Mountains and Lacunae

I spent three hours last night talking to strangers about mountains.

Drank three cups of mulled wine, discovering that the answer to 'should I add more brandy?' should always be a resounding yes.

And so I dreamt about truging hikes in New Zealand, the overwhelming Himalayans, and two hundred year old stone houses in Tennesse.

hailing from Milky Way

Tucked in the corner, jars of live termites, writing in chalk, Japanese green tea.

And I'm in there too, drink in hand.

Looking for inspiraton today.

Dance Report - on floating

(or how to make the city so light that it floats away in the sky)



Carry a stone. Go on
carrying heavier stones
until they become so
heavy that the whole
city starts to look
lighter than what you
are carrying.

dog days

i had not moved the beer bottles, so when i kicked the fan off my bedside table, one smashed across the floor. brown glass hides on the hardwood, the fan still spinning.

This is just to say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
-William Carlos Williams

this is a promise with a catch

three rounds and a sound

Things aren't all so tangible and sayable as people would usually have us believe; most experiences are unsayable, they happen in a space that no word has ever entered, and more unsayable than all other things are works of art, those mysterious existences, whose life endures beside our own small, transitory life.

drawings

permutations of Palace

repeat

Reunions

it's Wednesday and i am laying in the living room, i'm listening.

remember once i asked if you would read out loud to me.

mostly i just want to be a part of something beautiful.

walking into the washroom, my waitress was there and crying. "I'm just having a hard day."
it was eight in the morning. i ordered coffee and waited in the empty restaurant. it was silent and the sun, a deep orange on the clean bar top.

miles up and away, after only a few hours and he said, i've just met you and you are beautiful. and he was beautiful too. we all were, afternoon buzz and wide open air.
he was once addicted to crack. she was using me as a clean slate.
i was sitting back.

whiskey and rum, tea and toast

'Look at that hair, I sure had the biggest hair.'

foggy thinking

i have an aversion to cotton balls. they are like nails on a blackboard, to me.
stuck in the rental car in the fog for three hours, laying across the backseat, my whole body felt like cotton. dense and warm and stuck.

tiny toes in the ocean. cold ocean, woke me right up.

i wear my sunglasses at night

Sonny sure does. this man, he knows what's happenin'. he knows.

..and damn he sure can wail.

Rapunzel Rapunzel let down your hair

i noticed the way the shadows have shifted, across the deck, across my body, turning me a little more north-west.
eating hand picked strawberries and my skin is settling into a soft warmth, today is Midsummer.

earlier, ripe mango and avocado, and coffee with real cream. now i am spewing out word after word about Spatial Composition.

Rag & Bone Resort 2010

those grey sweats.. damn.

it's all happening

the sun will be rising soon. somewhere around 4 i guess i figured why not keep going.
the sky is turning pink. good morning, yeah.

////

then later, after two hours sleep - it's good to act out of character once in a while (is it?)

you're gonna drive me crazy

it has been decided, summer Drink, 09':

drink it at 10, 2 and 4 for 8 full days !

pair a soda with some licorice whips, a mighty fine summer Snack.

walk don't run

them coupla' free beers as the store sat empty for over an hour (save for visiting neighbors) sure made the stroll home in the rain okay. pretty alright even.

National Geographic, April 1973

i look forward to the ocean. the atlantic clears my head and breaks my heart.

lemon dessert in the good glassware and hand rolled cigarettes, she calls me her Ducky.

Scot-Free

must be all those pennies - I sure was lucky yesterday.
but i'm still Careless. same day, intoxicated on my bicycle and eating a Passion Flakie with one hand.

"you are free to go."
i am free to go, it seems. a menace to myself mostly. ain't nobody else to mess with but me.

beautiful mid night

so we sat, sucking back warm air and listened to the sprinklers turn on in the dark.

eating honey by the spoonful, and getting emails from Dad, Re: Court Solutions. sweet tooth, toothache.

beautiful morning, too. eating ripe grapefruits in the street, juice dripping down my forearm, i'm licking my fingers, that man is watching me from inside his house.

and now, the testings of life - Monet and Manet, Auguste and Gustave, Luncheons and Boulevards, and patches of skies like tufts of cotton candy, waking me up and bringing me home. or am I still dreaming.

one day the nights will slow down (no they won't)

i'm exhausted, but i'd rather feel this than be numb

transparent

The LightScraper is a custom built aluminium structure, fabricated with a layer or semi translucent mesh. The structure can be easily erected in various compositions in an outdoor or indoor setting. A single computer and two projectors are use to bring the sculptures visuals to life. The LightScraper also acts as a giant musical instrument, people’s location influence the melodies emitting from the sculpture.

