19hundred and 9ty 8t
March 31, end of march and also tuesday.
still drinking the green tea, can't say it's done any bad to me.
dreaming of filming on ross street and awake to
filming outside our window,
this one is more than cooincidence.
a chill in the air still, but our energy, somewhat
revitalized-is keeping us warm.
the relevance of where we are, where i am, is lost quite often and i am able to
go about my daily affairs, saying thanks, giving praise where it's due, and taking
the time to prepare meals as it should be. the ingredients are crucial, the orchestration
requires more imagination.
running in and out of my corner, lunching watching
jets overhead, and sitting for a
few quiet moments with my friend who's questions lose themselves. it is nice when
there isn't much time to think, but there must be more than only that, the thoughts
that drive me sad. there is an energy that comes from making decisions. what i
need to know is is that controllable, can i be put on a decision diet. always to have
decisions to be made and always to make the correct ones, or at least the ones
which inject the most evergy into my life. that's all i ask for really. but i think i will
have to wait.
you think i'm asking questions around myself,
tossing myself to the proverbial
corner lions. but it's not true. it's not fate. and it's me...not them.
peace to you today and your lions.
March 28 Saturday!
what's taboo? if it's taboo like the book says, who says? cliche's have
reduced to silly one-liners, and taboos to evil things we shouldn't be repressing.
what if someone wanted to call those taboos sacred? who's to say the difference?
there's pleny of stuff that would offend lots of people that doesn't offend me any,
does that mean i've crossed some kind of sacred line? unlikely. you live with
yours and i live with mine. this society isn't ready to even begin talking about
taboos. perhaps it's just another silly word. like the book says,
there still are plenty of taboos to go around.
it is cold here on the southern west coast and the wind is quite fierce.
el nino el nino el nino! the coolness of course should refresh me
and it is not having any such effect. the lentil soup will taste even better.
it's important to open the cupboard and the big cold-machine and find
my mind is awash in east and west/up and down/stop and go/
however, there is still an overiding sense of balance.. .hmmm...
re-hearing wise words in my head, and hammering them into the
deeper parts for perma-keeping.
is there a happy medium, where real life could meet with dreams and ordinary embraces unordinary, who knows. i ain't seen it yet. as i slur thru my ups and downs of being a 'good christian', (for it's the same you realize, as being a 'good person'...) i stop and i wonder if it matters at all. not being a good person, but that there might be a happy medium. balance may come from being alert; proud; selfish, who knows. balance to me is not balance to yee.
anger comes out of so many, in so many ways. i don't always understand
i hope i never accept it into my life; but if it is placed in balance, is that ok?
you tell me.
there are words i can define in a train of speach
and others which require a dictionary.
lunch today, was wonderful i should add.
M arch 27th
mind, really, that McDonalds is where i feel most at home here. i didn't
raise those arches, nor was i raised by them. the ingraination was done
by something more powerful than i, and at
this point in my life, i really don't mind the comforting feeling that comes over me when i walk in
there. really. just thought i'd say that.
so i'm reading back to some of the stuff i have written-and am reminded
of a person who after
meeting me for the first time actually said, 'i thought you'd be different'. and i'm thinking, perhaps this really is my online persona? my outlet for being who i 'wish i was', quote unquote. it is true that strangers reading wouldn't know if i wear long dangly beads or if i sport a pink chanel suit; however, many of the detials are there and they are only to be read and brought together as a whole, using a slight amount of patience...and time... to create in fact, quite a very real picture i thinks. and even the rest of it, the thoughts and stuff-these are quite real too, quite heartfelt, and quite true. i didn't make any of it up. honest.
it's really not that difficult for me to really know what i'm feeling,
most of the time.
i don't watch television and i don't wear make-up. i know how i feel.
i try to express it.
but that n'erely makes me unusual.
sometimes i'm talking to myself, sometimes i'm talking to you.
yeah, that means you.
sometimes i'm talking to everybody, sometimes to absolutely no one.
i just don't like to shout that's all.
sure shouting gets attention but mostly of the shout-acceptors,
who generally shout in return,
and i most definately dislike being shouted at.
when i'm shouting, you'll know.
the counting has ended.
