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What I refer to as hors série for the descendo print collections is those art pieces that really had no research or specific theme to them, nor what I would generally be proud enough promote. In a way they're kinda like fillers -- it takes me way too long to come up with conceptual collections of my own, not to mention that there's usually something I need to get off my chest while doing them and it isn't wise to rush it, although the production stage itself is still spontaneous. I've got a few fillers lined up. It is nice to get them out there (when I can afford to, that is), but it's nothing like releasing a "series", I feel that's much more of an art statement. It's also much harder to pull off; most artists struggle with innovation and they get caught up in it for too long but I think the absolute challenge is winning over one's audacity; I've received all sorts of comments/critiques and that can be distracting (though also essential in a way)... what really matters is that I've managed to get stuff out there.

sunlight

The sunlight came back, as if it was a calculated coup; so did lots of souvenirs. Not what I consider to be a suitable end to three weeks of rain. It was an eerie week (and week-end) of past reminders, faces I hadn't seen in a long time -- though most of wich were very pleasant there are always those that I would rather not see again... every souvenir, obviously, has its own ups and downs. Among them was my ex-girlfriend, whom I haven't seen since xxxxxx (ref: the less I know), these types of encounters rarely end well... I won't discuss how this has affected me (now you know it did) despite my vague rantings, I do keep some secrets to myself -- however I felt it was necessary to point out the magnitude of these sudden coincidental reunions, in such a short time frame, right when the rain ended. I've been feeling very puzzled by all this, perhaps too much of a strong dosage all at once... is it as simple as "too much of then, not enough of now"? Aside from work (and even that isn't saying much), what else has moved forward since 2004? There isn't any real coherent thought to this, mainly observations, but at least I know I'm not affraid of being too comfortable then, and there's something specific about that word, I see my old entourage as moving in circles (litterally) and I would hate to be stuck there again, I'm not judging their lifestyle, it just isn't satisfying to me, it IS safe (well actually no) but I never saw the appeal -- though I feel like I've been sidetracking for roughly two years now, I've experienced "moving in a straight line" a few years back and I've never felt so alive in all of my life. The culmunation of all of these sudden memories coming in and out of my life last week, and the uneasiness I've been feeling because of it could've been due to an impending desire to find that straight line again, like it all happened for a reason, maybe even a warning. I'm not waiting on any reasonable closure, I know that my heart solely longs to discover something/somebody new -- but damn, not yet! There's a lot of cleaning yet to be done before I can even begin to look for that line again (or until I'm ready to be surprised by one), be "new" for "new", moral and beautiful, cleased, and may the clouds come back and shelter me 'til then.

it's not rain/it's just water on the leaves

Outside, a few minutes ago, tight solid black business suit, pale face, aging, irresponsible hair/beard, smoking, (ref: soft light: black scribble over a gray canvas) somewhat territorial of my surroundings. An evil stare to some, a casual one to others. Doesn't matter. It's just me with harmless light, a pause from crossing problems off the list and then my left hand's little finger stops working for a few seconds, concequences from an accident, nearly eleven years ago. I'll have to get used to it. Might be a bit numb now, but it's a miracle that it works at all. It was then that the urgency of undertaking a series of concerts became more relevant because, obviously, time is of the essence here.

re: trendy neo-activists

So where were we? I must say I was proud to discover that the previous post, which contains Quebec's tabacco-law slogan, is/was listed higher in search engine ranks than the law's official site -- though this might've changed by now but the hits just keep on coming. What surprised me though, was the hate mail. Not "hate-comments" mind you, hate e-mails. I appologize to everyone who wrote these hate-driven messages, had you added some constructive point of views, I might've simply copied them here. I've always found different perspectives to be very beneficial though that doesn't imply that one's opinion might necessarily change but it can be taken under serious consideration -- suffice it to say that this does not happen within belligerent discourse. Is "debate" burried alongside "chivalry" now?

