I feel like I'm saying "wow" a lot; in my head and in actual life. This is not such a bad thing, when you think about it. From my long and substantial conversations with many close people, I've basically learned 90% of what I know about life. That's a lot. One of those things I've learned is that everyone goes through tough times. Basic, right? But think about this fact: it's not only meaningful. It's as meaningful as it is obvious. This is extremely rare. For example: this doesn't happen in art. It doesn't happen in markets. It happens only when it comes to the purely existential. One must have ups and downs. More on this later. ¶ I think the basic job of a person is to exercise empathy. I also think it's the basic job of the world to be blissfully ignorant of this aspiration. The result, of course, is what happens after the director yells 'Action'—it's what happens. ¶ I've been having a good week. So many things are fucked up in the world; it's nice to see how goodness can be carved from it. It's important. ¶ I hope everyone is having a great Autumn.

Labels: Londontown, Vague

¶ 11:20 PM

Busy times again. I write this every year but like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives: I love the crisp autumnal winds in Southwestern Ontario. We had a tremendous August and it capped off one hard year. Plenty of blood, sweat, and fears. And what now looms is like the ship in Close Encounters: big, cinematic, and terrifying. Unexpected but in the stars. ¶ I was fortunate enough to sell all three of my pieces at this year's Square Foot Show at the AWOL gallery on Ossington. I've participated in most of the shows since its inception. Problem is (for lack of a better term), I have no idea who bought them. Whoever you are: enjoy them. I was super pleased with how they turned out. ¶ Watch for my work in upcoming issues of The Improper Bostonian, Hearst's Town & Country, and AARP. I'm also going to be doing quite a bit of work in upcoming re-designed issues of B.C. Business. ¶ I've been receiving some great suggestions for Visionary Canadians. Watch for the next installment in October. ¶ Stay cool, keep golden, and always watch for the smart play.

Labels: Freelancing, Vague

¶ 2:24 PM

I'd lost my confidence there for a while. That's something, and I don't mind saying so. Like many professions, a good part of mine is a head game. There is a technical aspect as well and this fact is sweetly appreciated especially when one is in a fog. Having said that: if the mental game is off, or gone, there's very little of quality that is traced on my hard drive. You can't deny the facts. You can't seem to do it. The skill is there, but buried. And it's not black and white, else it would be a simple matter and not a vague one. ¶ Of course it's easier to talk about once things start to come back. It's always a relief and never trivial. I feel better again, and it has to do in part with how happy I've been with some recent work. I really thought my Farmiga worked; I was very happy with Carlin (it was one of my quickest drawings on record coming in at just under 3 minutes), and to boot I think Judd Apatow turned out real swell. Anyway, here's to improving drawing. Have a good one.

Labels: Freelancing, SitewayWorld, Vague

¶ 10:53 PM

As imperfect as I wanna be. Someone's tagline. ¶ Feeling good. It strikes me: it's been ten years since I discovered Seth and Joe Matt. Oh boy.

Labels: Vague

¶ 8:38 PM

One of the ways a line-of-argument can alienate me is if it under-values the worth of conceptual thinking. Sure, you won't see conceptual thought in lots of important places: ROI, sales figures, or even the plans for the future. Deliverables are the name of the game 99% of the time. The thing, in this life, right now. Whatever that is. But from whence does the thing come from? Where does innovation come from? Where does our understanding of a problem come from? From the conceptual. Conceptual thought requires of a thinker a disengagement with the contingent, with our instantiation, and our histories. People are fond of saying that "we should bring our experiences to the table" but this kind of empiricism only works some of the time. It works well at parties, for example. It also works well in group therapy, I'm guessing, and any other community-oriented or social behaviour. But if you want to look at systems, as systems, then perhaps it's time to think conceptually. It's incumbent on the thinker to separate the necessary from the contingent. It is not incumbent that the thinker constantly cash her ideas out. You need to let some ideas ride. ¶ Had a thought last night. Why not take the main menu down from the feature area. Clean up the top of the page. Feedback welcomed.

Labels: Siteway, Vague

¶ 3:59 PM

I don't usually blog "live," if you will. You know how it goes: the important members of the blogosphere blog in real time. Of course: it's the net. Why wouldn't you? But I don't blog that way. I usually get an idea, write an e-mail to myself and then maybe, just maybe, I'll post it, or some derivation of it. Right now I'm blogging live: Tina Fey is on Letterman! Tonight! Very excited. I guess I've been too busy to check my constantly-updated blogs. ¶ Speaking of George Clooney, I'm pretty happy with how this illustration has aged. Not bad. If you don't my me saying.

