obsessed: exposed closets

with the beginning of the new year often comes a list full of generic resolutions that fall by the wayside by the time valentine's day rolls around. among these? be more organized! A little trick to help us stick by it (when it comes to our closets at least): air it like your dirty laundry! not only a great way to keep tidy and organized, it also makes any room look chic (given you've got taste... well maybe this isn't the best idea for everyone), and is great solution for a sans closet apartment (um...maybe the only solution).

(skona hem)

(me melodia)

(unknown)

(apartment therapy)

i particularly love the use of simple white walls with this look - it makes the clothes pop and become a focal piece in the landscape of the rooms. swoon.

how do you say these words?

roll, comfortable, orange, both, tour, toilet, sure, Nevada, roof, chocolate, route, drawer, coupon, Ramen Noodles, pecan, caramel, milk, again, Caribbean, wash, New Orleans, crayon, envelope, coffee, Reese's Pieces, data

literary forebears: william shakespeare

9 posts in 2010? here's shooting for 10 in 2011.

literary forebears: nabokov

unemployment pros: more free time
unemployment cons: less free cash flow

this creates the ultimate dilemma: more time to create but less money to do so. the lack of fancy software or other supplies doesn't mean you can't at least make the effort. even MS paint goes a long way. (ask my friend guy- he's a pro)

for the above, i just grabbed a photo, found a fitting literary quote and a decent font on MS paint (it is difficult, i won't lie) then laid it over the image. consider a longer quote to fill the entire image or simply one word that strikes your fancy.

words of wisdom: ernest hemingway

(an excerpt from an interview with the paris review, spring of 1958)

Q: Who would you say are your literary forebears—those you have learned the most from?

A: Mark Twain, Flaubert, Stendhal, Bach, Turgenev, Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Chekhov, Andrew Marvell, John Donne, Maupassant, the good Kipling, Thoreau, Captain Marryat, Shakespeare, Mozart, Quevedo, Dante, Virgil, Tintoretto, Hieronymus Bosch, Brueghel, Patinir, Goya, Giotto, Cézanne, Van Gogh, Gauguin, San Juan de la Cruz, Góngora—it would take a day to remember everyone. Then it would sound as though I were claiming an erudition I did not possess instead of trying to remember all the people who have been an influence on my life and work. This isn’t an old dull question. It is a very good but a solemn question and requires an examination of conscience. I put in painters, or started to, because I learn as much from painters about how to write as from writers. You ask how this is done? It would take another day of explaining. I should think what one learns from composers and from the study of harmony and counterpoint would be obvious.

my dream bike

i was a really odd child. instead of playing outside with friends on hot summer days, i'd go to the library with my dad and sister and bring home a pile of books almost as tall as i was. but i was no baby genius, oh no, i wasn't reading tolstoy! the majority of my books were of the mystical persuasion; tarot cards, mind reading, astrology, and the most relevant to the story below, the interpretation of dreams.

much of what i gathered from these dream interpretation frameworks was, well, that much of it was bullshit. but some of the more serious books (the boring ones!) did point out the link between waking life and dreams. see, the story goes like this:

my friend guy had his bike sitting in my place for the past month; he was waiting patiently for the most opportune moment to come pick it up. the weather was delightful yesterday so why wait any longer? he mentioned to me that he had hoped he could get it tuned up in the near future. of course this sparked some kind of subconscious processes and i ended up having the most fantastic dream about the most fantastic bike, pictured here:

so check it, there i am at the bus terminal in kitchener waiting for the next 7 to roll around. i take a look around me and there he is! this guy! this guy with a great little handlebar moustache, surrounded by a glorious array of interior decor items and knick-knacks, and standing behind the sparkling bike. it was such a lovely scene, i had to approach him, and you know what i say? i kid you not, i said, word for word, "oh my god, how are you so awesome that you have that bike?" (damn my fan-girl ways! so embarrassing). he just looks at me for a bit, not saying anything and when he finally does, GET THIS! HE'S GERMAN! he can't understand a single thing i said! but dreams are magical, you know, and so this super nice girl comes out of the wood works and says she'll translate! cool! she tells him i think his bike is fantastic as i look around at his other belongings: a large wooden display frame filled with vintage beer bottles (inspiration for future apartment), a rustic industrial lamp, and a beaten up trunk.


after a brief, translated conversation, he went on his merry way and my dream progressed to stranger, more embarrassing territory. i do not wish to divulge anything more than it involved the jonas brothers and chat roulette. make of that what you will.

(postscript: the bike is from aurumania.com, its production was limited to 50, and the frame and forks are plated with 24-carat gold. oh yeah, and it costs 21,000 euros.)

stretsis daisy sunglasses

need. want. for those who love me, stretsis is sold at jac flash on queen west *wink wink*.