How simple a thing is happiness: a glass of wine, a roast chestnut, a wretched little brazier, the sound of the sea. All that is required to feel that here and now is happiness is a simple heart.

—Zorba the Greek

I feel like writing.

Saturdays are usually reserved for relaxation, but I mixed it with a few errands throughout the day. Bought extra auburn foliage for one of my pots, and a funnel to get fresh-ground pepper into my new pepper shaker. Picked up my weekly groceries. Sat down at the pizza parlor to start Beautiful Losers while my Hawaiian was being baked.

I watched Zorba The Greek tonight, about the adventures of an aimless Englishman who goes to Crete, and the lessons he learns from a man he meets named Zorba.

Though generally jovial and lighthearted, it was heavy and heavy at times. There’s a scene where a beautiful widow (the love interest of the movie) is ritualistically stoned and killed out of jealousy by the men of the village, simply because she wouldn’t let any of them have her. The direction is a little inconsistent, but Anthony Quinn’s portrayal of the Grecian spirit keeps the movie in tact. Many believe the movie to be an analysis of Apollonian vs Dionysian thought, but I saw it as a nod to Taoism as well.

Zorba’s a Taoist, whether he knows it or not. He shuns intellectual thought and analysis, and loves life with bubbling spontaneity. In the end, the Englishman learns from Zorba, not about life, but how to live it.

And it inspired me. Not just the dialogue or the playfulness, but the locations too. It made me want to travel, to see new places, to meet more people, and explore other cultures.

One day. For now, I’ll enjoy the comfort of my house.

So here I am, staying up late with my back next to the open window, eating butter pecan tarts, drinking Dragon Well tea, and writing as much as I can.

I think I’ll go practice the form now.

Tomorrow, I have nothing to do but live.

In my book tonight, I was reminded of the time I was sitting on the floor of my room and you were lying on the bed when I felt the foundation shudder beneath me. I mapped the escape route in my head, thought of the coats cause it was the end of winter, and was about to grab your hand to lead us outside if the earth shook again, threatening to bury us in three stories of wood and concrete. I told you to be ready to run upstairs on my word. How I loved you then.

For in doing so, I reveal my vulnerability.

Things haven’t been going my way. As much as I try to let them go, I can’t. There’s just too much right now. My mind jumps from one thing to another when I’m in bed.

I need to stay away from the blogosphere for a while. Not writing, but being a part of my usual cliques and forums. The drama lately has been really pissing me off, and it’s certainly not helping.

It’s six in the morning and I’ve been awake for…hmmm…two hours? Another hour before I’m off to work. Maybe writing this has helped.

Pick yourself up, you son-of-a-bitch, because no one’s going to do it for you.

Not necessarily lonely, but single.

Maybe it’s because I got accustomed to living with someone. Coming home to another person in the house. Going to bed with a warm body next to me.

My cuddle buddy has decided that she’s off-limits¹. I haven’t made out with anyone, let alone had sex, in months.

Dry spells are funny things.

During my last one, I was too stoned to even think about dating. The one before that was more of a challenge.

Sometimes people tell me they want to “introduce” me to someone, but I’m always antsy about hurting mutual friends or acquaintances.

One person even gave me the card of a girl they thought was “perfect” for me, whom she met while getting a mortgage approved at the bank. “Perfect in what way?”, I asked. “Every way”, she said, “Gentle, polite, petite”. For months afterward, she would ask if I called this person, and give me a disappointed look every time I said no, like a mother finding out that her son hasn’t borne her any grandchildren. I wish I could meet this girl, just to see what someone else believes I’m looking for.

My friends, who are in serious relationships or married now, talk about being single as if it was akin to their houses burning down. They’ve been in their relationships for so long that the idea has become foreign to them. “I’m too old to date”, they say, “Trying to find someone new, wondering if they like you, figuring out if you’re compatible..I couldn’t start over again”.

I always laugh, and think, “Then where does that leave me?”.

1. I hope it wasn’t because she thought I was leading her on [↑]

 

 

 

 

A few portraits of Gosia. She’s a first-generation Canadian, her parents being immigrants from Poland. One can tell she has a very European look.

 

 

These were taken with the sun coming from behind because Gosia was squinting too much otherwise. I tried my flash as a fill-in to balance the brightness of the background, which helped increased saturation in the foreground. I love the colours in these shots, they’re so dreamy.

 

Another addition to my body shot series. Gosia’s a competitive volleyball player, so she has awesome abs (not to mention killer curves).

 

 

 

A lot of guys are somewhat blinded by Gosia’s beautiful big eyes and curvy figure; they’re don’t realize that she’s quite a strong, intelligent person with a good head on her shoulders. The idea of these shots was to cover up part of her face, not through the framing of the picture, but using objects to help the viewer see past her physical beauty.

