The MEP Index
Hey! Looky here! It's not October anymore. The MEP Index may actually be of some use to you now. Oh, and remember, the page begins at the bottom...
November has been split...My Examples Project
November 26 i guess, since yesterday was the 25th.
Today is an idea bigger than the rest. Today is taken too lightly maybe. Many songs have been written about today, about the fact that today is all we really know, all we have. But, how to dissect goals from today? can you really live in today, in the truest sense, and still have goals? how do people do this?
Whatever I write here, my own. Whatever thoughts come into my head,
they are mine.
Natalka Husar. Ukranian descent, Canadian, painter.
Some people are so good at describing themselves...so good at dissecting what they do, what messages they are getting across. Is it practice? I am practising too. Practising to find the right words, phrases and means of communication which will eventually, form a body of knowledge about myself. About the inside of me, the part that I don't even know. Ideas like Today and Natalka Husar swimming around my head, spewed out on paper to become a description of who I am. Wondering if there is perhaps another mode of communication which would be better and thinking about it constantly. Art? Fiction? Stories? Pottery? Which medium will truly capture my essence? Allowing me to feel embodied in something other than myself? God only knows that everyone can do this if they wanted to. It is the freedom required to do so which is difficult, I guess.
thinking in parcels. acting in parcels. events and situations are not separate, should not be distinct from one another and yet they are. divisive i guess. i know that they are not, really...but it is difficult to see them as one.
there's coffee left in my mug today.
so what's going on here?...i haven't really had a chance to dissect it yet...
lately getting very pissed off that i won't be able to know the history which is now.
what will they call the latter part of the 20th century? what feeling will they attribute to it?
what mood will it have, and do i represent that mood? will i be proud to have been part of it?
will it be seen as truly romantic, as berdj says, or will it be known as the dawning of the material age?
very annoying indeed. interesting how the worries of the afterlife seem
to be changing.
first, just fear. fear of unknown.then, very selfish...i won't be able to do this, i won't be able to do that...
Then, the thought of not being able to know what was going on...what inventions are to be invented,
what music composed, what paintings painted.
now this. never knowing the history which we are creating, now. The history which - in a sense, a feel an
integral part of-and in a sense, not at all. It will be a history, though. It will have a mood, a name, a niche.
other than that/gotta get brain in gear/take a deep breath/outside/snow/cold/monday.
Oh, such are the dreams of the everyday housewife..
you see everywhere any time of the day...
The everyday housewife, who gave up the good life for me..
Now there's a phenomenon that didn't last long.
--- - --- - --- - --- - --- - --- - --- - --- -
when i can't quite put my finger on how i feel, i sing.
and when i feel free, i dance.
-- --- -- --- -- --- -- ---
at relative peace now.
peaceful relative to those around you. it's not a mental peace
but more of a physical peace. It is not the kind of peace that is easily
disturbed by thoughts. will i be late this morning? will it snow?
the words come slower, but mean more. the coffee tastes stronger.
relative peace is when you can walk around the mall, and enjoy the objects
there. stroll through the bookshop knowing exactly what you don't want;
and what you find is exactly what you want.
relative peace is not the kind of peace that you can share. it is a lonely
peace, in a sense, but the lonliness comforts.
the Webster people are annoyed that we still call them Websters.
They want us to call them Mirriam-Websters.
do you feel it?
is it enough to know who one is surrounded by?
...is it enough to know who you are?
...what you can accomplish in the face of others and what their actions do or do not mean?
blows are hard very hard. but only the strong survive..and i am strong.
i wonder how many times i must tell myself that.
what are the options to living in a world like this.
full of lies deceipt corruption.
everyone tells me not to fight it but i cannot stand back and watch. i donít want to save the whales or anything, i just want to save me. i know the truth. when willsomeone finally realize that? but! if there are milllions who live the other truth,
then which is in fact the truth?...your truth tells you who you are.
problem is, the same truth tells you who they are.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - -
you wish you could see the world thru their eyes
or DO you?
what would i forsake to see the goals they see? this is no better.
and my dreams are going away.
writing isnít helping so i will go on.
- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- o
this applies to everyone, if you are able to see that, then you know
what i am talking about. i donít want to fight for my rights. i donít want to
fight the ones motivated by things i do not believe in, to get what i deserve.
i donít want to play their game...which game shall i play?
well the answer to that is, i donít want to play any game.
i like the game of life.
i say that life is fair.
i say that people are kind.
i say that there is beauty.
i say that the world does not revolve around money.
i say that i will and cannot be someone i am not in order to
get ahead.of course this is easy for me because i do not want the same
things as they do.
of course i end up miserable because a part of me does want what they have,
what others think of them in their childish ways and petty values. ergo my dilemma.
i wonder if anyone has any therapy for me? can this upbringing be reversed?
i like my reality checks. i like the connectedness i feel to them even though
i am not one of them. i do not want to detach completely. i do not want to live in a cave.
i do not want to grow my hair long.
i know where there is a will there is a way.
if i tell myself this enough times and i am really really patient, then perhaps it will come.
in the mean time
i must continue to pray
November 20 1996
greetings fellow ramonians...
trying desparately to find a bit of silence inside my silence.
leftover angst from yesterday
and the torture of eating more (relatives) of ramona lurks in me.
she still loves me but unless i give her a voice does she have one?
i think sonotsonotsonotsonotsonotsonotsonot
we must not let ourselves feel as one of many, in making these
kind of decisions (ramona is a cow...) but in fact we are one in many.
and others have done it before me. berdj for one.
what of berdj? i do miss him.
giving myself four minutes to rap this up...
showers are so time inneffecient...not to mention the water they
waste. i wonder if anyone out there hates showers as much as i do?
not rain showers, i love those. work, i tell you, work.
two more minutes!!! snow on the ground. webs in my head.
websy websy websy. i know now why i don't have counters and
Well on that note here is a a photograph
which I find simply precious of
my niece, home from summer vacation...
November 18, 1996:
ramona and the bodyguards are here with me,
facing the music and i can too.words talk alone.
what we have as little bit of our time.
- - - - - - - - - - -
lay me over your eyes with a vision of who you think i am
press closer to something you cannot define;
compare and construct whatever you like
but remember as i do, nothingís divine.
The basket of essence they seem to become
going in this one
having properties attached
which no one can see
and always just fleeting
as you are to me.
once the washing is done and the remnants are dry
the pity is taken and guilt is divided
the lives are corralled for the masses to meet
and the lonely of lonely, lay, at your feet.
- - - - - - -
returning home recently
someone was there
waiting as i was
alone on a stair.
a small little hug
and a smile of delight
re-entered my life
as i knew she might.
you have control of yourself;but none of others.
you have control over your actions but not your emotions.
you have control over your breakfast;but not your dinner.
you have control over everything;and nothing at all.
your words bite. your words heal. your words tempt. they steal. they
free some and leave others trapped
they dance with Ramona they climb every mountain
so you want to become a better person.
should you do this by being honest, or by pretending to be someone youíre not.
should you risk friends? true friends come back. i see that now. wow. a friend!
very exciting.thereís lots of things that i would LOVE to write here you know my
true feelings thoughts. Would they lock me up? maybe. better not risk it eh? Is there a way to do this diplomatically? I doubt it. I am not entirely dimplomatic,
says she. Nor business like.
instead of rubbing myself all over
bathing myself in myself or am i doing that too?
Whenever i sit to evaluate my level of happiness; it seems that i am often wrong. these words remind me that although life may have been simpler then, it was certainly more complicated...
"I swear she thinks i am five years old...she said i had to be in at 10:00. she says i manoeuvered my way into being allowed out until 11- my ass, I asked her one night and she distinctly said 'eleven'. She says i am sassy to a jerk brother." (august 1980).
