Sunday, May 23, 2010
Story in the current issue of Drum. They have changed Interval to Front Row. I don't mind the name change and I like that they are covering more arts, but I really liked the old font. The new look is all blocky and bold.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Sunday, May 09, 2010
At an outdoor tapas bar. Perfect day. Good food and good wine. The Dreaded One (because of her fluro dreadlocks) and I are discussing moving to another city because we are bored with this one. It sounds simple enough, but the more we think about it, the more there is involved. Stuff. There is so much stuff. Stuff to get rid of, stuff to keep in storage, stuff we just don't know what to do with. Stuff to think about. Future stuff. Past stuff. The more we discuss the more stuff unfolds before our eyes. Fractals within fractals of stuff.
Mostly, we are in agreement about the stuff to keep and the stuff to get rid of. Until we get to our dining table. It's a big old wooden thing full of character and with a long history. Tears have been shed at this table. Arguments won and lost. Meals have been shared, wine has been drunk, laughter has spilled. Fierce tournaments of chess and Connect Four have been fought at this table. It is a nice table that The Dreaded One wants to keep and I want to get rid of.
“But I love that table,” she says.
“I like it too,” I reply. “But I think we should get rid of it and get something new.”
“It's always bothered me a bit. Haven't you ever noticed that it's a bit too tall for the chairs? Everyone says the same thing. It's just that little bit too tall... makes everyone feel like they're a kid sitting at the grown up's table.”
She concedes that this is true. And because she has given a little, I give a little too.
“If you like it that much, I suppose we could keep it. We just need to shorten it a bit. Just take a bit off the legs to drop it to the right height.”
“We'd have to get someone who knows what they're doing though.”
I'm a bit hurt by this. “How hard could it be? It's just sawing a few centimetres off each leg. I can do that.”
She smiles. “Imagine if you got it wrong. Imagine if one leg was a bit shorter than the rest.”
“I wouldn't do that. I'd just measure all -”
She giggles. “And then you have to saw off the other legs a bit more. And then you get it wrong again and one leg is stilll shorter than the others...” She is laughing now. She's really getting into this. “And then you keep trying to fix it by cutting the legs shorter and shorter and suddenly our dining table is a coffee table...”
Apparently this is the funniest thing ever, because she is rolling about laughing and making little tiny gestures with her thumb and forefinger. Apparently the idea of me doing a little manual handiwork is comedy gold.
Mind you, the night before I had decided to re-arrange the sound system. She was on her way out when I was moving the decks and the amp. I had joked about wiring stuff up the wrong way. By the time she came back, neither of the speakers were working and the amp smelled of burning.
Maybe we'll just keep our bit-too-big table after all.
Monday, May 03, 2010
It just doesn't happen often enough.