june has come

many Eclipsing panoramics...

beautiful sunny day.
i'm wondering what's left to write.
but that doesn't mean there isn't anything.
i could write of webart, or feminism, of phone calls.
of beautiful families who stick together and laugh.
of old times or new ones.
of music so real and inner struggles.
of chewing my mouth and trying to organize my thoughts.
of being unable to do so. thinking of a project, a plan.
i need something for the thoughts to bounce off of.
somewhere to put them, in front of me - be it cyberart,
a face, or pen and paper. an inability to face myself?
i doubt it, but a possibility.

the mess surrounding me doesn't talk to me.
it doesn't say 'pick me up'.
it doesn't call to me. did i miss the conditioning?
or was CW right? i often entertain that idea, the one
that no one really knows about, even her - and no one
would possibly in their right mind admit. about being in sync.
how the comfortable silence is simply moot to me.
a non-concept, as are so many others. like discussing
your car. like meetings. like discussing every single iota
in life when it's already there, already self-explanetory.
there are things which just don't need talking. look around you.
watch people.

watch the thin little girl with the pale thin skin sucking on that
fourtieth cigarette. watch her empty eyes and large pale circles.
watch her pain, her struggles, her fear.

watch the gang doing a cheers. watch them laugh about last
weekend's barbeque and how Frank got pushed into the pool.
watch them wave at the DJ to raise the volume of a song which was
written before most people in the place were born.

watch the dark-haired girl with the sideburns.
watch her composition, her strength, her fearlessness.
watch her dark beautiful eyes and white skin.
watch her tall legs slowly bouncing as she steps over the wires.
watch her ideas mingling in her head and then spill out into mine.

watch me. watch me trying to understand my fellow humans.
watch me grab at life to little avail. watch me try to get closer to
you. watch me fail. watch me in all my in synctness, flail about like
someone who doesn't speak the same language. watch the words
accumulate, the anger subside, and the mystery grow.

watch with me, at least.

may 30!

a preponderance of 'life story' songs on the radio...the latest i can
barely listen to. i wonder what's up?

psst. a little secret. it would seem, unfortunately for many, that what
society brings us up to look for in other people, is not in fact based
on how other people really are.

i'm starting a new paragraph now because i'm going to suggest that
this, to a substantial degree, grew from television. i have heard many
arguments in my life about television. everyone has their vantage.
but no matter what position you look at it from, it's a large branch of
media, portraying life (and that's human life too) in an extremely
packaged, unrealistic way. everyone jokes how they don't go to the
bathroom on tv, but i don't think it's funny. i say that tv has
created our (our, you know, our) mind's eye view of not only the
world, society, our lifestyles, but ... what we expect other people to
be like. packaged. 'macho'. and beautiful. and, pardon the pun,
but 'black and white'.

argh.

selfish selfish selfish.
dreaming wonderful, dreamy dreams.
awoke at the bottom of the tiny bed.
this place isn't complicated. it's quite simple now
and i will try to feed off of it's simplicity.
to the left and to the right
i see persons, persons real.
wondering, wondering.
i should tell them more
i should speak. why don't i?
i look inside instead...
inside always,
selfish selfish selfish.

why are they interested in such a selfish?

more may 29...

There are so many things involved in so many things. How can I understand my own thoughts if I do not truly understand those of others? Which should come first? I pick up a paper which requires me to do work that I am not instantaneously in the mood to do. I put it in front of me and think "I'll just do it, even though I don't feel like doing it". Then I start thinking about pople around me who don't seem to enjoy anything, and I think, "do these people think that thought every time they do something? Or do they just get used to doing things they do not want to do? There can be each and every single permutation of each and every single permutation of doing anything in this life. Each person has their own reasons, explanations, thought patterns and processes, preconceived notions, emotions, fears, and every other feeling. I used to think they were mostly the same, but I think I can now see how differently they can be, once you put together all the permutations. This is what makes life different. This is what makes life. But this is also what I cannot stand not knowing about life. Yuck. Makes me frustrated. Why the heck do I need to know other's motivations so dramatically? I keep telling myself, 'self, people managed to communicate enough to create buildings and cities and machines which propel us to the moon, common philosophies and ideologies, clichés which ring true decade after decade, and movies which make us all cry, ... so we must think alike to the amount which everyone thinks we do.