"and when i hurt; hurtin' runs off my shoulders,
how can i hurt when holdin' you?"-Neil Diamond
november 16, 1996.
expression. knowing what you in fact do feel...
and then writing about it.
the words do not read back to me; they are me.
you don't care what i did today
because i don't.
it's not in what we do or when we do it.
it's not in who we see, what we eat, where we go.
it's inside you. it's why you do it.
it's who you touch and what you feel.
you don't bring me flowers.....
- - - - - - - - - - -
pother says she...or rant, as said he?
i wonder more real things. what kind of mail system do they use?
STOP 4 pedestrian:
a lady with a cane
she seems to be quite hurried;
she thinks it's going to rain.
STOP 4 pedestrian
whoever walks before your tracks
a four year old Parisian
who won't step on the cracks:
STOP 4 pedestrian
your benz jaguar and royce
with regulations ruling us
is there such a thing as voice?
STOP 4 pedestrian;
what are you visually handicapped?
its really not a person
and you are really trapped
for Ricky Walter.
in a world loaded with ideologies and false pretense;
if we could pull the trigger,
we wouldn't understand the BANG!
"Every square creature in Flatland sees another square as merely a short line segment, the side of the square nearest to him. He can see the other side of the square only by taking a short walk. But the Inside of a square is forever mysterious, unless some terrible accident or autopsy breaches the sides and exposes the interior parts. One day a three-dimensional struture - shaped like an apple, say, comes upon Flatland, hovering above it. Observing a particularly attractive and congenial-looking square its flat house, the apple decides, in a gesture of interdimensional amity, to say hello. "How are you?" asks the visitor from the third dimension. "I am a visitor from the third dimension." the wretched square looks about his closed home and sees no one. What is worse, to him it appears that the greeting, entering from above, is emanating from his own flat body, a voice from within. A little insanity, he perhaps reminds himself gamely, runs in the family. Exasperated at being judged a psychological aberration, the apple descends into Flatland. Now, a three dimensional creature can exist, in Flatland, only partially; only a cross section can be seen, only the points of contact with the plane surface of Flatland. An apple slithering through Flatland would appear first as a point and then progressively larger, roughly circular slices. The square sees a point appearing in a closed room in his two dimensional world and slowly growing into a near circle. A creature of strange and changing shape has appeared from nowhere.
Rebuffed, unhappy at the obtuseness of the very flat, the apple bumps
the square and sends him aloft, fluttering and spinning into that mysterious
third dimension. At first, the square makes no sense of what is happening;
it is utterly outside his experience. But eventually he realizes that he
is viewing Flatland from a peculiar vantage point; "above". he
can also see into closed rooms. He can see into his flat fellows. He is
viewing his universe from a unique and devastating perspective. Traveling
through another dimensions provides, as an incidental benefit, a kind of
X-ray vision. Eventually, like a falling leaf, our square slowly descends
to the surface. From the point of view of his fellow Flatlanders, he has
unaccountably disappeared from a closed room and the distressingly materialized
from nowhere. "For heaven's sake," they say, "What happened
to you?" "I think," he finds himself replying, "I was
'up'" They pat him on his sides and comfort him. Delusions always
ran in his family."
-Carl Sagan, Cosmos, Carl Sagan Productions 1980 p262-263
exhausted eyes and brain. preparing for the heart too.
one swoop and woooosh! gone before me. everything.
one swipe to lower, how many to raise?
anyways i do not have enough strength in me for another one.
i will bail out if that is the case.
i know that i cannot accept it again.
why do we do this?
weaving weaving. stop. remember who you are. but why the heck is that so hard, when you need it the most? where are they,
when you really truly need them?
how many times can they save you before you learn to do it yourself?
yep. we both hate it, needing them.
loud and clear.
what would Jim do?
Jim wouldn't be here in the first place.
What is today?
Is today a fleeting moment amongst many,
to be cast aside in the tomorrows of life?
