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Snap Inspections & Other Grief...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
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The neighbours' pigeon, alas, didn't work out. It started flying about her apartment, ignoring the oats and water set out for it, flying into things, landing on picture frames (of which she has many), shitting on walls, typical pigeon behaviour, and when it had enough it left.
I was pretty sure it wasn't going to work out.
Monday, Tuesday, we've become the "Midnight Sushi" joint. Nothing happens all night and then, a quarter to close, they come, 1 to 5 tables, to whittle my time away into the wee hours...
Tuesday night, returning late to my apartment to find a not stuffed in my door advising that they're coming - the Pastor and repair men - to inspect my heating unit.
This is, of course, impossible, my place is quite literal a landslide of art supplies and dishes; a mess, proper-hoarder type scenario, I mean, I was dealing with it as fast as I could, bringing stuff to/taking stuff from the Locker, but - I'm dependant on other's for rides and so it wasn't going exactly quickly. Add to that I was looking at organizing my art supplies in the locker in a way they weren't organized at home. So it was to be a process...
It becomes obvious there is no time for the process. Wednesday, up early and stressed, coffee, breakfast, roll up my sleeves and hit the mess. Not cleaning, per se, more hiding shit in my bedroom, moving garbage from one pile to another. It takes about 4 hours and I'm done, or close enough, everything squared away, a "reasonable", "somebody lives here" sort of mess, my shrine is obvious and should be visible to the pastor, as is the King James Bible I leave on the bookstand to be duly noted as well. I think of opening it to a favourite passage, but I'm trying to keep it in the realm of somewhat plausible...
I got to admit, it kind of feels good. The weight of all these unfinished things swept away and stashed in closets, well, it's good, makes obvious how easily and why my focus is so scattered, a semi-clean apartment (never mind the bedroom has become "the mess" - nothing happened there anyways). Over the next few weeks the mess will move from the closets to the locker where they can be further sorted and categorized, and things can come from the locker to be built upon or sold, this dependancy on other peoples' schedules is a bit of a nightmare but must be endured until I'm driving myself...
...and the days, outside, beautiful, sunny, the sort of weather one should be chomping on nuggets down by the river or bashing at some overhang or striding the forest and digging holes or going down into ancient mines...
Instead, out of my apartment, hiding out at the library until the heat pump has been examined...
Neighbour's new pet...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 68
The neighbour's texting me, she's got a new pet...
Now you have to know she leaves her door open all day. Keeps the place cool. I do the same, only my place is a mess and I don't want to be judged...
So anyways she's sitting there on the couch and a crow chases a pigeon into her apartment. She chases the crow out, "Your Crow" she accuses me, but the pigeon's not going anywhere.
It's found a ready-made nest in her salad bowl, and she's set out some oats and water for it. This pigeon, it's stumbled into it's best possible life...
"You do know" I tell her as I'm leaving "A bird in the house is an omen of death?"
She's unfussed and loving the attention.
I'm on the rooftop trying to write and have been just discovered by the crows. Unfortunately there's cameras up here, so there will be no peanuts for them today...
Weekend, ties, buttons, gold pans and phone...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 49
Trips to the locker thwarted by friend having to work. Nonetheless I managed to get rid of 3 very large boxes of buttons totalling a hundred and fifty pounds, all sorted by colour (don't ask, a collection I amassed for someone who had an artistic use for such and then strayed from my acquaintance), my entire necktie collection less a handful grabbed at the last minute, a stack of fine suit jackets (and I'm now worried my Sterling Silver cigarette case was in one of the pockets; I've not found it anywheres)...
In getting rid of this all, in such bulk, I'm taking a bath. The ties alone, sold one by one, are worth thousands. I'll be lucky to see a few hundred. But the freedom in space is worth it and did I really want to photograph and list them online one-by-one?
To the antique shop a couple of antique gold pans, an antique telephone. He's pleased, these things always sell. I have yet to see my commission. I'm kind of needing my commission.
***
The weekend, hot, when the sun comes over the building and shines through the window the apartment becomes a furnace. I have to start drawing the blind. The temperature, maybe only 27 degrees, but more than I like. That's fine weather to be in the forest or panning for gold, lousy weather to be trapped in town.
Daytime, the streets are quiet, evenings when the sun's gone down they're filled with throngs of people, outside bars, restaurants, the hotels are full, an "Influencer Couple" walking down the street looking for fans, others, recognize who you recognize, ...
Sunday, much the same, the heat of the day, oppressive, the streets again empty...
Virgin has been calling me. 3 times yesterday, twice already today. Oh, they're the abusive girlfriend who so desperately wants to get back together, for sure. There should be laws against soliciting - telephone or otherwise, on Sundays.
Bringing me to today. The weekend trip to the locker fallen through I've nothing to do, exist until I go to work, some writing, a bit of painting (already looking bad so when I get back home I'll attempt the second pass, see if I can make them look good); my daughter has me on some series "Nirvana, the band, the show", which so far hasn't amused me but thankfully the episodes are only 10 minutes long...time to glance over the bookshelf and find a couple more I can get rid of, what to read next, but it's time as well to turn over the plants, repair the planters fallen through over the winter, water, and find ways to clean up that damned apartment...
Hamnet - 2025
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Film
- Hits: 66
This was excellent. Without giving too much away; the foreshadowing (the dark hole in the woods), the inexplicable trifles assigned a prophetic quality after the fact, a meditation on how we process grief and how while we may feel so alone seldom we are. A film of dark moods and perfect, perhaps more for a winter's night, but I've been behind in my cultural obligations.
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