there is a light that never goes out.

Signaling the end of an era, Ted and Carmen left last week. Back to Canadia, a fabled land full of dirt cheap thrift stores, Stevie Nash, and more good bands than New York, London and Seattle in '92 combined. Farewell, you lovely people.

So come back, I'm waiting:

Ted shredded a bit. But dinner at my house + skating = cramps. Not a good look.

Baryshnikov tactics.

"Ted do it again, but slower. And make the landing this time too, instead of falling so hard."

We then headed over to Sean's, but the L was all fucked up (what's new?) so we decided to indulge in some stray PBR's that Ted had sitting around. (Ed. note-That's why Theodore is so bro, who just has a stray pack of Pabst just sitting in the fridge like that? In addition, the flash didn't do that, hes just that pale.)

Guess who did that? (Note how it actually looks like it says "eelibration")

The moon was the color of pumpkin guts, so we just fanned out on it with the help of our camera's and their seemingly infinite amout of color/white balance/shutter speed settings.

What I reckon is that the building does a new letter every night. Next night 'G.' Or perhaps they go shuffle like iTunes, maybe next up was 'Z,' fuck if I know.

Carmen's camera was fucking weird, it made the city look like a vortex hit it. Like red-eye for the skyline.

Ted was trying to see if his could do the same. (Nope.)

Flash off.

Flash on.

And then, much like the graffiti on Ted's roof, the celebration was short. Tears followed.

+p.s.

More from parties from days past and present, once I recover from my lack of Canadian bros.