Is today the most beautiful and only perception of time
that we can possible know?
Is today the realization of dreams and the most grueling sorrows?
Is today the time we have to spend with everyone else while widdling
away at the years we call life?
Is today the sweet love of my lover...
or is today the hatred and emptiness in a coworkers eyes?
Is today the mere snippet of what we know or is today
everything and anything we will ever know?
Who am I today?
While 351 perish, 750,000 others risk cholera,starvation, and desparation,
we worry about arguing about normal things...
walking to the car, wondering what's the deal. plastic, metal, cars, engines, leather bags, what's the deal? Who made all this stuff? Who to give credit to? Certainly not the same species responsible for crimes we cannot understand...
What can we tell them?
That cars and leather bags replace lives?
should we re-name technology?
Today is sweeping Wednesday and (sweep sweep)
I, do have a smile. I do have a friend.
quite far away and waiting behind a curtain, a certain *smiley*
watches with me.
"no, i'm just busy, i've got other things on my mind"
"well hurry up and get it over with"
"why can't we argue about normal things?"
"these are normal things"
(begin to move my foot)
Jees! I'm so pissed that I won't be around in a couple thousand years to read the history of the Aids virus.
Today is dry cleaners day.
I pray for the dry cleaners, inside those big bright windows, arranging clothing suffocated in plastic bags. They have to buy and install large racks which will drag the clothing up...up...up...
i think we like each other more in the winter.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Family,
Little soft puppies,
and kittens galore,
mamas and papas
who snore and they snore,
five little kiddies,
asleep and in bed,
but baby is making some holes in her head!
Sister is crying, afraid of the dark,
Doggie is also,
all he does is bark.
Kitten and brother,
asleep and in bed,
But mama and papa
are fixing holes in baby's head!
yikes. again yikes. You gotta wonder, eh? Sure explains my fascination
"When I became a man, I put away childish things
- including the fear of childishness, and the desire to be grown up." - C.S. Lewis.
"Let me get something across which is very important. When I read
what I have written, it looks and sounds more cheery than I feel." -April 1982
I cannot wait until I am the superior one in the house and no one will
venture near my diaries. I wonder if I will still write when I am married?
ah the times how they change...
Words are ours.
Many many things are not of our choosing,
but words, both written and spoken, can come
from wherever we choose.
personal is in the eyes of the beholder;
what they do not and cannot understand.
I the hell, for one.
Perhaps interested, and devient. Perhaps neither. In this the beauty,
the freedom. The centeredness.
I really wish i could do the same actually. risk my job my friends, very tempting, very indeed. Like the show next door. people who thrive in this society are those who are so full of themselves, so pompous. that's why we have little control over our fate. we are selected for not against. We would like to think that we are selected for based on the qualitites that we learn to be good, but in fact we are selected based on the environment, and the two are not at all the same. The pompous ones selected for because of exactly the opposite; little remorse, little thought, little guilt...This is not a Lamarkian world we live in, and we did not create the environment which selects us. this is why it is difficult to predict. The masses, enjoy to be masses. The leaders, enjoy to be leaders. We see a lot of turmoil but in fact most are happy in their positions. some of us, can see both sides and are frustrated in doing so. Or maybe we are simply blessed with a desire to have something we do not. This, unfortunately, is a trait that is not selected for. So, shall I simply be glad with what I have, in order to be selected for, or do I live what I feel to be true, and remain thoughtful, introspective and guilty?
It is easy to write your thoughts for all the world to see.
What is difficult, is accepting them yourself.
November 11, 1996.
how am i deciding what is mine and what is hers? i don't know, i am
december 2, 1977.
november 11, 1996.
bored boring boreful boredom bord room bores
My opinion doesn't much matter here. It's the interpretation which counts most. There's plenty of room for opinion in this life. But that's just my opinion.
