...there is joy!

great interspecies connection!

2011-10-03T00:32:00.004-04:00

o hi sweet little tenders. so remember that time last autumn when i talked about bambi? well. this happened:

this was pretty great

so just in case you were wondering about autumn and whether or not it's the best - here's your proof. also, if you were questioning life and it's endless enchantment - look no further. it is - literally - at your fingertips.

UPDATE:
then this happened last weekend:

great again

great question!

2011-09-20T23:02:00.000-04:00

stumbled upon this today.
how often are we asked to divulge our worst memory, our most painful, our most heart rending?
what a joyful thing, to ask of strangers: what is your favourite memory?
the below video was done in new york, but if you google "fifty people, one question", you'll see that this is being done all over the world.
so i ask of you, little tenders - what is your favourite memory?
post it here, or email it to me, or even make your own video and send it my way.
i will post them all.

you are loved.
you are safe.
you will be someone's favourite memory!

great revolution!

2011-09-13T15:20:00.003-04:00

this revolutionary does not need to be spoken for. would that we were all so brave. just watch.

great art!

2011-09-12T14:48:00.001-04:00

well well well. hey, do you folks like art? yeah, me too. what about reclaimed art? yup, i love that too. see? we're all connected.

let's say you are in a sally ann. you're looking for a really great oversized denim shirt in the boys section. you don't find one, but in the process of searching, you come across a huge painting of wild horses galloping through a dusty field. you look at this old, discarded painting and you think: how can i make this better? you think: what are these horses running toward? better yet, what are these horses running from?

you buy this painting, you take it home and you begin to paint not one UFO, but several, in the sky. now these horses have a purpose. survival.

one of my nearest and dearest, kamikaze cox [of blog fame make it even better], is having an art show. over the next few weeks, cafe pyrus will be hanging her beautiful and haunting reclaimed art.

so go eat some meat-free, dairy-free and probably wheat-free food, drink some coffee and peruse these wonders of the world! GO GO GO. life is short, little tenders!

great lists!

2011-08-11T16:16:00.007-04:00

this kid has got it all right

o hello my little tender ones. it's been so long, hasn't it? well, your faithful narrator has been through a bit of a whirlwind, but i'm back to talk about more things that are great! there is still joy. when there is nothing else, there is the ever-present possibility for joy! life is so very short. it is heartbreaking and astounding and the point is to feel everything, isn't it? it's what we do. what a thing to marvel at.

so. let's get started, shall we?

let's talk about something that i have a personal obsession with: list-making. this fella has always got a handful of little post-it notes and recycled tear-ups in her back pocket of to-do's, don't-forgets, here's-a-thoughts and read-this's.

for example, i just emptied out my pocket and here i have a list of authors to read [lydia davis and amy hempel] as well as a little grocery list of red wine vinegar, PAY TUITION [not available at grocers, but certainly list-worthy. yikes!], graham crackers [for melting peanut butter and semi-sweet chocolate chips on. healthy life choices. don't mind if i do] and coffee. now, i've just made myself a nice little cup of coffee only to discover that my cream has gone the way of the irish elk. that is to say, brother, it's way gone. so, do i add cream to my list? no. i re-write the list. nothing fills me with a greater sense of purpose than writing a fresh new list to crumple up into the safe pit of fabric where my spheroidal ass will keep it warm and protected from the elements. an added-to list gives one more things to stroke off. what satisfaction! what accomplishment!

but i've stumbled upon a new challenge. it's called the list of 100. you can do this for anything. you could do the list of 100 things to do before you die, or 100 things you've already done and you're still not dead, 100 things you want to say out loud, 100 people you want to touch with your hand, 100 animals you'd like to rub faces with. the potential is limitless. just like joy. limitless!

it's also an excellent tool for getting those atrophied creative veins pumping again. sit down and write a list 100 anything. 100 character ideas, 100 plots, 100 story titles, 100 opening or closing sentences.

now you may come to a bit of stalemate in the process of writing your list of 100. you may feel that some of what you're tossing in is inane, pointless, dull as dishwater even [am i martha stewart?]. don't let that stop you. the idea is that you work through this and come up with things that you otherwise wouldn't have.

just like i always say, my little tender ones: i get naked, you get naked. so. here's the beginning of my list. in an effort to get myself writing again, i figured i should start with some titles to get me thinking.

hopefully one of these little babies will spearhead a great story that will land me in an issue of mcsweeney's!

on that note, let me leave you with one more list of to-do's:

- feel everything
- love, love, love

great yes!

2011-04-23T19:27:00.000-04:00

"at the side of the everlasting why, there is a yes! and a yes! and a yes!" -e.m. forster [a room with a view]

my sweet ones.
say yes.
life is short.
take the risk.

great laugh!

2011-04-12T22:39:00.001-04:00

laughter: the reactive force.
laughter: the performatory showing.
laughter: the cathartic chopping.
laughter: the audible expression or appearance of excitement, an inward feeling of joy or humor.

Robert Provine [profesor de psicología y ayudante de dirección del programa de neurociencia de la universidad de maryland!] suggests that laughter is one of the first forms of communication by we humans and that laughter evolved into talking. what a remarkable curse and blessing.

laughter stems from the limbic system in our formidable and unhinged brains. the limbic system deals with functions that pertain to our ability to thrive. that is to say, it's a form of survival. to laugh is to live, little tenders.

we humans are not the only livers-and-breathers to laugh. our furry foreparents, current cousins and long-distance twice-removed tenders are also great laughers. blessed be they who open their traps and howl at the great humours and joys of life.

laughter is an act of vulnerability. an open mouth and revealed neck is a great risk in the animal kingdom. it's a great risk in our weighty little kingdom too. it's a kill shot. but honey, ain't we precious. don't we just love to see an exposed neck full and strained from the horn of laughter? doesn't this release, this vibrating sing-song of pure, unsullied joy make you feel like you're a part of something magical? because you are!

so laugh.
my sweet tenders, if there is nothing else in this world, let there be laughter.
let there be a great howling amongst us.
let there be joy!

great people!

2011-03-17T09:14:00.002-04:00

green beer is for suckers, guys.

chin up, feet forward.

fists to yourselves, please.

keep grinning, little tender ones.

sing a song, make a toast, kiss your neighbour.

try not to be a douche bag on the day reserved for my glorious people.

here are some famous quotes by irish people:
"that's my breakfast lunch and dinner right there." - colin farrell in reference to the vagina [sheath or scabbard, whaaaaaaaat?].

i'll stop there. i can't imagine continuing after that little gem.

may we all be alive this time next year!

take the great risk!

2011-03-08T21:58:00.005-05:00

you will die.
the inevitability of this is certain. our knowledge of this is irrefutable. it keeps us - more often than not - careful, safe, aware. it can keep us, even more often than this, scared. sounds boring, does it not?

what we do not understand is our capacity to live.
what we can guarantee, however, is that we are - every day - given an opportunity to be something to someone, something to anything. in this life, today, right now, this moment.

our capacity to live is almost inconceivable to us.
we do it without thinking.
is that not incredible to you?
you are existing right now with no awareness of it at all.
why are you not totally freaking out?
why are you not screaming in fits of joy at this discovery?

would that i could get into your brains, my little tenders.
crawl in, just at the slope in your ear [pinna!] and whisper to you that behind the mud and the smoke there is one thing you need; one thing you crave; one thing that you should strive for every day, every moment, right now.
and that is connection.
the rest of it doesn't matter.
the rest of it is just details, semantics, distractions, abuses, bullshit.
open your eyes, open your hands, open whatever opens.
let something in.
it doesn't matter how that part manifests for you.
connect.
can't you see that someone is trying to get through to you?

my father, in his great bewilderment, had written that he wanted to be found.
he wanted it so badly that he wrote it six times over.
find me!
find me!
find me!
find me!
find me!
find me!
he wrote asking for us to take the risk.
take the risk.

do you understand?
take the risk, you beautiful, exciting people!
you are alive and existing.
connect with one another.
there is time.
take the risk.
we will be here.

great sorrow!

