- I still know the words to the Lord’s Prayer and Amazing Grace, thanks to my years at Catholic School and UCC
- It’s not the words of the speaker that make us cry, it’s their own emotion. Therefore, humans are born with an innate sense of empathy.
- Old people like to pick at their faces
- The pastor may go on longer about their religion, than the person who passed away and their faith. This is more to comfort those in mourning, than about honouring the memory of the dead.
- Knowing someone for only a month before getting married can lead to over sixty years of marital bliss
Things I Learned At My First Western Funeral
3
A Night with Russell Peters
Having front row tickets to see Russell Peters means that you’re a fairly big target for being picked on.
Especially after Pat yells “WOO” amid an otherwise silent theatre when Russell starts to explain how Chinese people aren’t as cheap as Indian people. From that point, we were known as the “Wu” family, and he’d refer to us when talking to the Chinese crowd.
No one is off-limits though, and his ethnic jokes cover a spectrum of races as wide as the earth. I suppose that’s how he pulls off his particular brand of stereotyping comedy. Ottawa is an especially fitting place, where minorities mingle instead of segregate, and perhaps it’s exactly this reason that the crowd is so ebullient. It almost as if his set is written for us.
Afterwards, it was back to Pat and Jen’s for some conversation over hot chocolate from their Tassimo. A scoop of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream dropped into said beverage turns it into a yummy candy-cane hot chocolate, something I must explore further in the future.
Drive To Nowhere
I put on my most comfortable hoodie, grab a camera and a tripod. Pass by the mirror and see my eyes are swollen. A baseball cap’ll hide my face.
I put on The Alchemy Index. First is Fire. An anthem of rage, and burning, and fury in the night.
I had Firebreather by Thrice playing here.
The flames will rise and devour me.
Oh, to breathe in fire, and know I’m free.
I find a quiet, winding road, alternating between 60 and 30 max. About eight kilometres down, there’s a small ferry loading dock, with a place to park on the side of the road. I get out and take a picture of the car. Other cars keep passing by, their headlights leaving streaks across my camera sensor.
The road slopes upwards around a bend, and I drive off again to find out where it goes.
There’s a lookout point on a cliff, surrounded by a rail. Across the waves of the Ottawa river is Quebec. People come and go. Three types of people.
The couples here for a romantic view. They park, walk up to the railing, and talk to each other about nothing in particular. The girlfriends get cold and shortly want to leave.
The kids in their parent’s cars, already high or drunk. They sit in the car with all the lights on, talking through their music, oblivious to the serenity around them otherwise.
The men here by themselves, abandoned and alone on a Friday night. They sit in their cars with the lights out, and come out to lean on the railing every now and then. I’m one of them.
On my way back, I skip Water and put on Air. A song about a boy who could fly, about falling upwards and away.
I had A Song for Milly Michaelson by Thrice playing here.
So, here we go.
Hold on tight and don’t let go.
I won’t ever let you fall.
I love the night.
Flying o’er these city lights.
But I love you most of all.
I miss a turn, and find a smooth pavement road that winds through the forest. My eyes are dry and tired. I put on the high beams and cruise control, discovering another way home.
The Profits of Art
I’ve sold 10 of my fruit and body prints so far. Officially, I’ve made a small profit, with the money being used to pay off the debt incurred from the purchase of much photo gear.
When Dan did my reading two years ago, he mentioned that I see colours differently from other people, and that I should try making money off my art.
Back then, I was far from considering myself an “artist”. I used my camera to express myself in capturing memories, not in delivering messages. At the first Emergence Exposition, Nisha would introduce me to people as a photographer. I would add the word amateur as a prefix, but Nisha would correct me and say aspiring. I suppose I’m more inclined to agree with her now. Being able to support myself like this (albeit in a small way) makes a big difference.
It’s a great feeling when someone hands me a cheque, and on the little memo line is written “art”.
The best part of the entire process though, is meeting people. Not just meeting people I ask to model for me, but when I’m delivering prints as well. I get to see where they’re going to hang the pictures, and I get to meet their kids, their parents, their pets, their friends.
