Saturday July 8, 2017
He was already cutting parts of his own face off when he asked me.
Wanted to know if he should schedule me in.
What do you want to get rid of? What skin crease have you never liked. Which part of you wasn’t enough?
I saw him through the reflection and he looked focused. He was extracting from the root.
I later told him, over a salty coffee
that I didn’t want to
give them up I said I wanted to wear them like reminders of all those times when,
hold out my hands and thank
the fucking universe that they look like my mother’s.
I held out the sparkling water for him to sip.
He had deserved it.
Saturday June 17, 2017
Phil Stutz and Barry Michels
I find myself in the afternoon
but I lose myself every morning
it’s a hunger I don’t feed much
because it will eat whatever it can
find whether I like it or not
and why do extra work
the alarm was set for early o’clock
the day sneaks past me like
it’s trying to keep something
I assume it’s time
I am sure it’s grace
in the bathroom I can
be alone with my family of
I can close the door
waste the water
light a candle
I find myself among the faces
in the shower tiles that have all
begun to look like me
Friday March 3, 2017
I can’t believe this is happening. I really, truly didn’t think I would ever live to see this day. I am touched and honoured and humbled by this moment. Truly. I am in shock. I have a lot of people I need to thank: my sister for bringing me my own clothes every week and for reading to me while I couldn’t do much else but lay there. I want to thank my brother for driving into town instead of going on his honey moon. Thank you, that was very meaningful to me and I will never forget it. I want to thank my doctors. Without you, I would still be thinking this was all in vain. I owe you much more than gratitude. Thank you for enstilling a faith in me I thought had been snuffed out. I want to thank my friends for writing to me. Your letters kept me lifted and I will respond to every last one down to the line, I can promise you that. I’m sorry, I’m just-this is inconceivable. It feels like moments ago…and also like a dream.
Tuesday February 14, 2017
from a grading rubric
On the wall that she stared at day in and day out, good lighting bad lighting, Cynthia hung a portrait of a woman with black swollen eyes and puffy cheeks. She was something of an attitude more than an appearance. She wasn’t saying anything so much as she was receiving something. Accepting something. Most days Cynthia didn’t have a reason to look at the woman and she hadn’t fully taken her in. Something about it was hard to engage with. The expression lifeless yet the most honest thing she’d ever seen. The look in her face was not sadness nor sympathy. Cynthia found it hard to look at things like that.
Saturday February 11, 2017
Vancouver Tree Book
Ellen leans back in her new office chair, trying out the arms over the head posture.
She looks around the room and notices that this exact view she has of her office now is the same one she had envisioned when she told herself that she would make it here some day. Ellen has made it and it feels good. The making it she expected. The power she half-prepared for. But the goodness that it created–the light–was unfathomable. Remarkable like staring out at the top of a mountain after climbing it for years. After years climbing a mountain that nobody thought could be done.
Friday February 10, 2017
The Edge of the World Connie May Fowler
Before Tampa and after Tampa
that’s how they categorize it now
there’s a bucket for before and one for after
a line drawn in the proverbial sand
a hope and a hazzard
Kins and Mickey layed on the couch with each other’s feet in their laps
Kins squeezed behind one of Mickey’s ankles and Mickey fought off the tears for the third time that afternoon
Thursday December 22, 2016
I never thought I’d put myself in the very box that I couldn’t for the life of me understand when I was younger. It made sense to my 9 year old brain to put my 9 year old trust in God and scripture and behaving with good intentions. It made sense for me to wake up each day and know my place, this road I was traveling, the one I had chosen wisely. And then maybe it was the lava lamp that put me over the edge. The one Pastor So And So offered up as a prize to the youth who could rally up the most sinners and bring them to Friday night service. I didn’t sign up for a church built out of bribery and attended primarily by a bunch of self-righteous teens. I wanted to find friends who wanted to know the Lord, not who wanted to make religion into an elitist club that only the truly good could be a part of. How is that the point of religion? Aren’t we all good and therefore all bad? I didn’t like giving so much of my youth to an ideology that didn’t want everyone just as we were.