–adjective
1. having the property of transmitting rays of light through its substance so that bodies situated beyond or behind can be distinctly seen.
2. admitting the passage of light through interstices.
3. so sheer as to permit light to pass through; diaphanous.
4. easily seen through, recognized, or detected: transparent motives.
5. manifest; obvious: a story with a transparent plot.
6. open; frank; candid: the man's transparent earnestness.

Get Things Right

i didn't get tickets in time.


i'm slowly killing the plant on my windowsill, and i can't seem to make a baked potato. it tasted okay, kind of chewy. baked potatoes are not supposed to be chewy.
today is a new day.

it tolls for thee

i'm sitting in the sun and my black jeans are soaking in the heat - still with a breeze i'm warm in that way that the sun just wraps you up, and you never get hot, just lightly toasted. this park is not exactly luscious, but it is grassy and it is well used, the way a park should be.

nearby a group of men sit, rough looking and dirty sneakers, one with ropey dreads, some older some younger. strolling through the green space a man plays a clarinet, stopping at the fountain for sips. i am alone, killing time before meeting a friend. the man with the dreads states out loud, this is the life - sunshine, good music, beautiful people.
at first they're talking about getting busted, for pot, in the park. i must have just missed it, their buddy it seems. which turns into a discussion on public consumption and the legalization of marijuana. they are sipping tall boys as they speak. suddenly they are talking about wine, about some new law passed in Europe, about mixing red wine and mineral water to make a fake rose. one seems to feel that the anything-to-make-a-buck mentality only leads to diminished products. minutes later i hear talk of Valerie Bertinelli, and her weight loss and Jenny Craig. the older man seems to think her new bikini body is hot, another disagrees. then it's back to discussing that friend of theirs, and his drug addiction, his crack. they don't seem too impressed with him.

i see my friend coming up the block. just as i get up to leave dread-man wonders out loud, where is so-and-so, another comments, no man's an island, he will be back.

and now i'm falling towards the sky

this, while listening to Patrick Watson's piano playing.

Le Louvre Abu Dhabi, 2012

click for detail/tiny bits of light

You can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in.
-Junot Diaz


i keep trying to run.

birth day loot

beer-cupcakes with cream cheese icing
lilacs
lily of the valley
commemorative Blue Jays keychain (1989)
found Joker
stainless steel flask
sixteen special beers
potted flowers
lemon cupcakes with strawberry mascarpone icing
handmade bracelet (Species by the Thousands)
handmade 'poo' names book (V. Maltese)
1 coupon for a free Dome beer, at any date



i spilled on my dress, i drank some beers. i mostly thought, until July. i mostly thought, to slip away quietly.
my room smells like lilacs and i turned 23 years yesterday. snippets of sleep, it's 9 am it's tuesday it's all gone.

to-do list (one of many)

everyday: stop forgetting things
soon: watch Synecdoche, New York already (everyone keeps telling me it's bad but still), return, pay late fee
next tuesday: eat breakfast

so far so good.

good deed

he was walking his dog, and 80 dollars cash slipped from his pocket. i was walking behind him and picked it up.
that's me, on the lookout. somehow my eye just catches.

what will i do with them all, one day. maybe nothing. they will stay slipped into the folded white envelope for a long long time, squeezed in between books on my shelf. my collection remains tucked away neatly.

I said you do

the man across the street was mowing his lawn at 9am, loud and monotonous. pacing and pushing and pulling, waking me up too soon. and everything outside was wet and slick, sort of silvery and faded.
i rode with a sideways smile, that sideways smile. and the streets smelled sickly sweet from the chocolate factory nearby. pink petals blanketed my route.
now home for a minute and my hair smells like cut grass, and i'm wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and the day before that. mostly i just want a cup of coffee.

cheer up king bee, your stomach turns over but your lungs are free

to just be sad, and we were just babies.
or maybe i was the babe. and you, you smelled like soap.


white and grey and cold and tired. the sky and i collide on days like this, on tuesday.

here's hopin'

nice things about my new job:
free booze at staff meetings
staff meetings which turn into gossip sessions
being invited to play on the Queen kickball team
being invited to be part of the store bike gang, jackets included


semi-drunk phone calls through Trinity, the sky is closing up, i'm talking too loudly. i am marching along, tripping on home. then i'm dragging out the recycling bins, they are falling over. i'm swearing and laughing.
it's all so simple, right now.

