If this looks too vanilla and frameless, a spider sent you here and you should click here

last | current | jim | juls | jodie| carla

 

Sunday March 02


The bed is a queen size box spring and mattress, without frame or headboard. The sheets are 250 thread count white cotton, obtained in the Brasillian equivalent of Wal Mart almost three years ago. Four pillows, in two black and two white pillowcases.

The duvet cover is custom-made Chinese silk, in a grey pink the colour of champagne, which match the curtain panels, accented in bamboo-leaf green.

Two IKEA bedside tables in birch;
Hers; four small jewelry boxes, a rubber figure with the base of a serpent and the torso and head of a woman wearing only a red tube-top. A red glass votive holder, an easy-open bottle of Tylenol, a pewter votive lantern, a roll of toilet paper, a 15 ml bottle of eucalyptus oil, a bottle of suede blue nail polish. A silver Swatch wristwatch, small nail clippers. Anais Nin's diaries, "The Pregnancy Journal", CS Jones' "31 Hymns to the Star Goddess". A Paul Frank "Julius the Monkey" night light.

His; mates to both the pewter lantern and red votive holder, a small black stone, a rosewood Buddha, a small ceramic day-of-the-dead mariachi, a bottle of Advil. A black office telephone, a BMW Mini brochure, an IKEA catalog, William Gibson's "Pattern Recognition". A steel two-zone analog alarm clock, with black and white photographs of two small boys. A red enamel Swiss Army watch.

A metre-high three-drawer cabinet in matching birch with aluminum pulls, a box of Kleenex, Henry Miller's "Quiet Days in Clichy" and "Eric Kroll's Fetish Girls" erotic photography.

A pale green and powder-steel IKEA folding chair, the bed cushions (in green and bone chinese silk, two square and one bolster). Black pants from a ninjitsu gi.

A SITCOM powder-steel office coat rack bearing a black slip, a black collarless cotton shirt, and a rumpled white linen pajama shirt.
North wall: White, a 32 x 18 digital print exhibited in a small gallery show 4 years ago. The door to the featureless, white-carpeted hallway.

East wall: White. Two sliding windows with white venetian blinds, a silver curtain rod with small microphone finials. Two drawer pulls the shape of oak leaves on the windowsill. A tiny figurine of a skeleton in a business suit, with a broken arm.

South wall: A rich clay green. Two wall-mounted silver halogen bedside lamps, an antique tin door lintel above the bed, two bouquets of dried red roses, a small print of a pale, half nude woman. A silver ankh pendant, and a smaller seven-pointed star, also in silver.

West wall: White. Mirrored folding doors to a walk-in closet. The white door to the small ensuite. A framed bookcover of "Waking Beauty" showing the detail of a young woman's hands bound by rope behind her back, cradling an inverted rose in her palm.

Sunday January 26

 

Solstice - yes I realize that this is rather considerably after the fact, but I pulled these off the camera this morning.

There were fire dancers in the park, and a lantern procession to the Yaletown Community Centre where we walked through a gorgeous and solemn labrynth of candles. The labrynth took about an hour, and we both felt like we'd come back from a spa weekend.

Friday January 17

 

Forgive me blog, for I have sinned, it's been 3 months since my last confession.
The little excuses, a cold, fatigue, work stress. Then NaNoWriMo, and only writing fiction. One of my more valuable failures, I learned to write in thousand-word-blocks and swear profusely. The move, Christmas, work, fatherhood...
I have in fact been writing rather a lot, it's just been work related, or in the tragic-minority of keystrokes, fiction for various pet projects.
But I'm back, for a bit anyway, and I like it here. I'm taking a belated New Year's resolution to breathe a little.

There's a Tarot Card called the Blasted Tower - it represents cycles of change represented by differences in physical states and environments. I mention this because I've been waving this card as a flag lately - metaphorically anyway. Six weeks ago we moved into a personality-free townhouse in North Vancouver, which we are rehabilitating with colour. We have a car, a reliable and unspectacular VW Fox named "Ingrid". I've left College A and am now teaching (and marketing and developing curriculum for) College B, and the main thrust of my career has made the unlikely change from running a design consultancy for late-paying clients to building a game company with the aid of some very fun people. It's like my life was on TV and I accidentally sat on the remote, changing the channel entirely.

Then there's the Coming Attraction: Z is gorgeously round and maternal, we can see the baby kick and wiggle, and we're all of us tremendously excited at the prospect of meeting this small pink wiggly person.