2011-02-21T17:26:00.003-05:00

marina abramovic - happy christmas - 2008

my little tender ones, i know that my goal as your humble narrator is to speak to you of joy and things that are great. i want you to see the greatness in you. in doing this, i want to inspire or help to inspire all things true and honest within you. that includes your darkness. the authentic parts of you are all of the parts of you. i know it's easy to keep your sadness, your anger, your fear in a place that is inaccessible to others - where they can't hold it, or stroke it gently for you.

i want you to open up these caverns. o, just try, sweet ones! we are there, waiting to give you our arms for holding, our lips for hushing, our ears for listening, our hearts to love you. we will rock you against us and it will be okay.

in an effort to ask these things of you, it seems only fair that i share with you this thing - this thing that comes from a place of great sorrow. that is to say: i get naked, you get naked. let's do this together. i'm with you.

my father, robust and bright.
my father, the patriarch.
my father, the child.
my father, the great.
my father, the bewildered.
my father, the peacemaker.
my father, the warmonger.
my father, the effervescent.
my father, the enervated.
my father, alive and living, is gone/has been gone now.

*

you are loved for all of things that are inside of you.
your darkness is marvelous!
show me your fucked-up-ness!
i will honour it!

the below video is a live performance of hope there's someone by antony and the johnsons. antony hegarty is a beautiful, transcendent example [at least musically/lyrically] of what it means to honour your sadness and your fear in order to be free. his darkness is the most moving.

a great message to you.

2011-02-17T20:08:00.011-05:00

marina abramovic & ulay - rest energy, 1980

my beguiling readers, it's been a bit of a time since i talked about you and to you. you! my little tenders! there are some things i want to tell you! have to tell you! need to tell you! things that you must hear and know in your very core.

i wanted to tell you that you are beautiful. no, you're bigger than that. you are dazzling! you are wild! you are savage and uncultivated! you are free and the world is big enough for all of us.

we are the ruler and we are the people.

remember, we need to hold hands across this great, wide expanse. we need to look at one another. i will look you in the eye, that is my oath. i promise i won't ignore you or your astounding, incredible presence. you miracle! you exist. did you know that?

we are here!

i want you to know that the things you offer will be taken up by me and exercised in my hands and my heart. your gifts are staggering.

let's be awake and wide-eyed together!
let's show one another things that bring us joy.
let's bring one another joy.
i will offer you this and my love and the deepest, secret parts of my heart.

i want you to know that you have the potential for a lifetime of momentous actions whereby you will change those around you. you will mark someone's life. i want to mark my life by these momentous actions. i want a mark on me that has you in it.

5000-year-old mantuans in tender embrace

i know times can be hard.

sometimes the weight of a sorrowful heart can make us cold and ache to touch. i know things can bury us. but i know you are in there. i promise i will find you. if ever you are lost, i will not give up on you.

i want the shine in your eyes to reflect my love for you!
can't you see that we're in this together?
i honour you.
we will take care of you.
all of us.
you are not alone.
you are loved.
you are spectacular!
i hold you in my heart.
please carry me with you.

great shameless self promotion!

2011-01-29T18:57:00.001-05:00

hey guys. so i've really been getting into shameless self promotion these days. i think it's important to tell/show people your talents. shout it from the rooftops, my little ones! if you have a talent, there should be no shame in talking about it or being proud of it! we are socialized to blend in. don't stand out. don't rise above. don't draw attention to yourself. i say that's balls! let your beautiful, unique and interesting selves shine! sparkle! you are made of star stuff, my tender ones!

so. self promotion. if that means posting videos of one's self reading deep lez smut, then so be it. that being said - i think i might have a slight proficiency in talking about sex. i recently read at cliterature: an evening to celebrate women's sexuality. here it is!

do you like the child-size bow tie, little tenders? i purloined it from a mainstream fashion store so that i could look dapper and conservative.

i also read last year. here it is!

great shell marcel!

2011-01-16T14:04:00.002-05:00

it's sunday morning. guess what i had for breakfast? hazelnut coffee, a poached egg and roasted yellow pepper on an english muffin with a side of sauteed mushrooms and garlic and pea shoots for a garnish! homemade by a red-headed wonder friend! ain't you jealous?!

okay, tender ones. i had to share this with you.
jenny slate, a welcome addition to [and then sad subtraction of] the snl cast, has herself a little side project with her director-beau dean fleischer-camp. it's a little animated short called "marcel the shell with shoes on". jenny slate co-wrote this piece and also did the voice [unaltered!]. marcel is charming, terribly witty and fills me with so much joy. guys, i can't even handle the deep love i feel when i watch this. i actually broke out into a sweat because i was so excited about meeting this gentle little creature!

please enjoy!

great white mystery!

2011-01-12T19:17:00.001-05:00

hi there, sweet tender ones! fuck yeah 2011, right?! it started out really great and it's still pretty great. this new month of the two thousand and eleventh year of the current era is looking pretty darned excellent thus far. what say you, crowd?

so, being a canadian [<-- emilie mover!] and all, i really don't see why i shouldn't discuss our country's reputation for being on the receiving end of ridiculous amounts of snow!!! yeah snow! i was born in december [decembers' flower is a poinsettia! poison!], so i am naturally drawn to the cold, crisp, clouds of air [alliteration!] that puff from our hot and earnest lungs as we slip about and crunch the snow under our giant, in and out of style winter booties!

snow is frozen precipitation that comes from the sky gods ever-flowing tear pool! [thank the rocket's 4-year-old brain for that one]. it's more commonly known as a type of precipitation within the earth's atmosphere in the form of crystalline water ice and blah blah blah IT'S FREAKIN WHITE MAGIC! frigging joke silk says my friend, kamikaze!

snow, in its collective and communal form is pretty fantastic. but snowflakes. snowflakes are little enchantments. tiny, unique particles of wizardry! but soft! how, you ask. just how. they are crystals, supercooled [and super-awesomed]. according to the anonymous geniuses at wikipedia, "These droplets are able to remain liquid at temperatures lower than −18 °C (0 °F), because to freeze, a few molecules in the droplet need to get together by chance to form an arrangement similar to that in an ice lattice". in layman's terms, MORE PEARLY MAGIC!

i know it's bloody cold out, guys. i know it makes going out of doors seem unbearable. but next time you see that chalky downfall blanketing our beautiful earth, find yourself in awe. there is magic every day!

look how much this little spirit animal [red fox] likes it!

great anthropomorphism!!!

