Monthly Archives: April 2007

Wedding Shot Scouting

Thumbnail: Church tower
Thumbnail: Brick corner
Thumbnail: Alterna Bank
Thumbnail: Matrix wall
Thumbnail: Brown brick wall
Thumbnail: Large brick wall
Thumbnail: Alterna Bank
Thumbnail: Lined wall
Thumbnail: On the stairs
Thumbnail: Stall warm-up
Thumbnail: Pat stalls
Thumbnail: Jeff stalls
Thumbnail: Tunnel pillars
Thumbnail: Wide-angle sunglasses

I offered to help Pat and Jen scout out some locations for the wedding photos. They’re looking for the less-conventional urban look, which I think is a great change from the clichéd tree and river shots that have been done to death. Since it’s mostly architectural, emphasis is placed on structures, textures, and colours. We spent a couple hours downtown, discovering areas of Ottawa that we’ve never found before (and Pat’s lived here all his life).

This was probably one of the most productive photo sessions I’ve ever had. I got a bunch of great shots, but there are too many to put into one entry here.

Letter From An Ex-Girlfriend

Jeff

Where do I start? I can’t even begin to recount the last six weeks of my life, and really if I were able…Im [sic] not sure you’d want to hear it. I won’t say the “let’s be friends” email was a surprize [sic]…I suppose I just needed to hear it.

I find a letter in my mailbox, wrapped in a gold foil envelope, teal letters on a white page.

The letters are blocky, square, with no regard for case. She used to write me notes with her Es as three parallel lines, counting on the eye to draw an illusion of a vertical bar, and her Os dotted in the centre. It was one of her things, one of the details she used to be unique.

Now she’s abandoned all that.

I’m already skeptical, on my guard.

It’s hard though…I had my chance…I suppose you had yours through our relationship…you couldn’t be what I needed then and now look at you — the subject of my fantasies…watching from afar…wishing I’d have saw [sic] these things then — wondering if maybe I had looked through less skeptical eyes, I could have saw [sic] who you are today.

I’m reminded of why it ended. Of how hard I tried to make it work, of all the things she did to hurt me.

Now she points out her faults. The mistakes she made. She flatters me. She lets her guard down. I’ve never felt her so vulnerable, and this is how I know she’s changed.

You lead the structured life I always wanted, I don’t know if you have a counterpart in your life…I don’t know if you’re content now to structure your own world and not yet someone else’s…there are few things I do know about you…but what I do see…Im [sic] sorry I didn’t before.

Truth be told…Ive [sic] driven all the way to the east end on a few occasions and turned back. My intention was to fall at your feet…to kiss them as I had in the past but with a renewed respect for you and a better understanding of myself. But I was affraid [sic].

I’m reminded now of what drove me to achieve what I have now. To cast off that part of my life, to buy a house, to live on my own, to move on. I may never have had any of this if it wasn’t for her.

I’m sure you’re shaking your head now…maybe laughing…maybe not even reading this anymore. You’re done with me it seems. i’m [sic] okay with that…afterall [sic] it’s my own fault. I had that chance and I couldn’t take it.

i’ll [sic] get to the point: on the next page is a short fantasy I had pass through my mind yesterday and so I wrote it down in my journal because lately something has changed in me — I never assign a name or face or…person to my fantisies…lately you’ve been front and centre.

I’m reminded of how intensely sexual she was. The nights we stayed up, alive in flame, consumed by our concupiscence, pushing the limits of our bodies. There were times when I never felt so alive.

Before you read this next page…know that if you had wanted me at your feet—Id [sic] be there in a heartbeat—even still—what an honnor [sic] it would be to curl up at your feet while you read this—

Okay now Im [sic] stalling—because Im nervous at the thought of you opening your eyes to my want…for you.

Her words aren’t enough. Not enough to change my mind or what’s past.

Too little, too late.

Note: The second page, the fantasy, wasn’t included, for fear that it would give away the identity of writer. It reads like something from l’Histoire d’O; nothing vulgar, but flat, dry, and devoid of literary devices.

Words From One Who Cannot Write

I used to fancy myself a poet. Then I read a series of poems by Susan Musgrave and realized how naïve I was to believe such a thing. So I stuck with writing, and fancied myself a writer, until I read Aurora’s words, mysterious and resonating, still bitter from the breakup in January.

A while ago, it felt like I ran out of things to say. Now I realize that it’s not a lack of subject matter, but a lack of conviction.

The serenity, balance, maturity I’ve gained has robbed me of the passion that once fueled my writing.

Even as recent as January, Dave Seah, prolific creator of the Printable CEO, Procrastinator’s Clock, and fellow 9ruler, said that I wrote with “literate-yet-conversational intensity, the kind of writing that sounds good when spoken aloud”. Now my entries are dry and technical, devoid of the intensity I used to feel, and I fear that it’s a reflection of myself.

Maybe this is why I’m so quick to embrace my moods and emotions. They let me write the way I used to, with the lyrical quality and style I once enjoyed.

So I sit here, with the lights out and Leonard Cohen on, the early folk stuff before he went synth in the 80s, songs of love and hate, windows open to the night, trying to recapture the passion that drove me to write when I started this blog.

I’m not a writer. I can’t write.

I’m simply a thinker, with the need to express himself.

Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend: Bronwen

I love you too much baby
For you to be with me
I love you too much baby
I gotta set you free

—Shea Seger, I Love You Too Much

You were the closest I’ve ever come to perfect in a girlfriend. In fact, you raised the bar. Now I know there are girls out there who are funny, intelligent, open-minded, caring, sane, and I’ll always be looking for the same now.

Making love to you was fun because you’re so damn cute. I loved to look into your eyes, though I wish you’d be able to keep yours open.

In so many ways, we worked. My love of dark chocolate and your love of milk chocolate meant that we’d never have a problem finishing off an assorted box. You’re so easy-going, while I’m so uptight. All the little things, like puzzle pieces made of clay.

Even though it’s been months since we’ve broken up, our video is still by far the most played item on my iTunes playlist. It’s such a beatiful memory, and I’ll always cherish it.

I still miss those notes you used to leave me about what you did during the day and when you’d be back. Those times we’d take the bus, and you’d rest your head on my shoulder. Those times we’d wrestle and fall asleep in a pile, right there, from exhaustion.

I miss all these things, but the fact is that it didn’t feel right, and it wouldn’t be fair to either of us to keep going. You deserve to be with someone better. Someone who will fully appreciate you and the things you do.

I know I never said it in our relationship, but I loved you.

And I still do.

The Letter To An Ex-Girlfriend series

  1. Introduction
  2. Ashley
  3. Michele
  4. Christie
  5. Jackie
  6. Louise
  7. Bronwen