More cheek time with hospital chairs

So when Jude was sent to the emergency room this week we didn't have time to pack cushions, or e-books or any of the things that make interminable waits on hard plastic chairs that little more bearable. Instead we hunkered down, we bought terrible magazines from elderly volunteers who see counting change as a kind of zen sudoku, we watched the people to fat too fit in the seats, yet too fat to stand do little circles.

Actually they were fast - day one. They checked us in, registered us, listened to the baby's heartbeat, made an appointment for a thorough ultra-scan and then let us go. The next day took longer, scan, move, wait for results, wait for injection, wait to see whether there was a reaction to the injection.

The good news is that the scans were all good, Jude is fine, the baby is fine and it looks as though it might well be a boy. The bad news - boy's names are HARD. I fancy recycling a Coco, a Lulu or a Lili. Jude's less certain. So instead we start the search for a boy's name that won't lead to fights (sorry Sioux, sorry Gaye Mary), won't sound too Sarah Palin (bye bye Thak, Thud, Skud and Moses) and won't get the kid internally searched at airports (ciao Jorge, Jihaad, Mosef)... I'm currently stuck on Berlinn... will try to get past that.

First post of my 40s

So 40 came and went. I spent a big chunk of the day at the oncologists - which was a good thing. I now have a schedule for scans, two people on my case and a team following up. The Canadian system works well when you're in it - the problem in Quebec is getting into that system. One for Propellerfish I think. "How do you provide consistent healthcare when half of the people in the Province don't have a doctor of their own?" Would love to do that one.

Lots on with P'Fish at the moment. Am talking to quite a few people about being their 'innovation provider' - the trick will be finding the right people to power. I'd hate to be 'powering' people who don't really get it, or don't really like us or just don't really play well with others. So it's lots and lots of conversations about feel and mood and ways of approaching things.

On top of that have a couple of Salons coming - to show people what it is that we do and how it feels to do it with us. They're always fun to do and almost always end up churning out an idea that somebody wants to pick up and run with.

Looking at a busy period coming up too, with banks, energy drinks, governments, PR agencies, jewelers, auto manufacturers, drinks people and confectioners all vying for a place on the books.

Plus the new website is at the Proof Reading stage - which is more exciting than it should be. Liking it a lot.

Throw in Jude now looking properly pregnant (Valentine's Day Birth) and the fact that she got me a gallery show for my birthday (so lots of pictures to take, frame and name) plus a commission to take for a very cool website and a request to be the photographer for "an erotic masked ball" (still thinking about that one) and it looks as though the next six months could be hectic.

Cool

Tick, tock

A decade ago I was in Bali, enjoying my 30th birthday. I was living in Singapore, the career was going well, I was being courted by companies from all over the world. I'd never been sick. Nobody around me had died. I had no reason to believe that I'd ever lose a job, or be 'let go'. Nobody close to me had ever really let me down. I was invincible and invulnerable. And an asshole because of it. 

A decade later I'm sitting in Montreal. Sickness, betrayal, loss of job, death and doubt have all visited me. And they've taken my hair and the elasticity of my skin. They almost took my sanity. But somehow you get through.

And you do more than get through. I have a fledgling company that's about to take off, a business partner that's shown enough patience with me to be in line for sainthood but enough steel to make me get up in the mornings. We have a baby on the way. New friends around us. And 30" waist pants (still)

I'm less of an asshole. Calmer. More centered. Less sure. Better. 10 years vegetarian. 4 years cancer free. A person rather than a cartoon.

Life is good.

Who knows what 40s will throw at me, I know it will be something (there's progress), I also know that I'll sail through (even if it gets choppy)

So here's to the people that made my 30s bearable (thank you people) and to the next decade... who'd have thought I'd live to see it?

I know that...

I know that pregnant women are supposed to be beautiful. That they're supposed to glow. To have a luminescence about them. To radiate.

But let's face it that usually translates to 'pregnant women are heavy, they sweat and perspire their way around, looking hot, bothered and blotchy.'

And for many people that's the case.

But I have to say that I think my wife looks tremendous as a pregnant lady - carrying it off with a breezy aplomb that brushes aside the nausea, aches, pains, cramps, swellings, cravings, more nausea and general unease.