Saturday December 10, 2016
From a Pathwork card
Maybe I was drinking myself into the feeling of being okay. Sort of saw it through a long hallway kind of telescope that points outward and catches the light very far away. They didn’t give out instruction manuals when I had some big questions so my etchings of trial by error are all I have left to reference. When I see light I am under the distinct impression that I need to be close to it to feel better again. Trial and error. You just find these things out when the rest of your existence bleeds so dark. Maybe I was drinking myself into the feeling of being okay. Of being fed. Of being nursed. Of being missed. I caught the light once but I didn’t know at the time how hard I really was supposed to grip. I didn’t want to hurt it. Or scare it away. I didn’t know that if I let go it would go as far back into the places I can only see with my telescope pointing far far away until it is almost gone. Unreachable, and almost gone anyway. I didn’t know that some people only get one catch. If you miss it…that’s just too bad.
Saturday December 3, 2016
from Cake Pops
It’s going in the books as one of the best fights of my life. Probably won’t have a rival. I think because being able to be so articulate while so angry is one of those white squirrel moments. They exist but they are rare. They are unicorns. Unicorns that reveal themselves to only the lucky ones in this life. I haven’t seen one yet, but that’s okay because I had this fight and I will never be the same. We laughed. We cried. We fucked. We said it all. We screamed. We got what we wanted. We saw each other. We saw our problems. We accepted them. We accepted each other. But we were both still mad and it was beautiful. Truly. No one had to cut a piece of themselves off. No one had to step onto the coals while the other one held the gasoline. We both blazed. We walked through the fire together. We blew the smoke off each other’s backs. We flew.
Thursday September 15, 2016
from an email from PTC
Couldn’t see past the glare of the sun
You were standing there dripping wet
You had just leaped out of a rainbow or something
And you were bright
and I wanted to love you.
Thought it best to keep you out of full view
I might have wanted to sculpt you better
More the shape and size that I know I would need later on
But if I couldn’t see you
I wouldn’t be able to find anything wrong
I liked your stamina
You stood there dripping colours that I had already promised myself
The ones I had proposed to
And you seemed to be smiling
I could have kept you happy in that perfect moment
I could have remembered to breathe deep and follow it into myself like the book woman said
I could have let you stand there exposed in all your offering
As a comfort to myself
And to you
Sunday September 11, 2016
From a text message
I have micro cuts on the inside of my lips from the spicy Chinese food I ate earlier. I couldn’t help myself. I was compelled. They sting a little. Mostly when I open my mouth or run my tongue along the raw bits. I meant to bring a nourishing lip balm but some days you can’t be held responsible for the minor setbacks: the micro cuts. I think to some degree we are always accepting a base amount of pain. We decide what is tolerable. What is bad but just good enough that it’s worth putting up with it. I wonder how many of my friends are smiling through the blood. Which ones, I wonder, are licking their wounds like I do.
Tuesday, July 19, 2016
from a Facebook comment
there are a lot of people holding each other tight and saying how lucky we are
how we may have wanted to leave before, but we don’t anymore
how there are places to be proud of and how nice it is that ours is one of them
that there’s love here
that there’s change here
but we have a long way to go
we are not immune to frightened decision making
we are not ahead of the charge
we are far from perfect
because geography helps, but it can’t do everything for us
we have to rise up when it hurts to do so
we have to be better than we were yesterday when it feels impossible
we have to be examples for ourselves first before anyone else will benefit
we are lucky
we are so very lucky
but luck doesn’t mean we don’t have to keep trying
for the people who have been silenced
for those who come here looking for acceptance and still find hate on their doorsteps
there is love here
but that’s only one part
Tuesday July 12, 2016 at Starbucks
from a text
I sit on the edge of my nothingness like it’s a cloud and I’m in love with it. I am cotton candy insides and I’m melting away leaving a trail of rainbow guts and tie-dyed blood. There is nothing wrong with my nothingness and for the first time in all the time there ever has been, it is peaceful instead of not. Acceptance of nothingness is a road with bumps and potholes and with poor lighting sometimes but usually free of other travelers because it’s a long one and there is enough room for everybody. There is a space now between yesterday’s pain and tomorrow’s worry and it’s all here all now- all everything I’ve been avoiding- because feelings are attached to beliefs and those things get stuck pretty hard as a system that limits me if I let it. I dangle my feet off the edge of nothingness now like it’s a dream and I’m no longer trying to catch it. No flash photography here to capture it, just smiling into the places that can be so easily filled with words words words.