M arch 25th
not count days, days can seem slow. when you're counting them. so why am
let's not count. and what, if you were left in your own world to count the things, yes, your own
little party all by yourself. sometimes it seems that way even though you've decided that you
couldn't live that way. ha, what's the point then. yes, there's a detachment that comes with
time. that's the empty space i want to avoid. you know there still are places on the earth
where people, friends, knock on your door to say hello. they say hi and everyone knows
everyone and for just a few moments everyone stands around the door chit-chatting.
for those moments everyone's got something in common; ties to where they were born,
ties to the space they are sharing, if only for a moment - oh, and they're all standing around the door.
these are still the types of avoidances i deem unacceptable, even though
the old days of
poots place are gone. and i always feel better after going back there, the past but not
the lights are on, because the coffee is gone.
this place is unobtrusive don't think me abusive
nothing's too clean and everything's been placed in a place for it to be used.
and there's a funny dichotomy about spending so much time sitting here
watching that digital clock and talking this digital talk.
eventually you feel alone no matter what happens
and your coccyx gets sore even if you don't know it.
a party is coming what solace does that afford,
when you've dreamt you've been arrested by some rediculous situation
and the woman in the apartment building down the street hauls you in
just as you were getting ready to go out.
but it's true about the party as long as we don't get arrested,
and other things too-events to fill time while i wait for the gathering at the door.
and you may not know why i write here, nor she or he.
of the unexpressible, the moments to hold the world in your arms,
the reality checks and the ability to not be alone.
you may not know you have those needs.
pssst...i don't think they realize that
'crash' is slang for accident
and 'rig' for truck.
M arch 24th
a second day without the java. still looking for the smell, but i can't
say i miss it yet.
a bit of warmth comes back to the air in more ways, and i am sure there are things i am
forgetting. i'm in neutral mode now, after discussing the balance of swinging from right to
left. i'm supposed to sit back and wait for the pendulum ... which is of course what i do most
of the time. i know it will come.
stark contrasts surround me as i watch some being 'the King of the World'
and others drowning
in a terrible helicopter crash nearby. is this part of the balance? what is their relationship to
and a bit of psychosis coming at me from the big guy, i won't let it
topple me. learn to divide
my friend, learn to divide. an unusual circumstance of an extremely emotional person being
put in charge. odd, very odd.
M arch 23d
got this extremely non-macrobiotic sunburn and a certain angst laying over
it doesn't have anything to do with the green tea, and i just plan on riding it out.
only in the morning, does time seem to matter; when i watch that digital
monster tick towards
shower time. i have since, met others who hate showering, but at these moments they give me
little comfort. it is violence, the noise, the cold enamel and having to squeeze my eyes shut so.
so welcome, welcome yourself to this scariest of firsts. it has been
a long time, poots;
too long, for this kind of first. you can do it. any why not, all the other options were violent
in themselves...and now is the time, where you can change, and now you understand
why it didn't happen before. and now is the time for you. you've always watched the
'things'...the objects, the smells, that went into such a style of living-you watched from
the outside, mostly, understanding, but not being ready. see? you're waking up...
the weekend was a dwirhl of events-some
calming, some energizing. you are left
somewhat shaken, worried about him, and wondering what will become. this is not
a time for conclusions, my little friend. this is a time to lean back and drink your tea.
M arch 20th
the 20th? already? oh. my absence notwithstanding, became pulled into au
upward swirl there for a moment, on my way to the top of something only
i perceived. is this that childhood excitement, or has it evolved into
an adultish foolsgold? when did all this raspberry scheming begin, anyway?
with her i suppose, but no one would call it an evil thing. let's float back down now, swaying from side to side; licking the petals on the way down, and try to land head-up, feet first. dreaming appropriate dreams of flying, in worlds i have never been before, with people i have never seen.
was it greece? or switzerland?
"i was kissing valentino by a crystal blue italian stream"
so one idea has become the first has become something
i all of a sudden, don't recognize.
have i pissed off too many people? quiet on the e-front, i'm past feeling alone. desires of
telephoning the past were transformed into wild ideas, and now i'm just left with me, and an
empty inbox. but i can't sound too upset or lonely, remember ... i'm 3,000 miles from home.
i push back my now cropped little boy hair, and
heave a sigh. is it relief, angst, hope, despair,
or just the breath of another day to come? these are the high-energy days, leaving me often
too pensive once things have settled; as is observed here. i cannot grab those things i once
had, can't hold or caress them. this voyage which i will now identify as a true time-warping,
has left me powerful and powerless; a dichotomy i dispise.
