Saturday, July 31, 2010
Hey Everyone It's The Little Matts Matts
The Little Matts Matts aka my brother made this video with his two friends. I couldn't help but show it to the world. Or my one follower who happens to be my Dad.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
New Resturant Stacks
My family, Linda, Renee and I just had the best dinner ever. We invented an innovating way of eating. You all eat one thing off one plate. When that dish is done you move onto the next little surprise. This is the order of our meal.
Plate 1: Strawberry Cheese Cake, Pecan Cheese Cake
Plate 2: Steak
Plate 3: Roasted Red Peppers
Plate 4: Gazpacho Soup
Plate 5: Barbecued Salmon
Plate 6: Steak
Plate 7: Barbecued Peaches, Blueberries, Icecream, Dressed with Cognac, Brown sugar and Butter
Plate 8: Steak one last time unfortunately
Plate 9: Chocolate Cake, Strawberry Cheese Cake, Pecan Cheese Cake
No dinner table will ever be the same.
Installation Two. Story: The New Guitar
From my cozy Residence bed in Montreal to Steve's and back. Picking up a new friend.Story: The New Guitar. Downtown Montreal. 2010. Megan Giffen.
Installation One. Citrus Photo Shoot
She was quite lovely.
Citrus Photo Shoot. Grey Nuns Residence, Montreal. 2010. Megan Giffen.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Possibility When We're Six Feet Under
My Mom and her boyfriend recently started a neighborhood play production company. The following is one of the monologues that one of the main actors read to get the part. I'm not sure if I would want this to be true or not. Either way it's intriguing.
Here Lies Henry
Henry
And so, say you die
... and I know that's a scary thing but only because you don't know what happens, so I'm going to tell you.
When you die you float up to the ceiling and then you hit the ceiling and when you hit the ceiling you open your eyes and you find yourself in a white room in a kind of uncomfortable chair. And every time you close your eyes your life plays itself out from the beginning, in real time. And so you decide to close your eyes and watch. And then when your life is over a woman comes into the room, she's your maternal grandmother when she was eighteen years old and you don't really recognize her because you didn't know her then. And she takes you by the arm and leads you out of the room, through a wheat field, across a beach and over what looks like it might be the surface of the moon, to a room that is filled with photographs of every person whose eyes ever met yours. And she tells you a little bit about each of them. And then you feel tired so she leads you to an attic that is filled with mattresses from every bed you have ever slept in, and in the centre of the room is the mattress from the bed in which you were conceived, and she tells you to lie down there, and you do, and you fall into a deep and restful sleep. And then you are woken up by the person you always felt you should have spent your life with but didn't. And then you get to spend a month together. And he drives you through every storm you ever slept through to a room with a table in it and three chairs. And he leaves you there standing before the table and three people enter the room: the first preson you kissed, the first person you cursed, and the first person you saw dead. And they explain many many things to you, that you don't understand. And then they let you go through your best friend's closet and wear all your favourite stuff. And then they tell you you must enter a room filled with people and you must tell these people something they don't already know.
And before you can ask why
you find yourself in a room full of people.
People you know,
people you don't know,
people you love,
people you wished loved you,
strangers...
mostly strangers...
and you try to tell these people something they don't already know.
And then you realize that that is quite impossible. Because how can i tell you what you don't know when I don't even know what I know.
Well, I guess I know a few things.
By Daniel MacIvor and Daniel Brooks
Here Lies Henry
Henry
And so, say you die
... and I know that's a scary thing but only because you don't know what happens, so I'm going to tell you.
When you die you float up to the ceiling and then you hit the ceiling and when you hit the ceiling you open your eyes and you find yourself in a white room in a kind of uncomfortable chair. And every time you close your eyes your life plays itself out from the beginning, in real time. And so you decide to close your eyes and watch. And then when your life is over a woman comes into the room, she's your maternal grandmother when she was eighteen years old and you don't really recognize her because you didn't know her then. And she takes you by the arm and leads you out of the room, through a wheat field, across a beach and over what looks like it might be the surface of the moon, to a room that is filled with photographs of every person whose eyes ever met yours. And she tells you a little bit about each of them. And then you feel tired so she leads you to an attic that is filled with mattresses from every bed you have ever slept in, and in the centre of the room is the mattress from the bed in which you were conceived, and she tells you to lie down there, and you do, and you fall into a deep and restful sleep. And then you are woken up by the person you always felt you should have spent your life with but didn't. And then you get to spend a month together. And he drives you through every storm you ever slept through to a room with a table in it and three chairs. And he leaves you there standing before the table and three people enter the room: the first preson you kissed, the first person you cursed, and the first person you saw dead. And they explain many many things to you, that you don't understand. And then they let you go through your best friend's closet and wear all your favourite stuff. And then they tell you you must enter a room filled with people and you must tell these people something they don't already know.
And before you can ask why
you find yourself in a room full of people.
People you know,
people you don't know,
people you love,
people you wished loved you,
strangers...
mostly strangers...
and you try to tell these people something they don't already know.
And then you realize that that is quite impossible. Because how can i tell you what you don't know when I don't even know what I know.
Well, I guess I know a few things.
By Daniel MacIvor and Daniel Brooks
Schwartz
Too many pickles are not physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually possible. Thank you for teaching me this life changing lesson Maxine.
My Role Model
"She was elusive. She was today. She was tomorrow. She was the faintest scent of cactus flower, the flitting shadow of an elf owl. We did not know what to make of her. In our minds we tried to pin her to the corkboard like a butterfly, but the pin merely went through and away she flew."
Thank you Jerry Spinelli.
Thank you Jerry Spinelli.
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