observing techniques of the observer

i'm leaving on a jet plane

just a couple hours more and i will go from here to there. let the end of the year/beginning of the year celebrations and gatherings begin...

two days after christmas...

and i feel nostalgic, content, happy, purple, sad, pensive, hopeful + much/all more. there are days at home when we are transported to another time, another place, to a land of past memories with a crossbridge to the equally prominent land of future memories yet to be made. is it the comfort of being at home, of being surrounded by those who love us, despite everything, that allows the mind a certain space to explore and wander? we are afforded a time away from time that usually occupies our daily mindlessness. in these moments, i find myself longing for the beach, for the sound of the ocean waves in my ears, and the giving way of sand beneath my feet. i desire the fleeting moment of sand between my fingers, watching it fall between the crevices so gracefully until i realize again the emptiness in my palm. for now, my book comforts me. comfort perhaps is the wrong word, as i am not unhappy or maladjusted. but anyhow, for now i can find myself lost in the pages of words until the moment when i can lose myself in the calm repetition of the sea.

christmas memories

"Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home! But I am sure that I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round... as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely. I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year." -Charles Dickens

merry-almost-christmas-eve

my dad the recycling genius

ugh...so tired and tummy not feeling good...will explain later. short version: old fire-burning fireplace that we cannot burn anymore, dad uses the found old working parts from thrown away hot water heater, modifies them, buys a few pipes + an on off switch, runs a line off the main natural gas live and VOILA! a super cool heating element that i think can be modified into a wonderfully cool industrial stove. okay, phone calls and then bed for me...ow...ow...ow...teatime.

hmmm...making my vlogging better

checking out bliptv...seems this might be the more popular vlog-vlog-vlogging site than youtube.

nice to be home....but i am sooo very tired. this always seems to happen to me, come home, the body fails me.

in addition, i think i may be suffering from some sort of strange culture shock. my eyes cannot seem to handle all the asphalt. i went to larger than life grocery stores today and experienced parking lot mania. thank god i went to the supermarket first because afterwards came costco. i've never been so turned off to such mass consumption of consumerism. ugh...makes me even more tired.

it's raining. which is way the heck a lot better than snow.

need to write about my wonderful good-bye night in montreal. truly a most memorable evening...thank you guys. *mwah*mwah* kisses to all of you.

time to play with movies...need something mindless.

driving thru the sunset that crosses time & place

like-ugh-goodbye

whatever...

a footnote for my essays

blurred endings & beginnings

"i wanted a perfect ending. now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next." -gilda radner

christmas jollies

ok, it's now 1 minute to 5 in the morning...too much coffee and too much thesis work, too much trying to write and form imaginary architectural programs that are meaningful, and too much sitting in front of the computer has me going just about crazy. needed a little mind-break. anyhow, was just walking down the streets of montreal the other night and saw this most hilarious christmas storefront display...if you need a laugh, well, just watch. it's real short, promise. my 10 minute break is now up.

next project: build a radar that can detect potential happiness

from the pages of my sketchbook, drawn on october 11, 2005 while listening to a.p-g speak phenomenal life truths. a compilation of things overheard re: what happiness is...i do not remember where they all came from===> "happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony"..."happiness consists in activity. it is a running stream, not a stagnant pool"..."the greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves"..."they must often change, whose who desire to be constant in happiness or wisdom"..."true happiness comes from the joy of deeds well done, the zest of creating things new"..."each morning the day lies like a fresh shirt on our bed; this incomparably fine, incomparably tightly woven tissue of pure prediction fits us perfectly. the happiness of the next twenty-four hours depends on our ability, on waking, to pick it up."

just like being a child again

tonight i remembered the christmas holidays...in fact, one particular christmas eve with family in the now sold san francisco house. i have a vague recollection of the real memory in my mind. what is more vivid are the playbacks of video from my uncle's newly bought video camera recorder (this was in the 80's so imagine a ginormous black contraption sitting atop his shoulders...heehee.) the video shows me as a five, no maybe six year old. my hair cut in the short beatles bowl cut that was typical of my elementary school years, and the red and white, mostly red velvet dress. imagine a fairy-tale heidi of the swiss alps type dress, just in red with white lace. anyhow, although i was not playing dress-up in this particular instance (there are other stories of me pretending to be the queen of england, to be disclosed at a later time ;b) i was smiley and happy, roaming about the house, around the potluck fooded table, singing and most importantly twirling about. yes, me, twirling...can you imagine? if you do not believe me, i'm sure i can ask uncle for the tape and we can watch my silliness abound for your personal enjoyment and my personal humiliation. tonight, i remembered this as i tried on liz-girl's all too big heels, and watched her twirl about in her all too pretty fuschia new year's dress.

REMembering chicago

twiddling her thumbs like an evil sorcerer

heehee...a new video is in the works...but highly top secret. check back after the new year's for the revealing. ;b

maria elisa & marcelo say good-bye with beautiful handmade-by-them bracelets, shimmery cards of golden statues wrapped in cellophane, & words of love.

close and intimate with paulie ricoeur

"Look at us, library rats turned into walking encyclopedias; individuals, void of any creative instinct, reduced to wearing masks, born with grey hairs. Historians, charged to guard history, have become eunuchs and history a harem which they oversee. It is no longer the eternal feminine that draws us upward – as in the closing verses of Goethe’s Faust – but the eternal objective, celebrated by our historical education and culture…the genuine historian must have the strength to recast the well known into something never heard before and to proclaim the general so simply and profoundly that one overlooks its simplicity because of its profundity and its profundity because of its simplicity. It is this strength that makes all the difference between master and slave." -Paul Ricoeur in “Towards a Hermeneutics of Historical Consciousness”

dinner @ villa isabelle

there are evenings which are meant to memorable. this was one of them. thank you both for giving me such smiles and tears, happiness and longing, for reading the destiny of my name, and sharing in silliness of schmorgasborg (sp?)...for filling a hole that exists in me with the jiggliness of wonderful red jello.

