Headvoice

Retro-Fit

I took this photo yesterday, but feel the need to publish it today.

See that sunlight? The beams hitting the dog in the nose and the chair in the back... slight but convincing.

Surrounded by the easy way out and the fog of wartime propaganda, it is probably good to look towards our self defined inner truths, even if that sounds like a Madonna self help video title from 2005.

Detach yourself until the inner voice speaks. Reveal what is pertinent and shy away from self-aggrandizement.

The truth is tortured and too undefined for me now. I am trying to figure it out every day. And, if I post one more freaking dog picture I am so officially a crusty loser. Is www.crustyloser.com available? Yes it is!

Prickly

Here I sit at my desk at work... blogging whilst I have at least a million things to do that would classify as productive. Maybe that is a problem in and of itself.

Photo Op

Trying to avert our eyes from the endlessly depressing war coverage yesterday, we drove to a camera shop nearby. I was looking to add an external flash to the digital camera I received for Christmas... and there was two candidates. Of course I had to have the expensive one... and then had to return later and buy a new bag to accommodate the additional hardware.

Off to walk the dog... or perform canine ambulation as we like to call it in our house. The camera is around my neck like an anxious Japanese tourist arriving at the Grand Canyon, but what the hell do I expect to find as photo worthy here? I am in a concrete gray suburb of Toronto, just now thawing out from months of bitter snowy winter. There are no blooming flowers yet.

But then there are the sinewy bare branches reaching skyward on the edge of the park. Shot #1.

As we wind our way back across the park walkway I am thinking how most of the shots are crappy... there really isn't much to shoot and my hands are freezing in the chilly wind. But suddenly there it is on the edge of the path, making me smile immediately. Someone has pushed a ratty old office chair into the park... and left it. #2.

So there I have my second shot of the day. But what about the flash? Oh yes... time to annoy the significant other!

Doesn't he look thrilled to have his own paparazzi in house? Well, at least the flash works well. #3 and out.

Call me Tippi Hedren

The thaw has turned into a primordial spring, but just barely, as leftover micro glaciers still linger in the backyard...with the melting layer of last fall's detritus steadily blowing off into the current breezes. But those winds have regrettably brought back the screeching black birds that have made our pool and patio area into a suburban hell summer stock version of "The Birds".

There have to be thirty of them at least. And the nest building has already reached a frenzied pitch. If I saw a large bird actually carrying a 2' x4' wearing a Home Depot apron in the tree branches tomorrow morning, it wouldn't surprise me all that much. The Swiss Family Robinson have nothing on these aviary ambassadors from hell. I actually now believe they are building elaborate multi-level designer apartments in the scraggly pine tree on the edge of our yard.

Very soon will come the poop. At least I think it is the poop. What is it really? Well, it looks like some strange combination of fried squid and something a deer would throw up. It is gross... and considering the energy that the nesting hellions are displaying I am fearful of a too bountiful spring.

Which leads us to drowning chicks in the pool... as we experienced at least six last spring... and also many eggs dropping out of nests. And much poop. Riches of poops. That is what it is. Poop-a-rama. Poop-a-delic.

What have I learned?

The answer is easy.

Spring is mostly loud poop that you have to wash away. Class dismissed.

Remote Control

Why is it this way? War and strife.

Time to honestly appreciate what you have...

Sunday with Actual Sun

Amazing what some sun and temperatures substantially above the freezing mark will do... here.

During the two years that I traveled back and forth from New York to Toronto, I noticed that the local populace, especially men, would start wearing shorts and sandals at the first sign of spring. Now I know all too well what the real deal is... after living in a deep freeze for months. The massive glacier in the front yard is starting to melt Get out the speedo!

Oh sorry... that was all over in 1981. I can only hope there is no photographic evidence.

And, as if the war channel wasn't compelling enough, we now have this strange pnuemonia---right here in Toronto. Will it be thongs and gas masks combining to make a modern fashion statement on Yonge Street this week? I will let you know.

What is success?

It isn't what you think on the first take. I will bet on that.

It is connecting people. It is building consensus on one hand and moving definitively on the other.

It is making you an important decision maker that precipitates moving forward. It is building a community. It is participating. It is donating. It is about giving ultimately... and we do this all too infrequently. I am afraid it will get worse considering the state of international affairs.

Can I just get silly? Can I dance till last call again? Can I discern my abs from my flabs?

I want to get angry. It makes me sure I have a pulse. Bring on an angry spring... The thaw will be a rush, eh?

Chubby Chased

At work... deciding that not blogging enough is a bad thing. Or at least bad enough to get myself motivated to do more writing, even if I have to bribe myself by attaching photography to the mix.

But how many pictures of frozen landscapes and lounging canines are acceptable? I have reached the limit by now—surely.

Change of subject to "Father", who has to this point been sorely overlooked as a topic for posting. He is both an enigma and transparent as a persona. But then the reason he seems to be someone I want to write about... is because so am I. My sight gathers on him... as it is my future reflected in the experiences of his present life.

He visited the doctor yesterday, and the Drudge Report headline summary would be "Gained 10 Pounds Between Visits --- Doc Yells". He has almost completely stopped drinking as his one glass of red wine every month is what I breath in during the average working week. But the seemingly endless winter... and lack of physical work has bitch slapped ten pounds on him.

Time for a father and son diet plan... with a liposuction upsell.

Blogged and Gagged

Here is my significant other. I wish words came as easily as photographs these days but they don't for me. Now I want to frame everything... and play with light and found imagery. My long repressed and mordantly quiet art appreciation student is crying forlornly in the after hours lobby of my life. He is waiting for the appointment that hasn't happened for 20 years or so...

The wonderfully compelling thing about reading blogs is the realization that so many folks write so well. Especially people like him. His relatively recent post about his family and the Christmas holiday stands as one of the best blog entries of 2002, in my humble opinion. And I was a 'bloggin in 1994 when we had to walk ten miles in the snow to post an entry. None of this fancy audio stuff...

My time is too internet saturated to begin with... maybe if I didn't work in the business I would be more inclined to work it like my blog idol. But I will not pose naked with a water gun hiding my groin; for that you have to pay, even if it wouldn't be worth it.

Hapless with Hound

On the sofa. The mood is orange alert. War and dread are simmering on the back of the stove. Cable Network is cooking. The ad I am watching is one that my agency did last summer. It makes me cringe. I am watching for hours at a time. It is on every 14 minutes. It makes me self-medicate.

Yet another inch of ice plus two of snow... and this is March? It almost doesn't matter anymore... it is all so very Six Feet Under.

But at least I am laughing again; even if it is come and go. And I am so loving taking pictures. But they are mostly of my hapless hound. Poor thing, it is all so very Best In Show.

This weekend had a touch of the surreal. M has been listening to old radio shows via mp3 files off the net. It is all so very Burns and Allen these days.

Park Walkway

Somewhere the festive detritus of Mardi Gras celebrations are being swept up, but here we are still shoveling driveways. I don't care. I am submissive. I am now the weather's bitch. Do me big boy. Go ahead... spring will surely come.

My mindset has changed---galvanically.

Is that a real word?