March on to My Episodic Privacy...
Moving Eagerly, Peacefully ...
March 15th Ides 1997
you know you're a canadian affected by americans when you hear 'tirana' on the cbc and your immediate thoughts are 'what? toronto's under siege?'
i like the cc icon, but you see...it's all canadian.
the icon's just the proof. :-)
do they think structured too?
on the contrary...
have i become a geek? so late in life?
so uninformed? alex wails.
March 14 1997 later on...
tell me this. is this a free-for-all? should it be?
what is the point, he asks, if we cannot write our deepest darkest secrets. i tell him, you can't write your deepest secrets anywhere...if you did, then well, then they wouldn't be your deepest darkest secrets, now would they? i maintain that very few people even write their most private thoughts anywhere, even under lock and key. what would be the point? i told him, no one wants to face themselves in that way. some thoughts are meant to remain in your head...it's a good archiving system, the best, and what purpose would it serve to write them down? No, everything doesn't have to have a purpose, you're right, but why would you do something which would knowingly cause you grief? he says that it's a shame if we cannot have a place where we can be totally uninhibited. i told him there are times and places for that, and it's not in a diary. He says that it should be a place of total lack of inhibition. i say, no such place exists. if we interact, we inhibit. he said, what's the point if you cannot write without being influenced by who is reading it? yeah, but my life is influenced by who i live it with. i do not live in a vacuum, ergo, i cannot write in a vacuum. he says the web is such a big place i should be able to write completely anonymously, free to say as i want. it would indeed be nice if that were possible, and some people do enjoy that luxury, but they do it because they do not have a choice.
for example, perhaps they are hiding something from parents. If their parents knew, then they would not have to hide it on the web. again, but what would be the point, i asked him. he said "just to be completely uninhibited"... he continued, "the web is supposed to be so vast and annonymous that you can be completely free to be who you really are... he said 'we spend so much time conforming...' [I didn't say, "maybe you do..."] ... he said you should be able to get lost in the vastness that is the web, become unknown...to the point that you can be uninhibited ... I said i do that in the privacy of my own home ...
he said "but the web is supposed to be a place where you can do that".
I told him that he didn't know what the web was.
but then again, perception is all there is.
perhaps what he considers deep
secrets, i have already told him about.
perhaps, i do need to find out what inhibitions i am not discovering...maybe my little schpeel at the end of this entry is bullshit. Maybe i'm just making excuses for myself...maybe i am too chicken to write my most private thoughts...
and maybe, just maybe, these are my
most private thoughts...
i can tell you one thing that i
didn't tell him,
and that is how much i enjoy our conversations.
(the repercussions of that can only be positive...get it?)
i am now formulating yet another theory ... that deepest darkest secret-revealing would have negative repercussions, now i'm not
saying that i think most people go around telling other people
'secrets' which would have positive repercussions, but it's probably fair to assume that they wouldn't be afraid to reveal them, i mean
it is a natural thing to want to create positivity, for most, anyway.
So that's about it. Back to my original point.
WHAT WOULD BE THE POINT?
Why would i write something here that i didn't want him to read?
What could i write here that i wouldn't want him to read?
think about it. Anything I could write that I didn't want him to read would have negative repercussions, on someone, at some time.
Tell me. What Would be the Point?
March 14, 1997.
boo hoo, that is.
miserable now, all the bragging has
payed me back with a terrible sore throat,
early awake on a friday, and other crappy stuff.
time is relentless this week, it was mere
minutes ago, last friday. what should this
tell me? michael conway baker...pure peace.
friday friday it's a friday. or, 'freeday' as he
enjoy, i must run.
March 13, 1997.
while we're on the subject, my dental
hygienist is tone deaf. i used to hate
the dentist's office...rarely a place where
i could lay back and nearly fall asleep,
lulled by the soft music designed for that
purpose...but now i can, now that petite
women are scraping about in my mouth,
their gentleness, their delicacy, lulls me,
comforts me. imagine if i were a man,
listening to her breaths, watching her
soft blond locks as they tried to get away
from the elastic...listening to her hum
a melody, even if off-key...and being
soothed into a near-coma as she places
and removes tools from my rising and falling chest...
as you may well imagine, life is good.
i literally bounce out of bed.
i enter the big white building as if i were
a million dollars. dispite the worries
dispite the fears. "i'm an adult now"
rings thru my head. i've been waiting
a long time to say that. it feels great.
i never thought it would.
i like the pace. i like the pressure.
i love a mystery. i love a good story.
