still

your hands are still now
skin thin like parchment and rings on fingers
curling inward
holding nothing but themselves.

(you used to hold my hand when I was little)

your eyes are blank now
lashless lids over a paler blue than I remember
looking outward and seeing nothing
or inward and everything.

(you used to wear glasses)

your hair is white now
grey gone the way of memory but still
falling in girlish waves washed
by strangers.

(you used to wind my curls around your finger)

your voice is silent now
hushed by the rush of air through the tubes
in your face and the race of the drugs through
the needed needles in your leg. every two hours.

(you used to tell me stories)

go
go now
go and be free
you are loved
you are
still

Spesh K live @ Zaphod's (Byward Market, Ottawa) TONIGHT!

Bust out your bling, fluff that fade and get your ass out to Zaphod Beeblebrox TONIGHT(Friday, June 16 2006) to check out Spesh K, the hottest underground MC to come out of Halifax since Classified and Canada's answer to Gorillaz.

Joined onstage by:
Jugga (from the Boogaloo Trybe and the What's the 411 Tour)
John Akpata (2004 CBC Slam Poetry Face OFF Champion)
Ritallin (poet/MC and author of Cerebral Stimulation)
DJ Alive (CKCU FM Word Life Show)

Hosted by: Nathan Bishop (Celtae, Nathan Bishop Band)

Venue: Zaphod Beeblebrox, 27 York St. Ottawa
Cost: $8.00
Doors: 8pm
Age: 19+

Go West, young man

This past weekend, N and I spent several hours at WESTFEST flyering the masses for a hip-hop show he's promoting (shameless pimp post to follow). We took in some great spoken word performances and a couple of fun local bands. There was a nip in the air, but that didn't stop the fun-lovin', hemp-clad Westboro hippie set from taking to the streets in droves...with their dogs. There were pooches partout. We saw approximately a bazillion dogs, from the prancin'-est of pugs to the beefiest of bulldogs. It was less WESTFEST than it was ButtSniffFest. Despite the canine cornucopia, however, the prevalence of poop was virtually nil. Kudos to the stoopers.

I didn't bother taking any pictures - being far too busy gorging on hotdogs and cotton candy - until we stopped by a used instrument shop for a quick gawk at the merch. It turns out that guitar shops = photo ops...



Hanging guitars



Hummingbird detail



More hanging guitars



N puttin' down his rock star thang


Gee whiz...I hope I don't get in trouble for posting that last one...

*blocks a nose flick & prepares to leap*

Good times.

Window shopping

Looky what I found during a recent evening stroll in my neighbourhood:

Now affectionately known as "the evil nurse window" (Cartier @ McLaren), it looks even better when backlit at night...

...comme ça. It's very Darryl Hannah à la Kill Bill Volume 2.

And then there is this apartment building on McLaren. It's really quite cool.

Get out for a stroll in your 'hood. It'll cure what ails ya.

Streety graffiti

No To War on Elgin St. (outside British High Commission)



Fast Food Zombie (à la Swoon) on Wellington St. (in front of Métropolitain Brasserie)



Sleepy Sheep on the side of Boushey's on Elgin St.



Lion on Wellington St. (near the Chateau Laurier)


Ottawa is definitely not what you'd call a Mecca for graffiti artists; that being said, one can still find little nuggets of street art goodness around town. You just have to look.

These captures are from some of my recent rovings. I'll post more as I find them.

Kingston, ON...yet more pictures.

Night garden - detail of cherub




Night garden - cherub




"Kiddush" urn


Yeah. I went a bit nuts with the pictures in Kingston. These were taken at night, on the way back to the hotel after N's gigs at the Tir. I have a thing for twilight/night photography. Again, resolution is a factor...speaking of resolution, I should probably make one to get me a digital camera.

(Aside: I have never, ever enjoyed a walk more than I have with N. Hand-holding, critter-watching, tree-smelling goodness. He stops and waits for me while I take pictures. Love him.)

Hum. I think this is turning into a photoblog.

