For Lack of a Recent Update

Realized, based on a few recent questions from folks I haven't seen in a while that a job status update is required.

It's been well over three months since I departed employment ways with Great Big College Inc. Not, at an important job environment level of particular importance to me (ah, sanity!), a very good experience for me at all. Let's leave it at that, shall we? And to say, there are individuals there who made the year so, so very bearable amid the confusing, anger prompting hell. And those folks I miss along with an awful lot of what could have been.

In that job's stead I have taken a giant leap further from Bay St. (see earlier blogs about leaving Great Big Accounting Inc.) and am parked in a job, that I can say I honestly am loving, with a large charity. More about the experience so far in a future blog, but I am still a bit flabergasted that one can have employment and not awake filled with dread at the prospect of attending the place of said employment. Still haven't figured out precisely what makes that distinction so concrete, but more as that gels.

For a Lack of Therapy?

As part of Toronto's Nuit Blanche, last evening, a young woman, dressed in white bride's attire, was dragging or slinging over her shoulder, a real, partially skinned, not eviscerated, goat or lamb carcass up and down Church St.

The dragging/slinging was, apparently (as I witnessed her parking with the meat a couple of times), stopped in favour of, on one occasion, highly attentive massaging of the dead beast's liver, drawn from its visceral cavity, but still attached by whatever tissue keep's one' liver attached, and a sensuous arm insertion into the corpse via a butcher's incision in the region once dedicated not to invasion but for the beast's waste evacuation.

My art snobbery kicks into high gear for most all "contemporary" or "experimental" art but I am vigorous in ensuring I don't suggest it should not be explored and pursued. In the example of the dead goat with bride installation it didn't occur to me to want to have the "performance" stopped -- I just moved on (that she wandered ahead of me resulted in my second sighting). What did occur to me is that while it could have been or not have been art, it was just disturbing but in a way that as far as I experienced (because I have nothing at all against disturbing art--indeed He Who is Here Now would suggest I'm drawn to the disturbing in art) was utterly devoid of any hint of the (healthy) human experience.

For Lack of Words

A snail on a milkweed pod on the Leslie St. spit.

A vine on the down-river facing wall of the former mill (now a hotel with sub-par vittles) in Elora.

Spit

These photos are two strides west of shite technically, but the subject is a saviour enough in this instance that I post them here.

This beautiful red hawk was chasing mice on the Leslie St. spit this morning.

If you want, you can review the photos to discover where Nikon's incredible autofocus technology has actually provided the sharpest focus (e.g. not on the bird) because the operator was too busy trying to capture this magnificent creature to remember the AF had been left at a setting more fitting for dead-still architecture...

I've just discovered the Leslie St. spit. Still confused how I ran all those miles in this city and never made it out onto the spit until last weekend.

If you go, go early (gates open at 9 a.m.) before the rest of the city arrives in roller blades, running shoes or the seats of bikes.