Notice the streetlight that the guy nearest me is about to walk in front of. Over the street, a normal streetlight. Pointing to camera right, however, into the park, a nice, big floodlight. Don't want no untoward activity taking place there under cover of darkness, after all. It's a nice little urban oasis now.

Last night I watched, "William Eggleston in the Real World". Go rent it.

I've loved this guy's work since the late 70s when it really first started showing up in the big world. I can still remember his shot of shoes under his bed (or somebody's bed) from an issue of "American Photographer" - people were peeeeeeeeved! Shoes under a bed?!? Funnily enough, that was about the last time I ever saw his work until recently, when I started to get interested in taking pictures again. Evidently, however, it kinda stuck with me. Either that or (except for the "talent" part), Eggleston and I are just similar in our photographic interests. Watching him working in the movie was a bit like watching myself.

The movie also has something to say to the equipment freaks out there. Throughout, he was either using what looked like an Olympus OM-1 (though it might have been a Pentax MX), or (I think) some sort of old Mamiya press camera with a 120 roll film back. O.K., at one point he was using a Contax autofocus snapshot camera, but... And he didn't do digital. He also used a hand-held meter occasionally - a very, very cheap one.

Go buy "William Eggleston's Guide". It's cheap. It's great. You'll like it.

I really don't get out enough, so it's nice to have friends who will occasionally drag me somewhere new. This is a nice place to grab a double espresso and some sort of snack after an afternoon's wander across town. If you're in Vancouver, that is.

By the way, how are sales of this John Hiatt CD doing in New York? I figure they oughta be booming. It is, after all, a darn fine CD. Oh, yeah - and topical. (Yeah, I know - it's a link for Amazon in Canada, but I figger all you Yanquis oughta be able to figure it out, eh?)

Every photographer in Vancouver has shot this motel. It's a remnant of the 50s, lingering in the middle of town. It really shouldn't be there - it should have been knocked down and converted to condos or a mini-mall ages ago. Imagine my feelings - I really wanted to take a photograph of it, but, well, gees - it's been done. And done. And done. Rats. So I took its reflection instead.

Don't you wish you lived in one of these luxury apartments? Right beside the off-ramp for one of the busiest bridges (at rush hour on a weekday, anyway) in town.

And here's where politicians cut and run. The quotes from Mr. Wright in this story don't seem particularly out of line to me. 9/11 a result of decades of U.S. foreign policy? Well, of course. Does anyone actually doubt that? America an arms exporter? Oh, golly, no. Racist? Ever heard of being arrested for "driving while black"? And let's leave out the number of dead Iraqis, shall we? Not to mention Guantanamo. Frankly, Mr. Wright seems a tad restrained.

Don't get me wrong, though. Obama needs to get elected before he can begin changing any of these things. So, yep, he's gotta pull away from Mr. Wright. Publicly, anyway.

And, this just in - I don't post comments from schmoes named "Anonymous". Sign it or shut it.

So, I've been watching episodes of "House" on DVD lately - gotta love Hugh Laurie as a cranky diagnostic genius - and it's, um, well, entertaining at least. But, I've got a question. You see, a few years back, I had a very close friend who was going to med school. And, naturally, I got to meet lots of other med students through her. Not to mention getting to hear lots and lots and lots of med school stories. Weirdly, I never heard a single one, though, about their class in "Basic Breaking and Entering". My pal brought home lots of new medical tools - stethoscope, ophthalmoscope, reflex hammer....but never did she turn up with a crowbar or a lock picking tool kit. Really, I'd have remembered. So, why is it that every episode - at least, in season 2 - of "House" involves the team of dedicated young docs going off to break into some patient's house? Is this some uniquely American diagnostic technique?

Speaking of obscure, look closely at the fine print in the photo.

It's just a dry cleaning establishment. No cracks about Eliot Spitzer to go with it. Heck no.

No, it's not Eliot Spitzer's bus out of town. Although, he could have bought at least a couple of these (maybe for his next campaign?) for the price of an hour with his little "friend". And, I so wish there was an itemized bill for that. I mean, what could anyone do for someone that's worth $4,500.00 per hour? Open heart surgery? Not that expensive. Toss in complementary champagne, a luxury car to and from the "party", a new suit and a haircut - it still ain't gonna come to $4,500.00! I guess I'll have to go into politics to find out for sure. Dang.

And, once again, serendipity works its magic. Yep, lillies. Which, it seems to me, are a fairly common choice at funerals. Like the one that will soon be held for Eliot Spitzer's political career. Gees, what a dolt.

