august rains in
july 28 2000
i feel lucky to be me. dispite my disillusions of grandeur, ideals set out of sight, and temporary lonliness; there's not much born more luckier than i. the ability to know this notwithstanding. what follows from this train of thought is an intellectual roundabout.
july 26 2000
in the distance the oratory is aglow.
a stripe of blood-red sky pulls your gaze away from everything.
bright lights along the shoreline seem surreal, and it's really hard to tell that we're not anywhere exotic. an otter breaks the wake. we pass a darkened buoy and it startles me as it flies by the head window.
the warmth in the air screams, sings, and lulls summer through our bones.
there is no time on the water, no forward and no past. there is no way to prove at this moment that we are not at one with everything, everyone.
i wonder how i got to be so lucky to have such an evening;
how did i position myself into these circumstances. did i at all?
does my city appear endlessly romantic tonight because no matter where i would have ended up, i would have seen it with my own eyes - or because no matter what i would have done i would have ended up on a boat staring into my city on an endless summer night in the year 2000?
july 25 2000
we lived to see both the fall of Princess Diana, and the Concord,
and both in Paris nonetheless.
there's not much poesie to come from me in this july
my soul longs to be under those cloudy whites
while my heart aches for something empty around me
i've detached from the mothership; the strings no longer bind
the memories of curly-haired Bussiere girls frolicking under immense
evergreens in Ottawa is as faded as it will ever be
that brings a tear to one corner of an eye;
there are those who reach out to me now
and i'm not reaching back, maybe i'm longing for something even more private, maybe my time in the old house and the orchids has come? i can still smell that room on the second floor; feel the distance i was so afraid of; and i can still be afraid of being so far away from everything that it was death in itself.
i don't think i have ever overcome that, and i've felt quite alone ever since.
in a new way.
someone sent me this
july 20 2000
is it natural to want everyone to love me?
no one should see my faults unless i choose to let them.
is that unnatural? my high standards lend themselves to
others having high standards of me;
i'd better remember to practice what i preach.
"only the ones who believe,
ever see what they dream,
ever dream what comes true"
-beth neilson chapman
if i see their lives as surface
why can't i dismiss their opinions as such?
july 18 000
everyone is guilty to a certain degree of amassing personal belongings based on a set of personal goals, ideals, dreams, needs and wants.
it's just that there exists an ethereal filter that siphons off the ones who come a fine line between amassing stuff and just being selfish. i suppose everyone has to decide for them ownselves where that line is. the pity of it all is that our media-driven money-takes all society deems the ones who are really selfish as 'the winners'. it's a struggle to stay on top of this.
july 17 000
three item on today's agenda:
- the world gets smaller as i get bigger and i'm probably not the center of my own universe anymore. now i'm just the center of yours. although this allows me to see things from your perspective, it means that i'm alot smaller than i used to be.
- i'm watching a man walking his dalmation and i'm thinking how lucky i am to be
- I feel pretty,
Oh so pretty,
I feel pretty and witty and gay,
And I pity Any girl who isn't me today.
I feel charming,
Oh so charming,
It's alarming how charming I feel,
And so pretty
That I hardly can believe I'm real.
See the pretty girl in that mirror there:
Who can that attractive girl be?
Such a pretty face,
Such a pretty dress,
Such a pretty smile,
Such a pretty me!
I feel stunning And entrancing,
Feel like running and dancing for joy,
For I'm loved By a pretty wonderful boy!
- our city rebounds. the detour signs are getting more specific.
july 14 000
the e-mail is quiet; the sun's most ablaze
the winds from the south create midsummer haze
the office door's still while the customer's snooze
i sit back in my chair as i dream of a cruise
july 12 000
life in (this part of) Canada is just a teency bit harder that it is in the US. here, we twist our natural tendancies of personal freedom around bureaucratic barbed wire. more effort is required to get from A to Z.
i'm swept into this realm as i listen to this music* that brings to mind a peaceful, tranquil state of mind and is derived from a distinctly American facillity of life.
our world is not built on intuitive logic. it's not built with a protective constitution in mind. individuality comes second. this music is the essence of individuality - of the right that every American (with enough money) can buy a copy of the latest Martha Stewart or Celestine Prophecy and proudly display it on the coffee table.
i like it.
it's the American Dream.
july 10 000
i'm making lists.
i feel clean between my toes
and behind my ears
the traffic piles as beth chants
"away beyond the blue"
we've got a trip to plan
leave some time for dreams
"these precious days we live thru;
just thrown away like tissue"
do you remembering growing?
do you recall feeling awkward and
unfamiliar with your own body?
do you remember what it was like for your personal
organism to pass from being small, to being grown?
i guess we either forget
it so quickly, become embarrassed and ashamed, or
pretend it's not happening at all until it's over.
i'm glad i wasn't fully self-aware at that time, nor
conscious of what was going on. i think that would
have been very traumatic.
july 7 2000 "must keep writing"
although i wake with groggy head
and old friends new all now seem defeated
i'm fighting brine in brain to see through clouds of mire
i'm fighting biological warfare with a mild depression
when i just want to sit on the terrase and feel like I'm in the middle of something because that's what I'm used to. try not to think about who you're annoying who cares about what because when you never did that you were happier. but you feel mature caring and who's to throw away a care?
team leaders in the next room tossing a figurative ball around,
ALT TAB safely brings me to a world that appears like i'm working when i'm busier than impossible. i'm feeling alone.
july 6 2000 "my latest theory"
there are two sides on every coin, plus the edges. many of us are able to hold the coin from the outsides and flip it over from time to time. to distort our own perspective for the sake of learning what it must be like to be someone who can only see things his or her way.
the other side of my coin is people who can't see the value or the reasons to be nice to everyone. judgemental, unaccepting, name-callers. then there's my side that believes that everyone, and everything, is the way they are for a reason.
empirical data shows that those of us (not me) who were seriously pissed on by life, turn out kind of sour. those are usually the ones that end up annoying us. there are people, whoever, whose intrinsicate makeup has allowed them to either seek help, or find it within themselves to change. that requires something inside of them that uniquely allowed them to become a nice person. the rest, well they just didn't have it in them. SO, they are who they are because life pissed on them and they just didn't have what it takes to change. should we blame them for that? that's like blaming ants for being small or blaming me for forgiving them.
yes, i'm discouraged by the inconsiderate way that people park when the snow covers the lines in the parking lot. but that's only because i assume that people are considerate. it's very frustrating, and it hurts to realize that they are not, but i wouldn't change the way i see things for all the parking spots in the world.
july 4 2000 "s"
wednesday invitations abound. i'm crossed between several emoticons now.
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.
*music 'jim.wav' Track #2 on 'Picture This', Jim Brickman 1997