cried and cried

Not the piano I was refering to, this one has outdoor light as a companion and many frames of the past but the air around it is very cold. The basement door is closed, better off that way. A precious classic man mourns his loss and mourns silently the missing support he should be getting. A serious offense that I'll remember. You do not know me well if you suppose that I won't also bear a grudge, oh yes I will.

husk/essem : photo collection print

Here's a gift (sorta), this is a print of the h/e photos from 08.05 to 12.06 (including Pygmalion photos that were somewhat explained earlier on h/e -- although it also excludes a few personal photos that I didn't intend to circulate). I'm hosting the print file on my server so that you can download it and print it yourself via your local printer (preferably on matte paper then laminated). The format of the print file is 20" x 20", it is on a white background that doesn't require any bleed. You must not let your printer re-size the file, keep it as is or print it on a 20" x 24" / 30" x 36" canvas if necessary. Here's a printer that I recommend for single sheet printing in Canada: Dossier and obviously any Kinkos should work out for US residents. This might be the first of many h/e prints to come, I don't know, selling these seemed inappropriate (though if you really feel like "buying" some prints, by all means, go here).

A higher resolution preview of the print is available : here
Download the print file : here
[Right Click / Save as]

before the funeral

A friend called in the late hours last night, spontaneous invite to a bar I'm all too happy to report will close down soon. I'm all for spontaneous invitations especially within the morbid frame of mind I was in. Nevermind the mirror, step outside and hail a cab, onto the unexpected. It was nice to be with familiar faces -- unaware of my recent troubles. The crowd regulars were celebrating one of the last times they would ever frequent the bar, I was especially jovial too -- because of their loss.

a death in the family

While, I suppose, most of you are out there somewhere, in the company of family and loved ones, I've come back to Montreal to prepare for the funeral. Gives new meaning to this "date", not that the actual meaning had any significance in my life aside perhaps as an excuse to see the family and reflect on the years past (it is, like it or not, the ideal time of the year to do such things; the global page-turner as I've previously described it). I try to retain a certain amount of anonymity on h/e (granted I've lost control at times) so I cannot give a name to the departed (may you rest in peace), but I can say that it isn't truly my loss although how it affects my loved ones is what (naturally) pains me. [Remember how I spoke of the piano?]

201206

Nothing religious at all (far from it), the spirit of the season usually hits around this time. It hasn't hit me yet [ref: make it december]. Where's the breather? The caffeine laced second person I'm living in works to make it happen (that's what you have to do sometimes) while the other hopes for a dose of stress-free consequence-less alcohol refuge.

re: Thundra records - cabaret show

Walked back home humming songs I heard on that night, anticipating the next day's hangover with a busted right hand, three strings left on my acoustic guitar and a memorable souvenir.

{nsstc}

Ce soir c'est deux pièces par ensemble / gratuit pour la foule. Limité à deux mais tard dans la nuit, deux pièces à deux (différents) pour Le Soir "intérieur/extérieur" semblable à l'entrée précédente; deux côtés imposés incluant certaines contradictions (en anglais fatigué). C'est malheureusement pas une cause à célébrer (toujours problématique) d'autant plus que c'est litérallement dans le cadre de festivités organisés par mes pairs; de là mon tracas. De moins en moins de place pour les notes tristes. Fait moi sentir le mois de décembre pour vrai et/ou viens me voir. {fin}

{wtn}

Where once I could look out the window, accross the garden (as it was on the balcony also but it has turned into a cold lifeless thing), and see the busy street corner, reminding me of the life outside; now I am their window. Sometimes I'm deliberately indecent, as if to say "I was here first, you look away". Though the east view remains (barely) unchanged, I operate out of the west. Family ties made my inclusion in the building possible and things started to fall apart when the knots were first severed. It was to be expected but I fought to be the last man standing; an empty victory, as it turns out. My close friends have all been either attached or thrown out of this place; I cannot confide in any of them about it without bringing back past scars to life (though I literally live with those scars still, as they perhaps still do, at a distance). But for the record, these halls were mine to begin with and I did behave accordingly. You must understand that this isn't simply turning one page to another; the coming years are (perhaps necessary) illegible in-between pages. The amount of change is forcing me into seperate lives (and I'm terribly shaken by this), quoting myself out of here: "oh imminent collapse". [abandon/adoption theory still at play]

{~}

alcohol perspective / what is this inside of me

{acbp}

What is a corridor between places? I'm in the middle of a fight, a personal one. If I'm allowed anything here on husk/essem, it's the casual melodrama now and then. No lessons, no morals (despite spontaneous ones), all observations (garden cut short by the eviction, as you might've noticed, I was on to something -- or on something, who knows). It was bound to happen either way; true change. I've been re-reading Sandman (the) by Neil Gaiman lately (for the millionth time, cue the first line of this post, Lyta Hall) and I feel as though I'm going through (a less severe yet as important) change as is the title character and this was hinted at the very beginning of the series 'til the very end (beautifully pointed out by Lucien in Volume Ten: The Wake: "Charitably... I think... sometimes, perhaps one must change or die. And, in the end, there were, perhaps, limits to how much he could let himself change." Well said.

{ins}

Haven't left but I made it out, you know the difference. Snapped and drank. Wrote like I used to. With whom I used to find shelter underneath the snow. Wrote of dependence, stomach pains and eventual fears. Something like that.