aUGUST 29- 97 (FRIDAY)
two successful chats in a row,
like i said, i've become netarati.
it is comforting, in a dulling sort of way.
i'm just waiting for the comfort
and also the busy zone;
they speak of these,
M and G know i can, and will, thrive.
i know i will, there will be a phase of
adjustment, but then i will excel.
but the comfort part of it is important too.
you know, just a little something that's yours.
yours, ours, mine, his.
but what is mine, and what is mine that
really matters...i must not forget what i have,
what no one or no lack of space and time can
take from me. and it travels through this worl
collecting, shredding, accumulating;
and none of what i gather is insignificant.
nor the faces; nor the city;
nor the smiles lighting my life...
making the planet a little warmer,
and that much sweeter,
and the lunchtime walks and talks with the
tall one, more precious than gold-
the endless coffee breaks, bumps and jolts,
making the place human-in the oddest way.
leaning over a rose or staring at pictures
of little blond ones in daddy's arms;
i have learned, yes, to conform - to the degree
that has salvaged and now destroyed me.
but if neither, then nor to be saved and nor
to be saved again.
i can do this.
i will do this.
my last entry
into this wonderfully august
place, my second favorite of the lot.
and i'm petrified
and swimming with fuzzies of all kinds...
aUGUST 28- 97 (THURSDAY)
"feelin' stronger every day"
gosh gosh gosh.
blue threads and everyone is embracing me.
and what have i done to deserve this? no one
knows really. murph arrives for his morning
hug, and i'm still wondering...why now?
woke feeling strong, very strong. on top of
this little thing we call the world. strong for
both of us, perhaps. for all of us, perhaps.
the java is defective, and the
won't go away. just wonderful little feelings
swimming around my body, wishing there
were something else i could do this morning
than sit here and type to you. but alas.
for the longest time, i hoped
work could bring
me something. i wanted to get ahead, i wanted
to work hard. over the past few years, i did some
of both of that, but eventually had to accept that
it was just the place i went every day. at least i
have somewhere to go. But. then, something
happened. and it happened at a very strange time.
i looked around one day, and that work part of work
was replaced by friends. the friends that i'd been
looking for elsewhere; the friends that i'd always
wanted to have; the friends that i will miss.
work brought me something, alright. something i
didn't even know i wanted out of work.
something i didn't know i had.
and i didn't even see it coming.
so now, it is not the work that i will miss,
but the friends. this is the crappiest lesson
i have ever had to learn. things come to you
when you're not looking for them. they really do.
how can i change this? i don't want this now, it's not fair.
or is this just how i see it?
i wish it were.
i wish it were.
take the energy they give
and turn it into positive;
take your life in one strong hand
and while you're falling
learn to stand.
aUGUST 27- 97 (WoDenSDAY)
i should be worrying, or, yes i am.
calculations and birthdays; a special one
soon-and another retirement, imagine that?
deep sigh of mini angst.
what day is it? stuff and stuff and being told
what to do is annoying.
spicy food does not like my gut
but i am really enjoying my hair now.
i can grab it, turn it, watch them putting the
plates on the table, ahh the simple pleasures.
not everyone knows them, nor they should.
to know them, a certain amount of freedom
is required. freedom, yes.
perhaps my cheque awaits me at 4855.
lacking freedom now and i will meditate away
the worries, who only bring stress and then
potential diseases. we have no need for this
and we will not let them come.
stark contrasts in life make it go.
smiling then angsting.
rollarcoasters, as they warned us.
we don't want to believe it, and we try to
avoid them but sometimes they are life.
sometimes we don't have the choice.
learn when. learn to smile on the way up
as well as on the way down. talk yourself in/out
of whatever you need to.
remember, you like to talk.
no sleep dreams today, i can't imagine why.
aUGUST 25- 97 (MONDAY)
my arms look nice. when they
browned by the summer sun and are taught
from a summer's worth of activities, i like them.
now they are the only body part left that does this.