It's all in the genes apparently

The oldest argument

I was talking to some friends at a local sex worker advocacy group the other day and she dropped a statistic that in North America 1 in 7 men have paid for sex in their lifetime. That's not 'paid for sex' as in 'dropped a wad on an expensive dinner' but as in 'thanks for that, there's a $100 on the side table'

I decided to look up whether she had her facts straight and it seems that she does. Almost all of the surveys that I've seen for North America seem to hover around the 15% mark. Which begs the question - what are all of these guys paying for.

In the liberal corner you tend to hear 'companionship, fantasy, human contact'
In the conservative corner 'control, dominance, a chance to express innate misogyny.'

I'm pretty sure that it's a little of each, depending on the person who's doing the paying.

Which is a 'shade of grey' argument.. but an honest one.

I wish I had a better response and I'm trying to learn as much as I can about the issue. I've been to 'Sex workers do reading', I've been to a few Sex Worker's Rights meetings here and I'll talk to anyone with an opinion that's been informed by someone.

For some reason it's a subject that fascinates me...

Is this someone selling intimacy or someone selling the surrender of self determination?

And of course I'm not talking about people forced into the industry or tricked into it or trafficked in. I'm talking about the people who look at it and think 'why not?'

There's a photo series in here somewhere... taking pictures of prostitutes, their johns and their persecutors. I'm just not good enough (yet) to do it justice.

A minor miracle

Getting a doctor in Quebec is a little less difficult than getting head in synagog. It's pretty much impossible. And for a number of reasons. But ultimately, about half of the people here have no doctor of their own and rely on 'walk in' clinics for their care.

So when you go to a walk in clinic, you're greeted, they take your insurance number (province provided) and they give you a seat. Your home for the next two hours at least. You wait your couple of hours (longer sometimes) and then are given a room number.

Go to the room and in springs a doctor. Last time for me it was a young guy in nice jeans who opened with

"We are busy. I have no time. You have 1 minute. What do you want?"

"A repeat prescription and a referral to an oncologist so that I can schedule scans"

"That's two things. I have time for one. Which?"

"Erm they'll each take about 30 seconds"

"And you have 40 seconds left. Choose one now, then take a seat and wait again"

"That's stupid"

"20 seconds. Choose or leave"

"Which is most likely to kill me. Not having the drugs or skipping a scan?"

"10 secs"

I chose the prescription(I told him what I needed and how much, he took notes and signed off, not a glance at my records), mentally braced to come back the next day and tried not to swing for the man.


Jude didn't take this in a supine position. The number you call to get a doctor (811) actually laugh when you tell them that you're looking. I tried for 14 hrs over 2 days once, got close then had the guy take money to register me on to then say it was for his 2 year waiting list. Not Jude.

As faculty at the university she gets access to a doctor. And was lucky enough to be one of two people 'chosen' to receive a doctor to take her through her pregnancy (they take 2 people a month, she's one of the 2 in Feb)... so today she talked to that doctor, who had heard of a program, who might be able to get you in to see interns at the hospital. They'll rotate. They have a 50% cancellation rate but they keep your notes, they have an appointment system and they can write referrals. Four hours and a couple of calls later I was in.

Nobody here can believe it. I have a kind of family doctor (sorta), who will know who I am and actually keep notes AND they're affiliated to a hospital. And I've been here a year.

Jude be a star

A perfect category?

I co-run a company that's all about developing opportunities. Which sounds kinda new age, but is actually extremely commercial.

It's all about spotting the kinds of things that people will pay for and then helping companies come up with new products, new services and new ways of doing business in order to make money from that need.

So I tend to look at most categories and companies with a critical eye. Why isn't packet soup sold in vending machines at the office as an alternative to high fat, high guilt chocolate items? Why is your 20 mins waiting for a 4 minute meeting with a doctor wasted reading old magazines when it could be used to help make that 4 mins more effective?  How do you make a toy that makes kids laugh like drains but offends moms more palatable, without it losing its appeal? Why don't hybrids feel more like computer games? Why aren't ALL tables and chairs self leveling? Why can't I choose a 17.5 year mortgage with annual payment holidays? Why can't I borrow money from me facebook friends?

