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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
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With the new apt, I'm finding myself making more and more trips to the locker, looking to free up various of my possessions & ornaments, while the flat may only last 6 months, I want it to be a comfortable 6 months.
The locker, Stygian, boxes piled high and falling on my head, stereos, boxes of cuff-links raining down, watches in chests, a surprising number of chests, trunks and suitcases for somebody with no discernible organizational skills. It's like, in a way, attending the best garage sale ever, in every box a forgotten treasure or surprise, but inaccessibly packed beneath, behind another, art supplies - paints, easels, mixed media Starbucks cards, buttons, postage stamps, postcards, boxes of vintage neckties, buckets of rocks, prospecting equipment, stray pots and pans, working my way to the back where - if I can reach it - I can free up a few paintings to ornament my walls.
I'm within 5 feet, but it's a towering 5 feet, dozens of boxes will have to be moved to the apartment, reorganized, repacked, and the last 3 lean years, with no more possessions than I could fit in my car, well, they've made me question the necessity of storage, this endless acquisition of momentarily useless clutter, my thoughts are broken by the distant tinkle of glass as another box shifts, ...
It's Aladdin's cave, in a way, and in another less subtle way it's become the metaphor for my subconscious, the unending work of organization, editing, cleaning and purging, and it scares me almost as much as 2 hits of acid at clown and puppet festival, but I'll get it done...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
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And my first find, a chair at thrift shop, $15.00. Perfect, comfortable, not too fine, not too shabby.
And, upon loading it up and getting it into the place, a drive around the block turns up a perfectly fixable antique oak desk:
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We're off to a good start...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
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It's been a week since I last went out to eat, surviving on leftovers and handfuls of nuts and berries. Getting ready for prospecting.... Today I'm a bit hungry, but there's a problem, the Indian curry shop I frequent is next to the hairdressers.
Alberto's or Alfredo's, I don't know which, but I stopped by there a couple of times and got my haircut. Alfredo/Alberto - a short, muscular greek/spaniard/??, thick accent, long permed hair, mullet in front, lisps his words as he massages my scalp, tells me not to stand under the shower, that's why it's thinning on top, too much water, he explains, will kill your hair just like it will kill the grass...
I wonder, especially as I have to duck in the shower to wash my hair, and the hair on my ears is growing in at a record rate (I have an ear-to-ear combover planned in the next couple of years, not long now...)
His haircuts, they're OK, he's very meticulous, but somehow they always seem to grow out in a couple of weeks and I find myself needing another. SO I give up, go to Jen, dire salon in the NE of Calgary close to my thrift shop tour, Jen, a huge girl, 6' tall, 300 lbs, covered in tatoos and piercings, but she's quick, no BS, in-and-out with the haircut you wanted...
And with the haircut I wanted I can't walk past Alfredo's/Alberto's, walk instead around the block, approach it from another angle, eat, but on the exit he's there, outside the salon, having a cigarette, he just looks at me sadly as I guiltily hurry past...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
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Almost forgot I was young once, until the brother hauled up a couple of vintage pictures of me from the basement. From when I was 21, living in London...the squatters life...
Hiking around Glencoe with Stephane...Always the rain...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
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Now the secret-Santa at work fell through, which was a shame as I'm a fan of giving gifts and all, so I took it upon myself to conduct my own secret-Santa and chose "Ben", a dishwasher/assistant chef at work to be the recipient of my gift.
Now store-bought gifts are great, but given the choice I'd choose a handmade one any day of the week. I decide to inflict my values upon Ben. Ben is 24 yrs old, about 5'3", lives at home in his Mom's basement, and tells me the most inappropriate stories of his sex life. Like how his girlfriend wanted to spice things up and be "punished" and so he took her to his parents bedroom and did it there..."Wasn't sleeping with you punishment enough?" I ask, he's not so impressed...
Anyways, this is how the legend of "Ben the Punisher is born". For Xmas I made him a diorama, I could have continued it and made it even more detailed, but then I might have fallen prey to his demented perversity. I preserved the ratio of heights to Ben (Waitresses approximately 6-9" taller).
Converting an old electric fireplace/heater into a diorama, I created Ben's Basement, see photos below.
The short he-man is Ben (Notice carefully crafted whip), the hanging nude barbie is a waitress I work with, and the Elmo in Bondage is another dishwasher who looks remarkably like Elmo (but strangely resents my pointing it out...).
Ben Punishing the waitress...
A view of the other corner of the basement, where his next victim (another waitress) awaits her turn with Ben the Punisher. Note the horrified look on Elmo's face.
IN the end he wasn't so impressed, took out the dolls and chucked them, and gave the fireplace to his girlfriend to use as a bedside table. I didn't tell him about all the dismembered barbies I coated with blood and placed beneath the cellar floor. It should be amusing when she finds them.
***
Despite a couple of the waitresses declaring it to be "The Best Christmas Present Ever...", it was a lot of effort wasted on a rather unappreciative audience. In future I think I'll sell my artwork on Etsy and use the proceeds to buy people the store-bought Christmas gifts they so crave...