Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Photo Gallery: Lonesome Creepy - Victoria at Night

My contentious relationship with the sun was established on a summer day in Kelowna, BC when I was four years old and overheated to the point of having a seizure.  My memory prior to the seizure is vague; we were at the now-shuttered Kelowna Grand Prix "family fun centre" and so all I recall is seeing a row of refrigerator-sized arcade games before the brown patterned carpet rushed up at me.  However, my post-seizure memory - waking up in hospital a tub of ice - is still vivid and I have spent my life since then avoiding the possibility of a repeat performance, and thus the sun, whenever possible.  You could say I'm a bit of a night owl.

While this means I'm useless at the beach and in the early morning, it does allow me to see a different side of the world around me, a perspective my Lonesome Creepy galleries are aimed at capturing.  In this particular batch of photos, I've decided to focus on one particular location - my home of Victoria, BC.  Seeing the city at night has given me a deeper appreciation for a place many people - myself included - dismiss as picturesque but bland.

Many, if not all, of the below photos have appeared on my Instagram feed, albeit in cropped form under the tag #yyjatnight. If you're on IG, please feel free to use that tag and show off your own view of night time in BC's capital.

Click here to find and follow me on Instagram.  

All photos taken with an iPhone 5s

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Legs, Eggs, and

Once upon a time this blog was devoted entirely to restaurant reviews and so, every now and again, I would opine at great length on the subject of eateries in the Victoria and Vancouver areas.  One such establishment was Paul’s Place Omelettery, a Vancouver breakfast spot I wrote about on June 21, 2010 seven short months after Largely the Truth went online.  In the four years since then, thoughts of the review had drifted completely away from the waking part of my mind into the unreachable ultraviolet range of consciousness where hides such apocrypha as “where I left my keys” and “every book I have ever read.”

Then, in May, nearing the end of a road trip spanning some 2800 miles and fifteen states, I awoke in my Hyannis, Massachusetts hotel to find I’d received an e-mail from  The Besty is a new site which encourages bloggers to create and share lists of the best restaurants in their cities and elsewhere.  In February I had contributed a list of Waikiki hotspots culled from a recent visit and something about my hodgepodge of pizza joints and ice cream parlors must have caught their eye, because the email I received on that Cape Cod morning advised me a video using material drawn from my review of Paul’s Place had gone online.

That video is embedded below.  Though it may not contain every Julianne Moore metaphor I have used, it certainly has my favorite.

Thanks to everyone at for reading and supporting Largely the Truth! 

P.S – Though things have slowed down for me on the blogging front you can still find me on Twitter and, my newest obsession, Instagram:

Monday, March 31, 2014

"Charlie Wenjack", by Willie Dunn

Most Canadians are at least passingly familiar with the long horror story that was our Indian Residential Schools.  For those of you not familiar with the subject, I recommend reading the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation's "A history of residential schools in Canada", which does a better job of summarizing the situation than I ever could.

Recently, while discussing the issue with a friend I wanted to show them the text to singer/songwriter Willie Dunn's song "Charlie Wenjack", which tells the tragically short story of the boy of the same name.  The lyrics could not easily be found online and so I thought I would reprint it here so more people would have a chance to appreciate it.

If there's a copyright holder out there who stumbles onto this and has an issue with it, please keep in mind this is entirely to help keep a small part of Dunn's work accessible; no one's making any money here.

Wawatay News has an audio file of Dunn (who died in October 2013) singing the song, so if you'd like to listen to it while you read, click here to open that link in a new window.

The following is reprinted verbatim from my copy of Ward Churchill's "Kill the Indian, Save the Man", which, if you have any interest in learning more about the residential schools, is an excellent resource:

Charlie Wenjack

(Who died in 1966, aged twelve, running away from an Indian residential school near Kenora, Ontario, trying to get back to his father and his people)

Walk on, little Charlie
Walk on through the snow.
Heading down the railway line,
Trying to make it home.
Well, he's made it forty miles,
Six hundred left to go.
It's a long old lonesome journey,
Shufflin' through the snow.

He's lonesome and he's hungry,
It's been a time since last he ate,
And as the night grows bolder,
He wonders at his fate.
For his legs are wracked with pain
As he staggers through the night.
And he sees through his troubled eyes,
That his hands are turning white.

Lonely as a single star,
In the skies above,
His father in a mining camp,
His mother in the ground,
And he's looking for his dad,
And he's looking out for love,
Just a lost little boy by the railroad track
Heading homeward bound.

Is that the great Wendigo
Come to look upon my face?
And are the skies exploding
Down the misty aisles of space?
Who's that coming down the track,
Walking up to me?
Walk on, little Charlie,
Walk on through the snow.
Moving down the railway line,
Try to make it home.
And he's made it forty miles,
Six hundred left to go.
It's a long old lonesome journey,
Shufflin' through the snow.

 -  Willie Dunn