sleep

new

he sent me a love song in a language i barely understand...
at least, i think he did

angry rant to the universe

1.
went to the ocean this summer
to get used as the object of a revenge fantasy
(obviously i did not know this part of the plan)
a woman abandons her children, anger ensues
this much i understand
i gave my broken heart to the cause...
and while he drank himself numb
i put food in the mouths of his little ones
because tiny friends should not have to feel our grown-up pain

the other day,
his well-meaning brother blindsided me with an unsolicited call to arms
against a deadbeat mother...
i looked at the image of her face
i remembered his
i pushed away memories of small blond smiles and skinny, happy hugs
then
i thought of groceries and mountains of cider cans and violent silence
and
i declined.

i already paid at the door
i cannot save any of them
he made that clear

2.
found an interesting and cute guy on the book of faces
friend of a friend, the way these things go now
overcame my shyness (it's easier in writing)
introduced myself
he wrote back, once
(maybe i've now blown it by being too intense and curious right away, i forget this freaks people out even though it's harmless and they don't know yet how bored i'll soon be)
waited until he returned from afar to log in...

his first new friend after me?
the girl my asperger's ex dumped me for
we all live on opposite corners of the continent
same world, yes, but still too small...

sigh.

you can't make this shit up.

rum toffee craving

i simply can't stand it when people eat smelly hot dogs in enclosed public spaces

made a pact with myself to try and start noting beauty here too...
(fail)
it mostly lives in pictures i record in my head (i'm not a good enough photographer to catch stuff like the full moon reflecting all navy and white and shimmery off the metal roof of the secret tennis court building as i walk down the alley with my arms full of groceries...)

it may be too late
or vodka just makes me more hard-hearted than wine

aftertaste

tried gorgonzola for the first time today
it was okay

the rest isn't even worth talking about anymore

obsessed

chatted at a bar with a civil rights activist who sued the american government and won
picked up yet another married man
gathered an unsolicited phd invitation

"hey miss, drive you home? it's cold outside" called the pimp with the sparkle-toothed grin...

walk fast, head down, purse clutched

skirt and boots and brains like these
i should be coming home to better than this

now there is this distance

last night i went to the suburbs to eat vietnamese food with my ex and his dad

today
fill my eyes with candy
and my ears with talk of fairies

i guess i ought to walk away

admissions and confessions

infected...

surrender

i spent all afternoon trying to figure out what the time signature is for this song
i want a pair of ankle boots

beyond...

kittens and pie

mercury and venus in gemini during scorpio on a full moon

i don't know what's worse, waiting for a man to call and eventually realizing he's never going to even though he should, or having one promise to call and then ending the day disappointed

my roommate said something very astute tonight while I was waiting for the phone to ring
people don't want to be saved, they want to be witnessed saving themselves
this changes everything.

i will go to bed and try to sleep
no pondering - we're all just so tired of being sad
witness

i'd rather just read a book about it

"And it would reshape the life of that princess who had given up the world for the moon, who yearned desperately to make love stay."
- Tom Robbins

***

his mom told me she'd love to have me as a daughter
then she told me she saw his father in him,
and she told me to run

then she sat his child in my lap,
and played me this song

dismissed

i'm trying to learn this fine line between letting things go and insisting that people in my life be accountable for actions that cause me distress

unrelated, i have had this song stuck in my head for days
(turn it up)

"still fragile"

my eyes to go the dark pretty man hiding in the shadows
*blink*
he comes and sits next to me
nervous, i am clumsy and hit him with my bag
i apologize
he responds
he is not from this place
*blink*
i babble
he stands up
walks down the stairs
and onto the stage
he takes off his clothes
then he dances for me

later my friend dances with him
i watch
we smoke
we go home

pretend this is the jimmy scott version...

puncture wound in my chest

they always find their way home

unicorns

i wish he had been real
i'm done with him wishing i was someone else

theme song

backpedaling aside...
if he's allowed to flirt, i'm allowed to imagine that he means it

married men are the bane of my existence

I am an honest man
From where the palm tree grows
And before dying I want
To share the verses of my soul.

flirty little twenty-one year old decided it was a good idea to put his arms around my waist and press his body into mine while we were having a group photo taken at work today.

f.
m.
l.

