200/200

[august 13th / october 21st 2007 edits] | 200 posts in two years ... to those whom I feel are not as sensitive as I -- perhaps never will be -- falling short in search of resolve, compassion and understanding ... all patience lost admist exchanges that would potentially heal wounds rather than open new ones ... absent in the healing process ... devoid of any interest ... how is the view from the glass house / the hat doesn't fit / very little to gain ... where you think defensive and see guilt, I see genuine and exclusive concern ... in love and warmth -- the anchor rose but the failing protector protects you still.

[ TUESDAY, AUGUST 01, 2006 askdfja;sdfjas | I'm not in the habit of breaking traditions but it became apparent that the last thing I needed was an added unnecessary burden. 'Cause that's what it is really; an overall sad experience. I have an endless supply of souvenirs attatched to the event, the area, the atmosphere and so on... but there's that special half hour where it all vanishes thanks to (generally beautiful) explosions in the sky | TUESDAY, AUGUST 08, 2006 96/100 | a result of any learning process; by sharring (semi-vague) observations, which cannot generate additional discussion (dissection) nor debate when one remains hidden in a husk | FRIDAY, AUGUST 11, 2006 97/100 | I can no longer see the view from the photo | SATURDAY, AUGUST 12, 2006 98/100 | There's an antique piano that calls out to me, in an old house, far far far far far from the city's harsh lights. It hums soothing notes of loneliness in basement with souvenirs of the funeral | MONDAY, AUGUST 14, 2006 99/100 | I fail to understand how one would want to ruin such a pure personal celebration -- with someone else's published perceptions. Perhaps this goes hand in hand with my observation that there are lovers out there who aren't really in love, not unlike lovers who shift sporadically from one lover to another aren't worhty to bare the title | WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 16, 2006 100/100 | Still, a poison flows through our veins from the previous generations. I cannot blame genetics for my vice(s), nor do I, but it ads to my susceptibility. And yes, if you cave in to that notion; you inherit it | SUNDAY, OCTOBER 01, 2006 101/200 | the anchor rises -- like it or not | WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 01, 2006 gardennorthlies | This was vital to her, everything had to be on topic... she felt she was on to something and I'll never get to know if she ever got there, who she was, where she is now | MONDAY, NOVEMBER 06, 2006 061106 | The eviction notice came through the mail, in a legal fashion that I can't argue with. I have to go pick it up once I've returned to Montreal. Nothing will ever be the same | THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2006 | Forgiven, but not forgotten (I try, I do). Sentiments so painful and I know it's beyond logic, I'm not one to corner emotions nor weigh them as such (in comparison) but this isn't normal / it is what lingers above me. I never surrender to the sentiment (abandon=adopting) but it is beyond our control at times. It is nothing but a severe slump. I believe things had to change, else you might've found me dead in the cursed bedroom | MONDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 2006 duplicity [02] | It's not really about admitting to the adoption of a faulty (my opinon) moral or trait; it's about knowing who you are. Whether this "value" will have favorable repercussions in the long run is another matter altogether. Nevertheless, better to be aware of your own qualities and faults (however you perceive them) / the duality of superficiality is that life's challenges, lessons and rewards are usually found beneath the surface | WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 2006 {adp} | The lingering fatigue in my eyes has merged with my corporate blood-soak-inked signature while I notice that I am nearly outside. So very close | MONDAY, DECEMBER 11, 2006 {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 / 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 | THURSDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2006 {nsstc} | De moins en moins de place pour les notes tristes. Fait moi sentir le mois de décembre pour vrai et/ou viens me voir | THURSDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2006 cried and cried | A precious classic man mourns his loss and mourns silently the missing support he should be getting / A serious offense that I'll remember | WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 24, 2007 new post / click / type | I understand the policy to take a deeper look into these things but it's the outcome that would drive me mad | THURSDAY, JANUARY 25, 2007 I fought the law and Loto-Québec won | The staff locked the doors, regulars standing at the bar, drinks in hand -- the ashtrays came out and we all lit up a cigarette at the bar. Like it used to be | TUESDAY, JANUARY 30, 