Tuesday June 21, 2016 at Starbucks
Lesbian at a Bachelor Party
When I think about it
it doesn’t look good for me
old woman’s body trapped in a young woman’s skin
There’s the part where my neck pops for no reason
the part where my fingers go numb during hot yoga
the part where I bruise easy
the part where my thigh muscle…detaches?
the part where my side stitches when I run
the part where my uterus goes into contractions if I don’t drink enough water
the part where it hurts to take a deep breath for sometimes minutes
(yeah, plural, whoops)
the part where my feet get charlie horses
(is that even a thing? I don’t know anymore)
the part where my back spasms or pulls or gets thrown out
I would throw it out for good if I could
and get a new and young one, Christ.
(you know what they say: back pain is just an old soul trying to escape…)
throw in some casual IBS?
Why the fuck not
Monday June 20, 2016 at Starbucks
overheard at Starbucks
Isabel calls me from the front lawn. I can see her pacing back in forth in front of my house from the kitchen window. I watch her kick a chestnut around, her feet shuffling on what appears to be a tightrope made of dandelions. I’m not coming anymore, she says, okay? I really can’t do it this time. She doesn’t know I am watching her. My curtains are drawn just enough. Is everything okay, Iz? What’s going on? I watch my sister kick the chestnut out of reach. She would have to leave her sacred shuffling space to go get it. She stands there frozen, staring at it. Oh, yeah, I’m good! I’m great! I think my stomach is acting up. Had chocolate again last night. I couldn’t find the right wrapping paper so maybe it’s all for the best anyway.
Isabel, I tell her, I have Christmas boxes here. Do you want to use one of mine?
Monday February 22, 2016
I am having a party
putting up balloons
decorating the whole house with streamers
to celebrate the journey
to congratulate for not giving up
giving away loot bags at the end of the night
filled with moments of strength
examples of accepting imperfection
some vulnerability tossed in for good measure
I am inviting all my past selves
Like a reunion
I will tell them
DRESS CODE IN EFFECT
And they will show up
wearing their sorrys
and their lessons
on their sleeves
carrying abundance and respect
in each jean pocket
I am saying farewell to fear
Sending her off on vacation
Killing three birds with one stone
A goodbye party for that which no longer serves me
And a good excuse to celebrate
Because the hill was high
but I’ve climbed it
Wednesday February 3, 2016
Right Hand Man
Kenny carries his wife’s handbag around the house when no one is home. He loves the way it looks. It elevates so many of his outfits. He doesn’t feel ashamed but he doesn’t want to tell anyone. No. Scratch that: he does feel ashamed and is dying to tell someone. Melanie might wonder if he had other things he was hiding from her, but Kenny could promise her without lying that he just thinks he should be able to wear it without any labels attached. Kenny has had this conversation with Melanie inside his head before. It can only go one of two ways. The first being “I wonder what you’d think if I chose to do this.” “I’m totally cool with it because it doesn’t mean you are any less you.” OR…”I have this thing I like to do.” “I cannot be with someone who does what they do without putting all their things into neatly organized boxes.” Kenny believes it’d be the former, but he doesn’t know for sure.
Thursday November 26, 2015
from the specials board at Our Town Cafe
Dear guy from the Turkish market buying one kilo of sun-dried tomatoes while wearing a safety vest,
You may have just stolen my heart, permanently, and I’m okay with that.
See I was looking for someone new to give it to, after I got it back from the guy I lent it to without knowing. I was tricked into telling him things about me and letting him see a version of me that most people don’t want to see, or shouldn’t see, or…Oh…now I wish I hasn’t mentioned that part at all cause it’s a bit embarrassing…..
Umm….If I hadn’t written this in pen, I would have erased the aforementioned weirdness but because I hate the way stuff looks scratched out, I will leave it in hopes that you don’t actually mind a little oversharing every now and again.
Back to the important matters at hand, guy wearing a safety vest.
I love sun-dried tomatoes so much and to see you buying them in such a large quantity is incredibly heartening. I can only begin to imagine what you’re planning to do with so many beautiful tomatoes. My biggest fear is that your wife or girlfriend or mother sent you here to buy them for the big party you’re announcing your future plans with a woman other than me at.
I wish I could erase that part too.