"awesome but deceivingly so"

this evening while we were at the circus he told me that if i don't meet my true love this year, we can get married...in three years. maybe by then he'll be fifteen years older and straight.

the alternative pretend new prospect is all lou reed and cocteau twins...and married.

one day, some day...
at least it's not boring around here

tomorrow i will go to the funeral of a famous actress

walking backwards,
running and shouting at the top of her lungs...

last night lying in bed my breath released. i don't know how else to describe it. i have had diaphragm spasms since i was a kid...maybe last night was the first time i didn't. there was air in there. space. light, just like my yoga teacher talks about. not holding on, to what, with what? it was in that moment that i realized he was never there and now he's gone.

i'm all over the place tonight.

flash of a mad genius crush i once had. we made a movie about two little children lost in the woods but it was really the two of us found, smoking and talking about metaphysics and sensory deprivation in his fruit-fly infested workshop. accolades and awards and years later, he has a fancy new studio and a nomination for a giant prize...the stakes have increased drastically as has the apparentness (that's not a word) of his insanity and his inability to function as a social creature - a balance of tension (his words) - the line between what it is and what it never was but might have been...

my heart hasn't been in it
and now, yesterday's news
everyone needs their evil twin
i can't have mine so i brought her hers
two little shadows
water sprites, to my surprise

i took this picture last week,
trying to catch the full moon and jupiter lined up perfectly in the night sky
(i had to leave before it was done)
no matter how satisfying
i guess some things are not meant to be had
the trick is to see what you have left,
made special by what you have lost

at least i know he heard me
sorry appeared, and it helps
but it's what he doesn't say that kills me
ironic
it's his voice that stole my heart

the change of season is upon us

i like the idea that maybe this is the bonus round, not a frozen bloom

board of directors

it doesn't matter how much knowledge and self-respect and power and poetry you have
sometimes when your heart hurts
the only thing to do is go to bed

hopefully the kamikaze kitten will stop launching herself at the mirrored closet doors and i will get some sleep

voluntary psychosis

i figured it out
the reason i always date alcoholics
is because men only tell me they love me when they're drunk

fearless

(my cat, not me)
nevertheless,
i will dream him tonight

hey midnight

i'm now officially the crazy single old lady who lives alone with her cat

"our love was too intense"

"And in the grand scheme of things, you'll look back years from now and I'll just be a girl you knew in high school."
(my ode to 90210 on this special day)

sometimes it is simply better to keep things to yourself
(like the unintentionally dirty and very juvenile poem about the cocky anthropologist that just popped into my head)

sometimes i am way too clever for my own good

weiner

it's only kinda what you think
oh, the things we don't know we're repeating...

he didn't want me to write about him so i wrote to him but
he didn't like that either

break, lest anyone think this is about him
it's never about just one, for any of us

not sure who he really is
never knew
won't ever

think of spinning
think of little blond eyelashes glistening in the sun
close my own eyes and listen to him sing about shadows and light
think of ecstasy written on his face
pray that when it's time to trust the universe again
i'll know

yesterday and today i spent trying to learn to not care
then...
surround myself with allies
and shift

new life attitude, practice, presence
everything like it's the last time
when the bad things happen it might never be again
(that's hope)
and the good parts, well, they disappear too
(one day you're talking to your best friend, next thing you know it's over...how has that even happened to me more than once?)

marked by that ocean sun
now i have a tan and it makes me feel dirty
whatever, i have no pride...and pride is for the wicked, anyway

i will stop falling in love with sociopaths, i will stop falling in love with sociopaths, i will stop falling in love with sociopaths...

it is easier to breathe when you are not holding your breath (amazing, i know)

broken
silence
and dreams of roses...

this is the way the world ends
once upon

Deep, old magic of the dark,
Warrior balance of the light,
Teach that evil lies within,
Never in the day or night.

double bill

metric in my head these days
this one has a happy ending

emotional retardation

this is the raven
standing in the abyss in the brightest of sunshine
earth, water
the scent of the depths

i keep everything so i won't forget

and so i have proof i'm not crazy when it becomes a question

lost

fodder

actually, i prefer it when i have nothing to write about here in my sad little emo blog
(but i'm here now...is that meta?)

we will plant a garden

have you ever noticed i only write here when i'm sad?
(but not today)

daylight mourning

a lady in mismatched pink tie-dye
black velvet sweater wrapped around her waist
sitting, then wandering up and down the subway car
nose and lips pressed hard
into a bouquet of bright salmon roses and baby's breath
hair bleached
head hung
shoulders slumped
eyes glazed
stand and stare into space
going nowhere,
thinking of whom?

i love warm wind and the smell of fresh-cut grass

this weekend, my city turned into a police-state
i know lots of people who have seen worse, who have lived this everyday
that's why my grandparents came here, to get away from it -
it's not supposed to happen here.
there is a lesson in this about being naive and idealistic...
you get fucked.
i vote
i've tried writing letters and signing petitions...
it doesn't work.
the big bad greedy selfish men always win
my love life concurs
the only sensible plan is to avoid bringing any more small humans into this world
we'll call my failure a conscious contribution to society.
one day the planet will be happier without us here
i will pray that i'm gone before someone blows us all up
spin my hope
and hide my tears

full moon, broken heart

it's all finally done, the path is clear...

