Garsh what Words eventually cannot express.
How empty this place can become.
If I turn my head
and no one is there;
If I reach my hand
and in return, take the other,
when my voice lands no where;
and my heart,
longs to hold you;
No words no phrase no one
can ever, really know.
this page will end now.
a second 'page', an eternity, without you.
even when you feel ugliest,
people look at you. they come into your
office and they say hello. they pass by and
say 'hi beautiful'. they send you very uplifting
and encouraging email. they write pretty nice
stuff about your mep.
But you still feel ugly.
in a movie theatre, before most
a culture of similarly-clad youngsters mill about.
they are so into each other, so keen, so young:
"Would you say Harrison
Ford is a good-looking
man for his age? He's a stud, eh?"
"Ever go to Crystal Palace?
Crystal Palace is
perhaps the goal to happiness
is to always be
learning. and we grow up and learn to stop.
then the one with the navy jacket
and metal nametag
strolls over casually, and suggests politely that they
'look busy'. they aren't insulted. they speak the same
one of them is so beautiful,
where did she get those
one father-son combo grabs a
pile of mustard packages.
'for the boat?' the son asks. 'yep' says the dad.
ahh, just another night at the movie theatre.
i guess that is the stealing that everyone talks about.
yes, when someone else is doing it,
it most certainly does look like stealing.
have long wondered what the Darwinian
view of 'modern evolution' is.
finally think i've got some kind of answer. reading through snippets
from The Moral Animal: Evolutionary Psychology and Everyday Life
(1994 Robert Wright). the notion that evolution hasn't stopped, but
in fact may be going faster.
So HOW did ape brains become human brains in such a short period of time? He says because the environment of humans since then has been HUMANS. So the evolution of human beings has consisted largely of adaption to one another. Adaption invites more adaption.
so then i hear those monotone
voices outside my office.
am thinking. hmm connection between their lack of 'showiness'
and the invention of birth control...? ok maybe that's a bit too quick, but something's got to explain it, something just does.
groggy abit. no cream. cool air. toss and turn.
worry worry brain speeds along chugga chugga chugga.
late now 8:38.
"Despite the fact that
the Acadians had been scattered over
a vast territory and forced to wander for years, it is astonishing
that by the beginning of the 1800's, more than 70 percent of the
estimated 23,400 Acadians were located in the Maritimes and Quebec.
About 17 percent were living in Louisiana. the story of the return
of the Acadians is a story of the tenacity of a people and the
profound attachment to ancestral lands."
-S. Ross, A. Deveau
"The Acadians of Nova Scotia"
you got all those sleepy depressed
hormones running around in yu.
you gotta get up to put that drug into you which will make them
go away. you scoop it out - measuring the dose - and let the boiling
water rush through it, eluding out the chemical which once perfused
into your neuronal networks, will send those thoughts of hopelessness
into some back-seat mode so that the rest of the day can happen.
on some days, the process is less complete than others.
not to belabour a point, but
the holy spirit tried to pick me up
on friday night. of course, everyone thought he was a total
lunatic. me, i thought he had more interesting things to say than
the majority of the people in that place. they couldn't figure what
he was doing there, but in the end, i think he made a good choice.
and then there's the
great cooincidence of the day.
Région Touristique de la Montérégie
and so i read it. that's
when i realize that i can read french.
SO the cooincidence
here's my answer to your dilemma, while
trying to insult noone:
most people aren't interested.
they're not interested in me, in you, nor in themselves.
they're just here to be entertained,
nanosecond by nanosecond.
[you said it yourself, thinking can be scary.]
learning more about cliches.
about people, over and over again.
how many times will i relearn what i already know? as many times
as my consciousness allows me to see the world differently, i guess.