It’s the same thing every Tuesday and Thursday.

I get home from work. I have some yogurt. I power nap. I wake up. I eat some fruit. I take the bus to my Tai Chi class.

I’m more productive on the bus than at home. It forces me to sit, and removes me of all distractions.

Some days I like to zone out. I listen to music and let my mind wander. Lately though, I’ve been reading, to whittle down my list of purchased-but-not-finished books:

• Beautiful Losers* by Leonard Cohen
• Mao: The Unknown Story* by Jung Chang and Jon Halliday
• The Te of Piglet by Benjamin Hoff
• Tai Chi Chuan: The Martial Side* by Michael Babin
• Power Taiji by Michael Babin
• Yang-Style Tai Chi by Michael Babin
• The Taoist I Ching translated by Thomas Cleary
• The Tao* by Mark Forstater

The one I’m focusing on now is the Mao book (which is a tome that breaks my back when I carry it in a shoulder bag) because I’m near the end of his life and it’s getting so good and so juicy. Nearly 10 months after Bronwen’s parents gave it to me last Christmas, I’m almost finished.

And I get so depressed when I read it because it’s filled with stories of such tragedy, cruelty, and misfortune. Mao proves to be such a monster, with over 70 million people dead from starvation, suicide, or torture, that it fills me with an almost infinite sadness.

Then I get to my Tai Chi class, and it’s so small and intimate, with such a great group of people, that I feel enlightened. It’s such a beautiful, tangible expression of my beliefs. My classmates are all generous, unpretentious people. The contact when I’m pushing hands, uprooting, force-deflecting — the only physical contact I have in the week now — charges me, and stave’s the loneliness for another day.

When class is over, I get back on the bus and read more about Mao, and hurt again.

I come home around quarter to ten and cook dinner and eat and write a bit and get to sleep way too late.

It’s an emotional roller coaster I go through twice a week.

As predicted, I left my house feeling nervous and excited, and put on my Top Rated playlist to distract myself. The music of Lederhosen Lucil has never touched me on a deeply intimate level, the way, say, a Leonard Cohen or Thrice song does, but it’s still remained very personal. I discovered L.L. at a time when I was feeling rather jaded from life. The music was silly, fun, and confident, so I embraced it with delightful hedonism. It lifted me when I was in a strange state of numbness and limbo.

 

 

 

I got there at what turned out to be an hour and a half early (though it was due to a mistake on the venue website), so I wandered the store until the show started, feeling like a fish out of water in a tiny room filled with handmade women’s clothing and jewelery. Though beautiful and impressively unique, they wouldn’t let me take pictures of anything¹.

As soon as I saw Krista alone, I began to hyperventilate, which was rather unexpected (I’m still getting over how hilariously embarrassing this was). I approached her and managed to spit out “Hi” in a whisper. I didn’t know what to say, so I just asked her to sign my CD (still whispering, unable to control the volume of my voice). I’m sure I’ll appreciate such a reaction in a couple years, as not many people can cause me to be so flustered².

Continue reading

1. I’m guessing to protect the designs of the artists [↑]
2. Perhaps it was the strange feeling that Krista, who was now suddenly in front of me, had so unwittingly affected me, without ever even being aware of my existence. Or perhaps I was intimidated. I like to consider myself a creative person, but by no means a professional, earning a living off my creativity. Krista is, however, a born entertainer. [↑]

I’ve done the math enough to know the dangers of our second guessing
Doomed to crumble unless we grow, and strengthen our communication

—Tool, Schism

I suppose I feel it most when you’re not around. Empty nights, when it’s been another day without contact.

Part of me misses talking to you, but part of me doesn’t feel like it just yet. It’s a contradiction I can’t explain. Not that it matters anyway.

You just don’t get it.

Not only did I get a Flickr account this week, I shelled out some money for a Pro account.

I’ve always preferred to keep my pictures local on my server, to be served up through Lightbox2, but having them on Flickr means that I can have a photostream, which people seem to be asking for lately. I’ll also have an online backup of my full-sized prints with access to them anywhere in the world (as long as I have internet access), and get to share pictures of parties/events with the appropriately involved friends (hint hint, go sign up for an account so I can give you access).

I’m slowly going through my entire collection, making full-scale copies of the important photos, uploading, describing, then tagging them. It’s taking a while, because I normally save for web-size only.

Hopefully, people will give a hand in identifying these flowers. I have about eight of them identified so far, but until they’re all correctly labelled, I’ll have to live with names like IMG_1033.jpg, thus leaving me feeling very incomplete (I know, I know, I’m a bad Taoist — probably a part of my mild OCD).

I’ve only been a member for two days, and my most popular photo? Wet doggy by far at 115 views and one favourite already. Why? Probably because of the “thong” tag (which is displayed much more prominently in larger sizes).