M arch 18th
awake than yesterday; when i wake i hear the 'workin' song' as i call it,
"and if i'm late well then i guess i just won't get paid-
these are the days when you wish your bed was already made-
just another manic monday"
there's such an element of beauty in this song, dispite its subject. maybe you've got to be
from the east to feel it, rushing to a bus in the snow, when the city is alive and you smell coffee
on every corner. i haven't seen it here and perhaps i never will again...who knows.
i know it's not monday but who could appreciate that song when it really is monday.
it is wednesday-injustices still go on-and my little part is what i
can do. children in plano
seem to be lost and too rich-who is to blame, is blame required in order to find a solution
and could it all be related back to one incident, that's what i wonder. my tar-like java sits in
front of me so i know how it feels to <need> a drug - and this is a drug i first drank while sitting
on my mothers lap. perhaps a twelve year old child feels the same about heroin, and then
there is no turning back. banish the drugs, i guess that is easier said than done-get it out
of the schools-also easier said than done- ... - ... - ... - ... how about teach the kids to sit on
their mother's laps...
busier days now, saving the macintosh-clad ones and finding a moment
to sit with
a woman with sharp humour skills - amongst herbals teas and little licorice.
a phone call from an old friend and colleague brought me back to a place and time
yesterday - as he prepares to leave that place as i once did. we were two of the
originals, put together by happenstance, and now somewhat connected for good.
that makes me smile, you know, having a history other than childhood.
he's off to new york, and then i realized again, that i think i've accomplished it.
together, we've done it.
"you're the meaning in my life, you're the inspiration
wanna have you nead me, wanna have you hear me saying
no one needs you more than i need you"
wo, that's a headrush - music that brings back memories so vividly, i can smell them.
M arch 17th/
one poof! and the coffee is everywhere. out in the morning sun, little birds are chirping up a storm. we're all wondering what i dreamt over those long hours of slumber...and when will this tepid java even muster any awakeness. the gears are going but the eyes are not fast this morning. a slight amount of neck-angst hangs over me and why, no one knows. there is a story to tell - somewhere between these ears; but before life invades me i can't tell you what it is.
so now you have it, much about me dull and between my ears; but no more duller in Gods eyes, nor in mine that those wonderful nobodies... nevermind. that was cheating anyways. it's not nice to fool mother nature. but the way i hear things and how they are processed between those ears, is what i can enjoy and love to share. to d a n c e , where everyone is free. let's wish everyone were free, of course.
i told you i was never awake then.
this space slowly reaching a more cleanly state. something called sandalwood is nicer as it fades away; ramona and roswell enojoying each other's company-(ramona has a boyfriend!) and the really big deep fryer is coming in handy, apparently they can't be bought here. some delicious fish filets and my favourite, sauteed brussel sprouts probably still linger above it. chopin sounding music now in the mild distance, and tucked away into the large closet, a very large pile of laundry. tee hee.
but it's the only way i know how, it's the way i understand things... really.
M arch 16th/
tall- look straight ahead, and walk. if you happen
to be seeing what someone else is doing; particularly if it seems that
it is in your path, merely look at it, and continue looking straight ahead.
know what you know, do what you do - if you are fortunate enough to be
sometimes you will be going in the wrong direction, sometimes you'll be in last place. but if you keep looking dead ahead, it won't matter. they may choose forums for discussing things with the public because they don't have personal devotions, or perhaps they have stopped writing entirely, feeling you left slightly in the cold, the rain, a sitting duck without a hat. you watch them talk of love, of flowery devotions-of children and sexuality, each containing its own wonders. but you, are you; and as Leo once said, you are the only combination of you that ever was. i am me and you are you. it's hard to draw the line between what we accept as us and what we want for us; because the two are already connected though we may not know it.
i miss my online friends greatly, electronically as well as face to face. when i arrive here now, i am making myself feel somehow inadequate, alone, leftover like a potato. turning to new sources of inspiration is only working because some kind of reality is setting back in. the time warp is evolving into a little bit of power now, a sense of knowing where i am and what the heck am i doing. fewf.
well i've made it past tossing my runners in the boys bathroom and making out on the side of the house. seem to have hurdled a few other things too with a little help, and now some darn goal of being able to write has also been conquered. yes. yes. i could even do better, i know i could.
M arch 15th/
we're here now. (excuse the roller coaster ride) but welcome to us,
blades in the right hand and shades in the left-we've crossed an invisible barrier. not the
first and not the last, but an important one. i cannot stress how difficult it is to word so much
of what is going on, which of course is the hardest part. not being able to articulate, i mean.
one second you're nothing, the next you're on top of the world - ... even from so far south.
what is romantic? romance is inside you, and romance doesn't exist.
much like glamour;
"glamour assumes that one's worth is meaured by the envied attention of others"
-Tom Bent Kowski, Life Magazine.
romance is perceived from the outside in. contrived, created, and untangible,
we decide what is romantic not by what we feel or do but by what we want to feel.
romance is fleeting; yet permanent when real. flowery and untouchable,
true romance cannot be created, designed, nor experienced. my twenty-foot flowing
train of silk was extremely romantic, but very, very, unreal.
it's a picture to me now, and was a picture in the future, to me then.
i'm not much for it, but heres the
a d v i c e f o r t h e d a y :
1. debutantes make better neighbors than corpses.
