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Sunday, July 31, 2016

A Rare Visit to Vancouver to Watch the 2016 Pride Parade

This is the third consecutive day in which I have not seen a cent accumulated in my AdSense balance.

Aren't I the successful Internet presence!

I made it to bed well ahead of midnight last night, nurturing the intention of trying to get in to Vancouver this morning to see the 2016 Pride Parade.

I got to sleep well enough.  But a little ahead of 2:00 a.m. I was disturbed by the sound of my eldest step-con Tho in the upstairs bathroom ─ it shares a wall with my bedroom.

The 21-year-old has been warned before that no one is to be showering after midnight, but I guess the prick was too drunk to care.

I tried to ignore the sounds, but my anger surmounted my efforts.

When finally he was done, I was so agitated that I rose and came here to my computer to work on the old post I've been editing since Tuesday at my website My Retirement Dream.

But I also took a sheet of paper and ─ in big red letters ─ wrote the following:


I left that on the bathroom mirror for him.

When I see him in person, I'm going to further warn that the next time he or his younger brother Pote wake me up in the night because someone just can't wait until the morning to have a shower, then I'm going to come into the bathroom and haul out whosever naked ass is responsible. 

Tho will just have had another bloody shower after he got up today anyway ─ why the hell is it so damned important to wake me up at 2:00 a.m. so he can have a pre-bedtime shower?

I went back to bed about two hours after I was first awakened, but I never slept well thereafter.

Still, when I rose at some point prior to 8:00 a.m., I was still considering that long haul into Vancouver via the SkyTrain.

First, though, I did a little more work on that old post at My Retirement Dream while I enjoyed my morning's hot beverage, but the work still is not finished.

Then as I readied for my venture, I breakfasted on a tomato and a peach.

Meantime, my youngest step-son Pote rose, for he would be leaving to catch his bus for work later in the morning.

My younger brother Mark came home while I was in my bedroom with the door closed, busy getting dressed.  He had spent the night at his girlfriend Bev's home.

While he was showering, I slipped away and commenced the mile-long hike to the King George SkyTrain Station.

I have not used the SkyTrain since it adopted a Compass Card and Compass Ticket fare system.

I'm a senior, so I figured out that I only needed to pay $1.75 to get into Vancouver by taking advantage of the so-called Concession fare.  On weekends, the zone system is not in force, so a person only pays for a single zone and not three as would have been the case during the week.

However, after I bought my Compass Ticket and went up to the train and boarded, I had time to contemplate that ticket.  And I became aware that it was somehow supposed to have been activated.

I rode to the next station ─ Surrey Central ─ and disembarked, and went downstairs to where the ticket machines were.  I still could not quite understand how I was to activate the ticket, but then two women ahead of me just slapped their ticket against a blue circle marked 'Compass,' and that seemed to be all there was to it.

I did the same, and came back upstairs to await the next train.

I rode it as far as the Burrard Station

And from there, I hiked along Melville Street to Bute Street, and then turned left and headed up Bute Street to Robson Street. 

This Google map may help anyone wholly unfamiliar with downtown Vancouver.

I'm unsure how far down Robson Street I hiked ─ definitely past Nicola Street, but I'm not sure if I went much farther.  I had found a pretty decent curbside spot to stand amongst the throngs lining Robson awaiting the start of the parade.

Supposedly the parade commenced at noon at Bute and Robson, and was to last until 3:00 p.m.  However, it was over and I was headed back to the SkyTrain by 2:50 p.m. at latest.

I had thought that it would be nice to go to where the Pride Festival at Sunset Beach would be kicking off, but I was drained by the parade's end ─ all that standing in one spot in a pair of boots.

I had trouble working my legs on the walk back.

I  had even thought that I might drop in on my wife Jack at Mango Thai Restaurant, but it closes from 3:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m.

The restaurant was just too far over for me to care to hike to and risk Jack being away.

Besides, it was getting on ─ home was a long way.

And the toes of my right foot were unpleasantly sore from being stuffed into the end of my boot.

I would have loved to have been able to buy a couple of cheap beers somewhere ─ I was very thirsty.  And I had not used a bathroom since I left home no later than 10:30 a.m., I would say.

To be honest, the haul back here to home was a dreary ordeal.

But at least now I understand how to buy and use a Concession Compass Ticket.  Maybe I'll make more weekend forays in the future ─ $1.75 as a senior is quite tolerable.

By the way, Justin Trudeau was near the front of the parade.  I didn't initially realize it, and only managed to snap off one photo ─ alas, most of his face is obscured.

Also, I took too many photos without employing the zoom feature; but I was afraid that zooming would result in blurred images.  From the ones that I have in which I did use zoom, I see now that I was wrong about that fear.  They're good.