currently listening 2 >> > > > > >>

at java u...listening to soothing sounds on this sunday afternoon trying to muster up my creative thinking skills. once again will attempt to begin/revise/finish my critical writing paper. i have sat down so many times this past week, started typing, gotten 3 pages into it, and then "file-quit-do you want to save" answer "no". i see this as the modern day equivalent to crumpling up a piece of paper and throwing it across the room into the garbage. for some reason the file-quit-save-no process is so anti-climatic. maybe i should just keep a stack of old papers already meant for garbage next to me so i can just crumple them at the appropriate moments. not a bad idea, a kind of "take out all your frustrations" ritual. i suppose that wouldn't be such a wise idea in public places such as java-u. anyhow, here is a sampling of the sounds which resonate with me today, yesterday, and as of recent...hehe...decided to write the lyrics that echo with me since i know not all of you like my music choices (eh-hem, bg...heehee). maybe you will find the poetry in the words themselves minus the music. (bg, miss you much, you don't call me back or text me, how come? 6 days till we meet again...the official less-than-a-week countdown has begun.)

"the trapeze swinger" (iron&wine)

Please, remember me Happily By the rosebush laughing With bruises on my chin The time when We counted every black car passing Your house beneath the hill And up until Someone caught us in the kitchen With maps, a mountain range, A piggy bank A vision too removed to mention But Please, remember me Fondly I heard from someone you're still pretty And then They went on to say That the pearly gates Had some eloquent graffiti Like 'We'll meet again' And 'Fuck the man' And 'Tell my mother not to worry' ...Please, remember me At Halloween Making fools of all the neighbors Our faces painted white By midnight We'd forgotten one another And when the morning came I was ashamed Only now it seems so silly That season left the world And then returned And now you're lit up by the city So Please, remember me Mistakenly...Please, remember me As in the dream...Please, remember me My misery...Please, remember me Seldomly...Please, remember me Finally...

"when you smile" (the flaming lips)

It’s like I never had to see it in your eyes or feel it I could tell when you smile. It’s like I didn’t need to say anything or do much, I could tell When you smile All of the subatomic pieces come together and Unfold themselves in a second...Every single molecule is right, when All of the subatomic pieces come together and unfold Themselves in a second.

"the bends" (radiohead)

Where do we go from here? The words are coming out all wierd Where are you now when I need you? Alone on an aeroplane Falling asleep against the window pane My blood will thicken. I need to wash myself again to hide all the dirt and pain I’d be scared that there’s nothing underneath And who are my real friends? Have they all got the bends? Am I really sinking this low? ...And I wish it was the sixties I wish I could be happy I wish I wish I wish that something would happen...I want to live and breathe I want to be part of the human race.

"dig for fire" (pixies)

There is this old woman She lives down the road You can often find her Kneeling inside of her hole And I often ask her Are you looking for the mother lode? Huh? No. No my child, this is not my desire And then she said I’m digging for fire ...There is this old man Who spent so much of his life sleeping That he is able to keep awake for the rest of his years He resides On a beach In a town Where I am going to live And I often ask him Are you looking for the mother lode? Huh? No. No my child, this is not my desire And then he said I’m digging for fire...

"the love that i crave" (the blow)

The love that I crave is a polar bear to gore me. Then, I'd know the force with which she adored me. The love of my dreams is the stuff of my nightmares- when I wake up in screams that's how I know that I really care. I must await the swing of the scorpion's tail, because my impatient advances always end up so pathetic. Little pinches and pokes don't mean a thing compared to a true arrival and the shock that it brings. Pick it up, try it, get tired of it, rewind. I'm so tired of being wasted just chasing the same old thing. I want to get hit by a big thing, come take me, change me.

"he lays in the reins" (iron&wine)

One more drink tonight as your gray stallion rests Where he lays in the reins For all of the speed and the strength he gave One more kiss tonight from some tall stable girl She’s like grace from the earth When you’re all tuckered out and tame One more tired thing the gray moon on the rise When your want from the day Makes you to curse in your sleep at night One more gift to bring we may well find you laid Like your steed in his reins Tangled too tight and too long to fight

"come on petunia" (the blow)

Every little thing she does is magic. Every thing she does just turns me on. Even though my life before was tragic, now I know my love for her goes on. "Come on Petunia", you thought in your head, "It would all be so easy if you could be led to the cave where I hide you in linens and frames, and in new combinations I've made of our names. It's a tiny hole, yeah, but you'd fit if I sliced you up wee itty bitty, I'd sliver and splice you and then you could be many, and I'd be the one who was privy to love you and show you the fun." Every little thing she does is magic. Every thing she does just turns me on. Even though my life before was tragic, now I know my love for her goes on...I resolved to call her up a thousand times a day I thought I'd ask her if she'd marry me in some old fashioned way well but my silent fears persisted and before i reached the phone like before my tongue has twisted must I always be alone. You're all jenny and lindsey and fine and I'm underwater, I'm shedding my mind. And I'm pretty sure baby if you'd hold my head I could live like I've wished for and undo my dread, because, I see candygrams up in the ceiling tiles, witty postcards sent off from the sandwich isles. In these towns where vacations will lead us, I'll hold out my treasures and their wealth will feed us. But, oh, she does as she wishes, and no, she won't be your missus. You kingdom it widens and you're there alone with all that love, and the void on your throne. Every little thing she does is magic. Every thing she does just turns me on. Even though my life before was tragic, now I know my love for her goes on.

"hide and seek" (imogen heap)

THIS SONG IS JUST MEANT TO BE LISTENED TO...PREFERABLY EYES CLOSED, SITTING ON THE BEACH DEEP INTO THE NIGHT, THE CRASHING OF THE WAVES IN THE BACKGROUND AND COLD MISTY SPRAY OF SEA SALT ON YOUR FACE.

