love zine

Cover Page

Preface

OW

LJ

RDA

AM

JDS

So, I had worked on this zine, rather, potential zine...it never made it out.....but here are the raw pages that i worked on......the pages are quite big....click on the images to read what is written.  You won't regret it.

The premise of this zine was to collect love letters / poems from anyone {but mostly just my friends submitted} and it would be free and kind of like a letter to the universe.  Not the most original idea, I know, but still something that I loved working on and loved the insight into my friends hearts and souls.  Truly stunning in itself.

Holiday Photo Diary

Home

The View

Christmas morning

Sandpaper

heart

tell me something good

 

 

Click

Neko Case

Blue Skies

Earth Hiccups

There Be Real Mountains

In all their glory

Weight

Hockey Nets

The shack that I wish I was in this NYE.....with much wine......and a fire

Closer

Black Crow.....he was fat from all his garbage rummaging

MTL Home

Brody Love

 So much warmth over the holidays.  The distinct reminder of perspective and grounding.  Welcomed with open arms.  Good food.  Incredible people.  Undeniable landscape.  Gifts of love.  Hugs.  Homemade eggnog lattes.  Skiing.  Slurpees.  Flat lands.  Hearts.  Friends.  Truth.  Beauty.

Good Night Sweet Girl

Paul: Supermodels are beautiful girls, Will. A beautiful girl can make you dizzy, like you've been drinking Jack and Coke all morning. She can make you feel high full of the single greatest commodity known to man - promise. Promise of a better day. Promise of a greater hope. Promise of a new tomorrow. This particular aura can be found in the gait of a beautiful girl. In her smile, in her soul, the way she makes every rotten little thing about life seem like it's going to be okay. The supermodels, Willy? That's all they are. Bottled promise. Scenes from a brand new day. Hope dancing in stiletto heels.

Kev: It's a trend in diamonds. Champagne. It's a nice stone.

Willie Conway: Yeah, no, I heard about this. It's a new trend in the diamond trade, they're trying to create a new market.
Tommy: Oh, right, right. yeah. They were callin' 'em "piss", but they weren't moving any units. What's with you, man?
Paul Kirkwood: What?
Tommy: Well, how much you pay for this brown rock?
Paul Kirkwood: What difference does it make?
Tommy: Diamonds are supposed to be colorless! You go out and buy a colored diamond for a girl you're not even seeing, man, you must be eating retard sandwiches again.

Willie Conway: You know how it is, the beginnings? When you first fall in love and you can't eat, you can't sleep and getting a call from her, it makes your day. It's like seeing a shooting star.
Andera: It's the best.
Willie Conway: Yeah, but, inevitably it goes away. It quiets down. So, this is my thing see, why get married now? Why not have two, three more of those beginning things before I, you know, settle into the big fade?
Andera: The big fade, that's a awful way to put it.
Willie Conway: I look at you and I think it's amazing that there's a guy out there gets to do all kinds of things with you. He gets to make you happy and spend evenings with you...
Andera: ...make me martinis, listen to Van Morrison...
Willie Conway: ...smell your skin...
Andera: ...after a day at the beach.
Willie Conway: Yeah, and read the papers...
Andera: ...on a Sunday morning...
Willie Conway: ...a rainy Sunday morning, and pepper your belly with baby kisses... Sorry.
Andera: The thing is, there's a guy out there thinks the same thing about Tracy and he's jealous of you because you get to do all that with her. Willie: Let me ask you something; can you think of anything better than making love to an attractive stranger... with just an oil light to guide your way? Can you think of anything better?
Andera: Going back to Chicago. Ice cold martini. Van Morrison.
Willie Conway: Sunday papers. Got ya.

____________________________________________

Tommy: Can I ask you a question?
Andera: Go ahead.
Tommy: How long have you been going out with you boyfriend?
Andera: Eight months.
Tommy: And it's good?
Andera: It's very good.
Tommy: He makes you happy?
Andera: Yeah. I look for that in a man you know. The ones that make me miserable don't seem to last.
Tommy: Right.
Andera: You know there are fours words I need to hear before I go to sleep. Four little words. "Good night sweet girl." That's all it takes. I'm easy, I know, but a guy who can muster up those four words is a guy I want to stay with.

Willie Conway: I can't play Pooh to your Christopher Robin.

All quotes and most of the pictures were teefed from IMDB.

Beautiful Girls (1996):  this movie came to me by way of a good friend of mine.  Back in the day when I hung out with the drama geeks....they all changed my life.  In most incredible way.  I digress.  The premise of the movie is this:  Timothy Hutton's character, Willie, comes back to his home town for a high school reunion.  He is a struggling musician that is in an internal dilemma about his future.  This small town has all of the elements that make small town/country living amazing.  Everybody knows your name.  Your past does not have a statute of limitations.  Some people are still living in their 'glory days'.  When shit hits the fan, you friends will always back you up.  Even if they don't agree.  But eventually, they tell you the truth.  Straight up.  There seems to be a major lack of that these days it seems.  But I am lucky to have such amazing people in my life.  Not unlike the rich, flawed, incredible characters in this movie. 