How does this relate to doing work that I don't feel like doing?
You figure it out. I can't.

I guess someone who was pretty good at succinctly clarifying their perspective on the bigger picture would be able to identify these thought processes and describe them in some kind of way that someone would understand?

I know I can't. Not now, anyway. My explaining abilities are limited of late, I don't feel much clarity of speech these days, nor any underlying ability to define how I feel, think or what I really want right now.

Why do I care about this? Is it, as someone's Jungian analysis would have it, an attempt to understand myself? Well that would make some sense since this mep is supposed to be an exercise in trying to figure out what I am. It just seems that as I go along, I come up with more questions than answers. Yeah, yeah, I know life is one big set of answering one question only to come up with two more, but I do not accept this. I guess that must be one of the reasons that I still, in a sense, long for the past so desperately. At least I thought I knew everything. Maybe people didn't like me as much, but at least I felt better about what I knew. I even used to know how to spell?

"where have all the cowboys gone?" Maybe they took off with the truly concerned people. sorry to all who feel truly concerned. How to make enemies? How to be honest? How to make friends by being insanely honest? How to hope that being honest will pay off? even though I know that this plan is not exactly working?

ARGH.

-- -- -- -- --

the illistrations are here

headachy and late, i will become more organized...i will become more organized...
i will become ...

where has the Focus gone?

urgh for today.

may 28

"i got a peaceful, easy feelin'
and i know you won't let me down
cause i'm already standin
i'm already standin
yes i'm already standin'
on the ground..."

slept nicely, even remembered a dream.
typing on the ground could be bad for the back.
lashing out at everyone, everything.
embracing some though.
invitations now.
feeling slightly more empowered than yesterday.
some positivity returns.
the first day was hard, yes it was.
the second was better.
and so on, and so on...

as i said, you're away one day at a time...

may 27 now.

someone's birthday. and, a beautiful day in the neighborhood.
focus. i won't describe the contents of the room. i won't tell
what my mind won't let me think. my heart feels it anyway.
the time is to be used to focus. not that it has started - but i
will rest back with ramona and be confidant that the focus will
come. there are times where you know it will. now is one.

in 1978 i was probably 11. i wrote stories about a life i thought i
would enjoy. in 1988 i was probably 22. i did not know what a life
i would enjoy looked like. . . in 1998 i hope i am still writing stories
about a life that at least my 31-year old is enjoying.

well-layed out pages, eh? thanks. thanks for that.

well mr. goose - wherever you are - there's a goosette here who
misses you already. be good.

later...
"the junk is writ and now i shall afford myself the luxury of re-aquainting
myself with WordPerfect, and hopefully re-aquainting you with my paper-self"
-eg 1993.

amidst several choices of what i can do here in this empty, now semi-clean
space, i choose not to become sentimental but to laugh at history;

1. most in-style : BP, BP
2. most old fashion : KS, KS
3. most brainy : KS, KS
4. most stupid :
5. best taste in guys : JL, BP
6. best organized : KS, KS
7. best singer : DB, LC
8. best dancer : CP, BP
9. fastest walker : DB, DB
10. fastest talker : LP, LP
11. sleepiest : LC, CT
12. awakest : CW, BP
13. strongest : BP. BP
14. strangest : LP
15. gittyest : CW
16. moronest :
17. weirdest : LP, LP
18. helpfullest : KS, AS
19. scatter-braindest : LP
20. practicalist : LC, LC
21. likely to become:
a) doctor - AS, KS
b) teacher - DB, AS
c) physicist - JL
d) physchiatrist - LP
e) secretary - JL, BP
g) housewife - JL
h) private eye - LP, LP

so that was the gang quiz of roughly 1980. please note it
was optional, and with only two answers each, means
most of the 'gang' opted out. mostly the ones who didn;t
answer were the ones whose names appeared on the list.
just for kicks, let me jot down who became what:
KS-administrator (CW will correct me) (she did)
DB-project manager, construction
AS moved away long ago
JL- travel agent
LP- research assistant turned IT associate
BP - financial advisor? (CW will sorrect me here again...)(again)

now i've got something really special:

and i quote...

