Monday, November 21, 2005

In his office, William Fletcher has a sleek, black leather futon bed. On it is one small cushion swathed in soft, suede-like wool in an elegant shade of charcoal grey. He always leaves his door opened, and is never in when I wander by with the seven a.m. draft; no one is.  

It is puzzling to me how contradictory this piece of furniture is. It is meant to be a spot of oasis, of sanctuary, of haven, from the incessant repetition of the 9-5 workday. It should exude warm, airy, soft, comfort -- but in their stead, harsh, unforgiving lines, metal, shine, synthetic manufacture, too stylish for a staid government office, too hard for restorative sleep, too, too ... too ...

One day, I will go into that square, unlit space, curl up on William Fletcher's lavish, slippery upholstery, and hug the cushion close, dreaming of colours in warmest sunlight.

posted at 10:33:11 am
5 commentations.

Friday, November 18, 2005

My favourite songs are the ones that make me want to dance around the house in nothing but a pair of black panties.

posted at 1:26:19 pm
3 commentations.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Turn it up (343 KB).

posted at 2:01:50 pm
4 commentations.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

In an ideal world, words would be kept like miniature jewels in tiny boxes of sandalwood or silvered glass, and one would take them out for the happiest and most celebratory of occasions, dances and commemorations, and wear them in one's hair or tucked in a turquoise sash ...

posted at 4:24:23 pm
3 commentations.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

"51. Difference between painting and sculpture. I do not find any difference between painting and sculpture except that the sculptor pursues his work with greater physical fatigue than the painter, and the painter pursues his work with greater mental fatigue.

"This is proved to be true, for the sculptor in producing his work does so by the force of his arm, striking the marble or other stone to remove the covering beyond the figure enclosed within it. This is a most mechanical exercise accompanied many times with a great deal of sweat, which combines with dust and turns into mud. The sculptor's face is covered with paste and all powdered with marble dust, so that he looks like a baker, and he is covered with minute chips, so that he looks as though he had been out in the snow. His house is dirty and filled with chips and dust of stones.

"In speaking of excellent painters and sculptors we may say that just the opposite happens to the painter, since the well-dressed painter sits at great ease in front of his work, and moves a very light brush, which bears attractive colours, and he is adorned with such garments as he pleases. His dwelling is full of fine paintings and is clean and often filled with music, or the sound of different beautiful works being read, which are often heard with great pleasure, unmixed with the pounding of hammers or other noises."

- Leonardo da Vinci, Treatise on Painting


posted at 6:03:38 pm

I used to, without really knowing it, hum the little ditties he sang on his voicemail.

I don't remember how they go anymore.

posted at 12:34:11 am
1 commentation.

Thursday, November 10, 2005


posted at 10:28:25 pm
4 commentations.

Monday, November 07, 2005

I walked along the shelves of cloth, running my hand across the bolts. Linen, cotton, polyester silk, fleece, felt, denim.  

I was looking for printed flannel, so a slipcover could be fashioned for my much-loved duvet. My search was specifically for something with lithe cowboys and dancing lassos and bucking broncos, but true to the spirit of my home country, all I could manage to find were bulky hockey players of brutal expression.

I sighed.

posted at 10:17:09 am
6 commentations.

| Next Page

<< November 2005 >>
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
 01 02 03 04 05
06 07 08 09 10 11 12
13 14 15 16 17 18 19
20 21 22 23 24 25 26
27 28 29 30

Glo'ri'a'na, noun:
1. An alternative form of "Gloria."
2. As "Americana" defines itself as artefacts of American culture, "Gloriana" consists of the artefacts of my culture.


home | contact | profile

art    blogging    body    childhood    consumerism    dream    durr    family    fashion    film    history    humour    internet    language    lit    nerd    people    poetry    rant    romance    school    sex    social relations    toronto    ttc    work   

If you want to be updated on this weblog Enter your email here: