My Neighborhood, for real

So, as you might already know by my blog irregularity, I am experiencing a power crisis. I am without electricity. In Canada, we call this “anhydrous” but you might call it any number of things, including inconvenient.

But among other things, it means that I only have electricity between midnight and five in the morning, when I can safely run a power cord to the outlet down the hall without anyone ratting me out to the building manager.


There are those who could bust me. In my hallway, there is a youthful Chinese girl who is carrying on an affair with a man on one of the upper floors, but who doesn’t dare let her father, with whom she lives, know. So, every night about twelve-thirty, I hear her door open and the elevator going up. About three, it comes back down and she goes back to her room.

She’s not about to rat me out for using the power. It’s mutually assured destruction.

When I go out to unplug the apparatus, sometimes I see some unusual things.

It’s four-thirty in the morning. It’s the Downtown Eastside. Of COURSE I see some unusual things.

But among them I do not expect to see an actual scimitar. Apparently, instead of the tai chi ladies who practiced there last year, each dawn is welcomed by an actual, fucking, practicing fucking, samurai.

He’s out on the patio, practicing his moves. I am well aware it should be a katana instead of a scimitar, but what can I say, the man is versatile.

And armed.

Oh, who are the people in my neighborhood. In my neighborhood. In my neigh-bor-hood? Oh, who are the people in my neighborhood. The people that you meet each day?

The samurai has a big sword
Don’t mess with him or you’ll get gored.
He practices each day at dawn
Could skewer you just like a prawn.

‘Cause the Samurai’s a person in my neighborhood.
In my neighborhood.
He’s in my neigh-bor-hood!
A Samurai’s a person in my neighborhood.
A person that I meet each day.

Oh, trysting kids are scaredycats.
Their dad might find out, don’cha kno?
They sneak around, it takes real gumption
They can’t expose me: M. A. Destruction.
Oh, a Samurai’s a person in my neighborhood.
In my neighborhood.
In my neighbrhood.
And the trysting kid’s a person in my neighborhood.
They’re the people that I meet
When I’m walking down the street
They’re the people that I meet each day and, by silent mutual agreement, do not appear to recognize.

11 thoughts on “My Neighborhood, for real

  1. Without power–not “de-hydrated”? Solar and wind is the way to go. Of course you have to have enough batteries to store volts against periods of darkness (September to April in Van.).

    ‘S funny–I was just reading at the Vancouver Samurai’s blog about this freaky chick who sneaks into his corridor dojo last night to plug in an extension cord. He thinks she’s having an affair with the Chinese girl who lives along the hall.

    … We interrupt this comment to bring you a special bulletin…

    We have Raincoaster. We will return her for 25 cents deposit! Otherwise we will keep her in our lighted, heated, air-conditioned home in wine country, unable to leave except for a spot of shopping, some roller blading, and the Farmer’s Market on Saturdays. Each day she will be exposed to blistering heat and merciless UV radiation, except when she pauses at one of the local cafés.

    Send your dontations via PayPal.

  2. practicing fucking…!?! If no matter how big his knife, I would definitely NOT be watching him all night fascinated.

  3. Hi raincoaster. well, power outages are to be expected when you live in the frontier!! :-)

    so, how come your money is all in Canadian dollars eh?

  4. btw it is brutal here. Been here for 48 hours and not only have I been subject to backbreaking labour, but their internet is slow and we have yet to visit a winery or a stables. Just sit around eating food from the farmer’s market, playing on the beach, and drinking gourmet beer. Some fucking vacation.

  5. My boss said we can visit her stables “any night but tonight”. Well actually she said “anyone but Raincoaster”, but we’ll smuggle you in disguised as a horse.

  6. Okay, I’ll take you to a damn winery!! I’m planning tacos for dinner — so maybe Metro can drive us to a winery or two this afternoon (so that I can drink too!)

    I’d like to point out that it’s 11:30 a.m., and you’re still sleeping. If that’s not a vacation, what is?

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