1. cynthia has a blue sofa, in the livingroom space, right under a narrow window. i always think of it as primarily „why we could possibly entertain the idea of having guests over”, i.e. the place is tiny but that is where i’d sleep if i had to give my bed to someone. it’s a short sofa, a two-seat, but satisfyingly soft and has big arms so i’m sure something can be done about that, with the help of a pillow and a couple of blankets. anyway, i’ve pretty much taken over the sofa, i.e. when i’m not in my room i’m there (err, it’s literally a two steps’ distance, but okay) with my laptop or my current book or the annoying weekly „voir”. you like the sofa?, cynthia said – i got it from someone for free.
it’s probably pretty old, not battered really, but well-worn, in a good way. there’s a splash of droplets of …glue, i suspect, down the back. the color is intense and at the same time sort of warm/calm. hey maybe it’s turquoise really, not pure blue anyway, and it’s not like i’m an expert in these things. my story about this sofa is that i’m painting it.
i.e. i’m making a picture/painting of ‘our’ blue sofa. cynthia had canvas and colors, and she paints, so whatever. we started this painting session thing together at some point last month, and i’m three or four sittings in, so now, in a very post-anything gesture, we hung the not-really-finished painting on the wall above the sofa. i do like it. i like having to mix my blue with a bit of yellow (i told you maybe it was turquoise? no??) and i get color all over myself. there are lots of thoughts i’m letting myself drift into while at it : about art vs. copying vs. whatever; how we choose our subjects; how my drawing/painting parallels my writing process. how in my picture it’s a sunny day, with the sofa empty, light washing through the window and the leaves of a plant suspended above it, luminous almost fluorescent. how it looked like that almost from the first, with only tiny details adding up…and i still don’t know what more to do to actually get it finished.
2. i saw a blue bag in a shop window and wanted it for about three weeks before i bought it. for people who don’t know, i used to buy my bags from secondhands, or just ‘get them’ from people, that kind of hand-me-downs. i have used a lot of bags in my time (necessarily big to fit all my books and manuscripts and papers and occasional forza flakes:) and kilos of apples or, sometimes fatally, yogurts etc. yay teaching, and yay being an essential migrant once i’m out of the door) but i think only one was a serious/bought new bag that i liked. and i bought it on a shopping trip with my mum, so it doesn’t even matter.
anyway – i’m not a backpack person, i can’t make it work. maybe it’s the traditional in me, =/or some subconscious wish to imitate mum well, at least in this one tiny aspect. handbag, medium to big pretty classic looking, medium length handles, zippers, compartments. all i have for excitement in the bag department is color.
this one is a FaFa bag. i mean i couldn’t care less about brands and stuff, but it’s probably an improvement from chinese store merchandise on comm. drive – yes? no? i window-shopped so much within my first month in montreal, when i had no place-job-money…i saw it in a store by the metro peel entrance, in les cours mont-royal, and it was on sales or something. 40 bucks. i do ocasionally spend money on objects-that-are-not-food, but the predominant thought was, why? it was just so random. just something beautiful, but not even extravagant enough, staring back at my greed and my lack of decision-making skills.
i bought it out of my first big paycheck. it was a sunny day off, with nothing special to do. i brought it home and hung it on the handle to my closet door. you know, „i have a real bag now” – as if it’s a step towards having real pants, interview clothes, a real job, a personal dentist, an esthethicienne, holidays skiing somewhere, going out for dinner at least once a week. no i don’t feel (i still don’t feel) i’m missing out on anything, but sometimes i just get so tired to count/calculate every damn cenne.
but since i still have to count my money (daily; automatically), i’ve introduced the „blue bag unit”: my normal work over schedule/week = 0,5 blue bag; or: now i earn 7 or 8 more blue bags/month than i was in vancouver; my tax return money = 6 blue bags. i would pay 1,5 blue bag for a dress this summer, but that’s as far as i’d go.