the sky outside my window,
just there above the crispy clear outline of the waving tops of the campground
trees, is that dreamy-washed-blue with the sun's orange hue clinging to
that last light of the day...
september 30 1998
at eight-thirty the flickering glow outside the front window is the
as i watch myself growing away from my center, it feels as though i
angst, angst, and more angst.
september 28 1998
inspired by Rose's hamper, i have aimed at the bottom of the barrel. could it be explained, the magnitude of differences at work? or perhaps all i see is her inability to understand the disorder in which we call our lifestream.and yet i have no proof of this.
no, no proof. for this nor any of what i believe in deeply.
i cannot keep a wrapped towel around my chest.
i'm reaching; with the minute self respect and energy remaining, i'm
reaching out. few can hear me.
chips ahoy and throat coat do not compliment one another. the dicotomy
there shan't surprise me. the rot i feel is real. spray that windex; load
september 26 1998
what is this santa monica
where seashells sparkle and dreams are made of
where only the lonely really know
and the ashphalt, sweating with exhaust
survives the illusions;
what is this ship
which we humans built of chains and toil
breathed life for but a moment
we plow ahead
as life only knows how to do
as creatures of survival
and eternal hope
are all that drive us now.
are all we have ever known,
is not what it is
when you know it
and only our dreams are real
o n l y our d r e a m s
september 23 1998
songs outmode themselves
but they always remain true
in someone's heart -
teetering between happy and headachey
september 22 1998
"you'll never know just how much..i...care"
caring in the shadows of surviving,of late,
odd dreams following me around; the both in the woods, one less disturbing. in a shelter of sorts, laying beside chantal to my left and ? on my right, we weren't actually cold, but it was night at times.
centrally PMSing, there isn't much i see that pleases me. the kitchen is cleaner than clean, dispite a very whirlwind dinner for six of four courses and lots of wild mushrooms, and the only comfort i take is how i will feel when it is over. i'm never a man hater, but what modern medicine puts up with is clearly governed by men. if only pms was constructive, instead.
let's wish it so; and finish the bancha.
september 13 1998
just sitting here juxtaposing the 'mundane and the metaphyscial', watching what is around me go up and down. my own self, still managing to find things to regret regretting; or shall i say learn lessons about. i don't ever think i wanted to hurt anyone but being too self-imposed can end up causing the same results. ultimately, i have very little understanding of what it's like to be someone else. i may have problems with it, but i'm still the best me i know.
being me and watching out for me being me are a handful.
don a sunny september morn, the whrr of the CPU is louder than the closed door. louder than the the twinkling leaves of the maples, and louder than my heartburn, but not extinguished by my regret.
yes, it's a fine line we travel; the road that takes us straight to where we are going and the path which meanders under the light of a God. when it's all you can do to stop trying to be yourself; that wonderful combination of Xs we all can dispise, or adore. and when, oh when, will the great birth of day come that allows me my laurels and affords me my faults in a way that instantly i can re-ice the prize-winning cake and nobody even notices.
here, i reboot.
with things as i drive the decarie. going over in my mind, how real or
not are these web-friends. we've been through this once before. flesh and
bone yes, and also maybe very twice-removed in mindstates. as in the zero
to one perspective; but staring into this monitor makes it worse; i know
it does. i get to face everything now.
i suppose you could say that without this box i am left with myself; facing music a mite discordant. you might also say with it i hold a selectively reflective and somewhat broken mirror. those are the untouched secrets - what graeme would call 'darkest deepest', of which some people have none. in this case the time spent here is reflective, open, and lying. to that i will attest.
"in horoscopes in true romance and playboy magazine
waiting for love won't make it happen
-r.flack and e. mercury
september 9 1998
i sit and relish a last few moments - freedom? not
really. hearty exchanges, and the memory of them, warming my soul.
monday for me
to Russia with love, let's look at what we have here.
i suppose one could call it embarrassing. i will hang my head, and spend
a few pensive moments looking around herself;
september 8 1998
i ran 3 kilometers.
reminicsing over the weekend about a skiing accident in 1981 where i broke my collarbone, i realize now that i broke something else that day. rampant lack of fear.
there have been other lessons taught to me, some recent others more distant now. i did learn from these, each incident changing me forever. yes, my life has been relatively easy, but who's to say not without pitfalls any?
assuming life is easy, can be hard.
september 7 1998
after you go, your surroundings are viewed more objectively. reading the LCBO FREE food and wine magazine after shopping in their cheaper store, i am infuriated that this province has such little accountability. only 'we' put up with a comparatively inferior quality of so many things. a populus seemingly apathetic, and ignorant to the 'normal' offshoots of real commercialism. uninterested? or other things on our minds? i doubt it. bucking the trend by bucking the trend? unlikely.
are we missing something? is there enough beauty in buying beer at every corner store? (i kid not here nor is that question rhetorical)
it doesn't matter how much we complain about our license plates, though. we may very well be the only ones who see what we do. that is the crucial painfulness of it all, stuck inside of this home together, alone.
september 1 1998
pervade what you can with 'you'.
nearly tiny tears this morning;
but a crisp newness is in the air,
happy september, blessed be you.
"and this is precisely what the way of tea has to offer the world, namely, how to transform daily tasks which most people consider drudgery into beautiful expressions of concern for others. In the way of tea this type of transformation is not restricted just to the making or serving of tea, but it can spill over into all of one's daily actions and transform the entire day. The making of a bed, the folding of laundry, walking down stairs, driving a car to work -- instead of racing through these actions with the mind -- set of simply getting them done, savor them as present moments which contain hidden riches, and do them in the most beautiful way. Do them not from egotistical motives of self fulfillment, but rather as gifts to the world that express to those you meet that you really want to present the best to them."
-Brother Joseph Keenan, Ph.D.,FSC
and that, is what the mEp is all about.
The Afternoon Glow
is b i r g h t e n i n g
the b a m b o o s