2010-12-17T19:20:00.002-05:00

greetings, my sweet little tenders!  the snow is falling - as is intended for the winter season - and i am pleased by its soft blanketing of the farm land across the road from the window through which i am staring.

in the spirit of december being magic again, it seems a good time to discuss anthropomorphism in animals.  you know, what with rudolph talking and all. 

anthropomorphism, according to our faithful wikipedia, is a term coined in the mid 1700s.  it was used to refer to any attribution of human characteristics (or characteristics assumed or believed by some to belong only to humans - which is a good point to bear in mind, sweet ones) to animals or non-living things, phenomena, material states and objects or abstract concepts. most cultures possess a long-standing fable tradition [think aesop] with anthropomorphised animals as characters that can stand as commonly recognised types of human behavior.

yann martel's 'beatrice and virgil'
we do not trust humans inherently.  we are given to bouts of dishonesty, war, murder, rape.  animals, we trust them.  they open their mouths and speak what may appear to be a great truth, such as the final words of the great stag in gustav flaubert's the legend of st julian the hospitaller, "accursed! accursed! accursed! thou shalt murder thy father and thy mother!" - and they carry the weight of a prophet.  the strength of which can change a man from a ruthless animal killer to a saint. seriously.

but are animals innocent?  no, they most certainly are not.  apes are known to gang up on and ruthlessly murder their peers for no good reason. animals also lie, deceive, murder and rape.  animals can be evil, plain and pure - but would we call them evil or simply adhering to their nature? we tend to excuse them for their overwhelming grace and majesty.  at least, i do.   why does our nature haunt us whereas the nature of animals enchants us?  i don't have this answer.  nor do i require one.  i love those fuzzy buggers, big and small.

let's talk about some good examples of anthropomorphism:

george saunder's fox 8, obviously. again, if you don't have this rare-to-find story [changed my life kind of story] please don't hesitate to contact me and i will send you a copy no problem.  it needs to be read and spread! 

one of my most beloved of aesop's fables is the story of the fox and the crow - a tale that warns against vanity.  we sure could take a tip from mister fox.

my dearest friend, the cat lady of parkdale regularly gives sensitive and omniscient voices to cats on her blog, cats of parkdale.

well. you all know by now that i have a deep love and respect for joanna newsom as both a musician and lyricist.  so does her near-ten-minute work of genius monkey and bear [song] succeed, yet again, in drawing from me a sort of blissful chill upon hearing it. the lyrics are right here, to further your sense of overwhelm. please take the time, little tenders.  this is a beauty.

another contemporary example would be roald dahl's [1970] fantastic mr. fox. it is rare that a book meets its film counterpart and they find themselves eye-to-eye, as equals.  but the film, directed by the most excellent auteur and autodidact [alliteration!] wes anderson [of steve zissou/rushmore/royal tenenbaum fame] is, in my most humble of opinions, equal to the book.

let's also listen to a bittersweet tale of unrequited love in tom wait's fish and bird.

let us not forget felix salten's bambi, about which i have already blogged. 

i would be remiss if i didn't mention disney's robin hood. robin hood and maid marion are red foxes!  it's just the best bloody traditionally animated film ever made.  don't argue with me.  i've got proof. 

beatrice and virgil, a painful and heart-wrenching novel written by canadian author yann martel.

in all of the aforementioned films/novels, there is a common trope: one cannot trust a human.  the misanthropic sentiment encourages me to believe that the creators of these animal-characters also believe in the enduring beauty and trustworthiness of our fur-laden earth-sharers.

what wouldn't you give to wrap your arms around a majestic stag?  to feel the nuzzle of a red fox into your neck?  to burrow your body under the weighty arm of a great lion?  to trace your fingertips in the creases of a beautiful full grown african elephant? 

now consider what you wouldn't give to hear them whisper their secrets to you?

great hangover!

2010-11-20T17:13:00.000-05:00

a word to the wise: always write when you are hungover.

thank you to the alpine-skier-balkan-swede for ushering me back into the fold with your mighty arm and knowing gaze. you were the still force in the thumping pulse of the dance floor. you tilted your head, reached out that mighty arm and beckoned me forth with your tree fingers. you, waiting patiently, rested that magnificent hand on my back and gently urged me back into the circle of dancing kin. your eyes smiled and whispered, "be happy, small one. you have found your people once more."

great recovery!!!

2010-11-18T15:49:00.002-05:00

hello my little tenders!
i've missed you terribly.
this cozy little home of ours was temporarily lost to the world.
but we are back!
most of the photos i posted are no longer active links, but that's okay, we can move on from this with open eyes and open hearts.

the world is still beautiful.
there is still joy.
let's hold hands across the wide universe!
there is joy!
we are here!

this is obscene

2010-10-25T16:18:00.004-04:00

so. i used to think that kate bush was my spirit guide. then i thought that maybe christopher walken better filled those shoes, what with his wicked skills and whatnot. but now i know the truth. the two have joined forces. they have combined their valiant, reeling virtuosity to become one writhing, swaying fist of energy deep in my soul. kate bush tenderly embraces a nude christopher walken - and i feel it surge within me. my spirit guides are in love. imagine if there was a tender red fox at their feet? spirit guide collective.

and now, a snippet from dave egger's a heartbreaking work of staggering genius:

   there's too many of them, of us. too many, too similar. what are they all doing here? all this standing, all this standing, sitting, talking. there isn't even a pool table, darts, anything. just this loitering, lolling, this drinking of beer in thick glasses -
   i've risked everything for this?
   something needs to happen. something huge. the taking over of something, a building, a city, a country. we should all be armed and taking over small countries. or rioting. or no: an orgy. there should be an orgy.
   all these people - we should close the doors and dim the lights and be naked together ... that would make it all worthwhile, that would justify everything. we could move the table, bring in some couches, mattresses, pillows, towels, stuffed animals...
   but this - this is obscene. how dare we be standing around, talking about nothing, not running in one huge mass people, running at something, something huge, knocking it over? why do we all bother coming out, gathering here in numbers like this, without starting fires, tearing things down? how dare we not lock the doors and replace the white bulbs with red and commence with the massive orgy, the joyous mingling of a thousand arms, legs, breasts?
   we are wasting this.
   what could we possibly be talking about?

***

poet mutation

2010-10-13T12:58:00.003-04:00

while i conjure up some beautiful things to share with you, my little tenders, i ask of you to take ten minutes [just ten minutes alone!] to soak up every dazzling little drop of this opus - sawdust and diamonds by joanna newsom. this song will be a survivor. this song is a warrior. it changed my life and i hope it moves you deeply.

great jokes, guy

2010-10-02T21:20:00.000-04:00

yesterday my 6-year-old nephew took it upon himself to create his own jokes. how did he do this? free association, people. this kid is a joke-savant. i took the liberty of writing these little gems down - i'm sure they won't seem as brilliant as they did from the mouth of a 6-year-old. but use your imaginations, little tenders.

Q: what did bailey [his puppy] say to gracie [our recently departed 14-year-old doberman]?
A: can i borrow your tongue?

Q: what did the picture say to the tree? [this one is remarkable]
A: can i please be your branch? [what? right?]

Q: what did the door say to the ketchup?
A: can i borrow your handle?

Q: what did the eyeball say to the brown [he means the iris]?
A: can i go to the eyebrow and you can take my spot?

Q: why did my mommy not got any toilet paper?
A: because she hasn't got any eyes!