The sentiments resonate after all these years for me.  This movie screams 90's, but in the best way possible.  With a soundtrack that would kick the shit out of any droopy, flopsy blockbuster nowadays. It includes: The Rolling Stones, Split Enz, A Flock of Seagulls, Ween, Jethro Tull, Lou Reed, KISS, and Neil Diamond to name a few.

If I can be a little redundant.....

Andera: You know there are fours words I need to hear before I go to sleep. Four little words. "Good night sweet girl." That's all it takes. I'm easy, I know, but a guy who can muster up those four words is a guy I want to stay with.

Preach on sister.  With you all the way.

the Spire of the....

many lights glare
on.
for me.
inviting
inside
except
it feels kind of like
the scary well
in The Rescuers
she sends her down
for the big diamond

not good
contrived
with your grin
like the Cheshire cat
that plots
and diseased with ego
and insecurity
my little pink heart
beats
beats
beats
exploding for love
and imploding for
bullshit

Where Do My Bluebird Fly

So i was introduced to this album recently.  The Tallest Man On Earth.  Shallow Grave.  In particular, the above song....Where Do My Bluebirds Fly.
The intro...the guitar, has an eerie raw twang that overwhelms me with a sense of urgency.  Of heartbreak.  Of saturation.  That line 'I could drown in your kerosene eyes....' brilliant.  It's short and sweet but to the point in a way that cuts.  The lack of production is immense and appropriate.  The lyrics are pointed with these beautifully orchestrated visuals.  Reminds me of fall in the forest.....walking on crunchy leaves.  Bon fires.  Warm cuddles.  Dogs curled up.  Life is easy but heavy and pregnant with thoughts.  Ahh....heavy hearts.  How they hardly ever feel carefree.  Hardly.

Oh, well I knew you shook the set-up baby, of all the leaves up in the ground
And I know our song is over and heavy as I see dry leaves fallin' down, oh
With all this fever in my mind, I could drown in your kerosene eyes
Oh, you're just a riddle in the sky
Oh, where do my bluebirds fly?

And as the early sign of dawn of thunder I see you stir the fog around
And when you find the boys and gears of sunset we'll hear that high and lonesome sound, oh
And I will question every wind if they gone through the glow of your eyes
Oh, you're just a riddle in the sky
Oh, where do my bluebirds fly?
I say where do my bluebirds fly?

Oh, well I know you soak your feathers baby upon the ghosts along my trail
And I know well I was sole and buried before I knew it was for sale, oh
With all this fever in my mind I could aim for your kerosene eyes
Oh, you're just a target in the sky
I say where do my bluebirds fly?
I say where do my bluebirds fly?

Self Mantra

The Myth of Fingerprints

I am a simple amateur photographer. A reclusive one at that. It is far beyond the realm of my understanding or expertise to make any sort of statement based on the beliefs of a subset of an entire gender. However, the rate at which postings I have seen here on tumblr regarding physical imperfections, body image and self-esteem have sky-rocketed of late, I feel an equal increase in my frustration toward the subject at large. As such, I offer those teenagers, girls, women, the following words. Take them as you will, be they even slightly helpful or entirely misguided.


You are not your bra-size, nor are you the width of your waist, nor are you the slenderness of your calves. You are not your hair color, your skin color, nor are you a shade of lipstick. Your shoe-size is of no consequence. You are not defined by the amount of attention you get from males, females, or any combination thereof. You are not the number of sit-ups you can do, nor are you the number of calories in a day. You are not your mustache. You are not the hair on your legs. You are not a little red dress.

You are no amalgam of these things.

You are the content of your character. You are the ambitions that drive you. You are the goals that you set. You are the things that you laugh at and the words that you say. You are the thoughts you think and the things you wonder. You are beautiful and desirable not for the clique you attend, but for the spark of life within you that compels you to make your life a full and meaningful one. You are beautiful not for the shape of the vessel, but for the volume of the soul it carries.

Amen brother.  This truth is something that separates you from all the douchebags that don't agree.
Much love and RESPECT.

Stumbled upon this blog quite by accident.  A simple twist of fate....for a fitting moment in my life and all of the people in my life who can admit to insecurity and self-deprication.
 