Tuesday November 17,2015
from an e-mail
Went to church when I was younger I guess, so I have this really big soft spot for budding Christians. Not the full blown ones, I have no room for those. But the ones who are starting to feel community and straight-edged living are the ones I see myself in. So many of my beliefs were centered around permission and guilt and acceptance and guilt and lying and begging and praying and guilt. Like I was sand being shaken back and forth in an hourglass. Always trying not to be wrong. Always trying to right the wrong. Always being wrong. Always feeling bad for being wrong. But there in the community where we’d raise our hands to the Lord and sway them back and forth while our eyes were closed and our hearts exploded, we felt like pieces cut out of the same felt, glued onto bristol board to form a perfect circle; the poster kids for The Lost.
Tuesday October 27, 2015 at Liberty Bakery
the Iphone internet connection message
It served as a perfect reminder that we’re fallible. I guess you’re gonna want to know what the perfect reminder was, but it’s not time to share that information yet. All you need to know is that we need reminders that we’re fallible because we get ahead of ourselves all the time. We do. We get angry for not achieving something right away or the right way, and we beat ourselves up for not being successful. But we’re not perfect. We need to hear that on a regular basis. We need to hear it, believe it, then put it to some psychedelic music and listen to it while we’re in the shower: let it seep into our skin ike the smell of garlic trapped in our finger tips after a night of vampire avoiding, or casesar salad dressing making, or influenza preventing. We need to know it like we know our own names so when we’re called it, we don’t act like we don’t recognize it; we open the door and let it in.
Saturday, April 25, 2015
From a receipt from The North Face
I came in a box with a manual and a number for an information hotline. Everybody was anxious to use me. To see what I could do. To figure out my functionality, my abilities, my strengths. No one anticipated I’d be difficult to understand. There were pictures and diagrams, step by step instructions and video guides. There was a lot of hype about my arrival and people got cocky. They thought they would all be able to follow the directions and handle me as intended as a highly user-friendly model. All of these expectations were real. But so was I and nobody was quite ready for that part. Nobody was ready for my opinions, my point of view, my perceptions of the world, my critique. They had waited for a presence that would exist like them but not make change. They wanted something in their image but void of their flaws. My maker was a genius. She was smart and designed me perfectly. She included exactly what she should have. But the collective human weakness is greater than the solution to it. Unfortunately for me.
Friday, April 24, 2015
from a Facebook post
I said May 1st and I said that to myself, my boyfriend, my therapist, and my roommate’s dog. I told so many people I was waiting for May 1st it felt like I had to uphold the expectation. I have never been good at starting something in the middle of the month, or the week, or basically any time that doesn’t fall on the very first day of something. Usually months. I’m great at starting things at the beginnings of months. So I made a list, with lots of columns and categories. I wanted to be able to check things off and keep on task from that moment forward. No more waiting for the next month. It would have to be this beginning and not the one after. Some of the things on there were: Start Exercising Daily (as of May 1st), Try to call my mom once a week, Ask for help (starting May 1st), Stop Apologizing for my opinions, Refrain from buying dollar store chocolate, Stop waiting for the new month to get my life together, Work on false promises (even in list format), Eat more apples, No more feeling sorry for myself.
Wednesday April 22, 2015
from an e-mail
This one is a nod to three old friends from a former existence who found each other again in this current one. Their souls were already promised to one another and they were happiest then when they loved each other without question. There is a story about a hotel room and sharing beds and drugs and jokes and chips. It’s a good story. It started with a road trip and it ended with truck stop ice cream. In the middle there was a lot of laughter and unexpected ease. In the middle middle there was a promise wedged in that this would be how it is. When these three old friends met in a different dimension, they exchanged a round of flat stones they found in the ocean that represented loyalty and acceptance and longevity. There was a grand speech made in that different lifetime that would inspire their strength in this one.
Monday, April 20, 2015
from the Cultch Season Announcement
Mallory was listening to Sarah Harmer on repeat. She had this one song on the go that she just couldn’t stop playing. She may have had it on her New Year’s playlist for 2009 and it may have reminded her of her first love, Sean, though he probably didn’t even know who Sarah Harmer was. Sean was only slightly taller than Mallory and for the first time in her life she didn’t care that he wasn’t over 6 feet. She would have accepted anything about Sean because he had this cute way of swaying back and forth to a hidden track in his head. He was goofy and he was sweet, and he respected women because he had 4 sisters. He also moved away when things got real for them. Not just once, but twice. Mallory thought he’d come back just like the first time, but he didn’t. He wanted a simpler life. Not one that required breaking one’s heart open again and again.