Labels: Vague

¶ 11:45 PM

I've been going through one of those creative incubation periods. I can sometimes tell because one symptom is thinking of good blog post ideas but never seeing them to fruition. I've been inspired; I am riffing. ¶ One of the reasons why I like Martin Scorsese so much, as an artist, is because he's a personal artist. He is, if this isn't too pat, an honest filmmaker. He responds to criticism with a shoulder shrug. He does what he does well, technically, and everything else is just his spirit. You either dig that, or you don't. But his films resonate with people, emotionally, like my emotional connection to GoodFellas; to Taxi Driver; to Casino. He expresses his ideas without deception through film, and he has good ideas. He also feels the same way as I do about flying. ¶ I've been working to inject more cinema into my work of late. That's why I haven't been updating my feature illustration. As I mentioned above, I'm incubating a few competing ideas on what next to showcase on Siteway, so please stay tuned. By cinema I don't just mean my subject matter, although I do mean that, too. I also mean those elements of cinema that are so appealing: the still-grandness of it, the iconography of it, the spirit of film. In the short term I think it means I'll be depicting not just characters from film, but whole scenes. This involves more labour than pure portaiture, but it's where I'm headed, so there's no sense worrying about the degree of difficulty. ¶ I've got a bunch of work out there or coming soon. I've done a few illustrations lately for Canadian Home Workshop, Meetings & Incentive Travel, and you can continue to see my work in L.A. CityBeat and NewAngeles. ¶ We've been making a bunch of Cypriot meatballs lately. Kief-TE-thez, similar to Greek meatballs, are a combination of beef, pork, potato, parsley, cinnamon, mint, salt & pepper.

Here's my Mom's recipe:

about half a kg. ground meat, half pork and half beef
5 good size potatoes
1-2 onions
quite a few sprigs of parsley
1 egg
salt, pepper
cinnamon, a few shakes
dried mint, 1 tsp
Here's how I prepare it (which differs slightly from my mother's version). I grate the potatoes and add them (grated potato plus their juices) into a big bowl with the meat. Then I chop up the onions into tiny bits, and add them to the bowl, along with the egg, the parsley, and the rest. Then I form them into smallish balls (not the rugby-ball shaped ones you see in Greektown) about an inch in diameter. Heat up some vegetable oil in a large skillet and cook away. It's pretty involved, the frying that is, so get ready (apron, drink) and you'll be fine.

Labels: CareerTalk, Cinema, Clear, Recipe, Vague

¶ 4:01 PM

Spring: please let me explain. I never meant to cause you sorrow or pain. We love spring for the reasons that Charlton Heston still makes audiences swoon: he's charming and human. Spring is humane. ¶ I'm not sure who I've been writing to for about two years. That's a significant amount of time to go before knowing a fairly basic fact. Like a slack university student, I've shied away. I've wanted to write all along, of course, but I can't possibly care about it in the same way I do my drawings. We don't always write or draw when we should, is the thing. As artists, we should admit this. I draw far more often than your average man, but do I draw a lot? Would my drawing be of note? I've always seen my writing as an important component in my creative process. Many posts are early articulations of half-baked ideas. ¶ I walk to work on basic Toronto streets and pass common folk going about their business. There isn't a glamour to any of it. I don't mean to even compare it to glamour, which for all its negative implications, still resonates with me in a positive way. I just mean that there's a valued normalcy to our city (branding geniuses will loathe Toronto's be-all and end-all instinct). ¶ With Siteway turning 12 next month, I've come to realise a few things. One, you have to tell the people you care about about the things you care about. And two, when you're picking a domain name, always go with your gut.

Labels: Vague

¶ 1:14 AM

When I was in the first grade I can remember a specific day that has never quite left me. It was a dreary Monday morning and I was coerced into wearing a pair of brown slacks by the parental units that were neither comfortable nor remotely close to what other kids were wearing. The very brownness of them depressed me—I know that sounds heavy for someone six years of age—but it's the only word that captures my memory. Specifically: I'm walking up Downs Avenue. I'm looking down and the rain is paining me. Stay with me, this story has a good end. I get to class and things just don't feel right. I never recovered from sleep. I was so anxious about my clothing (I don't think my shirt was much better). The truth is I simply wasn't feeling well. This was the source of my pain: a stomach bug that soon had me vomiting in our in-class bathroom. I think this made me cry, because I remember the blurry vision that comes from tears. I was lucky that my father was working from home that day and I was able to press the reset button. Soon I was back home, in bed, and recovering. I didn't throw up again but the stomach illness was bona fide. And yet, its connection with my mental outlook that day never left me. I connected being sick, the colour brown, and all my anxiety in one big mess of a concept. Cut to 2007 and I'm creating a folder in My Documents entitled Brown Period. I often title my works and ideas long before the meat. It's just my way, I'm sure many of you do the same. Illustrations like this one and this one and this one embody my love for brown. ¶ It's been years since I've avoided brown. The part of that day in 1981 that stays with me is how real and harsh everything felt. How sad I felt that my bad day was getting worse and worse. Until it got better. How good and relaxed I felt once home in bed. It may seem strange to associate a colour into that sort of experience, but it happens. The point, though, of these sorts of associations, is as true then as it is now, even if my feelings have inverted: it matters. It matters that I was wearing a pair of slacks that I hated. It matters that my father was home that day. It matters that it was raining. It matters that it wasn't entirely my brain that was on the fritz. My stomach was, too. And there's relief in all of it. An early cathartic day. Yes I avoided brown for many years after. That was the cost of my experience. The payoff is everything else. For example, the Brown Period, for whatever that is worth. ¶ No illustration this week. Freelance work has taken over my week! It's positive, all, so I'm not complaining and with any luck, I'll have my 9th portrait in Admiration of Benefit ready for Tuesday AM, even if I will be in NYC.

