july 3 2000                                  "the catfish days "

these days i just feel kind of like i'm scouring.
there aren't many grandiose pinacles of life events, no opening of the heavens, no mind-jarring experiences. only paling memories of a brief jaunt in LA, a good overview position of what maturity means for a changed, and watching and accumulating as life's tentacles mould me into whomever i'm becoming. i cannot prevent certain accumulations, i cannot wave the winds into a magical formation that favours my fame or yours. i am grazing. i am wansering. these are the catfish days.

july 2 2000                                             "hope "

what's left in a world where small children were abused by their own fathers? what's left in a world where anger is the only way some know? where hate and misery live alongside love?
hope is left.

june 27 2000                                             "extremes "

i'm not very 'orderful' but total order does intrigue me. instead, i prefer the extremities. prostitution is interesting, suburbia is boring. Orthodox Jews are fascinating, sitcoms are programmed crap.
deviation will not kill you. trust me.

j u s t        d e v i a t e      a     b i t

june 21 2000   "running in the rain on summer solstice "

we think it's today but we're not sure.

what i realized today as i watched a man running in the rain, is that my prime directive may in fact be more than my own happiness. gut reaction was to ask him if he wanted a lift. i wonder if that is universally felt in people who were raised in a loving environement.

not living in the right place can really mess with your head. never mind Feng Shui, if you're not living in a building, in rooms, that FEEL RIGHT, GET OUT. this will change who you are, what you do, and the direction you are going in. come on, i rarely give you instructions, don't you trust me?

most of my inbox is junk. i get an average of 65 emails every day, and most of it is junk. i'm not sure if that is supposed to make me feel like a loser, or just like i've had that account for a very, very, long time.

i'm writing on my lap again. there was a time when the heat of the laptop would have been welcoming, but in this day and age all i can think is that it might give me cancer. isnt' that awful, we can't even appreciate heat without worrying. not all of us, i guess, because i saw a guy at work the other day stick his face right in the microwave. i guess he missed the articles. oh well.

so back on the homefront subject, i'm staring into the rainy season. just kind of makes you want to cocoon. i enjvy jann who is today writing about driving along some highway to get a windmill coffee in the middle of nowheresville, Alberta. imagine it must feel mighty peaceful to get back to the lake after running all over the goshdarned continent singing at loud people. so i'm doing my own version of drdiving along highway whatever, by sitting in my red room with a few candles. the windmill people are strumming out some kind of hurried chords under the halogen lights, and the phone wires bridge several gaps including the one between my lap and the big mexican coffee table.

the humidity has arrived and so has my inner spirit. i wonder why so few people feel this the same way i do. if you do please let me know. i think my connection with myself is completely reliant on the humid air which bring me into some kind of peaceful space inside myself. it is in fact, the main reason that i am realxing right now, and the motivation for all this writing. i think it might be linked to the gene that wanted me to pick up that man running in the rain.

i do have a slight headache, related to my femalial bodily functions right now. it's amazing how connected i feel all of a sudden. weird.

we're looking forward to a few things in the next few days: one, we leave on friday to go to Sandbanks provincial park which is a beautiful white sand dune beach campground in Ontario, Canada. If I have a chance I should scan some shots. even the drive there will be welcomed. we can do it on friday at our own pace since it's a holiday in Quebec and we wont' be working. it's quite a nice drive and a beautiful part of Canada along the Thousand Islands.

then when we get back, close relatives from Dallas will arrive in town for a visit. we always look forward to their visits. hopefully the weather will cooperate. i'm not expecting it to, so whatever it drums up will be OK.

so people read her diary because she's famous. she's talented. oh well.