The Covetist

The Only Man After My Own Heart

 

Hank Moody



"Just the fact that people seem to be getting dumber and dumber. You know, I mean, we have all this amazing technology, and yet, computers have turned into basically four-figure wank-machines. The Internet was supposed to set us free, democratize us, but-but all it's really given us is Howard Dean's aborted candidacy and 24-hour day access to kiddie porn. People - they don't write anymore; they blog. Instead of talking, they text - no punctuation, no grammer - "lol" this and "lmao" that. You know, it just seems to me that it's just a bunch of stupid people pseudo-communicating with a bunch of other stupid people in a proto-language that resembles more what cavemen used to speak than the King's English."

So, there's this little show called Californication.  My favorite comedy/drama in fact.  And, mostly it's because of David Duchovny's character, Hank Moody.  Wit, charm, humor, charisma, 10 inch cock, adores women, understands true family values and has a daughter that challenges his every fiber.  Daily.  Furthermore, the love of his life, his soul mate, is stunning and incredible.  Karen.  His true counterpart.  She is nothing like him in the sense that she craves monogamy and loyalty in a romantic relationship and he just can't seem to get his shit together.  Which is the most tragic part about their relationship.  Here I have included some of my favorite quotes from the show that spans over three seasons.  I could quote the whole show....but, alas, I have shown restraint and included a handful.....or two.

The show is shameless.  Entertaining.  Lovable.  Easy to fall in love with.  Regardless of the gratuitous sexual references, swearing, lack of traditional family structure, infidelity, drug abuse, alcohol abuse and a ridiculous amount of smoking.  One of the best shows HBO has to offer and the writing is phenomenal.  Seriously.  No matter what state of mind I'm in, I'm always down for a lil fornication....Californication. 

"Hell-A Magazine blog number 1. Hank hates you all. A few things I've learned on my travels through this crazy little thing called life. One, a morning of awkwardness is better than a night of loneliness. Two, I probably won't go down in history, but I will go down on your sister. And 3, while I'm down there it might be nice to see a hint of pubis. I'm not talking about a huge 70's Playboy bush or anything. Just something that reminds me that I'm performing cunnilingus on an adult. But I guess the larger question is why is the city of angels so hell bent on destroying it's female population."


"There's no easy way to say this so I'll just say it, I met someone. It was an accident, I wasn't looking for it, it wasn't on the make, it was a perfect storm. She said one thing, I said another, next thing I knew, I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation. Now there's this feeling in my gut she might be the one. She's completely nuts in a way that makes me smile, highly neurotic with a great deal of maintenance required, she is you, Karen."

"Whatever you do, don't be another brick in the wall."

Hank Moody: 'B' to the 'I' to the double 'L'. What's up, my nig nog?
Bill Lewis: I need to talk to you.
Hank Moody: Well, you should have called. I wouldn't have answered, but you could've left a message, which I would have quickly erased.

"Well, your breasts are obviously real... and... eh... you have an abundance of pubic hair, which is really nice and... eh... there's no evidence of vaginal rejuvenation. I'd say, aside from the fact that you worship a space alien, you just might be the most beautiful woman I've seen in a long, long time..."

"I like to think I have a 12-inch cock, but it doesn't make it so. Two inches shy."

"There is no life without love. None worth having anyway."

Lucid Dream

So, I had the most intense, lucid dream last night that was prefaced by an anxiety attack.  Weeeehooooo.  In said dream I was as above:  a blond, hot, business man.  Sitting in my luxury loft as above.  Laying on my bed contemplating life.  In a room where all the bed linens were white and the wood that surrounded me was chocolate brown.  Stunningly deep.  Polished to a high gloss.  There were multi-layers to this luxury loft that I was in.  The view:  kind of LA-ish.  Beautiful palm trees.  Greenery.  Blue sky. 

And then this sense of urgency came over me.  And all of a sudden, like in an action movie, I flew out of the outlook of my beautiful panoramic view window.  Flying through the air.  Fleeing the scene.  And the only way I can describe my fleeing or the reason for it, the only way i can define it is:  Evil.  It was a person.  Another man.  With dark hair.  He was chasing me.  And the fantastical part about my flying through the air and bounding through buildings and structures, was that it seemed so normal.  So acceptable.

What does this all mean you ask?  No eggnog lattes before bed babies....that's what it means.  And it was DECAF!!!  Muahahahaaaa...

Something Saved My Life Today

Sorel - Joan of Arctic

Yes my babies.....winter is here in fine Montreal, Canada.  It took me an hour and a half to get to work today.  And the only reason that I remotely made it was because of these babies.  All hail the queen of all winter boots:  Sorel:  Joan of Arctic. 