the days are still hot, sunny. lunch in the heat.
walking the long block with the regulars and
thinking about why they like me. i wish i could
know me from the outside. i wish i could know
them from the inside.i have never felt so liked,
and most of it is due to liking. such a simple
packed the shoes into a box the
thinking about these shoes. the riches they
represent. imagine having so many shoes.
i'd like to admit it is a sin, but when i look at
them, i am always reminded of my riches.
my riches in every way, and i thank God for it.
when i look at my shoes.
maybe that is what organization
i think babs knows this. respect for objects
means respect for riches. i know it, but i am
still learning to live it. i really want to.
other stuff is packed too. the
finally framed in all its siliconeness, and the box
of spices, still waiting to be rejected by the airline.
aging in the heat, i cannot, will not, let them go.
he is waiting for them.
papers, diaries, books, and eventually
machine will be wrapped for transport. carried away
- including myself, in a large object called a jet plane.
landing by the sea in a pale blue home,
landing by the sea in a pale blue home.
these are my life. these are
trying to weed out the unimportants,
is always the most difficult task.
aUGUST 24- 97 (SUNDAY)
a year older.
thinking painfully exhausted
a long day yesterday, and a drive home
through darkness in the early morn.
leaving me tired and achy and trying
to think myself back to happiness.
who are we, really? why do we
casually this cloak society dons on us? are we lacking
so much real individual freedom that we spend
most of our lives not even questioning it?
how much of us is puppet and how much
essence-? we cannot bear even to contemplate
the reverse i think.
this may be my own forum, but
i believe i speak
for many. unable to portray ourselves as we truly
are-unable to stand for what we truly believe.
living, what was it, those quiet desparate lives...
it's like living inside a paper
you can breath, but slowly.
sure these are those 'one year
they're also those 'every bone in my body aches'
hello, my little friend. i wish
there were more than
words, but you hear my laughter, you know me.
aUGUST 22- 97 (FREEDAY)
odd dream, Bruce H with black
dreamin entertainin' dreams
little poots is laughin now.
readin bits of books
gettin to work early;
'these are the good old days'....
'feelin' stronger every day'
planning the future in my mind
feels good. takes me away.
a life; i could have, and everyday
things to do. yes, i've turned out
to be a stayed one, exactly the type
i never wanted to be. for some wise
reason, i accept this. or do i?
eventually, all the conformity
does quite a number. you find yourself wanting
things you never wanted to want. you didn't
think that one day you'd need them. this is the
system we live in, and for better or for worse,
we do best, literally survive best, living within
the confines of that system. accepting its ways,
norms, and ultimately, becoming it.
i have become conservative:
I have become netarati.
live or repent, now are my choices.
aUGUST 21- 97 (ThursDAY)
which remains in my mind,
in the distance, a figure resembling him,
getting closer until we embraced and i
began to cry.]
i'm trying to sit up straight.
i'm tired of trying.
my gut churns.
my locks are white as they surround my face,
my nose now reddened by the summer sun.
i want my dream to come true
and i want the waiting to end.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"...of the five, i have chosen the small black one.
it called out to me the most, really, and it's smallness
dispite the lack of lines - is what i prefer for the instant that is now. the mobility which i sense, and requiring something lacking pretense, quiet, slightly sullen and withdrawn.. something which will easily follow me and remain in my clutches in stormy weather. the very
British bookstore lady pleased that i found "that which
pleases you" and then described to me how her terse
verse not nearly as convoluted as her excellent speech
and the vocabulary to go along with it. so who are these
kindred spirits, these butterflies who have flitted into my
life ever so gracefully, or is it the other way round?
who has sent these caring souls to my rescue?"
