Friday, August 7, 2009

FULL MOON

Stayed up all night, decided to avoid sleeping altogether, washed hair, biked to High Park, heard the sound of either a coyote or a peacock, ate breakfast ($5 incl. coffee) at the Grenadier while weeds were being whacked, biked along the lake, Sunnyside pool is finally full of water, finally got to sleep.

Dan and I were talking about synchronicities and psychic phenomenon. Dan saw an imaginary kitten and it just so happens that there was a completely real kitten in the same room, only on a different day. I was at work thinking it had been a long time since I've had to make some kind of fancy cocktail from the olden times. Something like a Gimlet. I thought about it for a while: a Gimlet is vodka or gin with lime cordial on ice. Of course, someone comes into the bar and orders, not one, but two Gimlets. Let me make this clear: no one has ever ordered a Gimlet from me. Then Dan and I are talking about how movies from the 80's are just exactly like the ways that we want to live. We say that John Hughes really fucked with the minds of our generation. Right as we are saying this: JOHN HUGHES DIES. 

There are swing dancers in the park every Thursday night. You can't see them, because it's unnaturally dark on Thursdays also, but they bring a radio and you can hear their shoes on the gazebo. You can see them sometimes in the flash of a camera, or by the light of the moon.


Thursday, August 6, 2009


I made this a while ago

NIGHT BIRD AT DUNDAS AND OSSINGTON

If you try to google “night bird at Dundas and Ossington,” you don’t get any real answers. There’s a night bird outside the window. I swear to god, it’s just one bird. I can hear it’s creepy squeak while it circles the corner. The scary sound gets closer and further away and then closer again. Every goddamn 2 or 3 seconds, I swear. I’ve counted. It’s about 4 am, I am out on the corner and I look up and it’s sound is everywhere. The whole night is dedicated only to it’s shrill cry and some taxis that drive around desperately. I saw it once tonight. It looks small like a bat but it’s white as lightening, and then it’s gone. I swear to you: there's only one up there, shreeking for some unknown and potentially frightening reason. Perhaps it's lost or lonely. I am eating a taquito and wearing loafers on earth, and it is circling the night sky, hopelessly crying out.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Girl who refused to dance with me - m4w - 44 (Blue Suede Sue's)

Hi Anonymous, saw you standing with the stairs adjacent to main dance floor of blue Suede Sue's on Aug1. Your were enjoying by yourself. I offered you to dance with me but you refused (very sad for me). Later I felt very Jealous when saw you attracted to a white male of pretty old age. You look like from south east Asia or Trinidad or Guyanese or other Caribbean country. You were wearing a black frock. I wanna see and make you my little tinny and fun loving friend.. 

Sunday, August 2, 2009

INTERESTING PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET #1




INAUGURAL CEREMONIES




I performed four different ceremonies at Extermination Music Night on July 17. 

Thursday, July 30, 2009

ANNA BLOG



There’s a certain kind of blank book you could get in Chinatown that had something more to it. It says DIARY on the spine in gold. It comes in at least three different colour combinations. It’s covered in a shimmering, patterned cloth. The pages are thin and crispy with soft clouds and ducks and oceans and ships on every page. EVERY PAGE! They’re ancient seeming things. It feels like they’ve already lived a life somehow and when they get into your hands- it’s like what you write never fails to mean something.

I was working on this project all about the secret, self-deprecating and constructed world that my diary allows me to have and it turns out that this one that I have is the last of it’s kind. It’s over. These relics cannot be bought in stores in Toronto at this time. This seemed very significant. I figured that it meant that I should finally grow up and stop writing down the silly things that I do. Instead, I should write novels, make mind-maps or calculate something about grants or taxes. I went for a little black book with white paper that has NO pictures on it whatsoever and is also too thick. It is a decidedly more mature choice.  But it is a very juvenile idea that this dumb blank book is going to make me a more mature person.

But, it’s funny that I have all of these things that come from my mind are being held between two covers and kept far away from you.