2007 mend | an ultimately negative result of one's lack of confidence and self-esteem, hence the lenghty (though beneficial) autoanalytical posts shown here | THURSDAY, MARCH 01, 2007 h/e 150 march | Never safe / Soon to change | THURSDAY, MARCH 08, 2007 h/e 153 march | It remains a personal victory to be able to have a non-problematic drink with friends and also being able to honestly enjoy it / But I tell ya, when in times of panic, distress and the occasional insomnia; that fucking liquor will make the problems disapear (though temporarily) and it'll knock you back to slumberland likity split if necessary / F-you, it works / It does! It's bad, it has concequences but on that oh so problematic moment -- it does the job / It's very difficult to ignore this FACT | TUESDAY, MARCH 13, 2007 h/e 155 march | saloppe en publique rarement saloppe au lit | THURSDAY, MARCH 22, 2007 h/e 159 march | And just like a sign of the times (add the weather in there) with the due date rapidly/slowly coming about (which I swear, still does not feel real), I live in surreal excess with borrowed money/time/emotion and I drink/ignore/create as if I'll never be able/available/allowed to when that day comes / [sign of the times = bullshit, by the way] | TUESDAY, APRIL 03, 2007 h/e 162 march | A widespread effect with possible long-term concequences and an exile that should will prove to be beneficial through perseverance and adjustment. Although some ties may be impetouously cut -- it is in no way a permanent severance. Adjusting to the new characters and chapters initiated by an authority that will instantly lose all dominance once the new book begins. Distant locations not distant memories | FRIDAY, MAY 11, 2007 duplicity [04] | A lover can really harm you, it's the ideal offensive but it is always remedied with time (or so you hope, and you should) 'cause ultimately you let the lover in, you've always got your share of the blame | FRIDAY, JUNE 01, 2007 duplicity [06] | In the hour that went from May to June and more to come | MONDAY, JUNE 04, 2007 / june [02] | Making certain that nothing'll be taken for granted / From the northern edge of the arcs to the east, west, south and everything in between; the axis now pulling in my family other than the numerous times you may spot them on the balcony / What they deserve, is more than I can list. This morning, forced into an offensive position, the right words that were juggling inside my head from the past months and years came out as violent loaded guns, there is little left to lose but the little left is worth fighting for | THURSDAY, JUNE 21, 2007 / june [04] In a (the) wide empty living room, under (the) two chandeleers, I set up my work space for the nine remaining days at the most inopportune of times / Loud music will echo naturally within the empty space, under the dim (barely lit) lights / Preparing my own final echoes, hoping they might be hum by (the) ghosts of the past long after my departure. Thank you C & W | THURSDAY, JUNE 28, 2007 / june [06] | Every tenant was invited back, save for one, but she did not enjoy the place to begin with / Even those who never had official residency are leaving so to speak / Not very far though... and not for very long either / Family turns corporate, it's not unheard of / Fortunately however, no one will ever experience it as we did back then / Onto new and better things, you gotta bounce back -- or you can wallow in it for the remainder of your life, which is fine by me, as long as you don't complain about a situation you choose not to rectify | FRIDAY, JULY 13, 2007 h/e 180 JULY | there is much to do in (precious) little time and it could get overwhelming fast / This is why it's all about focus and discipline here in the exile that is my temporary residence | SATURDAY, AUGUST 11, 2007 196/200 | A topic du jour often leads back to past references, past experiences, past comparisons, dated lessons and all their combined decreasing validities -- this must happen instinctively because logic states that new gets old quick -- therefore a faulty reflex that prevents the absorption of newfound situations, despite repeating patterns / If you believe in history repeating, you might as well just sit back and surrender all control | SUNDAY, AUGUST 12 / OCTOBER 2007 197/200 | La voix dans ma tête est d'un vieil anglais dramatique (à ne pas trop prendre au sérieux), c'est la trame sonore incessante de tout mes moments seuls. Elle me berce dans un vaste jardin anglais froid aux tons mossades de gris, de verts et de rares rouges percants / Le jardin est légèrement décoré d'antiquités, de certaines curiosités quasi-familières aux airs d'illusions et des pièces d'art qui n'ont jamais été terminés / Il y a également une mer brumeuse à l'extérieur qui se révèle en temps opportuns pour faire contraste à la nature riche (mais entretenue) du jardin / I recall the blinding high hedges of the backyard garden, pale greens and gray skies that welcomed me as I finally made it out ]

