Classic

Beauty & The Beast

Architectural beauty in the shadow of one of advertising's henchmen.

Raise a, er, plastic container

Ruby, ignoring her expensive doggy toys in favour of an old plastic container...

Tibet

Let me just say that an Olympic boycott against the Beijing Games would be delicious. (Not that it is EVER going to happen in light of the economic strength of China). Certainly since both Kissinger and Trudeau put their heads up Mao's ass (on separate occasions, of course) there has been a real need for the West to treat China's political leadership in a way fitting the murderous bastards.

In any event, whether Tibet is rightfully part of China or not really is moot at the moment -- so long as the Maoist regime continues to hold grip on China, not even China should be left to the present style of government there, let alone have a sovereignty question be answered with the Spawn of Mao regime involved.

A couple of shots from a pro-Tibet (really an anti-China) rally at the Ontario Legislature on Sunday.

Bricks

A couple of walls on Queen St. East, south side between Sherbourne and Berkley streets in Toronto.

49 Is the New Old

St. Paddy's also marked the date I turned 49 years of age. I suppose if I were to keel today the obit would indicate I am IN my 50th year. I really must get back to healthy eating and some bit of an exercise regime.

A friend from Brandon (thanks, Steven) sent me a few photos in an email birthday wish. One is attached.

Here I would be less than 25, more than 21. The photo contains nice markers of my life from that period -- note the cowboy boot, as I lived in Western Canada. Note the running shorts as I was distance running then. Note the cocktail glass, as that will be gin and pink lemonade almost certainly (at a time when a bit of mix wasn't thought by me to ruin the perfectly good alcohol). Oh, and clearly my hatred of shaving and my disappointment with a weak chin came together most vigorously in some modest facial hair. Hey, it was the early '80s; memories of the Bee Gees were not distant.

Behind me is the wall of 17 Alpine Bay, the townhouse I shared with many roommates at once; all of us worked together. There are several short stories on that address, if I was still so inclined.

(There is another photo which my friend forwarded, over which I shall now ponder as to whether to share at this blog for the delight of others and embarrassment of self. We'll see.)

Happy St. Patrick's Day (tomorrow, I think)

It is advised that you please consult your local priest or other RC liturgical consultant for what is and what is not allowed around the celebration (certainly the timing) of the feast of St. Patrick, this year. Or you can screw that and just celebrate all that is Irish and as spring fresh as a shamrock.

Formal Portrait Lighting

I noticed Ruby sitting basking in what was traditional natural portrait light so thought I'd grab a photo -- plus she just survived (and that conclusion was close, indeed -- what trauma!!) her first bath here and is looking quite her best here. I'm also thinking this shot displays her half-'stache very well.

Canadian Residential Schools

The first shame I ever felt as a Canadian related to learning of (and then reading voraciously about) Canada's treatment of our own citizens (and otherwise) through the establishment of interment camps for Canadians of Japanese descent and Japanese nationals who were making Canada their home when Japan entered WWII. Simply, we collectively robbed people of their possessions (homes, businesses, property), split up families and stuck 'em in prisoner of war camps in the name of national security.

I bring that up, as a shame of wider (not greater, for shame is surely not comparative in determining depth ) scope was certainly ignored, other than some minor history text acknowledgment of the existence of Canada's system of residential schools for Native Canadians. our aboriginal peoples, until relatively recently. Simply, we dragged children (in great numbers) from their parents in order to civilize them, beat them out of their beliefs and languages, bugger them, diddle them, and kill them (in great numbers) and bury them, many in unmarked graves. Oh, we didn't forget to make them eat their own shit when they were bad (bad meant weeping for their lost families or speaking their native language) It was a nice collaborative effort too -- organized by governments; operationalized by the sadistic churches and an unimaginative bureaucracy.

The kicking and screaming and defensive nature of governments and their henchmen in this mess, Christian churches in this country, has only added to the shame as the tragedy gets more light and begins to focus on the victims not the process or fiscal implications of the nightmare. The most pathetic irony is most certainly church cries that to pay (more, or adequate) compensation will bankrupt the churches. Sounds good to me. Government should consider that to raise dollars for its paltry court ordered compensation levels it could always begin to tax the churches and apply those monies....