Illistrated Version of Murder in the Alley - 1978


Chapter I. "The Case"

Mr. Dean Prido paused for a second as the telephone rung in his office, in Chicago Ill. (as opposed to?) "Hello?" He answered. It was his brother, Frank Prido. "Dean, there's been a murder!" "Where? Who, What, When?" Dean said. "Um, In the Calipso Alley, downtown, Mr. Lapointe, and 45 minutes ago!" "Oh my gosh," Dean said "I'll be right there. Where are you?" At Marty's Warehouse." OK be right there". "Bye" "bye". A click was heard on each end as they both got more + more excited. Dean got there in about 3 minutes. As he got into the ware house, he saw the men all standing around talking about the murder. He wanted to know the facts as he was The Mr. Prido, Prido's Private Detective Agency, U.S.A. he got to the Police finially, and they explained the whole thing. Mr. Poopendorff, Hed of state police, started. "Well, Dean, Mr. Frank Lapointe was going to see a friend of his who's back door leads to Calipso Alley, was getting out of his car, when 2 men came behind him and grabbed him and pinned him down, and made him eat a Poison grapefruit! We know all this info, because an elderly lady was watching from an upper window and was mute and crippled so she didn't hear or say anything. And couldn't do anything about it. She wrote the whole story for us out, here, you'll need it, I'm hiring you." "I'm not the type to take the caser right off the bat, and ..." "Thanks A Heap! I knew you'd do it." "Well, I didn't say that, but..." "you're such a pal". "Waiyt!!!" "What?" "You are the police, Dean said, Why aren't you doing the case?" "Because his mother won't have police have anything to do with her or her son." "OK."

Dean went home, on a $25.00 basis. He was satisfyed. He wanted to talk to the lady and find other witnesses. He went to the alley, the car was gone, and knocked.

Chapter Two...

Dean hoped he or she was home. A young girl about 15 opened the door. "yes," she said. "May I see the elderly lady who lives here?" He said. "I'm sorry you have the wrong door." She replied. "Oh, Terribly sorry." Dean said. She closed it, and, watching him through the window, saw him go up the steps to the right door. He knocked once more. An elderly man came to the door. "Yess?" He said bitterly. "We don't want .... (cut a part out) .....He went home in low spirits.

i had to stop i was laughing too hard.plus, i didn't realize it would get so bad.




fittingly appropriate actually, that i post this today.


i guess most of the gang quiz is validated and still true,
seeing that i have posted this.

may 26.- ^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-^-

the parting

how many millions have done this before-and how many more?
goodbye my sweet sweet love,
until we meet again, make haste,
do be very careful and be strong.
i love you deeper than life itself -
and more longer than time.
i cannot stop these tears clouding my vision
nor can they stop my sorrow until you are in my arms again.

i will not continue now but stand and continue the day.

may 25.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

free museum day in the city - not such a bad one when summer finally rolls around.

my feet rest on refrigerator components and i'm out of newsprint.

may 24..............................................

i look around. without a voice, a familiar face,
do i really know this place even?
for that matter, thinking back to places i think i know -
i wonder, do i really know those places?
i know what i knew then about those places,
but those faces and lives are different now.
it is a different place once again.
can i really ever know something if i do not have a memory of it?
so with only memories remaining of what i know of that one and this
place, i conclude that i cannot really and truly know any place.

i want us all to be children again.
a fundamental truth about who i am,
i await the day when we can all converse and interact
as openly as we did as children. i will wait and hope.

driving around after midnight watching the activities.
i hadn't remembered such hubub. such commotion.
the nightlife moves. mutant kids, overflowing clubs
with gorgeous young girls wearing clothing i do not
understand, boombeats from dark-paned cars, police
cruisers, lining, literally lining the curb. post-raukus
crowds milling about Peel street.
When did all that happen? I never knew that life -
the one i saw last night - yet maybe i simply do not
recognize it now. maybe that was me i saw last night.

so if i could ever have that place back,
the one i recognize, - or think i do,
the one i know so well with the scrapy tree we hid in
behind Rodney's house, and the fences we tumbled over,
and the familiar dogs, maybe if i could sit around on a hot
august night chanting seances to familiar Gods behind the
Daley's shed, and talk to each other as children do,
maybe i just wouldn't recognize it,
either.

may 22....................................................................

