- John: You’ll never guess what I’m doing.
- Me: What?
- John: I’m cooking. I went down to the market and bought two salmon fillets. And now I’m cooking them in the oven with olive oil and salt.
- Me: Oooh, what are your sides?
- John: Sides?
- Me: Side dishes. What are you eating with it?
- John: Popcorn.
On first steps out of bachelorhood
3
The Partisan
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The Partisan, originally titled “La Complainte du partisan” in French, has always been one of my favourite Leonard Cohen songs. The lyrics are from the point of view of a sole partisan secretly fighting an occupying force in his country, but I had no idea it was specifically about the French resistance to Nazi occupation during WWII, as the only references to this are in the French verses.
You hear of soldiers nowadays with iPods and their murder mixes; playlists of heavy metal, used to keep them motivated (or, in some cases, inhuman so they can commit inhumane acts). I’ve long held the belief that if I was ever fighting in a war, this would be my song — the only one I’d listen to, and on repeat — because the narrator is so cold and stoic in his purpose.
A group of partisans joining forces with the Canadian army at Boulogne, in September 1944.
Seagull
Watched an old crush get married today.
There wasn’t a hint of pretentiousness in her face. She was never posing, never reserved. Atop a simple wedding dress — which she once told me her mom was saving for her to be married in one day — she wore the taught smile that always scrunched up her cheeks.
Ten years later, and she still has the same hair: short, sandy, with curls parted in the middle. She was one of those people who did all her growing in high-school. By the time I met her, she was already the person she was going to be for the rest of her life.
And that was okay, cause she was already great.
On adopting a second cat
- Me: I’ll probably get another cat when I get back. Not before January though.
- John: NOO.
- Me: Why not?
- John: Cause then you’ll be a crazy cat person.
- Me: Three would be borderline for a single person, four would be definite. But I’ll only have two anyway.
- John: Why do you want another?
- Me: It’s not like I have anyone in my life right now. Cats fill that void. They make good company.
- Me: Okay, maybe I’m already a crazy cat person.
- John: I’m glad you’ve started listening to yourself when you talk.
a change of seasons
We’re doing this a little differently tonight.
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I decided that I don’t spend enough time in my living room. I’m always at the computer in the corner of the bedroom. It’s my crawlspace, my cozy nook, thanks to the darkness and a decent set of speakers. Then I go to sleep on the couch in the living room.
But I used to spend nights writing in this living room. Usually on the ground with my back to a patch of wall between the window (open, of course) and the back door. Or with a mug of tea at the dining table. Nights full of warmth, and emotion, and clarity. I miss that. Back when I could still write about love. Back when I had love to write about.
But I’m here now in my blankets with my laptop. On the TV is The Brown Bunny in all it’s grainy old-school glory, and Vincent Gallo, that sexy motherfucker. I wish I could be as cocky. The second time through the movie you realize that all the girls are named after flowers.
Sunday night feels like it’s been alternating between snow and rain all weekend. As per tradition, I’m seeing how long I can go without turning on the furnace before it gets too cold. I’ve never minded the chill; it only makes blankets and hoodies all the more comfortable. My cat tends to be a lot more cuddlier too, and aggressive even, in where she plants herself next to me.
I’ve been waiting for the snow to come. Even with the hassle and the mess and the biting cold, it’s still worth it to wake up to a white world.
I’ve been drawn to photography again. With video, an important moment can be easily lost, but with photography the viewer has no choice but to confront the single frame presented to them. There’s also something about a lack of context. A photograph is more conducive to letting an audience wonder what has happened to lead up to the image, and what happened after.
The problem is that I don’t have anything to photograph anymore. I feel so uninspired. I never go out. Sometimes I wonder if I’m getting more and more anti-social. I work from home for four days a week now. Every time I think I should pick up the phone and call someone to catch up, I never do.
I’m starting to feel less and less guilty about it. I can’t tell if I’m getting comfortable, or just lazy.
into the saddle
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I’ve been building up a collection of new music for France. Stuff I’m saving for when I’m on the plane, or the train, or walking the streets. I can tell these tracks will define my time there, as well this point in my life.
Most of it has been driving. Not necessarily loud or aggressive, but songs that mark the time with bass and a steady beat, reminding me that I’m still moving, and that life won’t wait for me to catch up.
axe
hot.
I played around with Darren’s Seagull and immediately understood how visceral it is to hear and hold a decent guitar. The tone response and resonance was delightfully tactical on the larger instrument. The logical result of this is me saving up for a Taylor NS32CE six-string nylon acoustic/electric of my own. It has everything I’m looking for in a guitar:
- nylon strings (for a wonderfully mellow sound)
- a grand concert shape (which is suited to my smaller frame, and the proportions of classical nylon guitar never appealed to me)
- a cutaway (for easier access to the high frets)
- a 1 7/8 inches nut width (which is closer to classical string spacing, and hence better suited for fingerpicking)
- a solid wood body (sitka on top and sapele — a common alternative to African mahogany — on the back and sides)
- a non-flowery, non-metallic rosette (which I find far too common on typical nylon string guitars)
- a gloss finish on top (though the sides are satin, and I don’t know how I feel about that cause satin dents really easily in my experience)
- bonus: a slotted headstock (which I find to be more classy than regular ones)
- bonus: no fretboard markers (cause I don’t like most, and this would help me correct the bad habit of always looking at the fretboard)
Also, the sapele is a gorgeous dark red with light striping that contrasts alluringly with the light sitka on top. But money has been super tight lately, and I’m trying to hold off on all purchases until I come back from my trip, since I don’t know how much I’m going to spend over there.