You get the picture.

So imagine my surprise when I jumped the gun and went looking at baby strollers. They're about perfect. They twist, they turn, the rise and fall, the convert, they fold at the touch of a button and self unfold at a kick. They have a frame that takes different 'tops' - they grow with kids. You can add ride along plates and toddler seats, car seats and bassinets. They have cup holders. They have shopping baskets. And parasols. They have converters to turn bassinets into workable cribs. They have wheels that lock and swivel. They have soy interiors, so that they're not allergic. The sun visor is UV protective. Some of the materials are mosquito repellent. I can think of NOTHING that's not on either a STOKKE, an UPPA, a BUGABOO or perhaps a Quinny. And that's never happened to me before. Hell they'll even bounce and play music if you ask them to. It could just be the perfect category. 

There's even Rock Star Baby

"Spa"

In Montreal the word "Massage" is a euphemism.
You usually look for "Spa" if your want something other than a light rub, a quick tug and a hefty bill.

But today I saw a new place - and it looked good.
Male beauty salon - manicure, pedicure, tanning, blah blah
The window was full of services

So I went in and asked about a pedicure.

"Oh we don't have that. But we have 4 beautiful girls to choose from. And a great massage room"

"I'm sure you do, what do you mean 'we don't have that'"

"Well we're on a main street, we want our customers to be able to leave without being stared at"

"So you're not in the pampering metrosexuals business then?"

"Nope"

And so it goes. It seems that in Montreal you don't just have to take the word 'massage' with a smear of lube, but anything prefixed with 'male'... heaven knows what goes on in the male pattern baldness center

Are you a casual couple?

Not casual as in 'I just screwed the pizza guy' - 'me too!' - but as in relaxed, laid back, kinda cool and overall just hip to be around. If so then I'd love to photograph you naked for a series that I'm doing that's all about being 'naked not nude'... nudes always being meticulously lit and bathed in soft light.

Let me hear you say 'yeah'

Unless I'm very much wrong

... this isn't indigestion

So far all of the tests and scans tell us that it's a very healthy baby, due on Valentine's Day...

(S)he already has my head,,,,

Sleepless in... where was it again

These days I'm finding it hard to sleep. Or rather I'm finding it hard to drag myself to bed. Instead I sit up at night trying to take in every moment before 40 hits me like a steam-roller and, mixing metaphors, knocks the wind out of my sails.

Not that I've loved my 30s. They don't have the 'can't be knocked down' swagger of your 20s or the 'been there done that, about to do it again and with more elan' confidence that I'm hoping my 40s will bring.  I think that Elan should be the way forward for me... if I can pull it off.

But there's something melancholy about being up alone. The lig near silence (only the hum of the fridge and a dripping from the roof as today's rain finds its way back to ground keep me company) tends to make for movements that are lighter, more considered.

And still it comes. 40. Rolling toward me like the cloud racing up the beach on a sunny day. There's no way to stay ahead of it and no cure for the darkness into which it sends you. 40. And what? Now what? These aren't the questions that keep me awake, nothing keeps me awake but the desire not to go to sleep, to waste a night that others, somewhere, are savoring.

I like melancholy. That's a problem. Or it could be. But most of all I like the night. The darkness allows us to lower our masks and allow a different persona to emerge. I like myself at night. During the day I'm too busy being my day self to notice this, quieter person. And I don't write crap.

40. man.

Has it been that long?

t's been an age since my last post. I blame Pam. I've been traumatized by memories of her slow motion dancing, Shatner type girdle and 'better known for my lie down than my stand up' type lines for weeks now.

Luckily the summer is simmering along nicely, I have proposal after proposal after proposal to get out to people and there's enough on the horizon to make the haze of the desert bearable.

And then of course there are the festivals. They're everywhere. You can't move for the happy people buzzing along in street pedestrianized and wandered by drag queens. Drag is everywhere and happily it's Guy Pierce rather than Terence Stamp in flavor. Crude, over the top and quite, quite lovely.

