Sternum Might

One day I'm going to Jive

2011-10-19T22:35:00.003-04:00

i.

Crinolins (plural!) with everything
And
bows all the way up my limbs
And
Buttons down the centers of paths that we undo
and there find another - I want to call them Harbingers,
feeding off tiny harp pods that sprout out of the carved
palaces in the pearl-bubbling caverns of the sea

the whisker face fins of the Harbingers running over
the upgrowths
which are every string every musician ever
broke by feeling so deeply

ii.

It's not sitting in chairs like how I turn it into a disappointing
ballpoint pen, cracked plastic, chewed by who knows who

It's not stepping and standing, breathing and crying (though these are closer)
It's not turning pages and clicking and sitting in chairs again

Throw them All down the stairs! Every chair you can find. How many will fall the same. Which ones will turn and damage the sidewalls more deftly. Who will wait
at the bottom and run as they threaten, or as they stall
All these clear from your hard-hat head, face, throat

iii.

Need a straight back for Jiving, probably
Need a backbone made of buttons, cool in the night air
A face as right as rain (not a cliche to me, nor mine)
Those crinolins, I'm going to bring them back in
for, at the age of five I felt what the softest white silk
felt like in layers at my ankles, just before the t-strap of
heart-shaped shoes
but it was a rental. In my mind it had Aaron's breastplate but
in white (a hint of swans feathers in the fabric)
with marroon ribbons
And, that kind of holiness, somehow, locked In

iv.

...(not ready to finish this one yet)

what's your default mirror face?

2011-10-18T20:56:00.005-04:00

as many lines as you can get in the forehead, up brow

girls, better off not knowing how visual boys are

but it's girls in magazines made of vectors who make you pout your lips like you missed the train
when
it's just pulling up

defaulting I do to: Clarinet face, my upper lip struck tucked over a plastic licorice snip, tongue licking the reed, pre-sound, then I blur my fine cheekbones and puffer

but I bet my eyes really Pop and shine

What's the ugliest I can look?
Revealed only - by my state of mind

For it always comes down to
the thoughts behind the eyes

Wound down (like: duvet)

2011-07-07T08:37:00.007-04:00

Writing for the backs of your hands, collectively
Remember how you drew tattoos of ink on wrists, on blond-tree branches,
limbs for our tree, Fam i ly (pronounced long and somewhat ironically)… remember
in corduroy kitchens (even Outlook comma Microsoft, knows how to auto-correct
Corduroy)

Wide, black whale, wide for ravers, but not the kind that float,
The kind that knock heels into floorboards
And dance sounds, unsung, from loops of drum and bass

Wrists, unbound, like a brother
changing the oil in his black Rabbit with stripe(ing)
camouflage
recharging the battery by strangers-helpers,
calm - we were like
landed butterflies, set down
in a child’s palm

2011-06-07T22:27:00.002-04:00

And I could still draw.

Nothing had lessened it as much
as I had abused it, abandoned it.

It was a gift, and it was still mine.

And everything else was less real.

--Finn Bell (played by Ethan Hawke) in "Great Expectations"

I enjoyed this movie again. One that I have watched over and over; just as warm starts to fill in - Gulf of Florida Hot, and this movie with its hot glow, every character dressed only in green, with close shots of glistening skin, and then New York, the art world, a warehouse turned living space, Robert De Niro and how he makes you want to tremble with fear but also take the subway with him to wherever he is going. It has the intensity of emotion, said more through the music and the stares than the dialogue, but sometimes I just want to believe it all. I sink into the beautiful drawings, the Italian esthetic sense of the director.

It's Automatic

2010-12-07T16:46:00.003-05:00

struck through by metal binder shocked snaps, paper taken 'round by boards: clapboards.
What happened to clapping is contagious?
for Com-fort on public trans-port:
strangers laughing too you're my surprise butter tart in fridge who shudders and struggles

thigh-going, pant panting, toque hatting,
tongue cleaning teeth while fleshy feet smother each another in laughing panic

verbs only metaphors, pearls only fluorescent whores

writing to you: me

2010-10-29T04:39:00.005-04:00

one day I will use a big fat paintbrush to dribble words down the lines of a smudged, showered-on notebook, unfortunately lined, unfortunately learn'ed to be of unsatisfactory trees? NOh!!!
then call for a chocolate bar

school did not prepare me for this
and there's no one to tell me what to do
It's all up to WHO?

"Take a nap, sweetheart," never confirmed by a persian.
And no one ever told me I could do whatever I set my "mind to."

These are changeable times.
I don't even try to kill the house millipedes that come from the corner because I've learned that they eat spiders, and it's better to have more legs on one creature than more creatures running around on their legs.
Turn THAT into an illustration.

Sleeping to avoid them is a strategy reserved for stepmom and stepdad
and at 28 I am 4 weeks of years (a month of years) ready for a medal for trying-just-barely

bare legged and measured by only past versions of me (4: one for each year's week)
I used to shave my legs religiously

inter nets

2010-05-24T15:09:00.003-04:00

Fiendish is it for fiendfeeding in fishbowl leaning
houses of glory

They are 17 stories with a 13 marked with discounts
how unique, a 13

Dramamine! in cupboards and closets you've never seen
In lockets and pockets little shards of green

bobbin threadbare

2010-05-14T14:13:00.001-04:00

Kingly about it but I bet you have stirrup elastics in the delicate bridge of foot
next to your knobby soles of burdock wood

I'm for strings of puppeting and hands struck in clasps, dot dot dash sprinkled
and a class on income tax

Sign me up for mirror pieces placement on a world globe ancient

Joanna Newsom and me

2010-04-14T17:40:00.004-04:00

"YEAH!" Enthusiasm sprung from me at my favourite of her uncharacteristic lyrics (of a song that inspired a poem of mine also). A moment with the singer whose voice and melodies bring me to tears. You can see it too thanks to our precious modern video posters!

published on GEIST!

2010-03-29T22:18:00.002-04:00

Geist the magnificent and unique on-line glory published my entry poem "smithereens" to the Jack Pine Sonnet contest. I haven't yet won, but still is cool.
check it would yee?
http://www.geist.com/jackpine

ditch, | the poetry that matters

2010-02-27T13:41:00.002-05:00

ditchpoetry liked a couple of my poems and they have been officially published online! Do enjoy my mantras, do enjoy.