Wednesday, April 14, 2015
I’ve made a list of all the people who will be no longer invited to my existence. I’ve made up this list cause I’ve made up my mind. There is no more room for assholes. This is my new life motto. My new life motto for my new life. No More Room For Assholes. Now I understand that these people sometimes wear masks so you think they’re smiling and supporting you and loving you with their fake fake hearts. They’re good at what they do because they spend all their time being this way to avoid spending any time trying to be happy. Truly happy. Truly happy and helpful and honest with what those things mean. The list is small but it’s there. I don’t need to carry it around with me in my wallet like a proof of identity. I can just feel it in my skin that they’re not welcome anymore. That they don’t make me happy because they love their own misery. I don’t know when this started. It’s as if the ‘live life to the fullest’ alarm went off and I finally stopped pressing snooze…
Monday March 16, 2015
In the window fog she traced his name with her pointer finger and drew a heart around it. Finding herself rereading the same last paragraph of his letter over and over again, she knew she wasn’t going to rid herself of his memory with any ease at all. She stopped herself for an instant, glanced out into the passing world outside her moving train, and came back into the present moment. She had been talking about him as if he had not only left her, but left this earth all together. Then, a tiny ember of hope flickered inside her. He wasn’t even gone, just away. Just away from her. His final words to her,the ones she’d been revisiting each time without effort, were suddenly so clear to her: “In time we fade and in time we’re built anew.”
Thursday March 5, 2015
The Fig Tree
“I’m ready for something bigger.” I took a deep gulp of air and I said that to myself. I did. I was, in that moment, feeling very existential. I wanted to know things about myself. I realized I wanted to enjoy my own abilities instead of waiting, forever waiting, for someone else to tell me that they enjoy them. “How is that living?” I exhaled and I said that to myself. “How is it?” If I might, I’d like to paint the scene for you so perhaps you’d see how silly it is too.
You wake up, you dread enjoying your own gifts because you’re afraid someone else might disagree with you or have an opinion about what you’ve made. You make a bowl of quick oats and banana, and you tell yourself internally how bad you are for wanting to spend time doing the things that bring you joy and amusement and pleasure. You clean the dishes and you imagine a world where there is applause for you, but you see it as its own entity and not attached to the doing. Then you put on your jeans and you notice that you don’t ever see the part where you’re actually enjoying your own ability. You can’t envision the perfect happiness that comes from simply doing that thing, and you can’t fathom for even a split second what the feeling of truly expressing and connecting would mean for you.
So you throw on your winter scarf and head out of the house to once again avoid doing what you know your heart bleeds for.
Bizarre, isn’t it?
Monday February 23, 2015
I’ll be there when you need somebody
Hold you close when your heart’s been hiding
I will tell you what is inside my bones
Until you feel safe again again
I’ll be near when your strength is over
Pick up the pieces of your broken soul
I will sing to you until you sleep easy
But what do I do when you don’t come to me
Can I sit alone and wait for peace to be
You don’t always want something that you can see
You think you’ve got it covered
But that’s when I believe
You need me
I’ll reach out even when it’s lonely
On the edge of me waiting hoping
I will stay here all night if I have to
Do it again the next until you feel moved to
let it go and build a home again again
Don’t worry I won’t give up
Don’t worry I won’t let it hurt you anymore
Thursday February 12, 2015
a storefront window on Dupont St.
Titus hopes for the days that Louise stops screaming in her sleep.
He wakes up every time and tries to hold her without touching her because usually touching her just makes it worse.
He breathes calmly, affecting her breath.
She breathes calmly, taking on his patterns.
Shhh, he kisses the air around her scrunched face.
Shhh, she exhales after holding it in for too long.
Louise sees the visions right before she falls asleep.
The close up shots of a butcher’s bloody hand chopping hunks of raw lamb flesh.
The bees that sting the inside of her eyes until she’s panicked again.
Titus caresses her face softly to soothe her.
He does this sometimes for hours.
His touch is gentle and cool on her hot cheeks.
Tuesday October 28, 2014
from the side of a tper bus
He entered a room filled with mirrors. The instructions said he must look within before he could exit the game. He knew how this worked. A hundred minutes ripping apart all his flaws just to realize he was fine all along and didn’t need to inflict any self harm to find that out. So instead he tried to see what features he liked about himself; starting with the outside to make it easier when he got to the inside.