Labels: Brown, Freelancing, Memories, NYC, Vague

¶ 11:12 AM

I'm Kyle Mclachlan. I'm an actor. Now this is an award show I can get behind.

Labels: Hollywood, Vague

¶ 8:04 PM

Some games you play to win, well you lose. Sometimes your dealt, you don't get to choose. Some guns get drawn but you don't need to use them. Some try and die before their troubles began.—Vetiver, I Know No Pardon.

Labels: Lyric, Vague

¶ 5:22 PM

Did you know that you're a lucky man, he asked me, a drunken Ignatius-type. I do came out of my mouth. I knew he was right. He had caught me out, and maybe he was just crazy, but as Pauline and I discussed moments later, there wasn't much false about what had just transpired. ¶ It dawned on me last weekend, as I re-watched Brewster's Millions (1985), that it's critical Montgomery Brewster not tell anyone of his involvement in the will game that sets up the film. I used to think it was just a comedy-of-errors device. They have to think he's crazy to sell the tragedy of his final party. It's only temporarily sad, a false alarm. He believes that in the morning he will have the greater sum to live on for the rest of his life. And yet, there's a sadness in his belief. He's right, though it's not quite knowledge (someone has conned him along the way), but he's necessarily alone since everyone around him thinks he's lost more than just his inheritance. It was my favourite movie as a child and it still holds up. ¶ Number 3/10 in my series of people and ideas I admire went live today. It's a portrait of Søren Kierkegaard. I hope you enjoy it.

Labels: AdmirationOfBenefit, Cinema, Vague

¶ 2:11 PM

There are soul deaths and then there are soul deaths. ¶ Here's something I've been contemplating lately: I've been engaged with my work, and by work I mean the lines I draw, in an unprecedented manner of late. It's partly because I decided one day that this would be a good idea. And as you're all already aware, being a free agent requires the agent take care of sales, marketing, accounting, office and project management, and even janitorial services. So telling yourself to "focus on the work" is not only simple and comforting, it's rewarding. It's investing in better furnaces for HQ, better equipment at the factory, better ships for your fleet. I'm investing in the lifeblood of my industry: drawing. The drawing action itself has become a relaxing enterprise; an experience that is itself enjoyable, and not just because of the results. The results, the lines drawn as it were, are themselves relaxing, if only briefly. Imagine the ink from an industrial inkjet bleeding into your expensive art paper. It only lasts as ink for half a second. Then it becomes part of the paper. That's what I mean by relaxing. Like the final piece that snuggly fits into the puzzle. The easiest piece of all. And yet, it's rigid, in there, the instantiating unit. In any case, some by-products of this focus: a sketchbook that's not half-bad, some Siteway dusting, continued experiments over on flickr, and more steam in the engine. ¶ It is remarkable that there are few men so well employed, so much to their minds, but that a little money or fame would commonly buy them off from their present pursuit. I see advertisements for active young men, as if activity were the whole of a young man's capital. Yet I have been surprised when one has with confidence proposed to me, a grown man, to embark in some enterprise of his, as if I had absolutely nothing to do, my life having been a complete failure hitherto. What a doubtful compliment this is to pay me! As if he had met me half-way across the ocean beating up against the wind, but bound nowhere, and proposed to me to go along with him! If I did, what do you think the underwriters would say? No, no! I am not without employment at this stage of the voyage. To tell the truth, I saw an advertisement for able-bodied seamen, when I was a boy, sauntering in my native port, and as soon as I came of age I embarked.—Henry David Thoreau, from Life Without Principle.