august 20 - 97
last night i had the
special dream of the year:
I was in an oversized globe,
which myself and three guys from work were 'flying' through space in. Phil
had carefully plotted a course back to earth, and as we plummeted through
the darkness, watching earth approach on a tiny monitor, my main concern
was the strength of impact. For what seemed an eternity, the four of us
lay on the floor of the (otherwise empty) 'space'globe, holding on for
dear life (well I was, anyway). As we neared earth, we actually began to
slow down-and so I was becoming a little less afraid for my life. Then,
we slowed down more. Finally, we made impact. But! instead of crashing
into the ocean or on somebody's potato field, we bounced right back into
the atmoshpere! We watched earth get farther on the monitor, then we watched
it get closer again. When we hit the surface again, we bounced back out
into space again. It was like some kind of bad yoyo joke. So Phil starts
doing some calculations, and conclude that our temperature is a few degrees
out of whack, and that's what is causing the bouncing. They get to work
trying to fix it, and I begin to devise a plan to jump out next time we
this is what you call deep sleep.
august 20th. this is a dangerous date.
it means three things and still conjures
images of others. firstly it means my birthday
will arrive soon, secondly, that summer is
nearing an end. and thirdly, that summer is
nearing an end. in the old days the third thing
was that school was starting, a time i very much
looked forward to. it's a bittersweet time,
when my chest sinks and and an imaginary
smile lights my face. i guess august 20th is
pretty much my favorite date of the year.
the one i would choose to stop the world on.
the house is quiet. the dehumidifier
and the whine of the cpu fan seems loud.
there's a trickle of water in the pipes in
the wall, and focusing on all these non noises
is making my dizzy. the refrigerator starts in
unison, and now the three of them sound like
a river rushing by in the distance.
listen to yourself. the rest
water flowing which you will never stop.
it clouds your vision and makes you
believe that things are complicated.
find the balance, the point at which
you can remain concerned without
becoming involved. it's not selfish,
you like to talk.
you like people.
you like yourself.
aUGUST 19- 97 (TuesDAY)
me from you now;
What separates me from you: -IG"
i woke up with this little rif
on my mind.
at least there was something on it.
i forgot to call. i'm here, i'm here...
the web has become the pentultimate
of a world where the goal is making
easy things sound difficult. you've got
to practically learn a new language just
to know how to point and click. ridiculous,
but i bet they're happy.
i guess you could call this the summer theme.
apples from New Zealand.
the Dim light Orchestra.
gay pride and rainbow bird feeders.
my two kids and your two kids.
my pain vs. yours.
"are the stars out tonight
i don't know if it's cloudy or bright;"
i'm watching the entertainers.
i want nothing less than that.
one of them reminded me of clb
and the determination is fascinating.
the presence, the power.
i'm a bitch
august 17th 1997
I write in metaphors.
with a literary style, i want my words to
dance, to hug and warm the soul. lots of
complicated thoughts going on, why do
people complicate things? it is simple:
if it is not within your control, then there
is nothing you can do. why try. you know
the answers, the root of the problem, so
why would you try to change that? it can't
be changed. what's done is done. there is
nothing complicated about it. the sooner
everyone realizes that, the sooner they
will be able to see it as simple too. sure,
i know of the complicated, i know of the
thoughts which intertwine and depend on
one another-which go through the head
day and night until they take over-but
save these. save these for circumstances
within your control. save these for the
issues which you can fix. which you will live.
ultimately, one either writes
here or one
doesn't. it shouldn't be about telling others
what they should do, and when i don't know
what to do it's useless and when i do know
what to do then it's just literature. quite
useless - trite - and other silly things. which
is why people come and people go. grab the
attention span for a fraction of a second and
then get on with it already. the real issue, i like
to write. unfortunately this is not somewhere
where i am free to do that. ergo the metaphors,
they're natural for me, easy, but quite useless.
i read what others write, words
of wise and depth.
i sing what others sing, songs of romantic and courageous.
i feel what others feel, feelings of confused and desire.
and when i do i want to know what the difference is
and why am i so special and why are my thoughts mine.
what makes them unique? that they come from me?
not good enough. they've got to be uniquer, stronger,
louder. yet i know this is wrong. yet i want it.