Decent enough eye shape. Not an almond. But almost. Long eyelashes-like a fawn, or a prostitute. Standard cheekbones (thankfully). One big bottom lip and one almost normal looking top lip. Straight teeth. Really straight. Should smile more. Will note that.
Wednesday August 27, 2014
The Georgia Straight
Of course he’s standing beside me on my wedding day. He’s the best man I know besides the man I’m marrying so why wouldn’t I have him? I’m not going to make him wear a dress, that’s so stupid. He’s going to look sharp in his suit and he’s going to only take attention away from me for a little bit at the start of the day because he knows how to rock a suit better than anyone else will in that entire room. I’ve known him since I switched personalities. I was one person before we met and then when I found him, I shook his hand and accepted the deal that I would be this person now. I was always this person just now I’d be her all the time and out loud and acceptance and love and tenderness for her or whatever. He enforced my soul with his and we danced a bit, probably to Mariah, or Ciara-hips out, sweat dripping.
Tuesday August 12, 2014
a quote from Robin Williams
He said it matter-of-factly as he gripped his miniature hand over my closed fist. This was a gift from a tiny god and I was being entrusted with it. He made sure I was looking him in the eyes when I promised him I would keep it safe. And never give it to any one else? Of course not. And never drop it on the ground that doesn’t have carpet? Never ever. And never forget where you last put it? Not on my life. And with that he scampered off getting distracted by the grass that he in that moment just had to bend down to dig up. I watched him playing in the earth with my fist still tightly closed. The magic of this gift was fuelling me from my hands and seeping into my bones trough my troubled skin. He didn’t even say what it was. I suppose he didn’t have to. I had believed in the importance of it by virtue of his stern instructions. He didn’t make me promise not to open it until he was gone. I didn’t have to open it to know that it was ours.
Thursday April 23, 2014
Locked In To Life
Keep pushing, keep moving, keep trying trying trying.
Don’t believe you’re stupid. Don’t believe that because nobody believes that and you don’t want to give them any new ideas about it.
Yeah, it’s hard.
And yeah there will be lots of crying.
(With you, there’s always lots of crying. Get used to it.)
And there will be lots of laughing.
(With you, there’s always more laughing than crying. See?)
But there will be no regrets.
You don’t have time for those.
You don’t even have enough time to call your mother.
Or send that postcard to your boyfriend.
Or apologize to your inner person for being so damn-self-deprecating on a daily basis.
You don’t have time for that stuff.
So you most certainly do not have time to wish you did it differently.
The universe can be cruel.
I know that. You know that. Everybody knows that.
But it can also be kind.
So be a little nicer.
Be a little less quick to place the blame.
Be a little less okay with believing you’re mediocre.
Even when you forget how to spell “Disappointment” without an electronic device correcting you.
And even when you convince yourself you can’t do simple math in your head when trying to tip the server.
Be a little more confident.
Because you’re here.
Because you’ve made it this far and because if you didn’t want to be alive, you just wouldn’t be.
Tuesday April 15, 2014
A post on Instagram
Mama liked it when her drinks tasted like Italy. It reminded her of home, of her mother, of her doggie, Stella, and her doll-friend, Cicio Bello. When mama took a sip, she’d slip, then slide, then land back in a time where farm animals woke her up each morning, and where Figs grew as big as your face in September.
She stocked up on the stuff just in case they ever decided to stop making it. Not that anyone would, it was a beautiful thing. But just in case, she always said, just in case.
We knew she could say whatever she wanted and we’d never say a thing in return to her about it. We didn’t want Mama to feel like she had a problem. We didn’t want anyone to think she couldn’t handle it on her own, just the way she wanted to. Nobody mentioned a thing when we’d find bottles of her nostalgia hidden under the sofa cushions, or planted deep in the soil of her dying rosemary bush. Nobody said anything when Cicio Bello started appearing again in Mama’s life, her old friend whispering things to her no one else could hear; keeping her company through the storm.