Labels: AdmirationOfBenefit, Clear, FeaturedIllustration, Heroes, Siteway, Vague

¶ 7:51 PM

It's fashionable but I don't mind saying I'm a sucker for the last man on earth story. Even the empty New York sequences in Vanilla Sky were somehow thrilling, if only in dreams. I'm looking forward to seeing I Am Legend this holiday season. It's a version of 1971's Omega Man (both screenplays are based on Richard Matheson's novel, I Am Legend). The last man is the lone man, the first man. The Robinson Crusoe story writ large. ¶ Why don't you be like your friend Henry here. He's got a nice girl. He's settling down now. He's married. Pretty soon he'll have a nice family. And you're still bouncing around from girl to girl.—Tommy's Mother, GoodFellas. ¶ I think the pleasures of living in Toronto outweigh the pains. For me, for now, I'd rather be nowhere else. I love seeing store owners sweeping their front stoop, green grocer's sneaking a quick smoke, and FedEx drivers jumping in and out of their trucks. I walk through Kensington Market almost every day these days. Maybe I'll tire of it, but so far, I still get my kicks. The city can be summarized thusly: proximity to life; access to markets; accelerating movement. If we all struggle, then at least in the city, you don't struggle alone.

Labels: Cinema, FeaturedIllustration, Vague

¶ 12:56 PM

It's been too long since I've taken a day to do some Siteway housekeeping and today was that day. The pulldown menu to that sits second from top on the right column has now been updated to reflect Siteway weekly illustrations from this past spring and summer. In addition, I've updated my long list of an Illustration page. With a new illustration every week I'm going to soon need a simplified way of organizing my portraits here on Siteway. It's satisfying to do this sort of work, however. It's sometimes hard to believe I've been maintaining this site by myself for more than a decade. It's so big now that I sometimes need Google just to find my own illustrations. ¶ Half the time I just don't know. It's the other half I concentrate on. I put the focus on the work. I can only hope the practise translates into better and better visual representations of what is going on between my ears. Not to mention all the stuff I haven't yet drummed up the courage to post. Lots in store, lots in store.

Labels: Future, Siteway, Vague

¶ 4:31 PM

I've spent the evening quite literally downloading stuff from my brain into the computer. It was getting too jammed up in there. I've felt, recently, that I've been carrying around too many half-thoughts, too many plans, too many avenues. Many people, at least in my experience, benefit from this kind of displacement (from mind to world) and I'm no exception. It manifests itself in many ways, depending on the individual and the situation. I've missed out on some fun times this evening but instead I've secured my mental footing. I needed a night to focus purely on thought. ¶ Good night.

Labels: Siteway, Vague

¶ 9:33 PM

Stranded with this bitch called hope. ¶ I think we've all had the experience of losing our appetite. In some cases, this can be the result of over-excitement, and for all the stomach pain this brings, it's not so bad. Losing your appetite from actually sailing in choppy waters, however, is not at all pleasant. Couple this with losing one's nerve, and you're guaranteed to be focused on little else. The day was Saturday. The place, Port Stanley. I wasn't actually sick as I managed to curtail that unpleasantness by way of keeping focused on the horizon. And though I didn't count on losing either my appetite or nerve, losing the latter angered me. It proved impossible to retrieve. We were never in any actual danger, it must be stated, but sailing is both unpredictable and psychological and when you're flailing in your mind, very little can act as remedy. At least for me. Sunday was a different matter. The main difference was the wind. It was much calmer out there. I was also experienced at this point with both my appetite and nerve in tact. If I were Truman and you were watching my Show, at one point you would have caught me sitting on deck, legs overboard, blissed out. Minutes later I was diving off the anchored boat, swimming. It was heavenly as Lake Erie posed convincingly as the Pacific: seductive blue and expansive. Never mind that the sun was also turning in a perfect performance. We all walked away with a significant set of experiences under our belts. ¶ Our buffet and hutch arrived just before these adventures took place. It is not only handsome but also suited perfectly in our humble home. I'll take that pat on the back, even if I'm the one giving it.

Labels: Furniture, Gratitude, Lyric, Vague, WeekendUpdate

¶ 4:30 PM

Pauline buying the chocolate-brown blinds for my office and their eventual installment have represented a huge turning point in my effort to settle back into Toronto. I don't mean to be flip about it: the truth is sometimes banal. Obstacles included nothing out of the ordinary. The very things, at least it seems to me, that help to flesh out the meaning of life chapters in the first place. I've had more than one occassion about which a good look in the mirror was required. We've overcome most, ignored some, and tackled others head-on. This has been very much a summer of preparation and it looks like we'll finally be able to sit back and soak in some rays before the Fall. Ten days off and then a couple of lazy August weeks before I march right up to September, knock on the door, and walk right in. ¶ Freelance news: watch for my illustrations in upcoming issues of Maisonneuve, Goon, and Lürzer's 200 Best Illustrators Worldwide (07/08).

Labels: Freelancing, Vague

¶ 1:04 PM

Pauline celebrated what's known in my group of friends as "birthday week" (def: either as a result of a milestone and/or an imperfect placement in the week, a person in a group of friends has a week or near to a week of sanctioned birthday fun.) She had a blast. I had a blast. Myself in Toronto is on-deck, swinging two bats, and keen on the game. ¶ I was pleased with my Mike Myers illustration on the weekend, although I wonder if I could have been kinder. Ah, such is nature of reflection. It was a great layout and, and I liked how the green turned out so nice and May-like. ¶ Speaking of May-like, as I write this I can feel the warm and comforting breeze on the right side of my body and it's having a curing effect. Not that I need a cure. I've been feeling good for a few days now. The anti-Samson, I seem to gain strength from a Number 1 grade haircut as spring comes to Canada. More importantly my body seems to have finally defeated the chest cold that had overstayed its welcome.