"the passives" (the faint)

left eye spins in circles, passives line the rail. they get no satisfaction from the electro-static breaks. a beat can't cut the passives loose they're afraid what we will say. no harm is done when you try it then hide. parts moving - keep moving. a cool collected life is a safe move... you heard that. you're unsure but its clear to us. come to terms, you're alone here observing. every time you go out you observe. walk past collared passives. don't look toward their eyes. it adds to their discomfort, shows there's some confidence they miss.

"hock it" (the blow)
You're so slidy with your tender lines, I know you take the babies by the hand. And it's all fine until you tug my time, that's how you put your fuel into demand. Chests ablaze with just the aiming of your gaze you can blink and watch the ladies take a fall. I recall the soft heat of when you left me in the street and I watched you walk on. Hearts beat quicker when your eyes provide the liquor, it's enough to flood the bachelorette parties all the girls would throw, if they thought the groom would show- but they know that he won't. He's a punk, won't give it up. Hot looks but he can't touch. The ----something or other--- is the chase. To catch your gaze is like a bird within the hand. It began so nice, but now I'm trapped inside, it seems your cage for me must be the plan. You mean tricks, like the wetness of your lips when you say, "just put your heart here in my hand." And though I know you might hock it, I can't keep it in my pocket. I've tried, but I can't. Oh man. I can see, and all the fellas they agree, that a boy like you is not to be trusted. But it's just so hot, it incinerates my thoughts, and I'm not really able to make it stop. Your hot staring, though it seems it might be caring, I know that it's me that you're gonna drop. But I don't unh care, I'm as happy half aware. Keep it there, hot eyes. Your tease is the best prize.

"cumulus" (imogen heap)
"hey you" (the blow)
"well you needn't" (solvent)
"la chanson des deja vieux de demain" (les acrobates)
"photograph" (weezer)
If you want it, you can have it But you’ve got to learn to reach out there and grab it ’cause everybody wants some love Shooting from the stars above And though my heart will break There’s more that I could take I could never get enough If you need it, you should show it ’cause you might play so monastic that you blow it ’cause everybody wants some hope Something they can barely know And though my heart will break There’s more that I could take I could never let it go It’s in the photograph It’s in the photograph It’s in the photograph of love ’cause everybody wants a dream Something they can barely see And though my heart will break There’s more that I could take I could never let it be It’s in the photograph It’s in the photograph It’s in the photograph of love If you blew it, don’t reject it Just sit drawing up the plans and re-erect it Just sit drawing up the plans and re-erect it Just sit drawing up the plans and re-erect it
"the forest - tree mix" (the cure) so hypnertomachia polyphilo!
Come closer and see See into the trees Find the girl If you can Come closer and see See into the dark Just follow your eyes Just follow your eyes I hear her voice Calling my name The sound is deep In the dark I hear her voice And start to run Into the trees Into the trees Into the trees Suddenly I stop But I know it’s too late I’m lost in a forest All alone The girl was never there It’s always the same I’m running towards nothing Again and again and again and again

oh-happy-snowy-days-of-montreal

another happy day thanks to a flickr mail just received...the snow is coming down, and laundry awaits drying...but at least i will have my buttercup-mini to fill my ears with soothing sounds and the book in hand at the moment, victoria finlay's "colour: travels through the paintbox"...

since you will miss it, this is the best that i can do...complete with ticket and everything, just for you.

ok, ok...so i know it is not the best quality of video, my camera is 4 years old now and can only take 30 second clips max...anyhow, i tried to piece together a bunch of the clips and the transitions kind of are sucky...but heck, i'm trying my best to do with what i have, as technologically defunct that i am at the moment. isabellnecessary's critique word for word "not my cup of tea...the music kept on changng violently like that, or were these your edits?...I thought it was crap!" well almost word for word with a little manipulative twist to show how mean she is being...hehe. anyhow...on to the crappy video clip.

"let's go dancing to music from unknown sources in deserted piazzas"

june 2005, stefanie and i stumbled haphazardly upon this empty piazza while wandering venice. there was music floating in the air...no one was watching, so we decided to dance. such a happy moment of spontaneity for me. now she is moving to fairbanks, alaska to build mobile tent structures. talk about spontaneous. i hope that her move goes smoothly, and she can survive the below-zero-degree weather long enough for me to come visit and see the aurora borealis...it's going to be amazing, stefania!

because it's been said that it's better to vlog

november 2004, an exhibit room in the carnegie museum of modern art @ pittsburgh, reflective mirror-like pillows filled with helium float and wander aimlessly round the room with help from the fan's breath of air.

list of impending things to do:

in order of importance:

1. figure out where "we" are going for new year's...somewhere in california, preferably the non-snowy parts.
2. write/re-write entire three sections of critical writing essay (hopefully to be done tomorrow)
3. write thank you/will see you again/keep in touch cards for all those whom i love so here in montreal
4. thesis thesis thesis (background and research must all be compiled into a presentation of sorts to be given upon my return) this requires much more reading and drawing yet to be done...ugh...
5. decide for sure about applying for the master's program next year...although the more i look at reality, it seems the most logical thing is work and finishing exams...
6. the next questions then are, where and what kind of job?
7. transport blogger blog to wordpress...combined with this task is learning flash
8. document all "installation art" projects that have been mustering in my head...begin to figure out how to actually fund a building/constructing of them.
9. there is more....soooooo much more....

for now, sleep...i will say my prayers to the gps gods tonite after i read a couple chapters in my colour theory books...

all of you worry too much about me...haha

just for clarification, i am happy! all of you need not misinterpret my previous melancholic entry (too much wine, no more drinking for me...haha, yeah right). there is a certain anticipation of waiting and unknowns lately that make me more thoughtful about certain issues, and this is all...i am happy really...listening to jason mraz "i'll do anything"...makes me smile and reminds me of times being lacubrious. today is a happy-silly-jenn day...don't have any place to be or go...get to lounge in my comfy pajamas and do little dances as i clean my room and sort through papers...well, thesis awaits me too...but know there is nothing but smiles on my face and heart today.

