the final farewell to this home
of ours, i must do it alone.
not entirely an easy thing, but i will smile and do it all the same.
with a short sleep in my hands and a longing in my heart,
i have thrown belongings into three main categories;
to take, to throw away, and to garage sale.
hastily done to the point of probably error,
i did at least, manage to find the sugar at the bottom of the
largest garbage box, and the cream not yet curdled.
a pile of 45s is a difficult mess to deal with, but a crucial one.
several pots of pennies as well-so insignificant in our daily life,
yet now quite a dilemma.
the shadows of the maples dance
on the walls in front of me,
i can hear them rustle. crows squalk in the distance.
i won't reminisce about this
place, nor any other, at this time.
what has passed here has passed. what was done is done.
in the perfect mood for watching
the dancers, i could feel the meaning,
the essence of their actions. for the first time i truly understood what
choreography can do. i am still left with the emotions, the swelling of
passion, which their movements evoked. it was as if i was one with them.
watching them dance around the large stage, under large lights, with
thousands of eyes following their every move, it was a completely private
moment. timeless and inspiring; but containing every inspiration from all
of time. i could have watched forever - 'my definition of heaven', went through
my mind, and also that this is something i enjoy doing as i enjoy doing nothing else.
rant for the sake of rant.
love for the sake of love.
patience is what i lack.
it's a contradiction, you know, thinking if i ask
enough questions that i'll come up with conclusions.
the vagueries annoy.
and what of my inner soul to reveal today?
that i am perfectly happy?
that i like myself?
nah, too boring. no one wants to know that.
i'm just too happy. it's the optimistic comparison
theory, i know. almost makes me depressed.
anyhow, soon i'll be too excited to worry about
the whole web thing is already kinda boring me.
what a shame, surfing the web to eventually be
a non-issue. bye bye. things which used to be
fascinating, mind-grabbing, now dull and lifeless.
is that better?
do i win now?
first moment of waking today, eyes wide, feet eager, and no clear
recollection of the exact hour i had layed down to rest. the rubble pile
a tad more managable-looking, i must decide quickly, what is to come
on friday night.
my tomes of poetry lacking, there
have been many mornings where i
would have chosen one and transcribed it here. but alas, they are
cosily nestled some three thousand miles away, where my new home
and - well, and the one who makes it so, await my arrival.
in all, a pleasant afternoon-
as proud eyes beamed in every direction,
our father and my greatest mentor, strode across a stage and accepted
a degree in music. yes, with five children and one child-in-law, two loving
sisters, and a beautiful wife present, a long held dream and goal was finally
his forever. it is difficult even for me to continue the thought processes
associated with this topic, as it is more emotional a subject than i care
to deal with at this particular moment in time.
so many things to look at differently.
there is no reality, only your perception,
and if your perception does not allow you to appreciate something, then your
perception will limit you. on the one hand, they are pompous fools parading
around in gowns and funny hats using big words; on the exact other, they
are erudite scholars whose open minds and analytical souls have helped to
advance the human condition...
i'm thinking about what i write
here and what i don't get the chance to.
much is fogotten and swept into the oblivion that is life, and the remnants
appear here. often only a smattering of what has actually passed through my
thoughts; and always only what my sanity will permit me to. daily, and daily,
more profound thoughts and analyses make their way to and from my conscious
however my life is such that it may never get written here, or anywhere.
this is of concern to me, and that is why i am writing it now. this concept, in fact,
one of those remnants, contemplated an realized while driving my car.
and another, what i have learnt;
or no, not what i have learnt, but that i have.
looking back at what was written in the past and realizing how much i have
grown since. is it a function of writing here? no one can say, really - this is
something which can never be proved so we shall not try, however, a dramatic
change has taken place and for that i am somewhat scared, but truly glad.
wish we could be by the sea, walking hand in hand, planning our tomorrow,
whilst warm salt-misted breezes would be combing our hair and soothing our
faces. We could side-step the waves as they lap up the beach in their attempt
to catch us unawares and we, unwitting as we may be, would eventually be
overcome by one sudden, massive urgeing of the moon, and have our ankles
surrounded by the delicious water of a day's sunchine become heat. We can
love and be at peace with the knowledge of an uncertain tomorrow. Unlike the
certainty in which we are in right now." - E.G.G. 1993
sleep-eyed in the darkness of
this morning, i have made some progress here.