[and while i'm feeling not-so
elusive, i'll say thank-you to efn
for saying such *nice* things about the mEp.] :-)
these are those dates that you
to stop in their tracks. they used to be
longer ones. when we spent them exploring
an unknown section of a field - or trying to
walk across the damn, on that section that
was just a little too deep for comfort...
murph and i had raisin bran for
he likes his dry. i don't like mine at all.
late nite call and tossing, leaving
i don't have some God-awful horrific story
to tell. my life has been abnormal (read; normal).
no horribler-than life depression, no brutal
divorce, no graphic pictures of scary dogs here.
i still find most people painfully boring.
this is the part i need. the
quiet time. alone with
my thoughts. to examine every object nearby.
to examine me, without the influences. it takes
real time to do this. i glance at the floor. look up
at the screen. down at the keys. around. around.
thinking of the sixties. the seventies. the eighties.
the weirdness that is now, this slice in time. this
second. the only second we know. i cannot come
up with conclusions anymore. only questions.
and i can't say i enjoy that. i was happy with my
conclusions. when i knew it all. perfectly. would
i choose this?
four minutes to shower time now,
i'm thinking of
the old room. the birthplace of the mEp and the
origins of our newfound world of wonder. thinking
about it yesterday, i reminded myself of life before
the internet - and thought about life after it. how it
fits into a 'new world order' or something funky like
that. why should i be able to send messages 3000
miles west in seconds, via a computer situated 3000
miles east of here? this doesn't make sense. this is
star trek material. we shouldn't be able to do this and
we just don't know what to do with it. perhaps the
disorganization of the corporate structure around me
is in fact, truly representative of this new order, er,
disorder. i dislike this disorder. i dislike pretending
that something makes sense. i dislike the attitude -
or shall i say, lack thereof, that i see in the younger
generation. here's my virgo side.
and the infusion is complete.
i'll drag my sorry ass outta here now.
the city never looked as beautiful as it did last night.
coming over that familiar bridge, picture to the west, a flatter land,
the expanse of suburbia clothed in the orange crimson glow of the
setting sun. the layers of color, rubbed into one another, as no artist
has ever done. and to the east, the crispest of outlines against a
backdrop so edibly blue.
as i drove through this wonder,
marveling at the mere priviledge,
going back in my mind to places which exist only there-
and looking ahead to the promise of all our tomorrows,
a song played on the car radio, as if by design. for a moment,
all of the sights around me, the specks of light splashed onto
the summer sky, the stillness of the motion that is the city at
for the full effect ... 668kb($%#@!@#)...
"Everything you are
Everything you'll be
Touches the current of love
So deep in me Every sigh in the night
Every tear that you cry
And all that I am
And all that I'll be
Means nothing at all If you can't be with me
Your most inocent kiss
Or your sweetest caress
I don't care about tomorrow
I've given up on yesterday
Here and now is all that matters
Right here with you is where I'll stay
Everything in this world
Every voice in the night
Every little thing of beauty
Comes shining thru in your eyes
And all that is you becomes part of me too
'Cause all you do seduces me
And if i should die tomorrow
I'd go down with a smile on my face
I thank God I've ever known you
I fall down on my knees
For all the love we've made
Every sigh in the night
Every tear that you cry
And all that you do
Words: Dan Hill Music: Dan Hill / John Sheard As performed by Celine Dion
HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABS!
it's a time to learn about my faults. writing that
it very clear. it's a time to struggle. to believe. to hide.
to see the relationship between activities we have
meaningless, and the lack of meaning surrounding us.
you are the only one who can see the meaning, do not let
go of it. the meaning comes from within. what you choose
to do with it is yours and yours alone.
hold on to that meaning. if it brings you precious
memories, then by all means relish them. but if you
find yourself wanting something which simply is not
yours - then you must let it go. and how can i know?
this is the knowledge i must pray for.
there are not always answers, little poots.
the solutions are not always calculated.
there are parts of life to which no philosophy applies.
learn this. live this.
living in both worlds is extremely difficult,
for all of us,
for all of us.
the 'right' philosophy.
i guess you could say that i have never really gotten
misunderstanding of philosophy. i waited patiently, all through
that class back in 1980, all year long, for her to tell us which
was the right one. but there's got to be a right one, i thought,
you've got to tell me how to see the world, i'm certainly not capable
of figuring it out for myself. unfortunatley, either i never asked,
or she didn't understand the question, or i didn't understand the
answer. i'm inclined to go with the latter.
in a sense, i am still waiting for the right one to come along.
good morning, world. the sun shines and the thermometer
a voice is singing a haunting but peaceful melody.
over and over
again; i recognize it. it's coming from the other room. i go in there,
look around, realize i am alone. the voice is mine. the song is mine.
the memory it evokes, mine. the person it soothes, is me. it is keeping
me company, makes me smile, takes away the aloneness.