faith breakdown

a stack of symbols
mark this day...
start with a bathtub full of shit,
(stewing)
go out into the world smelling like a homeless person
(intimate knowledge)
cut off before i begin to spin my web
(under the influence)
called in for a chat
(i unload too much and no longer care)
reminded that he likes his women crazy
(play house but don't bother beyond those walls)
shattered and concealed
(the form begins to reveal itself)
less bound, double your money and run
(jealous)
i have put my faith in all the wrong places
(is this it again?)
an urge to drink, to fuck, to hide
(i had a feeling he was there)

when does the truth get trumped by fear?
always, this is my reality.

return to neutral
squish it down
no idea which way to go next
ironically, the opposite of instinct seems obvious
second guess
stall
stare
(hope)
sleep

dinosaurs

you know you're in trouble when you start reading his horoscope

it was a lifetime ago

and there's no way to know what happens tomorrow

even if we're broken

i wonder what rain feels like on bare skin in thirty degree weather...
this all feels a bit too familiar
he loved me but he didn't want me
he loves me but he doesn't want me

side notes from left field:
- favours as amends
- he thinks i'm perfect...

oh, we do have fun, don't we?
i want it to be more than just that

red herring

nine
eleven
for years i have wondered at its significance
a coincidence or two -
of giants,
of symbols
misleading me
mistreating me
missing me

epiphany, a sign...
(a silent calling that's only heard by those who see my secret self)
it is (and was)
the date when angels and unicorns meet
and my happiness begins

newsflash:
pondering on the significance of years and wondering...
he found me today...and delivered an apology i've waited my whole life to hear
it's never too late
and no one's ever really gone...we just come back different
and sometimes, healed.

wore my pink dress for nothing

it's a good good thing i kept all those doors open

sunshine limbo

danced so hard last night i lost my breath (and hurt my knee)

i wish there was a pill that could make me stop wishing

one

i know he is there
that is usually enough

was there music?

we kissed
(gum..."perfect"...handshakes)
and then we kissed again
i came home
and wished it was you

l'amour fou

by evening light on the bus platform
i saw a fat old man in a trenchcoat wailing on a harmonica...
the voice of being alone

i'm a bit slow to figure these things out
(my friends give me that look, and wait for me to catch on)
emotional affair, emotional rebound
no one even has to take their clothes off

tomorrow i will make out with a ghost in public, and we'll call it art

back to the beginning

sometimes it snows in may
sometimes it's not just all in my head
forests and futures and magic...
he sold me on hope

bridesmaid jingle

i almost got hit by a car twice today, once on my way out, and once on my way home
in between...just a friend

at least i got some work done tonight

fresh

"it's good the weirdness is behind us and all around us and not just us"

there was a man on the subway tonight playing air piano to the music on his headphones that matched the bach on mine. our songs finished at exactly the same time. i'll never know what he was listening to.

i mark last night with disappointment and relief and anticipation but the story is too much to write. a minute and a half is a long time, but it's all relative.

bloom

a note to myself more than anyone else
in the work, i am celibate

love duet

choking on hard candy
melting into the arms of a stranger
blue skies, perfect pink magnolia
perfume
luscious
she planted a tree and it's small but it blooms now
the path in is guarded by the most terrifying of beasts
but at least now i have seen with my own eyes that it still grows
perhaps it is time to go back in and plant my own...
active imagination
"human companionship is absolutely necessary"

purple pills

last night i tried to get to sleep at a decent hour
woken up by his longing...
last night i had a dream that i sat with my body squished up tight beside his
i read it all over again and i know i was never wrong
foolish, perhaps, but not wrong
i remember and dream and they're all so close but so far away
a rush and they're gone, always and over again
he loves me, he loves me not...
eyes burning and heavy i sleep

warm regards

my alien apologizes
my friend breaks my heart
and my unicorn walks off into the sunset...

talk and song from tongues of lilting grace, sounds caress my ears
but not a word i heard could i relay, the story was quite clear
- led zeppelin

false endings

yesterday
thunderstorm

today
sometimes it snows in april

lying in bed in the dark the other night i experienced the strangest sensation
i could not tell if my eyes were open or closed

impossible

i never listen to the radio anymore
last night, and again tonight,
i flipped it on to set my alarm
same song...
a song for me, about me, about us
crazy odds these days
i win the lottery of odd life events
is it ever gonna be enough?

sunset train

the search and the beloved, episode three
today: bindi heart on my bus seat
a sign yes, but where it's pointing changes continuously with our direction

watch the wind while i wait
listen to the blackbirds...

heading home,
i have a love/hate relationship with the smell of fire
thinking back,
i guess it depends what kind of mood i'm in

making up bizarre pretend conceptual art projects with one's ex can be fun
i am going to learn to dance like ian curtis

at once, twice

don't look now
flowers crushed underfoot
ghosts on my horizon

tomorrow i will let him have me
pineapples and cucumbers and sleep

and in this moment i am happy

fool

it is dangerous to fly and make fire at the same time

it's his voice that slays me

i'd post the song but that would be too easy

no need to write

there are rarely any easy answers
one accepts this when there is no choice
my desire to solve impossible problems wanes,
it is a strange and empty freedom

the sanity my life requires these days is not conducive to poetic thinking
this is my silence

soda bread

i will not get my hopes up
i will not get my hopes up
i will not get my hopes up
i will not get my hopes up
i (should) not get my hopes up

i will not get my hopes up
i will not get my hopes up
i will not get my hopes up
i will not get my hopes up...

