Posts tagged ‘yarn bombing’

September 7, 2010

XylaChai

How long, how long did your estuary run?
Did you call yourself a father?
Did you call yourself so dumb?
Did you call yourself a shovel that was suffocating fun?

guys

i am so bad at this

i swear i’ve been good

working at the gallery, babysitting and such has lead me to believe i am ‘busy’

and what with my whole one class this semester

it’ll get me real far.

in other news i’ve been crushing violets, yelling at phones, avoiding hairy necks, pilfering seeds, chasing tails, eating [mostly] raw, feeding fish, sleeping with the decameron shoved under my pillow for plague dreams, wanting to be dame darcy when i grow up, counting down the days to 24, knitting my hands off, bruising my hips, possibly going to the gun show [?], and other nonsense.  i’m sure there’s more but no one cares so here’s some stuff

[camera’s still bust]

heads up!

new zine! took me absolute days to piece this guy together and its still horrendously written. I’M A VISUAL ARTIST. ahem.

201008311434000

i also recently knit a larger than life sized kalashnikov! i succeeded! next up —- chainsaw??

september is the one month that isn’t full of surprises. the cool routine is refreshing but i daresay in the long run, i should mess it up a bit because the following months tend to be excruciatingly difficult. let’s do this right, this time. for once. i’m getting too old for this heartbreak business.
one thing to look forward to is the highly anticipated move out of this…city. in the spring. so.

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July 22, 2010

bombs not guns

Now the rain’s like gravel on old tin roof
And the Burlinton Northern’s pullin’ out of the world
With a head full of bourbon and a dream in the straw.
And a Gun Street Girl was the cause of it all.

comfort tagging, yarn bombing, grafknitti [though i’m not much of a knitter]

st viateur and st urbain

laurier and clark

fairmount and parc ave

i do this for many reasons

like rebelling against the colour grey which we are coerced into having a relationship with in this disgusting urban environment

like opening up a dialogue with my fellow citizens.  living in a closed world, the subversive act of doing something unusual in a public space creates a safe place to ask the questions ‘what are you doing?’ ‘who are you?’

this is a good thing, i tell myself

this is not like dancing alone

this is like being something realer

this is reeling from the blow of returning to the [un]fair city.

the light here is not unlike trying to photograph heat
my keyboard is still set to german because i couldn’t stop writing about einstürzende neubauten

here’s to hoping my Ys and Zs are easilz transferable and feral enough to hold their own

in effort to not turn into a sponge, i created a little [semi small] art book of 10 mixed media drawings

duet cover

duet epic

to the mewling of our qat outside, i dreamed of hugging and running to the sea.

i wonder what that feels like.