Canada's Birthday

July 1st, 2008. I was having dinner with Susan who lives on the 18th floor of an apartment building directly across the forks of the river Thames where the birthday celebrations were taking place. The people living on the north side of the building are afforded the greatest view in the city of the magnificent fireworks display which ends the celebrations. Susan lives on the south side of the building; we were afforded a magnificent view of the gnarls of cars and pedestrians coursing their way into the park at the forks for the display.

I decided to leave for home just before the fires worked; I was in no mood for crowds and I knew that as soon as the display was over, masses would be pouring out of the party-park and I wanted a head start.

Walking away from the impending spectacular booms in the sky I saw 100s of thousands of $s in digital camera equipment in the hands of people running down towards the forks. Not generally known as a size-queen, I saw one man with such a tele-photo lens the size of which made me sweat and purr. And there were so many tripods plotted out in parking lots that for a moment, I thought that City Hall had gone a little too far in trying to reforest the Forest City. Hey, if you know London, Ontario, you know some pretty weird trees!

It was three blocks away when the first bang boomed across the skies. I turned, looked, pulled out my punky little camera and began shooting. I had too. Not one normally interested in taking pictures of mountains, moons, loons on a lake, lovers in a park, Canadian geese, Mounties, or even nice buildings, I aimed and clicked.

These are a few of them. I like them. The first photographs of fireworks I've ever taken. And just like the fireworks themselves, these images are not the best in the world, but I'll bet you dimes-to-donuts, they're a hell of a lot better than many that were taken by others at that very moment.

And more importantly, they're the only ones on my blog!

Happy Birthday, Canada!

26 Poems...

...gleaned* from the dialogue-track of Disney's animated movie, 'Aladdin.'

i can't
believe it
i'm losing
2
a rug

splendid
absolutely
marvelous

i am not
a prize
to be
won

but
oh
to be
free
call me al

i will have
the power
2 get
rid of
u

father
what's
wrong
with u?

the truth?
the truth?
the truth
is

over
sideways
and
under
on a
magic-carpet
ride

now
i'm in
a whole new world
with u

ity
bity
living
space

a snake
am i?

i never
actually wished
to get out of
the
cave

now
where
were
we?
ah yes
abject
humiliation

how
many times
do i
have to
kill u
boy?

oh
shut-up
u moron

i'm history
no
i'm mythology

him
i choose
u

i'm not
worthless
and
i don't
have fleas

there's
so much more
2 me

i am
in desperate need
of your
wisdom
but
it's been
in the
family
4
years

pretty lady
buy
a pot

there is
a cave boy
a cave
of wonders

carpet
let's
move

did u
rub
my lamp?

no
no
please

do u mind
if
i kiss
the monkey?

*(The Gleaner is currently at work on a screenplay for an animated film version of the Broadway stage musical adaptation of the original animated film classic of Disney's 'The Lion King.' To date, Pixar Studios has not returned any of his calls. He did, though, receive a rather bemusing, nasty little note from Dreamworks which he is in the process of framing in order to put on his wall.)

Portfolio 4:

An Apology:

This is not my friend Shelly.

Neither, so it seems, is the individual in the photograph in the last posting labelled Friends. Non-Friends ('This is my friend Shelly.')

It is, though, my friend Shelley and after she notified me of the spelling mistake, I promised her that I would post an offial retraction (Isn't that what happens when you remove someone's guts) -- official retraction. This is it.

I'm sorry Shelley. And even though it adds an extra letter -- meaning work -- to your name, I won't do it again.

Shelley brought to my attention one last blatant error I made in that same posting: she does not dance the Tango but has, in fact, studied the Flamingo although I think she's in denial. She mentioned nothing about Paris, Texas -- the place or the movie -- but she did mention the fact that she was particularly touched in my description of her as being complex and having layers. I told her that at the time of that posting, I had just installed Adobe's Photoshop: as far as I was concerned, everything had layers.

And curves. But I wasn't about to describe her as having curves on account of the fact that people may get the wrong impression. I mean, don't get me wrong, Shelley's swell, but she's an inny and I'm an outy kind of guy. And I couldn't exactly talk about her histogram, now, could I? At least not in public...

Sorry Shelley.

Identity Management #6

I can be shadowy in nature.

Nicholas used to call me 'Golum.'It was a term-of endearment. Presently, he doesn't call me. Anything. Anytime.

Friend. Non-Friend.

This is my friend Shelly.

She's a photographer. She's also an author and has studied dance. The tango, I believe. She went on a trip last year to Paris (that's in France. I know: it's also in Texas and it's also in Ontario but she went to the French one. And oddly enough, Shelly's the type of gal who's probably been to the Texas one and the Ontario one as well. She's deep, complex; she has layers) and took some really beautiful pictures.