199/200

198/200

[august / october 10th 2007 edits] | There was a connection with the nearby "homes"; I alluded to it in August but I found confirmation last night in October, over wine and discussions about recent departures, all confessions that brought tears to my eyes and thoughts on what might've been. Here's to you WK, and to you also, gentle sir... in loving memory, salud.

197/200

[august / october 2007 edits] | La voix dans ma tête est d'un vieil anglais dramatique (à ne pas trop prendre au sérieux), c'est la trame sonore incessante de tout mes moments seuls. Elle me berce dans un vaste jardin anglais froid aux tons mossades de gris, de verts et de rares rouges percants. Le jardin est légèrement décoré d'antiquités, de certaines curiosités quasi-familières aux airs d'illusions et des pièces d'art qui n'ont jamais été terminés. Il y a également une mer brumeuse à l'extérieur qui se révèle en temps opportuns pour faire contraste à la nature riche (mais entretenue) du jardin. The influence comes from vague glimpses of my farthest memory; at a very young age, no older than three years old perhaps, locked in a classical house, unable to reach the door knob that would lead me outside -- inside, there were soothing piano notes played at a distance but they weren't enough to make me feel secure -- I recall the blinding high hedges of the backyard garden, pale greens and gray skies that welcomed me as I finally made it out.

196/200

[august / september 2007 edits] | A topic du jour often leads back to past references, past experiences, past comparisons, dated lessons and all their combined decreasing validities -- this must happen instinctively because logic states that new gets old quick -- therefore a faulty reflex that prevents the absorption of newfound situations, despite repeating patterns. If you believe in history repeating, you might as well just sit back and surrender all control. All easier said than done. I'll be the first to admit that I've done my fair share of serious pattern anticipations and though I might've been correct on several occasions, ultimately it was (is) a matter of simple concequence. This observation isn't a response to all those years of unfruitful calculations either; no matter the results, I find that only good can come out of flexing new muscles. There is much to be learned in observing all our automatisms, to question all that is reflexive... now, how long 'til this new gets old? In an honest/naked attempt to broaden appreciation, it doesn't matter; it's happening now.

«Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect; Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:-- We murder to dissect» ~ William Wordsworth, The Tables Turned

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husk/essem : photo collection print 2

Here's the second h/e print collection (the first one can be found here), this is a print of the h/e photos from 12.07 / 08.14. 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. More prints available online here on descendo prints.

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

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Secret meetings in the city (no, not secret hotels... not lately anyway). The business pressures are high and there is still so much to gain, it forces me into a calculating offensive position... something I'm all too familiar with, given the opportunity. We all hate being anybody's secret little target (or public, for that matter) -- let me do my thing, you do yours, but if you insist... well then, who am I to object? This is MONEY we're talking about and you should never get your opponent's blood pumping -- it's better than coffee; it's a controllable rush.

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So much sun / a brief summer kicks in and the nights are warmer than they should be. I find it very hard to tolerate but I prefer a mini-tropicana to a year long winter... there's an ideal middle in there somewhere. The humidity affects the motor functions of my left hand due to an old injury (an open fracture, actually) and it's getting worse with age. Give me autumn temperatures and a few more shows on guitar before it really becomes a problem.

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It is the same all around, aside from one sunset I've never experienced before and it was odd -- a certain shade/setting that was never over my head back when I was around -- that, and knowing that I don't owe the walls any money.

home is where ***

In between 20 minute rides / detente in both gardens. September it is.

aqua/capture

delayed reposts for the 200th countdown due to lack of "intimacy" / polishing in progress | Rushing out a complimentary set to the 4th print series (that was generally misunderstood) with a collection of raw watercolor pieces that are "sure to please" (easy, but there isn't any real interest, i'm just sayin'). It is only reactionary because it had to counter the previous ones and not because they aren't worthy; it was exactly where I wanted to go next -- but it had to come much sooner (pour ne pas dire, directement après). There was a brand new box of watercolor pencils in my art box that must've been lying there for years collecting dust and I've used them to create the new pieces before getting the hang of it -- making accidental pieces in the process yet again.

further north

Doesn't matter if the photos were taken in black and white, you can tell it was a sunny day.

It isn't necessarily quiet, away from the city; the chirping of crickets and the faint sounds of distant empty/rusty playground swings rocking back and forth to the humming of an eerie wind... it's another kind of echo altogether.

later

The room is on the second floor (it is the second floor actually), there used to be souvenirs there but we painted over them all in one fell swoop as if nothing had ever occured up there (suits me just fine) and now it is a work studio with a bed somewhere and that's how it was back there too... The space itself is cold and narrow but the atmosphere adds to the makeshift situation; it's an art-ready shelter. The remainder of my belongings are on the other side in clean boxes ready to be picked up for the next move. I go back there still, often and sometimes by myself, back to say hello, back to show I haven't really left, walking past the building knowing that we've won our loss, so to speak, and it's something I take comfort in despite any animosity the distance could've generated (nothing a little time and effort can't fix) -- there is no one there to replace us and no one will ever get to experience the view as it was then. It is still home somehow, locked outside but it's still home. And then there's the home away from home. Until then.

late

15 away from attempting another 100 posts per year on the exact date h/e started. Though it wasn't an arduous task, I managed to pull it off the first time around (see here) but it seems unlikely to happen this year -- or not, I don't know, I do hate to cancel traditions. I had hoped that by now, most (if not all) of the stressful issues would've been dealt with and that August would've served as a starting point for the plans to come but wishful thinking can only get you so far -- it looks as though August needs a little jump start.