I also got bored with taking photos after awhile ─ there was just too much of the same thing.  In fact, I hardly took any photos during the last hour.  Making matters worse was the fact that the first camera I was using ran out of memory, but I didn't realize it ─ I kept thinking I was snapping photos until I realized that I had been wasting my time.

I'm unsure just when I made it back home ─ maybe 4:30 p.m., give or take 15 minutes?  I honestly don't know.  But Tho was gone ─ he'd clearly seen the note, for it had been taken down and was attached to the toilet. 

It's going to take me far too long to upload my parade photos to a Google album ─ thus, I won't be including any in this post.


I might as well close out today's post with this entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

The house I was renting in was located on Ninth Street, at Third Avenue.

My mother Irene Dorosh and her husband Alex had gone on a trip 'back East' for about two weeks, so I was trying to check in at their home on a daily basis ─ it happened to be my main mailing address.

The house no longer exists, but its address in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey was 12106 - 90th Avenue.  I would walk there from my room in New Westminster ─ it would take about 1½ hours at a fast pace ─ and then walk back home later on.
THURSDAY, July 31, 1975

I was up not too much after 6:30 a.m., feeling stiff and sore, and sleepy, though sleep at that point was difficult to get.

I recall a dream.

One part began while I was hunting salamanders in a ditch beside a wood.  I had a radio, and 2 dogs.  A great splashing erupted as something fell out of the bush; and there in the ditch a short way from me sat a huge cougar.  I was most fearful, and neither dog made a move.  The animal stared at me, and I slowly reached for the radio, turning it up full.  I even searched with the dial for a loud station, but this ploy seemed futile.  I do not know what befell.

Another part is less clear; snatches include a bickering older couple, me loving the form of a stimulating woman who looked like Susan Oliver, and a group of busybodies who rushed away from the home of a doomed crony trapped by a cougar in her bedroom.

I plan to mail my corn flakes sweepstakes entry before stopping in at David's, if able, and leave a note; then on to my welfare appointment.

It was a breeze; all I did was sign the incentive contract, as expected; I left elated.

Anyway, before leaving home, I spent much time barbering my scalp.

I did get to see David awhile; he has a place, apt. #115 or 117 at 110 - 10th St., I believe.  The news was pure relief.

I left with 3 pocket books, promising to try to visit him the week-end.

Going over the bridge, Mark honked at me, coming into town with the family.

Toward Townline, I saw a very well defined fellow pushing a wheelbarrow.

The  parcel I had to pick up was Cathy's griddle.

At mom's I sat and ate the entire cold stew I cooked Tuesday, then finished off my Cotton Candy ice-cream, about ¾s of a pint or more.  I overate cause there were so many clouds in the sky, I didn't feel it worthwhile sunning.

But when I was stuffed, the sky cleared.

I lied down from about 3:00 p.m. - 6:30 p.m. getting some sleep.

I exercised quite fully.

I have yet to hear the Western Lottery winners, as the preliminary draw wasn't televised.

I headed home at 10:00 p.m., getting in some running.

I was somewhat in the mood, and had a fabulous release about 12:56 a.m. with July's Lesbos scene.

Bed at 1:00 a.m.   
Concerning those dreams, I think I must have meant actress Susan Oliver ─ I can't even say now that I remember the actress.

I worked just a day a week through an employment incentives programme in place between my employer and New Westminster social services.

I had received a mailing from the latter directing me to keep an appointment on this day, and it had me a little uneasy.  However, as I had hoped, it was merely to have me sign a contract of continuance in the programme.

Philip David Prince was an old friend I had known since the two of us were in Grade VIII at Newton Junior High School out in Surrey during the 1962/1963 school term.

He was living in New Westminster now, and had left me a note a couple of evenings before requesting that I visit him, and indicating that he was hoping I would allow him to stay with me temporarily because everyone in the rooming house he was renting in had been given notices to vacate.

I did not want this at all ─ dear David was something of a slob, and he could be insufferable.  There was no way that I could have tolerated him full-time.

So it was a huge relief to hear that he had found himself alternate accommodations.  

Following my brief visit with David, I then headed out to my mother's home in Surrey ─ it was my younger brother Mark who honked at me as he drove over the Pattullo Bridge into New Westminster.

With him were his girlfriend and her two young daughters.

I remember that well-built fellow pushing the wheelbarrow ─ he was working in his yard near to 96th Avenue (Townline Road).

I had a parcel to collect in the postal substation of a pharmacy at the Townline shopping centre at 96th Avenue & Scott Road ─ it was a special sort of griddle for Mark's girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther ─ her birthday was a long ways off, but I was thinking ahead.

I stayed fairly late at my mother's home before heading on back to New Westminster.

And then once home, I became excessively engaged with a July pornographic magazine that proved to be an unusually intense experience.
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