i just got back from seeing julie and julia, and as much as i’m saddened to hear that jc was a raging homophobe, and off course the film has nothing on the book, i liked it. that’s all i have to say for now, as i’m overwhelmed with school, a couple web contracts, and my life. we’re moving and i’m canning jams/jellies/salsa/vinegar syrups, and things are good. i’m also preparing the dance music for a couple of upcoming weddings, which is why i’m now going to leave you with this gem:
Filed under: Bike Geek, Co-operator, Homebody, Music Lover, Romantic, Scavenger, Traveler
oats gave me an early birthday present!
it’s a reproduction antique compass in a brass pocket-watch-style case, and i LOVE it. i didn’t own a compass before this… which is odd, considering how important it is to my mental health for me to know my bearings. now i’ll always know what direction i’m heading, and have a something beautiful to look at whenever i’m fretting.
last night we went for a long stroll after dinner, down through the side streets to the ocean. right after we turned homewards, we came across an absolutely incredible piece of furniture at the curb. a quick discussion ensued, made urgent by the encroaching darkness and another passerby eager to check it out if we decided to pass.
the thing is, oats and i are suckers for anything made from solid wood, and we both love the lines of (most) old furniture. aside from that, we’ve been talking about diversifying our income by turning our scavenging into a more lucrative hobby, by selling the pieces that we refinish.
so, i stayed behind to guard our new treasure, and oats took off to find a co-op car. hooray for the car share: the closest vehicle was available, and it just happened to be a minivan! i’ll skip the drama of us trying to load, and simply tell you that i couldn’t even lift one side of this thing. we got it up to our 2nd story apartment by taking advantage of the kindness of burly macho men from downstairs who seemed pleased to work for a 12-pack of sleem@n’s.
and now! behold!
it’s true: we don’t actually need an RCA Victor Magic Voice combination phonograph and radio cabinet from around the 1940s. but it’s so gorgeous, and we got it for the price of some beer and a car booking (totalling ~$31, in case you were wondering). my original thought was that we’d gut it, refinish the wood, and use it as a sideboard with storage underneath… perhaps making the speaker section into a glass-doored display shelf lit from above. however, at the urging of the burly macho men downstairs, that thought is on hold as we try to suss out some more information about the piece. maybe it’d be smarter of us to restore it to working condition? we already have a functional and sexy record/radio cabinet, though very different from this one: it’s more 1960s, but still solid wood, with a low profile, modern lines, and metal legs. personally, i’d rather turn the Magic Voice into something that suits my more immediate need for attractive storage space.
or… sell it? the old sticker on the back says $445 (8th photo from top of series), but who knows what the value is these days. of course, any real value is dependent on what a person might actually pay, which is conditional on a few other factors that aren’t really in our favour: the economy’s crappy, we live on an island, and this thing weighs a ton so is hell to move. also, i like it, and i’m not desperate for cash at the moment. i think my minimum selling price would be $500, because that’d pay for oats and i to each put together a touring bike (using my stash of cherry components, a couple 2nd hand frames, and some new parts too). otherwise, i think i’d rather keep it.
all round, my birthday’s looking pretty great.
**********
i’m having a bday bbq this upcoming tuesday! it’s at oats’ place (now mine as well), above the square! 5 pm onwards! there’ll be sangria and mojitos and sausages! also, veggie stuff! also, cake! please come!
this is why it’s hard to leave: your friends will turn the bike shop into a dancefloor, your lover will supply an amazing sound system, you’ll set up your computer with an eclectic collection of indie electronica and hits from the 1990s, and your community will devote a saturday night/sunday morning to laughing, talking, drinking, and yes: dancing.
5 days left. i’m going to miss y’all.
Dear Gregory Charles,
I just heard that “In the Key of Charles” will be canceled, and I’m writing to tell you how sorry I am. Aside from being an avid radio listener, I volunteer with my local community station as well as produce my own program. Dynamic shows such as yours are what inspire my involvement in this medium.
