By excuse, I offer up my birthday like some second-rate sacrifice. Though not on the exciting side of things, Bacchus did in fact make his presence felt both on the day of, and the day after, my entrance into my 40th year. (Any of you who wish to offer up the suggestion that I don't look my age may feel free to do so now.)
Wednesday saw me first with Vern at the Rhino, where we caught up with matters important and not so important, played some bubble-hockey (I won, 4 games to 2, thank you kindly), and quaffed steam-whistle until Helen and her friend Roberta joined us.
Then we continued imbibing the amber nectar until we staggered out not so long before closing-time. I managed to cycle home and only cursed one car that dared to get to close.
Thursday, Sue and Brett drove in from Hamilton, which I thought was sweet. Rhino's again (yes, I am one exciting dude). Amazingly, Sue (who not only more or less remembered my b-day) brought presents, something I am still not used to receiving from anyone besides my mum or girl-friend (when such position is filled). Several books and an odd sheet-of rice-paper and Korean writing that somehow looks quite attractive as the newest addition to those objets-d'arts that occupy my yellowing walls.
All of which is a long-winded way of saying, I have not given up on posting regular updates to Shabathawan; matters are delayed, not defunct.
Ahem. Tonight I intend to make my way to Cut and Paste (zine show, at Sneaky Dee's, College and Bathurst, if anyone is interested) after work. It's been a few years since I've been involved in the zine-scene and I'm curious as to what's out there these days.
But (yes) that means a new entry to Shabathawan is unlikely to appear until tomorrow.
I know you're all heart-broken.