one doorknob

Now a pen, especially a fish pen, is a hard object to let go. But even with the awesome writing powers it may possess, you’ve gotta face the facts: A fish pen can’t really help you open a cupboard. And I’ve got a cupboard that needs opening. Luckily, Annie Robbins called me about ten minutes after I got the pen.




I showed up at Annie's place in Seattle in a minivan filled with my parents, Ian and Colleen, my brother Scott, my brother's girlfriend Rachel and even my Grandpa Nap, which funny enough is his nickname...short for Napoleon. Annie was stoked. She'd never traded with an entourage before. Or met a Napoleon, I think. Annie is a helpful Seattle-based ceramic sculptor who had the ideal object to trade: A doorknob. But not just any old doorknob, oh no, this l’il sculpted mofo looks like E.T. after he smoked a bat. A BIG bat. If I had to name it, which I do, I’d call it a Knob-T. As soon as I laid eyes upon the Knob-T, I just knew I had to get my hand on it.



Question from passerby: “What are you holding? Me: “A Knob-T" Passerby again: “What’s a Knob-T?” Me again: “It’s pretty much my favorite Seattle souvenir. It’s like a tripped-out version of E.T. crossed with a doorknob...bred for its skills and magic.” If only.



Three airplane rides and a change of shirts later I found myself back in Montreal able to do the one thing I’ve always dreamed about: tug on a drug-induced ceramic version of E.T. to get at the solvents. Bigger than a fish pen? Nope. Better than a fish pen? I'll just the solvents do the talkin'.


Look at the solvents---Don't they love it? Quiet though, they don't know I'm going to trade the knob away. They'll get over it. They always do. So hands down Annie is the coolest professional potter from the Emerald City I’ve ever met. But get this, there's more: she's trying to get rid of her Mercedes. Her plan is to wait until I get something big enough to trade for the car. I like her plan. It is good.

*Click here to see who wound 

up with Annie's doorknob.