the woman who waits patiently

"learn the art of patience. apply discipline to your thoughts when they become anxious over the outcome of a goal. impatience breeds anxiety, fear, discouragement and failure. patience creates confidence, decisiveness and a rational outlook, which eventually leads to success." -brian adams

fears...

for some reason tonight, i find myself listening to "a love supreme"...an album i haven't listened to for quite some time now. but as i type, john coltrane brings me to a place far away from here. to the state of washington and letters of love and missing, of forgiveness and hurt. i do not know if it is the innocence of being truly in love for the first time, or a connection that remains even through silence and years which have passed (for i feel he, above all, still knows me best)...whatever the case, i recall the moment on the beach where a hand reached out to save me from the overwhelming waves, three hour kisses on park benches, and moments of crying in the car at the nearby shopping mall parking lot.

"long ago, i drew a line into the sand, jumped across and held your held. band of gold protect us from the bitter tide that comes to wash away your words with time. hello you. hello me. hello hello. can't you see love is more than what it seems...."

there are days when moments of the past creep up on us. we, rather i, cannot help but feel a sense of missing.

it is not something which prevents me from the continual living, from the continual search for happiness. but instead, it becomes a moment for which i can propel myself further...i remember words exchanged in a park of forgiveness, of pieces of paper wrapped with a purple rubberband, and the way that the sun shone on his hair.

it would seem, that now, at this particular moment in time i should censor these words...to keep them from this public space away from the eyes/ears of others perhaps deeply intertwined into my now daily life. however, it is important to exchange such memories...to tell how they affected/infected/effected us. i cannot help these thoughts, in fact i wish i could share them with you but sometimes i feel as if i were living in a romanticized novel where our only exchanges happen on rendez-vouz weekends far away from reality. when in truth, there is pain, family histories, memories in which you cannot understand me unless you listen to these as well...i don't want to live in a fairy tale, as wonderful as that may seem...

i don't want to be afraid to speak what is on my mind. i fear having to guard my heart so closely. i want to tell you my background. the memories that guide me. the moments which are both intimate and painful. perhaps now is not the time...i understand this fully. maybe once we can narrow the broad horizons that lay before us...forgive me, for the bottle of wine and this mumbo-jumbo....but it all had to come out somehow, somewhere, sometime....

to be secretive.

secrets are only secrets if there is someone to reveal them too...

2046, originally uploaded by ymk

out of my control

in a few hours, the stories of moving and adventures for all of us will begin...from this moment, there is no turning back. one will begin adventures in another land across the sea, the tears of another will be erased by the move to a spacious new apartment replete of drunkards, evenings of quiet walking will be shortened by even yet another move to number two's old apartment...i, myself, will return to a land i once knew. it is inevitable that it too will be a strangeland, as i am now estranged.

the future is approaching quickly... the methodical seconds and minute hands of the clock seem to take on a new, more fervent life of their own.

what the heck is going on....

more imogen heap for smiles followed by "tonight may have to last me all my life" by the avalanches

"say goodnight and go"

skipping beats, flashing jeeps
i am struggling
daydreaming, been sitting, the corner cafe
and i'm left in bits, recovered tectonic, trembling
you get me everytime
why'd you have to be so cute
it's impossible to ignore you
must you make me laugh so much
it's bad enough we get along so well
say goodnight and go
follow you home
you've got your headphones on
and your dancing
got lucky, beautiful shot
you're taking everything off
watch the curtains, wide open
and you fall in the same routine
flicking through the tv
relaxed and reclining
and you think you're alone
oh why'd you have to be so cute
it's impossible to ignore you
must you make me laugh so much
it's bad enough we get along so well
say goodnight and go
one of these days
you'll miss your train, and come stay with me
it's always say goodnight and go
we'll have drinks and talk about things
and any excuse to stay awake with you
you'd sleep here, i'd sleep there
but then the heating may be down again
at my convenience
we'd be good, we'd be great together
go
why'd you have to be so cute
it's impossible to ignore you
must you make me laugh so much
it's bad enough we get along so well
say goodnight and go

why is it always, always
goodnight and go
goodnight and go!

left for garbage...

sounds for the day

everything the blow . . . albums: "everyday examples of humans facing straight into the blow", "poor aims: love songs", "bonus album", & "the concussive caress, or, casey caught her mom singing along with the vacuum"...i love the titles...but more importantly i love this blog entry from khaela maricich [a careful reminder that some days things just don't work and it will be bad no matter what...basically just keep going, smile, tomorrow will be better]

favourites, well, the whole "poor aims" album for sure. but then "come on petunia", "nothing", "our holes are dug", "a night full of eyes", "what the guitar said about the firmament", "gravity", "the democracy of small things", & "where i love you" BUT all the in between fragments that are like only 20/30 second clips are little jewels in and of themselves...anyhow...maybe it is time to read till the dawn falls upon me.

my waking life

quietly listening to: the arcade fire "in the backseat"

i find my time here in montreal drawing to a swift close. it is hard to not allow nostalgia or melancholy set in as i walk the streets. i try to enjoy each moment as is it were a normal day, carefree & without deep thought. however, i find it next to impossible not to succumb to the "i should remember's" & "do not forget's" & "make a visual note's" that impede my every waking moment. i am reminded of the movie "waking life" (even tho i don't ever think i ever watched the entire movie ;b)...being somehow caught between dream and reality. i feel as a character in animation, floating from place to place, encountering my own punctums with such ease, forgetting completely the efforts of walking. there is a certain relaxed energy that breathes from the streets of this city. it has pervaded the pores of my skin and filled me with a living vitality; something which i have not felt for quite some time. it is nice to feel, perhaps for the first time ever, a sincere comfort in my own skin. at almost 28, it is about time i suppose. montreal embraces this comfort & provides a space for such fitting to occur.