2. beer tastes much better when you deserve it.
3. sand is like ice, when you hit it - just coast...
M arch 14th/
ever get the urge to call a feeling? just pick up the phone and call the
sometimes, its' not a particular person you want to talk to, but an era.
and if not, then if could only speak to the indigo girls, jewel, and paula cole -
just to converse face to face with the originator of music that captures time for me.
saturday now going about my affairs. a spotless bathroom follows my
and tummy full of coffee yogurt. free air moves around as i begin to plan this evenings
dinner. the bills are paid and the calculations complete. the effects of which are the
settling of a certain portion of my cerebral cortex, albeit a small part. still many things
going on however-taxes to mail, hair to be cut, messages left, and recycling messiness.
he works. i work.
M arch 13th/
i think i am still as passionate as i was as a child. redirected, focused, and smoothed out about the edges, it is merely harder to recognize now. it's not that i have lost things, but in gaining around me-my level of passion only appears to have dropped. i think i am content in this hole. i've still got to grapple with finding an edge once in a while-but something that i never understood as a child is that external stimuli really and actually do affect us. we cannot affect the external forces as much as we want to, and therefore must often accept what comes our way. for some, this is harder; some, impossible-and of course there are still some who never see it coming and don't even know what is going on until it is over. i fit in here somewhere. rejecting redirecting and redefing. i do hope any of this applies to you too.
you see, they don't all talk about television. but they do all talk about themselves.
so this small black book then, a reflection of they, them, those...asking
questions about ourselves-
is this supposed to help them talk even more? i wonder, then. but then again i'm not going to expend my limited hole-climbing energy trying to understand them they, those. so then, that explains why i bought this book. so then, i don't need television do i? hmmm....
and in talking about spirituality i fall flat. i have no more conclusions than the last time we discussed christianity. some answers i have, some questions i have.
i brought a mug 3,000 miles away. it lived there; it is only visiting here.
M arch 12th/
caffeinated hangover talk. erratic things because the world is spinning. big internet events are very exciting with a great energy in the air that makes you feel like super mario. picking up an engineer afterwards who is seated at a large cool-looking desk. is it spring? do we really carry the freshness with us? because i can feel it, the buds budding and the snow melting. the inertia is transformed when i am seated but it disappears quickly.
thursday already. 7.37 not an airplane just the time. little poots is
wearing her hat, and the java from the Bens deli mug swirls around her
stomach. she wants to get up and go and she wants to stay and write more.
all things considered; the body is ok. stretching helps the cricks and
if there were words i could put here to describe spring, i would. if
there were phrases once said, that would deliver a smell of melting ice
on the sidewalk, paragraphs once writ, which could make someone, anyone,
you, understand the patience that canadian nature displays every year,
i would write them. anyone would-but there is none. it is a set of characteristics
that perhaps contributes to
that 'feeling' the new yorker couldn't put his finger on. a sense of calm, a stretching of time. it is, the truly greatest of all canadianisms.
i have bought a strange book.
page 10 reads:
One person you would have killed in your thoughts: __________________________________
One person you might kill if you knew the law would protect you: __________________________________
If there were no side effects, you would enjoy being addicted to __________________________________
As an adult, you have hit a woman: [ ] yes [ ] no
if yes, why? __________________________________
M arch 11th/
warmer now, i cannot say. spirits sink when i think about it. little sets
of typing covering
stickers on binding, and envelopes filled with musical reform that i have been asked to apply
to learning hungarian. email in-email out-and a large stitch right in the center of my ribcage ow.
