My Lair

And yet, some claim it might have been an accurate representation of something now forgotten. Something the people of this cave knew, maybe feared, or worshipped. Something as old as the stone they painted.

Also, hot take. I think Breuil wasn't that far off when he did the sketch! Most pictures you find online only show the painted part clearly, but a lot of the drawing was etched into the stone and that's hard to photograph. It's still hard to see, but this picture shows it better:

Years later, I found out that he'd spent his entire childhood on the Canadian prairies with cold feet. My grandmother just bought whatever boots looked like the best value, regardless of whether they'd keep anyone warm. They'd kept him from frostbite, probably, but never, ever comfortable.

The reason my grandmother never had a thought about this was because she was buying her kids real boots. There was a sort of magical quality about real, purpose-made boots that meant that of course they'd work, because when she was growing up on the Canadian prairies, they had the kind of no money that meant you just stuffed some newspaper into your shoes and soldiered on.

The last pair of winter boots my dad bought for me was 15 years ago, in preparation for a three-month stint living in northern Quebec in midwinter. They cost $200 then, or something like it. I've worn them every year since, driving out to the remotest locations on the Canadian prairies and never once thinking about my feet.

But I want to say, for his sake but also for all of yours, that my dad told me he loved me every single day of my childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood. The phrase, repeated ad nauseam by both my parents, was that they loved me "always and forever, no matter what". My dad probably said that phrase, with its sentimental gooeyness, more than my mom. Even when we were mad, even when I was a teenager and absolutely everything was wildly embarrassing. He still says it, when we're having a Moment, eyes twinkly and kind of proto-teary. If we're not having a moment, if it's just a regular day, my dad just tells me he loves me every time he sees me.

You want to study abroad? Show us proof that there is a quadrillion dollars in your bank account. Oh, an average monthly salary in your country is $400 and you plan to work when you arrive? You can't do that, silly, a student visa only allows you to work 2 hours every third Wednesday, and if we find out that you're working a second more we will deport you.

You want to work abroad? Better be a programmer, then of course you are welcome. Doctor, scientist, white-collar or, god forbid, blue-collar worker? You can fuck right off, your visa application goes straght into trash.

You will have to prove that you can afford a guest, have some income and also usually take responsibility for possible deportation cost.

But if you really are inviting a friend over, they will give you a formal document you can send to your friend. Then the friend applies for a visa while attaching the Very Official document with it. They will get the Schengen visa and most probably will get it expedited too.

But now the company holiday party is upon us.

And I’ve been lying about the girlfriend.

Reasonable: “just say she couldn’t make it!”

[Joey, on the act of creating] "It doesn't matter if it's good, it matters that it happened"

[Madeleine, on which minor deities they said they would be when they first started discussing the Solkats] "I said I was the goddess of muddy hems on long dresses. I think you said you'd be the god of... the moment ice clinks-" [Joey] "-at the bottom of a whisky glass"

[Joey, on finding the will to return to a hometown that didn't treat him well] "I'm different now, what have you got for me?"