certain surfaces are cleared, and more papers loaded into the recycling box.
diskettes amassed, food distributed, i must plan the boxes carefully. today
will be a busy day, but none are actually as busy as i ever vision them to be.
rain washes the city.
i dream, i dream.
celebrations are celebrated, the sun still shines.
some people got older, some got smarter.
all seemed to enjoy one aspect or another of being
out on the water; weird tasting beer, foamy froth
wetting our faces; that familiar whine of racecars in
the distance, the stripe-clad guide/singer lending us
a nonetheless enjoyable melody in his all-too-broken english,
and for some, simply the peace and quiet of the slightly cool
Canadian June wind on their face as we wound our way
up and down the seaway.
me, i enjoyed it all. taking
it in for both of us, looking out
to where he is and thinking of the words he would have
spoken. my pride and joy overrides true sadness, but the
effects of not hearing his voice or feeling his arms are
starting to set in, and i look forward to Friday as I have
not looked forward to a day in a very long time.
a gentle, most delicate and unthreatening
the tops of the trees. and the life giving sun whitens the
pale almost-summer sky.
nice day for a picnic.
this is all i am thinking.
"If I can see it, I can be it" (R.(?) Kelly)
yes, there are truer thoughts
rumaging through my thick skull,
but not ones which would do any good if seen here. life comes
and life goes, with it, numerous realities. just because every
single one of these realities isn't scribed for anyone - even me,
to see, doesn't mean they are not real, doesn't mean i am
avoiding them. many things leave prints whether we admit it
or not. i must choose to write something, being incapable of
writing everything. i choose to write what makes my life more
enjoyable, not less. reminds me of the evil 's-of-c' accusations,
as if i write all and any blubber which flows from my conscious.
you may deem it blubber all you wish, this is completely your perogative,
but if you think it has no underlying structure, no strict form,
and little relevance to the rest of my life, then you have simply
missed the point. and believe me, there most certainly is one.
this busy mind is also a busy
body. moving pianos, planning trips,
firing off emails and phone calls, canceling services, running off to
summer parties, out to dinners, long conversations, planning
celebrations, shopping for gifts for very special occasions...
i rub my groggy eyes, stretch
my arched back, exhale deeply,
getting wonderful compliments
about this place, the goose was
very pleased. so the little pitter patter of my insides continues,
adrenalin pushing me onward, tea and coffee keeping me awake,
the southern hemisphere drawing me ever closer, ever near.
stories of that place keeping
me warm inside too -
pictures in my head, imaginings, dreamings,
all perfectly wonderful things. i am smiling.
that's the crux of the matter.
what if all i want right now, is someone
to share just this moment with. not to go skiing, or running, or to a
movie...just to share this moment, this one right here, right now. that
is all i want.
i see people more as people,
as entities in an of themselves. they may be
in the parent slot, the wife or husband slot, or guy pumping gas slot, but
but in all cases, they were individuals first. i can't see him solely as 'her
husband'. sometimes i feel slotted, unfairly - and to both person's loss.
weirder than staying on the telephone
until 2 am? traffic at midnight in
the decarie. enough cars there, going in both directions, to think it was
6:30 pm on a winter night.
old bette middler song on the
Kanawake station at 11:49 pm. "one more
for the road"...did they really mean drink...? there really are eras which
are not only forgotten, but that society in general wouldn't want to admit
even happened. thinking of this concept and then looking at the 'gen xers'
around me (some would say i am one, but i refute this notion strongly)
i see a discrepancy so great, a gap so wide, that i am saddened. but what
exactly am i seeing, now? can i go on about this and completely ignore the
perception factor? can i really beg to differ? who the hell do i think i am,
unfortunately, i do have a very clear idea of just who the hell i think i am.
