Toronto, Canada.

It's always strange to come "home" during halloween season.

You're coming back to enjoy the familiar even though everyone is dressed up like someone else.

I dressed up like my parent's long lost son.

It wasn't a very creative costume, but I think I looked the part.

Atlanta, USA.

Business travel is not as glamourous as it seems.

Travel corporations have learned that small personal touches make the experience more painless. The Hertz car rental company really likes putting your name up in lights. It's almost as if having your name in bold on an LED sign makes you forget that you're paying $300 a day to rent a deathtrap Taurus.

I like the south. The most interesting region of America.

It seems as though every Caucasian male in Georgia is named "Chad". It makes it remarkably easy to remember names. On an entirely different note, I kinda envision everyone in the country named Chad to be named Chad. An entire nation with the same first name.

I start imagining the Hertz car rental facility in my fictitious version of Chad... a thousand LED signs all displaying the name "Chad".

Kinda just like Atlanta.

Chicago, USA

"Join us for an evening with Kevin Federline" says the sign.

"No."

Detroit, USA.

The 26-foot tall Spirit of Detroit statute was dressed in a giant Detroit Tigers jersey by 10:45 this morning as a crowd of about 50 clapped and cheered outside the Coleman A. Young Municipal Center.

"This is just huge," said Lori Gerstenberg of Harrison Twp., who attended the ceremony with her mother, daughter and three friends. She sported a Brandon Inge jersey and her headband featured striped tiger ears. "Everything happens in Detroit!"

Paws, the Tigers mascot, revved up the crowd by dancing and pumping his fists in the air.
"Eat 'em up, Tigers!" responded the fans. "Eat 'em up!"

Then, someone shot Paws in the throat.

He stumbled back, made an 'arms-in-the-air' gesture to the crowd which either indicated cheering or dying... tried in vain to reach for his concealed 9mm pistol... and then he fell forward, impaling himself on the golden baseball bat meant to celebrate Detroit's return to the World Series.

Now here's the funny thing... the audience didn't react. They didn't notice. It was almost as if they'd see it before. Ms. Gerstenberg continued to light her crackpipe as she walked back into her hubcapless hoopty. The gentleman with the tattoo on his neck that simply said "Kill" did not flinch and he continued to make grandiose gestures of celebration as he pursesnatched.

A nice young fellow by the name of "J-Dolla" decided to offer the kind people a discount on his product. "Yo! Y'all get THREE biyatches for the price of TWO!!! Yeah YEAH! GO TIGGAS!!!"

Someone quickly discovers that baseball bats in fact CAN be used as effective street weapons.

It's a great time in Detroit.

Chicago, USA.

Supply and demand.

The travel agent suddenly offered a Hawaiian Island cruise for 78% off. It sounded fantastic.

Fifteen days. Five stars. Wow wow wow.

Then we look at the television in the corner.

"Massive Earthquake Destroys Hawaii" screams CNN.

Images of flooded cities, horrible destruction and sad looking tropical beach people.

Hmmm.

This is neither here nor there.

We are definately not going to Hawaii.

Chicago, USA.

Oh my god. It's so cold in this house. Ahhhhh.

I can feel myself dying.

So cold. So cold. AHHHHHH.

Fucking hell.

Wintertime hit me like a bus.

I feel remarkably warm.

Life is crazy.

Chicago, USA.

"The Pirate Queen" is a new musical by the creators of Les Miserables and the producers of Riverdance.

A strange combination that was dictated by demographics it seems. Apparently, when you make a Venn diagram that combines the fans of both shows, the intersect point is massive. This is an example of corporate mathematical analysis leading to artistic results.

I don't consider myself to be a part of the 'intersect' group. I thought Les Miz was brilliant.... but I strongly believe that Michael Flatley and his Riverdance crew should be de-legged.

Anyways.

My parents were in town and we caught this show.

I'm honestly still not sure what it's about, but it wasn't what I thought.

First, I expeceted to see people in eyepatches singing Freddy Mercury songs. Nope.

Then, I expected at least one or two "Aaarghs". Nope.

Not even a single peg leg. Not a single pirate of any consequence.

Just a bunch of songs in minor keys. Suddenly everyone starts Riverdancing.

What the fuck?

Chicago, USA.

You never see the moment of impact coming.

In literature, they call it 'Pathetic Fallacy' when the events in nature mirror the events in the book's storyline.

Apparently, God reads.

The minivan hits me at 70 miles an hour, thrusting me into the truck in front of me.

Goodbye Wanda the Honda.

There's this unique moment of slow motion that happens right before something catastrophic happens. You remember every second before, and almost nothing afterwards.

Yesterday was significant on so many levels.

Exactly one year since I moved to Chicago. The celebration of the end of a long spurt of almost contast travel. The instant realization that it's almost impossible to live a double-life. The final push I needed to toss out the socially awkward human baggage that was holding me down.

Everything became clearer.

I'm lucky to be alive.

San Diego, USA.

A rooftop bar.

A blueberry mojito.

The sand soaked air blowing off the ocean.

The unique desire to release the animals from the Zoo.

You're free, baby. You're free.

Chicago, USA.

There are good weekends, and there are great weekends.

They call this "Indian Summer", when it gets so hot in October that you end up at the beach.

I understand the Summer thing, but why the Indians?

This is why we had to scalp a homeless man.

Ah. The things you almost forget when you're having a good time.

Chicago, USA.

Come on. Give me a sign.