22 November 2011

I was tip-toeing around the background to avoid it but now as of yesterday it’s finally hit me: yes, it’s cold season. It’s where my muscles ache, my eyes water, the body braced for sneezing and in my head it feels like a Jodorowsky movie on heavy codeine. These colds come less and less frequent now, likely due to my adaptation of British strains of the sickness since moving here but no less comfortable when the cold itself comes on.

This makes for using a lot less energy and staying indoors, amongst piles of things. A lot of these things arrived early this summer when a bunch of stuff I had lying in storage back in Canada were shipped over: records, books, clothes, old zines, cassettes, master recordings, photos and other odds and ends. One of the items is a tattered manila FedEx envelope filled with random photos and documentation from when my father passed away, which is now a month or two shy of ten years ago. I never really explored this envelope and for no real reason. It was a mess and always warranted “some time when I had some time” to look in it. I finally did. Odd postcards sent from his stint in the navy to the parents back home, tainted with his trademark humour, a yellowing university thesis, old photos from way back when of unknown men and woman. Some distant Duckworth relative would be my first bet.

I’ve been trying to document a lot of the notes, posters, artwork and other such things I’ve been pumping out on pieces of paper since I was a young school student in the early to mid nineties and posting bits here and there. Here’s a few bits I’ve assembled together from this manila envelope:

That’s it for now. Back to being ill. In these moments I get flashbacks to older times I was sick or just laying around. I seem to remember a long time ago being dazed on some sort of medicine or painkillers listening to this song from the Fugazi “In On The Killtaker” album — back when this album had regular rotation. I currently feel like the track from the 3.00 minute mark onward…