Wild Beasts

2010-02-23T17:21:00.001-05:00

our first real Toronto outing! We attended the Wild Beasts. ooh they sounded sooo good! you could just eat guacamole off their crisp spiciness. These gents voices are brooding (one is) and saccharine like a box of chocolates. gah! Wasn't very familiar with their music to begin with, but it was almost more enjoyable and unexpected that way. (thanks to Jeremie for inviting us!) Had hoped totos would be more dancey but it was full like a dryer and only a few people moved around. Celtic hillside singers (hint of Kate Bush with her literary value and range!). What a range they have! and they sing it like they mean it.

just he and me at last

2010-02-22T18:14:00.008-05:00

It's been months since we had our very own kitchen and closets and things. In 1 week we move in a bachelor with hardwood parquet (love that word) and an enormous balcony for summer parties. Here's the home elements so far:

floor-bound bed

scandinavian weirdness

saarinen table! or, rather a reproduction from the 60's

choir class stacking chairs

ink-blots and little pops of colour here and there

some monochromatic icon-style images by gerd arnst

Thinking I'd like to paint one wall in a significant colour, the rest bright white so the bed doesn't stand out so much. The wall behind the bizarre scandinavian sofa. What do you think? blue? grey? dark? light? the wall will have most of the artwork on it, the mostly monochromatic artwork on it.

chic snack and some Costco enthusiasm

2010-02-03T17:05:00.003-05:00

This here is my new favourite 4:30 snack. Steeple goat's cheese on a Mary's Organic Cracker (gluten-free, brown rice +!), then shimmy on some fig jam. It's splendid.

If I had the money I'd be at the local market thrice weekly, but as it stands - bulk food is my bud. So let's hear it for Costco! Yes, you pay a membership fee, and you have to get a picture taken that makes you (or maybe just me) look like SubCommandante Marcos, but you get 2% of what you spend back at the end of the year! For example, a large tube of goat's cheese is $7, and an enormous box of Mary's Organic crackers: $8.

un-published for publishing

2010-02-03T16:44:00.002-05:00

I've deleted most of my poems from blog as I'm trying to get them published for real - like in a book, and don't want them peeking out from the internet already self-published. So if anyone asks, don't tell them they were here before.

Rascal memoir 1

2009-12-31T18:05:00.004-05:00

I chuckled to myself yesterday thinking of how you'd say, "Where's your ball!" and how he would search. Like an earnest little person searching all around for the thing he loved! his ball! it's his and you want it! how happy this would make him, what purpose it would give him. He would wander around in all the rooms, in all the corners until he found his orange ball with the white spokes, and when he found it he would run at it with a jaunty urgency, scurry over to the requester and then drop it at your feet. Then the expectancy! The excitement in his face as you took it in your hand, threw it down the hallway and he ran off to collect it. He loved to get a running start at it.

fitting everything in the car

2009-12-31T17:03:00.004-05:00

We are moving. I love those words. We are moving to Torontoto (reminds me of Amelie, "Ber-to-to, not Ber-to-deau" - aren't the french cute).

I love the sorting and organizing and labelling - I even labelled with a typewriter this time would you believe.

But now the challenge is to fit it all in the car. In the sedan. Do you take the Balderdash and leave the perfect glasslock leftovers dish? Do you toss that large pair of wedges or the hair-straightener? - all of which I barely use - but may start to use more. And which one will really make the difference? One friend suggested turning everything into it's liquid states for efficient transportation.

Why did I buy 7 litres of dish soap? And will I regret it when I get there and run out of dish soap? If we get rid of the laundry bin we can just use dirty pillowcases for laundry keeping. Anyone have any suggestions?

getting things done

2009-10-30T12:39:00.008-04:00

Here's my everything-fits-in-my-purse lazy-procrastinators system of 'gtd' - the brilliant David Allen program.

1. list of areas of responsibility (not shown, contained as computer document). I have found this list to be one of the most beneficial creations in the gtd program. Starting with what is most important - what I most want to be true about my life - and even clarifying how much time I should be spending on what is most important totally helped me weed out my actions and ideas and projects into a more manageable and purposeful structure. Whenever I feel like I'm not succeeding or feeling fulfilled I take a look at my areas of responsibility ... from highest to lowest priority ... including "what is your reason for existing" and "what are your 1-3-5 year goals?" and realize where I'm doing things that do not contribute to these purposes. A gtd system that flows out from this high-view will succeed.

2. a small coil-bound notebook for 'next actions' organized by context. The key here is, you want the right list at the right place. I used felt pens to indicate 'my contexts' on the edges of the pages. ((mine: errands, Garren, internet, Projects (list of all current many-action tasks; or projects that may never complete), Kingdom Hall, store, waiting for & someday maybe)) Make sure to write the action starting with a verb. This is key to your brain taking as little time as possible to know what you want it to do.

3. a calendar. I like to have all my systems with me so I keep a pert moleskine (mol-a-skeen'-a). Next actions that you have a set day and or time for go right in here. You must complete them though, or they may be lost forever in the never-returned-to pages of your calendar.

***also contained in my pretty calendar: a phonebook that fits in the back flap, a couple of reference-lists on back pages, such as: best job sites, best shopping sites, thought-provoking questions heard/read during 2009

4. reference notebooks. The type of these depend on what kind of notes you need to make while you're out and about. mine are: money-related notes/budget considerations (i.e. what am I cooking this month; what garments might I buy this season), things to do at home (one of my action-list contexts that I like to keep separate from the rest), and poetry (for impromptu out-&-about poetry)

When I first started gtd I was obsessed with collecting soo many next actions, and every little thing I needed to do. After 2 years with it though, my idea-aholicism has subsided and I'm much more focused. Though, not without those obsessive diversions.

I find that it has made me so much more efficient. I now think through the productivity of my day - and what I need to do first to get something underway. It's also lead me to keep numerous reference lists on my computer, such as: ***how to spend our money (here I keep priority lists of spendings -- upcoming anniversaries to consider, etc.) ***favourite illustrations ***the best of talks ***wardrobe (what goes with what -- what I might buy) ***someday maybe projects (they never end!)

All these bits have given my life so much more control and better decision-making!