It's kind of hard to tell from this photograph but she's wearing a really nice, sort-of maroon-coloured, suede jacket. Almost the same colour as her hair.

It's spikey.

The hair, not the jacket.


This is not my friend Shelly.

I get the impression that her name is something along the lines of 'Dawn' but that just might be me. For all I know, her name could be something along the lines of 'Little Baby Betty Wetty Wet Wet' except she wouldn't be 'little' on account of the fact that, for a doll, she is really huge. My friend Shelly (see above) also took a picture of this.

Being a Sunday, the store was closed so I have no idea how much LBBWWW was selling for.

A perverse thought if you think about it.

If you look closely, you'll notice that LBBWWW ain't wearing no underwear.

A perverse thought if you think about it.

Take one, last, close look at the photograph. If you had been walking down the street past us, past the window, you would have heard the two of us spontaneosly burst into song.

'We are siamese, if you please.'

You had to be there.

Identity Management #5

I have to get two, new pairs of glasses. The first, bifocals. The second, reading. Which ones should I get? I kind of like the last two pairs...

I Have Visions...

...well, sort of. I don't actually see things. Well actually, sometimes, I guess I do; there are those occasions just before I fall asleep with eyes wide shut that I kind of see things, I guess, on the insides of my eyelids. Faces, usually. Weird and dim and always artistic black and white (grainy, of course), they mix and morph and bink, I'm asleep.

Anyways, the kind of visions I'm referring to occur when I'm wide awake, walking around minding my own beeswax, and I'll see someone doing something and suddenly somewhere in my mind, they do something else.

You know what I'm talking about. I think we all do it. You look up into a clear blue sky and you see a single jet-liner way, way, way up there, slowly going on its way, way, way up there way. And suddenly you think it; it simply goes Piff. And there, way, way, way up there is the left-over cloud of an explosion. And you think 'Oh, look at that,' and you continue on your merry way.

That kind of vision.

These are two visions that I had a few days ago; last Monday to be exact.

Number One: I was walking downtown along a major east-west corridor. Close to the downtown core, I came a red light at an intersection with a major north-south corridor and stopped and waited for the little white hand. The north-south traffic was steady for a spell. And when a break came, another pedestrian walked from behind me and proceeded to jay-walk across the intersection. It was a tubby young boy and I watched as he waddled across the road glancing both ways as if judging his chances.

No traffic coming from the south and a few vehicles coming from the north -- a half a block away lead by a very large bulldozer with its shovel down.

The bulldozer was traveling as fast as it could. The tubby young boy, seeing the bulldozer, waddled as fast as he could. And that's when I had my vision:

Suddenly, the bulldozer discovered it could travel much faster and as it gunned-it, the tubby young boy discovered that he couldn't travel much faster. Careening through the intersection, the bulldozer slooped up the tubby young boy in its shovel and, raising him high up into the air, whisked him off to fat-camp, much to the chagrin of the tubby young boy who, glancing down in horror, realized that the bulldozer was being driven by his Mother.

Number Two: It was late in the evening, I was at the central library, and I was going home. Leaving through a large corridor leading to the main entrance, I noticed one of the many meeting rooms busy with what must have been some sort of meeting.

As I approached, I noticed a reception table, a few signs, and as I walked beside the room, I saw dozens of small children sitting at small round tables. They were all writing on pads in front of them and a couple of adults seemed to be hovering above them like bees.

Then I noticed one of the signs, and seeing the word 'bee,' I realized that I was observing some sort of regional spelling bee. And that's when I had my vision.

I burst into the room, throw out my arms, scream 'Next word: paedophilic!' and run out of the room as fast as I can!

A Picture's Worth.

No Comment...

People I know #1

Portfolio 4:

My Impression...

I get the impression, and it's a general one, I get the impression that no one visits my blog. I've tried; god knows I've tried to advertize it. I've told my 7 friends about it and a few of them have visited it and a few of those few have even remarked to me that they must tell a friend about it. But nothing...

And why not nothing?

Well, recently I have come to the conclusion that the reason people do not go to my blog is, because most of them are too busy creating their own blogs, or e-mailing other people about insane things that they have seen on utube.

Fine. 'Cause what that means to me -- all you people who will never see my blog -- is that I can create and post images such as what follows and no one will be the least bit offended by it. Unfortunate really; I like the 50s-60s feel to it and I think it's worthy of discussion.



What? What's the problem? It's a still life, that's all. And the colour has nothing to do with nothing except the fact that the only other choice I had was one that was a very day-glo green with glitter. And that's just not my scene.