November 9, 1996.
most people find it uncomfortable dealing with work colleagues on a 'personal' level. i find it difficult dealing with all humans on a 'business' level.
a long term one.
women put makeup on in front of other women...bizarre...comb their hair
during the day...stranger still...where did my womaness go?
i sometimes choose to leave the i's small. reminiscent of whispering,
it is a form of 'tutoyer-ing'. it brings me closer.
imagine the shock when i learned that Italy is not Italy at all, but 'Italia'. How dare we teach our children it's Italy! Similar to the surprise i had when i learned that i cannot predetermine the font here in the land of html. What? No fonts? How can I write without my 'comic sans ms'? Smattering of 'Lucida handwriting'? romantic 'marigold'? Akin to a short air tube...for me.
This is certainly one way not to lose anything.
I wonder what happened to the Keane brothers? I wonder if anyone else on this planet even remembers them? They probably either have their own web site, are playing in some underground bar as 80's punk rockers, or are suits. I guess you could say the same about anyone, really.
she likes the tiger. i didn't eat my banana today. K.
heart palpitations now, from exhaustion.
he heard a little' girls voice last nite
The natural state of a lineage, is to record events, births, deaths,
and pass those records on. oh i still write in my paper diary, of course
i do. who cares if i brushed my teeth today or not? My grandfather doesn't
know this, but it is because of him that i write here, and anywhere. He
lived, for me, in his writing, sketches and paintings. As a child, I suppose
I thought that everyone had access to their grandfather's writings. It
was normal for me to see history in this way. How can you continue to live,
if you never write it down? With his words and dates, written in fountain
pen ink, I saw his life in front of me, his very essence, his nature. That
is the only way to go on. If I did not have my writing, I would die with
The natural state of a lineage, is to record events, births, deaths, and pass those records on. To be able to touch the very ground your forefathers/mothers worked on, lived on.
good breeding qualities
you're a toughie
another dream about A. Ramona was there too.
"The Girl with the Flaxen Hair"
Prelude Debussy, Book of Preludes
M. Maxwell used to call me "The girl with the flaxen hair".
That was probably one of the most beautiful names anyone ever called me...
At total peace today.
"That's my objective too... Peace"
The natural state of a lineage, is to record events, births, deaths,
and pass those records on. To be able to touch the very ground your forefathers/mothers
worked on, lived on. To look out of the same windows they did.
"On the radio talking of indulgences...and how good they are for
you. chocolate, wine, fatty foods...the reason Americans are so fucked
up by them is that when they eat them they feel guilt, not indulgence.
Europeans, on the other hand, eat these foods with no guilt and therefore
has a positive effect on them, on their bodies. These foods are indulgences,
that it certain, but when eaten as such, can be taken in a dealt with in
a positive way."
"you've been saying this all the while"
"If you eat something, and you're stressed by it, then it's bad. But if you eat it and you enjoy, letting yourself be indulged by it, it actually benefits you, both mentally and physically. Now aspartame is being linked to brain cancer. Go figure!"
"You were right about these things...but let's draw the line there"
The natural state of a lineage, is to record events, births, deaths, and pass those records on. To be able to touch the very ground your forefathers/mothers worked on, lived on. To look out of the same windows they did. To read the words they wrote and to live in their image.
Now what is she getting at?
losing information, evil...
Let's play and pretend she doesn't think I am evil, but that cutting any connection would be.
remember we are free to interpret
The natural state of a lineage, is to record events, births, deaths, and pass those records on. To be able to touch the very ground your forefathers/mothers worked on, lived on. To look out of the same windows they did. To read the words they wrote and to live in their image. This is the meaning.
about a thousand people gathered for handouts...
Drinking water containing chlorine which may cause cancer...THM
Ontario. THM responsible for 500 cases of cancer eash year. 140 fatal.
most colon and cancer. Risk after 35 years of drinking.
But what can we tell them?
She is absolutely right. Losing Information is evil.
Hello. Today I am sick. Today people are dying. Some are being born,
some giving birth. lucky them. Blink of an eye. To have a wire hooked
up into my brain which would record every thought in it, using the perfect
Is it possible for children to appreciate history? some must.