***having reference folders are also important for loose paper you need to look back at -- contained in a filing cabinet

sawing copper

2009-06-10T17:32:00.002-04:00

I finally finished (er, 2 months a go) my jewelry class assignment (er, 1 of 3)! Most people think it's a prawn, but it's supposed to be a feather; hehe. a fossilized prawn feather! which I think, the better it is, the closer it is to ugly - the more interestingly beautiful. I'm proud. so proud.

are dance parties over

2009-06-08T20:36:00.001-04:00

in your neon hair bands, your eyelashes sharpened and coiled; the trumpets, the saxaphones your ears entrapped, released in loud sound headphones. dark like the night, Night come quickly. how time skips past with your skippits and scrims in melodic dane. gain the zinx from your slint of an eye drop, daze, and widened smile in energy gilded through your ribcage. shoulders sharp like The Knife; I used to sink under but now I'm a water-treader, mind-reader, hairband stealer

dance party

2009-06-04T04:36:00.002-04:00

When I used to go visit my cousins in Manitoba we'd be hanging out the homestead of a friend snapping sunflower seeds in our teeth, sipping ginger ale and someone would play a great cd that everyone seemed to know all the lyrics to, something a little obscure but poppy- like the SuperFriendz or old Sloan; a bit of enthusiastic foot tapping would begin, the volume would turn up, singing commences, someone would start mock head-banging, another would mimic the bass chords and before you knew it people would be up dancing! Maybe this happens in other places in modern times -- but aren't you all just dying for an impromptu dance party.

We went and saw Crystal Castles last night - so danceable them. You could play their whole album and just dance, so I was sad&mad when they only played for about 40 minutes and I was just basking in 17 and shows again. Better value with their cd; it was like a $1 a minute -- jukebox would be cheaper. I understand the hollering girl was tired, but like she's necessary? the music is vast and glorious in its electronic beauty; though I admit, I could stare at her for a long time, something about dark eye-make-up with perfect pale skin & that high-school frailty.

Things and their effect on focus

2009-04-30T21:27:00.003-04:00

Would I focus more on specific things (like jewelery-making) if there weren't other things around like, even, a bookshelf worth of books, or a banjo in the closet. Am I more prone to making nothing because there is too much potential, and the choice just results in inactivity?

You know when you stay in a hotel. You've brought maybe 3 things to do or read, and that's it. There's a easiness about the simplicity (albeit, uninspiring?) of having only those 3 possible things to do.

Do people who live in minimalistic environments engage in more creative pursuits because there's less of a visual onslaught?

Should I put my books behind closed doors, and take some of the art off the walls?

the things you own end up owning you

2009-04-28T15:06:00.011-04:00

www.nataliedee.com

We didn't think we had 'that much' stuff, and then we started moving. It seems now, we have A Lot of stuff. When you remove your stuff from their cubby-holes, place them into boxes where they are not nicely categorized, nor are they necessarily protected from harm (because, well, I have a really bad attitude about packing correctly), you begin to sense the chaos of what you thought was orderly and reasonable.

The true test of your love for something comes when you have to un-load it, clean it, cram it somewhere, and haul it on your back down two flights of stairs; pull it out of the vehicle, and haul it down another flight. Should you still be thinking when you bash your elbow, 'I love you, you are useful and beautiful,' then and only then may you keep this item. If instead you are thinking, 'I would happily get rid of most of the stuff you contain just so I don't have to deal with you,' then this is the course of action you should take. Following the haul, there is the cleaning around where this barbarian lived, the dust, the wall skufs, the baseboard grime - was he really worth it?

Now, in isolated cases you may say, 'yes, that's how I got it home in the first place,' but when you multiply that by all your other so-called loved possessions, certain ones will pale. There are many things I 'like' in my home - pretty much everything, but after moving, only a few that I truly Love.

Maybe it's just that I'm such an emotional creature, or so lazy I have to have a purpose for every exertion, but I really didn't think alll that work, which was definitely our responsibility - as we acquired it all - was worth the love I feel for those possessions.

From now on, before I buy or take-in anything off the street, 'do I love it enough to wash under it, dust it weekly, carry it on my back on a hike, protect it from wear & tear, wrap it for transport, spend the time and energy & money to have it refinished when necessary... If you consider that for not just home furnishings, but for every bit and bob -- I think your materiel will narrow to a manageable few. Look at shoes, for example, do you love them enough to weather-protect them, buy matching shoe polish, brush and buff them. Remember when people used to really take care of their stuff? That's because they weren't throw-away style, they felt the responsibility of ownership, and also, they didn't have to tend to the internet, so they had time to polish the furniture.

And another thing, will someone please create a sleeping system that can be rolled-up; mattresses are the most idiotic thing to maneuver.

inter-view

2009-03-10T16:20:00.003-04:00

The first question they asked, sitting around me like an obtuse triangle at an oval table, "Where do you see yourself in 5 years." Their voices in sharp-pitched unison. "Not here" (in this room with you), I thought. My words dashed into my back right brain, the only place they couldn't see in my periphery, my eyes looked up, left, trying to conjure something. What I imagined were holy breifcases of life preservers, my rosy-cheeked husband with my hand, the verges of great (glory!) tribulation. I thought of my (prophetic?) mousepad, a dove, branch in it's mouth, it's soaring belly reflecting a burning downtown. They must have seen my eyes glaze in quietness, and after some dull "uhm;" we moved on. Four whole people in a room, door closed, and nothing.

the misuse of "nerd"

2009-02-09T15:54:00.003-05:00

Let's set this straight. No more misusing "nerd" or calling yourself a "nerd," or "this is going to sound really nerdy..."

"Nerd" indicates someone who is narrow-minded and, usually, arrogant. They have few interests beyond video-games and computers, and pride themselves on knowing more than they actually do. They don't consider the effects of their speech or actions upon others, and have barely any intuition. Often, excessive time with machinery has made them unsympathetic to the feelings of others.

Sincerity and humility clears one of nerdship.

In no way does "nerd" mean someone who has interests and likes to share those interests with others, or discuss things they have learned or read, provided their audience remains interested.

Somewhere along the way "nerd" become someone with information to share, or something to say beyond what is common and obvious; someone who reads books (gasp!), or does something besides the actions of daily survival. Let's agree to stop this misuse and let people be their authentic selves without fear of labelling!

October enthusiasm

2008-10-08T00:59:00.003-04:00

to all my rational and idealist cousins, I have a book that will make you glimmer from within! One written by the most genius of 1800s rationals, Henry David Thoreau (especially recommend the one with the Bill McKibben introduction and annotations).

Rather than slave his life away cultivating land and housing himself, plus the debts of such a life, more suited, as he says, as a coffin, as houses are often harden to unload one's self of, he writes of the glories of wigwams, the insulating power of snow, the ease with which the pioneers dug themselves cozy homes in the ground - adding rooms as they needed them (cozy, mind you, by 1850s standards), and describes his pleasingly simple life of squatting on land near the Walden Pond (near Boston, Mass.), and with a thrifty eye, assembling a little 10X15 home with his own labour (for only $12). Clothing, he says has the real purpose of keeping the heat we already have, in, and homes, to protect us from extremes of weather; why waste money on indoor living when most of life is better spent out-of-doors (especially in the case of the farmer's life). He had a couple limestones on his desk but found he had to dust them daily, so he threw them outside, for forests do not need to be dusted, why should my home need additional care? His theories are pure genius, and rather amusing considering he lived in an era when advertising signs were quaint and kind, yet they angered him a little, pulling at his coat sleeves to buy their offerings. He challenged the traditional way of thinking with wit and purpose, and his accounts of truly living simply are inspirational (and I'm only on the first chapter). Much of his motivation is moral, "...so with a hundred 'modern improvements;' there is an illusion about them; there is not always a positive advance. The devil goes on exacting compound interest to the last for his early share and numerous succeeding investments in them. Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our attention from serious things."