"weave, weave, weave me the sunshine
out of the falling rain
weave me the hope of a new tomorrow
and fill my cup again.
well i've seen the steel and the concrete crumble
shine on me again
the proud and the mighty; they all have stumbled
shine on me again."
oh my friend,
you are all the jazz fests;
all the tamtams;
all the sunshine in july;
and so much more.
i keep tellling myself; tears of love and the best kind...
"The first time
ever I saw your face
I thought the sun
rose in your eyes
and the moon and the stars
were the gifts you gave
to the dark and the endless skies, my love.
to the dark and the endless skies."
-Ewan MacColl 1969
they read the words, seldom commenting on them. i wonder,
often, what the point is.
but i go on, i must create. it is for the sake of creation, for the sake of someone who
feels things, and even though she may not translate those feelings into something
entirely english, conversant.
what would i write here if i could?
enquiring minds want to know, including myself.
8:49 am now and the day is a cold one.
the quietest this house has been, i pull
on my dark green socks. i can hear my
heart beating, still, inside my makeshift
earplugs to block out the whining of the cpu.
it's a small problem, i must not let it annoy
me too much. what would a writer write,
given this cool morning, the day ahead,
the coffee infused, the family 3000 miles away,
and toiletpaper earplugs? would this person
write a love story? a life history?, a
treatise on newly found mystery for the
younger generation? or, again, find herself
writing about writing.
what i cannot write here is what fills my mind. and the
more i think of what i cannot
write, the more thoughts that i cannot write fill my mind. go away, thoughts. let me
write what i can. what a silly order, go away, thoughts. well the thoughts are there
and unfortunately, they cannot be written here. that's life. the frustrations of having
the ability or knowhow to do something, and also the insight to know that you should
nite of flying dreams...
clb and i are driving in a car along a cliff. i'm driving, and as we round a sharp corner, the speed is such that i feel i am losing control. i try to slow down, but the momentum is already sending us outward. finally, off the cliff we go, soaring into the air like an airplane. we are kind of stunned, sit there looking at each other, we are flying now. I try to 'steer' us to a landing, and thankfully we are over water. there are many pleasure boats below. i aim towards one, so that they can pull us out of the water before the car sinks. as we are nearly at the water, i awake.
on a blacony with D and E and a plane goes by right in
front of us. it
ended up on the news and then i was able to go out and see it go by again.
then another went by.
also, in dr t's lab, then living with a wonderful black woman [DRE:(listening to roberta flack)] who is showing me how to do dishes and telling me how long it normally takes her to clean up, as if i were a five year old. she was so very soft spoken and kind to me.finally we went out somewhere but i don't remember where.
where is the time
we used to share
the time that passed
as if thin air?
those hours short,
now oh so long
i reach for them,
but they are gone.
i glance around
this scattered room
the floor a mess
where junk is strewn
it glances back
as if to say
what point are we
while he's away?
was i to know
this sense of loss
where nothing means
when i'm the boss
with every tear
since being alone
a greater sense,
that you're my home
they are polite enough, but talk
circles around me until i am blue
in the face. i ask them a question and they give me the answer
to a question that their brain made up because it did
not understand the question. 40 dollars later, i've got an answer,
alright, but not to the question i asked. hmm. put up with
incompetence because people are different? hmm. everyone
can't know everything? why do i care if bill gates makes more
money than the president of the united states by noon on Jan.1?
he may have to deal with an imperfect
workforce, but his plan
certainly does seem to be working.
and B says "why do we need anything else?"
hmm he even had a good explanation.
but it's not logical.
it's not right, it's just not right. the most important premise
of evolution is diversity. without it, there's nothing to select.
it doesn't make sense. it's not right.
(part of an ongoing dilemma in my
mind, where other
people are telling me 'why don't you write every deep
thought that comes into my mind:)
example #1. i could write for
pages, here, anywhere, about
how much i miss him. why would i? What would be the point?
