30 May 2011
four thousand kilometers in four and a half hours
I spent a week in Vancouver with my mother and sisters with record cold and rainy temperatures for the month of May. We stayed in the veritable bowels of the downtown city, and with such unseasonable conditions, it seemed to make sense that we take a trip to the mall which, after a week of very similar escapades, had me feeling perfectly claustrophobic and depressed. Downtown Vancouver is much like the downtown of any major Canadian city. Big gritty buildings, hoards of traffic and noise, a Starbucks on what seemed like every two blocks and the usual suspects of Holt Renfrew, Pottery Barn, Club Monaco, topped with a visit to the makeup counter of Chanel at the Bay. In my defense for initially taking pleasure from these activities, giving in to consumerism can be gratifying in a sickly way, sortof like binging on cookie dough ice cream and cheezies.
The majestic snow-capped mountains in the rainy ghostly glow of the atmosphere taunted me as I plodded through the noisy dusty street. It left me with a feeling of longing and malaise. I wanted to be on those big mountains in the middle of all that pure wildness. I wanted to smell the fresh air that I knew was there on those mountains. I felt caught in a cage.
I tried to buy things to get rid of that feeling, thought that maybe the real reason for my grumpy mood was that I needed new shoes or a new hat, or maybe a haircut. I despondently bought a frumpy t-shirt dress and leopard print socks at H&M. Started to think that vomiting would be the only way to get what at that point felt like a growing "thing" inside of me out.
I developed a seemingly permanent sick feeling in my gut, a dullness in my brain, a palpable heaviness. Tried to kill it with another cappuccino, I found that alcohol worked much better.
On the way to the airport on the Skytrain, a girl sat a few rows over in a dirty hoodie and jeans. She had sores on her face and she alternated between talking to herself and sleeping, muttering to beg some change. She had blue eyes and blond hair and she couldn't have been more than 20. Her deflated worn figure was a stark contrast to the shiny spaceship-like quality of the train's interior.
On the way home in the plane, I bought an Adbusters magazine which helped ease the existential crisis a bit. I read a speech by a vegan activist given just before he was sentenced to prison after his arson attacks on the Tandy Leather Factory and a foie gras restaurant.
The jet traveled four thousand kilometers in four and a half hours, almost all the way almost across the continent. I squished my nose against the airplane's window on the descent, examining the frost on the glass from the low temperatures of high altitude. I kept looking as we descended beneath the cloud cover until I could see St Joseph's Oratory reliably perched on Mont-Royal.
I came home to a lonely Montreal apartment, the cats had puked on the floor in my absence which I dutifully cleaned up, knowing that a sprinkle of water would help soften up the hardened splats.
I opened a beer and swept the floor, thinking about ways to stop that "thing" from getting inside me for once and for all.
The majestic snow-capped mountains in the rainy ghostly glow of the atmosphere taunted me as I plodded through the noisy dusty street. It left me with a feeling of longing and malaise. I wanted to be on those big mountains in the middle of all that pure wildness. I wanted to smell the fresh air that I knew was there on those mountains. I felt caught in a cage.
I tried to buy things to get rid of that feeling, thought that maybe the real reason for my grumpy mood was that I needed new shoes or a new hat, or maybe a haircut. I despondently bought a frumpy t-shirt dress and leopard print socks at H&M. Started to think that vomiting would be the only way to get what at that point felt like a growing "thing" inside of me out.
I developed a seemingly permanent sick feeling in my gut, a dullness in my brain, a palpable heaviness. Tried to kill it with another cappuccino, I found that alcohol worked much better.
On the way to the airport on the Skytrain, a girl sat a few rows over in a dirty hoodie and jeans. She had sores on her face and she alternated between talking to herself and sleeping, muttering to beg some change. She had blue eyes and blond hair and she couldn't have been more than 20. Her deflated worn figure was a stark contrast to the shiny spaceship-like quality of the train's interior.
On the way home in the plane, I bought an Adbusters magazine which helped ease the existential crisis a bit. I read a speech by a vegan activist given just before he was sentenced to prison after his arson attacks on the Tandy Leather Factory and a foie gras restaurant.
The jet traveled four thousand kilometers in four and a half hours, almost all the way almost across the continent. I squished my nose against the airplane's window on the descent, examining the frost on the glass from the low temperatures of high altitude. I kept looking as we descended beneath the cloud cover until I could see St Joseph's Oratory reliably perched on Mont-Royal.
I came home to a lonely Montreal apartment, the cats had puked on the floor in my absence which I dutifully cleaned up, knowing that a sprinkle of water would help soften up the hardened splats.
I opened a beer and swept the floor, thinking about ways to stop that "thing" from getting inside me for once and for all.