Every page has insights! You must read this one.

The other book I'm reading is "Don't Go the buy Hair Care Products Without Me," by Paula Begoun. I found out my "curl" hold mousse is exactly the same formula as the volumizing mousse of that particular product line, so now I can use it for volumizing too! oh, what would Thoreau think of me. Well, he'd be pleased that I took both books out from the library.

also, what would Thoreau think of the t.v. show "Pushing Daisies"? - funny and delightful in the manner of Big Fish and Amelie. It's my new favourite thing! well, aside from his book. Also, House. I think he would like House.

And, I'm doing the Master Cleanse, just like everyone else. Day 1 done and counted.

September, remember?

2008-09-09T17:45:00.001-04:00

I bought just one packet of neon post-its. Turn up the beirut of the covetable mandolin rocking chair. That rush of posibilities, the sauce of outdoor downpours, winds fleshing in, air cold steamy off a frying pan wet road. mascara settling down undereyes, under chins, scarfs; on coats, big enchanting pins. big lung rush, hands clasped, falling in love with every shade of brown again.

The War of Art by Stephen Pressfield

2008-09-04T18:14:00.004-04:00

My brother sent me this book. I read it in one evening and one lunchhour. Thanks! my self-help champion!

Everyone procrastinates. but why, when it makes us miserable? When we could be even more miserable doing what we love and fear; doing our Work. We procrastinate because we fear. "Resistance is experienced as fear; the degree of fear equates to the strength of Resistance. Therefore the more fear we feel about a specific enterpise, the more certain we can be that that enterprise is important to us and to the growth of our soul. That's why we feel so much Resistance. If it meant nothing to us, there'd be no Resistance."

Here's some of my favourites from the list of "RESISTANCE'S GREATEST HITS": 1) The pursuit of any calling in writing, painting, music, film, dance, or any creative art, however marginal or unconventional.

2) The launching of any entrepreneurial venture or enterprise, for profit or otherwise.

4) Any program of spiritual advancement.

5) Any activity whose aim is tighter abdominals.

The first chapter discuss all the ways Resistance, described almost as a Being preventing us from doing our Work. The work we Love. ((( my caution on Chapter 3 as it discusses Muses and the gods, but most can be scimmed ))) The following contradictory passage burns to the fore, "Every breath we take, every heartbeat, ...every cell comes from God and is sustained by God every second, just as every creation, invention, every bar of music or line of verse, every thought, vision, fantasy...comes from the infinite intelligence that created us and the universe in all its dimensions, out of the Void, the field of infinite potential..."

This book may just help me to develop the discipline and grit to do what I love, all 'round the clock.

apartment therapy posted my question

2008-08-16T03:19:00.004-04:00

and they said it was "good"

night time dwellers show yourselves!

2008-08-08T06:52:00.002-04:00

Every second month I would like the world to let the night time livers live productive during THEIR nice hours. Here's what I'm suggesting:

1. It's perfectly fine for me to knock at your door from 10pm - 4am. (you'll leave a light on so I know at least one is awake).

2. Work hours will be made 24hours flexible. If you want to scan documents from 12pm to 10am, no problem.

3. Grocery stores, coffee shops, roller-skating lanes will be open for the delight of the night owl.

4. Those just waking-up at 6am, heads will be shaked at them, fingers shaken. Get out of bed you lazy-head, I've been up for hours now.

5. Those really bright seasonal-affected-disorder lights will be in every store front for anyone who wants to sit by one for a good dose.

6. Day-livers will be referred to as morning-Ravens.

summer penchant(s)

2008-07-26T01:09:00.005-04:00

Drink sweet lime. Ice, swoosh sugar, glug lime juice (or ReaLime re-a-LIM-eh), smash of gin (or any clear alcohol), maybe stir. ---inspired by Darjeeling Limited.

wake unpredictably early and go outside, just to see.

Ask no questions out of habit. Only ask the questions I'm interested to know the answers to. Phrased like, "What's it like to..." or "How do you find..."

Sell all unnecessary things on kijiji or craigslist, complete with 'romantic detailed' adds.

Wear lots of one make-up type. Like eye-liner without mascara. Or only coral lipstick. Let it smear in the heat.

Play movies with the screen off.

Eat like it's a picnic. Lots of odds and sods. A teacup full of blueberries with some tiles of cheese, cold dry white wine. (enjoy the fruit while you can!) (3 peaches in a row!)

Do nothing out of guilt. Do everything out of love.

Write thank-you cards and letters on a whim -- even if they're technically overdue. Don't leave them sitting around for a month, mail 'em.

Spends lots of time in stores I will never buy anything from. Enter with curiosity. Ask those questions I've always wanted to. "How do you guys stay in business?" "Do you get annoyed with people coming in here and rarely buying anything?"

Listen to lots of books on tape.

dealing with routine; warning: possible propaganda

2008-07-18T10:38:00.002-04:00

I am a routine saboteur. A saboteur of routine. Since childhood, I have savored doing what I definitely didn't do last week. Like, if the last 2 weeks in a row I went to school, then the very going to school, even though I really liked school, is loathsome. To ensure this sabotage I would stay up until 3am making a mixtape (while still pretending, oh yeah, I'll go to school, I want to give my friend this great mixtape). In the morning, ah, glory, I won't be going to school, I'd rather weed the garden!

In life, we are taught to believe that routine is the panacea of life. The kids with perfect attendance are revered, the day-missers are suspected of rebellion. But I say, if this well-mannered, respectful kid wishes to bother his classmates for the work, stay up until 12:30 working on a flawless essay that he very well could've written in class, turns it in on time, what's wrong with that?

This sort of life couldn't have been plodded through on its variegated paths without some loving enablers. Like my mom! who understood the love of changeable time-management in her real estate work, and would let me stay home from obligations! bless her heart. Of course I would make up those obligations at another time.
Or my dear pioneer buddy Sabina, who thought nothing of not seeing me out in service on Tuesday because she knew I'd be out all day Saturday and on Sunday. People would ask, "how's Serena doing. I haven't seen her out lately," simply because they hadn't seen me out on the day they had seen me out before. "how does she get her time?" "Sabina would tell them, "she just has a different schedule." Alright, so I did struggle a bit to make it. People say, without a Routine you will be frustrated. But it seems this (at 25!) is still unbeaten, and so I say planned variegation is the way for me!