Does font add meaning to a word?
I believe it does. the combined artistry
of words, and font design, necessarily
create an image which is more than the
sum of its parts.
(it's getting closer!)
so the fancy management survey tells me
that i'm 64% auditory and 55% right brain.
although i don't see myself that way, it
makes perfect sense. explains the whole
biology thing i guess and also the wierd
perspectives... a mish mash of seeing the
big picture some of the time and only the
details others. writing furiously late last
night, my fingers were aching. literally
aching to the point of pain. bizarre. after
spending so much of my life with a pen in
my hand, to now, after just a few months,
really, having weakened my fingers to that
point. i started to wonder if my children would
learn to write with a pen? i mean, i guess they
will, but when will they write? i don't anticipate
they will spend too much time writing that way.
i mean, it seems so clean, neat, and efficient to
write electronically. sure, some of the romance is
lost, but i think it is becoming just that, romance.
as a child i watched my mother write with a fountain
pen, dreaming of the day when i grew up and could
use a bottle of ink..but that bottle sits in the kitchen,
and me, well, i sit here.
happy day all. happy day.
March 12, 1997.
well i guess there are firsts for just
about everything. young girls putting
their lives, their sexuality and soul-
searching out in the world - for all to
see. brave souls, not worried who will
deduce them, who will scorn..strong,
defiant 'children' really...
i wish i had half their gumption.
i wish i could have started living this
kind of life twenty years ago. what a
different world i knew than. what a
different set of variables lay before me.
what a different set i knew. or was it
only me? why didn't anyone tell me
i hadn't grown up? why didn't they
March 11, 1997
7:30 am now and the rest is done.
you wouldn't think you use the word 'but' much,
but you do.
the world and life are spinning around me now,
spinning spinning do i spin with them - or do i
try, as always, to remain seated with both feet
on the ground? unusual developments and new
friends, but why does it feel like it's been so long
since i've had a new friend? it's just not true.
my new friends would be upset...
I guess there's something more special about this one...
I Chose her.
Did she choose me?
Welcome, world. Welcome nearly Spring.
Breathing excercises now and a bit of relief.
"you'll always be a part of me..."
What an adventure it would be. Jumping, straight off a cliff.
into ? what ? I don't have a clue. Passions are bringing me
higher...taking me further...but so clearly I can see the entirety
of it all. That this life, as we know it, will end. What do we value?
That's the pentultimate question, the 64million dollarone.
What is important? How can we weight these things? I don't know,
but, i think i'm about to find out...
"the silly thing won't let me paste
the lovely carolynesque..."
March 10, 1997
i will never tell you to go away.
her laughter is precious. her smile, sweet.
i don't like to hear about endings.
i won't say goodbye, not now.
take me there, where you are going
his beautiful words music, his strength sublime.
my spirit will live on, my love will shine.
wrapped up in my sausage casing,
i am wallowing.
inspired by inspiration, determined in my determination,
i want to wrap both of you in this pinkness,
cocooned in lovely layers of silk
always to be there
if you go away...
feet on the ground,
i hum the melody
which lets me be free
to love who i must
to love outside a shell
to reach out and feel those
whose lives and words
have sideswiped mine.
leaving traces of color and bits of paint
for me to analyze
and wonder why.
March 9, 1997
the marchness of this place is comforting to me.
the Magyar chats.
i wonder if there exist any famed couplings of
Magyars and Acadians?
oh, some just hate all this abstraction.
"you can't make your heart feel...something it won't"
"there's nothing i can do, to keep from lovin' you..."
what i am wondering now, is do any, or all, of these
singers really understand or feel the extent of what
they sing? do they know it in even more powerful a
way than i could ever understand?
but it's not abstraction at all.
just read the words.
they mean whatever you want them to,
as long as your heart is open and your mind free.
i can't tell you what they mean for you - for him -
sometimes, even for me. but they do mean something
because they come as much as i am able,
from an honest place. that is why
i value them. if you are honest i value you too.
if you are honest, then others value you like i do.
March 8, 1997
"would you know my name...
if i saw you in heaven?..." (ec)
i think we all recognize these words,
they touch us in the most softest spot
of our essences...the heaven that wasn't
supposed to be...the heaven that our
children are supposed to wish for...
i wish for this heaven.
for me, for you...