Apartment Parts 1:

Identity Management #4

Still Life #3:

Editorial #1:

Still Life #2:

Still Life #1:

Green Thumb?

I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I make sure they get good lighting, I water them regularly, even fertilize them on occasion. But they just aren't growing.

Maybe my apartment's too dry...

Four A-Musings:

One: An Inconvenience Truth or An Algorey. The only thing more inconvenient than an automatically revolving door is an automatically revolving door that doesn’t.

Two: Art 101. Trying to have an intelligent conversation with an hypocritical and/or highly opinionate individual can be as futile as walking in the rain with your newest watercolour. Yet, the end results can be quite thought-provoking, beautiful, and worthy of study.

Three: Being a Prince is akin to being a lead character in a screen play optioned by a major motion picture studio. You live a life, you say things, do things; you exist. Yet once in principle production, you are told how to say things, how to dress, what to eat and who to associate with when off camera, and when it comes to your motivation, you are told why you think what you think.

Four: Human, All Too Human. Sometimes, when I look out of my apartment window, I wish I were a squirrel. What a life! All they do is endlessly run round, pee on their territory and then defend it, fight with others, eat and get fat, try to stay warm in the winter time, have sex, and occasionally get hit by a car.

Wait a minute…

Two Shorts About Dogs:

The First: I ran into a dog the other day which I wanted to take home with me which is rather odd on account of the fact that I am not a dog person.

No: I have no idea what breed it was. But it was a puppy. And as everyone knows, puppies are cute.

When I win the lottery – not if, but when I win the lottery, I’m going to become a genetic scientist. I’ll hire an assistant, build a smart and stylish, little laboratory, and come up with a drug, an injection that I can give to puppies that will make them always remain in the pleasant state of perpetual puppieness.

I will patent this formula and, of course, make a fortune. Maybe even a Nobel Prize. For Peace, perhaps. ‘Cause quite frankly, if the World was full of puppies, we would have everlasting peace, and that would be swell.

Then I’ll move onto kittens!


The Second: I didn’t notice the dog at first which is odd on account of the fact that other than I, he was the only other thing standing at the bus stop.

Short, small, taunt and tight, he scratched himself, licked his balls, attempted to wag his tail, then looked at me directly with dark brown eyes.

At first, when he asked me if I would take him home with me, I didn’t know how to respond.

‘I have a cat,’ I finally said.

‘Nice cat?’

‘Neutered…’

I didn’t know that dogs could frown. He frowned.

‘Sad, really,’ He remarked, looking at his tail as if he had just realized that he had a tail to look at.

I added that I also had a goldfish, and I wanted to tell him about that little cactus I’ve had for-ever, but he simply turned and walked away.

My Halloween Story:

Wednesday, October 31st, 2007: Close to the large park in the center of the city sits a coffee shop; part of a large and global chain, the name of which shall remain nameless, if that makes sense. Let’s just say that the name of the coffee shop does not include the names, Tim, Timothy, and it may be first among coffee shops, but it’s not the Second.

I was sitting at a table in the window, looking out across the intersection towards the park. Off in the distance I noticed an adult man walking with a small little girl. From head to toe, she was wearing pink. Something puffy on top and blowing flouncy on the bottom. Looking at her, I tried desperately to figure out what kind of costume she was wearing. All I could think of was the fact that, as far as I was concerned, she was wearing a really ugly get-up. I gave up and went back to reading the newspaper.

About five minutes later, I looked out the window again and noticed that the man and girl were crossing the street directly across from the coffee shop.

Yes, it was an older man. No, it was not a little girl in some sort of weird and pink costume. It was, in fact, a woman suffering from autism. She was quite possibly in her late 20s, there was a very good chance that she was the older man’s daughter, and what I assumed was a stupid, ugly, and not terribly convincing costume was, in fact, nothing more than a display of this young woman’s penchant for the colour pink.

I suddenly felt horrible. Yet I still couldn’t help laughing which made me feel even worse.

I Believe In Snow Angels

Identity Management #3

Portfolio 4:

Things #90210r-9:

...things I would say to a boyfriend (if I had a boyfriend) as we lay snuggled within one-another's arms just before we fell asleep...


did i
ever
tell you
about
the time

that my
mother
threw
my matress
and
entire contents
of
my
very messy

bedroom

down
the stairs
into
the basement?

i wanted
to
go out
and play
before
dinner

i was 8

it was
thanksgiving

the
turkey
was
sensational
and i
held back
tears as
the guests
fought
over
the
stuffing

she
always
made
the best
stuffing
ever

I Don't Own Any Rats 2008