Q: what did the cow say to the lobster [surf'n'turf, obviously]?
A: can i please borrow your snappies? [said while making snappy motions with hands]

joke-savant. i rest my case.

great hair and bone harp

2010-09-29T15:43:00.022-04:00

hello, my little tenders! we haven't been intimate for some time now. it's time.

given my propensity to get distracted for lengths of time by great top-20 hits like your love is my drug, i thought it would be prudent to temper my love for ke$ha with my love for murder ballads.

murder ballads originate from the old countries of england, scotland and scandinavia. typical themes are jealousy, adultery or evil-plain-and-pure. they are written/sung in the traditional ballad form, telling a sympathetic story of either a murtherer or the murther'd. the murder is often true, but sometimes mythic - although i choose to believe they are all true because legitimate musicians [and all other artists] are soothsayers and they tell cogent stories about all things real and honest and true.

in the old world versions, supernatural retribution often occurs in the form of hauntings or animals. an example of this would be "the bonny swans"[here performed by loreena mckennitt, who is awesome], where the murthering sister is brought to justice by a harp that is fashioned from the drowned sister's hair and bone [a miller mistook the drowned woman for a swan]. the harp - haunted by the spirit of the drowned sister - sings the song of her unfortunate dispatch for all to hear and thusly gives up the ghost to her jealous sister. another version of this would be "the twa sisters" [this version done by the always illustrious tom waits]. every version is so haunting and desperately sad.

the murder ballad often ends with a moral or a plea to not follow in the footsteps of said murderer or unwitting victim. although this is not a murder ballad, the house of the rising sun is an american folk song and exemplifies the moralistic code at the end of the song that most murder ballads possess: "oh mother tell your children / not to do what i have done / spend your lives in sin and misery / in the house of the rising sun" [also, eric burdon, lead singer for the animals, is a phenomenal and i love him].

the rocket reminded me today that there are new murder ballads being written. for example, there is a breathtaking murder balled entitled "molten light" by a remarkably gifted canadian musician/artist chad vangaalen. written and animated by vangaalen himself, this song tells the chilling tale of a woman who returns from neverwhere to avenge her murder, committed by two bastard brothers [they ripped out her heart and ate it by candlelight]. there is some serious supernatural retribution going on here. it's really important to watch this video for full effect. both the song and the animation feel reminiscent of scandinavian mythology, but i have nothing to back that up other than my own projections.

so, here are some murder ballads to get you started, my little tenders.

lead belly's version of "where did you sleep last night?" is one of my personal favourites.

nick cave and pj harvey do a remarkable arrangement of "henry lee". this is also one of the sexiest videos i've ever seen. so very libidinous. provocative.

the carter family [i love maybelle] always wins my heart here with "john hardy was a desperate little man".

molly o'day does a great "poor ellen smith". i love an old-timey hillbilly tune.

one person dance party

2010-09-27T17:48:00.002-04:00

so. when it is 11.30pm on a saturday night and you have barricaded yourself in a small room with no windows and you are struggling to complete a manuscript that has a deadline burning holes in the back of your head, and you have just cleared the worst of that terrible head cold that's been going around, and you have a wild load of energy just aching to be expended - what do you do?

you have a one person dance party.
with headphones on.
in the dark.
to this song.

and it will bring you great joy.

great silence

2010-09-23T17:50:00.015-04:00

silence. the absence of sound or noise. the state of silentness. muteness. absence or omission of mention, comment or expressed concern. the state of being forgotten. to hush, to quell, to muzzle, to gag. fear the silence. enjoy the silence. silencio [this is among my top-whatever remarkable moments in film - from david lynch's mulholland drive]

there are times that require - above all else - silence. silence is a great bringer of epiphany. silence also carries with it the capacity to find peace, forgiveness, answers, and beautiful nothing. sometimes it brings us divine inspiration, while at other times it may bring unspeakable sadness.

and also - in silence, we can look at photographs of beautiful, majestic, proud animals.

great cop out

2010-09-22T15:56:00.005-04:00

hello my little tenders. your dear narrator has been busy in real life and i haven't had the time to find great things for you. so i thought i'd do an undeserved "best-of" post - also known as a total cop out. here are my favourite posts thus far. that is to say, the posts i had the most fun writing. and there you have it.

great break up.

great blue beard.

animals are lovers.

they ne spared not her throtes.

great feet, clicky heels.

great autodidactism.

for the end is coming.

great rain

2010-09-16T12:06:00.001-04:00

when you work in a building that is, in essence, made of clapboard, siding, garage doors and the dreams of an older brother and your shared father - the sound of the rain on the rooftop is like that of the hammering, impatient finger-drums of the gods.

we are here!

the world is alive, even while we die within it!

give up your ghosts, my little tenders, there is much still to do!

great dance craze

2010-09-14T12:36:00.005-04:00

while listening to patti smith's 1975 epic length poem-song horses on my way to work, i found myself wondering, what is this watusi she keeps referring to? well now i know.

the watusi was the penultimate of dance crazes in the 60s. by penultimate i mean second-most popular. the most popular was the *yawn* twist. and what can i tell you about the watusi?

the watusi derives its name from the batutsi tribe of rwanda. i don't know why.

what else can i tell you? this dance is awesome!

do the watusi, little tenders! i know i will be doing it from hereon in.

great sad face

2010-09-13T23:10:00.005-04:00

i might be late to the game, but nothing passes the evening like 18 pages of sad don draper. and don't judge me too harshly for this one, little tenders. your loving narrator is always looking for great things. some things are less great than others.

i don't have cable, so i don't really know what has happened on mad men since the end of season two. but apparently, don draper cries. and now the sad don draper blog exists and has provided me with a few ha's.

also, christina hendricks [who plays the jane russell-esque sexually exploited secretary on the show] is wicked hot and her junk is perfectly proportioned. i still can't figure out why i wasn't born in the 30s so i could have been an asshole in the 50s and 60s. oh right, because i'm not a man with mother issues and an unwarranted sense of entitlement.

they ne spared not her throtes

2010-09-09T11:08:00.001-04:00

today is the day i talk about birdsong. this is going to be an ongoing project, as there is much to be said about birdsong and i am certainly no expert.

arthur rackham's "the twa corbies" 1919

birdsong, also known as bird vocalization, includes both the calls and the songs of birds. for the sake of poetry, i'll also include conversation and literary magic to that definition.

bird vocalizations are categorized into 5 different "voices". [i got this info from wikipedia] the first is song, simply. the second is companion calling; a short vocalization made between mates, parent and young, or members of a flock to maintain contact when out of visual range. juvenile begging is a strident, loud vocalization often made by young to a parent when begging for food. intraspecific aggression [warning: this link is of two birds fighting. not for sensitive eyes] can consist of loud, alarmed-sounding vocalizations or of energetic song, and may be heard when members of the same species behave aggressively toward each other. and lastly, alarm calls may be heard when birds are startled, frightened, or terrified for their lives, and can take many forms. mobbing is one example of alarm, while a high-pitched alarm call is another.

not to be mistaken for sirens, birds like the nightingale are known, poetically, to sing themselves to death. as quoted by our dear 14th century english maverick geoffrey chaucer in his dream vision poem the book of the duchess [this link contains the piece in its entirety, complete with middle english glossary! i highly recommend it], "they ne spared not her throtes" [they didn't spare their throats]. did you die a little at the lusty, desperate beauty of that? i know i did.

kate bush recorded the sounds of a blackbird singing and then recorded herself imitating those very sounds with the throat of her own singing. thus making both she and the blackbird remarkable creatures. listen to the piece here.