Mind the free festival period is slowly coming to an end as the paid festivals (music mainly) start to take their place. This weekend was Oshega (Arcade Fire, Weezer, DEVO!, Keane?), the weekend before Heavy MTL (megadeath. slayer, korn, Alice Cooper?) and we have some very cool people filling up the evenings in the parks at things like Picnik Electronik (Justin Martin, Elite Force, Paul Ritch)...

So there's still time left for fun...

This is what my world looks like right now (well my evenings, the days are spent kicking myself into gear on the biz, but that's another post)

Pamela Anderson Gala

So it turns out that watching Pamela Anderson do comedy is about as comfortable as having a proctological exam from Edward Scissorhands.

We squirmed, we twisted, we held up our hands in horror, we covered our ears at the deafening volume, then our mouths as she left her dancing partner on stage for what seemed like a week as she changed outfits, slowly.

Oh it was horrible. She dressed as a seal (to go clubbing, geddit), she danced (slowly) --- she wished she wasn't there. And the audience wished that they weren't either.

Minchin

I love Tim Minchin. I think that he's inventive and relevant and witty and in no way a modern day Richard Stilgoe passing time until the call comes from dictionary corner.

And Rove is the reason I moved to Australia. While I was out there checking out a job he interviewed Elmo - and we decided 'any place that has a place for this on TV is a place we'd want to live'

Jarred Christmas is from New Zealand, which might explain why his parents misspelled his first name. And why he does the occasional 'hobbit' joke... it's the law there. In the same way that a New York brick wall necessitates an opening that goes something like 'I know, I look like the bastard offspring of A list celebrity x and C list celebrity y' - so too do New Zealand comics need to talk Lord of the Rings.

As it happen Jarred was a very cool host for this, got the energy going, handled the bizarre heckler well and kept things on track. Rove looked like a millionaire TV producer trying to prove to himself that he'd still got stand up chops - he does but he has no material.


And Minchin, well he was good - and better than good when he was being venomous 'fuck you motherfucker' was genius.

Mighty Boosh?

So last night I took advantage of Zoofest's cheap tickets and went down to see Noel Fielding play a very small room, at 10.30pm in the Red Light District of Montreal.

And he was nae bad at all, actually.

It's weird to watch a comic morph from James Joyce "Stream of Conscience" nonsense verse "where's he going?" into more of a life experience "this happened to me" kind of act. It's a tricky tightrope but he's walking it quite well - dropping character occasionally, infusing the real life stuff with flights of fancy and generally trying to live up to the promise of his outfits.

It jars at times - Kiss at 6 years of age, sledding with kids at Xmas. Not bad gags but tonally very different to 'my neighbor the porcelain monkey with the wooden legs" for example

Still a decent night for twenty bucks... and the chance to see a 'big name' in a small venue

So it's finals day

The 'oh so close' Dutch against 'notorious chokers' Spain.
World Cup 2010
Final.

Or as Shakira 'sang' "Wikki, wacky, wah - ya, ooh, 'cause this is Africa"

Jude is fixing and ironing her oranje tops.
I'm running the washing machine

The temperature is high.
Nelson Mandela is under pressure to attend despite being 92, in mourning and ill-health and not wanting to.
There's oil spilling into the gulf.
Right wing parties are gaining traction around the world.

It's crazy.

Fantastic... right now off to one of Canada's many Irish pubs, in a French speaking part of town with a bunch of Germans

Hurrah

Sweat drenched blog post

It's 36c in Montreal and 30c in my living room. The fans are on but being greenies we don't have aircon and so as the humidity rises and the animals sprawl on the floor looking for a little cool from the wood I've decided to apply sweaty fingers to keyboard and keep you abreast of all that's going on.

With Indonesian milk out of the door and prestige German auto makers almost put to bed my attention is turning to less prestige Japanese cars, and kids toys, and American cars and credit card companies - oh and a telecom company. Lots to think about then - which is a good thing as too little to do leads to regular viewing of Dr Phil and from there the slide through Dr Oz to Rachel Rae is a short and precipitous one.

Have a midnight shoot tonight - fur in the heat and we're looking to light some fires too. Should be sweaty. Shot some people at the weekend too...

