Soft Hands and Wild Onions

11 02 2018

Hallidd's Weblog

I’m going in for the nuclear stress test to check out my arteries. It stresses me out. I hate being reminded that I am temporary.

This piece was commissioned as a painting on the side of a van for a social agency that aided children. It wasn’t used. I wasn’t paid.

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Don’t Fall Asleep In A Flower Bed

11 02 2018

Hallidd's Weblog

The lady looks like my grade 3 teacher. The one sleeping is me.

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Go lightly on the ledge

11 02 2018

Hallidd's Weblog

Go lightly on the ledge. Go lightly on the ground. (Dylan lyrics)  This piece reminds me of my 5th year in high school. (There were 5 years then). I was having a physical/emotional breakdown. Problem was no one noticed. Not even me. I had a dozen or so notebooks filled with poetry and drawings. I can remember experimenting with sounds so that the pages were filled with my interpretation of guitar riffs. The rest of the work were terrible impressions of dylanesque like poetry. At the end of the year when I survived, I took all those notebooks into the backyard and burnt them. While they lay there, the smoke rising into the blue sky, the pages curled up into evil smiles. And I swear they were laughing at me.

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One big ball of wax

11 02 2018

Hallidd's Weblog

Everyone has an uncle who is the family fool. At almost every family gathering he does goofy things that make everyone laugh. None of my uncles were like that. My aunts laughed just the same.

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Bowling as a terrorist act

11 02 2018

Hallidd's Weblog

They say that bowling is one of the worst things you can participate in if you are attempting to ward off dementia. I suppose Columbine was an example of that. It makes one wonder about the 911 terrorist’s last moments of relaxation. Were they playing hearts? And what did Hitler do to ward off boredom in those tedious hours in his bunker? Evil and the mundane walk hand in hand. As do virtue and the mundane. I don’t know what any of this means. Except that my mind turns around odd corners when it is bored.

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The smell of her…

11 02 2018

Hallidd's Weblog

I created this for my first girlfriend. (Years after our breakup) Her name was Marianne Johnston. I was crazy about her. But I wanted to go off to sea. And find my fortune. Or some story closely related to that. What all young men want to do when they are full with life and themselves. She was the first girl I made laugh. She wore a particular kind of perfume and I can remember one day, years after we had separated, and I was at a party. And I smelled her perfume. It was as if I had been transported back a decade. I was sure she was in the room. I looked around. She wasn’t there. Nor could I locate the source of the perfume. I can remember feeling suddenly very sad.

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Hollyhocks

11 02 2018

Hallidd's Weblog

When I was a wee boy I loved hollyhocks and daisys. Daisys because they reminded me of a weed. And hollyhocks because they grew so high and resembled a small tree. I also liked dandelions and sunflowers. I remember picking dandelions on the way home from school and presenting them to my mother. She always seemed delighted. And immediately put them in a vase.

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