Anodyne
Thursday, April 10, 2008
 

Unexpectedly hot light. Mounting cloud-tops. The funny visual consonance of the blossom-covered arms of the little ornamental cherry tree outside the front door and Grouse Mountain's snow-covered treetops, visible through the usual tangle of electrical wires/condo exoskeletons/gantries and cranes interposed between Main and Broadway and the North Shore.

To the barber. Buzz of the razor across my bald dome. Drifting, half-asleep, in the warm light. Clumps of hair landing on the wine-colored sheet puddled in my lap. Their silver threads. A razor-scrape across the back of my neck and upper shoulders. The whoosh of the vaccuum's scrubby brush. (Like most mammals, I would happily pay double for a brush/trim if it included fifteen minutes of the scrubby brush, or, even better, the coordinated application of the hair-dryer and the scrubby brush).

Neil Wedman's show installed without incident. Jessie Caryl's lucid pithy essay retrieved from the printer. Lighting tweaked, liquor collected, DJ gear assembled. Upcoming: a pure hour of downtime: Anodyne emails; no-limit ring; this video, which puts a lot of so-called "contemporary video art" to shame.

Something like happiness.

(Image: shamelessly pilfered from Pete)
- posted by cjb @ 3:54 PM


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