Labels: Family, NationalPost, Toronto, Vague

¶ 11:14 PM

Cherry blossom girl... ¶ Okay so we're in week two of Coastalmatic's short life. You can check the latest animation here and last week's here. ¶ A Siteway featured illustration of Quentin Tarantino was in the National Post last week. You can see a photograph of it here. ¶ Quietly reflecting on our extenda-weekend in Toronto reveals warm emotions and while writing this way can get uncomfortable, I will say that I had some rare quiet moments with many of those close to me and I'm extremely grateful for them. ¶ If you win some, and you lose some, then count me in. ¶ Just quickly in closing: I know I'm taking on another lofty who-cares-right-now experiment with Coastalmatic, and I know it's all a little vague. Especially the part about how all the sites are related. But there's a lot I've invested in these areas of my life and I'm serious about their full and complete development. Vagueness must scent character, and not dolls, after all.

Labels: Clear, Coastalmatic, Gratitude, NationalPost, SitewayWorld, Vague

¶ 12:43 AM

Maybe you, like me, dismissed Freaks & Geeks as just another good-quality but low-rated and early-cancelled television tragedy. "Whatever," you may have thought. Don't make this mistake any longer. Check out this show. I just watched the pilot and can't remember enjoying this genre as much since perhaps even the early Wonder Years. The truthful notes are even sharper. In fact, I'm going to watch the pilot again. Hint hint, I'll be drawing something from Freaks... very soon. It's also a good counterpoint to Entourage which I'm incredibly pleased is broadcasting again. In fact, I've been drawing Entourage actors and characters all week in the hopes of cobbling something together. Oh, and one more thing. I was finally pursuaded to check out Freaks & Geeks by my new favourite podcast. NPR: Movies is downloaded onto my still-loving-it Dell lappy and I listen every Monday morning. This is a high-quality state-of-the-radio-arts podcast. Check it out.

Labels: TV, Vague

¶ 12:09 AM

Needle prick my spruce root / Dear little hemlock shoot / Make me stay sharp and keen, evergreen. ¶ As I write this I'm sipping a boxed merlot from a plastic wine cup, listening to Pauline's iPod on the speakers Aird gave me. As I glance to my left, I see her. She is standing on a chair and painting onto her fabric canvas. Through her illuminates the facade of a dilapidated building. The merlot is nice—don't let my winking description fool you—I discovered Three Thieves Bandit a few months ago. One thing I am not a snob about is next-generation packaging. Bring it on, I say. ¶ Sitting in Pauline's studio reminds me of nights in my father's Dalhousie office, circa 1985. I don't remember if I was there alone, or with my brothers, or if it was for a short time, or a long time. I do remember relishing it: the eggshell rotary phone with the red light (always wanted one of those), the calendar on the desk, and all the other slight but crucial differences between this office and the one at home. The smell of books coupled with stale coffee and radiator. The distinction was real. To me what's interesting about this memory is not the uniqueness of it. Not only does every professor's child have memories like this, but my bet is pretty much most of my peers do. What's interesting is that for the longest time, say my teens and early twenties, I fabricated a different office aspiration. Lush grey carpeting and the six-going-on-seven figure view. But that was merely a blip. I still aspire, mind you. Now my dream is to own a building of offices, of offices inside offices. Each slightly different but all with bulletin boards and books and pens and portraits.

Labels: Lyric, Vague

¶ 7:28 PM

I had an illustration in today's National Post (AL2) of Norah Jones. I've been illustrating for the Arts & Life section on a semi-regular basis since last May. I've been posting photographs of my illustrations that have appeared in the Post to my flickr account. You can check it out at thepost.siteway.com. ¶ I've decided to pull the plug on my CafePress store. I could probably articulate the reasons why but I think I'll just let time do the explaining. Right now the only place you can purchase Siteway related stuff is through my online store, Siteway Select. Oh, and my sister brand, Tonicville, has a store over at Prickie you can check out. ¶ We're hope hope going to NYC in late February. Now's the time to send me suggestions on where to eat, drink, and be merry. I've already set up one client meeting and I'm hoping to drop off my portfolio at the Esquire and Rolling Stone offices. ¶ And finally I want to say that the new Siteway site is coming along very well, thank you, and I'll be posting my launch date any day now. Stay tuned, illustration and vague-talk lovers, we've just finished the pre-dinner drinks. With any luck, we've got a full dinner ahead to look forward to. ¶ Cheers for the nod, Jason.