greetings. 7:23 am now. in the transitory state between frustrated and
coming to terms, when people around me will be happier. although it is
a hateful state to be in, i am glad it will return because i do believe it to
be the truth. people are incompetant. They don't care, for the mostpart.
you may think you do, and i may think i do, but when it comes right down
to it, we go on living our own lives. bouncing, as it were, off the rights
and wrongs. scraping if you will, the bottom of the barrel. not ever
wondering what's going on. what was in the bucket and why? A whole
lot of me me me.

anyhow. is this what happens in the transitory state? the anger comes
out in a more sane, printable way? does it have to? coming to terms
over, and over, and over again.

i must thank R for agreeing with me, discussing woman issues...
i guess there was a time when i would have written here what we
spoke of, what it was that he agreed with, but that time has long
since passed. amazing what you learn when you don't set out to
learn it. difficulter to swallow, but much more interesting...
that's all i can say, really. perhaps one day, i will be able to say it all.
when i find a better way. i feel certain that day will come.
........

i sit, cold now. shivers physcially lead to mental ones.
a tension builds inside and typing becomes laboured.
emptiness and disillusionment, as often, cause me to
wonder the age old Alfie question. you get where you
are going and then you must turn back. you see the
light and then you've got to turn it off. you learn to
speak and must learn to shut up. some can live with
this. some cannot.

---

may 21....................................................................................

gardens and amazons surrounding me, how can i focus on anything else?
rolls of film, packing tape, a dusty tv remote, old cassettes "and the moon
and the sun are the same one you see - it's the same old sun up in the sky"
old id cards and miniature candles with orange flowers painted on them.
garage sale items and a pile of 45s. a pair of shorts in the making...each
pattern piece carefully cut and pinned...a couple of pillow cases sewn
together waved high in the air for Billy Joel to see... old things brought
together by new phenomenon. it's a nice pairing, actually.

waking, again and again, with the reality that is going on here.
it's scariest then, when the dopamine and tryptophan levels are
at their highest. short panic pangs, just until i am standing. all it
seems to take to quell them are a few deep breaths and a look at
the whole picture. stand back and look at it from mars. or was it
venus? yes, yes, i think it was venus. the view is clearer from venus.

people around me scarce this week - a kind of functional distancing,
i suppose. actually they came forward but something inside made me
let them go. it's difficult when you're focusing. of course, i'm always
glad to have them. i need them. i need each and every one.
and in the office, well-some who know are indeed saddened,
some by my parting and others by his. this too, though sad,
is precious information.

the news is out about what we can bring. everything's coming!
ok ok, so we'll get rid of the dollar store parfait glasses...

he trapses around with a christmas mug chanting the words
written on it; joy joy joy. aaahhh! and isn't this the slowest
goodbye you've ever seen?

may 20

boxes surround me now - the floors, bare.
the timing that is this circle, crystallizes again.
the clarity of cleanliness is powerful.
how do we make decisions?
once the momentum has pushed us even an inch,
does that not change our ability to decide?
or inability?
if we have no momentum, can we decide at all?

"without the struggle, life isn't worth the pain the sorrow and fatigue..."

i am not here to judge.

a type of calm is over me, leaving my shoulders in a natural place.
finding lyrics to songs i have since forgotten the melody for.
those who honk outside make me angry, very angry.
flush the anger and all that comes with it.
flush it and perhaps the melodies will return.


"I've always seen your face
I've always seen your face-
I've always seen the light on your face
your beautiful face, beautiful face.
I've always known what I know tonight
What I know tonight.
I've always seen your face
by candlight, by candlight."

lmp (maybe one day i'll remember the melody)

may 19

OKay. music and cousins, saying goodbye as we cry, cakes shaped like
religious things, looking at tall buildings, and awake in the early morn on
a rainy holiday.

infusing now still staring at this golden page.
isn't the month over yet?
when will summer arrive?
why do people get away with using the word 'basically' too much?
phyllis would understand my frustration.

---

"Morning comes, and I awake,
the flutter of the dove begins
and life again, greets the newborn day
o lovely one, o friend so gentle,
your cry suggests it's time to go
upon the voyage to the land of lasting peace.

The dove is peace and lasting happiness.

Without the risk life isn't worth the pain,
the sorrow and fatigue,
which every man will know until the end
The window wide is open on the world,
so begging for your song
to come and heal the strife
men nurture for themselves.