Most recently, it was Tiana, who has two dogs, a cat, and a husband. I didn’t get to meet Brent (or the cat) but I’m sure the opportunity will present itself at some time in the future.
I just want fucking makeouts
I drove home from class tonight with the windows down and the music cranked. It’s not the songs, it’s not the singing, it’s not the speed, it’s the air that affects you. That smell.
The Operation by Charlotte Gainsbourg is the ultimate night-time driving track when you’re feeling single and electrified.1 The baseline drives you.
I had The Operation by Charlotte Gainsbourg playing here.
i want to explore you
i’m gonna get under your skin
so you can feel me running through your veinsi want to examine
every inch of your frame
the pressure points that cause your joy and pain
When I got home, I showered, got into in my PJs, took Dolly in my arms, and stood out on the patio. I wanted her to feel what I was feeling under that night sky. She clung to my arms, but didn’t make a sound. It was unlike her, because any time Dolly gets picked up she immediately begins purring. The night was too much for her.
I think it’s too much for me sometimes.
For now, I’ll live vicariously through Maggie. Except I won’t be getting drunk on Sparks (the orange kind), I won’t be going dancing, I’ll just keep running into my crushes at every turn, and I’ll keep meeting the asshole, idiot guys they go out with. And like Maggie, I’ll refuse to be that guy. The one who talks shit about other guys, the one who flosses his cash money, the one who drives fast to prove he’s got a dick.
Yes, I’m breaking my post order because of Maggie. It’s like she made me write this. I would totally hoolahoop and make Dragon Ball Z poses with her. I just found out that I don’t know how to spell hoolahoop. Hula hoop. There we go.
Maybe this dry spell is making me loopy.
I think I’ll sleep with the windows open tonight.
- This song won’t be up for long; I’m taking it down in a couple days. [↑]
The Essence Of Spring Nights
Go outside. Right now.
It’s dark. It’s cool. It’s breezy. Grass has replaced the snow. Walking downtown, the smell of shawarma from every Lebanese restaurant, the people shedding their coats, the surfacing skin, it’s as if the world is blooming while the sun has set.
All I want is for you to be here with me. To share this moment with you.
It’s a pity to be alone on nights like this.
A Day In Montreal
Andrew, Alex, Annie, and I took a road trip to Montreal. Armed only with my GPS and a veggie platter, we headed to the food capital of Canada without a plan or timetable.
Schwartz's Hebrew Delicatessen
Our first stop was for lunch at Schwartz’s. It’s a tiny place, packed with with the heady aroma of seasoned smoked meat. Established in 1928, it’s a landmark in Montreal. I like to imagine that Moe’s Diner in The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz was based on a place like this, or maybe that Leonard Cohen frequented in his youth, and I was sitting where he penned the lyrics for his songs.
Nothing In Particular
It’s late. I should really be in bed. My eyes feel super dry and tired. I don’t even think I have enough energy to floss before brushing my teeth, but I’m going to force myself to do it cause I have a dentist appointment on Wednesday. At least I’m showered, warm and comfortable.
I haven’t sat down in my chaise to write in a while, although I should because it feels so good. The two-day writing schedule fits nicely in with everything else going on in my life.
It’s been busy. Andrew and Alex left last week, so I have to the house to myself again. The company was a fun change. Through them, I met Ziny and Ellen, whom I did pictures of yesterday. Hopefully I’ll be doing some more of Paige tomorrow, as well as more work on my next project in the upcoming week.
My sleeping schedule is still somewhat messed up, but only because of engagements that keep me up late. Thanks to smoothie power, and a better understanding of how to control my eating through bouts of IBS, my stomach is much better. I’m still breaking out pretty badly though.
Went to see Dan today. I haven’t been to his place since last fall. Last time we hung out, it was for phở and to watch Being John Malkovich at my place. Every time we hang out, we play musical tennis, where we take turns listening to a song, and giving another song recommendation based on the previous one. This is super fun, and only Dan has a taste in music as diverse as mine to play this correctly.