Labels: NationalPost, NYC, SitewaySelect, SitewayWorld, Vague

¶ 8:43 PM

Genghis Kahn, illustrated with spectacles, in today's National Post. Arts & Life section. ¶ This is my 600th blog post to Siteway! ¶ What does your Toronto include? That's what Photojunkie wants to know, and he also wants to take your picture. I'm part of Rannie's latest project, and I thought that some of my readers might be interested as well. Check it out. ¶ We had a great yard sale on the weekend. Got rid of a tonne of excess, and met some interesting folks to boot. It was the small gentleman who read the back of all my VHS films that made me smile the most. And then there was the dude on his bike with "thousands" of video tapes who wanted to know if we had "software, you know what I mean" for sale. And finally, there was a gentle lady who couldn't afford Pauline's 25 cent frames. She seemed genuinely happy when we gave them to her at the end of the day for the low low price of 0 cents.

Labels: NationalPost, SitewayWorld, Toronto, Vague

¶ 11:01 AM

Phew. Last week was unquestionably my busiest since I moved into the freelance arena. It felt good this weekend to unwind out of town. I let myself think about other things and it was a nice change. I don't think I'm stressed, but I certainly did have to remind myself to relax and slink back in my chair. I did. Ended up at the Runt Club on Friday night where we demolished several pitchers of beer as the conversation flowed and flowed. It was so much fun. I love the Runt Club, that much you can say about me with certainty. I had the pasta architect: penne, alfredo, grilled chicken and shrimp. ¶ More sensual delights awaited us: spicy jambalaya, one of the best table wines I've ever had (EastDell Estates Black Cab VQA), more cold beer, popcorn, iced tea, and on Sunday evening, a home-made bacon cheeseburger. ¶ My thoughts were varied. At one point I traced my excitement for the unfolding world with the day I saw Back to the Future at the Oxford. I'd already seen the greatness of Ghostbusters and realised that the world had the potential to contain so many good things! It was a hyperbolic thought. But those thoughts gave me great comfort. I wonder: how many people my age have a similar mental landscape?

Labels: Cinema, Freelancing, Londontown, Vague, Wine

¶ 11:41 PM

I'm celebrating a birthday soon. Some thoughts. ¶ My twenties were more complicated than I had thought they would be. I had a vision, I think now it was both premature and a little incoherent, that in your twenties you'd profit from life at no cost. Young enough to do what you wanted and yet old enough to make some real money, meet some amazing women, and travel (actually and metaphorically) whenever the spirit needed fuel. Though ironically this is how I'll ultimately remember my twenties, I didn't bank on the early heartache, the constant questioning, the self-inflicted existential trials, the anxiety, and the impossible-to-avoid-posturing. Only now (knowing even less) do I appreciate the fruits of quiet confidence. Quiet confidence born out of all that God-damned confusion. It started to dawn on me about a year ago (birthday time!) that I spent a great deal of time after university not enjoying life fully. Isn't that strange? It is strange because I have an amazing family and one of the best groups of friends anyone could ever ask for. I know a lot of people say this but keep in mind that not everyone says this. I'm lucky. But in my pea-brain I was too aware of what other's were thinking or not thinking, too paralyzed by a vision to see what I actually had, and too lacking in life experience. But, alas, I don't think there is any other way. I still have what I've been calling vision but now it's a nuanced vision that feeds off my actual experience, my tangible happiness, and my settled soul. ¶ Early on with Pauline I felt that, while we have very distinct styles and approaches, we rested very well together. I took great comfort in that because it meant that ultimately, when the fast-talking opinions and perspectives were finished for a day, we could return to our bedrock. We can do this for a myriad of personal reasons. Regardless, it's a comfort that has had an untold positive influence on my entire life for, no matter what unfolds, ever. ¶ Tomorrow gives me an electric feeling that I launch ever forward: to new experiences, evolving friendships, creative and professional satisfaction, and, of course, resting easy with herself. ¶ Free advice, worth every cent, in no particular order. Don't run for a subway train. Put yourself in someone's shoes, not just when you're reflecting, but in the moment. Order what you think the chef likes to cook. Enjoy what you have. If you're witty, keep it up. If you're not, listen for it. Knowing is about a tenth of the battle. Meaning is everywhere, be a good editor. And last, but not least, try at least one new food item every year.