does it really matter which ones i kept;
"Dec.5, 1980: Hi Lou, Thank God it's Friday, ain't it the truth. I wish we were able to get a reward Friday but somehow I doubt it very much, I hate the rules in this school. I think they should make allowances. Anywyas what's been happening with you and Kevin? Did you talk to anyone about it? How'd the play go last night? I really wanted to be in it but I was too shy! Maybe next time. Why didn't you try out? Your the type of person who could get up on a stage and act, have you ever? You'd probably be good. I was in a play last year, it was Panicks getting everything ready and we missed alot os school. What do you think the history test will be like? He just gave us all the things that should be on the test, it doesn't seem too much, but that's not what I thought last time and I ended up with a lousy mark. I still kina like Bob (is that his name?) you know who he is, he's got blond hair and really nice blue eyes. Well he probably doesn't know I exist, that's what I hate about being too shy. If I'd been here for a year or 2 I would be really open and loud, I always am, but I am having a hard time breaking in this time. I would appreciate greatly any advice you could give me to help me out. It's not that I don't have a few friends it's just that when I first meet people I turn them off because i'm really hard to talk to when i'm around people I don't know. Well, gotta go, write back, love N."
oh yes, oh yes it does. what a treasure this one is, how many thoughts went through my head as i transcribed it. from the life of a new kid in town, to how making new friends from other places due to my gregariousness, may have helped form whom i am and how i see other people, the world.
this girl now owns a successful
childrens clothing store not far from where i sit.
morning (again!) in the city.
warmth and sunshine following it's inhabitants daily now, for more than one week.
i dreamt of things. i awoke at 4 am. i kissed Ramona goodnight, and i said a prayer.
pray for all the little things, whose essence is ignored. pray for what could never understand right from wrong, and for what has never known the strength to feel guilty for doing wrong nor the pleasure from doing right. pray for the lonely, those without
persons to even try and communicate with.
"throw sad reflections to the wind"
"old friend, here we are,
i'd forgotten how nobody else can make me smile
the way you do, all my life, noone ever has known me better-and i must
have travelled down a thousand roads, been so many places, seen so many
faces, always on my way to something new. "
semi groggy, i'm going back for
the bottom of the pot.
re-reading old mep words, i'm reminded of a more bold time.
when mostly anything in my head could be writ here.
although sort of over, i am given strength of conviction in doing so.
confidance. it is important to write things about yourself and then
look at those words. it is one perspective of yourself which you can
never get anywhere else, and probably an important one. K asked why
i write, and i probably said not for myself, however isn't that the beauty?
to live life in such a way that you do not know the outcome? as a wise
person once told me, "if you plan your life very carefully, all you will ever
achieve are those plans".
do i have to be able to answer
must i make a balance sheet?
cannot i simply know myself and trust myself to make the right decisions?
i have made wrong ones, and this is to be expected, but i will not balance
just for the sake of balancing. i will not weigh my actions when convenient.
i will not learn to convince myself that something is right, or wrong. i feel.
someone, somewhere - has given
me the ability to feel, to trust myself.
this is not a lashing out, not an assumption of others. there are others
i trust, others i believe in. but ultimately, it is myself i must face, and so
myself whom i must believe in. this is something i know i have, but the
forces of life are strong and so i spend a little time relearning this.
one more thing before i leave
you for today.
i must believe in God... i pray.
when you're alone, you realize
that there aren't too many people
you feel close to. you look around, wondering who would understand
what you are thinking. who could you share just this moment, with?
it also is teaching me that being alone is just as
easy as being with you.
my own company, and that of yours, are extremely similar, and this is
something we have often take for granted. there are no rights, no wrongs,
no tugging, no unaturals. just being. being is such an important state and
i really wonder how common it is.
i am easily tugged away from the obvious things, to
by this place. watching things around me, lying over this place,
and continuously returning. i must like it here.
...i really hesitate to bring this up again, but a
strong desire to right a wrong
disables me from doing so; it would seem that television has raised a population.
no, i am not referring to children. i am referring to us, to me. think about how you
make decisions, how you choose. think about why you want what you do. so often,
we choose the worn path, the empty road, the route of least resistance. think about
what must have caused this.
- - - -
we've spent our lives choosing choices, and little else.
- - - -
june 7 out of town but not out of my mind
people who weigh. if only they
wouldn't weigh, they wouldn't need to weigh.
watching people's projects, i am insanely curious about my own.
i did that, i try to tell them. 'yeah, sure' - they probably think. you
had a huge garden which you tended to every day, with lavender
and camomile, lupins and eggplants. tomatoes as juicy as tomorrow,
and rosemary lined up in a row. yeah, sure you did. but i did, i think.
of course i did.
i know the mornings of waterings
i know the evenings of planting and picking.
i know the planning, the careful seeding, the watching them grow.
i know the eating meals prepared with these growings,
the flowers from the yard to the table,
the picking and preserving the basil just before the 2 degrees
passes it's dark hand in the night, leaving the leaves black -
taking away their beauty.
