jack

2011-03-28T23:43:00.002-04:00

something there maybe god down there way deep inside making me move think stand sit but no other explanation honored here no more acronyms or techniques no gurus on the stairs phantom pedestals floating by falling by... the wayside wayward plunge a dark place a cool cave somewhere there with love and with trust and with an overwhelming curiosity waits the perfect storm the nuclear core way down or up in the pit way up in the ditch up in the puddles floats the heartbeat of mine art in hope despairs the instinct whole the instinct wholly and holy both but completely incomplete a perfect almost a definite word posted with the most concentrated effort made to love and to trust and hope... it's the instinct you see... i can't explain where it came from or comes from but there's certainly something there maybe god down there way deep inside making me move think stand sit but no other explanation honored here no more acronyms please no more techniques please no more gurus on the stairs no phantom pedestals no floating no falling no by no way no side no plunge without the instinct no art without the instinct no curiosity no trust love curious hope there it's born there it grows there it learns and becomes a grows and becomes and slows and becomes and slows comes and slower and comes and slower and stops and stops and stops and stops and stops then dies and dies then dies and dies then no more but instinct no more but instinct.

forever

2011-03-15T00:37:00.002-04:00

there forever there never ending there until the end is there right there always hanging there over there up there always there never there was there went there been there gone there only there just there simply there forever there

tombday

2011-03-15T00:30:00.003-04:00

tomorrow has arrived the cadence the percussion of time and of days and winds and mine eyes and hand grenade blues sprawling across the dream-scapes the daydreamy scape scrapers of tomorrow holding hands out exalting arms raised high knees sink to earth mud crawling up thighs sinking the certainty of tomorrow sinking in that gruesome uncertainty of today...

2009-03-15T06:16:00.003-04:00

steel shades sticky lashes hovering above pupil filled eyes where's the white can't avoid the eyes where's the white something else to look at to stare at anything to gaze to ponder to reflect to recall to ponder anything but the deep black pits of those forlorn blackened deep pit eyes and without a second passed slipping out from the lungs like air oozing from the mad dash crash of vocal chord friction comes grinding from the deep hollows within the apology...

i confess contend with my back upright and elbows back that i profess to suggest for the slimmest of minutes the most miniscule of moments practically particular and with particle points and many specks of dust-like time crashing on the stones that mark my path i will confess this confession that i do indeed like many others from time to time from minute to minute or second to lifetime i do digest the desire to retire to suggestions to confessions and as such i desire like you do too to digress and digress over and over and again and again until the very digression which marks my stones becomes the confession the suggestion the profession and obsession that gives birth to the shadows that flutter against my concrete mind those same ones fluttering with you offering to you uncompromising promises and all the joys of gold that come with tomorrow.

so it was

2007-07-17T01:21:00.000-04:00

those big old ocean eyes drawing to a close sigh heavily but lips stationary frozen timeposts mark those hands so big so strong resting on flimsy knees and pulsing so calm still no movement unless necessary so calm still no words unless necessary and back those eyes those blue antiques dust collectors still straining struggling suinting to remember those days the old ones when everything was... so it was always was until the end of time breathing in breathing out until no more

still

2007-06-27T19:34:00.002-04:00

eating popcorn out of the palm of my hand without using any fingers is boring when you're not here playing brickbreaker on my laptop is boring when you're not beside me drinking a cup of tea in the morning even though it's summer and probably too hot anyway isn't the same when you're not here falling asleep and pretending that your pillow is really your arm or your shoulder gets boring after awhile making animal sounds to myself as i walk down the street instead making them to you makes people think that i'm just another st.catharines quackety quack quack having every day feel like a friday is a magnificent thing but made markedly less so by the fact that you're gone away for a few weekends using a water bottle and pretending that it's nacho biting my toes makes the neighbours across the road in that white house on the corner wonder why i get to live here and they have to live there backing out of the driveway going too fast makes me think i shouldn't leaving the grocery cart in the middle of the aisle so that people can't walk by is much less fun when you're not here looking into the mouths of my culturally appropriated masks and attempting to perform a routing maximandibular advancement isn't as fun as it would be if your maxilla was here coming home and seeing your shoes or your picture or seeing your work or your scarf or your toque or that leftover chicken that's rotting in the fridge makes me real happy... i miss ya like crazy - it's a bittersweet thing though you know it sucks that i miss you but it's a brilliant thing at the same time. my thoughts are with you as you glaze under the egyptian sun. love ya sweetie.

