brutal

I'm awakened at 7am this morning to a vicious pounding. My rational mind is clearly not functioning so I imagine that our house is falling down, or someone is trying to break down the front door. I jump out of bed and start running around, eventually throwing open the front door only to find a man with a pick axe and another in a backhoe mercilessly pounding on the road, about four feet from my house (true, I do live four feet from the road; but it's disconcerting none-the-less). So now I'm awake, there is constant yet erratic house-shaking pounding happening outside my door, and I've been asleep no more than 3.5 hours. A bystanding city worker cheerfully apologizes and informs me that indeed the city contracted them to start early, but they don't start until 9am on weekends. Great. Too bad it isn't a Saturday. The irony: city-hall isn't open for me to file a complaint.

And why would I want to complain? Because I'm a spasm perhaps? Or maybe it's because there's a backhoe pounding the road four feet from my door? (Did I mention that it's 7am?) That could be it...

city slickers

I joined the exodus this weekend (sheepishly explaining to my cab driver that yes, I was among the many middle class city-slickers who were off to seek peace in the wilderness for the long weekend) and found myself with my P.I.C in a cottage-y setting, surrounded by farmland and woodland and silence. It was both soothing and terrifying, as it was a sharp contrast to the usual cityscape.

The story goes that when my grandfather died last year, he left a bit of money to my mum. Because she is interested in land conservation/restoration (simply put, she's a tree-hugging, nature-loving, granola-eating, etc. pseudo-hippie), she bought this old farm. It has me thinking of course about environmental ethics, preservation, and property owernship. What does it all mean? I'm really too tired to pontificate (thankfully).

They have interesting neighbours. Franklin the beef farmer, who thinks all city-folk are fools (and is not afraid to show it, with plenty of good-natured ribbing), and Mike the retired professor with a love of nature and hot-tubs. My weekend was full of friendly people, small animals, apple blossoms, septic-tank mishaps, sex on blow-up mattresses, mold and allergy attacks, swamps, spiders, and precarious river crossings. I can't wait to go back.

And now, the picture show.



apple blossoms (and fun with quick masks)


miscellaneous flora and fauna




I found some anthropomorphic trees on my travels (abstract visions of anatomy, one bearing a striking resemblance to a cunt)


Crossing the bridge of sighs


Basking in the sun

bric à brac

I woke up this morning
to plant a garden
lived in a world
of boxes and bad poetry
drank wine on a sunwarm deck
of cedarwood ambrosia
left the night sky laughter
retreating into bedknots

i like colours

I recently discovered the joys of quick masks in photoshop. When I read about what I could do, I almost came in my pants. Beautiful...orgasmic...colour! I felt like Einstein discovering the theory of relativity (only difference being that no one had thought of that before...and he was a genius). But this is forever going to change the way I use selecting in photoshop. Oh-yeah baby.

Here's some samples of the fun I've been having.

Before



After










The pepper roasting is my favourite: it's a rough demonstration of how you can even do fades with the masks!
God I'm so excited; am I a dork? Ah well...

vending absurdity

While driving through Mount Forest recently, during an excursion North through a little April snow-fall, I spotted this whimsical oddity and had to take a picture. Poor wormi-kins.

Laughter takes my mind off the pain

a new addition

After reading the funniest history ever, I decided to post about the new little one. I hope to adequately fulfill the 'banal, anecdotal' requirements.

One budgie flew away. I wrote about it, but in a fit of self-consciousness, took down the post. But that is what happened. So the remaining budgie was miserable, with only his lonely reflection to cuddle with and regurgitate on. So it was off to Yorkdale (unfortunately) and home with a new winged thing. He, or she, is quite cute and photo-friendly. I guess I may now be considered part of the coincedence (though I doubt it's meaningful).

The bird unfortunately enjoys climbing on my bike; resulting in frequent and unpleasant foot-washing with vegetable soap. It also likes eating hair and hiding in small spaces. What a weirdo.





I am evil budgie.


I wanted to call it flufficula, but my partner-in-crime has a predilection for naming small animals after great historical warlords and revolutionaries. The birds name is Che.

house-keeping

after someone i don't know remarked on how boring i am, which actually hurt more than expected, i've decided to remove unnecessary boring...i guess i'm sensitive because i've been feeling boring, well, my whole life

hyper-experiential

I find it interesting that in moments of extreme doubt that anything other than nothing exists, meaning and interconnectedness emerge. I have been feeling the same damn thing.

An experiment. I haven't decided yet if it's going to be lame, or cool

words from the garden of God

Days

On the first day
I held my hand as it drew a coffin
so they sent me a wreath
On the second day
I held my hand as it drew a flower
so they sent me a coffin
On the third day I shouted out
I want to live
so they sent me a killer


Mr. Poet, one fabulous Ibrahim Nasrallah