The dove is peave and lasting happiness.

The night is O so long and cold,
and i have known the emptiness
that comes from selfishness and insincerity.

Morning comes and I know now that all is calm,
the dove is gone upon his way to high and noble lands;

The dove is peace and lasting happiness
The dove is peace and lasting happiness."

author?

may 16

no matter how new, Roch is able to capture a sound which reminds
us of the past and the present, at once. speaking of which, i do miss
standing around the bucket, noisily squabbling for who gets the
drumsticks...and i have been criticized oft for my numerous fond memories,
my ability to see the past as an idyllic dream. but worse i am sure;
to not admit their own fond memories, denying them as if it were
another in that day, for how could they have done such things?

let me speak my mind and i will eventually become defiant.
ignore me and eventually i will become invisible.

psst...it's here!

may 15 ....

i spoke a word she heard
my life now in her heart
it was not, from the start,
no guarantees, apart.

what lie i tried to hide
what truth i keep inside
the time was right, confide
and take the words in stride.

i win against myself
i choose to lose
i keep a score;
the battle risks are great
but must be played
or weighed,
no more.  

-lmp


---

the melancholic sound of michael conway baker leaves traces
in my mind. people flow by me, leaving images.

longing for connectivity, i grasp out at this place.

women are reduced, time and time again. reduced by things
outside our realm. reduced to icons so small. reduced to iotas,
figureheads, traces of life.

i reject this imagery. i reject the picture they would paint of us.
the tiny importance we place. i want more. i want it all.
i can hold more, in one hand, than they can even hope to imagine.

i believe this with my entirety. i believe this with my essence,
my life force.

do you need me?

festering in my anger, i resort to a place i deem silent.

alone, here, i can speak my peace.

where are those who know me?
where are those who would rise with me in a chant of solidarity?
i know you are here, near, where i can feel your spirit.
and i thank you.

my schpeel does not end there. when i leave this place, i know more.
i am still the one with me, the person who wants, longs for more. the
only me i can be. i feel good with myself but i must rebound, i must
have reflection.

when i was little there was a contest. we were told to write a story.
i did not have the ability to know that the story they would choose
would be the one they wish they had created. the only story they
could understand. i hold the anger with me still as i try to understand it,

it's truth apparent in all i do, in all they want me to be. the truth that
is the media, the lives that are our own.

but, my story did not win. the story that won was one of success,
of intolerable triumph. of overcoming all, of beauty, of patience. an
unrealisitic way to see the world but a positive one nonetheless. leave
the story in the past, poots, leave the story for others to tell. leave the
bygones and the hurt and the tall blond women to dance in their reflections.
this represents only what all can understand, not what you have lived.
you and you alone know why the reflection that you see is feeling what you feel.
you really wish you could understand what they do but the face of the
matter is, YOU don't.

"you alone see what you alone can see"

and that's the only truth i know.

the only truth we can ever hope to understand.

i am not dissilusioned.

i am not defeated.

i will defeat.

i will prove.

i will Live.

if only to myself.

may 14, 1997

ah, i guess we all dish out or own form of bullshit, whether we know it or not.
but why can't i get rid of so many preconcieved notions formed in childhood?
why is it so hard for people to see themselves objectively? why is my view so
clouded by this? watching the cars now as i inch along the highway, there is
so much i assume from the outside. why do i do this. what function does it
serve? why are we so busy defending ourselves?

i did, i once went on a crusade to save the world. i haven't exactly given up,
but the truth of the matter is, the world doesn't want to be saved. Now where
have i heard that before? they don't even want to be noticed in traffic, why
would they be interested in being saved?

details into my bizarre mis-interpretation skills:

on the radio:
"to relax and unwind after your work day"
and i had to think about it long and hard before i realized that they
didn't necessarily mean "do nothing all night long but sit and listen
to the radio".

why do i misinterpret so?
preconcieved notions that i cannot rid myself of?
completely fucked sense of what other people are saying?
lost entirely in my own world?
hey, i do write here.

