Author: foxtongue

My tweets

My tweets

Continue reading “My tweets”

Mike & Karina

Mike & Karina

Smootches!

Untitled

 Attacks!

Mike’s girlfriend is a sweet, appealing girl with a fast smile and clever eyes. (He met her while living in Santiago, Chile). She primarily speaks Spanish, which I mostly understand but can no longer speak, while I primarily speak English, which she can read, but not easily comprehend when spoken. We both lack the complex vocabulary. Mike acts as a guide between us, he explains and untangles our words. We all laugh in the right places, though, and manage complex topics like feminism, family structures, culture maps, information design, game theory, and politics. The language gap could have been awkward had we been other people, but instead it became entertainment, a brainteaser we share and enjoy.

Facebook Friend Portrait #18 – Mike Kitt

Facebook Friend #18 - Mike
Facebook Friend #18 – Mike

I met Mike when he mistook me for a model at a dance party when we were teenagers in Vancouver together,
before he went off to travel the world as a video game designer. He is back in Montreal now, which is slightly
more convenient to visit than Santiago, and I am honoured to have such a clever and intelligent man as a friend.
My favourite thing to share about Mike might be the collection of semi-precious stone spheres he displays to
accurately represent the size of the planets of both our home system of Sol and that of the Star Wars universe.

My Facebook Friends Portrait project began when I hit 1000 friends on Facebook in 2012. The project is on-going and shall continue until I take a portrait of every FB friend I have.

My tweets

started from an e-mail I wrote this morning

My early morning consisted of more cold pizza, updates from the uprising in Turkey, and stark wonder at the absolute disaster area my room has turned into. What is your place like?  Mine looks like I've kept the motor running. I tore it apart before my trip, unable to find something, (plus my coat rack fell down just as I was leaving, taking a shelf with it), returned to the mess, then threw a party, then left town again, and now I'm sitting in the middle of it, overwhelmed. I've put on some music and managed a shower, but now I'm shuffling things around, unable to see an end to the jumble. Piles of books, paper, and electronics all over my desk, a strange miscellany of taxidermy, teacups, and laundry everywhere else. I've been sleeping in a small cocoon of pillows, as the majority of my bed has been turned into a stuff sorting table.

Now I'm tucked in at Kyle's place, situated in an entirely different cocoon of pillows as I write and he tinkers with red velvet waffles with cream cheese sauce. I'm checking mail, writing snippets to people, arranging the pieces of my life into an immediate future. He has just explained to me that red velvet is just a prettied up chocolate, though he doesn't understand why. I returned that the red is to make it sexy, to show it's chocolate that's ready to mate. My music from earlier is still playing. The buttermilk I brought over has gone into the batter. Kyle is making chocolate truffle coffee in time to the tapping of my keys on the keyboard. There are two teenage girls at the kitchen table, quietly in recovery from whatever they were up to last night.

I feel like I'm borrowing someone else's domesticity. I am the house-cat, rock and roll purring, a gray and black creature come in from the cold. I can't express how much I wish I had this myself.