OK. So it doesn't work out as seamlessly as those with the discipline and structured-heads of Routiners. But why can't it! It's not disorder if you know how your week will flow, if in fact you plan for variegation in your days. And you are refreshed by doing something you definitely didn't do last week at this time. My struggle has always been the guilt. People expecting me to be out in the ministry on a certain day because I'm always parading as someone with a Routine (but I think they're on to me). Or, I've done the "sleeping-in of avoidance," to deal with the guilt. Or my routine-change has been viewed by me as procrastination. But keeping my chin up and my accountability meter high, seeking days for ultimate productivity, or choosing to work different days so I'm out with different people, this is joyous to me.

Is this simply a justification of failure? it's possible. But I want to try this dispersement of activities (with planning, of course), and I like to think it will work for my 'perceiver' studies. The 'j' studies I'll have to write in with pen.

Certain activities have no alternative-times of course, but the ones that do! mix it up! and love life! (if you too are inclined this way)

this is inspiring (thanks brother!)

2008-07-16T05:48:00.001-04:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-hidvElQ0xE

(bah. too tired to embed it proper. copy & paste it!)

is 'friendly' decided by culture or personality?

2008-06-19T19:30:00.004-04:00

"Swedes do not see any point in saying hello to a stranger, someone who is only passing by. As a matter of fact, for a Swede it is equally polite to remain silent. Silence allows people to relax, to be left in peace, without the burden of being spoken to. [...] Speaking as such does not offer Swedes any pleasure. In many situations, silence is percieved as much more comfortable."

I like this. What do You think? Link

Getting Things Done by David Allen

2008-04-28T16:34:00.005-04:00

when you're near a phone you should look in your "phone" context organizer section to see who to call

Your brain thinks in the 'present'. If some obligation to do something pops into your mind (teach someone so they'll live forever, wash the dishes, make a friendship bracelet), your brain instantly thinks it should be accomplishing that right now. Since you usually think of the things you have to do when it is impossible to do them (call your grandma at 3:47am), you have already caused failure in your head. This is the conclusion of Mr. Allen in this big-picture book (but sadly, not a picture book) on productivity. (I listened to it on tape at work). As your brain stores and recalls and stores again all these things you think of doing, your RAM gets all filled up with trying to keep it all in check. Without enough RAM free and clear, and your subconscious burdened down it can be really hard to focus on what you need to do. You get distracted easily, you're overwhelmed, you avoid acquaintances on the street because you just can't bear another thing to try to focus on. The solution: everytime you think of something you need to do, or research, or discuss, or plan, or syncronize, write it down! With a trustable system of collecting, organizing, reviewing, etc, you can free your subconscious mind of the burden of remembering.
However, if you realize you need to do something and it only takes 2 minutes to do it. Complete it right then (like hang up your coat, pour some wine)! It always takes more than 2 minutes to store, procrastinate, remember, procrastinate again.

The other mind-blowing concepts of this gentleman and scholar was to do knowledge-work to move an idea to it's next physical step. You like to procrastinate tasks that you haven't decided the next physical logical step to get them going. Your brain knows it, so it likes to ignore the incompletes. Like: do you taxes. If you don't sit down and establish the ACTION (ooh. see Britt's blog for a link to Action Sheets) that will move you along in the project, like get your old roommate to send your blastin' T4, then you can't move it along.

I'm really excited about these new developments because just 2days into my capturing every little responsibility, and already I feel more clear-headed, and relaxed, and responsive for my 'bilities. Even though I was a cronic list-taker it was unreliable, and organizing things in Context is key.
My "Contexts" include: Home, Service, Meetings, Phone, Internet, Work, Social Studies, Garren, Anywhere, Store, Car, Projects (require more than one Action step to complete), Future (Someday Oneday), Waiting (require something to complete).

So, as I think of what I have to do I catagorize it immediately, taking a couple moments to think of the first physical step to move it forward, and in what context I will complete it. Under Home are a zillion things I will do at home, from fixing my purple purse to watching the Blood video to finding my missing Visa, to making a neighbourhood guide for my new neighbour. They keep piling up, which would seem overwhelming, but its releasing instead. It's like rescheduling an appointment you made. You don't feel guilty, you just have to reschedule, because you're watching 30Rock, and that's on your list too.

I'll inspire with photos soon of my Systemo en progresso. (mm. makes me think of pasta)

Thanks Wade! for suggesting this one to me!

apparently, I blog with purpose

2008-04-24T04:24:00.008-04:00

An ever-so-kind lass said she liked my blog, and gave me an award! The warm-hearted Lisa Conmara of What we eat makes baking, and other delightful recipes look really easy and improvisational, like baking tea loaf with a cup of tea in it! I'm so honoured so. She's from Ireland which makes me think of Danica and Ireland.

I pass this award on to my favourites and some I found while seeking other Joanna Newsom fans -- for this helps to weed out the mediocrity.

Cucumbersome Britt knows a fine design, talks about making cool stuff, and then makes cool stuff! The things this girl can do in a corner a cupboard, and a cucumber! (a fine corner she made for herself when we lived together in our singleton days). Watch this one before she gets all famous like design*sponge and cooler.

The Munnday News Erin would like to live as a nomad (as soon as the money and the gypsy cart comes in), and I like her b.log for her interesting mind maps.

new to my intrigue:
Food is Good The daily food pictures seem whimsical to me, and so well-lit, and sometimes I laugh out loud (for real), at for example, the surprise at the end of this row

How Heavy By How Far
I like her dark imagery and introspective polaroids, and I never like poetry blogs!

walking around

2008-04-21T15:31:00.004-04:00

Laughing sudden and maniacal like fall'd coins in a porcelain sink

a long vowel'd Hello to a broom-stick skirt scowl

one day we'll conduct meetings on abandoned buses.

shrubberies icing on brick planters oozing over

The flannel-coated beggarman drinks on a bench from his flooded Pepsi can

man, you use the word "like" a lot. similies scoffed as word-whiskers, counselled rapid

cover this whole land with vats of cedar chip

2008-04-08T01:55:00.001-04:00

2008-04-07T16:47:00.003-04:00

I think I have a virus that makes everything smell disgusting to me. My tea smells vaguely like pee, that perfum smells like it has an onion armpit top-note, the burgers we ate last night have lodged in my nasal cavity and are turning back into old slimey cow. Smell has such an effect on psyche. Did I mention, I hate perfum, it has ill-will and bad intentions, at least that's how I feel about someone who is offending me with their saturation in it. The worst is perfum with McDonald's and it's coffee, and being really tired. Something else, I also hate Calgary. Why hasn't anyone written a song about that yet. I'll work on a poem with that subject. Let it all out.