le québec respire mieux -- mais les arbres capotent

Last week, posters for the new anti-tabacco law appeared around restaurants and bars, and that's fine. I've said it before, I agree with the law, although, as a smoker, it's being a target of : lobbyist propaganda, blantant hypocrisy, marketing distractions and the oh so casual non-smoker jab that I can't stand (oh I hear your rebuttal that being a target here is far less worse than being a victim of cancer caused by second hand smoke, for instance, I do concur, though I would add that there are other snakes in the backyard and this big budget campaign hides them further in the weeds). Nothing wrong with those posters but see this: last Friday multiple flyers and coasters appeared (yes all beautiful four color process printed on both sides with die-cuts, folds and whatnot) and I've seen an average of 50 of these flyers/coasters in three different locations in Montreal far from the city's hot spots, no less. I mentioned Quebec being aroused by the subject, think I'm wrong now? One poster, is enough don't you think? You might ask : "hey! where's the RECYCLED PAPER logo?" Sorry, it's not there. There are over a thousand locations in Montreal alone where the new law will take effect -- now if I saw an average of 50 badly-designed un-recycled printed advertisements (yes, coasters too) in one small Little Italy bistro -- do the math, how many trees were needed to solicit the idea that Quebec will breathe better?

Now read The War On Fun by Ezra Levant (was he anti-french? I'm asking 'cause really I don't know, the Alliance is known for their québecois hatred..), just to be prepared when you become the next target. I bet on cellphones and weight -- what about you?

More on the campaign:
taupes antitabac
cellulaire seconde main
help wanted
incongruité

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Il arrive que j'oublie comment l'appartement prends une autre forme avec une certaine musique/éclairage. Meuilleur le soir, évidament. L'atmosphère victorien accompagnée d'un faux silence et/ou une tranquilité fictive temporaire -- ouverture à de nombreux souvenirs, surtout peut-être un temps malicieux de solitude (en début d'automne 2004) où j'ai habité le vide complètment seul pour la première fois. Autant que je déplore me rappeller de ces quelques mois, je suis conscient qu'il y a encore une grande lesson à en tirer. Il arrive aussi que j'oublie comment le français écrit est loin d'être mon français parlé. L'immense contraste m'inspire aucunement, c'est loin d'être naturel, chaque phrase légèrement embellie sonne prétentieuse et sans-âme. Then again, that's just my opinion, hurt and bound in my former life.

cellulaire seconde main

How do you get a smoker to put aside any intentions of quitting? You make him defend smoking. Powerful politics at play within this industry, it's impressive. The cost of such a product is also pretty impressive, you'd think our leaders would not allow the sale of such an addictive poison in every corner store -- then again, you may by-pass this scandal by heading on down to Kahnawake (Montrealers, click here for driving directions) and buying some cheaper duty-paid cigarettes sure to enflame much governmental rage. J'ai juste le goût d'étrangler la petite épaisse dans l'annonce anti-tabac -- "ah moi je peux pas aller souper chez mon ami parceque ces parents fument pis ça sent pas bon et c'est nocif" -- GUESS WHAT, BITCH; THE FOOD IS FUCKING ALTERED WITH HORMONES AND PESTICIDES, you're FUCKED either way! This commercial is fucking with smokers AND non-smokers alike, do I really need to lay it out for you? Do you understand? Give me some feedback, please. Promène toi pas avec un cellulaire à côté de moi, déja que j'suis rempli d'exhaust dans Montréal entouré de papier gaspillé, de pollution de bruit et de pseudo-artistes moi-je qui parlent avec un accent français sans avoir été en France (entre autres), je veux rien savoir de tes ondes nocives téléphoniques portables, ton cancer cellulaire seconde main... c'est la guerre du futur.. en attendant, une distraction à la fois. One distraction at a time, lest we forget the homeless, but they brought that on themselves now, haven't they (notice the super subtle extremist comparisons here)? For more on the escalating force-fed politicly correct hypocrisy in Québec, read this dirty-yet-popular previous post on the subject. So in an effort to pick and choose poisons I've come to realize that I can easily see both sides of the coin on this topic, and I have as much fun pointing it out to you as you do to me, if not more... Non-Smokers die too.

mirror ball

It was a surprising summer scent that reminded me of her and our week under the southern sun in 97; once somewhat of a painful souvenir, now actually makes me smile. It isn't harmful nostalgia or anything, but it goes a long way to show how quickly things change given enough time. There were times when I could not escape reenacting the fantasy of pressing my body against hers, tanned beautiful and soft through a warm open silk robe... perfect. Things of the past, erased by a new love, though also lost, once more. I don't believe in karma, but admist another period of renewed painful souvenirs, one has to wonder if these are not balanced concequences of my immoral early-2000 activities.