Anyway, these pictured protesters are at a United Church of Canada franchise at Queen & Jarvis streets on Sunday. They were asked to leave the church, they asked to speak to parishioners during the service and were refused, they left the church and the cops were called.

This is not about guilt, btw. I feel no guilt about the crimes committed against Aboriginal Canadians. I do, as a citizen of this country however, assume my responsibility in wanting and advocating for justice to be done, punishment meted out, and (real) compensation paid.

Cherubim sans shovels

John Borg

Captured here is Antinous 2 from John Borg's new works' show at O'Connor Gallery in Toronto. This is one of the strongest shows I have seen in some, some time. My love of the figurative..., well, there are glorious non-figurative works to be seen in this show -- don't miss the view of Athens or the olive grove. Or the most interesting (and beautiful) painting of the Pantheon you've seen.

John's works can be seen at this website: johnborg.com

(This might have been a better painting if it had incorporated a small mostly black puppy!)

Surrender

Ruby was shown all the photos being posted of her on this blog -- her reaction was collapse with just enough strength to raise one paw in a signal of surrender on behalf of my readers/viewers...

(Photo by He Who is Now Landed.)

New Toy Tired Theme

Yah, yah, another puppy photo -- I haven't had a moment to point the camera at anything but the pooch, so give me a break.

I had a long chat with Ruby and believe she is now convinced this rope toy is in fact my most expensive pair of sneakers...

Spin

Due to an overwhelming groundswell of support in opposition to my earlier email suggesting a self-imposed prohibition of Rube-ster photographs here, said earlier email suggestion is rescinded and herein please find more photographs of Ms. Ruby (aka Rube-ster, Ruby-Q, Ruby-ness, Rubes, Ruby-doo, Roooobeeeeeee).

Can you tell I'm in PR? I could have said all of that by pointing out the earlier blog entry was a lie.

In these shots, despite the apparent rude gesture nature of the one photo, Ruby is in the midst of her mother's favourite game, and clearly what Ruby is growing to love: chasing one's own tail.

Ruby attended her first puppy school class last night. She has already figured out the sit, stand, down commands -- but is a VERY long way from doing said commands in the absence of a treat reward.

She cried still last night, but mostly quietly enough that I drifted in and out of sleep. We are a bit tired.

Okay, I'll stop.

For reasons that stem from, just how many photographs of one puppy, marked by the dog aging by simple hours," can one take?, to the photographer has taken a memo out to self titled, "Learn Pet Photography," I will resist more Ruby shots. But, before that prohibition starts I offer these noise riddled aerial shots of the new hound.

(And, no kidding, except for the cuteness of the subject perhaps, these photographs suck!)

Warning!

That's right, I'm a man with a dog, AND a blog and camera. Pretty much the 21st C. version of the parent with a wallet, or '70s slide carousel, full of pictures of the new baby who traps you at work or the end of a dinner at their home...

In much less than 24 hours I've already been brought to a weepy stage a few times watching and interacting with Ruby. Her crying herself to sleep last night was... It is amazing the noises sadness can bring forth. More importantly the sad whining lasted maybe 15 minutes total before she went to sleep!! :) This thus avoiding in her adults the need, borne of a sleepless night, to throttle the sweet darling :) In fact, it was ME who had to wake HER up at 6 this morning! But most of the emotionally overwhelming moments are not the result of sad moments like the lonely cries last night, but just moments of pure puppy poignancy and trust.

In both photos, Ruby sleeps (she's an eyes-open sleeper; and a big dreamer -- in fact, she's herding fish off the Portuguese coast at this very moment, kicking her legs as she sleeps at my feet); one shot she's with her sheep toy -- the same toy that Ruby's mother nearly disemboweled and de-limbed during a few moments of "get mommy's spit all over the toy" incident :)

She is thus far a remarkably laid back dog, quiet in all ways -- although she did bark at Bob Rae's canvassers who came to the door; obviously has difficulty with Party jumpers...

A homecoming

I've learned already that photographing a mostly black dog with black eyes has some considerable challenges. Like capturing any details, for example :)

Ruby is home. She liked her first romp in some snow, but preferred to wait until we got inside to pee on the warm floor :)