Labels: Vague

¶ 11:01 AM

You're so cute when you're slurring your speech / But they're closing the bar and they want us to leave. ¶ It was about the time when I really started to get going with writing on Siteway that I introduced myself to writings of Carlos Castaneda. The book in question, Journey to Ixtlan, was in my possesion but I forget how I came to own it. Reading it for the first time resembled re-reading something familiar and yet it was a trip to know it was completely novel. I loved the structure, the dualism, the humour, and especially the broad strokes. It's a writing style that I'm still drawn to but like many things in art, I'm mostly disappointed by. I don't even wish to make comparisons but let me just say that other popular philosophy books have left me underwhelmed, or, at least, have not hit me when I was ready or able for them. So it was with some great anticipation that I awaited a friend's gift to my fiancee for her birthday as it would provide me an opportunity to re-read it (again) since my copy had mysteriously disappeared. It's my Catcher in the Rye. On the subway this morning I was reading the beginning pages and I could feel the empathy within me rise. As I stepped off the train at Yonge station a kind-eyed relaxed brown-skinned gentleman looked up to me and said, "that book is incredible." I told him that I agreed and then he responded, "all his books are incredible." I smiled back at him and exited his world forever. I'm inclined to think that we both thought about the spiritworld for the rest of the morning. ¶ National Post illustration number three in tomorrow's paper: Mordecai Richler.

Labels: Lyric, Musings, NationalPost, Vague

¶ 1:35 PM

Things have been quite busy but I wanted to take a quick moment to point out that I'm still very much enjoying this spring and that my (albeit temporary) new co-workers are a fantastic bunch of people. I've got a new illustration in tomorrow's National Post. It's of Ayn Rand smoking a cigarette. ¶ I also wanted to send a traditionally vague but meaningful sentence to people close to me. All your support has been appreciated of late, especially in the details, and I hope that I've been able to be that kind of friend to you at some point. No, nothing terrible has happened to me, it's just that I've been in an appreciative mood lately. It's 10:47pm and I'm off to sleep in my new room. Good night, and God speed.

Labels: Freelancing, NationalPost, Vague

¶ 10:45 PM

Read Part 1.1 and then Part 1.2

Part 1.3
Avery started to jog through Victoria station. He was much hungrier than he had previously thought. The desire for a smoke had subsided, and instead he found himself in the Whistlestop Food & Wine looking for a sandwich to wolf down. Bacon, lettuce, and tomato. Excellent. He grabbed a bag of salted Walker's crisps and a plastic bottle of Lucozade to wash it all down. Meanwhile, Gus Moustachio was sweeping up near the WHSmith. Sometimes known as Gassy Moustachio to his workmates, it was not an ironic nickname. A curly moustache did drape his upper lip and, against employee policy, a pair of headphones rested on his head. Nobody complained because Gus was always keen to work and never complained. The tapes on his walkmen were audiobooks (novels) and Gus found them relaxing. His logic was simple: the work wasn't hard, the hours were long, and boredom was a constant threat. Gus would essentially meditate and travel the globe while all the while he was not giving his union boss any headaches. And because he kept to himself, his co-workers had no fuel with which to entangle him. On this particular day, though, Gus was struggling with the logical conclusion of his lifestyle. His mind could wander but his body was a prisoner to his financial poverty and all of a sudden it depressed him. But, in a way typical of Moustachio, he turned this depressing thought into a challenge. Maybe he could leave. He worked in a train station, after all.
 
Avery was finished his sandwich (which was excellent) in under five minutes. He wiped his lips with his knuckles, kissed the bottle of Lucozade, emptying it of all liquid, and discarded his refuse. The crisps turned out to be wishful thinking, but he was happy to have a snack saved for later. Hands on hips, outside on Buckingham Palace Road, it was now time for that cigarette he'd been craving. He took his Guardian, ripped out the wanted ad, left the rest of the paper on a park bench, took out his packet of Marlboro Lights, and and lit a smoke. It was time to see what this artist had in mind.

Labels: AveryHutch, Fiction, UK, Vague

¶ 2:30 PM

Ladies and germs, my cultural hero of 2006, Mister Karl Pilkington. Roll over his mouth, alright. ¶ New Avery Hutch episode coming soon.

Labels: FeaturedIllustration, Vague

¶ 12:32 AM

For a day that ended with a warm hug and a pleastant boozy sleep, it started out as pure horror. The minute Art woke up on that day his stomach was tied up in a knot so large that it seemed simply to replace his stomach. The sad reality was that Art had woke up this way for months now. It had a familiar pattern. He'd try desperately to fall asleep (not a good start), would move to punching his pillow, and then eventually he'd simply grab a t-shirt and squeeze it in his right fist until sleep did its work. Or at least tried to. The dream train was blowing through Art's mind so loudly that sleep always seemed a distant second. The nightmarish images of distorted faces, superloud yelling, bites, and of course, the cackle of her laughter. The sun was bright on this morning, and Art kidded to himself that things might be looking up. He was right, but he'd said this on countless occasions before. And on all of those occassions he was wrong. Unhinged. Manic. The sort of ride that if you aren't on it, you don't understand it. The kind of ride where, at the end, you get such a good picture of yourself that religious thoughts squat the brain. And so when he bumped into a vision later that night, a vision he'd met before at a bus stop, she saw him on that day and not the days previous. She saw three important things: the knot, the sunshine, and a promise. His boozy sleep was solo, but the t-shirt was on the floor and the dream he didn't remember had something to do with soda pop and french fries. The warm hug moved to his lips and if you were looking at Art that night, you'd almost see his eyes smiling behind his closed lids.