For me, that is. Sure, someone else may enjoy it, sure, in
ten years i'll look back and reminisce, sure, maybe it would
be wonderful romantic literature...But What Would Be The
Point, Here, and Now? For ME. and maybe therein lies the
answer. here, now, me. maybe that's my answer, then:
'because i write for the here, the now, the me.'
i'm not enjoying these dates,
these july 14s and 15s.
they are telling me very little.
rain pouring down all
around me. dreamlike, throughout the night
it awoke me in it's crashing. each loud drop, like darts through
my heart. a piercing realization as i struggle with easily the
most difficult time of my life. learning what i'm not, while
trying to remember who i am. trying to come up with explanations
for them, as well as for me, and fumbling. the plan to be weak
and strong at once is a hard one. which way do i turn. even plans
are difficult. i lean, i fall over. i don't lean, i don't feel.
how can i be all of these
things at the same time. i cannot and
all i can do for the moment is apologize, hope that someone will
understand. one minute it's a big deal, the next, a speck. it all
depends on how you look at it, and being in the middle of it, i
am blessed with the freedom to look at it from good or from bad.
ha. if only i could choose. but i am learning to choose, and then when i do, i still get criticised. not to say that there are not many
around me who are giving me strength. i try to focus on what they
tell me, how their words make me feel.
dispite all of the above,
things are becoming rounder, less rough at the edges. my center is coming
back, gravity holding me in place.
i must force this experience to make me stronger in good ways.
as he would tell me, in ways which are true to me. it's been easy
to retract, retreat, regroup. this part of the excerise has been
very true to me. i enjoy this. deep sigh. the coffee murmor.
a small smile creeps over
my pursed lips.
i so enjoy these mep words.
i so enjoy to feel.
so we surround ourselves with
and then we manage to develop a misrepresentation
of the remaining portion.
i miss the heat of the city.
the pulse of listening to it awake.
the movement, which for me signifies life.
i am learning what a neighborhood means.
to feel like you belong somewhere.
how many things must we detach ourselves from in order to learn about?
let's learn to fall in love with people, not men and women.
whose birthday is it today? oh yeah, France.
you know a house is quiet when the dog sleeps in.
i am a non-scheduler. mainly,
i can't figure out the parts
to schedule and the parts not to.
interesting interview on television
that the fear of the 2000 PC crash is actually a metaphor
for our fear of the year 2000, of the future. that we are
're-making' things (everything, just look around you)
out of this fear.
who says nothing on tv is interesting? (i do, but that's besides the point)
i'm just sitting here chewing my lip,
thinking about a softball game
and other stuff,
listening to the hum of the PC.
i'm staring at the mEp
rubbing a little hive or mosquito bite on my left cheek
worrying about moonpals and other stuff
and now it's 7.42.
thinking about growing up here
listening to lyrics of music which
never completely represented our society. our neighbors to the
south sing of distances, miles between lovers, moving around from
one city to another, leaving one's heart here, being a west-coaster
or an east coaster. it's a bit of a discrepancy, for us, who perhaps
move around less. did these lyrics affect us-or create visions in our
minds of a world which perhaps is more real than we could know?
my right arm reaches to Toronto,
my left to sunny California.
are my hands full?
i am writing a song.
the lyrics come, as i watch those around me,
as i think about my actions, my desires.
with the time to sit and reflect, i am able to make observations.
they allow me to create. in this way, i subject them to my love,
even though they are so very very far away - in mind or in body.
soon i will need more than these
words. perhaps, if i could write
everything they want me to write, each and every morsel which
passes through my cranium, perhaps i would not need more.
however, in paper last night i thought about what would be that
more, that forbidden. and i conclude, again, and again, what would
be the point? certainly there is a hopeless romantic side to it;
the gut-wrenching openess of the hero of yore, the vivid self extraction
of the modern novelist, the timeless beauty of a child's precious honesty.
methinks i am none of these...but of perhaps i am all of them, too.
who would know?
a tennis ball gets dropped by
my side. what a beautiful thing, this creature
who apparently has no concept of 6:53 AM. i'm told he's a terrier mix, by
someone else who was told he's a terrier. what a funny word to see written
here. i do enjoy his company.
the house begins to awake, and
the he runs this way, and that. each day
no less exciting, for him. his pitter patter/click/click a constant reminder
of a life form whose mind is not occupied, whose heart is always open,
and whose tail will always wag when you bend over and scratch his head.
nope, i'm not used to balancing.
not used to things crashing on the left,
and growing on the right. this is a highly unusual stance for me. therefore
i will do as i have done; stare at the crashing for a while, and then simply
allow the growing to take it's course. slowly, it strengthens.