Procrastinatin', So Amazin'

even Jeezy's got a Jays hat. i'm thinking maybe an early birthday present to myself.

falling asleep with the lights on, and i bruise like a peach.

haha rough

3am. sharing a Jos Louis and making plans to watch Seinfeld. durr, shitty buzz.



sleeping in, them tiny birds chirpin me, and sunny thursday eats at Aunties and Uncles, cure all. i'm gonna eat you tiny eggs. and orange juice AND coffee. then watch The Net on vhs? this is happening.



laughing is good, and the eggs tasted nice. but i still have two cavities and probably not a clue in my head.

Liberty + Nike Blazer

shoe-boner

East of Eden

finding myself reading and re-reading chapter 1, California poppies and places named for hope. maybe i could drive there, maybe i could and sweat it out. Arizona too, stretches of dry land and dry air, and bloodred sunsets, it might all lull me to sleep. or maybe i would never sleep at all, just doze off in the afternoon, and stay up under a blackened sky just for the sake of doing it. i'd like to wear one tshirt for a week, let the sun do its magic on my face - do its magic and keep me running. 

they did it, they went. and i wonder what she was thinking. i wonder how much they believed in their happiness. 

no one who is young is ever going to be old.  thanks John.

Zombie City Shake

we laughed about that night we got so fucking high, buttering the toast with my fingers, 'i just wanna live my life!' that tiny kitchen, and i love your blonde little head, the ways i know you, dropping your keys and fiddling with your monies.
'i know your core, Erin.' dear friend, lets just sit and stare into eachother's eyeballs a tiny bit longer.



sunny afternoon, and biking to the liquor store seemed like a good idea at the time. too many purchases, not enough handlebars.

i just wanna watch Congo, is that too much to ask, world?

this, love it

Lykke Li @ NTBR Part 4 - "Hustlin'" from Drew Innis on Vimeo.

Lykke Li, you my gurl

Deadringer

45 minute long busride, and it wasn't long enough. sure didn't help my headache. neither did more gin when i got home.

Notice of Trial sitting on the bed. another reminder, i am Careless.
here i was thinking it was Recklessness. if the consequences are one and the same, i think i'd rather fall with intent, than just have my head in the clouds.

but hey i'll take Careless, and dodge the criminal record.

Academic Endeavors, on a thursday

study carousel: 50 slides. 39 of them basic squares, varying in colours, some with lines or grids or 'zips', others a few squiggles, or geometric shapes.
such is the monochrome, a site for aesthetic controversy, the contested colour field. but is it truly the formal endpoint for painting?
hello final examination for Abstraction in Twentieth Century Art. funny how i adore you.


and later in the afternoon, actual question from my prof - what is the relation between going to a dinner party, fucking your girlfriend, plucking your ass hairs, and loving your emperor?
oh Martial, you wiley first century Roman poet you. and your Latin, so dirty! cocks and cunts all over.
so ends the hardest course i have ever taken, with ancient porno-poetry.

see you never U of T. well, except for that hot summer fling we gonna have. you know, may-june, maybe some early mornings, afternoon delight. but then i'm leaving you for good, we are so over. i got what i needed out of this relationship, and you sure did fuck me a lot. deal's a deal.


really though, shopping the sales at FCUK between classes today, not too shabby. and those ivy covered buildings, you got charm U of T, i'll give you that much.

old home week

my room smells like Bakardi RAZZ? hahahahahha
and i hope my new glasses are ready by tomorrow, i can't see shit.

do it while i'm sleepin', a little osmosis

when did you become so impatient he asked me.

After Dark

"You know what I think?" she says. "That people's memories are maybe the fuel they burn to stay alive. Whether those memories have any actual importance or not, it doesn't matter as far as the maintenance of life is concerned. They're all just fuel. Advertising fillers in the newspapers, philosophy books, dirty pictures in a magazine, a bundle of ten-thousand-yen bills: when you feed 'em to the fire, they're all just paper. The fire isn't thinking, 'Oh, this is Kant,' or 'Oh, this is the Yomiuri evening edition,' or 'Nice tits,' while it burns. To the fire, they're nothing but scraps of paper. It's the exact same thing. Important memories, not-so-important memories, totally useless memories: there's no distinction - they're all just fuel."


The new day is almost here, but the old one is still dragging its heavy skirts. Just as ocean water and river water struggle against each other at a river mouth, the old time and the new time clash and blend.

oh hello april

3.1 Philip Lim Spring 2009 RTW

love love love.