Summer

And in that moment, he came to terms with the fact that she wasn't going to stay...

The truth was that he had patiently awaited her arrival for months. It had been a long, grueling winter and his heart was cold. She took him by the hand and asked him to sit with her. All she ever wanted was his company. As the days passed his heart melted and so did his troubles. They formed a small pool on the ground around his feet that followed him wherever he went. 

Every morning he would wake up and whisper ever so gently, "I will enjoy you." and his words tickled her heart. She was radiant. As they sat, day after day, she would remind him that his feet were wet but he could not see. She shone so brightly that it blinded him. Bewildered he would repeat, “I will enjoy you.”

Little by little as the days got long and the nights hot he began to take her for granted. Every morning he would wake a little bit later than the day before and he would not say a word to her. On some days he would complain that she was shining too brightly and that she had stayed too long. He was bitter and cold but she still welcomed him with her warmth. One day, he did not get out of bed at all. She sat and waited for him for hours on end but he did not come. He remained absent the next day and the next. Sometimes it takes that long to dry your feet. 

As he lay in bed, a flood of memories came in waves of their time together. He thought of how loyal she had been to him and how loyal she would always be. She was indeed good company but she could never dry his feet. She was scheduled to leave soon. When one visits they do just that and nothing more. And in that moment, he came to terms with the fact that she wasn't going to stay. 

As he counted down the days, he would get up a little bit earlier than usual and whisper ever so firmly "I have enjoyed you." A slight breeze carried his words to the rising sun. He would not see her until she returned again. On the day she left she rode the wind’s current and whispered back, “I’ll see you soon." Summer left and autumn knocked on his door. Autumn took him by the hand and asked him if they could sit together.

KNOCK KNOCK

I don't know what it is about the door.
There's something about the way it opens and closes always in onomatopoeia.
It’s not like it’s over animated in anyway and if so, only in scale. It’s a moment of transition- a threshold from one chapter to the next.

I remember the exact moment when I read DO NOT ENTER on your door. It was typed in bold letters (probably in Helvetica.) I had mistaken it for art before I understood its meaning by definition. I tried the knob but It was locked to further enforce its stance. I panicked. Suddenly the door that always proposed a window of opportunity or a transition to new and better experiences became a dead end, a bump in the road and a pain in my heart.
So I’m jiggling the knob- coaxing it to unlock. I shake it like an Etch-a-sketch praying that the door will dissolve in front of me. I need a key or secret password and since I don’t have either of those I realize I’m royally screwed. It’s one of those moments when it starts to rain indoors and before you realize the absurdity of the situation, you close your eyes and hope that your imagination is simply soaring ahead of you.
I go over my options once again and I remember that the only gentleman-like thing to do in a moment like this is to knock.

So now I’m here, at your door in contemplation and in metaphor.

Hello Dolly

Dolly acts a soundtrack on a quest to find the love.
Mama says there’ll be days like this and Baby June says to lay in bed with metaphor. Embracing both concepts, a mix of country, folk and soul, let your imagination run wild.

Imagine a city built of your very own hopes and dreams, and successes and failures. Think outside of what you know as architecture. In fact, think Seussian! How does a failure to fly look on Mulberry Street just outside of your downtown? How does a promotion at work play with your skyline? How does a truffula tree look beside an evergreen?
Here, the sun always shines and the rain always falls. It’s a place where people stop to talk to at least one stranger a day and where parks and picnics are plentiful. A place where overbearing towers mope in contrast to cutester, Ivory cladded houses all washed in sepia.
This is a world frozen in the past captured on a faded Polaroid always struggling to enter the present and yearning for a future. As you let this conceptualized world enter your atmosphere it begins to crumble. How does a city survive when you yourself have stopped dreaming and have lost hope? How does a city thrive when your failures outweigh your successes? And how do we please the people with fickle weather and dismal browns?
Perhaps you were never meant to be an urban planner and by no means will he ever create a world in 6 days. You’re no Alsop or Gehry and you may be disowned if you claimed to be the G O D. (It’s best to leave it up to the professionals.) But as this world continues to crumble, take time to smirk, if only to yourself, for one day, your hope will be ample and your dreams lucid. Until then, don’t be afraid to dream in Sepia. You’ve gotta start somewhere before you spin a colour wheel. It’s not the end of a world we’ve dreamed up together; it’s merely the beginning.