Parking lot - I'm glad they let you stay big tree. Tree, please use your roots for something good already, busting up this devil pave surrounding you.
I've driven within you too long. now your wretchedness has infected my nose, my head. My saliva pastes a recipe like palenta (a food I hate)

Knock down what someone carefully crafted between their lunch break of mother's bread and pickles; throw the ceiling tiles (inspired by Spain) in the bin inspired by dover. Buy rows of brick made of rubber, staple up wherever you like, people sure do like brick from afar.
City, you are everything that is wrong in music, in minds. I long for a land, an orchestral song that loops continental, no Nickelback-landscape disappointment cringe.
Everything is grey and brown so as not to distract from the grey and brown.
do we wait for the blueprints to level down, or let us leave with a guiltless sigh, an airy brow

No one ever misses like they say. Or is it me, and my meanness that hasn't fled away

what else I hate like Calgary:
-a pencil with the lead too short Real Player that can't find my track names but it can blare ugly images I didn't ask to see
-mealy apple mis-interpretation and presumptions vigourous like a thumbtack sunk into your foot
-a bored voice speaking of enthusiasm, a bored sound anywhere I never like to hear - like a Michael Buble cover song splitting my ears
-unsaid faces almost in tears, unable to say, they're bundled up in scratchy-blanket fears, no matter what scriptures you use to tug, they turn defensive and stupidly shrug
-surprise that you've changed your mind. I'm so glad you've changed your mind, and so have I. And I'll change it yet again.
-movers from expressive spice-scented vivid lands expecting to like ugly money-city
small-talk lunches over fast-food hunger product
-obliged to go when you'd rather stay home

from before: what I made because of Blueprint

2008-04-06T04:13:00.002-04:00

They had this great idea for jewellery display and organization. I discovered a new love for pink spray paint, craft paper, glue and felt. Now all my treasures please me from here instead of the ugly crate they once mixed themselves up in.

even though there's fresh snow...

2008-03-31T15:27:00.003-04:00

it still seems like Spring. Sometimes I feel at the brink of new seasons an exciting awareness and anticipation for the next, like how you feel during the 2 weeks before summer break. You stop bringing sweaters to school and leave your textbooks behind in your locker more often; you feel more liberty, like it doesn't matter if you can't find a pencil in your bag because Jen will lend you one of hers. It's a nib that you'll have to get up and sharpen on the wall-mounted pencil sharpener in Physics class, the sharpener you've come to appreciate as the one with the firmest grip. As it's turning with easy and efficiency you ponder, does Mr. Samson tighten it himself?
And, during this semester did Mr. Samson catch on to you throwing a subtle 'p' into the middle of his name when you questioned him?

It's that time of you year when you comfortably crunch into apples on the quiet bus, and bob your head to your music more readily, because hey, you are free from criticism with only 2 weeks left, and yes, you will tie that jaunty scarf in a bow around your neck, turned to the side of course, and tell Chad that you think he should've been named Henry, it suits him better.

Strange - while thinking of a common highschool chum name all I could think of were names like Claire, Helen, Donna, Clark, Victor, Walt - as if I attended school with 19th century novelists. It took me like 5 minutes to think up the name "Jen". Why is it I can remember like 5 people's names from high school? sad. Come to think of it, it has been 8 years. Hey, that means all my cells that I had then have been replaced, not a highschool cell remains.

fine green help

2008-03-17T04:19:00.001-04:00

visiting my old toys who are staying up too late on the internet

2008-03-13T05:17:00.009-04:00

geesh it takes me back to see little tiny pink phones with their tiny little soft cord that I used to place so carefully on the receiver after my Barbie had chatted with her friend at grandma's house. Grandma had old Barbies so well preserved from the 60s.
Then that got me thinking about

playmobil

and then I gave into the yawns

"like a mist appearing for a little while"

2008-03-12T02:13:00.003-04:00

(entry adjusted because some who might not understand my sentiments, might not understand my sentiments) - but thanks be to Erin who understands!

another great magazine gets hurricaned away

2008-03-11T20:36:00.003-04:00

my most favoured Blueprint is no more. I received the message in the mail today, "unfortunately ERENA, Blueprint is no longer in print." First it was Madesimoselle, then Seventeen (that got lame), then Jane, and now Blueprint. Well, sign of the times. sign of the times. too bad you nations. Coming next: what I made because of Blueprint!

I realize I think about personality-type too much

2008-03-03T12:44:00.003-05:00

when I pass by someone's office, the door closed, the words "Gone Surfin'" printed on computer paper on the door, and I decide they must be an artisan because an N would never choose such an inappropriate font for that message; hmm, unless they're being office-ironic.

Did you know - Barack Obama is a (gasp!) Rational. Will his reign result in a closer chance at more of that "peace and Security!" not to speculate - but there hasn't been a rational in office since Kennedy.

look what we got!

2008-01-21T10:09:00.000-05:00

bunnies wave by kozydun! Thanks Wade & Candace!

for a song

2008-01-17T02:50:00.000-05:00

staring into space is never a waste. harbors bring explorers up on their banks. where hunching had begun, strong sea winds straighten backs, sharpen chins. I'm pleased with nightshirts on sofas, with books, with cogs connecting, and tongues unwinding.

it's good to stay at cheap, yet immaculate motels like the RobinHood (also nicely nostalgic)

2008-01-17T02:26:00.000-05:00

2 day soup

2007-12-03T18:19:00.000-05:00

bed can close in, a space ship, a time wrap
fueled by my turning momentum, air-locked Down

accused by dust mites with plans. possibilities
that, if I acted on everyone, would win me
a prize of Nobility, a dish full of sinks,
a crown of life
(I quiet them)
even if they tell me: call this one now.
even if they whisper: this is now. do I
p'shaw the holy spirit, do I check it's
washing label before I tuck it in

excuse. pour some hot guilt
and baste my oven subconscious

never again buy lotion

2007-12-03T17:31:00.000-05:00

Extra virgin olive oil quickly absorbs, and is sometimes the only thing that smoothes my scowering-pad finger-tips.