there is also a gentleman by the name of jarbas agnelli who took a photograph of birds on a telephone wires and then composed music according to their placement on the wires. please watch and listen to this beautiful thing here.

you should also read this lovely poem, the twa corbies. this link shows several variations of the poem and all of them are beautiful and sad and eerie. i really love the two carrion birds discussing what to eat. i also love the illustration of the birds by arthur rackham. stunning-creepy.

i will be adding to this entry as i learn more about fantastical birds and their songs!

great pre-preface

2010-09-07T07:48:00.011-04:00

so i've just opened the glorious front cover of dave eggers' brilliant novel a heartbreaking work of staggering genius. i've been itching to get at this book for quite some time now and today is the today. here's how great it is. [it should be noted that i have barely made a dent in the preface].

the opening page says :
this was uncalled for.

next page pre-preface says:
first of all:
i am tired!
i am true of heart!
second of all:
you are tired!
you are true of heart!

dave egger's is the mastermind behind the mcsweeney's publishing empire. mcsweeney's is the quarterly that published one of the most beautiful and lovely short fiction's i've ever read: fox 8, by george saunders. [aside: you cannot find this story anywhere online. if you want to read it, please contact me and i'll scan you a copy].

dave eggers is also the lovely bugger who wrote you shall know our velocity! - an excellent work of postmodern fiction and i recommend it to anyone interested in dipping their toes into the postmodern pool.

that's all i've got for now, little tenders. i do, however, plan to discuss the joys of birdsong to you in the very near future!

fox 8

great bildungsroman

2010-09-03T12:02:00.014-04:00

1923 1st ed. english print, felix salten, bambi

oh hi, little tenders. it's going to be a day full of rain and i just love it. what sounds!

before i get started, i wanted to let you know that there is a new theme for the art of the letter - animals! join the group, get addresses of friends and strangers and send them something in the mail! art, craft, photo, cd's, tapes, presents, letters!

so, the other day i discovered my father's 1928 first edition english print [!] of felix salten's bambi: a life in the woods [Bambi. Eine Lebensgeschichte aus dem Walde]. being the animal lover that i am, i could have burst with joy. this first edition has beautiful original prints in it [they look more like stamps than woodcuts, but i'll never complain].

as a young narrator, my favourite movie was disney's bambi. i know that you hipsters and smart folks are probably sitting several soap boxes high [alliteration!] ready to poo poo me. but bambi is a classic and i defy you to find any fault in the story of the beautiful young roe buck. bambi is the definition of bildungsroman.

now, the movie is one thing. but the book. o the book! it's just so lovely. so beautiful. i can hardly explain to you the bliss one feels when reading about wild forest creatures and the passing of seasons.

before beginning this book, however, i had already become wildly misanthropic. like dian fossey. serious stuff. i've always felt rather loathsome about animal killers. but this novel is making me think very vile things about we humans and our capacity to injure innocent animals. why do they do it? stop it! animals are beautiful and just because they don't need our gentle touches doesn't mean they don't deserve our honour and respect.

but less about badness and more about joy! read this book! i will run the risk of copyright infringement and offer you a tasty little snippet of the easy-to-read story. this is chapter VIII, where a conversation between two leaves takes place on the cusp of a new season:

the leaves were falling from the great oak at the meadow's edge. they were falling from all the trees.

one branch of the oak reached high above the others and stretched far out over the meadow. two leaves clung to its very tip.

"it isn't the way it used to be," said one leaf to the other.

"no," the other leaf answered. "so many of us have fallen off to-night we're almost the only ones left on our branch."

"you never know who's going to go next," said the first leaf. "even when it was warm and the sun shone, a storm or a cloudburst would come sometimes, and many leaves were torn off, though they were still young. you never know who's going to go next."

"the sun seldom shines now," sighed the second leaf, "and when it does it gives no warmth. we must have warmth again."

"can it be true," said the first leaf, "can it really be true, that others come to take our places when we're gone and after them still others, and more and more?"

"it is really true," whispered the second leaf. "we can't even begin to imagine it, it's beyond our powers."

"it makes me very sad," added the first leaf.

they were silent a while. then the first leaf said quietly to herself, "why must we fall?..."

the second leaf asked, "what happens to us when we have fallen?"

"we sink down....."

"what is under us?"

the first leaf answered, "i don't know, some say one thing, some another, but nobody knows."

the second leaf asked, "do we feel anything, do we know anything about ourselves when we're down there?"

the first leaf answered, "who knows? not one of all those down there has ever come back to tell us about it."

they were silent again. then the first leaf said tenderly to the other, "don't worry so much about it, you're trembling."

"that's nothing," the second leaf answered, "i tremble at the least thing now. i don't feel so sure of my hold as i used to."

"let's not talk any more about such things." said the first leaf.

the other replied, "no, we'll let be. but - what else shall we talk about?" she was silent, but when on after a little while, "which of us will go first?"

"there's still plenty of time to worry about that," the other leaf assured her. "let's remember how beautiful it was, how wonderful, when the sun came out and shone so warmly that we thought we'd burst with life. do you remember? and the morning dew, and the mild and splendid nights..."

"now the nights are dreadful," the second leaf complained, "and there is no end to them."

"we shouldn't complain," said the first leaf gently. "we've outlived many, many others."

"have i changed much?" asked the second leaf shyly but determinedly.

"not in the least," the first leaf assured her. "you only think so because i've got to be so yellow and ugly. but it's different in your case."

"you're fooling me," the second leaf said.

"no, really," the first leaf exclaimed eagerly, "believe me, you're as lovely as the day you were born. here and there may be a little yellow spot but it's hardly noticeable and only makes you handsomer, believe me.:

"thanks," whispered the second leaf, quite touched. "i don't believe you, not altogether, but i think you because you're so kind, you've always been so kind to me. i'm just beginning to understand how kind you are."

"hush," said the other leaf, and kept silent herself for she was too troubled to talk any more.

then they were both silent. hours passed.

a moist wind blew, cold and hostile, through the tree-tops.

"ah, now," said the second leaf, "i...." then her voice broke off. she was torn from her place and spun down.

winter had come.

*********************

*sigh*

eebo, why can't you be more great?

2010-08-31T08:20:00.005-04:00

"the booke of hunting" 16th century. bad queen! poor stag!

so i've just discovered that my favourite resource whilst in university [next to the o.e.d.], eebo, does not allow individual trial or membership. one must have special permission and/or be a student/faculty member of an academic institution.

eebo [early english books online] contains over 125,000 scanned texts, microfilm, blah blah blah from the years 1475 on to approximately 1700. it is a goldmine of information. such a wealth of fiction, manifesto, elegy, poetry, trial, image, woodcut - all in plural! it's a middle/early english boner, guys. and now that i've officially graduated, i have been denied access!

i know that google image provides an abundance of woodcuts for my viewing pleasure. i know that google provides many things. but eebo is specialized. and i am a snob.

eebo, you're great. i mean, really, really great. why can you be more great and let me scour your many lovely pages?

what a woman does is open doors

2010-08-30T08:23:00.003-04:00

hey guys, remember when i was talking about bluebeard the other day? well guess what, little tenders? this morning on my merry way to work i was listening to the sweet, sweet warblings of joanna newsom and her 8 minute opus "go long"... but soft! these lyrics tell a familiar story. and hark! did i hear mention of a blue beard? lo and behold! this song is about the sad-eyed murtherer and his ill-fated wife!

i love when these things occur. it's as though one isn't ready to hear the true meaning of a thing until they have the wherewithal to understand it.

what a joy!

tale of bluebeard illustrated by walter crane, 1875

great rogue apples

2010-08-27T21:18:00.003-04:00

talk about joy:

earlier this evening, the rocket and i picked up a giant zucchini and some leeks on the roadside for only two dollars! then one of my dearest and i borrowed a ladder and a poking/bashing stick from generation x video and picked apples from the rogue apple tree across the street. seriously, there is a rogue apple tree uptown waterloo.

so, roasted leeks with parmesan cheese and a rogue apple crumble later - i'm so filled with joy. it is a sad and beautiful world!

also, has anybody seen the results of serious yarn bombing uptown waterloo?

p.s. rumour has it there's a rogue pear tree behind ethel's.

great blue beard!