letter to anyone that i've ever known for a weekend or two

2007-02-17T23:40:00.000-05:00

long time, huh? been busy some. some real busy. pretending to dance again. i've missed some of you - not all of you - a few of you...

many of you i actually stuffed into the back pocket of an old pair grease stained jeans that i donated to the salvation army some time ago - back in the old days maybe - back at that old apartment - that old kent street house in fonthill right around the corner of that subway station by danforth and broadview just around the corner from lake street and perpedicular to that old barn on parnell - yeah, back in the old life - that one that passed or is passing or will pass i'm not sure which one - seems so long ago - remember those? all those days - i don't either.

parts i remember - but so much scattered - fragments of fragments of pieces of fragments of bits and pieces of tiny particles exploding off of microscopic fragments of fragments all dressed up in shiny tiny particles and leopard skinned hats... remember those old days? i don't either...

parts i remember - but so much scattered - scattered puzzles and bloated crosswords - a blueprint - a retired soothsayer rocking in that chair - remember that sanded oil stained chair creaking in the sunroom the way it did? crawling around in those sunrays the way it did, remember? like an olympic swimmer - stroking frontwards backwards side to side spinning in circles drawing geometric shapes - shapes of all sizes - scratching your windows - hot - magnifying those sunrays - those gasoline sunrays pouring magnified sunrays all over the walls all over the ceiling and the floor too - splashing intolerable sunrays boiling temperatures burning hot - three times hotter than the hottest desert - melting those soldier-like cactus plants - framing the frames of those molten windows like a platoon of snowmen gasping for air in a midsummer heatwave...

how are you all doing i wonder sometimes when i wonder about why i don't wonder more often - how are your families - your children how are your relatives and your co-workers - how are your classmates and your pets - how are your neighbours and your partners - those are my thoughts while i wonder about wondering about whether it's worth wondering or remembering - better to wonder than to remember better to forget than be forgotten? not sure... don't know... don't remember... not sure... of much... when it comes to all of you... all of you people... you remnants... you fragments all of you people you pieces you bits you microscopic innate illegible references of the old times that passed the old times that are passing or the old times that will pass... all you shadows you photographs you old ancient obsolete reflections please take solace in knowing that as i sit here wondering yet again about why i don't woner about wondering more often it has just dawned on me that even though i don't remember any of you i am very happy very glad to know that i've forgotten every one of you...

the space between

2006-12-18T11:01:00.000-05:00

stuck here hovering over your eyes peering into your face these days gone by those days suspended hanging like a neglected marionette on the wonder wall clinging desperately to the dusty strings of time and now still sitting stumbling through those flickering hallways dancing slowly seductively with the well wishing wall washing wall flower witnesses those shadows all buried now buried deeply deeply within the wallowing walls of that timeless tunnel it can be said softly that the time has come so it is so it was in the beginning squinting peering carefully between the space that tiny space that imperceptible space between the space between so condensed so compressed like miniature candles sideways stacked melting brilliantly transforming those weak-kneed wax houses into tiny log fires melting gently in the november snow melting ice and coats and glasses melting walls and obstacles melting time and place melting circumstances melting me into you.

night stroll

2006-11-23T10:46:00.000-05:00

through sad stained glass
and carefully crafted
poetically polished
window frames
a lone figure emerges from the shadows -
out from the darkness
a lone figure emerges from the fog -
out from the clouds
she moves carefully, this one -
floating with weightless toes
along the bed of pedals
that marks her path.

