Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Day 132 of a Month Long Writing Practice

Tomorrow I begin eleven days without internet access, eleven days where I don't catch up with other peoples concerns, jokes, links, lunches. I was wondering what I'd do about my writing and drawing daily routines. Well, here is the deal. I may still write, if I do I'll write on paper. I may still draw, if I do I'll draw on paper. I won't be uploading anything. The paper will just pile up - if I actually use it. I may not.
    After eleven days I will have access to the internet again. Do I take this pile of paper - if it exists - and translate it to pixels ? Do I scrap the paper and restart writing on the screen ? We'll see. Frankly, I don't really care one way or the other. I consider this project a success. I've written things, a handful of people have read some of the things I've written. I'm not keen to remind anyone that there is more here to read. People are flooded with information anyway. Chances are, I will rope in my efforts and energies and put them to use creating something of substance. Frittering away energy is something I've done for much too long, like eating when stress starts to rise within me. Like surrounding myself with acquaintances instead of solid friends.
    So, see you later, here or somewhere else. This has been day 132 of a daily writing practice.

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Did Some Things

Outside dinner, loud team loses, paint over graf, chat with clients, sold some stuff, walked around, bought some groceries, sat with child, dreamt some dreams, laughed and sang, drank two beers, made some calls.

Monday, July 7, 2014

Meaning Absent

Applied for paternity benefits, forty minutes on the phone. Called back three times for help sorting through computer glitches. Finally done. Visit from friends from afar with baby. Attempted mini sleep over, didn't work. Some beer and chips, cheese and bread. Backgammon with the lovely lady, Minimal electronica and maybe bedtime soon. This is it. A listing of activities and events. Nothing more, no peek inside eyes or minds. Nothing but a small report that I rolled four successive doubles during the game. Meaning is yours to make.

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Baby Night

Tonight I tried and failed to put my baby to sleep. His mother came and saved me from myself forty something minutes intuit he ordeal. Baby's got lungs and patience enough to keep screaming, refusing to be soothed. Mother comes and works her magic. baby is quiet upon her and soon will be sleeping.
    I turned to food (a bowl of cereal) to calm my nerves. And the computer.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Abandon Ship

In a few days I will take vacation with my family. We will go to cabin country in Ontario and visit with cousins. We will cook together and take care of each other's kids. During this time I will not have internet access. I will most probably abandon any of my daily writing and drawing practices. Writing long hand in some notebook for eleven days may happen but i'm not counting on it. I could, I suppose, do just that and when home again, transcribe it all and upload it. It's an option. I'm thinking that this may be a convenient time to stop all this nonsense and when I get back to reality, simply dive into my graphic novel project. It's a nice thought in any case.
    I guess I could draw a daily drawing out there on the shore of the lake. I could entertain the kids with the bunny drawings. They'll all ask for one anyway. I'll play it by ear, but know ye reader, that this is me starting to justify why I'm going to drop the ball.
    Picking up another ball is mandatory. I am obliged to do so. I simply hope I'm efficient about it. Time will tell.

Friday, July 4, 2014

Games

No, do not conflate competition with decision making, do not assume competition is the only model extant in nature. Many models co-exist and intermingle in this world and as we, humans dear, shed awkward models of ourselves as Ur-versions of our present day technology, we'll find and appreciate our subtle, ambiguous natures and grow systems that echo them. No more body as machine, no more brain as computer, no more cosmos as clock or simulation. We are enamoured with the products of our hands so much that we think they mirror the thing that came before us, the thing we find ourselves in. There is always an analogue, yes, but we are the products of a greater hand, this world. If we will play games of infinite regress, let's play them right.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Warlord Of Jars

Hauled matter onto the sidewalk, to liberate the space inside. Grabbed piles of comic books and stuck them in a two dollar bin, let the kids buy them up. It's raining out now and not so hot. I realize, again, that I find it terribly tacky to put price tags on things. I'm so in the wrong business but I must say the shop looks good, like a caned store should. Bowls of goodies everywhere, no afraid of the colour or the chaos that comes with many things.
    A decent day of sales, a small bit of personal work done, morning feeding baby in the park, finished my third John Carter, Warlord of Mars book. That's enough for now. I couldn't stand it if he let Dejah Thoris get snatched away again. And I'll leave it where every nation on Barsoom clearly sees he is the top Jeddack of all time. And me ? I gotta stop it with these salami sandwiches.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

More Retail Blues

I repeat myself. I tell folks who know the neighbourhood so well that our shop is sixteen years old this year. They obviously are embarrassed.
    The walking dead mewl into the store, unknowing what it is they see. The quickly alive respond, the curious delight, the engaged engage.
    When I was an art teacher in a dead end high school, I realized that I shouldn't spend my energy on the wastrels and the stoners who don't bother to move crayons around on a sheet of construction paper. they frustrated me, they poked my ego, I couldn't get through.
    Have I been making the same mistake in my retail endeavour ? Do I focus more on the dull and bored than I do on those who laugh and get it and actually shop ? Maybe I do. My pride again. Getting in the way. Helping me fog over the good and squeak to whoever will listen about those entitled few who traipse about, touching everything and buying nothing.
    Today a few people came in glowing and shopping. It actually happens everyday. And yet too often I see folks in the neighbourhood and I can't help but think, 'they've never been in my shop'.
   

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Four Months Down, ? To Go

Stuttering towards hollow diary entries. Hot day, lunch with family, laughs with uncle, fresh fruit cut by hand. The boy is mostly good and happy, the soccer fans out the window still scream for meaning. I'm getting so that maybe daily should become weekly, fear that that will make this whole operation futile. I imagine 'saving up' my words for my weekly entry, finding I still may have nothing or little to say, skip it, skip a week, stop dead still. Project over.
    Tell you what, if I find myself drawing panels every day for this supposed next book, then I'll feel not so bad about dropping this initiative. This is day one hundred and twenty four. I started a daily text project for the month of March 2014. It is now the first of July, canada day, moving day in Montreal. The sidewalks are bursting with mattresses and chipboard bookcases. In a heat wave, it makes you want to cross the street, makes you think bedbugs can jump. If I had a wagon and a hazmat suit, I'd poke through the debris with my tongs looking for gold. If I had those things, I'd also have a cool country cottage with a stream nearby, a hammock under the shade and you guys would be coming over soon with drinks.
    Let me see if any of this will continue, let me see if I start frying bigger fish. There is one of you at least that reads these missives, you may call one day with the solution to a problem that exists only in my head. What do I do when I'm done doing this ?