Saturday's paper for free

2007-11-05T14:25:00.000-05:00

it sits on the lunch counter at work on Monday morning, so I take home Saturday's globe and mail home at the end of the day, fo' free!

going out for soup and beer

2007-10-30T15:17:00.000-04:00

Garren poured a Corona (that last night's dinner guests had left behind)into a travel mug ($2 at Canadian Tire), for an evening beer walk, while I added a little water to last night's vietnamese soup, some additional veg from the fridge and microwaved it in the strofoam (this is probably carcinogenic) for my own picnic dinner. we took the bus to 17th, and read magazines at the magazine store until it closed (we didn't buy a one!).

extorting money

2007-10-30T15:03:00.000-04:00

I couldn't know that my asking husbando, "how much was the food" that we ordered from the vietnamese place, and that his response "$50" and my "yikes" would result in munificent monetary contributions from hungry 6:30 guests. how could I know?

I brought my own coffee!

2007-10-22T13:36:00.000-04:00

The "flavia" stuff they keep at work, it gives me a stomach ache so I used to buy a cup-full. Now, in the interests of saving money, I bring my french-press to work with freshly ground coffee, which Husband always grinds for me in the scrambling morning.

money savvy (or, striving to be cheap)

2007-10-19T18:50:00.000-04:00

contentment seems to be bad for poetry.
So, a new blog-purpose.

To try to remedy my spending habits (however much I justify them), and become "cheap".

Yesterday at Fair's Fair I found out I had a $40 gift-certificate on my account (I have no idea how this got there), so the illustrated guide to knitting and crochet was free! ($17) Also, I brought a pear and some cupboard chocolate with me on a walk to bridgeland so Starbucks didn't ask if I wanted anything.

2007-10-02T05:13:00.000-04:00

one more dove to stow

2007-10-02T04:40:00.001-04:00

my damsel Danica is marrying James this very weekend. I'm am as pleased as punch is pleased!

get-a-way

2007-05-25T12:26:00.000-04:00

keeping a camping chill 'til Tuesday
smooth cool feet-tops
deers attempt safe passages (of poetry) in the wide troughs of volleyball sand. beads of rain culluminate in strands on the window
heavy-handedness, light eyesight, quality control.
cool: the tops of feet
smooth: like
cows walking in single file
and the medium-sized black bear, so humble and kind, we escorted him across the street,
deers we demanded to safety, mice to scurry

we charred our insoles and soaked our floatation tubes. we accessorize

do you know? the ground is missing a carbon
clearing smooth: tarpaulin (the name of our first-born), leaving tarpaulins

a fondness left behind, a meek smile, a pretty sunrise

here's a map book so you don't have to read the newspaper

the one with the most resonance

sufjan makes being shamelessly, sincerely elated look cool

2007-02-09T17:09:00.000-05:00

find out what they're made of

2007-01-26T18:43:00.000-05:00

now my whole life is a poem on rollerskates, in slippers my toes radiate, my husband's heart resonates along my sternum plate.
If I had more money I would order a covered wagon and 2 horses. one I would name "dragon". My husband, he could name the other. We have trust like that, that he would give it a name I'd love to say.
I flick the stove on, I set the timer, because cookies, sometimes they only take 8 minutes! And I use the calligraphy set to fancy under-line, to quote those Revelation scriptures (entirely!) in script that says something.
My metaphors of open doors and vacuumed rugs, placed upon them: delivered glass milk jugs, they've become my reality, with a fancy brush stroke at that tree branch that starts new last names to practice, and blue veins to trace in my husband's wrist.
Words have all been used before. It's how you look right at them, in their eyes, how your eyes turn gentle, let them know they're just as good as the rest. They don't always need such quiet affirmation; you might challenge them instead, find out what they're made of.

2006-10-19T18:08:00.000-04:00

(sonnet) job
my dictionary at a loss,
my purple skirt without lining,
my toothpaste case:
caked and shining

quiet guess in all presumptuousness
theme and text and spent 5cents

a tumble, a tale, a sleeve without coat-tail
your miniscule timeclock,
my hauled-up cinder block

more birds for catcher

2006-08-08T18:31:00.000-04:00

pedal clarity is to the floor, the more you press,
the less
God/speed

Your house Abandoned to you (to whom?)
to the unseen Them
seeming furniture and curtains when you peer,
enter, pull the fridge (no food)
no fire for wood

And so they splinter
their catface whiskers
their tired feet: blistered
(they took up walking all over town)
(they took up shopping down the block)
-----------
Not the way to walk, it is not own-Made
---------------------------------------
This truth we pedal on our precious bicycles;
this truth we pages turn;
this truth that has infinite angles
an indefinite (of, and, for, to) discern

Eternal Praises to our Maker
Our Jehovah
Our God

something else I learned

2006-05-01T16:26:00.000-04:00

Alberta has a place called Alhambra! Just like the palace in Spain!

what I learned at work today

2006-05-01T15:51:00.000-04:00

don't attempt any Bebop & Rocksteady jokes with the Shred-It guy.

and you feel like you've been there before, 'cause you've been there before [never been here before]

2006-04-18T03:59:00.000-04:00

culminating Mondays

2006-04-03T13:04:00.000-04:00

conscience has it's place
in locking my hands
in wringing my hands
like a shoelace game,
without the shoelace

what I should do, what I
could do, What I really
wanna do,
what I really wanna say
("I can't define")

what settles in my knuckles
these words I play into them
this Earl Grey tea,
I never knew would exert
such a force over me

still afraid of this sway back
and still calm upon a saddled
horse's back
and still blaming it all on
caffeine
and still wishing rhythm
would tell me what the heck
I mean

ode to my iced Americano

2006-03-31T17:23:00.000-05:00

espresso: your long-windedness, a stream of water settling down your length. your valleys collide, dissapate, ice shall
mink within your dark might: milk I'll let dance, sashay until the night lifts away, turns a finer shade; (along the ragged seams) my thoughts doth say..

summer's comin!

2006-03-29T23:50:00.000-05:00

e.e. is good, cool and awesome

2006-01-17T19:45:00.000-05:00

somewhere i never travelled} E.E. Cummings
(poem removed because it slightly annoys me now - you know how that can be)

ice can be warm, you know

2006-01-02T21:50:00.000-05:00

Here's some I took 'down by the river'.

