On Being Busy

Thumbnail: Girl outside Compact Music
Thumbnail: Bakery sign
Thumbnail: Rockstar Jeff with his bling
Thumbnail: Julie peers into a furniture store
Thumbnail: Zaphod Beeblebrox night club

So the next two weeks are:

  • a walk by the riv­er with Frédéric, Misun, and their two boys
  • four Tai Chi class­es
  • a hair­cut with Jeff
  • table ten­nis with Dan at the uni­ver­si­ty, then back to my place to watch Constantine
  • Victoria Day long week­end
  • a tat­too appoint­ment
  • a ses­sion with the ther­a­pist
  • lunch and a movie with Aaron

Not includ­ing the work I need to do on my lat­est pho­to project for the next show. I’m also sup­posed to catch up with Naveed at some point in there; he’s hav­ing a pool par­ty for his lat­est invest­ment prop­er­ty. I got us some cig­ars because he’s a new father, which I’ll have to do for Aaron as well, since his first (a boy) is on the way.

Busyness seems to come all at once, leav­ing me bewil­dered. Never a bit here and there.

Then all of a sud­den, I’m alone for days at a time, won­der­ing what hap­pened and where every­one went. It’s a strange flux that goes from one extreme to the oth­er.

The goal becomes a bal­ance of both. That way, the soli­tude is a wel­come change from the over­stim­u­la­tion and vice-ver­sa.

Love is a Bohemian Child

Quand je vous aimerai?
ma foi, je ne sais pas,
peut-être jamais, peut-être demain,
mais pas aujour­d’hui, c’est cer­tain.

One day, he dis­cov­ered that she loved him just as much as the day she left, and that every new man she sought for com­fort was just anoth­er attempt to replace him; he was unlike any­one she had ever met before. But there was noth­ing that could be done; the pain had left him cold and unmoved.

So enough about love, he said, for love is often fick­le and unre­quit­ed.

And it’s only being on both sides of such an idea that allows him to accept this.

Love is a Rebellious Bird

L’amour est un oiseau rebelle
que nul ne peut apprivois­er,
et c’est bien en vain qu’on l’ap­pelle,
s’il lui con­vient de refuser

Suddenly, he came upon the real­iza­tion that her beau­ty unin­ten­tion­al­ly entraps men, who are then led to their down­fall by their own mis­guid­ed ideas of love, and that he was sim­ply anoth­er one of many. Not that it mat­tered any­way; to force such things is futile.

So enough about love, he said, for love is often fick­le and unre­quit­ed.

Tu ne l’at­tends plus, il est là!

Photographing Couples

Julie and Blake about to kiss

Julie and Blake kissing series

Been work­ing on pho­tograph­ing cou­ples the past few months. It’s more dif­fi­cult than I ini­tial­ly thought. You want to express love, but there are only so many ways one can do so with­out kiss­ing.

You’re no longer pho­tograph­ing an expres­sion, as with a sin­gle per­son por­trait, but an inter­ac­tion.

Julie and Blake hug

Julie and Blake hugging series

Having two peo­ple express them­selves in such a way can be tricky too. Many are too shy to kiss in pub­lic, let alone on cam­era.

When it works, though, it works. You can see it in their faces. The way their eyes shine. It’s almost like they lose them­selves, because they’re drown­ing in each oth­er, and noth­ing else in the world exists.

And, of course, best viewed large and on black. Click through for full size.

Developments and Denouements

Lights down, sound up, for this one. Maybe some tea and a pas­try if it’s not too late.

I had Maps by Yeah Yeah Yeahs play­ing here.

Stripped down, the beat alter­nates between triplet-three-one-two-three-one-two and one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two, fool­ing the lis­ten­er into think­ing it’s in some sort of com­plex time-sig­na­ture. It’s actu­al­ly based in com­mon time, but with the triplets in there and the down-beat (marked by the open snare) falling on four and then three of the next bar, the song takes on a syn­co­pat­ed rhythm. This isn’t what makes the song good, though. It’s all Karen O and her voice.

I’ve been so moody late­ly. Up and down. Developments and denoue­ments. Most like­ly a result of my over­think­ing and over­plan­ning over every­thing. Still try­ing to take things one day at a time, with­out rush­ing head first, with­out falling head over heels.

It’s all a mix­ture of good and bad. Sometimes, I don’t even know how to feel.

I’ve begun see­ing my psy­chol­o­gist on a ses­sion-by-ses­sion basis (instead of on a sched­ule — an indi­ca­tion of progress). In between, my Tai Chi class­es have become my ther­a­py. There’s some­thing about class that cen­tres me; the cama­raderie, the move­ments, the breath­ing, the con­tact, the feel­ing that I’m improv­ing a part of myself, bit by bit, even if it’s sub­con­scious­ly. A time where I can total­ly focus, a place where I can for­get every­thing else.

Afterwards, it’s a dri­ve home in the dark with the win­dows down, and the rustling of wind in my hair.

The seren­i­ty car­ries for­ward. I’m recharged again. Then I’m strong enough to be myself. I’m strong enough to accept these feel­ings.

They don’t love you like I love you.