the possibilities appear endless here. with cent discussions of impending futures and broad horizons that lay ahead, i could not imagine a better place to mold my thoughts and allow them to be subject to their own inherent generative powers. i most certainly am not where i once imagined myself to be even say just 8 years ago. and in that number 8, it really is only in the last 1 that i was able to rise out of a muck of stagnation. i find myself more creative, more thoughful, less suppressed, less concerned with implications of certain decisions that i once would have allowed to weigh me down. i find myself writing postcards again, sending them off with a smile and confidence. for seven years (wow! astonished at how long of time has passed already) i never wrote a card with enthusiasm in my heart. maybe montreal also has magical capacities. perhas it sounds naive and silly to believe in magic, but i do. there are certain encounters, conversations, works of art, moments on the street that sprinkle magic glitter dust on me and transform me into a being i was not before. i've been overly blessed with such magic this past year.

today i walked up boulevard saint laurent, destination laika of course (where i sit and write this now). the winter chill hit my cheeks, normally an unwelcomed thing for me, but today i did not mind, the more of montreal's magic that my pores can take in, the better.

a week ago i wandered the streets with my visiting boy. through 4 inches of snowy slush slush slush we walked the city of montreal. i wonder if some of the city magic pervaded his green overcoat, if in the mustard yellow eames chairs he could feel the comfort that montreal gives my heart.

(pause...more thoughts of unknowns come to the forefront of my mind)

at some point, some sort of action will need to be put into play from which a direction of unfolding can begin...but for now, there is still a little bit of time left to ponder.

dj marcelo

so i'm off to laika because marcelo (maria elisa's husband) is having a trial play/interview at laika between 6&9...should be fun...if you are in the neighborhood, come stop by and have a drink with us.

a marsvolta mood

it is not often that i crave the sounds of the mars volta. but here i am, the last two days actually looking and searching for more mars volta than i have on my current playlist. songs of the moment that resound and echo over and over from the two little speakers on my buttercup (in order of my listening preference of course):

son et lumiere
inertiatic ESP
l'via l'viaquez
cygnus...vismund cygnus

after an extended weekend of pleasure also known as: (amusement, blizz, comfort, contentment, delectation, delight, desire, diversion, ease, enjoyment, fancy, felicity, gladness, gluttony, gratification, indulgence, joy, revelry, satisfaction, solace, thrill, titillation, want, will, wish and other such extemporaneous events) i have returned at last.

j.w goethe was a smart man.

"In the colorful reflection we have what is life."

for isabelle

the word of the day:
t w i t t e r p a t e d

. . .

i saw this on my morning walk to school today...the first snow of montreal was falling, officially signaling the end of autumn. and i thought to myself that it is nearly the end of another year...the year 2005 in fact. since 2000, what have you done? really, it is a good question, in the last five years, where were you? where have you gone (not just physically but mentally/emotionally/spiritually/all of the above)? did you fall in love? did you fall out of love? how many times each? did you dream? did those dreams come true? there is so much more tied to this question that i feel as a burning sensation within me...i guess this is a good sign, to know that in the last five years i still feel burning sensations...in fact, i can say for the first time in the last five years, perhaps, i feel it more than ever. and for this, i am very happy.

moleskinerie-ed!

a few days back i got a curious looking email asking for my permission to use a sketch of mine...then i realized it was the moleskinerie site! wow...i am without words...oh happy day!

revelation.

the revelation came to me in a moment of cleaning, well procrastinating more like it. anyhow...do you remember the movie gattaca? one's life is pre-determined by one's genetic make-up. your occupation, your house, your wife...all of this can be read in a single strand of hair. i was thinking that this is what our modern day music playlists do to some extent. we read into the other person, determining compatibility of friendship/more, or just how "cool" is a person, based on the songs which they are or are not listening to at the current moment. what is in their itunes, or playing on their ipod, this is the main factor, and god forbid they don't even have an ipod! in the movie, irene takes a strand of hair from jerome to see if he is all that he is said to be (genetically speaking)...ashamed and guilty for reducing him to a single strand of dna, she offers her own strand of hair to him...i'll give you my playlist if you give me yours? hmmm...just something random to think about. as quoted from the movie, "there is no gene (in this case playlist) for the human spirit."

30 cities in 365 days

so i decided to go anyways.