2010-08-26T08:11:00.016-04:00

hey guys. boy o boy, do i have so many wonderful links for you today! these links give you far more information about the topics/people/events i'm just glossing over. sometimes it's a wikipedia page, sometimes it's a video, sometimes an image. embrace the autodidact in you! learn! click the links!

i know i've only been blogging about great movies lately - but film is important! it is one of many beautiful roads we artists travel toward self expression.

catherine breillat is one such artist. hailing from the capital of sexual self expression [france], this limit-pushing director/writer/professor/novelist is known for her controversial films about sexuality, gender and youth. have you seen À ma sœur!/fat girl [2001] or une vieille maîtresse/the last mistress [2007]? [as an aside, asia argento is such a monstrous babe in this film].

so rocket and i watched her most recent film, barbe bleue/bluebeard [2009]. what a beauty this is! it's based on the "children's story" by famous 17th-century baby-scarer charles perrault. the story/myth itself originates in the late medieval period. more specifically, in the sexy-ugly 15th century - before things got really beautiful again. i personally love the 15th century. it's a really great time for art and the burgeoning english language, post geoffrey chaucer. [that is a link to chaucer's troilus and criseyde. you can read it in full and for free! you should also read the book of the duchess].

okay. so historians believe that the real bluebeard was 15th century aristocrat and prolific murtherer of youth, gilles de rais. brother even fought alongside my fellow lez/drag virtuoso joan of arc! but he killed so many little chitlins after! i think he was set up by the church because he spent all of his money on a big dramatic play about his life and not on them. he did end up confessing of his own volition. but, in the interest of being sleazy, let's just say he was set up by the church.

another theory is that bluebeard was conomor the cursed, a 6th century britton king who wasn't quite as interesting as bluebeard or gilles de rais. so blah blah blah. although it should be mentioned that there are some who believe conomor may actually be king mark of tristan and iseult fame.

i choose to believe that bluebeard was this guy! that guy is dominique thomas; the man who played bluebeard in breillat's film. such a gentle giant, with the saddest eyes. and the little beauty who played marie-catherine? lola créton. this 17-year-old french nymphet has earned herself a lifetime crush [possible stalker] in your dear narrator.

want to know about bluebeard now? he's basically a less exonerated version of henry viii in that he murthered[!] his wives by his own hand, kept their dead and drippy bodies in a dingy basement [alliteration city!] and never referred to his desire to divorce/murder/get a new wife as his "great matter". henry was lame.

but for some reason, breillat makes us see bluebeard as endearing, insecure, sad, even loveable. how does one do that? watch. this. film.

on a side note, there are two little girls who, in a subplot, are reading perrault's story of bluebeard. they are adorable and perfect.

last thing - check out 19th century illustrator walter crane's visual interpretation of bluebeard. so beautiful. and note the tapestry of the temptation of eve behind the curious petite wife with the little golden key. so great.

that's all i've got for you today, friends. nice windfall of information, eh? great.

great snakes.

2010-08-23T22:24:00.003-04:00

in 1967, at the adorable and tender age of 24, fresh-faced documentarian peter adair ventured into the deep south. really deep, folks. scrabble creek, west virginia deep. the documentary is called holy ghost people and should be cherished as an extremely valuable piece of americana.

with only a brief introduction, adair recorded the full length of a meeting for pentecostal, snake-handling, tongue-talking holy rollers. you've never seen anything like it. one of the greatest documentaries ever made and true to it's definition - this film merely presents the holy ghosters in their element. this film is free of judgment.

you will fall in love with the tongue-talking pentecosts. i most certainly did. and you can watch/download it for absolutely no pennies at all, right here. i love free shit on the internet, don't you?

okay guys, that's all i've got. but it's pretty great, right?

fyi

2010-08-19T23:22:00.004-04:00

you guys know that the text in black contains links to various great videos and factoids, right?

okay, great.

great autodidactism.

2010-08-17T07:31:00.007-04:00

jean-pierre jeunet's "the city of lost children"

i'm really into this great word/concept this week: autodidactism. it means to be self-taught or to engage in self-directed learning. there are some great autodidacts in history; such as the great artist and polymath leonardo da vinci [i just love that last supper], brilliant writer josé saramago [blindness], woman-fearing/prolific director woody allen, french philosopher rene descartes, bountiful photographer/artist the rocket... the list goes on.

i also wanted to point out that i think it's really important to continue self-education throughout one's life. what does that mean? read! listen! observe! engage! interact with your world. there is much still to learn!

so i just wanted to draw your attention to a really fantastic autodidact; monsieur jean-pierre jeunet. jeunet is the writer and director of such marvelous visual miasma's such as delicatessen, the city of lost children and amelie. not only are these films simply breathtaking to watch; they also instill in the heart a sense of belonging. a sense of magic in the world. that the universe really does conspire to give you want you want. that there is joy in the world! and that there is no greater joy in the world than laughter, love, beauty, beauty, beauty and love!

great movie.

2010-08-15T14:53:00.001-04:00

dance scene from jim jarmusch's "down by law" (1986)

what a great canter.

2010-08-13T21:47:00.009-04:00

hey guys, here's a really great video of pictures of icelandic horses performing the unique tölt trot/canter [with a really kitschy scandinavian tune].

and here's some really interesting stuff about icelandic horses from wikipedia:

icelandic horses are long-lived and hardy; in their native country they have few diseases.
the icelandic horse displays two gaits in addition to the typical gaits of walk, trot, and canter/gallop, the breed is noted for its ability to perform two additional gaits. the first additional gait is a four-beat lateral ambling gait known as the tölt [as is seen in the above video]. this is known for its explosive acceleration and speed; it is also comfortable and ground-covering.
developed from ponies taken to iceland by scandinavian settlers in the 9th and 10th centuries, the breed is mentioned in literature and historical records throughout icelandic history; the first reference to a named horse appears in the 12th century. horses were venerated in norse mythology, a custom brought to Iceland by the country's earliest settlers.

great town

2010-08-12T08:20:00.011-04:00

so yesterday was a bit of a dark day for your dearest narrator. hard to explain, but certainly not without validity. the weight of a failing father is a hard thing to face some days. and in the face of the unbearable unknown, nothing cures a sore heart like the love of the best kind of woman. there is a light. and what a light.

all that aside; here is a shabby description of my hometown.