2005-12-10T02:12:00.001-05:00

maybe Friday

2005-11-25T15:04:00.000-05:00

Clover'd air
I'm always with the 'day'
Exonerated stepping stones
invite my thoughts to play

what kind?
you'd say
"the rhyming sort"
the eye-penetrating whisper,
the colour of peacock feathers
juxtaposed for proper measure
with greys and beige

Might I tend the unstoppable motivation
corrugate it with enchanted leisure
funnel it into bulk containers
for all Ardents to savour

2005-11-25T14:52:00.000-05:00

she by Francesco Clemente

2005-11-25T14:50:00.000-05:00

season by Francesco Clemente

2005-11-25T14:49:00.000-05:00

1 2 3, also 4

2005-11-22T15:41:00.000-05:00

smiling
symmetrical
causal plane

the silent
Governess
I profane

worn
timing belt
rough-rousing

a millisecond
eye shade
tossed in the
weathervane

water Wings

2005-11-22T15:38:00.000-05:00

the extinguishable side
is covered by a flammable
guard of discernable oil

the saucy edge
has been dipped in Neptune's ridge,
left quietly giggling to itself.
Personifying everything
along the water's edge.
Testing notions,
equating, dissipating.

Dust settles in open
drawers of laughter.

2005-11-22T13:17:00.000-05:00

heart's presumptions keep it beating
thump-thumping into ravines, curious
into alleys, getting gravel all in its red flesh
coat, bleeding itself clean
It's content to wander, or spend all day in
an armchair, reading biology manuals so
no one could know
what its dilated ventricles tell

Geological Justice

2005-11-19T01:17:00.000-05:00

another by Salvador Dali

knowing observer

2005-11-15T14:20:00.000-05:00

research on a piercing windy day
mines of grey timber falling
a liquid pool of shaken water,
a dime that your puppy's nose
shoved in the corner

peer and see remarks out the window
ashphalt cut up, houses torn open
people strewn but none asunder

you're famished from the night's vinegar
tired, not sleepy
fatigued with adrenal vim

2005-11-15T13:59:00.000-05:00

businessmen like their slippers
for cool tile floors
their briefcases to be left in the same place
their snow-shovel boots on the shelf in the garage

they'd lend you money for a little less than the bank
pour you a glass of scotch as you write the cheque

if music was under ban, they'd be fine
as long as coins can be collected in the basement
and safes get tougher and tougher to crack

Aerial view

2005-11-08T15:31:00.000-05:00

the album has become a dissapointment. Not so unique, it reminds me of Annie Lennox. A little bit lame.

uncanny

2005-11-07T15:16:00.000-05:00

Can my subconscious mind control the shuffle feature on my mp3 player? because sometimes it just seems to know.

(prompted by "blink" by Malcolm Gladwell)

2005-11-04T16:14:00.000-05:00

tap tap
morsecode
pitches, intonations
are all you need to tell

explain, we try
the unexplainable
deceiving ourselves
with such false reasonings

Only one reasoning is liable
this one we place our elbows upon
and wait for the ultimate clarity

numero two {likewise inspired by Dali painting, below}

2005-11-04T03:01:00.000-05:00

Rhythm-wept ear drum,
back and spine
and neck chills setting roots Aflight
as she star-gazed
through a lined page

Forward shoulder
palm-reached soldier lean of love

In the seaming distance
a white spark
minds within a righteous heart
Storing transfixed meaning of
a windswept soft-earred being
held aright
by gradient foliage

Rich and well-watered region
won't keep the transcendent
light from gathering glory

(Tiny feet keep spiritualies remnant
kneaded and yielding
Future day awaits on the edge of the table)

On its way up the 'scape:
a surfacing green-hued story

dance dance
to a timed illusion song
Your fingertips glimmer
your toeprints press the floorplan

Oh, Gentle encompassing solidity
keep me in tightgrip eternally

2005-10-24T14:09:00.000-04:00

How can you stay in here
playing computer solitaire
when clearly the
outside calls you out
to take its side
of the day

Had we known of indoor life
a long long time ago
would we have wanted
nighttime productive
light bulbs

or simply to sleep when
the world tells us to,
or at very least,
to sit by candlabras and
strain into the dark
corners of our minds

Every part can be false-lightened now
by a switch, a flick,
a powerline's race to the instant command

Little do they know, Most,
that darkness: mentally
overtakes their pretend immortality

blue drama

2005-10-24T13:41:00.000-04:00

desert hand splits open
perpendicular to my knuckle
red blood is the colour
I'm sometimes surprised
'cause it looks blue-ridden
and hard-pressed within

Review

2005-10-19T01:30:00.000-04:00

the end

2005-10-19T01:23:00.000-04:00

a little jammin

2005-10-19T01:19:00.000-04:00

a little business

2005-10-19T01:07:00.000-04:00

intensely examine

2005-10-19T00:48:00.000-04:00

sub sub conscience has

2005-10-18T13:47:00.000-04:00

Watch Car
unparalleled hour
ungathered mixes
of time and wishes

Corner street
park parallel
one way's climbing
A tune from the alley

"I like this resonance"
for weeks
in lost lands I'm never sure
what day it is, how long I've been

Our coffee mouths
our shoulder checks
we'll tell and float
with words unseen
you could rest
on this, my shoulder beam

Stare
foreign place that
sets me back a little
it's just when I see foreign lace
I know where the hook rests
and how long before the hope guess

My brother got married

2005-10-17T20:53:00.000-04:00

2005-10-07T12:54:00.000-04:00

Flame of Jah

2005-10-07T12:41:00.000-04:00

Readying for the wedding of my brother, and deliriously happy. So joyous that I can't concentrate on one task at once so I stumble around this maroon-carpeted hotel room, ironing a couple sections of my dress, pinning a couple rollers in, drawing a little eyeliner on another eyelid, playing songs of my Bro (old electronic, Phil Colins), typing a little, writing a little. Alas, I love variety. Along these stumblings, I read an extraordinary one: "Place me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; because love is as strong as death is, insistence on exclusive devotion is as unyielding as She'ol is. Its blazings are the blazings of a fire, the flame of Jah. Many waters themselves are not able to extinguish love, nor can rivers themselves wash it away." --The Song of Solomon 8:6,7. The prismatic love that Jehovah stores in us all, when it's drawn up like heavy waters, there's no extinguishing true flames, stoked and heightened.

packing

2005-10-04T20:33:00.000-04:00

You're still. It's the ease of the matter
Matter I don't easily latch

In the timeline: it's marked
In the pinpoint: lost
Snap. snap. my 'sundered constant
mix match, sort
stash

Lengthen my heel bones
with hammer-like knock tones

Store-bought

2005-09-29T15:24:00.000-04:00

Love never pales
if you keep on adding rouge
Summers keep on coming
self-assuming, haughty blooms

primordial

2005-09-29T15:11:00.000-04:00

Torrent torrent
valley lies
just beyond your widden'd eyes

Spears do tread
and victimize
all the words
you said would rise

Sternums tell
what you withhold
by stap'ling twenty-seven fold

Along the course
you realize
a billion thoughts
are captive (shy)