105 songs for a cold (as in sniffle, sniffle) weekend

la noyée, carla bruni
hide and seek, imogen heap
dance with me, adam green
(you can't blame it on) anybody, phoenix
the dumbing down of love, frou frou
retour a vega, the stills
autumn sweater, yo la tengo
ladies & gentleman we are floating in space, spiritualized
this is not a love song, nouvelle vague
the shining, badly drwan boy
the nearness of you, norah jones
everything is everything, phoenix
the past and pending, the shins
take me somewhere nice, mogwai
run run run, phoenix
fumble, architecture in helsinki
the last goodbye, nicholas payton
advisory committee, mirah
it's good to be in love, frou frou
falling away with you, muse
love will tear us apart, nouvelle vague
transcontinental, pedro the lion
neighborhood #1 (tunnels), the arcade fire
new slang, the shins
quelqu'un m'a dit, carla bruni
trading air. athlete
goodnight and go, imogen heap
???????????????, aprils
still in love song, the stills
i come.com, miss kittin
ruby, my dear, thelonius monk & john coltrane
everybody's gotta learn sometime, beck
i know you are but what am i?, mogwai
baby lulu, stereolab
in the backseat, the arcade fire
the fox in the snow, belle & sebastian
rae, autechre
kissing the lipless, the shins
where is my mind, pixies
julie and candy, boards of canada
priests and paramedics, pedro the lion
etoh, the avalanches
this modern love, bloc party
pokubornin, blindfolf
diving station, boards of canada
montserrat, orquestra del plata
willow weep for me, billie h oliday
i melt with you, nouvelle vague
be here to love me, norah jones
one of these things first, nick drake
brownie a la mode, nicholas payton
call and answer, barenaked ladies
try, nelly furtado
in the aeroplane over the sea, neutral milk hotel
golden porsche, mogwai
i do, pedro the lion
how does it make you feel?, air
hand to phone (cordless mix), adult.
le soleil est près de moi, air
yousay, amp
i love, athlete
tonight may have to last me all my life, the avalanches
corc, autechre
certain things you ought to know, destroyer
detroit twice, el michels affair
goddam right it's a beautiful day, eels
feel it, black eyed peas
holdin' on together, phoenix
make up, elefant
star guita, the chemical brother
banquest, bloc party
pick up, bonobo
y tú qué has hecho?, buena vista social club
yoshimi battle the pink robots pt.1, the flaming lips
locusts, the frames
you do, aimee mann
le toi du moi, carla bruni
don't leave me, the all-america rejects
bottle up and explode!, elliott smith
the upsetters-lover's skank (spangler's club), bill laswell
suffer in silence, the frames
la dernière minute, carla bruni
reasons for living, duncan sheil
all the things you are, charlie parker
let go, frou frou
where do i begin, the chemical brothers
fold 4 wrap 5, autechre
blue mon, chick corea & bobby mcferrin
night of the iguana, the cinematic orchestra
shadowtricks, bonobo
el carretero, buena vista social club
what's on my mind, the cranberries
i'm missing you, badrye
take five, the dave brubeck quartet
here i dreamt i was an architect, the decemberists
no cities left, the dears
raphael, carla bruni
the sound of setting, death cab for cutie
call call, the faint
notorious lightning, destroyer
not in our name, dj spooky & saul williams
embraceable you, charlie parker
your lucky day in hell, eels
...
yes. i am bored.

ugh...this crappy immune system of mine decides to break down at precisely the moment of parties...maybe it's for my own good...i'll spend the weekend in bed with merleau-ponty and reuniting with my laptop instead...can't believe i've wasted the whole day away drinking fluids, making soup & music playlists...hehe...i've officially mastered the art of procrastination without the tv being a factor...amaaaazing.

for the to do list

wishing i could have written this as a mission statement for my thesis...

"We experience life through encounters, images of varied, mostly irrelevant, short experiences: new images, new flavors, new sounds, new touches, & new smells. Yet in their irrelevance they shape the way we think and how we see the world...Actually we are all tourists. We are all part of a new ritual or religion, which is to believe only in what is known and this is what we are told is true. We don't know who we are, and we need to be told where to go and what to see. Museums show the familiar because people seem no longer to be attracted by curiosity or mystery, the unknown or the underground. I remember when I was a kid we used to wander & wonder if we were stepping into a spot in the woods where noone had ever walked. We had this craving to discover the untouched, the unknown. I think we all still have this craving but we cannot satisy it for fear of stepping off the given path of making a mistake. I intend for this exhibition to allow the viewer to enter into a known world to find the unknown, or maybe the other way around, to enter into and unknown world to find the familiar, the known. This dialogue between what is familiar and what is unknown opens & enriches our lives. This show is about experiencing visions and offers the opportunity to reflect and understand the meaning of these visions, but not before your gut has told you something about your experience, which only you can know. A mediated world with mirages, tricks, and look-alike miracles is a difficult world in which to find unique experiences and places. Through media, we are able to be in the same place looking at the same sights, all at the same time everywhere. ..however, (it) aims to be like the woods where we wish to find a spot where no one else has ever been. This discovery is of course an illusion; it is a fiction; and yet this illusion and this fiction can make out lives worthwhile...what is familiar becomes universal. Maybe through this metamorphosis of the familiar into the universal we discover the core of our contemporary existence."

excerpt taken from (p.15-20) an introduction to

"universal experience: art, life & the tourists' eye"

exhibition curated by: Francesco Bonami, Julie Rodrigues Widholm, Tricia Van Eck

published by: museum of contemporary art (chicago, illinois) & d.a.p. (new york, ny) 2005

teatime.

i am so tired today. maybe i slept too much. or perhaps it is the thoughts of reading all night with no one but my yellow book at hand. the next work of tackle: jonathan crary's "techniques of the observer". i have been wanting to read this book for such a long time, but now that the time has finally come and i am pressured to finish, it seems like such a task.

something must have been wrong and at odds in the universe the other night. so many people had worried, or angry, frustrated voices coming to me thru the phone. all i could do was listen and try to be sympathetic. there are so many times when there is nothing to be done but just look into the eyes of the other and be.

i am thinking of tea...the warm, soothing calmness of it, the destroyer of my laptop (which by the way, i still haven't gotten back yet, argh!)...i will soon venture out from the library (maybe my third home away from home after laika)...eesh...the autumn air seems like it will welcome me tonight, a breath of freshness that is very much needed. ok, off into the wind and falling leaves i go.

i've found it...the teapot that i want and desire. at long last. simple, elegant, pure...now to figure out how to get it from new york. for now i have too many books to buy...maybe this can be a little christmas gift hint...hehe.

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

notes to self for thesis:
November 22, 2005 thru December 10, 2005

One - Guerrilla Tea features a new series of photographs by the performance artist and photographer Pierre Sernet. These photographs feature randomly selected guests, from various cultures, sharing a bowl of tea with the kimono-dressed Sernet. For each ceremony, a conventional teahouse has been replaced with a portable cube to create a "conceptual space" that bridges cultures and environments. (Photographs: Pierre Sernet copyright 2005)

@ Felissimo Design House 10 West 56 Street New York, NY 10019 800-565-6785

at laika again...

another morning of sleeping in late...waking up to a cold air of morning and wondering for a moment where i was for a brief while. not realizing that i have been living in a dream...a dream filled with moments and sips of coffee, of little treats of painted graffiti on the walls of back alleys, of mustard yellow walls that are made of squares, of nights of street wandering made reflective after the rain in puddles...i miss the comfort of my own couch and table and the familiar sites of my beloved candles...there is my blue bike which i have not gone on 3am adventures with...i wonder how will be the reuniting with such objects. if the meeting will be sweet or sour...bittersweet perhaps as a are most partings and meetings....the only things which remain from such moments are the smell of a sweet perfume, the glimmer of a smile, the special gaunt of a walk.

