has thou forsaken me? I wanted a grocery store
and you gave me the West Edmonton Mall. I wanted Tim
Horton and you gave me Wayne Gretsky. I wanted a walk
in the sun and you gave me 40 below. I wanted Johnny
Cash, but K D Lang emerged from the snow.
At least there's a Starbucks to seduce our nerve endings.
MORE IS COMING. DAMN! BE PATIENCE!
Wall of Eyes is located in a nondescript elbow of scenic
downtown Edmonton. It's across the street from a Police
Station - somewhere between Big Buildings and Eternal Skating
An inspiring and lucrative theme, despite its naivety.
A pondering question-mark placed at the "doorway to the soul".
KStar25, at left,
flaunts his hotmail, so here
it be. Drop him an offering, perhaps some coffee to
warm those numb stumps on a February day.
The theme of EYES is more than fascinating. Ever stand in a lineup at Safeway and notice that no one looks
in anyone else's eyes, except for brief moments? Try this:
silence your internal dialogue and look into someone's eyes in
silence for 10 minutes.
Tell me what you feel.
for a different city, oh for a new season. Oh for
eyes that looked somewhere else, except at me. Except through
me. Except deeply into my private alleyway of pains &
fears and distrust. I pretend so hopelessly on the surface
that I am "real". I pretend to "belong"
to god-knows-who and god-knows-what.
I don't belong to myself. That is the fear of eyes-looking-into-eyes-looking-into-eyes.
Shall we change the subject, my nervous little Poodles?
a town of slim pickings at the best of times. You gotta
live the prairies to know the prairies, and it ain't not instant
gratification. It's a slow season of growing children, playing
monopoly, staring at the moon thru triple-glazed windows.
More about People than it is art, the flatlands demand
a decade of cultivation before the desert crocus croaks.
Music is here, but you gotta burrow.
Murals count, even if they're Sally-Anne Murals. The
great waste-basket of day-old goods, the Sally rarely gets the
respect it deserves. Countless others have helped countless
others in the humble intestines of these factories of servitude.
Their artwork, although pedestrian in nature illustrates a rarely-found
quality in this age of self-serving styrofoam: generosity and
giving. Think about it next time you look in someone's