M arch 10th/
oh gosh m'gosh. fencing it again, i've got one half on the up and another,
somewhere on the down.
wish i knew which were which, would sure make life easier. taxes, internet bills, a little stability spinning me around now and where will i end up, the same as always i can guess that much. learning more things i wish i didn't have to, one day they will become my own common knowledge and i will cohabitate with them peacefully. draggin, picking up tidbits along this road and looking for some kind of strength to get me into an excercise class, art or cooking forum, or just plain jogging down the road. i can't say i'm lazy because i wish i did more but i can't say that i do what i wish i did either.
we've been off having a 'real' weekend as readers of rant 3 can see, connecting us with some kind of reality that although pleasurable, caused me great sadness. yep, these are the days alright. the 30-something days we dreamed about. the whole thing together is a bit much for me right now. forcing the memories early and stretching the past to meet the future, these are the kind of emotions i think we've been trying to avoid. when i say personal time warp, i mean it. i'm not too sure if i like where i'm at since i don't know where i'm going, and i'd like to say that it's a breath of fresh air but that was supposed to happen in another time.
egg and i go back to 1980. in this former life, we grabbed
everything very tightly.
including each other-until life turned course and we were separated for 11 years.
then, thanks to another warping of time, one that was much easier to take,
our spaces joined again, this time for good. those two years back when i was 15
were an eternity, a life lived in a life. now, the past 5, a blink of an eye, a roller coaster ride.
sometimes, i just hang on and try not to scream.
M arch 9th/
egg and i go back a long way. his passion never ceases to amaze me.
"enjoy life while it's there"
and other words of wisdom encircle me as i seem to spiral through some kind of personal time warp.
M arch 5th/
someone's off in a new pair of blues jeans
today they're thick but he'll wear them thin,
you feel brand new in a new pair of blue jeans
i know this cause i fit right in.
how real does science fiction ever become? i would imagine that we are
not ever, able to determine this. violation of our mechanical parts isn't
quite here yet, but then again, recycling
boxes would have seemed a cruel oddity, to those levittowners, only 46 hears ago...
this is my science fiction. stark reality in my mind, capable of creating
worlds of my own-dotted with imagery and unimaginables, yet tinged with
blurred edges, making it somewhat of a dream sequence for all who venture.
if the idea isn't yours, you'll never really understand it.
is the hardest part of all, for those of us who lead lives of our own.
but alas, the cereal be downed; hot java infused; and the little honeywell
that matches this box
makes an awful racket.
d n e s
d a y
and so there they were, four of them, huddled in the room with glass
walls. not much about their backsides gave them away. not a person owned
those turned heads, no life, no smiles, no hope.
"hi everyone-if you have any questions, i'm here to help out so please don't hesitate to ask me"
from then on, it was like a computer parade. all four shot up in the air, hands of musicians,
engineers and teachers. the barage of interaction that followed was a miracle. stories of elizabeth taylor, glee clubs and musical reform. lives lived in there. smiles as wide as tommorrow too, and plenty, oh plenty of hope . . . you only gotta ask.
well i would imagine it's high time for me to mosey on outta here, there's a world out there ya know.
i'll be back.
texture begins. texture ends, and it begins again. it's a learning process,
it's a growing phenomenon. time must be present. back to march,
one of my favorites. warm toastiness surrounds me, soon to be natural.
chewing my lip i wonder why she stopped.
and why won't my right hand warm up already.
feelings can be defended. opinions cannot. they can hurt and they can
my feelings are that my right hand is cold; so they limit their world to such niceties i can't believe how i spend my days. imagining soon that i will wake from a dream to find myself part of the bigger joke too.
how am i feeling? i am feeling that my back is too far bent over. i'm feeling that my fingers spend too much time in the arched position. i am feeling that i would like to move around, myself or my belongings. i am feeling bored. and listening to everyone else around me with not enough time to even take a bath; i do not feel guilty. i do not feel spoiled. i feel angry. and with only myself to blame i feel less than a perfect ten. and wanted to be sure that i make no choices based on bouncing off of these walls. to be sure that my position is always the strongest; mentally and in all ways. succumbing to the laziness as i do, blame piles on blame piles on blame and here i am left, sitting, staring at the little blond girl in the mirror; which no longer exists.
things change, slowly. round and back again.
like being a part of evolution, only crustaceans don't interest me much.
marching along, it's actually almost spring er, well down
here anyways. mentioning
that is cruelty for some but here it is a non-issue i would guess. over the weekend
much motion around us, movings and sunshine. beach walks and beautiful folk
lined up in a row, i cannot picture them at home cooking food? perhaps they wonder
things of me too. perhaps. and then a day of cleaning, a treat when the mood is right.
phonecalls confirming more visitors and a week to look forward to. fighting a mild.
multiple inboxness, useless information to me alas. bunches
shouting me me me
and my resistance to join in. it's ok here by myself, i tell myself... there really isn't
much to say. perhaps the yellow is blinding, i wonder if it will prove stimulation or
annoyance. we'll see.
another bowl of cereal and i'd better find some energy to yust get up.
a thought process:
music that swirls my mind back to a time and place
barrely recognize as mine, anymore. who are those people n