"no i'll never fall in love again...
no i'll never find someone new...
no i'll never fall in love again...."
Who do we thank most for this hauntingly beautiful
breathtakingly stunning rif?
simplicity. but don't we all wish it were?
you see, if you cannot see the simplicity,
the beauty in those lyrics, the melody...
whether or not they apply to you,
ever have, or ever will....
then that's the point.
"I don't understand this guy...the way he makes
decisions...what a fool"
"Well, of course you don't understand him...
you're not him"
"Look, let me put it this way...
someone once said to me,
'I don't understand homosexulaity'....
I said, "of course you don't,
if you understood it, you would likely
There are certain things which we
cannot understand. But, we can understand
that we can't understand them.
you know, just to explain that unfortunately,
if you've never been in love with anyone or
anything...then you can't never fall in love
"Even if the sun refused to shine
Even if romance ran out of rhyme...
you're all i need, my love, my valentine.."
i wonder what she really wanted from me, if anything?
i wonder if i got from her, what i set out to?
i am wondering many things today...
the sunsets which we watch together,
the green vests we wear...
the friends who stay by our sides
the grandfathers that never were
the moments we feel touched
the chances and romances you didn't take
the silly giggles
the scotch breath
My 'childhood' as I know it, happened during highschool.
It started where Jim Travillia left off, and quickly began
to grow to be something i will always remember,
the day i entered that place.
the long wide corridors, the ping pong tables.
the Mosher Auditorium, the 'wine cellar', and the band room...
The earliest memories are of Mrs. Rosenswig, aka 'Mom'
Judy. she taught us not to draw swastikas on the boards
we didn't know any better...and of little Keith, one of the funniest people i'll probably never see again...
afterschool activities like jpps and running after boys...
and then the countless hours, exploring, with Kenny.
my friends, debby, terry, and chantal...the oldest ones
and of course, julie's basement. these are some of my earliest memories from when i was 'a kid'. the days and years which are engrained in my essence forever. the people and events that no one can ever take from me...I cherish them. deeply.
I love my memories.
I love life.
March 6, 1997.
at 8:25 i was baking a cake. really, a cake.
i rarely bake cakes. i am not a cake person.
things have passed well this night.
peace, relative, and melancholic music from
a big yawn from my tired lips
a few more clicks.
exhausted to the bone i think.
a baby cries.
awakened by heavenly choir sounds, the little sausage felt well rested. cozy dreams to ensure peacefullness, a big yawn, and the world is still white. drip, java, drip.
Is it Wednesday already? Wait a minute, is it March? are there three teaspoons of sugar in my coffee?
i don't even mind not being awake, but once i am, i wouldn't go back. I guess it's an addiction. a bona fide addiction.
G is a Lamarkian, by all logical accounts. I love the essence of Darwinianism, because it really and truly is a fascinating way to see the world. how the environment, selecting from a bunch of variety that which 'fits' in best, eventually produces populations which are best at eating, drinking, avoiding pain, and having sex. Sure, I guess those traits had to have been there from the beginning, in order to be selected...no one disputes that, the issue is, What drove the system to the biased state it is in today? And, we can't even acurately follow (human) selection, since there have been many environments which we ourselves have created. I wonder if it has been decided when human evolution, as we know it, changed? When predators ceased to be an important factor? When food became abundant? When the birth control pill was invented? And still, to this day...there exist populations on this planet for whom none of this applies..."This one? This planet? Not Planet Hollywood, not us...evolution is so primitive..."
it is believed that only this coffee wakes me properly. one would assume it is the caffeine, but it may be the sugar. Good marning!
March 4, 1997
the plants are grown
the dishes clean
a million things to do;
a silly dream,
a caffeine boost;
the dawn of dreams come true.
there is certain kind of clarity which comes with writing here early in the am. it's like what you see in dark room, after you've spent some minutes searching for the light switch and then some more, waiting for the light to appear... objects appear moreso; focus is slow, but once complete, acute. and there is an interest about everything.
"returning from beaconsfield with muchos muchos going through my head. My tiny little head. A whole new world. A whole new wonderful point of view. There is so so much. So much emotion, so much love, so much mystery." -me, august 1993.
I guess in one's diary one should write the things that one doesn't oft say to one's parents.
I love mine, very, very, very much.