Along with Twitter, the signs getting more obvious that I’m slowly being pulled into Web 2.0.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

I just found out that Krista Muir, who’s alter-ego Lederhosen Lucil I fell in love with two years ago, is playing in a small studio in town on Friday. Entrance donation is $5. As much as I want to go to hear her new album (released today, featuring ukuleles over Yamaha synthesizers), my main reason would be to get some pictures of her. I never get a chance to do concert photography, and she has a playful personality with the costumes she wears.

I’ll probably bring my 15mm and 24–70mm lenses, and be shooting at f/2.8 and 1600 ISO the whole time. I would consider my 50mm f/1.8 prime just for that extra stop of light, but I lent it to Pat and primes are much less versatile in such situations.

Two years ago, I missed her only stop of her tour in this city, when I had to “coach” my team in ladder matches at the table tennis league. That made me a sad panda.

Just thinking about going is making my stomach flutter. I may go to movies by myself, but I never go to concerts alone. The noise and crowds of concerts make me especially uncomfortable (and overstimulated), but a friend always helps me get over it. Unfortunately, no one else I know enjoys her music (which I would describe as fairly esoteric), and I wouldn’t put someone through music they didn’t enjoy. Added to this, I’ll be taking pictures, which always makes me feel very self-conscious.

Normally, I take a few weeks to mentally prepare myself for something like this, but since it’s such short notice and the opportunity doesn’t come around often, I’m forcing myself to go.

I’m scared, and nervous, and excited all at once.

I always listen to music when I’m in the bathroom, and I always dance when I’m alone.

Except you were in my room, looking in, and I was brushing my teeth to the beat. I don’t even remember the song, I just know that it moved me, manipulating my joints and twitching my bones like a marionette. Shoulders, hips, legs co-ordinated like a shameless drunk.

And if you mentioned it now, I still wouldn’t admit it.

The leaves start to turn before they drop.

It’s finally cool enough to sleep with the window open again. I wake up refreshed, a little chilly even, with my blankets wrapped to my face.

Maybe I’ve been single for too long, maybe I’m being romanced by the fall yet again, but there seem to be cute girls everywhere lately.

Though somewhat hectic, everything worked out in the end for Pat and Jen’s wedding.

Preparations

I missed the wedding rehearsal because I had to close the books for the month at work. I didn’t get to Pat’s place until 9:30 that night, which went late into the morning as loose ends were tied up, and Jason and I stayed up until 3:00 am to finish the slide show.

The girls got even less sleep I’m sure; the last I saw them they were giggling in bed like a high-school sleepover.

Before leaving for Jason’s place to stay the night (leaving the house for the girls), Pat gave me God of War 2 and Ratchet and Clank: Up Your Arsenal as gifts for being in the wedding party.

In the morning we woke up at seven, had some muffins and coffee, decorated the cars, got dressed, and raced to the church.

Continue reading

oh yes there’s many a man or woman
that’s been put in the insane asylum
when this has happened to them
and they’re sitting there today, people think they’re insane
but they saw something that’s real
and they see it when they’re on drugs
the only thing is they see it
not through the light of god

because when you see the face of god you will die

—Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Hung Over as the Queen In Maida Vale

I saw you through the window, in a coffee shop without a coffee in your hand.

At first I wondered why you were sitting so far away from your bags, as if you had put them down and forgotten where you were.

Then I realized that those bags were the sum of your possessions, along with your pink Dora The Explorer hat, and soiled orange overcoat you wore in the middle of a warm summer night. Everything about you screamed crazy.

You played with your jellybeans, tilting them back and forth in the clear plastic bag, watching them slide back and forth with eyes like stones in their sockets. You were lost to the world.

ENJOY YOUR STAY WITH US
BUT NO LOITERING PLEASE
20 MINUTE TIME-LIMIT

Then you got up and left. You wandered the street, pausing to peer in the windows of jewelery stores where there was no jewelery, like a child without a care in the world.

It made me wonder.

What got you high tonight?

Did you see the face of God tonight?

So I deleted your numbers off my speed dial. I took down your pictures. It was an in-the-moment thing.

I’m calm now, seeing things objectively, yet still undecided.

Part of me wants to believe we can still be friends. That we can still hang out without me depending on you for anything. But I’m not like that, and I don’t stay friends with those on whom I can’t depend.

I cried, not only because you weren’t there when I needed you, not only because you had a responsibility to my friends as well, but because I never allow those who hurt me so much to be a part of my life. Our friendship may be lost, and this is what upsets me the most. Perhaps it hurts so much because you were so important to me. I don’t want to lose that, but I’ll never forget what you did and I’ll never trust you again.

And if I can forgive you, you’ll know that I truly love you.