the hong kong jockey club; mixed media on cradled wood panel
It rained today. It was raining when I woke up. Hard, clattering rain. Some part of the eavestrough was blocked, spilling water in that gurgling, fitful way. So we had a small discussion about getting up on ladders (“You’re not getting up on any ladders!”) and kept going.
It rains all the time in Kingston. It took me awhile to figure that out. Ten years in Winnipeg and my thinking had abridged to burning, freezing, live theatre and mosquitoes. But here in the East they have rain, freezing rain, freezing rain pellets, hail, mixes of snow and rain, sleet, raining turning to snow turning back to freezing rain, shut-downs on the 401. And then various things gusting. So: a bigger menu, but it’s mostly bullshit.
The Jets are in the second last round of the playoffs so the citizens of Winnipeg must be collectively creaming themselves right now. I was there when the Jets departed for Phoenix and all the mass hysteria and shameless grieving and kids offering their piggy banks that came with that. It was terrible, and not for the reasons you might think of first.
Pouring as I drive Oona to school and I look at her in the backseat and see no rubber boots, no rain jacket. Failures in parenting are never more glaring then when your kid is not dressed for the weather. I’d mentioned the rain jacket to her earlier but then wasn’t paying attention as we left so the fault is entirely my own. Her mom has an umbrella to give but this is like applying sun block before you hurl yourself into a volcano.
Anyway, they’ll probably just keep them inside all day watching movies on iPads while intravenously feeding them pizza.
Tuesday is pizza day with her “lunch” program. Also, her mom gave her five bucks for track-and-field day yesterday and she spent it on four pieces of pizza. Didn’t do well in the 100 metres, quelle surprise. And she had pizza on Friday night even though I was home and didn’t go to my studio because her mom’s back was acting up but her mom said I needed to serve pizza anyway because “otherwise she would be disappointed” because that’s what the two of them do every Friday night like it’s a party when I’m not around. And then the two of them, like little conspirators, went downstairs and watched some kid movie about spies or robots or some goddamn thing.
This kid typically has more pizza in a week then I did from the age of zero to twenty-five.
Rainy days bring to mind how much time I spent walking the streets of our old neighbourhood around Cowdy Street. Everything was crooked and in a zig zag; you had to think of where you were going in terms of aiming at corners. And so eventually I saw everything and lot of that was how people lived and one thing that I always noticed was all the pizza boxes in the recycling. And I never had good thoughts about that.
It seems like we either treat food as holy (local, organic, artisanal, gourmet, fair trade, kombucha gluten something, etc) or sinful (drive-thru, chip truck, mochaccino, Pabst Blue Ribbon, pickles, taco cupcake something), and at the end of the best food delivery system the world has ever known, we can’t decide whether we’re dieting or fasting.
I haven’t weighed myself in weeks. People say I look thinner but people say all sorts of crazy, spiteful things.
As promised/predicted/threatened, I’m trying to use May for resolving some art and writing projects. Yes, I’m still making new work, but I also needed a venue for prints and merchandise. Plus I enjoy inventing names for things. Plus I just have so much work. If you shook me hard enough a painting might fall out of my mouth.
Which reminds me: if you’re ever in need of a present for an art-minded friend, just send me a message and I can put something together and mail it directly to them with a note on your behalf. I put together great packages! Better yet, if you live in the Kingston area, just arrange for a studio visit and you can pick something out yourself, right off the wall or a rack. Anyone who’s been to my craft shows knows how reasonable my prices are.
Okay, onward and upward. The sun is out, in that gloomy, old-Polaroid, after-rain kind of way. I’ve decided not to make supper tonight, the working day’s already too late, all adults can fend for themselves, which should make Oona (toast, fruit, cookie) very happy.
Have a good week, everyone,
Draw things, paint things, write things, make things (and escape the dreaming planet)