scattered

it turns out that they all do leave their wives eventually but by the time it happens it doesn't matter anymore.

a bird pooped on my pant leg yesterday while i was talking to someone on the stairs outside my work. i always sit cross-legged on my chair, so it squished all over that too. people tell me it's good luck. it's also disgusting.

was going to go to a show with old punk rock guy tonight but i got sick. that happened the first night we went to a show at that bar too. different kind of sick, but hmmmmm. a symbol, a reminder...the singer from this band has turned into a "toothless, homeless meth addict" (borrowed words). methinks it's probably done, my affair with that world. so done, actually.

family takes my time and energy now. men are boring. the story always ends the same, even when it's all romance and intrigue and the like. shift of focus is fine. maybe i will get to garden this summer while we sell the house.

i might get a kitten in a few months. it was born yesterday. my friend will foster it until it's time (but only if it's a girl - even living with male cats is a pain).

finally, today...i say i don't care and i want it to be true but then cute smart mature nice articulate architect athlete traveller curious artistic geeky devoted funny flirty arrives at one pm to meet with me about his secret plans. after talk of art and life he leaves (half an hour instead of the five minutes it should have been later) and i check the birthdate on his registration form. only twenty-two and my future student. fml.

epiphany

i think it's possible i have stopped believing in magic.

(i'm going to try not to analyze that too much, it just felt significant enough to write down)

special

there once was an old man
(who was actually old, not just older)
who didn't like me very much
he'd pretend he didn't know me
or turn up his nose and walk away when i joined a conversation

now he is becoming senile
he has lost his empire...
necessity as the mother of connection (or something)
today he asked to be my friend on facebook
i laughed (quietly, inside)
then i obliged (of course)
politics and politeness rule when old people are involved

no more ego
no more heroes
no more questions
accept

end of the line

don't feel much like writing these days
waiting for confessions and resolutions
(plus i'm sick, have been for days)

american spirit

it doesn't matter if the work is any good
as long as the hot french man takes off his shirt
and the ticket is free...

days like today i can't tell if my tongue is in my cheek or not

but i can still see...

ode to chicago

it was fun while it lasted
(photos tomorrow when i'm feeling less sick and more patient than i am now)

damaged goods (reprise)

bummed a cigarette from some cute european techies
talked about their stay
then the stars appeared
(giant golden moon slung low in the sky over the water behind us)
the totally hot french guy invited us to follow him inside, back to where the party was starting...
at the end of the evening he grabbed my arm and looked deep into my eyes (there's a theme here lately)
a movie moment
more than worth the sacrifice of red wine on an empty stomach (reception veggies for dinner)



waiting to cross the street and two cops fully checked me out (turned heads and all)
not a bad night...

novelty / joy

Q. where were you twenty years ago when we built all of this?

A. here, actually. i was right here.

learning when to keep my mouth shut, and grateful for those who listen.

black ice

catching up
falling behind
planning a little trip...

there's still this story from the other night about a belligerent fifty-one year old "anarchist" who mistook me for a "twenty year old rich artist hipster kid."

there's so much wrong with that on so many levels...
another time

falafel full moon chaos

no time now, remind me to tell you tomorrow

pure spirit

a travelling song for david
(he's the second man in)
and also for beverley, who inspired my path
thanks to you both, wherever it is that we go...

and then, the opposite:
made a new friend tonight
small world, one of his best friends is the girl my "the one" dumped me for
fag hag suits me just fine
at least it never matters who they're fucking behind your back

come home to a mailbox full of collection notices belonging to various exes
children, losers, users, suckers, believers...the lines blur

on the plus side, i ate quince today
something to cross off my life to-do list
i'd go back for more

would you like fries with that?

i was going to make a list but this is easier
copied, covered (from back when i used to bother with tags)

sparkle snow

i couldn't decide what to write about today
felt like nothing happened
i was cranky when i woke up
(they don't love me enough)
talked on the phone to an old teacher - she was more wise and less crazy than i remembered
ate a donut for lunch
taught myself to edit video on a pc

loud annoying dude on his cell phone sat behind me on the bus
glad i resisted my headphones or i wouldn't have heard
"are you coming over soon? good. can you do me a favour? call the 700 club and ask them to pray for me. i'm having a really hard time at school. also ask them for some forgiveness..."
that last part was apparently worth repeating. don't know what he did, but probably all of us could use a dose of it so i guess no harm in asking...
(he got more quiet when he noticed my notebook and pen creep out of my bag, but proceeded to talk anyway about not knowing what's real...mental health problems and conversations about meds, they find me, they do...and what is this world where people talk about these things on their cell phones while riding the bus?!? i AM old, it's true)
cute-ish guy up front trying to catch my eye...split focus...but crazy always wins.