***

nobody wants to stay here.

but everybody comes home.

things keep coming to my hometown.

there used to be a parking lot here. a wave of old, cracked concrete. we used to call it "the fun".

where the fun used to be, there is now a flat, even, fresh layer of concrete. it's known as the square.

an auditorium, with cemented slab steps that stand in for seats. bands play. there are tables with coney island umbrellas and nobody from coney island sits under them. sometimes there is a live outdoor play - meant entirely for children and young people intent to impress adults:

i am interested.

i am interesting.

in my hometown; we have two universities, one college, a physics think tank, an institute for international affairs, a centre for international governance innovation, two parks flanked by water and full time swans, one of the largest software companies in the world, a handful of warehouses-turned-condos, a cancer research hospital and a cement square formally known by myself as "the fun".

on thursdays, there is a market. local fruit and vegetables can be bought, only steps away from the local grocery store. we here, in my hometown, pride ourselves in our ability to buy local once a week. we have fabric reusable bags and we ride bicycles with helmets.

we're so country; in the city, we're still country.

but we dress city.

the old barrel yard pyramid, before the tear-down

human:animal cuteness

2010-08-11T18:09:00.001-04:00

zach galafianakis is akin to a tiny kitten in cuteness.

great break up

2010-08-10T07:51:00.011-04:00

body language is everything

holy hangover guys! i got an early start to the party last night and drank nearly an entire bottle of chardonnay before trotting off with pals to see juliette lewis at the starlight. i like to do it with class, friends. what's that you say? the juliette lewis from such classics as hysterical blindness and natural born killers? yes that's right. my resulting hangover and 6am alarm clock really killed the party vibe, but the show was excellent.

as an aside - i work across the street from farm country. at this early hour, the fog is so thick i can't even see the farm. i want to live in that fog. live. in. it.

so it pains my little loving heart to hear of the break-up of joanna newsom and andy samberg. i found out via text from the rocket. it read: joanna and andy broke up! can't wait for the next album! [i love that gal]

seriously though, guys. i thought those two were for realsies. i suppose joanna's enamoured, 3-disc love letter to andy just wasn't as prolific to him as his own personal poetic prowess [holy alliteration again!].

let's consider a head-to-head of the poet/singer hybrid mutation that is joanna newsom and the comedic genius of andy samberg.

ROUND ONE:

andy: comedian, rapper, mini-movie virtuoso.

joanna: prophet.

ROUND TWO:

joanna: "and in a moment of almost unbearable vision / doubled over with the hunger of lions/ hold me close, cooed the dove / who was stuffed now with sawdust and diamonds"

andy: "i'm on a boat, i'm on a boat / take a good hard look at the motherfucking boat"

you see where i'm heading with this.

listen guys, i love andy [not his hair], but that relationship - as much as i thought it was excellent - had some serious obstacles. consider that andy must have had a fairly literate and loving side in order to win the heart of tender jojo. and joanna must have had the sense of humour to nab andy. but then i thought, check out joanna newsom's ass! and then i thought, boys will be boys. and then i thought, check out joanna newsom's ass again! clearly the answer to many prayers among us. [it really should be noted - purely for biblical purposes - that the rocket's ass is the amen to all asses]

i suppose it comes down to one thing/opinion: i don't think andy was able to handle the book of newsom. that book is heavy.

so, i will quietly await joanna's break-up album with my hands clasped to my tender loving breast. the gospel of joanna will resound in our hearts once again. and andy can keep making these gems.

well folks, that's all i've got. hangover nausea washes in like a rogue wave.

animals are superior beings

2010-08-05T14:08:00.004-04:00

in case you needed more proof that animals are more spectacular, soulful creatures than we could ever aspire to be - i offer you baby moose in sprinkler.

***

[UPDATE AUGUST 12TH] NEW ADDITIONS!!!

elk plays in puddle!
whitetail fawns play in mud puddle!
picnic the deer plays in water!

we are so, so insignificant.

***

although, it should be reiterated that nothing beats christian the lion for me these days.

john donne concurs, in holy sonnet xii:

Why are wee by all creatures waited on?
Why doe the prodigall elements supply
Life and food to mee, being more pure than I,
Simple, and further from corruption?
Why brook'st thou, ignorant horse, subjection?
Why dost thou bull, and bore so seelily
Dissemble weaknesse, and by one mans stroke die,
Whose whole kinde, you might swallow and feed upon?
Weaker I am, woe is mee, and worse than you,
You have not sinn'd, nor need be timorous.
But wonder at a greater wonder, for to us
Created nature doth these things subdue,
But their Creator, whom sin, nor nature tyed,
For us, his Creatures, and his foes, hath dyed.

unlikely playlists are great

2010-08-04T08:18:00.003-04:00

i think it's pretty great that my brother's ipod has hoobastank and o-zone [the guys who do that terrible numa numa song] on his "alternative" playlist.

your soft, small hand. your soft, warm neck.

2010-08-03T22:27:00.001-04:00

friends, i urge you to read yann martel's beatrice and virgil. it will break your heart open, tear out all that is human in it, and replace it with the blood and bones of every animal in this kingdom of earth.

read this novel.
endure the agony of reading such a novel.
but read it.
it is a masterpiece.

but also, read george saunder's fox 8 if you can get your hands on a copy of issue #33 of McSweeney's. if you can't, email this guy [me] and i'll send you a scan of it.

great feet, clicky heels.

2010-07-31T22:04:00.002-04:00

carmen amaya

the rocket's adonis phd cousin and his aphroditic med-school gf paid us a visit last week and it was really great. and they showed us a video of the hottest flamenco dancer i have ever seen. it's safe to assume that she is among the cluster of new crushes i've been collecting [whoa alliteration!] this season. so bloody sexy, with just enough butch in that femme to make a fella crazy.

so, if you haven't heard or seen of her yet, i introduce to you the very great carmen amaya.

batter my heart, three person'd god

2010-07-28T12:09:00.005-04:00

hey folks, just wanted to let you know that even if you aren't fellow bloggers, you can still comment on posts and check off interesting, great, joy, or wtf!

i like short fiction. quite a bit. it's my modus operandi.

it's very different than poetry in that it doesn't suck.

okay, that's crude.

poetry is pretty great if your last name is shange, donne or cohen.

but leonard cohen is a poet/songwriter/musician - so he's kind of like a mutation of a poet.

a really awesome mutation like that of doctor manhattan.

i don't really know where i'm going with this.

i'm just pretty into those three.

and other mutation poets like tom waits, joanna newsom, kate bush and the like.

what about you?

do you have any mutation poets to suggest?

tom waits

animals are lovers

2010-07-25T18:12:00.002-04:00

i think it's really important for us as humans to pay homage to our animal friends. animals are lovers.
at their most primal, they can lock eyes with us and communicate a deep understanding. deeper than many humans. sometimes, my oldest cat stella and i stare at one another and i know that she is purring at my very soul.

consider christian the lion.

consider also tara the elephant and bella the dog.

and the now-famous kittens inspired by kittens.

animals are great.
so powerful!
so majestic!

