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fire in the night

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

I was woken at 4:15 or so this morning by a series of bright flashes and loud bangs. I was immediately out of bed and pulling on my bath robe. I'd seen those symptoms before, since I moved here, when a transformer caught fire in the alley half a block away. Sure enough, I emerged in time to see another bright flash. But what really caught my eye was the minivan parked in the alley. It was completely engulfed in a ball of flame. Fire-fighters were already on the scene, but the garage in which the van was half-way parked was also burning, and they were having a hell of a time. More fire-fighters arrived. And more. The van was put out, and eventually the smoke from the garage itself started to die down. What a mess. This morning there is a BC Hydro crew on the scene, and fellows wandering around with thick briefcases.

One of the agencies in town put on a show down at the library, about finding IT contracts in 'this market'. It was quite good; I learned a fair bit and was glad I attended. On the way back, feeling a little too wrung out to bother making myself dinner, I went to the local greasy spoon and squeezed in just before closing. I got to chatting with a waitress there who's pretty cool (she's a novelist, it turns out), but got shot down when I asked her if she wanted to go out for a drink. So I came home and finished off the Tequila from the macho contest on my lonesome.