borges as my midnite friend

i woke from a nap at 9 in order to prepare for my lengthy encounter with borges tonight...tomorrow i will moderate a seminar discussion. long nights lie ahead of me.

temporality

"in endowing us with memory, nature has revealed to us a truth utterly unimaginable to the unreflective creation, the truth of immortality... the most ideal human passion is love, which is also the most absolute and animal and one of the most ephemeral." -george santayana

meetings on the street

today, i was walking along, sun shining upon my face, eyes looking brightly up to the blue sky, and i felt it land upon my cheek...it's tiny little feet tickling me slightly, saying a tender little hello. i reached up to greet him...mr. ladybug, first name red. he crawled onto my hand, and i welcomed his intimate conversation as he explored the tips of my fingers. the meeting was brief, like a quick hello with one of your friends on the street...he turned around on my palm and faced me, paused for a short moment sending me farewells...and then he opened his wings and flew off into the blue sky that i was admiring just before we had met each other.

giggles...

heehee, so i couldn't help but laugh out loud and giggle to myself when i opened a little package that arrived in the mailbox today. it was rebound with yellow tape thanks to the customs declaration peoples...silliness.

i love it!

i wish i could have recorded my laughter and smiles and send them back to the sender in an envelope, but when i thought of it, the moment had passed...

the man in the corner

purple sighs

the song for the day, "ruby, my dear" played by thelonius monk with john coltrane...a very purple song for my very purple day.

teardrops for technology

ok...so no i haven't died or fallen ill of some terminal illness. (thinking) well, on second thought, this could be just as bad. last week i spilled a wonderful jasmine green tea all over the keys of my latop. yes---yikes!!! my heart stops even now as i think of the horrible crime i committed. anyhow, the laptop was resurrected for a few brief moments, but now i think it has finally decided to die solemnly...sigh...so, until i can rectify the problem, it appears that i am bound to spend my afternoons wandering and reading under the wonderful golden leaves in the parc. quelle horreur!! please send your condolences for my beloved "buttercup" to my address here in canada...the memorial service will be held monday, october 23 at the moment when i ship it off to that magical place in the sky "toshiba-fix-it-land"...

a moment of breath

thinking of the space between you & me

the burn the maps album

ever have those days where you just cannot help but play a song over and over...for some reason it becomes a necessity for one's one sanity. this is the song of today...i haven't made a soundtrack for my days for quite some time now. today's dreariness and quiet attitude kept me confined to my room today, except for a brief walk around the neighborhood during the dark just moments ago...the streets are quiet due to the holiday nature of today, and i relished in this...to see the houses lit from inside, breathing a different life from the inside than the cold empty shells of the out. i enjoy these evening walks by myself when the wind blows just right to clear my mind and refresh my heart.

"being & nothingness" by sartre

"The lemon is extended throughout its qualities, and each of its qualities is extended throughout each of the others. It is the sourness of the lemon which is yellow, it is the yellow of the lemon which is sour. We eat the color of a cake, and the taste of this cake, and the taste of this cake is the instrument which reveals its shape and its color to what may be called the alimentary intuition...The fluidity, the tepidity, the bluish color, the undulating restlessness of the water in a pool are given at one stroke, each quality though the others."

i wonder what this says about our relations to one another. i know for myself and the majority of my friends, we communicate only via this machine that is under my fingers. does this mean that my abilities to extend my "full" self are limited? to use satre's example --- i cannot eat the color of my friends, nor taste my friends. i am not a cannibal, but there are important notions to remember when we realize the limitations of our own boundaries...hmmm (thinking, thinking, of a small little project for this weekend that can connect us all together...heehee...i think i've got it.)

oh yeah, btw, it's also supposed to be canadian thanksgiving...i don't get it. it's not thursday, and i don't think it has a thing to do with pilgrims. hmmm...weird. anyhow, i'm working so that means no turkey for me.

sense of colour

here are the beginnings of my critical/creative writing essay---the twelve of us are each writing on different "sites" of montreal (i.e. the chinese grocery store, the racetrack, the sidewalk...) which will be compiled like 12 mosaic tiles and published at the end of the semester. anyhow, here is what i have so far...it isn't so good, i know, but i haven't been able to think so clearly because of the cloudy feeling of my stomach...i hope tomorrow goes better since i have to send it to my classmates tomorrow evening:

“In visual perception a color is almost never seen as it really is--as it physically is. This fact makes color the most relative medium in art. In order to use color effectively it is necessary to recognize that color deceives continually. Practical exercises demonstrate through color deception (illusion) the relativity and instability of color. And experience teaches that in visual perception there is a discrepancy between physical fact and psychic effect…This way of searching will lead from a visual realization of the interaction between color and color to an awareness of the interdependence of color with form and placement; with quantity (which measures amount, respectively extension and/or number, including recurrence); with quality (intensity of light and/or hue); and with pronouncement (by separating or connecting boundaries).” -from Interaction of Color written by Josef Albers, 1963

There is a moment in walking, when time stops. It slows down in fact and the tips of the fingers, the taste buds of the tongue, begin to have silent dialogues with the nostrils and eyes. It is in these quiet conversations that our body detaches from the sidewalk it is walking on and engages with the objects around us. The same conversation that detaches our body from that specific place is simultaneously recorded entirely through our body. The following is a dictation of five dialogues of sense overheard on the portion of Boulevard Saint Laurent between Rue Sherbrooke and Rue Rachel:

Situation eavesdrop one: There are 13 on the sidewalk east and another 15 of our brothers on the west. You pass us everyday with little regard. Our skin tastes of metallic, chipping paint. Perhaps you can taste the rust on our square hinges where the men come to unscrew us. We can still hear the ringing in our ears from their visits. The sirens are so loud, but it is all made better when we can feel the coolness of the liquid pressure inside flowing out. When the men visit, it always smells of smoky soot, fire and ash. I wonder if you smell the visits from the dogs on our corrugated shell.