laundry
red pepper alfredo sauce, strawberry ice cream and expensive red wine
watched a little tv
watched a commercial targeted to my demographic about "light bladder leakage"
might as well just kill myself now
thought about how all i can think about when i walk over the big bridge is how people go there to die, who does that?
never me, too scared to even walk near the edge
we used to talk about that...what would happen if we drove our cars over a cliff?
it's time for him to come back, my call is out to the universe
just one more...
time to get over it and move on

(note to self - you can't make the final cut if you're not even at the shoot)

cancel

today on the subway i checked out a guy who was at least fifty

it snowed all day
my wardrobe was not prepared

my own medicine

i have become that person who never writes you back

also
i have come to realize that i am (mostly, likely) now only dealing in recycled men

wind tunnel

he grabbed my arm, looked into my eyes
and insisted i promise to leave him my sweater in my will
(sometimes it pays to dress like a cute little skater boy)

later he called me beautiful, handed me a gauloise
and then threw himself into the arms of another
(the good ones know better than to mistake me for a french woman when there's a real one at my side)

almost

my friend saw him at the gym the other day
he was wearing ugly trackpants but
i bet he was still hot

resist the temptation to make my same mistakes over and over and over again
i guess this is growing up

read me to sleep

good night, friend

gold

why are short bald weird asian men so sexy?

why can't men talk about their feelings?

we pondered these questions over french fries and wine

they are compelled to never grow up.

we wait (and sometimes we cry when we get tired of waiting and wondering)

going home

so many little notes i have scribbled to myself the past few days
but what really matters, i can't quite say and he simply won't

by way of flirting, he sends me a picture of the girl of his dreams
she's the opposite of me

he's here but not
keep reminding myself to live what's right now

spent valentine's evening watching bits of romantic french movies on the internet with my best
keep reminding myself that my desire for a version of a certain future is better off not working out

remembering how it goes
i already know how it ends
at least, this far...

out of sight, out of mind
it's true
more sad to see him stay now than to see him go

living with a clown

gay men make the best boyfriends
today we went to the circus to see where he works

then we had the best dinner ever

sauce byriani, mozz. fraÎche, noix de pin, fenouil grillé, cumin torréfié

the guy who delivered our wine, he was a plant whisperer too

 

culture club on the radio, dance my happy way home

buy yourself something frilly

flashback: i knew my marriage was over when i left town for a week and he wasn't dying for me to get back

nothing says quebec in the winter like rockers in tight jeans and crazy train on the radio...

 

 

over

him, them, all of it

stay up all night so i don't miss my morning train to happy

shoot

a strange quasi-revisiting of my youth
it's true you can never quite go back
paid in donuts and pretzels
trust me to find the cute anti-social lighting tech on set within the first half hour
(one must keep oneself entertained somehow on a long boring day like this)
watch my heroes work
(blurry, i forgot my glasses)
run out into reality
late, detoured, later still, detoured again
found a friend
found a cab
caught a train
waiting in the coffee shop in between
love fool on the radio
a reminder, a hello, a farewell
messages conveyed from the beyond
today i visited my future and my past, all at once and not at all
home to pack for the next train adventure
and finally,
sleepy

damaged goods

you wait and wait and wait for something but then it happens and it's not like you thought it was going to be and then you're left with what (?)

i wish i'd had the foresight to pick up red wine and ice cream this afternoon.
i wish only happiness for the people i love, even though so many of them have broken my heart.

no boys allowed

two hours of sleep
left my wallet at home
went the wrong way on the subway (fine, if it's new york, but here?!?!)
weird man sitting too close beside me, turning and staring at the side of my face and snapping his fingers like gunshots...

now it is done
i used up all my time but it's okay i just bought more

i got to work and there were cookies
me, on the lucky receiving end of a failed attempt at bribery, made by a drunken student

my young friend says there is too much angst here so from now on this blog is only about pizza and bunnies and happy sleeping all day in the spring with windows wide open and sunshine and birds a-chirping.

tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life

breakfast

perfect men are always one of three things - gay, taken, or not-actually-perfect

dzama and morning pastries, just like old times

1920 plus 1980

equals i have a crush on my hairdresser

bored

i have wicked cramps
and jealousy pain
and bigger fish to fry
than this

performance art

send me a message if you want to make out with me at the art gallery for thirty dollars an hour (three hour shifts) in march and april...