ugh.
just between you and me,
let's pretend i didn't say any of that.
(that's what i'd do)

may 13 1997

so i grab the pot, kick the little stool, and wonder which cream is less sour.
there's a butt on the eggplant cookbook. pour the dark java over the spoon
and the sugar in the mug i now associate with this place, and we're all set.
some rubbish comes from the radio-the cutting board precariously balanced
on the back of a ceramic dish, what a weird dream i had. hiking and biking.
biking in the rain and hiking with a family i used to know. then, golf clubs-
hundreds of them, to put away into their rack. one by one, out of one
rack and into another for the next people to use. but i don't golf. i think i
was traumatized from watching Eaton's commercials with the mute button
firmly pressed. especially the part where he can't pick up the bag, it's
stuck to the table. i wonder if they preview commercials with no sound,
they must. why didn't they advertise before?

while on the subject, a heartfelt condolance, and a genuine 'good luck'
to Le Commensal, our favorite local vegetarian chain who've really put
up a fight against 21 cases of food poisoning in their restaurants. ok ok,
so the other stories on the news were someone's cat getting stuck up
in a tree and some onld guy losing his dentures down the sewer, but
they must be commended all the same.

the energy required is now draining. yeah, trying to escape it.
one thing, then the equal and opposite, zoom through my brain.
hurting people's feelings in the interim doesn't help.
not enough time-?

ok, certain key factors have been ruled out. what a relief, when
even the smallest of efforts is made, words are splayed, and
what was obvious to you is conveyed. thanks God for that.
can it all be so easy?

yes, it can.

i rarely go back for the bottom of the pot, today i have.

where was i? oh yes, convincing myself that things can be easy.
well, that's what the person who knows me best would say i do.
i guess, maybe, just maybe - no one really knows me as i do.
i'm thinking now to the family in my dreams - when i see these
people, i assume they know me, because they knew me then.
i guess my essence has not change-but what my essence thinks
of them has. that's the part they can never know. why would
it even cross their minds? and what they think of me? i most
certainly wish it has changed...but you know what?

shall i repent?

there is a time for it, and that is not with your own thoughts.
if i want to transfer repent for my actions or words here, then
fine - but i must know and understand that that is what i am
doing.

i can really get sick of hearing those same voices, those
same stale jokes, impersonations. to some it comforts-
but in time of change, it annoys. i must let things annoy me.
it's healthy for the spirit-the free spirit-probably related to
this entire place. what does all this annoyance create?
free spirits? hmm, unfortunately for some, only more
annoyed spirits. for others, genuine recluse. always a trade off.

Always a trade off.

and now,
annoyed words coming from a guy in BC,
pretty little prose in tiny boxes that float around the page,
and it's cold in here for some reason.

at least i picked the right cream.

may 11 1997

she knew the combo burger was thicker. why didn't i?

i didn't mean anything to cause anger - but does anyone?
i give all, to all. maybe i shouldn't.

give me your ideas and i will show you a plan.
a plan to stand alone - and i will 'masquerade' as it were,
as a leader of a grand project which will boggle the world.
those one at the other end of the line who can't do what i
want them to do, frustrate me.

what a frustration, a curse. how can they know ?

maybe they cannot understand that i can write such things
which are based in reality. based on what really goes through
my head. no matter how difficult this can be, i will not give up.

she needs a visionary man. great. just what we all need.

what have i done? the girl in the mirror looks fine,
what does she feel?

may 11 1997

"induldge me this once"

"steady all the trembling hands;
shelter all the weary souls
say to all faint hearts, 'take courage'!
for he comes, the Prince of Peace."

words from Germany bring a smile to my lips and a song to my heart.
from Sweden, an ego boost, to say the least.
from NS a familiar voice, and the world gets smaller.
and sadder, too.

the connections being made are self explanatory.

may 10 1997

where    are the answers? where's the big book that i can flip
through to page 4,562 and read "What Tiny Poots should do
on May 10, 1997" ? isn't there a toll-free number i can call?
what about a website? didn't i pay good money for this?

ironically, there's very unusual banging
upstairs and grinding outside, and knocking in the back...
oh, they install the windows...how appropriate, windows.
which window do i look out of now?

ah, life on the web. so quiet here. every once in a while
someone knocks on the door, sending us off into uproarious
laughter about ancient television programs which, by the way
someone had just been discussing ... weird, very weird.

but really, we're having a great time!