Tic Toc nouveau

I have to work: tomorrow.
I have an exam :tomorrow...
aqua vitae: tomorrow!!!!!!!!!

Although there is a light at the end of the tunnel (no matter how blurry it will end up) I can't help but get into this time warp and think: "Damn, I shoulda been a house-husband"

In my procrastination, I see great images like these: and I remember why I'm going to be a designer. It's all about the relationships we share: how two or more objects or ideas marry and divorce. It's about sitting at a table for two or sharing a picnic with the everyone on the block. It's about time and it's about direction.
I think at this point I'm beginning to get a sense of what I like, what I'm going to do and what styles I will put my signature on. as a designer. (one day) All I have to do is find title for it...:

Tomorrow .

It was just a dream some of us had

I got my laptop back.
It's almost like brand new but just the same as when it left me (a little bit battered and bruised but simply made for me). It feels good to feel the keys with every word I type.

Anyway, I'm rebuilding my music collection for what seems like the 20th time since me and this thing called "the virus" became frenemies. Although I curse the world everytime this happens, I can't help but be thankful. Each time my musical taste and style is reborn. I'm basking in the sweets sounds of Joni Mitchell, Journey, Kings of Leon and Whitney (before Bobby) just to name a few. My I pod has never been so alive and my ears have never been so happy. I think if you happen to spot me on the toronto streets you may see light shining out of my ears. They beem with glee as I saunter through the autumn leaves.

I think I truly fell in love with Joni upon one instance the I imagine will lurk my mind for the next while. If I ever write an autobiography this particular story may just enter it. And if you know me, you'll be overcome with empathy.



" So I'm walking to my house from school. I forgot some crucial component needed for the work I was doing in the studio. More than mustard, I HATE when I forget things. (that's A LOT) Anyway, I'm walking on the sidewalk and I come face to face with a gust of wind. In the battle there is a casualty. My scarf flies into my face rendering my eyes useless. In panic I try to enable my vision but in this struggle I drop my bag. I'm flustered. I have my belongings displayed on the sidewalk and I imagine looking like such a tool to the outside world. As I bend down to assess the situation, I note all of the people who are walking by me. At the moment I remembered my Grade One teacher Mrs S saying that it was important to be kind to one another, to help others when they needed help and to share our scissors. Here in the city, I am invisible and no one has learned the lessons I have learned so long ago. No one stops to help, no one smiles at each other. We are zombies trying to get from point A to point B. I got out of my own head for a moment as i picked up my belongings and Joni's voice echoed. "Oh it gets so lonely when you're walking and the streets are full of strangers" I couldn't find better words to describe the scene. It was lonely. It was cold. It was beautiful. It was rhyme. "

stay warm,

JB

Your knees

If your knees could talk I bet they'd have a lot to say.
They would talk about their close relationship with the floor as a toddler
And the metamorphosis of seeing the light when you learned how to walk.
They would rant about the wars they lost with each fall, and cringe about every scar left behind.
They'd tell you that they are indeed fragile and can't be twisted any which way.
They'd tell you to moisturize often.
They would talk of all the other knees they had met in moments of passion and how they became cartographers in your sheets.
They'd whisper the guilt they felt upon committing to more than one pair of knees and buckle at the fear of being alone.
They'd spell out the importance of crutches in old age and the value in another pair of knees to keep them company.
They'd tell you how important it is to forgive
and they'd kiss at the thought of true love.

My knees are talking and they told me to spread the message.