I didn't. It seems that there is a certain amount of time,
different for each, that one must have lived before understanding
that events which happened in the past are in fact, relevant to the
present. but it is an abstract concept, to fundamentally understand
that what we know today is in fact based on what happened in the past.
a fascinating thought for me, who often feels like a living legacy of
the past - living not in the past, but vicariously through it. As if
i am merely here to drag the events and time from then to now, and on
into the future. Sometimes it feels like one big deja vu. Seeing the
similarities in family, genes passing themselves on and on, and knowing
that this will continue to happen.
Do we really like review, or is it just that certain grooves in
our brain are so deep that it feels good to caress them? Have
certain of these grooves been dug in the distant past? Or are
we simply simpler. One thinks of history when one is sick because
one wants to be in it. Or anyplace but here, head throbbing and fingers
November 5, 1996
grr. grr. don't come too close.
yawn yawn and yawn.
barely thinking barely awake
mourning the lost ones
skin and bones
cobwebs in my mind
clarity not found today
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
yeah, that's it. we've got similarities he and I. Answering questions with not only the answer, but the reason behind the answer. An explanation, a bit of brain. Some introspection required! Calling occupants....introspection...Can you say Introspection?
Oh well. If the answer's good enough for you,
The chain goes on..
you think your life fucking sucks
read through a few cvs and it makes your life look a whole lot better.
if you don't want to do it in the future, don't put it on your fucking resume!" -MG.
Ahh. Some good advice every once in a while never hurts.
November 4, 1996:
But, I was also fascinated by Leo Buscaglia's "Love" and do think that love is the most important and complicated thing on earth. Unfortunately, I also feel that a great many people never know love and therefore cannot understand any of what we are saying, cannot pass love on, and ultimately, break the chain of love required for love to have any major worldy effects...
Essentially, the message is a good one. Love your neighbor as yourself, learn wisdom, understanding, forgiveness.
Where else do we learn these things? Many assume that they are not teachable...
If you had not been loved, this becomes difficult to understnad. Is this where the plan is broken, where the master plan fails? If you want to teach the world to sing, they must know the lyrics first...
And the love thing crystallizes. Love for addictions, passion, furry reeds by the roadside, dancing jigs in your head to Irish music... Being harvested by a huge blade and falling together in a huge row...like the dancers with the green skirts and small soft black shoes..pouncing left and right and around... pointing toes and turning to the rhythm...
Then the message which we recieved and understood simultaneously, together. The message of love, essentially, a very unlikely place and time for us to have such realizations...however appreciated and enlightening...becoming carolynesque,,,
that the root of it all is love. that in order to have love, you must give love. To know love, you must believe in love. To love others, you must love yourself. Everyone knows this right but do we know why we know it? Do we really believe it>? Understand it? Ask yourself this. I hate Moot Points because they are Moot. It's a moot point whether or not it's a Moot point because if you have love, and know you do, you know this already. If you do not, then you may be looking for it or you may not even know you don't have it. It is so very hard to be an example. Examples require what? I am sure they require something...
Greetings. Meet Brandy, Otis, and Denver.
the PEN. Bull Pen, Play Pen, Pig PEN.
sleepy sleep too heavy lids nod and yawn and pumpkin pie
You see, people don't see meaning in things because they are not looking for it. Do they even know to look for it? sometimes I doubt it, they don't know that Ramona is capable of giving them love...they don't know that there's more ..yeah but then I always end up at the same problem as before... They have things in the way, We must remember this always, they often have things in the way...
What the hell is wrong with you tonight,
I can't seem to say or do the right thing,
Wanted to be sure you're feelin right,
Wanted to be sure we want the same thing.
"I can't believe it,
You can't possibly mean it.
Well who said anything about love?"
"Don't I know" she said,
"Don't you know that's it different for girls in love?
- Joe Jackson