The Hotel Belvedere - a pic"tour"ial

These captures are from a recent trip to Kingston, ON (see "Road trippin'"). The resolution is dicey - a phone cam will only get you so far.


Welcome





Architectural detail





Bumbershoots





Lobby reflection / Stairway to Heaven ?





Lobby chandelier





Check-in (through stair railing)





Marble bust - drawing room





Pensive woman - drawing room





Wrought iron detail - drawing room





Radiator - drawing room





Lamp detail - drawing room





Door to terrace - drawing room




More door





Secret garden - terrace





Urn and ivy detail - terrace





Cherub - terrace

Road trippin'

Road trips are fun. There are people who shudder at the thought of piling into a wheeled conveyance crammed full of people and their stuff for hours at a time. I am not one of those people. Having been raised in a road trippin' family, I am more than content to perch in the back of a car amongst the luggage and watch the world outside roll past.

A couple of weekends ago, I took a little road trip to Kingston (ON) with N and one of his bandmates - they were playing at the Tir Nan Og. I was playing roadie. We made the journey on a muggy Friday evening in a tank of a Jeep that was packed to the roll bars with bags and musical instruments. I sat in the back, curling myself around N's guitar. It was a comfortable fit. Then, after gassing up and negotiating the ubiquitous Queensway traffic, we were on the highway.

Is it wrong to say that I loved the drive? Aside from the gorgeous, bruised violet/pewter light (humid summer evenings are pretty like that), I think it had a lot to do with the smell of wet green. It was heady, fecund. I could smell it through N's passenger-side window, even at 100 kmph. That smell. It's so....Ontario. It's not at all like home, where it never gets warm enough and the vegetation is decidedly un-deciduous. You need plowed fields and broad-leaved foliage and juicy undergrowth to distill this distinctly Upper Canadian essence.

At any rate - that smell, that verdant stench, does things to me. Combined with the dusky light and the rise and fall of conversation over the rush of wheels beneath me, I was in heaven. Sensory bliss. Being within arms' reach of N in all of his deliciousness was the relish on the kosher hot dog of goodness that was the drive to K-town.

- - Tangent: There is something decadent about that subtle stickiness of the skin that happens on a muggy evening. It's a feeling that makes me stretch slowly, loving the heavy warmth, the barometric pressure that means summer and greenery and ripe cherries and less clothes. It's luxurious. Erotic. Like strolling shoeless and white sundresses with staps that insist on sliding down over bare shoulders. It makes me want to fondle the produce at outdoor market stalls and play hooky from work to go fishing. I want to eat peaches and run through sprinklers and drink sangria and make out on a balcony at night. Ah, summer. - -

I digress. The trip to Kingston was fantastic. N & Co. rocked the Tir both nights. I attended my first Saturday services at a very welcoming Orthodox shul (separate post forthcoming). The highlight of the weekend, however, had to be the gem of a hotel at which we stayed - the Hotel Belvedere. "Love nest" is putting it mildly. Our room was a haven of peace and comfort, fully furnished with beautiful antiques. The bed was so good, I can't even tell you. Breakfast - a light nosh of English muffins and preserves/cheese, fresh juice and coffee - was served either in-room, downstairs in the drawing room or outside on the adjoining terrace. We did breakfast on the terrace on Saturday morning, right after shul - it was lovely, a veritable bower. Cherubs, ivy and birdsong. The whole works. The drawing room was the french-doored picture of gentility, perfect for coffee sipping and chatting in the p.m. Delightful.

I could go on, but my next post (all pics) will say it better. Stay tuned.

Shabbat

She is beautiful. She comes to me draped in fine linens, glowing in candlelight. She is there in the wooden match I hold. She is there behind my closed lids, behind hands held over eyes. She is there in the words I speak softly, the light I gather to me. She is there in the flames.

She is reflected in the delicate curves of the kiddush cup, mirrored wine-dark, rich with the promise of repletion. I see her in bread held aloft, broken and shared. She is the guest of honour at our bountiful table. She is the prayer, the song. She is the thought spoken aloud. She is the silence.

It is almost Friday. I can't wait.