daddy
My dad sent me pictures of his new drum set, bought for him by some women whose name and relationship with him always seems to escape me. A full-out kit with three toms, a kick, a high-hat, a snare, a crash, and a ride. It’s probably the last thing most people expect to see my dad playing, but I remember when I was a young boy him mentioning the fact that he likes drums. Along with a new Honda sport motorcycle and a new Mercedes SUV, it’s hard to deny the fact that he’s living his dreams now. Darren jokes that he’s exactly where we are now — bachelors, getting into music, no real responsibilities, just trying to live as happily as possible — only he’s almost 30 years older than us.
He signs his e-mails to me as “Daddy”. It always reminds me that I’ll always be his little boy.
under warranty
My tenor uke is sitting in a box packed with Styrofoam, waiting to be picked up by courier. There was a defect in the neck that caused a buzzing on the 1st fret of the C string, and every string after the 12th. I wasn’t willing to put up with it for the price I paid, so I’m getting it replaced by the manufacturer. I’m glad I hadn’t named it yet.
I destroyed the strings on Joolie (my Mahalo Les Paul-style concert uke) and was too lazy to restring her. There was a length of time when I didn’t have a playable uke, and this lead to the realization that I’ve developed the habit of picking up and plucking away on one impulsively every hour.
go on
I had a fever dream one night. When I woke up, everything was clear. I finally snapped back to reality. Thank fuck.
Hitting rock bottom was the only way for me to gain some perspective. When you’re at the edge, you tend to get a better look at yourself. Now my recovery is as meteoric as my fall. To be honest, I don’t know if I’m any stronger or better for it. If I ever end up in the same situation again one day, will I be able to handle it better? For some reason, I don’t think so. All I know is that I held on, I’m strong enough to go on, and I had to figure it out by myself.
cheese
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My music has been a mix of stuff lately, generally warm and chill, and most of it being too personal for me to post here. Or maybe I’m just being greedy. By a stroke of luck, I found this song after two years of scouring every possible music venue (I even had my card out, ready to buy it on iTunes, but they aren’t popular enough to be on there). I almost cried when I heard it for the first time at 320kbps.
I’m leaning towards the purchase of a classical guitar (as opposed to a steel-string one). I’m sure it’s because Cohen always used a nylon-stringed guitar in his early albums, and this has influenced my palate to prefer a rounder, mellow sound. Even though this decision will be in the far future, I can’t help but listen to as many classical guitarists as possible to see what kind of tone they can muster from their strings. Unfortunately, it’s really rare to find contemporary music (the only genre I’m interested in playing) being performed on a classical guitar, unless it’s a gimmick tune like the theme for Super Mario Bros.
The weather is turning lovely the only way Autumn can, as crisp as it is fleeting.
I have so many ideas going through my head, and I wish I could follow through on all of them. Or give up writing/photography/cinematography/web design/music and focus on one at a time. But I always get bored of a medium, or feel the need express myself with a particular one because it may better lend itself to being a voice in a certain situation.
Crystal + Jae-In Wedding Day
Shot with a Canon 5D Mk II, mostly using my new 70–200mm f/2.8 IS II. Be sure to watch in high definition, and let the video load completely before playing because the pacing and momentum are crucial.
Editing took about 25 hours, and I’m super happy with the way it turned out. There were so many great moments, and the footage has a wonderfully visceral feel to it. The most challenging part of post-processing was colour balancing all the footage, which I had to do shot-by-shot. When you’re filming for an entire day, you tend to get a huge variety of light sources and temperatures.
A note about the tea ceremonies. The first one was the Chinese version, which allows relatives to hand red pockets or jewelery (usually gold and jade) to the new couple. The second one was Korean, named Paebaek, and is much more elaborate. Relatives line up for a formal bow, tea serving, then throw a handful of dates (representing girls) and chestnuts (representing boys) to be caught by the bride and groom with a blanket. The number of dates and chestnuts caught signifies how many children they’ll have. No surprise that grandpa only grabbed chestnuts.
Then the bride is given one of the dates they caught, and the groom has to take a bite out of it from her mouth. The person who ends up with the bigger piece is the one who will wear the pants (which is why you see the bride tenaciously trying to keep the bigger piece for herself). At the end, the groom has to carry his mother and mother-in-law around the ceremony table, then carry his new bride out of the hall.
Also, this:
but doctor, i am pagliacci
I can’t put together a coherent thought lately. It’s all just bits and pieces racing through my head. I have six drafts open at once, but I get nowhere. And since I can’t write, I have no catharsis.
Only pent up emotions and thoughts and ideas and love and crazy and lust and worry.
Maybe that’s why it feels like I’m barely holding on to my sanity. I don’t understand myself anymore. There are so many ups and downs in a day. Even my nights are haunted by dreams, sometimes wonderful, mostly scary. I’ve been trying to find meaning in the little things; better ways of chopping rosemary, adjustments to the form when practicing Tai Chi, new strumming patterns on the uke.
lie to me
I feel so overwhelmed by my insecurities lately. I don’t know what to think of myself anymore. I can’t tell if I’m being hard on myself, or just honest.