'i can go the distance'.
happy 9th, little one.
feeling slighly more grounded
now, laughing at messages and
the font gets bigger. fatigue can play a large part in one's mental
state, i think we often forget. a new batch of coffee helps too.
things are becoming more rounded,
not necessarily grounded, but rounded.
coming together, in a (focal) point, which is my center,
where as a group, they strengthen me.
familiarity with a new surrounding,
a few moments to chill out,
people 'connecting' again.
contact. let's connect.
toothpaste, stamps, the small things are keeping me going,
because the big ones are very far away.
this room is nice, with a view, and a large jawbreaker in a bag.
"los angeles on line"
clean clothes piled high.
So, is it really about being stretched thin? Is it about balance? What if everyone has different definitions of balance? Many of the people around me are new. Many of the people are not new. But somehow, they look unfamiliar.
yes, i am looking back to more
and yes, it most certainly is getting more difficult to write here,
many different sets of eyes watching...
k says "write". well,
sometimes the words don't come.
sometimes the peace required for the best ones
just is nowhere to be found.
and i am feeling a touch of guilt for my day,
and am wishing there was something i could do...
"here i am"
teetering between excitement and dispair
i'm following a thin line which isn't there-
sometimes on the left, and sometimes on the right
why does such a grand thing feel like such a fight.
"there i go"
watch me run, watching the clock
why can't i stop myself
why is it a race
put things in their place.
"If you don't
don't bend a perfectly good one."
-Joan Powers (inspired by a.a.milne)
are streaks and the clouds which are puffs mingle
above. they lull me into a world that is the place i must refer to as the past.
dancing together, they have remained clouds. I, however, have succumbed
to all the things which now make me me. the smell of the grass, a memory,
hot pavement under my feet, and the orange line above my lips, only thoughts
which make me sigh.
as I make my way to and fro, the blue sky
and the familiar
faces give me strength. I am whole, again. strong, again. confident, again.
the words coming from my mouth with conviction, with the character that is me.
important functions, very small ones, are oh so important. I must make a conscious
effort to remember this and reproduce it.
"slow down" they
"do not run around like a chicken with no head."
ironic, on a day when i finally feel as if i have one.
and it's been a while since i felt that way.
j uly 4th
flag-waving, rah rah rah.
empty mind constantly rushing, empty
heart and empty hands too. glancing around at the usual references,
they're not talking to me. i'm floating. i'm not really here.
i rub my eyes and try to be here, try to focus, try to feel grounded,
but the clock that i must stare at is yelling at me. i am telling myself, she'll call. i hate clocks right now. why can't i just have
the time i need? when it arrives, tomorrow, i won't need it anymore.
no matter who's around, who's talking about me.
i absolutely cannot stand
i absolutely hate to be rushed.
the coffee hasn't done a fucking thing.
now home is the other way. i'm thinking about the connectedness of the lonely in this place. haven't really looked at myself in that group for a while, but am starting to once again.
J uly 2nd, 1997
m ore color in my life
coming at me from all directions now
faces unknown, yet kind
surrounding me with warmth
shining at me with things i need.
i never thought i'd meet them
i never knew they cared
but in my darkest hour;
here they are
and they are real.
this is real.
and why is reality such a shock to me?
which part of 'life' don't i understand?
i'm not entirely upset that there are things i don't get,
but i'm not entirely pleased about it either.
"I learned a long time ago
that a place is just a place.
But a memory is the place you go
when you're looking for a face."
and Billy joel wrote;
"Today i do what must be done
I give my time to total strangers
but now it feels as though the day goes on forever
more than it ever did
Until the night, Until the night
I just might make it
Until the night, Until the night
When I see you again."