"pretty mouth and green my eyes"

This is the squalid, or moving, part of the story, and the scene changes. The people change, too. I'm still around, but from here on in, for reasons I'm not at liberty to disclose, I've disguised myself so cunningly that even the cleverest reader will fail to recognize me.
- J. D. Salinger

insert love letter here...patience required

By far the majority of the hundred and eighty-four poems are immeasurably not light- but high-hearted, and can be read by anyone, anywhere, even aloud in rather progressive orphanages on stormy nights, but I wouldn't unreservedly recommend the last thirty or thirty-five poems to any living soul who hasn't died at least twice in his lifetime, preferably slowly. My own favorites, if I have any, and I most assuredly do, are the two final poems in the collection. I don't think I'll be stepping on anybody's toes if I very simply say what they are about. The next-to-last poem is about a young married woman and mother who is plainly having what it refers to here in my old marriage manual as an extramarital love affair. Seymour doesn't describe her, but she comes into the poem just when that cornet of his is doing something extraordinarily effective, and I see her as a terribly pretty girl, moderately intelligent, immoderately unhappy, and not unlikely living a block or two away from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She comes home very late one night from a tryst—in my mind, bleary and lipstick-smeared—to find a balloon on her bedspread. Someone has simply left it there. The poet doesn't say, but it can't be anything but a large, inflated toy balloon, probably green, like Central Park in spring. The other poem, the last one in the collection, is about a young suburban widower who sits down on his patch of lawn one night, implicitly in his pajamas and robe, to look at the full moon. A bored white cat, clearly a member of his household and almost surely a former kingpin of his household, comes up to him and rolls over, and he lets her bite his left hand as he looks at the moon. This final poem, in fact, could well be of extra interest to my general reader on two quite special counts. I'd very much like to discuss them.
- J. D. Salinger

error

de niro in taxi driver may have been sexy but he was also a raging psychopath.

just so we're clear.

he showed up at my door, blushing

a gaggle of pre-teen boys running (or rather flying, down a flight of stairs) for the subway made me laugh tonight

there are people i would love to run into again, but probably won't
there's a woman with tourette's who i see on the bus almost daily
my schedule is not regular, even if hers is
today it was twice
i wish i could put those odds towards a lottery win
some travels with men that i love would be nice

"please advise"

back when i was about ten they invented music videos. there was this one that i really liked. it was about a bus.

fast forward about twelve years, to the occasion of my formal acquaintance with the drummer from this band. he is (obviously) much older than me. to be kind we'll say 'not my type.' one night our paths crossed out in the world, and he asked me out. i said no. fortunately i was engaged, unfortunately it was still mighty awkward. he remains the only man ever to ask me on a proper date.

fast forward another thirteen years, to now. he works with me, maybe even for me if i wanted to play power games. i have always tried to maintain as large a professional distance as possible. on friday, i slipped. i mentioned that he shared a birthday with my ex-husband. he promptly asked me out again after reminding me that he had done so once before. i suppose 'ex' was the fatal word. i lied and told him i was taken. he responded by telling me all about his deep feelings (read obsession) for another person who works in our neighbourhood. her job and her name are both a lot like mine...as though it were a coincidence, aligned by the stars. she is one of the most beautiful women i have ever met. i tried to end the conversation then but failed. just before i left tonight, he sent me a long diatribe about how perfect she is (beauty on the inside to match the out) and 'woe is me' what will he do? then he asked if he should hang himself.

i hear this is a pattern with him. tomorrow i will find a way to make him crawl back under his rock. then i will send him his schedule for next week.

does he really not know he never stood a chance?

i wrote this story in my head on the way to my now semi-regular punk rock booty call. it was a bit like the molly bloom speech but with no instead of yes. the poetry disappeared and we are left with just this. there's a lot of that going around these days.

seizures and creepers and roadblocks and dirt and bed. all in a day's work.

ode to the search for the beloved

i got a random message from a stranger today asking if i was the aerobics instructor from oxford that he once dated

leave anywhere for long enough and you might come back to find a forest has sprung up in your absence

i told him i had an aversion to aquarian men but in fact that's the biggest lie of all

sleeping alone / new pillow happy

i guess life is pretty funny when nice but weird old rock stars hit on you and married men wish they weren't and everyone's got the same subjects on their brains. lots of boys like to call me master now, even though it's a while before it's official.

norway

a musical genius who came half way around the world to escape his life walked into my office tonight and started to chat about life and art and where to buy a good pair of jazz shoes.

how do they find me? we all know how this ends.

at least he's from this planet .

distraction junkie

it always takes five hundred million more hours than i think it will
limbo this and limbo that
i am finally ready to leave that place

little gem

accidental discovery. my heart may be missing in action but here is my soul. it's not as bleak as they would have you believe...listen close and look at how he dances...bubbling joy, always just under the surface.

of course, it's a little off...just enough to make you wonder.

she is smiling inside, i promise.