answered the phone "Good Morning, (my name)" at a good moment.
So, are there more cooincidences? Should Mr. Redfield's theory be
given a bit more credibility? you decide, i can't. i do admit nearing the
end of the millenium may cause things like karma to collide, but hey,
who wrote these dates anyway? the same species who are trying to
cash in on it, i think. methinks we could find cooincidence, energy,
knowledge, awareness in any growing situation. actually, in all
situations, if your perception were only aligned with the HIGHER
awareness people. and that's easy to do-just visit Serenity by the Sea.

happy saturday
happy listening to french radio
happy ranting

may 9 1997

there are generally accepted standards of 'what are intelligent guidelines for life'.
you take the criteria - selected from, i guess from everyone, and apply them to your situation. measuring each one as if ingredients, they are supposed to come into some kind of balance in order for the recipe to work.
measuring, comparing, wondering. this is the logical way to be.
what about how you feel? how can i feel if i'm always weighing?
should i learn to do both, or shall i simply tear up the recipe
and make my own? i know how to cook,
and i don't remember ever burning a cake.

(hop up on box now:)

overheard on radio:
"Give Mom the night off! Call KFC!"
it's a vicious circle, and self propogating too.
it's no wonder things are the way they are
when we put up with lines like that. we are sheep.
we will become what the media wants us to-so we
must be intelligent sheep, and tell them to stop.
correct when people generalize by saying 'guys',
or 'him' for a non-existant manager, and 'her' for
a non-existant librarian. the point is not that they
did't mean it, but that it reinforces stereotypes.
reinforcing stereotypes means accepting those
roles. accepting those roles means not changing.
not changing means thinking i am a feminist just
because i say things like this.

may 8 1997

ok.

what would i have written late last night? garsh only knows.
what would i write this morning? having a very hard time
focusing just now. that alarm came too fast.

you see...the ones who don't get it, well, they don't get it.
are they missing out that badly? not really.

interesting, very interesting.

the slit of sunlight just misses Ramona's feet.
she is sitting very adamantly now. perched smack in the center of the loveseat,
just below the Ruck Downing. 7.37 not an airplane just the time.

and so. documents appearing, some are new and some are old.
relating to each other, that much I know. today, what else do i
know? head of foot. does it show? arhh, so much i cannot write.
so much. what becomes the point? is this the point where others
stop?

or where they began?

may 7 1997

Focus.
Focus.
Focus.
don't let them put words in your mouth.
you know what a slave is.
the focusing is working now. solid ground reappears.
how easy this is. keep telling yourself it's easy. it is.
sure they'll want to know things. sure they care.
just continue remembering what you care about...

lost in movies will always make you feel better.
the memories of both will fade when the beats are still
missing and the drops of rain stop falling. i am singing
this song to myself now. it is a beautiful one.

but ... tears and song clips must come along with the pie.
compliments are easy to handle. slice the cake any way you want.
you are grown up now. it is as useful a tool as it is painful at times.
use it to your advantage. listen to yourself. listen to others.
stop babbling in this place where now you want everything.
tell them about your day. tell them how you felt talking to T.
she has no guilt to give. herself, and only herself. no prepacked stuff.
listening and hearing, what a rarity.

and tell them about K.O. how nice it is to be 'well-presented' and
still have the ability to describe others as such. are we slaves?
it's a hypothetical question i guess. the point was, if we are free
enough to see ourselves as slaves then we are truly free.

be inspired?
am inspired,
are inspiring.

and then he danced. arms flailing all over the place
and she laughed out loud. the dance of success.
of sweet power. of sunshine. of freedom.
dance, little one, dance. the freedom you will know is yours alone.
you may share it bit by bit but as nan said, only you will know
the winds which have taken you here. only your sweet face is what
we see. you must believe that everything you are is more than the
sum of your trails. share this with the rest of us. impossible for me,
i recreate your thoughts and breaths in mine.

may 6 1997

"And they didn't know about Papa's rule that before we left the table,
we had to tell him something new that we had learned that day. We
thought this was really horrible - what a crazy thing to so! While my
sisters and I were washing our hands and fighting over the soap, I'd
say, "Well, we'd better learn something", and we'd dash to the ency-
clyopedia and flip to something like "The population of Iran is one
million ... " and we'd mutter to ourselves "The population of Iran is..."
-Leo Buscaglia, 1972 p.31

garsh, what do we do with this life thing?