a dog a mess a crumpled dress
a tepid breeze and bruised behind,
i heave i sigh
a lonely mind.
nothing good and nothing bad
a bunch of happy, bit of sad.
words that bind yet leave no trail
in my veil.
aUGUST 15- 97 (FREEDAY)
"how do i, get through the night without you"
are things complicated by
or do we make them so.
is it because we fail to see them
as other do
or because they work with more variables.
there must be a freed state for which to strive,
even if it goes against the chaos theory
and does not always appear 'natural',
simplicity must be better, it just must be.
it's just a shame to have to keep our simplicity
to yourself. it's the kind of thing you want to
share. it's easy, it's just so easy.
aUGUST 13- 97 (wednesDAY)
rainy rainy life rain falls
sunny sunny hearts call
draggy draggy don't fall
and pushy pushy-
oh yeah cartoons. remember that.
and what was
it that i forgot to say while she spoke? oh probably
about having forgotten that children leave the crusts
of their sandwhichs on the plate. when the last time
you remember even making reference to such a
phenomenon was more than 18 years ago, it's a
bizarre concept indeed. but that wasn't so important
now was it. so next time you think you've got something
important to say and you forget what it was, just forget it.
just forget it.
the little black creature that
crunches by my side
is now a curly shiny one. it moves on it's own. no
batteries no plugs. it's alive.
so am i.
aUGUST 12- 97 (TuesDAY)
What a fun dream I was having!
some sort of 'rally' had just
ended, and in the
process of returning to 'main base', everyone
began holding hands, then swaying together
then finally we were forming a huge chain of
people running around a large hall-much too
fast for some of the older ones. eventually
everyone just tumbled down on the ground.
then the children on the stage began to sing
and dance. For some reason, at this point I
awoke-but what a much better feeling than
last time, when I awoke because someone
was trying to kill me!
i don't necesarily have to do
know i can do them sometimes. i don't
have to quit writing here, i just have to
know i can.
many many peaceful thoughts are
me to sleep at night, what a change. the promise
of cooler weather always does this. plans of the
future, and now conversations with a woman who,
like many before and after her, has done exactly
what we are doing, and for similar reasons.
No great baggage associated with it, no fear of
the unknown, no solid plan. And, the outcome
was a wonderful success story of freedom,
power, and friends all across the world.
but it starts here, inside me.
"tell me all about it,
tell me 'bout the plans your makin'
and tell me one thing more before you go-
tell me how am i supposed to live without you
now that I been lovin you so long,
how am i supposed to live without you
and how am I supposed to carry on,
when all that i bin livin for is gone"
aUGUST 11- 97 (monDAY)
hello. the dim light orchestra.
by the way, how representative. and maybe i see
the world in my own way. maybe i don't see things
entirely because of my upbringing or my genes.
maybe that old X factor is still kicking around,
the spark that lights my fire still relevant to life.
i was just thinking, maybe i've got my own view
of the world. maybe everything that has influenced
me has created me. i used to know this, what made
me forget it?
certain things have changed.
aUGUST 8- 97 (FREEDAY)
to rejoin the living for a while"
aUGUST 4- 97 (TUESDAY)
brownie points in heaven
"make me a channel of
where there is hatred, let me sow your love,
where there is injury, your pardon Lord
and where there's doubt, true faith in you."
we're all going to do an about
the chilly breeze and some unknown force
are pushing me. some strength comes from
somewhere, and i heed it's call. GET UP.
sinking is easy; route of least resistance.
big yawns and lifting spirits.
who knows why.
something is clearer this morning.
who cares why?
august 3 - 97
"you gave to me,
something beautiful and i'll never give it up"
-roberta flack and Peabo Bryson, 1980
7:11 not a store just the time.
august colors staring me in the face. hopefully they will give me
energy. long needed sleep i suppose, much of my emotions are
draining me beyond compare. everyone is so spread out. no
wonder we need these plastic things. but as i am learning, they
are not good enough. spread out, spread thin, much expected
from them, perfection, always - or no, is that only mine?