I was lucky enough to attend your performance on the West Coast two weekends ago, and it was absolutely incredible. Perhaps the bright side to all of this is that there will be more opportunities for your audience to enjoy the charm and grace of your magnificent stage presence.
I wish you all the best.
Sincerely,
Feral Geographer
my mom is coming to town next week, and i just got us onto the guest list to see gregory charles! yay!
also, after talking with my bff, lover, and neighbours, i’ve decided that my sudden enthusiasm for WWOOFing around Australia instead of staying in Melbourne is a slight overreaction, and i need to wait and see what happens. it’s more than likely that everything will work out fine for my friends, and i’ll be able to live with them for those 4 months after all. it’s good to explore options, but not worth stressing over.
this photo makes more sense if you watch the video, linked below
i exaggerate: i’m not actually legally divorced, because i’ve never exactly been married, per se.
however, i am the veteran of two common-law domestic arrangements that occasioned shared property and health care benefits as well as discussions of formal marriage ceremonies, in one case going so far as to get the license for such recognition. the genders of the people with whom i was involved in each of these two situations were different, but the time and place being what they were, this was not relevant.
or not in a legal sense, anyway… emotionally, that’s another story.
at any rate, i’m no longer legally attached to a partner, but have been so in the past. when each of those relationships ended, my ex(es) and i divided possessions, agreed on the custody of our dependents (cat and dog), and amended assorted paperwork to reflect our situation. we chose to do this: the dissolution of our legal relationship was associated with our decision to end our romantic relationship.
as is rather common throughout the wider heteronormative world, it was our decision to make.
and really? really, i should be able to take this for granted, but instead i feel damn lucky that i was able to make this decision instead of having the state make it for me. if i didn’t live in this province, in this country, in this time period, i could have had the government annulling my marriage based not on the status of my love but instead on my sexual identity.
i don’t think it’s simply my inner-anarchist telling me how crazy that would be.
and yet that’s the reality faced by 18,000 couples living just south of my small island city.
i’m prompted to write about this after reading about the ongoing struggle against proposition 8 in the american state of california, and especially the firsthand experiences of bloggers who have been working for marriage equality. want more info on prop 8? i’m sending you to the No On 8 page over at Lesbian Dad, because even though the author calls it an “unholy mess”, it’s really the best reference i’ve found.
also, check out this video… which had me at hello because i love regina spektor, and then was still making me all weepy on the 27th viewing.
props to amanda for putting this up on her blog ages ago… i’m always late to the party!
Filed under: Animal Lover, Artist, Critic, Friend, Music Lover, Punk, Radio Star, Scavenger
since em commented on my last post that all i show you are “teaser” photos, i thought i’d let you in on what you’re missing, with a nice zoomed-out shot: look! gamin is helping me with my sewing project!
mmmm, cat @ss…
i didn’t make the quilt: i just repaired it for a friend because the panels were coming apart. of course, once i had it in pieces, i decided to replace the cotton lining with some batting that i had laying around… i’ve *got* to use up all these art supplies, cuz i can’t bear to think of packing them up yet *again*.
with that in mind, i’m going through the clothes as well as the fabric and doing what i can. a dorky long skirt (100% wool, lined, only $12 @ value pillage in toronto! even my stepmom was impressed, and she’s totally creeped-out by secondhand clothes!) became a totally kickass short skirt, plus… this belated solstice gift for my bff –>
teh skillz, i haz dem.
while sewing, i usually watch/listen to bad teevee: i’ve just started into buffy. should i bother telling you how offended i am? the sexism, the uniform whiteness, the f*cked up cultural representations? no, you’ve heard it before. to think, all these years i thought i was missing out, and now i’m glad i skipped it the first time ’round.
critical analysis aside, what really bugs me is the music. was cool music in the 90s really that bad? last week my buddy c interviewed me on his radio show about what music has influenced me, and i said that it was my cheapness that had me first listening to old punk bands like the clash, because i could get their albums from the library or thrift stores. now i’m reconsidering this concept, because the music on buffy is so tedious and yet so familiar: it’s no wonder i got into punk.
