Tag Archives: montreal


one shoe, alone in the alley, missing its usual friend.

an ant’s perspective

the corners we forgot
remembered with two blinks of an eye
i like looking at the ground because i am shy
but sometimes it is nice to look up at the sky

pigeon life

pigeons sit on electrical wires, vests puffed, toes warming.
but, they are anxious there and take flight, only to become cold and lonely again, wanting return to their friendly wire

columba livia; the rock dove; the pigeon.

pigeons came across the atlantic as food, for colonists, starting in the 1600s.
these pretty, feral, winged, city-rats breed four to five times a year. there have been attempts to halt their successful reproduction with serious measures, like electrical fences and food stuffed with contraceptives.

the winter’s tale

Go together,
You precious winners all; your exultation
Partake to everyone. I, an old turtle,
Will wing me to some withered bough, and there
My mate, that’s to be found again,
Lament till I am lost.

woodland creatures

there is something special about carrying things around on the ends of sticks. there is also something humorous about going around looking through people’s recycling for tin cans and then hammering holes into them with some finishing touches of garbage bag fringe. some things take a stretch of the imagination and a little bit of effort.

paneless retrograde

take that

attempting with friends

garbage post

over the last little while i have been developing this sort of theory that people are ok with garbage accumulating in certain places. maybe it is that they don’t really notice the piles or maybe it is the unwritten language of city, proper etiquette if you will. it seems partly due to the patterns of human behavior, the necessity of these neutral spots and there is definitely a location issue (slightly off the main street, tucked into a recess, never in someone’s front lawn). it seems that over time these spots become even more useful, somewhat like a reusing center but free, anonymous, ever changing; a reflection of the community itself.

Two Lonely Winter Princesses

About us:

We enjoy short walks in the snow and long johns.
In our spare time we try to capture ghosts.
Looking for someone who is also enraptured by the paranormal.
Comment below to give us a sign. We want to believe.

construction tremors

montreal’s biggest problem is that there isn’t enough space to store all the orange cones. consequently, the city is forced to be in a perpetual zone of construction.

the people of montreal dream in orange cone, recounting the times they accidently hit feral tangerine or were forced another route due to a large pile up of cylinders.

to fit in, most have taken to wearing plaid of neon and reflecting.

the issue worsens in that the prevalence of construction cones is so great that they are disregarded and the city was forced to buy new ones that have more significance. violet striped cones are trumping the old fashioned orange and white. the disregard for old cones and reverence for the brighter, bolder cones has significantly increased the coneage in the city.
in montreal, we are all suffering from construction tremors.

a walk in the park

thank you for coming to the vernissage

bitter sweet surprise

a few months ago, i was invited to a free-jazz show (not to be mistaken with a free jazz show) by the lovely, lady josephine. i guess it’s pretty obvious, but lets just she was invited to the birthday party so mr. jazzman could have his cake and eat it too (*if you know what I mean). and what a show it was. if ever you have the opportunity to watch a beautiful woman jump out of a cake, please take it. the party was at the space formally known and loved by my many of us still, 185 Vanhorne, the former BEAR loft. its always bitter sweet going back there, remembering back when it was barely livable, back when there where enormous piles of sawdust everywhere, and how we taught ourselves how to use power tools, build walls with doors, listen to the trains come and go, and we danced and laughed in the big empty space for hours that first night and so many more.

scrappers delight

tossed sore sight. scrappers delight.

if it doesn’t work right. scrappers delight.

broke down in the night. scrappers delight.

midnight gentlemen

followed by a band of bright eyed kittens, the serious, solemn D and J are competitive contemporary dancers who traverse the city glittering eye lashes and creating deep yearning.

a homage to the beasts

le pick-up

rey took me out for breakfast this morning at le pick-up. it was really good. pretty sure i had a breakfast sandwich on a croissant. is there anything better? anyways, my film always lives too long in the holga, and it gets all light leaky and shit but i guess that the way it goes.

bus graveyard

where STM’s outdated vehicles go to die.

it used to be the final parking spot for Montreal’s elderly transportation. then one night a hooded figure masked in smoke ran past me and lou made the call to the fire station as one lone bus experienced a viking burial. torched to a crisp, the bus graveyard was no longer a fine canvas for graffiti, but a symbol that the out of function busses needed a new retirement home.

desole hors service

under the highway

day three, frigid explorations continued through the cold drizzle of impending fall. this huge building leaves you feeling small against the freeway, its haunting echos of sky high traffic vibrate along pane-less corridors of reclaimed territory. it will all be gone and forgotten, but for now it remains a priceless gallery for those who are willing to enter.

casual exchange

a list of our friends who have not commented on our blog:

1. toby pickels: a.k.a. shouldercat.blogspot.com
2. dan daddy-o d. : aparticlewave.blogspot.com
3. more to come…


sails set, dew surrenders.

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