Wednesday February 12, 2014
the bag of ketchup chips
You crave to be in the middle
in the spotlight
in the memory of many
in the hearts of many more
you crave to be in the centre
in the moonlight
in the laughs of many
in the arms of many more
you get what you want, that’s a fact
you ask the universe if it does complimentary gift wrapping
you want to untie the bow on all your presents from the anniversary party
of your dreams and reality meeting at the park and kissing on the mouth
you get what you want, that’s a fact
you crave to be in the photographs
in the perfect moments
in the history in the making
you crave to be in the love letters
in the words of many
in the nightside table drawers of many more
you crave it all
and you get it all
you’ve charmed the world with your wit and your generosity
and you knew that was all you ever really wanted
Tuesday November 26, 2013
The front of the bill from Rogers
A little misdirection, a little action. Yeah. Yeah. Grant me the serenity to…yeah. yeah. When did it become so hard? To hardly exist. To hardly be anything but a regret. A little redirection, a little reaction. Yeah. Yeah. On this day you will be alive and…yeah. yeah. Where did all the pretty colours go? To blend in with the nothingness and be the fear it tried to avoid. A little direction, a little inaction. Yeah. Yeah. Peace before pieces before peace…yeah. yeah. Why must I be without the essentials 98% of the time? To fall on my knees with the wind’s whisper in my ear telling me to land softly, or else. A little redirection please, a little action? Yeah? Yeah. A little yeah. Yeah. A little.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
I’m glad I am I’m glad I am
gummy bear reservoir
hidden nutella in the top cupboard
I’m not hiding anything
it’s in there if you’re looking
you hide your journals in plain view because I can’t-won’t-can’t read a single word you write
I couldn’t do that
I’m hopeful someone some day will find me in mine and never need to ask me what that shape is, or is that one words or two
I’m glad I am
you’d know that if you read me
stale bread so I wouldn’t feel guilty
stolen from the birds who were looking forward to an early morning snack
you don’t know it’s there either
should have mentioned it
you’ll eat a Hungryman dinner while staring at the fridge filled with new organic vegetables
and you’ll maintain there’s nothing to eat
the 1kg bag
who had the idea first, to pick them up and pretend it’s genius
you or me?
might have been me
I’m glad it was then
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Edgar Allan poe
if you thought you couldn’t find your way, you might have convinced yourself to never look, to never learn to read a compass.
you instead know two things about yourself: one, the only time you ever cry is when you have been made to feel embarrassed, and two, the first thing that pops into your head always makes you laugh. you don’t necessarily feel like you’re capable of being anything but those two things, and even when you can sense the self-deprecation in your own inadequacy, you somehow can’t quite get over that it’s absolutely true. now someone told you once that you were fine just the way you were and if people didn’t see that then it was their problem. but one of them had someone tell them that they were fine just the way they were, and then shitty just becomes relative. good becomes relative. and you are lower than your potential because you believed it when you heard it, and you didn’t know how to change it.
Friday , August 16, 2013
overheard at the metro
She was sitting with her legs up, just barely touching the table. She was trying to make a point about how she didn’t need to be big to feel at ease with the big guys. A lot of them were busy rolling their own tobacco and laughing about Sweeny who allegedly turned in early because he thought he had “food poisoning”. She was hoping they wouldn’t make such a big deal about her being there, knowing full well she’d have to fight even harder just to break free of their expectations. She was waiting for her turn with the tobacco. Her father used to roll so she knew what she was doing. She was just waiting for her chance to show them she was more than just a well dressed and manicured woman. They didn’t say anything, but she knew they were thinking it. She could see it in their eyes every time they spent a little too long looking at her skirt, and her shoes.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
from a business card
Always liked my arms. Never had a problem with them. Never felt like they were disproportionate. Thought about getting liposuction once (Who doesn’t), and then realized that I just don’t care enough about that stuff. Never had a problem with my hands until a stupid boy named Brendan with bleach-blonde surfer hair told me they were too big for my body. I was 14 (fuck you Brendan). Thought my feet were okay. Not too big, not too small. Just right. one of my toes is ridiculously too tiny but do people care about toes these days? Thought if people were playing the game where they deconstruct themselves, then build the ideal human with all the best parts from them and their friends, at least two or three of my features would make the cut. Not my hair. Too scraggly in the wintertime. (Not my lips either.) Some friends would make it on for everything. They had better shaped eyes or noses or something. But if we were playing the game where we deconstruct all our skills and build the ideal human with those? I’d be up there for sure. Nobody can video blog like me. I even put it on my resume and business cards.