The gem who owns / runs The Artery is named Phil and right now he has a couple of bands on his rooftop of course singing and playing and of course it is perfect.

What a sweet summer night.

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What does it mean when a good-looking woman wears high-waisted leopard print short shorts?

The question is rhetorical.

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Guys I guess TIN sold out Sunday which was forever [four days] ago. I mean the venue is a small one but still extra chill that my girlfriend’s team sold out all the seats early Sunday AKA on the third day of the ten day run.

Plus VueWeekly mentioned TIN as one of their picks for best shows at the festival.


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Why is there a CBC film crew in the meat section of Family Foods on Jasper Avenue?

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There is just that about Toronto, though, and isn’t there, and yes there is.

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Okay so my girlfriend is now pushing through her third year producing / directing a play here at the Edmonton Fringe festival and the play is called TIN and it takes place in a big ass metal shipping container in the middle of the grounds and you can watch a quick teaser here. They filmed the teaser right here in the river valley. Love that. Anyways the play is sixty percent sold out as of four hours before the first show. Huge compliment there. Affectionate fist bumps. Maybe check it out before it’s gone away forever.

Just saying / not saying.

Otherwise I’ll see you at the closing party.

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Got to see Mr. Mysterious Egg Producer himself live at Interstellar Rodeo and he was just a buttload of phenomenal.

(Source: greyvette)

Reblogged from musadiluna with 7 notes / permalink

People who like their own photographs on Instagram don’t seem to realize that posting the damn photograph signals you’ve already approved the image / moment / whatever.

Strong on that narcissistic dickhead game.

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This is a very short story called Perhaps it ought not to do a thing that ends in dying. The only thing I changed was the name of the big guy. It was told to me by the big guy when I worked with him at a paint store in downtown Edmonton. The guy worked in the warehouse behind the paint store and we sometimes worked together.


I once worked with a man named Lesser Cakes. Six foot six, two hundred and eighty pounds and he shaved his head. He wore overalls and of course no shirt. Biggest bubba ever. A slightly wrinkled eye, and a bright blue one, and something approaching intelligence glowing dim in the back of both. What he lacked in intelligence he made up for in work ethic, and he had a sense of humour like a barrel rolling down a steel ramp, big, loud, unstoppable. His heart was bigger than the entire apartment I rented back then on 124 Street.

I learned the hard way how to do things right, he told me, and he said, I used to cheat on all my girlfriends. With their friends or sometimes with prostitutes. He shook his head. But then there was this one girl. Body like a brick house. She was more than that, though. I bought her a ring. You know? And then I kept finding out she was good times for a couple other guys. Even one of my friends. I mean like after her and me were official. Man, we had even moved in together. She tried to lead me on a bit, I guess, stuff like, I want to make it work, and other stuff, too. Couldn’t blame her, still can’t. But it was an easy bet she needed a place to live, though, as why she wanted to make up. She didn’t have a lot of money. But neither did I. Man, though, I dumped her and it’s been like years and years and it burns. It still burns. Cakes tapped his chest. Fist the size of an armadillos surprised by coyotes. He said, So I’ve been faithful ever since. I’m telling you. I regret my ways. And my new girl? We’re getting married, I guess. But I still think about the old one sometimes. I see her around a bit. She works in the bar at the Ramada in Kingsway. Moved into a place with some guy a few blocks down from me, too. Heard she’s starting to run around on him, too, when he’s not in town. She’s got a bit of a mouth, always makes fun of me when she sees me. Guess I lucked out finding out all that bad stuff before we got married. But I gotta say some days I don’t feel lucky. He shook his head again. Sometimes I just feel sad.

Cakes quit six months later. I got fired a year after that. This was all a long time ago. I was talking about him to my old boss the other day and the man said, For God’s sake, his name was Lester. Get it right.

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I’m in precious territory now

I wasn’t before and I was undiscovered

see my bloody hands they were torn in falls

but my name is known and yes I am loved

or end with riding off into sunsets

no richer dream pause here than happily ever after

or as those who know who have known regret

the end’s but the start of another endless chapter.

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