<== this is stella. isn't she beautiful?

for the end is coming

2010-07-22T17:51:00.005-04:00

the long winding trail up the backs of your legs are places i peek through.

i couldn’t bear it if you rushed out on me to fetch anything but more time.

there is more to this.

here is every place for us.

these tall lands, these strong hands.

the overworked wild water pushes against our ankles
rushes around us, so happy to see you.

we belong here, we don’t belong anywhere else.

when you absently twist the hair at my neck, i feel fed and full.

it’s enough just to know i’m on the wire, here.

it’s going to be a war.

it’s going to be a hot day.

heavy as a grave.

we will push up against the soil
wrap our fingers to the roots, tug above us.

there is no reprieve.

no give.

there will be a last breath and it won’t be ours.

if i open my mouth wide enough, hymns trickle out
trailed by the loyal march of every ode.

when you touch me, i colour myself everywhere.

i could reign over love, with your heart on my left side.
in my left side.

i crown myself the ruler of the crown.

i run this town by the book of you.

i place my hand on your chest and the oath is we are here.

there is no return for these days.

these moments have enough weight to bury.

we are not the ones dying.

life is beautiful.

here we are.

your love is my drug

2010-07-21T10:48:00.005-04:00

hi guys! what a great morning. ke$ha is playing on the radio and it looks like rain. because my view from this office looks out into the country, the encroaching clouds look so powerful. we really have no control over anything in this world. just how we look at it.

Publish Post

photo by sasha ormond

speaking of perspectives. my two-colour-eyed partner, the rocket, has a flickr page full of her breathtaking photography. she's a pretty astonishing person and she finds/makes beautiful photographs. her current preferred method is polaroid, instant film, plastic cameras. i've never seen polaroids look so good. she's a genius, so please admire her work. if you like it enough, join the art of the letter facebook group, submit your address and she just might send you a beautiful print with a story.

feed the idiot box. feed the idiot box.

2010-07-20T11:11:00.009-04:00

before i begin my spike lee stroke-and-punch, i really need to tell you guys about something really great. it's a pixel game called cream wolf. you're an ice cream gentleman/lady who rides around town playing your creepy music and making ice cream cones for eager children. upon the arrival of a full moon, you lead them back to your home where you transform into... CREAM WOLF! after you eat kids, you obtain new and exciting ice cream flavours to feed to more little children. be careful not to run into the po-po or any news vans or you'll be busted or discovered!

onto the stroke-and-punch:

i have always been hesitant to watch spike lee "joints" because of all the hubbub surrounding him and his politics and rumoured white-hatred.

but a few months ago, i watched bamboozled (2000). it was my first spike lee film and it's never left me. it is intelligent, funny, insightful, moving, disturbing. really excellent. definitely in my top __ movies of all time. [ASIDE - this film has some of the greatest character names around: pierre delacroix, honeycutt, manray, junebug, big blak afrika]. watch this movie. WATCH IT. learn.

last night, however, the rocket and i watched spike lee's 2004 disaster, she hate me. wtf, guys. wtf. this movie was so unrepresentative of what spike lee is capable of. i spent half of the time with a furrowed brow and my shoulders to my ears. i do not know what he was trying to say. is giving your "man milk" to wannabe-lesbian-mom's an honourable or a shameful thing? is this a homophobic film? does it really pay to be the whistleblower to a large corporation on the cusp of finding a vaccination against the HIV virus? what the hell is happening, here? this movie is junk. i hate thee, she hate me. watch bamboozled, scoff at she hate me.

words that are great

2010-07-17T16:15:00.004-04:00

just in case you were worried i was vapid, here's something from leonard cohen's first novel, the favourite game:

we writers [and you writers/photographers/dancers/thinkers/artists all] spend our whole lives in agony trying to write a line like this. "poor lousy urban matador" is one of countless literary boners you will experience in this masterpiece.

i recommend this beauty for anybody who wants to dip their toe into the proverbial cohen ocean without getting wet [that's what she said!]. seriously, though. i'm new to cohen's written word and this was a perfect way to settle in. next stop, the spice-box of earth.

you pick up all the sluts off the streets and screw them in secret

2010-07-17T12:34:00.005-04:00

so the rocket introduced me to wicked-awesome musical virtuoso Icy Spicy Leoncie. my personal favourite is the spectacular raunch of sex crazy cop. in this catchy little tune, icy spicy leoncie berates her cop boyfriend [not even a real detective] for picking up sluts and "screwing them in secret". she also tells us that her sex crazy bf bangs those sluts all around town while she works all day at the disco. i think her frustration is totally justified. if i were working all day at the disco, i certainly wouldn't want to have to come home and deal with a guy who only likes cheap sex [cheap sex!]. what a jerk!

the use of "bang" also really strikes me as something uniquely great.

this song is vastly different than icy spicy leoncie's more playful teenage boy in town - where she admires what is hiding in that little youngsters trousers. trousers. also, unforgivable mall dance!

i smell a crossover artist sensation!

great odds

2010-07-16T09:59:00.002-04:00

what are the odds that i'd be listening to patti smith's hey joe and someone would call in to work and my co-worker would answer and say "hey joe"? i'd say the odds are pretty righteous.

guys, remember this?

2010-07-15T19:38:00.008-04:00

who would have thought that my attempt at film reviewing would be deemed too much for my little hometown? i think they were turned off by my reference to scissoring - which i imagined would have had such a great effect.

so, in an effort to redeem myself, i'm posting it here.

FILM: When Night is Falling (1995)

WRITER/DIRECTOR: Patricia Rozema

STARRING: Pascale Bussières, Rachael Crawford, Henry Czerny and Don McKellar [suck bag].

Catholic professor (Camille) meets travelling circus wild child (Petra). Your typical U-Haul lesbian love story, complete with one-liners that make you cringe and a feel good message that might make you cry, in spite of yourself.

I watched this film for the first time when I was fifteen; I missed a lot of the plot because I was dry-humping my girlfriend. I’ve had a soft spot for it ever since. [that's what she said]

I think it’s important for me to point out that this is one of the very few lesbian films that cast attractive women. These ladies are smoking hot and it definitely made it worth watching, even through the scenes poisoned by Don McKellar’s sucking. One of Canada’s greats? Kill me now. How is it fair that this guy is feeding his family with his “art”? [just realizing that the male equation of our across-the-hall neighbours - whom we have nicknamed "the assholes" - looks just like douche mckellar. and even though i sympathize with the recent death of his pretty awesome wife, Tracy Wright, i still think he sucks]

What can I say? I love these lezzo films. They’re so exceedingly schmaltzy, and chock full of amazing and memorable one-liners such as, “Camille, I’d love to see you in the moonlight with your head thrown back and your body on fire”. What?! This is gold. Pure lesbian gold.

Get this, a circus performer in flood pants and combat boots seduces a Christian mythology professor with a dead dog in her refrigerator in less than 24 hours. How does this happen? Maybe a strategically shot arrow into a window by a tree-climbing stalker? Maybe a conveniently out-of-town syrupy sweet boyfriend? Maybe a sex scene involving the elusive scissor position? Am I making this up? You should watch and find out.

I will never get enough of this movie. Ever.

things that are great!

2010-07-15T19:03:00.003-04:00

after much deliberation, i've decided to waste/utilize my time via blog. mostly, i'm going to post links and subsequent commentary on videos, photos, music and other internet ephemera. and sometimes i'll talk about things that are pretty great.

like you. you're pretty great. and marina abramovic. she's prolific.

i'd be remiss to ignore the amazing new fad i learned about today. it's called i-dosing. basically, you attempt to put yourself in a meditative state while listening to various signals and tones for an exhaustive 10 minutes. the theory is that it should stimulate your brain in the same way that peyote and other such hallucinogens do. one might assume that the result is euphoria. my opinion is that the result is probably a panic attack.