Filed under: Music Lover
it has come to my attention that the new album of a toronto-based improvisational band, i have eaten the city, is titled feral geography. this is especially amusing because, up until 8 years ago, i lived in toronto. it’s like… these people… whom i don’t even know but with whom i could possibly have rubbed elbows at some point… have created a soundtrack… for me.
except that i’m more into motown, bad pop, folk, punkity stuff, and indie hipster music than the sort of thing these people play.
hey, maybe i should expand my interests.
want to rock out to feral geography? check out the i have eaten the city mysp@ce page.
the studio version of antony and the johnsons singing fistful of love with lou reed.
***
you know what’s funny? the things we don’t know that we don’t know. i mean, in general, it’s weird to think about. but specifically, this past weekend i spent a wonderful afternoon on the floor of my best friend’s bedroom, talking about the completely fucked-up romantic relationships in our pasts that seemed pretty normal and acceptable at the time. was it because we were younger and more inexperienced than our current wise and aged selves? or because so many other friends were in similar situations? were the people we dated inherently abusive, or was it just the way we-in-particular were together? how come we didn’t know what we didn’t know, and what did it take for us to learn it? more importantly, how could we change things so that others can know it without learning it the way we did?
***
it’s a good song, though sad when you think of it being about domestic violence. i like to pretend they’re actually singing about hot passionate sex, the kind that leaves bruises and bite marks.
i just spent the last couple hours working at refinishing a small dresser/nightstand that i picked up at the side of the road back in september. it’s been crowding my entryway ever since the day that i brought it home, because an earlier attempt to burn off the paint with a blowtorch proved to be rather unsuccessful: there were simply too many layers, and a mix of latex and oil-based at that.
(people! if your furniture is made from solid wood, don’t paint it! if you must, please use nice colours, and don’t layer latex on top of oil. better yet, check with me before you do anything at all. really, if you don’t like the look of real wood, maybe you should stick to particle board and leave the good stuff to those of us who love it. yes, i have control issues.)
at the advice of my upstairs neighbours, i’ve moved on to using chemicals, which i usually avoid due to the environmental impact. though, now that i think about it, the propane in my blowtorch ain’t exactly an impact-free product. huh. anyway. as much as i loathe to admit it, the super stripp@ is pretty damn effective. if my digital camera were functioning, i’d treat you to a short film of the paint blistering. it’s stunning. the fumes i’m breathing in are no doubt contributing to my appreciation of it.
so i’m painting on the chemicals and scraping away at the parts where the paint is already lifting, and i’ve got veda hille playing, five albums on shuffle. my mind was wandering and i was thinking about the times i’ve seen veda in concert, and the different memories i have of those events, and then the songs themselves, and the people they remind me of: a lover who put one song on a mix tape, a friend who always remarks on the similarity of our musical choices from back before we knew each other, a co-conspirator with whom i produced a radio show for which we used the “songs for emily carr” album as a soundtrack, a pair of artists whose studio i used to hang out in while listening to a cassette of that same album over and over into the wee hours of the night.
i’m painting and scraping and thinking, and the outer layer of paint peels away easily with no chemicals at all, and i see the word “veda”.
i know, i know: this photo is almost useless, cuz i used my webcam. but still, you can kinda see it, right? upside down, written in pencil in handwriting like that of a kid.
peeling back more paint, i find the rest of it:
“i love jade”
“jade 06″
“hawt lol omfg!!!!!”
“stop all that downloadin”
“veda also likes jade”
“veda 2008″
SO. WEIRD. first off, that this dresser was repainted so recently and yet still looked crappy… but that aside, how common is the name veda? i am overwhelmed with notions that my thoughts are manifesting in bizarre occurrences outside of my consciousness, such as causing kids named veda to vandalize furniture that will later be tossed to the curb on the exact day that i’ve borrowed my ex’s car and am out hunting for such treasures, furniture that i decide to strip instead of repaint and decide to do so while listening to the collected works of only one of the hundreds of artists in my music collection.
i think i need to sleep more.
