Ambitious Plateau

Skin Tight Pants

...from the same garage sale, ironically. Perfect for summer.

Brand New Game

Snagged this classic at a recent garage sale.

The Light's On

It is here, in the fogginess between deep slumber and wakefulness that the ambiguity lies. Becoming increasingly lucid, I redevelop my surroundings and recollect myself, instinctively abandoning what residue is left of my preceding dreamscape. The first naked strokes of light break through and turn on another day. No surprises, nothing to be revealed.

Tour: Day Two

Cashing cheques and breaking necks
Driving along the coast leaves one susceptible to temptations...

Art Show

These are some of my illustrations that are going to be at the Jane Roos Gallery (Toronto) from August 9 - 27.

My Car

Still Lions

You Are Here from Cos Sylvan on Vimeo.

Wisdom of the unhurried

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shizo_Kanakuri

Diplomacy

All political matters should be dealt with through chess.

Moose . . . Indian . . .

Henry David Thoreau (July 12, 1817 - May 6, 1862), known by his philosophical friends as the "Kosher Camper" allegedly spoke the words "Moose, Indian" to cap off a life full of wisdom which also included sayings such as, "a man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone". Why these words in particular were his final, puzzles some, while to others it makes perfect sense. Unfortunately, because the context in which the words were spoken is unknown, it is impossible to know the intended meaning, though speculation leads to a number of different interpretations. Thus, a list of possible scenarios in which these words may have emerged, has been compiled:

1. Thoreau was in the midst of a wooded glen with his pup when he spotted an unusual animal, which at first he thought was a moose, and then an Indian, right before he was suddenly struck by one of those fabled Chupacabra's. His body was found seemingly unharmed, save for two bite marks and the fact that it had been drained of all its blood.

2. Thoreau was playing Pictionary with some friends, and becoming overly excited while attempting to guess at Ralph Waldo Emerson's strange rendition of a tea kettle, he lost consciousness.

3. Thoreau was looking out on Walden Pond and as he realized the true nature of his existence and the oneness of the universe, all the fragments of his life flashed before himself, with only two symbolic words able to escape his lips, as he slipped into ethereal dreams.

Amid the blaze of noon

The Angry Radio

I never fully understood how something like radio worked, but I always thought of it as an outpost of sorts, transmitting sound as directed from a greater source, not associated with any particular voice. With much skepticism, however, I've learned that one, known as the "Angry Radio", is genuinely distinct from all other radios- surely an anomaly of the production-line.

It began on the evening I purchased the thing, a few months back. I thought (as it later proved against my better judgement) it would be nice for my family to sit together and listen to the nighttime music programs. To our astonishment, what came out of the radio when I turned the knob was not music or someone else's voice altogether, but its own! Imagine how we all felt watching this box, disconnected from all other radios as well as the concept of radio, speak to us- a box engineering its own sound and thoughts right here in our living room! Fixated, all we could do was listen, but as it turned out, all it needed was a listener. It broadcasted its sentiments, and if I say so, it seemed awfully emotional for a radio.

Feeling the absurdity of the situation bear down, I removed the radio's plug from the wall (something it did not need anyways), and escorted it out of the room where the two of us had one of the strangest conversations of my life. It told me that every night from now onward our family would hold the responsibility of listening to it vent the contents of its mind, which have so long been troubling it, and in exchange for that attention, it promised to tell the most magnificent of story's. It said, "why have to listen to the same crap everyone else has to listen to when I can accommodate your personal entertainment needs?" This seemed like a fair compromise. It did however threaten that failing to help it may result in a series of misfortunes.

I figured it would be kind to agree and listen to the radio as its vehemence in having a listener was quite moving. We did this for a month straight every night, all of us gathering around it, intently trying to figure out how this was possible. Most nights it was very pleasant; fanciful stories were told of its inception and upbringing (which I refuse to reveal as a promise made to myself, regarding safety) that I'd never imagine would be events a radio could participate in, let alone communicate with such subjectivity. It did express gratitude towards us for having it, as many of his previous owners did not show the same care.

One night, curiousity brimming the cusp of irrationality, the children chose to investigate the radio, dissecting its inner-workings, looking for a mouth or brain or anything somewhat human. When I saw the wires and wooden bits strewn over the floor as if someone had taken a hammer to it, I panicked, fearing the misfortunes it had alluded to (I had speculated the reasons why previous owners had abandoned it). Luckily I was able to put it back to its original state, but it immediately bursted with an alarming cry, quite opposite to its usually tender voice, and ranted on the great discomfort it had just been put through, as if having been reminded of some childhood horror.

After that incident its mood seemed to be in constant flux; we not longer gathered around formally to listen to it, but just heard it murmuring to itself as we passed by in the hall, or occasionally sat down to chat, which I think it appreciated. At nights I was often awoken by its chilling moans for salvation. Feeling the radio had run its course with our family, the children not longer intrigued by the novelty of it (and often frightened by its tone), I tried, with much difficulty, to get it to consider being returned to the store. It would not comply. Arguing with it for over a week, I found myself going to bed each night trying to formulate the best argument for the next day, while (I presume) it stayed up all night. I expressed that this house was no longer an appropriate means of consolation for its hardships (which at times seemed inexhaustible); he pleaded that he would only become more miserable if forced to leave and begin "the process" all over again. It then went into a torpor of silence - an unsettling characteristic to observe of a radio.

The above picture of me holding the seemingly ordinary device, was taken by my wife just before our eventually agreed upon resolution. To my knowledge it remains to this day at the bottom of the ocean, and sailors have often remarked at hearing crackling voices as they pull into the shore.

Night Walks

Even in the vacuum of space I feel I could not possibly conceive complete silence, for in my ears the sounds of titans clashing never seems to dissipate.
- Dunwerther, Edgar Von. Vienna, Austria. 1805.

Lampshade

I tried to peer into my kitchen,
unsuccessfully.
I was probably hungry.

The further part of the room
lost its solidity
and merged with the
shadows of its contents
in the glow
of the side table lamp,
struggling to extend
past the length
of its diminishing fringe.

I heard what sounded like
a thousand ships sinking:
the furnace in conjunction with
the sea,
that dripped from
my broken faucet
in between long intervals
when it rushed out
and brimmed the tub.

The activity of Sound
against Time.

The artificial light
of the bulb
that simmered
in the space between
the lampshade;
filtering,
always about to fail,
peeking through its
night-time veil,
sticking to the
pages of my books,
dimming the unnaturally white walls...

New light entered,
old light receded.

Vat 73

The use of electromagnetic radiation is a relatively safe form of scientific inquiry, depending upon the purpose as well as the methods of which one uses in their pursuits...
- Reebitz, Alman "C", Dr. (Theoretical Physicist). Berlin, 1900.

Trailblazer In Space

I think I'm ready. - Ham "Sandwich" Stephenson (Trailblazing Space Chimp)

The persistence of motion