Fading Stars & Birthdays

Oh you and your opinions- always so eager to push them out into the world.I just watch them sizzle in the sunlight or feed it into my body like sour milk.
No one actually likes sour milk, but if one were to drink it, they'd probably have a good story to tell about how that particular event came to pass. Perhaps it was a bet or a dare... or to prove their worth. Me, I'm worth more then I can spare. But I'm doing my best as a fading star.

I've walked so many miles in these shoes and it's always such a shame to have to say goodbye. Yesterday at work, I discovered a hole in these bad boys resulting in a resounding hole in my heart. It's like rollerblading on a freshly paved road for miles only to have this sudden interruption of a small pebble. I suppose all things come to an end. "Flames to dust, lovers to friends, good shoes to garbage?" Rest in Peace.

Despite the ever growing whole in my heart, I did have a pretty stellar week (with a few bumps here and there) I'll begin with the birthday festivities. It's always a grand occasion when one can finally put a fake to rest. I'm officially as legal as I care to be! There's nothing like sentimental gifts, good company and MAIL to celebrate a birth.

Of course the festivities never stop as I showered myself with excellent additions to my wardrobe. Feast your eyes on my amazing new finds:



Shoulder Pads for days. Gah!

This is a stick up (stick up)

The maze will lead you right to the beginnig.

Walking in sunshine all summer long.

Rain Clouds and Egos

It's raining again today.
I wasn't too sure if this was a true fact upon waking up this morning.
You see, there's this black cloud over my head and it's raining hard. I thought I'd try to outsmart it by running in circles or doing zig zags down my corridor, but, it anticipated my every move.
I even continued into the shower, thinking this cloud would take a smoke break or something and let me enjoy a relaxing shower, but No-way-jose. The cloud continued to rain down even harder, fucking up the water temperature. In that moment I rememberd how mama said there'd be days just like this... she just never taught me how to deal.
I've been looking through some old note books and this bad boy was scrawled in my worst lettering:

are we ever really prepared? Doubt it, but w/e

On days like these I like to stay in bed, do some reading/ writing, and catch up on my perez. I can't get enough. Anyway, for a moment or two, the sun appeared when I saw this Amazing new video from that chick: Sasah Feirce! or is this one Beyonce? Either way, I totally dig the tune and all the popping and locking she's briging into my life. I've pretty much had this video on repeat. It's so tough.

Ego (Official Video) HQ
by Le-Tour-2Lor

Continuing my Beyonce Binge, I'm in love with this coat. I've had this picture saved on my computer in hope that if i wish for it everyday it'll drop out of the sky and into my arms. Beyonce pulls this MJ inspired look off better than budding fashion icon Rihanna and that's saying something- fucking Diva.

Just Beyond the Tree.

You know, everyone's trying to get to wonderland and looking in all the wrong places. Maybe we shouldn't even be looking for physical places at all. Maybe wonderland is a state of being rendered by our actions:
The heart races as you sip wine and dine with beautiful people, and in that moment you consider that if your life were a movie, that particular scene would be the opening credits as "baby love" hums ever so softly from the stereo system. You go for excellent walks on warm summer nights and are amazed by all the world has to offer like the bark of an old tree and the sight of pink tulips. That's what wonderland is all about. Alice had it all wrong.

I can’t believe I’m doing this…

Ok, I’ve given in. Once upon a time I thought I was oh so original and refreshing, but I’m finally ok with admitting that I’m just like everyone else. I’m an avid slave to Myspace and Ef book and now I’m here blogging, claiming that the world is a tad more interesting through my eyes. I won’t lie to you. It’s probably not, but I’m sure you’ll manage to be entertained by my crazy antics and commentary on the simple things like eating out, impeccable style and why everyday should be a musical (for serious).
Speaking of musicals, I’m heading to London (ON) to see my Braj in Dreamgirls tomorrow. I’m thinking this will be an epic outing. Henry Krieger is pretty much a musical genius.