Labels: Fiction, Vague

¶ 3:57 PM

For the longest time I've been thinking about role models. And when I write a line like that what I mean is that I've been thinking about it since I can remember anything. I've been thinking about them not only insofar as my role models are concerned, but also just as a concept. I find the people that people look up to a fascinating notion. For example, a lot of people look up to members of their family. While others look up to people they don't even know. Still others look up to FICTIONAL persons. I like this landscape. It's interesting to see how some people like knowing the person they look up to because it reveals part of their hand: you have even chances at learning from your hero. On the flipside, of course, NOT knowing your hero moves beyond these sorts of details. You can learn from you hero ANYHOW because, well, they're either a legend or a genius or a prophet. And on the second flipside, you have the fictional heroes. In many ways, I aspire to having heroes that are fictional. At least then you won't be held accountable for their actions. ¶ Of course in this post I'm being overly emphatic. I think it's terrific that we hold people in high regard. I don't care if you know them or not, I'm just playing with an idea in the paragraph preceding. Ultimately I just love hearing people talk about other people.

Labels: Heroes, Musings, Vague

¶ 12:00 AM

Let me level with you, dear reader. I'm struggling rather dramatically with quitting smoking. I'm struggling for at least two reasons: because I've always been a moderate smoker and because I'm a romantic. The former is a struggle because I don't have an obsessive personality. I meander along with various interests and habits and vices and never burrow down to the limit. The latter, tied into my associative memory and flights of fancy, dispose me to some genuinely positive memories. Like smoking for the first time with high-school buddies, smoking in the car on road trips, camping, winter... the list goes on. But there are a tonne of negative associations as well. Like point blank 80% of cigarettes I've smoked have been lackluster experiences. The noxious fumes and lingering smell. The (albeit marginal) dependance. And the definite, in my view, shortening of natural life. I'm crossing over into a new phase of my life and I'm determined to make the right choices. But I'm only a man and my to-date inability to quit has me really grasping. I feel guilt, weakness, and defensiveness. I write this not to carve out a special place for myself in the smoking sphere, because basically I think what I'm feeling is fairly universal. In fact I write it for that reason and, because, I think writing about it will help with the mental gymnastics I alluded to. ¶ In any case, I am still committed to finishing up with cigarettes. I'll do this by re-formulating my romanticism into the fictional world. I'll write about characters that smoke, for sure, and I'll continue to draw cigarettes in my portraits. But what I won't do is actually light up. ¶ I don't regret starting. It was part of my young adult life. It inspired me, it kept me in check, and it was fucking fun. But the best-before date on that personal chapter has long since past and it's time to move on. It's called the law of diminishing marginal returns. ¶ Pauline and I drove over to Poor John's last night to hang up some art. John did most of the work. We're doing a double-show there for the month of March. I've got Clint Eastwood Lit as well as three King size prints hanging (Depp, Kubrick, and Hitchcock) and Pauline has three of her oils on the wall, including her most recent effort which took about two years to complete. She even worked on it when we went to Sundridge this past summer. Poor John's is located at 1610 Queen St. West and is worth a visit anyway. ¶ It's March, compadres! Dave Chappelle's Block Party. St. Patrick's. Siteway Select. Siteway Sirens. Let's hear it for rolling with the punches, in general.

Labels: Clear, Vague

¶ 12:15 PM

The other night I was trying to think of something to write on Siteway and that's when I realised something wasn't right. Usually, I think about what I'm going to write about in the same way that I treat oxygen. If I can't breathe this second, I'll breathe in the next. Ideas were everywhere. But the other night it dawned on me that my Siteway voice was drying up. Prognosis uncertain. Tonight I read about Jason Kottke's decision to stop his micropayment experiment. For those of you not familiar with Kottke's earlier decision, in a nutshell he decided to quit his regular job to take blogging seriously enough to devote his entire labour towards it. He decided to do this via a public support initiative in a very similar way that a public broadcaster might. I was a supporter, it should be noted. I'm not entirely sure what to think. I'm deeply saddened by this news*. When I first read his post, I instinctively thought of writing to him directly, if only to find some answers. Please pardon the hyperbole, I know it's hard to read, but you have to understand that it was his blog which inspired this one. I'm sure we haven't seen the end of Kottke, but a part of me brushed up against that eventual inevitability tonight. *I should note that I'm not saddened by the decision per se, but that it wasn't a smashing success that included things like growth for Jason. I thought it would be. ¶ The voice is drying but not dry. There's more where this came from.

Labels: Siteway, Vague

¶ 12:25 AM