Situation eavesdrop two: Side by side we are set, one atop the other. Pardon the stench of fresh oil-based paint. Someone came along just recently and decided to hide our innate kiln fired clayness. Now, our pores cannot breathe and the raindrops slide down our faces like they do on your slick poncho. Can you feel the softness of the mud from which we once came? Lick the new shiny paint. It is glossy against your tongue where we used to be dull and rough. We know we live in a world where face lifts and nose-jobs are now the norm, but this new resemblance we have been given sounds and feels so plastic. You cannot even see the way our shoulders are linked one to the other anymore because of the prosthetic. We do not taste like the tomato skin we now wear, and do not like the suffocation one bit.

Situation eavesdrop three: Stop! I command all of you. I have the ultimate power, in my circular eye you look back at me with waiting.

Situation eavesdrop four:

Situation eavesdrop five:

Situation eavesdrop one + two + three + four & five = a 3 letter word which smells, tastes, feels, looks and sounds like R E D .

ooooooowwwwww....

ugh...i tried so hard to be good and studious today. i was doing just fine until around 5 o'clock rolled around, and then the world's worst stomachache ever. all i had was coffee from laika...ugh...ooooowwww...i want my mom (sticks her bottom lip out) she used to play with my hair whenever i felt bad. but who will play with my hair now (sigh). just came home because i couldn't stand it any longer, but now i can't sleep either...ow ow ow...and on top of all that it is raining again, with the weather outlook looking like the next 10 days of rain, rain, rain. it looks like my very good day yesterday has been balanced out with the ruining of all the wonderful fall foliage today. (pout pout) yes, i know i'm being whiny, and complaining but my tummy hurts...

pocky is so yum yum

my japan fix for the day

remnants of a good day

there are some mornings when the light comes from within...it is reflected only in mirrors and shadows left on the walls & not by the sun that is hiding behind the overcast sky...it is in the memory of warm sips of tea held within a lopsided, white glass. the 9 degree celsius wind embraced me in a comforting hug that fit snuggly against my body as i walked the streets of mid-morning. it is a strange yet wonderful moment when the sense of time has been lost...and the next thing you know it is already "dix heures cinq" and time to conquer an autumn sunday in october.

"cows are amongst the gentlest of breathing creatures; none show more passionate tenderness to their young when deprived of them; and, in short, i am not ashamed to profess a deep love for these quiet creatures." -thomas de quincey

the rain has stopped, i can feel a good day

highlight #1:

highlight #2:

highlight #3:

just checked my voicemail...the old man of my life left me a message. he said, "hey! this is the pacific ocean! listen----".... and there it was, the sound of crashing waves and blowing wind. a little piece of california transported to my part of north america. the smile on my face cannot be any greater at this precise moment as i can almost feel the sand around my toes.

my ten favourite things to do: (not in any particular order of preference)

*sit for hours on the beach (not just any beach, but my beach)...especially at sunset hours and late into the dark of night, feet buried in the sand and wind in my ears, the light, salty mist upon my face...all the while watching, hearing the waves come and go...come and go
*feeling the warmth of sleeping next to one i care for at night...the moment when you wake up and realize you are not alone, so you snuggle closer holding onto the warmth in case it might disappear
*falling deeply into the world of my sketchbook
*watching leaves change their colors and fall gracefully to the ground...and then frolicking in the fallen-ness
*laying on green grassy fields, allowing myself to become like a cat in the sun as my mind and body slip out of consciousness and into sleep
*sipping on hazelnut soy lattes with dark chocolate in one hand and my eyes fixed intently upon the pages of a good book in the other
*travelling and wandering new places with the eyes of a newborn (this is usually made many times better if there is someone with similar eyes standing alongside and roaming with me)
*smelling the cheeks of my mother
*(thinking, thinking, thinking...ok...so this last thing has yet to be determined...i'll let you know when it comes to mind)

feathered leaves

this morning i thought whimsically of growing orange, red, and yellow feathers (like those of the changing leaves) and then i would fly far, far away. later this afternoon as i was walking home, i found this lying on the sidewalk...for a brief moment, i had to look underneath one of my arms to see if my morning wish had actually come true...

ode to autumn [ j. keats ]

SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease;
For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river-sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

"mental architecture" to read

the cognitive functions of language

what a strange day to has been...

the day began with strange happenings all around. the water heater fuse blew while i was mid-shower meaning cold, rude awakening for me. then a bizarre jaw lock. finally scrambling out the door, thinking that every portion of the house was out to get me, i was also guided along by some weird encounters. first a note to a very devious robber type was scribed with such politeness, and then imagine, i saw a star that fell upwards! (can you make wishes on those also? or instead do stars that fall up allow you to take past wishes back?) and then the most disturbing sight of all----superman committing suicide! what could possibly have gone so wrong on this day that the men of all men, would choose to throw himself from the window and hang himself? i must say, he is not very smart though and his brain must be the size of a pea because how can superman (who flies!) die by hanging? the hardware store on st. laurent must have been short on kryptonite. as you can see, i am in the mood for creating stories this evening. after a long, hard day of 6 hour theories on phenomenology and perception, i wish to escape my own perceived reality. beside me sits a perfectly round blue cup of china black tea and i wonder for a moment how nice it would be to make myself small enough to sit on the blue edge and look out across the great lake of tea-ness in contemplation and quiet reflection. sigh...yes...i am in a strange mood...but my body hurts today and the mind is in similar condition, so much so that it would be nice to transform into something else. ( l o n g e x h a l e ) 31 minutes battery time remaining...(for a second i wonder if this relates to my laptop or rather to me)...sleep calls to me, but how soon i will answer i am not sure.