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Saturday, August 6, 2016

Ever Wonder Why Some Dogs Will Sometimes Eat Human Feces? │ Some More 2016 Vancouver Pride Parade Photos

There has been a fair string of consecutive blog posts here where I have had to admit not clearly remembering if I made it to bed before midnight or not, and I find myself in that very pickle this afternoon.

I think that I got to bed prior to the a.m. last night, but I cannot call that a sure thing.

However, I do know that I went to bed while leaving my younger brother Mark passed out in his chair before the low-volumed television.  He never held onto consciousness 10 minutes into the CBC News at 10:00 p.m.

Incidentally, I also cannot define the time when I had my break in solid sleep overnight and took the opportunity to visit the bathroom.

I never sleep well after that ─ it marks the commencement of sleep fragmentation.

I found that my youngest step-son Pote was up when I came downstairs to make my morning's hot beverage.  He would have just recently driven his overnighted girlfriend away in his older brother Tho's car.

And anon, he was to leave to catch his bus to take him to work.

He does so little of anything construable as exercise that twice this week I was reminded of a scrawny old man when I saw him from behind while he was donned in what I suppose are boxer-style shorts that he probably sleeps in.

He's 18.

Those two occasions were the first time the 'scrawny old man' image came to mind ─ I am usually reminded of the physique of some skinny flat-chested girl.

His older 21-year-old brother Tho had begun muscling-up at Pote's age, fast coming to look remarkably brawny; but Pote has no such inclination, evidently.

The morning began with bright sunshine, but soon clouded over.  Nevertheless, towards midday, the sunshine prevailed once again.

I set up a new post at my Siam-Longings website that ought to keep my mornings occupied for several more days before I am ready to publish it.

My eyes take such a beating at this computer ─ this effort has to pay off before too much longer, or my vision will be so impaired that I may find myself unwilling to live with what is happening to me.

I already have too many reasons to bring on that long good-night ─ I don't need an approach to blindness giving me even more encouragement to call it quits on life.

I reported yesterday that just before I began that day's post, I had checked my AdSense account and saw that nothing had yet been accumulated in the balance.  Well, eventually my account managed to accrue 1¢ ere the strike of midnight, so it was not an utter 'goose egg' day.

However, I seem to be in the same boat today ─ there is yet again nothing in today's balance as of my check on it.

Anyway, with the return of sunshine midday, I ventured out into the backyard to benefit from the rays.  Initially, however, it was unseasonably cool, and I sat in my chair facing into the Sun with just my feet bared.

Had I waited just a few minutes more, I would have realized that things were going to get rather toasty out there, but it was by then too late ─ I wasn't going to bother changing into cut-offs or stripping down.

I put in over 40 minutes, beginning my time out there at 12:49 p.m.

Tomorrow I hope to get out and do some shopping of one sort or another.


I want now to post some further photos from the 2016 Vancouver Pride Parade that I attended last Sunday.

As I have said in the previous posts, I am ignorant of the various participants, so I have no descriptions to offer concerning them except to say that the guys in the dog masks were clearly fetishists of an order that I cannot fathom:


This morning I came upon an article purporting to answer various questions concerning dogs ─ I couldn't resist checking the article out based on its title alone; but I can't say that the answers were satisfying.

Frankly, too many of the answers seemed shallow.

But perhaps you'll enjoy it anyway:


My eyes have had it with blogging and similar website-related abuse today, so I am going to close now with an 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 the room in was located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

Normally I worked one day a week ─ Friday ─  at a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that today calls itself Fraserside Community Services Society.  I worked as a truck swamper on S.A.N.E.'s blue pick-up truck.

However, when I reported in on the past Friday, I was told that the driver ─ Esther St. Jean, a dear woman in her early 40s ─  had taken the truck on a trip 'up country,' and I was asked to come in on this day (a Wednesday) instead.

In those early years, S.A.N.E. was located in one of a string of buildings on Carnarvon Street right where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station now empties out onto that street.
WEDNESDAY, August 6, 1975

I was full awake close after 6:00 a.m.