"This book is the start of an abridged version of my hobby. All events in my life; emotional, physical, psychological, anthropoligical, dreamological, Musical, Memorabiliacal, poetic, insightalogical, philosophical and otherwise, shall now and in future be recorded solely in one book, one diary called my Journal - My memoir if you like. I am now officially closing noone - unless circumstance permits - Closing my 5-section books - closing my scrapbook, closing 'Emotion'. Now, I am going to close my brother's stereo which gives me hypertension.
-L.M.P. August 18, am am am 1986. ps#136.
March 3, 1997
what is it about me that i have to see how something works completely? i think maybe that we all like to be able to see things as whole entities functioning, but there are some things which are impossible to see. i'm thinking about banks. i'd like to be able to know, in summary of course, all of the workings and how they interact. Of course, I'm not the only one... kind of like trying to describe cloning to the gang last night. i started with the basic expanation, which led to a ditty on DNA, RNA, and protein...but then they wanted to know how we visualize the DNA if it is so small...so i told them. Then, they wanted to know how can you tell one person's DNA from another, well...that's where things get messy. there's a lot of crap you gotta know, before you can start explaining what RFLPs are. Kind of like trying to explain to me, how an RRSP works, I guess. and then, i still don't really have a complete idea of how all the processes in the human body interact with one another. it's always frustrated me. i wonder if bank people get frustrated....
March 2, 1997.
why do universal truths exist? things like 'variety is the spice of life'...which can be applied to many different subject matter...are these universal truths my God? It must be considered seriously, that they exist...is it only because we are all human? I think not, since Darwin knew how important it was for evolution to occur. Ahhh, evolution. God, time, evolution.
G didn't exactly answer what i thought he would...when i pointed out that he is someone (and we all know people like him) who asks questions of others out of real interest in what they have to say. His main retort was that he learns more from what people don't say...Which of course, I think I understand...but a surprising answer. And of course, this leads me to think...imagine if I could know all the surprise answers to my questions, as this one was. how often do i not ask something because i assume i know what the answer is? I guess G knows this and I must learn it more skillfully in order to become more like the person i want to be.
The last of my scribbles in the waste paper basket, I stare at a screen...which is all my own. a creation if you must. i know i must.
March 1, 1997
i have changed.
i read words i write,
and see someone else.
someone who has grown.
telling myself 'control', 'focus',
these are not things i used to do...
flailing about, bouncing off walls,
who is this person?
where did she come from?
why did she get here?
"you are an outlet
you are an impluse
you are what you alone see you should be
There is no conflict with you and life
You are in synct
together on a cliff
I am so happy you have the vision
to see me in the clear
I am standing on the beach
As I can see as clear
But I have yet to become as one
As you have my dear"
"There were remnants of good food prepared
this person enjoyed cooking.
The 'double-v c' showed signs of a woman who quickly applied beauty products to accentuate but a few key features.
The varied size and shape of the clothes strewn over the bedroom furniture depicted the woman's desire to confuse yet tantilize her male audience.
the rooms showed signs of a vitality and youthfulness while the details hinted that the woman was of a certain maturity.
The appreciation for the 'simple things' in life was on tap.
As I thought about this character living in this space,
I wished I could share it with her.
Maybe I thought the proximity to her whould make me more like her.
It took me some time before I realized that this same female subject is an old friend of mine.
I hadn't recognized her earlier.
We have both sketched ourselves a map of life's roads and bridges.
I don't think we'll ever have difficulty finding each other again."
-c.a.w. August 23, 1993
[two of my most prized essays]
[the only two she wrote for me]
"Old friend, here we are,
After all these years and tears,
and all that we've been through. I
t feels so good to see you,
Looking back in time
There've been other friends and other places,
but no other one like you;
All my life, No one ever has known me better
I must have traveled down a thousand roads
Been so many place,
seen so many faces,
always on my way to something new...
But it doesn't matter, cause no matter where I go,
Every road leads back
Every road just seems to lead me back to you.
Old friend, there were times,
I didn't want to see your face,
or hear your voice again
Now those times are far behind me
It's so good to see your smile,
I'd forgotten how nobody else
could make me smile the way you do,
All this time, you're the one I still want beside me
And it doesn't matter cause no matter where I go,
Every road leads back
Every road just seems to lead me back to you..."
(author? sung by Bette Middler)