Annie Leibovitz: Life Through A Lens

as some of you may know, i don't have cable.  and now that the snow and cold are starting to kick in, my search for things to watch is in overdrive.  this weekend i managed to watch quite a few movies, but the one in particular that was of impact was the above:  Annie Leibovitz: Life Through a Lens.  it was 99 cents on itunes to rent.  considering, i think that's the best 99 cents i ever did spend. 

to say that she is influential is a vast understatement.  Annie started out being the photo journalist for Rolling Stone magazine.  Bruce Springsteen, Micheal Jackson, The Rolling Stones, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, John Lennon, etc.  and this gained her super stardom, in her own right, on her own terms.

i know everyone and their dog has itunes.  and what is a dollar these days?  my Mom was the one who initially got me into her.  and mostly because of the fact that she used to buy Rolling Stone magazine constantly.  and that there was always Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Bruce Springsteen, The Rolling Stones, Ricki Lee Jones, Elton John, Melanie, etc. playing on the record player while i was still in diapers.   

rant...

here is some of my favorite pictures by Annie Leibovitz.  drool and MUCH respect.  some of the most stunning are the ones of her closest family members and loved ones.  i strongly suggest going out and picking up one of her books.



Willie Nelson



First Daughter, Sarah



Susan Sontag



Great Expectations

Francesco Clemente

there is an incredible
distance between
a man and a woman
one from the ground
the other from the sky
one who lives in water
and the other that lives
in the sky

and their choices
render
them
together
by way of
a bird
and a fish
and their species
sometimes
devour each other
and their little hearts
beat
at an accelerated
pace
whenever
they are within proximity
to each
other
and nothing but obstacles
impede their vision
against a kyanos blue sky

yet

the war that they fight
against themselves
against the world
against injustice
drives them
into each others arms

out of habit
out of necessity
out of travesty
out of truth
out of lies
out of fantasy
out of a dream
out of acceptance
out of exhaustion
out of completion
out of separation
out of

love

which is not to say
that those words
define
that
for
me
but

like rain
they hang onto leaves
and thoughts
and blades of grass
like you hang
onto me
and i feel
your attachment
and my lack
of so
for you

and nothing
but a sad melody plays in my head
when i think of your
disappointing
satisfaction
that felt more like a shrug
rather than
effort
and all your promises
and declarations
that were spurned
from tragic interactions
and scar inducing conversations
which i will
carry
around
like a badge
and that 'melancholy makes me feel so grown-up'
kinda like
a veteran
rather than
someone
who was told
'i love you'

and whenever your name
comes up in conversation
i always look
down
or
off into the distance
for the good of my heart
because i can't look them in the eye
when they ask for an explanation
because i don't have one
they ask
'how did you go from
here to there?'

and all i can say is:
there was no me in us.

{as an aside, the above painting was done by a man by the name of Francesco Clemente.  incredibly talented artist.  he did all of the artwork in the movie 'Great Expectations' with Ethan Hawke and Gweneth Paltrow.  one of my favs.  his work always moves something in me that was unmoved before.  i am always inspired and filled with words by his artistry.  it's quite lovely.  and spacious.  feeling that way these days.  about art.  well, maybe just for today. }

The Cock Thief

David Michael Bowers - The Cock Thief

it's been 6 days
and all my friends
keep sending me love
and hugs
and kisses
and heartfelt
messages:

You should cry. Cry until there's nothing left. And then cry again, and talk to as many people as you want about it and do it over and over again. And don't dare feel bad about it or let anyone make you feel bad about it. We're your friends. That's what we're there for. 

And then when you're ready stop. Remember how awesome you are and put that energy into something good. You've gone through enough shit in life to know what you want and what you deserve and you should never be made to feel bad about that. Never feel bad about the woman that you are: beautiful, strong, kind, and loving. 

When I was interviewed last week, the guy asked me what inspired me. Part of my answer and the part that he didn't publish (i imagine because it didn't have a universal appeal) was that my friend Amanda inspired me every time she talks about love. I meant it too. You've got this understanding of love that not everyone can see or understand, and it's so precious and wonderful that it truly inspiring. So remember that when you feel sad. 

Love

this incredible word
that navigates my world
whether i like it or not
i have no choice

rather.....

Dear Universe:
please send me a man
who is not afraid to be one
who is strong enough
for my big love
big feelings
big heart
who will help this little girl
not to fear him
who will
not fuck it up
who will
know what it all means
who will
want
to know what it all means
who will help me
sing my song
who will hum
the tune to himself
all day long
in secret
who will bring me
lavender
and
tcby
when it's
that time of the month
and dress me in soft
fabrics
to take me to the
drive-in
and we will
fight with passion
and laugh with rage
and when he lay me down
cradle
my heart
with the utmost care
and his heart will be kind
and his eye will be sharp
to notice
when my soul
carry
a heavy load
from
the lifetime
of aches
and memories
to notice
the way i look at children
with stars in my eyes
for their innocence
and their free speech
and their ability
to always look up
and he will know enough
to give me one
for Valentine's Day
he will have one green eye
and one blue
one to match the sky
and one to match mine
when i cry

and although
he doesn't exist
pieces of him
have
in me
in you
in them
and that is hope enough
for me to follow down
this dreamy dream