However, on a more celebratory note, there's this story. The writer emphasizes the victory of a Democrat in a once solidly Republican land, but that's missing the point. The guy's a physicist! A scientist! He's not a religious crackhead spouting crap about the world being created in seven days and, for that matter, that it's flat! He's intelligent! He's actually aware of Galileo, Newton, and Darwin! In fact, he's probably aware of Einstein, Feynman, Weinberg, Glashow and Maynard Smith. Among others. He actually lives in the 21st century. Unlike his President.

Isn't it sad when the landscaping budget runs out too soon?

As you've probably guessed, this is a reflection. In water. A puddle, to be precise. So, you can imagine how many associations I can make between it and this story from the New York Times. But, of course, it's more fun for you to it yourself, right? (O.K., I can't resist giving hints. Try working with "reflection", "illusion", "ephemeral" - you get the idea) I mean, Bush comes out and says (again), "Hey, torture's the American way!" and this guy interprets it as Bush cementing his legacy of fighting for strong executive powers?!?

There was, by the way, a good article in the New Yorker a week or so ago discussing America's use of waterboarding during their little contretemps in the Philippines early in the 20th century, for all you history buffs out there. Conservative motto: "If it was good enough for my granddaddy, it's good enough for me."

Ah, once more at the PNE. Tough place to get into, though.

O.K., maybe a teeny bit of extra saturation, but not much. Some folks just like brightly-coloured paint.

Ah, planning. It doesn't always work out, does it? This place has been empty for at least a couple of years now. A very expensive error. Or con job. The building, that is. What genius decided that a high-end retail mall would be a success in the heart of Vancouver's Downtown Eastside? Say "Oops", boys and girls.

Yeah, and you all thought I lived in some quiet West Coast town with nothing much happening.

Meanwhile, Hillary seems to have bounced back. With, maybe, a little help (ill-intended, I'm sure) from someone else's friends. Of course, we all believe Smirkin' Steve's denials. Just like we believe he didn't try to bribe a soon-to-be-dead MP with a million dollar life insurance policy. The Smirk?!? Do something so heinous?!? Naaaaahhhhhh........

Isn't life exciting?

It must be from being a biologist. That this strikes me as ridiculous, that is. The notion that one's ancestry has anything to do with who one is is, to put it mildly, ludicrous. Provincial, if you'd like a more polite term. My ancestry, on my father's side, is Irish. On my mother's, it's English. Were ancestry destiny, I should be severely schizophrenic (Yeah, yeah - I know - "schizophrenic" doesn't mean "split personality"). Half of me should want to kill the other half.

But, I grew up in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. Along with kids whose ancestries were Polish, Italian, Ukranian, French, German... Yep, it was a pretty much European mix, but, again, were ancestry destiny, we all should have been at war. We weren't. Except, maybe, with regard to music. I was Jefferson Airplane oriented.

My DNA is 99.9999999999999% identical to someone of African, Chinese, Russian, Indonesian - you name it - ancestry. Everyone on this planet is descended from someone who originally lived in Africa. Get over it, folks. Where you grew up is who you are.

And, on a sort of tangential connection, another lying dimwit greedhead bites the dust. Outed by her own sister, no less! Where do these people come from? Other than, in this case, a rich, white, Christian neighbourhood, that is. Next week, what do you want to bet, she'll be on "Oprah", tearfully apologizing for her folly. And looking for a new book contract for her "true" memoir, "I'm Another Rich, Dumb Liar Looking for Money by Posing as Someone I'd Never Want to Be in My Worst Nightmare - Someone Poor, That Is.".

For some reason a cat that seems to be waving good-bye is a good luck symbol in a lot of Japanese restaurants. This isn't a Japanese restaurant, however. It's.....um....well, to be honest, I'm not sure what this place is. Other than the previously-pictured School of Hypnosis. Squirrel hypnosis, at that. So, a "bye-bye" kitty? I just dunno.

The glowing building in the background, however, is a place where folks whose luck has gone bye-bye often wind up. If they're lucky. Paradox - what a thing!

Do you like Chet Baker? For the answer to that question, go see "The Band's Visit", a heck of a fine little movie. Try it. You'll really like it.

What's it got to do with this photograph? Well, not a lot, really. Other than the fact that the photo is pretty darn simple - a pole, a wall, some shadows based on that pole. So's the movie. Simple, that is, as opposed to based on shadows from poles. Now, shadows from the past, well, those are part of the movie. And the way they can sometimes create insurmountable boundaries.