this blog is a foil to my shiny happy side

my calves spasm while i sleep
and tendons snap over the heads of my thighs
pain in the morning, anxiety in the day, restless in the night
i freaked out today because the raven wine bottle that covers the mousetrap disappeared...
too superstitious for my own good
(which i announced to the world earlier this evening)

tiny broken necks
broken friends
hide in my cave for a little while longer
scribble notes on the walls until i find my way out
keep blue skies and birds nearby to remind me there's a brighter (other) side

red wine and greasy microwave popcorn

even the gay men were making me crazy today.
thinking twice is for pussies (and sometimes the gifted, but not on school nights).
i stole this from douglas coupland’s twitter feed. it's very funny to me right now.
i recommend baron philippe de rothschild pinot noir.
clearly, it is potent. and tasty.

faking it

sometimes people use you
and sometimes they surprise you

wetsuit

i am going to get a robot named after me

maybe tonight i will try to sleep with the light out

i want the moon

poetry and flowers and songs of broken hearts...
i have this problem with believing too much in things that don't exist

they gather, always at once
drawn to an invisible force

men hover near the phoenix
but don't get too close
lest she burst into flames

old age/false alarm

i used to love public transit because i could read for long periods of otherwise useless/wasted time in relative silence. now it's all teenagers yammering away on their cell phones about inane things like the relocation of their high school lockers. i hide my resentment under my headphones and dream of days long ago.

sometimes you know it's over in spite of signs to the contrary, but it's nice to pretend for just a little while.

he likes it when i laugh.

the death of a zombie junkie mouse

i am learning a lot this week about will and desire and survival
they are not the things i thought i would find
it is impossible to lose something you never had
but return is another story entirely
space and our relationship to it matters
people and their feelings matter
trances are fun but they make victims
vigilance, attention, care, and consistency
this is the way
there is a difference between going back to find yourself
and going back to disappear
and just when you think it's over...
sometimes,
it's not

the parting of clouds

sometimes praying
sometimes waiting
sometimes quiet
not any/more
who knows?

nothing will satisfy these cravings so i will try to sleep

reset

sometimes miracles DO happen

just a small town girl

i do like trains, midnight or otherwise

watch out, air supply is next

too many cookies

there is a jumble in my brain
randoms floating in a soup of songs from my youth
i cannot find the picture of me as princess leia from when i was a kid
i do not understand the mysteries
i do not know how any of this will go
i wish the baby blue longjohns came in a size other than extra large

copycat (not my idea, but it felt like a good one)

The sense of risk one can hear in punk is a distrust of the punk moment itself. It is the will to say everything cut with the suspicion that to say everything may be worth nothing.
- Greil Marcus

2000 - i was married. i was unhappy. i knew something was wrong with him but i couldn't put my finger on it (partly because he lied, a lot). i spent a few weeks in montreal alone, doing what i do, and loved it.

2001 - still married, unhappier still. visited my brother in vancouver in august and discovered that hydrangeas (kinda) grow on trees.

2002 - had a tiny and meaningless affair with an astrologer. split up with my husband on labour day weekend, the same weekend both my brother and my best friend went through major breakups. was booked that weekend to go into the studio to do what i do but i gave up. a man i had admired for years told me to "keep walking in light."

2003 - in late january, my (now ex-) best friend's ex called me just to chat. we fell in love that night. he was a skater, a photographer, smarter and more ocd than me. i went to ukraine with my mom to see the land from whence all my grandparents came. i finally understood myself in the context of the other people on this planet. my only uncle died in the fall, the second person in my family to suffer from dementia to the end, at least in my conscious adult lifetime.

2004 - i moved in with the love of my life. we were going to make art together. the name of our company was going to be "joint failure." i suppose the writing was on the proverbial wall. during this time i developed a passion for art theory.

2005 - i decided i wanted to be a jungian analyst but you need a masters to apply plus one of my mentors died and his family gave me all of his archives equals i applied to grad school and was accepted (even though i never did an undergrad degree because i went to art school). just after my birthday, my ex-husband called me from detox. he had just almost died from a massive drug overdose. i was terrified, and relieved. it explained years worth of things i had not been able to name or explain. soon the inevitable "how could I have missed that?" breakdown began. my "the one" decided to leave in spite or because of this. but he semi-stayed. the next year was one of the most horrible emotional traumas i have ever lived. i thought i was going to - or wanted to - die...the only time in my life i have ever truly felt this. around this time i was told there should be a ban on boys from my hometown. i did not listen. my cat died (though i think her ghost hung around for a while). school started in the fall. i distracted myself from my misery by starting a chain of affairs in the name of academic research. it began with an eccentric anthropologist who was missing his left ring finger.

2006 - i continued my affair with the anthropologist, which enabled travel to new york city in the spring and vancouver in the winter. in june i met a much older designer and photographer i had crushed on for years. i introduced myself in the guise of needing to interview him for my thesis. thus began what we would later christen the "world tour" of our affair - it began in ottawa and was followed by winnipeg and montreal in that year. very late in the year after a relapse or two, my ex-husband was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. as his friend, i pulled "wife" rank to insist that they keep him in the mental hospital long enough to find this out. for the record, our mental health care system leaves a lot to be desired.