june 20 2000                                                  "she"

it still has to cross my mind that other people may not have the same daily motivators as me. isn't that silly? we map our lives out on a daily basis, once the weekly monthly and yearly maps are constructed, each day with a goal, an overiding prime directive.
some of us just want to get through the day alive, i suppose. some want to make as much money as possible. i doubt anyone reading the mEp fits into that category. LOL. some want to make their children happy. some want to avoid the tax collector. some want to eat. alot. some want to be healthier, and some just plain want to get drunk.
mine, well mine has not changed much i suppose. i try to be as happy as possible. that's all. i wonder how many people fit into this category. i suppose many of the people who try to make money or want to get drunk will tell you precisely exactly the same thing. i wish they could know the difference.

and that, written for the very first time, on my lap. :-)

june 19 2000                            a history lesson

since we cannot know what will become of our language in the future; something which pains me greatly, we must be satisfied with looking backwards at words and watching the richness of what is our language now.

we won't know what 'depanneur' will become in Montreal english in 2250, we won't know what a PC will be, but we can look back at "dressed to then eyne" and see how it has become 'dressed to the nines'

june 16 2000

i just had a weird feeling. they changed excite.com and i started doing some 'web surfing' or searching, as i used to be wont to do often, looking for a nice list of Broadway classics.

what i found was very weird. i typed 'lesmiserables.com' and stuff like that and found myself in a strange places. it was like i was lost on the web. it was a very strange feeling.

june 15 2000                                                  mch

i saw a man with one crutch hobbling along the road.
jann writes about many of the thoughts that i used to write about, but now they are all writ. sometimes there are new ones, but mostly as i lay in bed at night thinking about fortune: good or bad, primarily good now, the resulting consequences are difficult to write down on paper or even on electronicness.

i used to know a man who lay in newspapers in a hotel room.

discussions of late about friends, keeping friends, pissing off friends, loving friends, friends who call, what to call the ones who dont... :-)

i guess complete mental-settling has not quite occured, after all it's only been a few days. but every day is exciting, every new spot discovered is a spot that isn't three thousand miles from home. it's great to move into a place that is so welcoming.

pmsing and only interested in shopping, chocolate, and sitting here quietly staring at the screen. work? what's that.

june 13 2000                         man with one crutch

i think the plants need watering. i'd water them; if i knew where they were.

but that's OK. the boxes are beautiful, unpacked as they are. the deadlines are over and they can sit in piles with our gazes upon them reflecting the light of the China-red walls.
shoulders are down, tension is low, the movers have picked it up there and dropped it off here and the floor shines a clean carmel, and the kitchen is white.

a creaking, over-painted wooden window in the bathroom, nearly spooky, sways slowly with the wind in the skilight-tunnel in the center of the room and i think to myself, a creakily swaying old window holds more culture; more essence of this city and our lives, than the entire motel all in one. than the entire motel did, all in one.

i'm late today, not very, but later than i like to be, and typing more frantically with my long half-broken nails which survived the painting the cleaning and the move. Backspace frequently.
the paper arrived today, just in time. address-changing was not so bad at least the bills will come. i'm typing on a speaker and maybe mirrors laying flat are bad luck or some such thing, but everything that had deadlines has passed. the windows were washed; the kitchen was finally packed and cleaned; the nice man painted the kitchen until it was white. hospital white. boxes align the bedroom window and there's no food in the cupboards; but the gears are low, and when i finally get around to realizing that, my shoulders will fall back in place.

again, i reiterate, this is logical. we can move around like humans in here. the street is quiet, and children play here. neighbours plant flowers. the woman upstairs welcomed me to the neighbourhood. she owns a dog. empty paint cans go in the basement. it's close to paradise. we have left the motel, here here; we have left the motel. normalcy returns.

Four billion people surround us:
So many souls lose their way
All that we have is Each other
and that's all I ever wanted

-jann arden

june 02 2000         morning showers follow the day after may

"so buy a ticket for a plane and come and see me, baby or drive your car all night by just starlight, to Canada... That's where I'll be, waiting"

yesterday i said to Jim, "remember when it was FUN when you could answer people's questions?"

this, reflecting on the transition from being able to solve small computer problems to the harried
existence that is working in this IT support hallway at an international telecom company in the year 2000.

Poot's place