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Showing posts from June, 2014

ho ho red crow

My brother Jon (second-last of four brothers, second-youngest of seven kids total, minor anger-management issues) occasionally sends me digital drawings that he's done . I like this one a lot; it's a bird, it's red, it's vaguely menacing. If you'd like to watch me sort through yet another pile of Oona art, go here .

details

Some details of things done lately , if only to remind myself that I've been productive, as summer wants to sap those ideas away. 

what if they gave a parade but it didn't make a sound?

I heard something about an election campaign going on in Ontario. That there's an election coming up. Like, right away. Something. Three choices and one is embarassed and one is delusional and one is confused. Something about gas plants being bad and firing whole cities worth of civil servants and a big ship that is slowly sinking. Something. I know I voted in an advance poll. Or at least, some old people made me go behind a little paper screen for awhile. Whistling show tunes. I heard something about a Stanley Cup thing, too. Or at least, some kind of hockey thing except it was all Americans and all the games were in big cities and in places where nobody really cares about hockey and isn't it June right now? Or did I take too many muscle relaxants again?  What if they gave an election and no one voted? What if they played a hockey game and no one cared who won?  C says it wouldn't matter if a sizable chunk of the electorate came out and spoiled their ballot

when do i get all the money again?

did you hear how they said my name? ; mixed media on canvas, 8 x 8 x 1.5 inches. *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *      The poet Ariel Gordon tapped me for this internet meme called A Few Questions About Writing . FINE. I CAN BE HELPFUL. The questions and answers follow. What am I working on? How dare you. I didn't come here for this. I didn't pick up the phone and then set it down on the counter without saying anything while I made myself a peanut butter sandwich (peanut butter plus butter, which I know most people find disturbing) before realizing that the phone wasn't even plugged in. That this is an internet meme. So the chain of evidence is largely email. Or rather, exclusively email. If you can call the emails you get through Facebook true emails. Like some uncle who has to touch every envelope before it goes into your mail box. An uncle who never tells you what he's really thinking, and always wears a hood. And lives under your st