I have been trying to compose something profound for Cathy's birthday, but I keep failing.

Looks like a sunny day; but then, it usually is on my workdays.

On my way to S.A.N.E. I shall mail for my space blanket.

At S.A.N.E. I discovered the truck was on the blink at Esther's, not starting; so some of the group went with her to see if they could remedy it.

I went to Army & Navy, buying for a total of $5.03 a pair of cheap but presentable shoes.

Back at S.A.N.E. I killed time out back with Bill Sevenko till he eventually left.

Around noon I took my lunch break, the truck having shown up.

At Safeway I bought Empress peanut butter, a 2-qt. carton of milk, and a large box of Special K which was involved in my lunch.  Just before getting home I saw a stacked blonde garbage collector.

I returned to S.A.N.E. before 1:00 p.m., but the truck had gone.  So as before, I sat on the back steps, occasionally checking for the truck.

It returned, and I continued my sunny sit, finally checking and finding it gone again.

Fed up with doing nothing, further wasting the day, I left about 3:00 p.m.

At just about 4:30 p.m. came knocking; it was either Art or S.A.N.E., for a truck was idling outside.

After exercising, my lusts won out fully at 6:50 p.m.  If God won't let me win a fortune, why can't He slim me properly and beautify my skin, for then I might have the self-esteem to resist this vileness!  

By 8:15  p.m. I shall be in bed.

May God relieve me of my situation!

I aroused about 8:50 p.m. to Bill's persistent knocking; he was elated about us being invited over to Mark's to play cards; I was influential in our not buying any beer.

Nothing special occurred, but I did not return to bed till about 1:30 a.m.; anyway, I was able to pick up the Toronto Olympic lottery address I wanted.  I had 1 beer.  
"Cathy" was my younger brother Mark's girlfriend ─ Catherine Jeanette Gunther.  Her birthday was a long ways off yet ─ quite late in September.

I had bought a money order the day before to send away for the space blanket.

It doesn't sound like I did a darned thing at work that day, and no one seemed to be filling me in on the comings and goings of the truck.

Army & Navy department store was fairly close ─ a few blocks away, perhaps.

And so was Safeway, but in a different direction from S.A.N.E.

"Bill Sevenko" must have been my co-swamper at that time.  I have mentioned working with "Bill" in a number of previous entries, but I never before gave his last name.

But even so, I have no memory at all of the chap.  I sense that he was likely a fair bit older than I was.  Some searching reveals that a William Sevenko died in New Westminster in 1988 at the age of 66 ─ was that likely him?

Another thing I do not remember is walking home for my lunch breaks ─ I frequently wrote of doing so.

Yet after returning to S.A.N.E. after lunch that day and still not having any work to do, I finally dismissed myself and went home for the day.

I tended not to be at all social, so I rarely answered my door.  Art Smith was in his early 40s, and also worked part-time at S.A.N.E.  We had grown close, but he too often imposed his will upon me and would keep me at his home late into the night so he could have someone to drink with ─ even though he was married and had three kids.

So if it was him knocking at the door, I most definitely would not have answered.  

But if it was the S.A.N.E. truck finally wanting me to help with a collection or delivery, or maybe even a sudden small moving job...well, how could I know?  It was not worth the risk of answering the door and finding Art there.

Still, perhaps I was also disinclined to suddenly start working when my day had been wasted as it was.  I had gone to S.A.N.E. in good faith, only to be virtually ignored insofar as updates were concerned.

Thus, I ignored the knocking.

Awhile later, I exercised.  And then "my lusts won out fully at 6:50 p.m."  In other words, I fell prey to release via a pornographic magazine.

My visitor after I had gone to bed early that evening was my old friend William Alan Gill.  He had a special knock, and was also not shy about calling out to me.

It seems that my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Jeanette had invited us over to play cards at their home in Whalley ─ they rented a home together that was located on Bentley Road, not too far at all from 108th Avenue & King George Highway. 

I cannot understand why I was reluctant to let Bill buy any beer to take over with us.  Perhaps I was concerned that it would lead to an unwanted late night?
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