Load-bearing ideation

Ever since I got into Hofstader and Robert Anton Wilson as a teenager, I’ve been pretty much crazy for isomorphisms, both tight (highly conformal) and poetic (suggestive of tone and insight, rather than specifics of relationship). There really doesn’t seem to be


I also do birthday parties

I’ve always been curious about experimenting with form in every way I can – I also like to try to impart some spirit of play, to go with explanations or explorations – heavy ones especially. It’s well known that brains learn better


Just a room

Back in the mid-eighties, when I was still a bit of a waif, I had a weekly improvised-music session in my little basement flat, with the much older, brilliant, and incomparably determined free-improvising saxophonist, Maury Coles. We were often joined by one


Playground perfection

I hope my friends have gathered by now that I can be relied upon to offer cheer, in (roughly) equal measure to the heavy stuff (and neither, trivially). This is an example of recent wonderful achievement so nearby that we could almost


Never gets old

Catherine and Nada will both tell you – I am a bit of an ornery old cuss. I don’t just go along with stuff because everyone else is doing it, I make my own call. No, I don’t want to be a

Not a point but a process

I can also do simple – and admire the aesthetic greatly.  Here I’m treating one of my most important recurrent themes for poetry and essays both – the idea that we aren’t frozen-mass sculpture, but always-changing and dynamic music. So many things


Worst job, best attitude

Came across this rather lovely double-Aesop the other day.  First we have the “I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet” thing, in terms of jobs – no matter how frustrating your gig, it


The light and what it weighed to him

I hope many of my friends were able to see the incredible Turner show at the AGO. The combination of the show and the recent biographical movie made a strong impression on me.  (Two previous posts on this) Looking at his work

Nostalgic urban wonder

The last best hope for breakfast To list the iconic Toronto greasy spoons which are no more, or now mere sad shells of their formerly glorious selves would take ages and make everyone sad (me especially). However, this mighty stalwart, the good

The picture is fruit

Or, put another way I might alternately have called this one my creative resume.  I maintain to this day that aside from wonderful time with those we love, art is one of the very few truly empirically-unwasted ways to spend a day