I am hunched yet again over my dandy keyboard having obtained some prime real estate at the local Java Hut. My mind is pressed up tightly with odd thoughts about snow and life and hot apple cider. How can you not be cozy on a flakey March evening, punched loosely away from the usual drone of life in a bachelor suite?
Its not busy here at all.
For those concerned that my thoughts have long drifted from the graceful arts of a story untold, I will pause to reassure: N’er a moment has passed when those trickling stews have not been gently cooking on some backburner of my brain. Alas, if I am ever able to find more than 2 free moments in a row, I shall venture to churn more fiction from some distant perspective.
For now, however, I am pondering other blissful realities and waiting for enlightenment which sometimes seems a few wiggles out of reach. As you may have noticed the vote was cast and neither Chris nor I attended this evenings cooking event. Just as well: I don’t know if I was really in the mood. There are many reasons for this, and rest assured that they are all slightly valid. Together they amount to an excuse and pardon wrapped into one.
The news this morning – the rattle that drives an annoying spike slowly into my consciousness to faithfully pull me from sleep and out of bed each morning – was talking about buses. Two factors were involved: One, the bus fares are going up from $1.75 to $2.00 leaving many confused and jaded. I don’t care really. I don’t bus enough that a few more cents is going to put me in financial ruin. Second, there was the issue of the trolley buses. Anyone who has looked into the air while walking the main streets of Vancouver might have noticed that many of the buses here are run on suspended electric trolley cables. Those same people, having ridden the buses will have noticed that said buses are old and need to be replaced. This has not gone unnoticed by the bus company who is considering replacing the whole fleet. The question: keep the trolley buses which are more expensive, or replace with them with diesel monsters? In other words, air pollution or “visual” pollution in the form of nasty wires all over the place? I think the answer will lie in the essence of this city: we did invent Greenpeace after all.