the plants are pleased and papa adorns the piano.
Ramona missed me and asked to sit with me here.
she says just live it.

prejava now, it drips. the big mug looks immense beside her.
7:18 now and i look around.

still waiting for the caffeine clarity-even though i know it is temporarily
gone for a spell. falling asleep is slightly more difficult now, waking too.
opened my eyes at 6:45 and the first thoughts were more of a feeling.
'what is this life thing? - am i responsible for it?' it's really real. but i
don't know if it comes from being a bit more tired or from watching me
watch me. from being in a situation where i must exert a change. where
i have exerted change. i don't know about this one. what an entirely bizarre
feeling to awake with. as if i sat up, looked around the room and said,
"yep, still here". "Now what?"

anyway, had enough of that.

feeling slightly ... you know, neither here nor there.
would probably need another several cups
which i never do
of course that's a bit of a lie
seeing of late,
i've grown accustomed to a cup once i arrive.
but i don't drink much coffee, only one cup a day.
how many times do i have to tell you that you can
convince yourself of anything?
there is no truth
there are no lies
there only what we see
and that is what we perceive.

may 5 1997

when i said it was beautiful, I meant beautiful!

may 4 1997

i get it. 'get what'? these women, singing, rock. they can do it now.
'yeah, thanks to melissa etheridge.' 'and melissa etheridge'. and madonna.

they sing about the pain. about the freedom. about childhood.
they can do it. stand on a stage and express themselves.
thanks God for that eh. what a beautiful thing. get angry.
sweat. turn people on. bounce around. go amanda go.

let loose. HAVE FUN. bounce around.
do what you want. express yourself.

gosh i love watching the letters appear.
how does a brain know all these words and
tell the fingers what to do in order to get
them onto this screen at the same time?
words are such beauty. they're all i have.

seeing permitted
only by fate-
some we love,
some we hate.

touching expected
only by some-
once we have,
then there's none.

believing in something
only when real-
care for the truth,
and what we can feel.

so i'm watching people interact.
watching them act out what we
collectively refer to as, 'our lives'.
wondering if they even know they
are acting. they talk to each other
as if separate life forms. having no
clues as to the feedback expected.
they're not sure of much.
not really there-skimming the surface,
picking up the scum, picking out the
nutrients and staring at the foam.
are they together? is there something
i cannot see? i can only see what i can see.
i dunno, i just dun no.

---

may 3 1997

wet.wet.wet.
coffee. coffee. coffee.
film. film. film.

greetings. simulataneously! moseying around the city. thinking about
lasts, and firsts. concepts new to us. everything looks different now.
romance shines from every corner, ahem, but it's all relative, right?
banks and mcdonalds closing. red brick buildings seem perfect.deep,
deep sleep and silent dreams.

a balance between detail and aesthetics -
between fantasy and reality -
and what i want for me and for you.
the larger letters are like screaming, now.
the mood dictates how it looks,
but the mood evolves too...


---

may 2 1997

groggy me, i try to see the brightness of this page but the bottom
of the speckled mug is near and still it blinds. the pages sprawled
before me of words i wrote yonder-the panoramics now all eclipsed
in their pastness, the places the jets took me, the roads more travelled.
And me? you ask, to stay or go? it would seem the efforts have
grown stronger and the winds prevail from the west. to not look
around, squeeze tight the eyes is what must be done. but. much
work on the road ahead.

the timing of things which occur simultaneously is energy.
my grabbing of life is upon me now, from several directions.
where is the patience coming from? i cannot quite say,
but there is a calm in knowing and something telling me to wait,
besides. a glance at the girl to my left uncovers telling lines.
mayness upon us, it was necessary to work into the night.

the functions of life must be attended to, however, even in
this time of rapid cell growth. i am learning to put my mind
to things and simply perform those tasks expected of me,
very difficult in this time where many things deserve my
attention. without prioritizing, i am being unfair i know.
some things have been taken care of and even the dishes
put away is a major accomplishment. you wouldn't know it.

and even in this place, to divert my attention from the eyes
that read, is something which must be done blindly.

happy may oh happy may
i get to live another day
with sight and sound
i look around
and love for all
who guide the way.

april
vacation mEp
serenity by the sea
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