2007 - early in the year, my own mental breakdown of sorts began. a drunken email spiraled into a slew when an imaginary creature responded to my ramblings. my head exploded with theory at school. i teased my hair (!). i fought with my prof in public. i may have even developed a crush on a student. my affair with the "old man" continued. later i would have a revelatory conversation with my brother in which we decided that studying the mind and/or outer space in any conceptual depth is a surefire way to crazy. in the summer i visited seattle and made some awesome new friends. i also smoked cigarettes at the west coast kitchen table of a rockstar. i chatted with his best friend and played with his dogs while he folded laundry and ignored me. the evil magic of facebook-instigated closure began. i re-met the skater stoner crush of my youth who was one of my first major, er, experiences. we bonded fast and hard through the electronic sharing of words that hadn't been available to us as kids. sadly, he now lives several thousand miles away and is married with children (two plus a step- then, four plus now). soon after, i began an intense relationship with one of my heroes, also a much older man, and a poet.

2008 - it turns out the poet was also an alcoholic, and had several personalities. it ended badly in the spring. my affair with the other old man continued after a brief hiatus in the name of monogamy. i was discovered on the street by a young man who is now my hair stylist. he asked me to model for him (a secret dream realized, lame as that is). in the spring my ex-true love's best friend made his move. nothing happened, but it still ended badly for all, and i have lost any faith i ever had in religious men. i presented a paper in st. john's and discovered that the east coast makes me claustrophobic. a quick jaunt to ottawa. in july i started this blog and through it i met a soul mate (i no longer believe that we have just one). two men started blogs to share their secret thoughts with me. i had an airport layover hotel liaison. i re-met another high school crush and started trying to get out of our bizarre relationship from somewhere around the second date. i can no longer stomach tom petty because of this. my mom began to disappear inside her own head.

2009 - i fell in fantasy love with my good friend's boyfriend. i fought to be released from work so that i could take a short contract in vancouver that gave me the opportunity to make a bunch of cash and gain some closure in a number of areas of my life. i met my stoner skater friend's children (but not his wife). nothing happened, but as karmic punishment i returned to a serious mouse infestation in my home. i went to new york city and spent an unexpectedly platonic weekend with the old man. i found out two months later that he is now single but didn't know how to tell me. i still do not know what to make of this (he lives in another city, there is no future to avoid). i met my blog stalker (as he is affectionately known to my friends) in central park. i travelled to california for the first time. i went out with yet another guy from high school, one i regret not having been nicer to back in the day as he has turned into a handsome, rich world traveller with a history and habits as messed up as mine. for the record, i have not been as drunk as i got that night since i was sixteen. my ex-best friend found me and forgave my transgressions. i re-found one last teenage love, the one i should have chosen when i hit that fork in the road. i sat in a crusty basement with some crusty punk rock legends. i got a cool new roommate who tolerates my neurosis with a smile. i finished writing my thesis (two and half years overdue, but done). i met an alien and we went out for drinks. i got a new office at work. i may have driven the old man away, but not the mice, who returned in the fall and have been here for the last two months.

Whatever have been thy failures hitherto, ‘be not afflicted, my child, for who shall assign to thee what thou has left undone?’
- Henry David Thoreau

there is only one (the big one) left unfound.

and i still have no cure for my insomnia.

traps and ambiguity

i haven't been reading enough lately so i'm running out of inspiration
(i'm pretty sure i've never had an original idea in my life)
a little thoreau tonight, from walden:
where i lived, and what i lived for...
maybe he's got some answers
i think i've got a mouse in my closet, at best
sleep with the lights on, always now
at least there aren't gorillas in the kitchen too

binary dates

i feel best when i wake up around two in the afternoon
can't get new year's day by u2 out of my head - that's a cliche, i suppose
more and more i am leaning towards celibacy as a means to reclaim my life
more and more there is less and less said, and to say

blue moon resolution

i will go off the pill after this package is done, and see if my body can recover from twenty years of messing with it.

hopefully this is the year when i go back to having no mice in my house. regardless, i will try to budget for a cat for my birthday. maybe the money i used to spend on pills will do it - much like people who quit smoking get to go on vacations. my cat friend will be black with a white spot or two. it will probably be a boy. his name will be wabi.

i am going to eat bread in all its many forms because i love it and who cares how big my ass and thighs get because no one is interested anyway. besides, i'll always have my cheekbones and my tiny wrists and eyes eyes eyes.

stop procrastinating - do what i say, when i say. this means not being too tired, too hungry, too sad, or too scared (see mice and cat, above).

learn to be okay with being alone. i will become free in my heart.

a mentor friend once said that i was way more awesome than i let on. according to my horoscopes of late, if i actually try, the world will come to understand this.

i will aim to become less skeptical, or to at least keep it to myself so as not to ruin things for everyone else.

i will help my mom, then myself (and my brother if he needs)...everyone else can wait for a change.

nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.
- richard r. powell