Goodness!

This morning I was virtually introduced to someone with this blog as a segue. It was kind of thrilling, 'coz it reminds me both that this blog exists, and that somehow people do happen upon it, even though it was from last year. Woop! However, I do feel a bit of an update is in order, if only for temporal accuracy. Here is my present day one.

But you should read this one too. I think it might actually be more fun.

And there are London whore box ads, if nothing else.

new season, new blog.

It's been long enough that I can't in good faith return to this one. So instead of leaving a gaping chasm and resuming my bloggy world, I'm starting afresh. tea and symphonies.
Let's see how long number three lasts.

Waysgooze!!

Today! Grimsby! Book-fair! Imminent Fame and Fortune with fellow-book-makers, lovely old ladies, errant literate teenagers, and, erm, other people! Books! Hand-made books! Knitting! WEEHOOO!!

London Whores: #3

A Bike Accident of Gargantuan Proportion. (relatively speaking)

Circa 12.30pm, College/Spadina, Toronto.
I remember almost nothing of the event, and rely on Coco for details, who bore witness to the whole atrocity.
There we were, standing at a red-light at the corner of Spadina and College. She turned her head for one minute and turned back to see me lying beneath my bike, foot attached to pedal, between road and sidewalk; there was only a momentary pause before i resumed my chatter about something of obviously Great Importance.
The cause of this unique and unprecedented incident remains unclear, although it was pointed out at lunchtime soon after that perhaps my bike had at last made its long awaited stand on rankling relationship issues, taking the strategic immobile and relatively innocuous moment to leap on top of me and pin me to the ground:
"bloody one-sided relationship! All you do is Ride and Ride and RIDE me, AND YOU'RE ALWAYS ON TOP!!"

Both bike and rider went unharmed, and the former has been assuaged with a tightening of its clips and an affectionate pat on the saddle.

well, birds do do it...

I sighted the most remarkable thing yesterday, the likes of which I might never before this have fathomed.
Two sparrows were...erm...celebrating spring (an anomalous sight; I had always perceived them as a chaste and guileless lot) on a branch outside my window.

(I almost got a photo of it and then felt like a pornographer and stopped.)
(Ok, the sun reflected off the window and the photo didn't work.)

But what balance. what equilibrium. What HUSSIES!

This morning, only one of them is sitting on the same branch, and s/he is Utterly Dishevelled.
Like, Twice the Size mit ruffled plumage.
Plumping and pruning away, it's like seeing a bum with a hangover straighten his shirt, or rather, her tail feathers.

At last, SPRING!!! ***


***an edited version of this first vignette appeared in an email to one Ozcar Wildeflower III, before which I hadn't realized this information really should be shared with the world at large. stef lenk 2007. All rights reserved.

and just in case you missed below

"LOVE-HUNGRY CODGERS".

there's still hope.

i tell you, it's All happening in London.

someone else said this to me, sometime, somewhere. (Coco?)

Julia Roberts is 38!! [sigh] I remember when she was just a hooker with a dream.

very large unfinished clock.

So Pontiac Quarterly was wicked. Liz Clayton, you're So.Cool, and thanks thanks for the invite.
Pictured below are shots of the screen projection of my hand drawing a very large clock (3'x2.5'). In three hours I managed to complete, erm, three hours of the clock face. Can you say OCD?
And, time consuming as it will be, I will most likely finish this drawing. I mean, who wouldn't want a huge broken clock gracing their kitchen wall?

Pontiac Quarterly. Tonight.

I was most honored to be invited to participate in this month's installment of Pontiac Quarterly, happening in the Drake's underbelly tonight, starting at 7pm. It's a live magazine, that is, live readings and live artistry, which is, erm, where I come in. The theme is impatience, I will be drawing a Very Large Clock on a wall, and I will be doing it Veryyyy Verrryyy Slowly. And given my cross-hatching nature, I have Absolutely No Idea how it will turn out. Eek. But don't say I didn't warn you.

and another object of interest, from the annals of my digital camera.

Utterly Hollowed. Astounding. NOT EVEN AN EYEBALL.

i've wanted to take a photo of this, Forever.

And yesterday, on a mid-day constitutional/proofreading break, I Did.

things that should be illegal: no. 413

the last dollop of milk, meant to expire FOUR DAYS FROM NOW, which WAS FINE YESTERDAY EVENING, going off AS IT POURS INTO THE TEACUP, forcing its owner to wander disconsolately out into the street, pajamas on, hair asunder, TEALESS, in search of a new carton at the corner store.
Not to mention the more than a bit disturbing phenomenon of being eye-level, first thing in the morning, TEALESS, with the weird antiques man who sits in his store across the street from me, night after night, gazing up at my window 'til all hours, (since there is NOTHING More Entertaining than watching me sit at a drafting table for hours on end, ladies and gentlemen, Absolutely Nothing).
Grr.

oh, Giles.

[to Wesley, of course]"You have the maturity of a blueberry scone. For gods sakes HAVE AT IT and stop fluttering about!"

the first rule

of Facebook is, you do not talk about Facebook. The second rule of Facebook is, you DO NOT talk about Facebook...

...except when you're talking about Facebook. Which is all the bloody time. [sigh]

my sick taste.

I was told the other day, over guiness and a tattoo gun, about this European artist named Wim Delvoye, who tattoos pigs. And though I found that highly amusing, what I found even better was his Euterpe project, where he got friends of his to paint themselves with barium, have sex in actual medical clinics, and made the x-rays into huge stain glass windows. For example:

word of the day: incunabulum.

Definition: (1) A book printed in the earliest period of printing, especially from Gutenberg's invention of the printing press in 1436 up to 1500; an incunable; (2) any product of the earliest stage of development; (3) a cocoon.

a COCOON.

little! dog! monday!

My friend Shan has ressurected (Yahoo!) little dog monday, her blog, and you should Go Forth and Visit, because it's gorgeous. (Warning, those ever shorn of dreadlocks will suffer bouts of Intense Hair Nostalgia and renewed desires to house birds in their heads)
Her website is Awesome too, and right now she is looking for submissions for her next Stones and Ghosts, which are the small bookish packages of Love she sends through the post to her lucky subscribers. I absolutely Must recommend and encourage anyone who might be reading this to take a gander at the call and send material. (Guidelines are at her site, click above)

from a Bloody Child Genius (with an apology for its proximity to the subsequent, erm, less G rated posting)

The below drawing was sent to me today in honour of an upcoming night i'm hosting, to feature scotch and children's programming, specifically 2 dvds worth of the incalculable genius that is Dr. Snuggles.
In the hopes that you will disregard the show/character's unfortunate name, dear reader(s), I assure you this is one of the best kids programs that ever existed. I got into a discussion about it quite a while back now, and couldn't take it any more. I surfed the blessed internet 'til i found a second-hand copy of the seasons on dvd.
Soon after, a fellow fan made himself apparent, and two more promptly popped out of the woodwork. And I do confess it gives me hope for the human race. Hope and a strange kind of faith.
That said, i will now post for you a visual interpretation of said Snuggles, by the self-proclaimed bloody child genius, one Steve McKay. Truly Excellent.



(The evening in question will take place on the 21st of this month and all are welcome. Email me for details. Be prepared for spotty camels, tea, the multi-coloured rainbow, Madame Dumpy-too and Copious Amounts of Scotch Whisky.