this project of mine has ended,
for now. and what in it's stead?
the true dilemma, as i walked amongst the hostas and the dark
patch of grass being watered where the purple ones will bloom.
wondering, where is my project which i sit alone with, where i
connect with something, nurture and feed it, where it is as much
a part of me, as i am of it? it took several moments, and a long
drive home on the dark starry autoroute, but i believe that i know
what that project is now, where it lurks...
it is here.
it is you, it is me,
it is us.
june 5th rushing rushing
my singularity swirls around
with my non-singularity. yesterday, a day of
many good thoughts.
in general, i am not in the habit
of analyzing my female friends in terms of
their faults as a potential mate.
i have the numbers i require,
the addresses i desire, and the dates i aspire to.
i've got it all, actually. but, there must be one element missing. i wonder what
it seems like a long time and
then it doesn't. there is something much more
definate than any amount of time binding our spirits together. i am reading
and re-reading words you wrote in 1981 from Calgary, and it's well, it's a
juvenile you, but there you are, in every line. God how i love the way you've
matured and grown into the confidant person that you are. look at you now!
once i leave this seat on the
floor, the day begins. it swirls and swooshes
me from here to there, interacting...giving and taking...in motion. how i enjoy
my time here, still as a bird, alone with my thoughts. the bottom of the mug
a lonely sight indeed.
(...polaroid understands..."document, communicate, prove" written on the mug)
...i love my babs! and i don't
care if the big tapes are rolling!!!
i have news, i tried to call, but the line was busy.:(
copied and pasted ...
Can't they see how WRONG it is?
"Make Dad Happy, buy him a cellular phone"
can't they figure out that they (i.e., we) have created this state we live in? ... the ONLY reason DAD thinks he wants a cellular phone is because of the VERY AD you are advertising!!! Why do we let this control so much of our lives? Why do we let them tell us what we want, what we eat, wear, do?
on the other side /
He says: "just put it in an envelope…" what is the thought process that leads him to say this? I am in a good mood, so I say, "It's OK, I'll bring it to him." In another mood, I would not be so nice so quickly and I would get very angry by his comment, which assumes that I am just about a moron and do not have the inclination to figure out my own choices myself. How much do I put up with because I am in a good mood?
It seems that women, more oft than men, have music in their office. i Wonder why?
in silk and green
my hair becomes a mess
to being amused
how could i ask for less?
i miss your eyes watching me
and await the day your inner strength
brings the all of you i used to have
i know how your eyes caress the
words i write;
how your spirit is taken away.
your inspiration here is with me daily
and the lines you have drawn of me,
encircle it's presence. i will keep it there for you.
back and forth we go. life, living,
rumaging through the same concepts over and over again.
'to every thing turn turn turn'. i never thought i would grow
to realize the inherent truth in this, nevermind enjoy the process.
and that's a big step. again though, are we preaching to the converted?
maybe we must preach each and every sunday, just to catch a few.
God only knows, we don't catch fish every minute our line is in the water.
the greater part of what this
place has now become,
began nearly one year ago, now. oh - perhaps the grey
is not completely coincidental...?
late night calls leaving me sleepy, almost comatose.
but! he's doing fine, our new home will be blue,
and it would seem that we weren't really looking.
the place is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
i must say it's a struggle, remaining
all the time, but the optimisms are better than the
the excercise which I so adamantly
yesterday now between the exhausted head
is not helping, not helping at all...
And? me and my dustballs...
We're not feeling blue. We're
still feeling strong,
stopped staring at the dirt and cleaned it.
stopped wondering about things and did them.
Now it's time to learn what i can from this pre-
experience and apply it to forever.
june is clear, for clarity. crisp
and clean like the air which rushes in
and curls the plants. clarity which will clear my lungs.
well what a day! fundraising
breaky, nearly drove to Cornwall,
climbed a mountain in the sun, delicious fish with the family,
and a lesson at the driving range.
punctuated with story-telling,
changing shoes, and thinking about
really-really-big-man. he knows where little poots is, as i know, even
now, moreso, where his essence is.
i mean, people don't come up
to me and ask, "well...how much do you
love him, anyway?"
sometimes i just wish they would, though.
kind of like learning to enjoy fine wine,
eventually you end up doing
stuff like those who know better