Drove to Quebec for the first time, and the roads are pretty bad. The lines have mostly faded and the shoulder has encroached on the road, so you can’t tell where you’re suppose to be. On top of that there are potholes everywhere, and the usual assortment of bad drivers, and this makes driving in the French province less than fun.
Since I don’t take the bus anymore, I don’t have any time where I just sit down, hence no time to read. With the time I’m saving, I’m trying to read before I go to bed. My book rotation right now is the following:
- a fiction book, currently Last Light Of The Sun by Guy Gavriel Kay
- a Taoism book, currently Awakening to the Tao by Liu I-Ming
- a Tai Chi book, currently The Essence Of T’ai Chi by Waysun Liao
- a book recommended by my therapist, currently Reinventing Your Life by Jeffrey Young and Janet Klosko
In the next couple of weekends, I’m trying to hang out with Darren, Navid, Pat, Julie and Blake, Frédéric and Misun. I don’t like to mix friends. It’s not as efficient, but I prefer to concentrate on one (or one couple) at a time.
Through all of this, I’m missing Bronwen sooooo much.
The Choice
I’m in a bad way
My sleeping schedule is upside down. I’m lovesick. I’m heartbroken. I can’t eat anything without shitting blood. My lips are chapped. My teeth keep grazing my canker sore. I’m breaking out. I’m dreading another day of work.
These are the times I truly feel alone. I’ve never been very good at taking care of myself.
But I’d still rather be alone, than be with you.
Things I Learned At The Whiskey Bar
- Everyone — and I mean everyone — between the ages of 25 and 30 used to watch The Fresh Prince Of Bel-Air
- The token Asian guy has a fraternal connection with the other token Asian guy in every clique
- Fire has the ability to bring out people’s primal natures, and make them throw their hands in the air and wave them like they just don’t care (or some reasonable facsimile thereof)
- Some people think they’re never too old to get hooched up for a Saturday night
- A good DJ can make you feel like you never left high-school
- Even at 27, I still look like I’m 18, according to the bouncer who carded me
Like A Moth To Flame
I’m thinking this and writing this and I have to say something to someone but Pat’s busy, Julie’s out of town, and John’s gone missing. Not that they would understand anyway. Not that even I understand.
De-loused in the Comatorium is cranked on my speakers right now because it’s how I feel. Last week, my neighbour told me he’s never heard a peep from me. Now I question whether I’m pushing my luck. It’s like I stepped out into the darkness of a cool night from a production of Equus. These synapses firing. The jitteriness. It’s ten, I haven’t had dinner, but I’m shaking too much to eat.
I feel like I could write for days and days and days and days. Maybe I’m just happy to have something to write about. Maybe I’m just happy to feel this way again. This self-destructiveness, even in the face of certainty.
A little clock in front of the turquoise man says I’m away, but I’m here. Talk to me, Darren. Where are you? Only you would get it. Only you know how I feel, because you’re probably feeling the same thing right now.
We’re drawn to that which hurts us. In this way, we reveal our vulnerability, and only those who are so vulnerable recognize their own.
It’s time I turned down this music. It’s time I put some food in my stomach. It’s time I scalded myself in the shower. It’s time I got some sleep.
Sometimes you don’t know you’re alive until you’re burning.
Update: March '08
It’s been a full year since I did one of these update entries. It’s interesting to read the last one. Addressing the subjects I wrote about: I’ve changed layouts three times, I’ve received over 2000 comments, Balls of Fury was hilarious, and my trip to New Hampshire changed my life.
The Car
I finally, finally, finally got a car.
For years I took the bus, just so I could put the money — otherwise spent on a loan, insurance, gas, or maintenance — towards my mortgage or photo gear. Things like heavy groceries, purchases of large or bulk items, and trips to remote areas with no bus service would leave me dependent on the favours of friends with automobiles. No more.
It’s black 2008 Honda Civic Coupe, like the one above without the tinting. At first, I wanted it in grey metallic but it looked rather blah in the showroom.