Here's some of the latest stuff

Unzombied

And so as the jetlag slowly fades and the World Cup finally warms up I find myself in a kind of nice limbo... feeling more alive yet still quite floaty... day structured around being able to see the games without having to miss a deadline and holding distractions at a minimum. It's a rather lovely way to be, now all I need are for the pieces of work that I do between 6am and 10am and then between 3pm and 6pm to be attached to ever larger cheques and all will be well with the world.

Interviewing people to join The Fish here at the moment; which is both exciting and scary. Quebec law means that they're going to be local rather than imported, not an issue but again it adds focus to the search. The exciting bit is that it means that we can expand and take on more work - the scary thing is that it means we have to expand and take on more work. This rollercoaster has been cranking its way up to the top of the hill for a while now, it feels as though it's cresting and about to take the long plunge down the first straight. You want to scream, you might want to get off but then you realize that you're having a good time and that you'll be back in line the second it stops. That's where I am. And it's very cool.

The airport longue in Hong Kong

is really starting to feel like home...

... though having watched people coughing, spluttering, spitting and then scooping up peanuts by the dirty handful I may now understand just why I always leave HK with a 'dodgy stomach'... and I'd been blaming Cathay.

This trip was fun... I know more about the Indonesian milk business than I had before and I know that it's actually really interesting.

That said it's 1.20am and I have a flight in an hour... so time I took a shower

A quick photo update

I've not been that busy photographically over the last 6 weeks or so,,, concentrating instead on how to make some money, which seems to be sensible. But here's a quick 'what I've been up to'

James was a lovely young man... all angles and long face but very keen, very astute and quick to come up with ideas.  We did a lot of stuff but in the end I liked the grainy - Michael Cainey stuff more than anything else. Not sure why these shots felt like Alfie to me (James didn't) but somehow that's the mode that I got into.

Everyone who takes pictures has a shot on a railway line and as I live right next to a railway line it would seem remiss of me not to take a pic or two down there. This was for 'stylist Tristan' and a series of shots that he's doing with colored tattoos and monkey masks.

These guys I love to pieces. They're great fun, alway show up on time and want to do a shot again and again until they nail it. Nothing is too much hard work, nothing is too much to ask and nobody is looking at the clock at any point. 


The kind of shoots that I just love doing - easy, breezy, beautiful... etc.

Sam has always had an extraordinary face.

What struck me about him this time was just how his body had changed.

He put it down to Hindi push-ups

And veganism.

And living alone.

I think that it's hard work, discipline, genes and youth.

He could (and should) go far --- people want to work with him and it's easy to see why. I still owe him a shoot that's as good as he is.

Guiseppe is one of those people

who look totally different on

camera to the way that they 

do when the walk through the

door.

Another lovely guy, who took the 

bus down from Ottawa for a few

headshots - he was another who said

"Oh, okay" when I'd throw on a snoot,

shine a too bright light at him and ask 

him to don a hannibal lecter mask

Hurrah for cool people

I shot Julian in his own place

It was amazing 

As is he.

He makes hula hoops for a living

And gives hula hoop classes

Oh and he does yoga

And models

And makes great tea

Accompanied with unusual but delicious jams

When I grow up I want to be him

Until then I'd be happy to shoot him every day

The Viles are great.

The make clothing

And accessories

Have the coolest kids

And endless ideas

Again I'd love to shoot and shoot and shoot with them

But I think that I might have to get better first

Andy was about as Canadian as it's possible to be.

And all the better for it.

He grabbed props.

Made shots

And moved on

All I had to do was click and click again

And we were through

Got some nice headshots too

It would be too easy to fall in love with Cristelle.

She's got great energy, a really good portfolio and she knows how to move... 

Which helps a lot.

Maybe I'm a sucker for a French accent, maybe it's that bubbly enthusiasm or it could be American Apparel underwear, I'm not sure but this is a shoot that had a very good clicks to hits ratio.

Smart, 

Arty, 

Willing to take things off in the cold

Stefan was a joy

And he knows his art theory

Which helps

Especially when the photog wants to hide smart 'easter eggs' in his images.

So that's it. Not a huge work rate... but you get the picture(s)