21 May 2011
untitled like a cure song
writing on the old com
puter it's actually your
com
puter you
gave it a
way but we
could've stayed there for
ever in that
place where we were there was
mice in the
base
ment there was music and
bourbon there
was so much of
beauty there
was a quick burst of
energy flame
in
to forevers of
wholedarkness star constell
ations of
matterless beyond but
in the end there is all
this is not lost there is
all this in the end there is
love or
else
nothing
puter it's actually your
com
puter you
gave it a
way but we
could've stayed there for
ever in that
place where we were there was
mice in the
base
ment there was music and
bourbon there
was so much of
beauty there
was a quick burst of
energy flame
in
to forevers of
wholedarkness star constell
ations of
matterless beyond but
in the end there is all
this is not lost there is
all this in the end there is
love or
else
nothing
19 May 2011
Sobey Art Award Short List
The 2011 Short List
Atlantic Zeke Moores
Québec Manon De Pauw
Ontario Christian Giroux and Daniel Young
Prairies and the North Sarah Anne Johnson (woohoo! yeah Sarah!)
West Coast Charles Stankievech
Atlantic Zeke Moores
Québec Manon De Pauw
Ontario Christian Giroux and Daniel Young
Prairies and the North Sarah Anne Johnson (woohoo! yeah Sarah!)
West Coast Charles Stankievech
15 May 2011
13 May 2011
Musilogue book cover
I've been working on a book of music drawings for the past little while, hope to make it to print by the fall...just tweaking some of the design work, here's the cover/title I'm going with! Yippee!
11 May 2011
08 May 2011
HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!
HAPPY MOTHERS DAY! If you know a mom, or have a mom, or know someone who is or was loved by a mom, and if you ever have or did or currently do love your mom, then you're probably all right with me.
07 May 2011
Dear Stephen Harper (#2): So, I'm like that lefty, artsy, media type that Conservative bloggers seem to not like. I write about art, I work at a magazine that gets funding, and I once got AN ARTS GRANT for a novel I've worked on for 8 years. Yep, taxpayer money. But I work hard for it, and I'm not a bad guy for all that. Really I'm not. Maybe you're not either. Guess we'll see. Your pal, Lorne.
Dear Stephen Harper: I saw two amazing musicians practicing in the park today-- a big crowd gathered around them to listen. But then I thought: "Wait a second! As an ordinary Canadian, can I relate to their music? Are they the kind of artists who go to taxpayer-funded galas?" Still confused, Stephen. Please advise. Your pal, Lorne.
06 May 2011
02 May 2011
World's Greatest Song
http://www.wired.com/listening_post/2008/05/survey-produced/
I know I posted this before, but it seems extra cheeky right now. For me, it seems like the existing templates for government all have glaring, inherent flaws. Just like selecting music qualities through survey results. With our technological interconnectivity modern gov't seems way out of date. This archaic system is unrealistic. With individuals symbolically representing masses (entire nations on one scale), it becomes a game of propoganda and corruption,protecting the interests of the wealthy. Please excuse me if this seems cynical, but the things I see in the news, the way people act and make decisions baffles the hell out of me. The world seems farcical, like a big episode of {place reality tv show here}. That's not a coincedence. We program ourselves that way. Imagine for a second if we were able to recognize there is a better way of doing things, and acted to change it collectively. Imagine if we re-programmed ourselves with values that were aimed at our collective outcome (as opposed to selling toxic candy)! I know it would be nearly impossible to convince a fat cat, but the truth is: the better things are for the group, the better things are for the individual. It might even help us overcome all the looming global catastrophes (oil spills and nulear meltdowns). Ok, end rant. Sorry about that.
I know I posted this before, but it seems extra cheeky right now. For me, it seems like the existing templates for government all have glaring, inherent flaws. Just like selecting music qualities through survey results. With our technological interconnectivity modern gov't seems way out of date. This archaic system is unrealistic. With individuals symbolically representing masses (entire nations on one scale), it becomes a game of propoganda and corruption,protecting the interests of the wealthy. Please excuse me if this seems cynical, but the things I see in the news, the way people act and make decisions baffles the hell out of me. The world seems farcical, like a big episode of {place reality tv show here}. That's not a coincedence. We program ourselves that way. Imagine for a second if we were able to recognize there is a better way of doing things, and acted to change it collectively. Imagine if we re-programmed ourselves with values that were aimed at our collective outcome (as opposed to selling toxic candy)! I know it would be nearly impossible to convince a fat cat, but the truth is: the better things are for the group, the better things are for the individual. It might even help us overcome all the looming global catastrophes (oil spills and nulear meltdowns). Ok, end rant. Sorry about that.
01 May 2011
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