Red Light District

Things #3.14159:

...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 i took
a taxi home?

winter
big coat

me
digging
in pockets
for $

driver
looking
in mirror

yells

refusing
to drive me
any further

he
kicked me
out of
the cab

1/2 a block
from my house

i didn't
have
2 pay

Identity Management #2

What's In A Name?

For a few years now, I have been dabbling with writing a series of short stories based on the zany and bizarre antics that occur in a small fictional Ontario town with a population of about 2,500 people.

In the centre of the narrative is Aunt Millie who, of course, owns and operates the celebrated Millie's Diner located directly across the street from the Bus Depot. Even though it gives some people the wind something fierce, her rabbit pot-pie is lauded far and wide across the Tri-County Area.

Also in the narrative is Millie's nephew Calvin. He's 21, grew up with his Aunt, attended the local Lutheran College for Men, and after graduating, caught the acting bug. He's moved to the big city where he has built a reputation for himself as one of the brightest stars on the porn-movie sidewalk of fame.

Calvin comes home repeatedly to the small town to visit his Aunt and other more colourful figures in the small town.

Figures such as the local counter-tenor, Albo Entre who, in many ways was responsible for infecting Calvin with the aforementioned bug.

It was a few years back when the town built it's performing arts centre -- the Pandemonium Theatre. Albo Entre had been approached to mount the gala opening production, and he wrote, designed, directed, and produced a magificent show indeed: a Broadway-style musical adaptation of Freud's 'The Interpretation of Dreams.'

It was an astounding success. The original cast recording sold like hot-cakes on eBay and, Calvin, cast in the lead, was struck with stars in his eyes.

And the rest is history, so to speak.

Since the town itself plays such an integral part in the narrative, I took considerable time in creating its name.

The fictional town of Rocton.
Rocton, Ontario.

About 8 months ago, I discovered, much to my chagrin that the town of Rocton, Ontario is anything but fictional.

And my bubble was burst. I spent hours trying to come up with a new name but nothing would fit.

When I'm trying to get comfortable with a new name, I use kiddy fridge magnets so the name is always in my face and I can acclimatize myself to it.

I'm having problems with Dahlburg. It's just not working.

Portfolio 3:

Portfolio 2:

My Closet: Winter

This is my Winter collection. I try to go for bright colours. A lot of empty hangers though, on account of the fact that I wear a lot of sweaters.

In the Spring and Summer, I own and wear so many plaid shirts that people make fun of me.

There's a sarong up on the top shelf. A friend gave it to me years ago. I wear it around the apartment during the Winter time 'cause it's nice and warm. I don't have the balls to wear it out in public during the warmer weather. Or the legs.

And yes, those are my porn magazines.

I live alone; I don't have to hide them in my sock-drawer. Come to think of it, I don't actually have a sock-drawer. It's more of a sock-slash-underwear bag...

Portfolio 1:

Things #29-749r:

...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

when
in a sleepy
drunken stupor
i decided to
fry eggs?

i keep
my Silly Putty
in the fridge

the smell
made me
puke

but
it glowed
in the dark

Things #78b:

...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 i attempted
to defrost
frozen grated cheese
in a microwave?

the end result
was not
the end result
i had hoped 4

Racial Profiling:

Oink, Oink:

In celebration of what's left of the Chinese calendar, I have decided to take pictures all year long of the two piggies around my apartment...

Where's Thomas

Numerous individuals on numerous occassions have made certain numerous remarks comparing me to Waldo. As in, 'Where is.'

On account of the glasses.

I've also been told that I look like Woody Allen and Michael Stipe. I like the REM comparison 'cause he's hot.

Short but hot.

i think
i look
like
a fish

but
i am
not
coy

i am
though
naked

actually
i think
i was
wearing boxers
when i
took this

photograph