I should have it next week. Trips to Montreal (for photography and food) and Toronto (to visit John and Darren) have already been planned, as well as the surrounding areas during the springtime. And if Bronwen and I were still on speaking terms, I’d drive her to the Casino du Lac-Leamy to gamble on the horses.
The Temporary Housemate
Alex is staying with me for two weeks while he does a medical internship at CHEO. The company will be a welcome change. It’ll be nice to have a roommate for a bit and give me an excuse to watch movies that I don’t otherwise make time to watch.
The Photo Gear
Fed up with the deep red of my studio and taping black construction paper to the walls, I bought a black muslin backdrop.
Dolly, being a cat who must sleep on anything new in the house to mark her territory, promptly settled herself on the backdrop as soon as I had finished ironing it.
I also got a Chimera XXS softbox for one of my next projects, which will heavily use macro shots. The softbox will allow me better control of light, as well as more even distribution of light than an umbrella.
Next on the list is a second flash and stand, but it’ll be some time before I can afford that.
Snowstorm
Snow is a relatively hard thing to capture on film. With so much white, there’s very little contrast or texture, so nothing to lead the eye. You want to give a sense of being suffocated by all this now, but too much of the same thing in a picture becomes boring. It’s balancing the subject and working with available light that becomes important.
I don’t think we’ve reached the record for snowfall yet, but we’re close. I tried to walk to work, but gave up. Even trudging through the snow to get these shots left me sweating. It’s days like these that I’m thankful that I live in a condo, because my condo fees go towards shoveling the parking lot. People told me they had to shovel their driveways a couple times in one night.
Traces of Me
I’m just coming off a moderate cold I’ve had for the last week. All the classic symptoms — runny, stuffy nose, congestion, slight headache, yellow phlegm — but oddly enough, barely a hint sore throat. It’s been unpleasant to say the least.
A little while ago, Tiana wrote “I look in the bowl after to see how impressive it was. I’m pretty sure you do too”.
This cold has made me realize that I not only look in the bowl (I’m sure Freud would diagnose us as being fixated in the anal stage of psychosexual development), but I open my Kleenex after blowing in it as well, to check for discoloured mucus, phlegm, blood, or bits of brain that may have escaped through my nose.
Emergence Exposition Opus 02
The last three months led up to this night.
After attending Opus 01, I knew I wanted to be a part of this.
John, as a true friend, flew from Toronto to be there for the night. Alex, who was doing a medical internship at a family practice in a nearby city, drove there. Even Pearl also dropped by and I got to meet her.
I was so busy talking with my guests that I didn’t even have time to go into the other rooms to see how the other artists were doing. The house was packed with people again, young and old.
Performances
Jacqueline’s second piece was Sonata in A Minor, by Franz Schubert (unfortunately, her first piece was over ten minutes long, which isn’t allowed on YouTube). I found it to be a rather masculine piece, beginning like a sombre funeral march, leading to a journey of bubbling emotion, so it was mesmerizing to see a girl play it with such conviction. Pay special attention to the burning trill at 5:28, which leads back to the main theme.
Misun told me that when she handed Jacqueline a rose after the performance, it looked like she had run a marathon.
Afterwards, Jacqueline told me after she couldn’t stop looking at my penis through her performance, then quickly corrected herself and said the penis picture, which was hung across from her.
Louise plays the harp by feeling only. She doesn’t have formal any musical training, so she doesn’t write any of her compositions down. It just flows from her fingers, and quite well I might add. As a result, her music is semi-improvised.
John kept telling us how not drunk he was, even though you can clearly seeing him downing glasses of wine in this video.
The after party
When the people left and the doors closed, the real party began for the artists, their guests, and the volunteers. Frédéric and Misun broke out the cold cuts, the fresh and fancy bread, the wine, the cheese and we celebrated a successful night. We had been standing for five hours, so it was time to take a break.
When Dan gave me a reading two years ago, and said that I would be making money off my art within the next 15 years, I never would have believed him.
Note: All media in this post has an extremely warm colour tone. I decided to keep it instead of balancing it to neutral white, because I enjoy the cozy feel of it, which expresses the mood of the house-gallery.