Saturday, April 19, 2008


that's right. you heard me. komakino.

ground below zero. temple guard dog. extreme edge.


sara found out about this place, and led us through gastown to a gallery.
and through the gallery to a stairwell
leading down
to one of the best edited stores for men i've ever seen.
gold walls with black and white "lookbook" shots for everyone from
raf simons to ric owens to kiminori morishito:

the owner's frenchie actually sits in the sun UNTIL customers go downstairs, then he follows.

the latest looks are taped elegantly (you heard me, don't question my choice of wording.)
to the walls across from the racks:

some of us made quite an impression:

some of us barely made it out alive:

(hopefully this offsets some of the more serious posts of recent weeks. i know there were some requests for "more fashion/handbag/porn", less "introspective rambling". though that will return as well.)

Friday, April 18, 2008

the girls of british columbia -

ok, not exactly locals.

ok, they are all imported.

but they all look good to me.

even the boyz up here are cute:

Thursday, April 17, 2008

grafitti (to the nth degree) -

this has nothing to do with anything,
other than i screamed out "PULL THE VAN OVER"
and ran out and started snapping pictures.

best. grafitti. slash. art. ever.

backstreet's back, oh yeah -

i can't really explain it,
but we're a little obsessed with the backstreet boys right now.

you know.

cause that's just the shape of our heart.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

vancouver. you know, up north-ish -

ah, the crisp, refreshing air of the pacific northwest,
home to lumberjacks, and mounties,
and assorted other flannel clad masculine stereotypes that i keep waiting to run into up here, but am not.

cruel pacific northwest.

as you can tell, the air is clean, the mountainsides snow-capped and, you know,
and all is still on the brink of spring.

we have decided to take advantage of the weather and the scenery to do several
nature hikes in the region:

connie has been doing a very very good job of collecting local specimens,
she has been particularly focused on categorizing the fauna from the flora.

i love this shot. it's so representative of the locals' love of the great outdoors,
and the essential joie de vivre all vancouverians have.

or something.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

to quote janet -

Ooh baby, anytime my world gets crazy
All I have to do, to calm it
Is just think of you.

'Cause when I think of you, baby
Nothin' else seems to matter
'Cause when I think of you, baby
All I think about is our love.

(my thanks to ms. jackson. cause she nasty.)

Monday, April 14, 2008

sorry about that (part the second) -

deep breath, we're going in for more . . .

2) to my grandfather, robert:

sorry for the fact that i couldn't say anything to you that time i drove you to your doctor's appointment when you were dying of leukemia, and told me that you were in so much pain you really just wanted to let go.

i was too young to really "get" that you were maybe telling me that you were ready, that you were calm about it, that you were tired. i was twenty. you had always been my rock, stronger than any man i knew, gruffer and smarter than any human i had ever been near, and perhaps, an idol for me.

we had spent so much of our life talking, that i was stunned that i didn't have anything to say.

when i was so young and you would walk with me through those winding roads on st. croix, where you and nana had that home at the top of the island and looked out across the sunsets and the sea, where nana thought she saw the UFO that one night and you backed her your entire life "if ellen says she saw it, it was there", who would hold my tiny hand on the beaches of that island, or on the streets of manhattan, the other island, and talk to me about what was going on in your life, and ask about mine, as if it mattered. i'm sorry, it did, i guess. it did to you.

you gave me words, you know that? you gave me The Source by Michener, and Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, when i was ten. "read them every three years, they'll remind you", and though you never told me WHAT they would remind me of, i have read them every three years since i was ten. you probably gave me the need to write, to talk, to babble and rant and love the caress of language.

so when all words failed me, i felt like i failed you.

but i love you. did then. do still.

and i know you didn't need me to tell you that.


just wanted you to know.