what can we endure.
august 3 - 97
what she writes is important
those are the words she chooses.
what he writes important to him,
akin to what they think is important to them.
this is a very difficult thing to explain. to me,
what i am only realizing now
is a very normal thing.
one of the cliches.
on my road to a keener understanding and acceptance,
each of them thinks their way is the best. they have chosen
it, for one reason or another, and as such it is what they know
and to continue on with my imperial
if only they could all see that each other's ways
are equally beautiful, valid, and powerful to them,
then perhaps each of them would know the joy
that i seek.
and before i write anything here,
now, i must consider who's eyes
are seeing it, how they will interpret it, and how little they may think of me to think that i think such narrow thoughts. for when i say they it must be understood that i mean we, us, and essentially, ultimately, me.
but i won't let it stop me.
not now. not then, not ever.
these are not my crucial skills,
she said. i dance,
as Erin did on friday night. waif creature,
completely free, in a pale pink dress
and every molecule of creativity she mustered -
albeit so naturally, to prance, to dance,
to turn and focus on her toe,
in the living room there,
on Draper street.
when i was younger, i danced
as she did. i remember that,
the concentration of being as one with the music.
yes, i remember that.
what i want to know is why in the hell would it take me 20 years to figure this out?
august 2, 1997
cold toes and yawny head .
nothing on my agenda today, but
now yawning again i wish
i could lay down and sleep. little motivation, i watch her spin
around, and i feel lazy, unproductive, and useless, really.
why was i so tired last night at 10 pm? why didn't i get in
bed when i was?
staring at lists of dns names
i do wonder. the mishmash
between what is real and what is not is starting to evade me.
i'm really not sure anymore - - - what is the allure of what is
technological, does the plastic really help us deal with one
another? a protection i suppose, but is it more than that?
do we feel superior here? in control? are we hiding from
something or is it just a nice, cosy place to hang out. yes,
that's what i mean.
yes i am in paranoid mode. when
the java doesn't wake me,
there's a problem. i can feel my heart beating and the blood
going through my veins. deep deep breaths to stay awake.
but it's normal.
all things considered.
if my body could fly; my toes
would lift off
and my arms would guide me through the lands
o'er hill o'er house, i would look down and hold
everything i see in my arms. scooping up the
lonely, patting the forlorn, and standing tall in
front of the strongest. they needn't greet me there;
nor acknowlege my presence. we'd simply be.
we could braid our hair together
hold hands we could not see
love the ones we do not understand
we could marry.
august 2, 1997
we retreat. her down, and
i up - to our private,
separate worlds of electronicness. sometimes,
it's a beautiful thing. i've been waiting for now,
i can feel sleepy again. rest. safe.
i've been thinking...maybe
all these years
when people have looked at me funny and
not commented on what i've said,
maybe they really didn't get it...
maybe i do have scary dogs.
fears coming out in my dreams;
and images of a darker side,
more vile than evil.
how strong can perception be?
my hair is growing, it is becoming me.
i can feel it , i can hold it.
i need it. people are talking about my
blue eyes since it's grown, with the
whiteness of the summer sun lighting it.
august 1, 1997
you know, it's true, that we are in the process
of making words.
track 8 says CD Player as i try to grab a tidbit
from 3000 miles away. i'm thinking, track. track.
8-track. they had tracks those 8-tracks. physical
tracks. so now it's zeros and ones. but we still call
them tracks right. so next time you're wondering
why a tree is a tree, or why someone laughs at
you when you make up a word, remember this;
We are making words.
The process has not stopped.
the language is not frozen.
the dictionary will change,
and we will change with it.
so when someone argues with you about the
meaning of something, argue. if they think a
word isn't a word, let them know that a word
can be a word if you decide it's a word.
and with that, i'll sulter off now....
i think all of all the friends i've known;
and when i dial the telephone
hard to be sure;
sometimes i feel so insecure,
and love so distant, and obscure;
remains the cure"
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?