october

2006-11-07T08:41:00.000-05:00

the train station buzzing in my mind
like those traffic machines
and people machines
dominating this landscape grey
and through it all
through the screaming steel skyscrapers
thrusting through the thin air
cutting slicing dissecting
the sky so blue
so brilliant blue
is a lonley sapling
seemingly so small so insignificant
and there's me
standing there on the crest
of one tree hill
choking on the memory
of those freshly painted
blood stained leaves.

amnesia sky

2006-10-24T20:54:00.000-04:00

we held each other that time,
and together,
we hypocrits,
searched hopelessly for the words,
they hypocrits,
that were lost in the storm,
the comfortable ones,
but time passed slowly back then,
and 'silence' was the only shoddy word to be found
under that pale
amnesia sky.

my thoughts.
thanks to kat for her photos

dogface

2006-10-16T01:27:00.000-04:00

the contemplator,
so adept in the art of contemplation
contemplatively contemplates
the hermetical camouflage masks
the antedeluvian primordial inclinations
the voracious carnivorous prospects
with appetent solicitous judgement
with punctilious scrupolous vigilance
with rigorous uncompromising detail
such is life...
for the contemplator,
that old wounded dogface

beijing

2006-10-13T08:12:00.000-04:00

the rainbow spectrum feathers ruffle the scaley green phoenix walls - an invitation of sorts...

temptation spreads her wings and somehow sometime somewhere between the prism gardens and the great stone doors somewhere between all that between the cadence and the shriek of the military drum is a lonely lark hovering bravely up in the blood red sky

circling above like a vulture this bird the phoenix this beauty has it in mind to topple the mighty dragon an ambitious undertaking to say the least and now with the dragon tired and weary having flown through so many years of history so many years of turmoil here now who could think of a time better than now, to topple the mighty techni-coloured beast - to slay the mighty lizard

and there, then, when in the midst of that elegant city, there, in the heart of those lavish gardens in the middle of those overgrown paths in between those intermittent crosswalks the detours the fences the posts the locks, there, then, when in that place for some god forsaken reason the pavement begins to play magnet with my metal eyes

and milling about there somewhere in the middle of it all - the middle of the world - medling in those middle man middle aged middle road memories melodic memories myopic memories molten memories black like coal -

milling about there in the middle of it all i almost - i almost remember something anything - someone - maybe - me? - someone - maybe - maybe me? who was that again? where was that again? me? betrothed to marry or betrothed to carry - on? something in the wind chokes my eyes... the fleshy doors echo as they slam shut hammering and clammering like rusty prison cell doors - a hypnotic harmony echoing still blowing through the vacant hollows of half built hallway homes halfway homes all helter skelter the horrific harmonies in the halfway hallways the helpless homes vacant empty except for that echo that helpless harmonizing halfway hollar hammering and clammering back and forth bouncing over bouncing back - back and forth - over and over - a loop

the crackling pupils in those radar eyes sweep the horizon line casting sharp white lights through the heavy stone walls and somewhere out there somewhere shivering underneath a quilt of rainbow feathers struggling underneath the weight of dysfunctional oxygen fans and dirty gasoline pumps is the lizard - the beast - struggling to burn on - clinging to those memories the brilliant orange and yellow and blue vivid bubbling flickering memories the desperation - it burns

but time, being the impatient mongrel that it is, shows no sympathy no weakness no soft underbelly it rides instead on the green back of the mighty bird above instigating a memorable descent down down down and with one brilliant act of trickery the poor bird is transformed into a dazzling splitting lemon yellow bolt of shimmering electric heat desperately craving some multi-coloured pieceof higher ground - the beast - the lizard - the mighty techni-coloured dragon never stood a chance...

down on the dry dirty earthbed - lolling in the cold crusty cracks below and quivering like a broken hearted lower lip the ancient lizard lies helplessly in a pool of acid rain drowning in defeat - extinguished - extinguished by time place circumstance extinguished by a hundred or a thousand or a million or more precisely by one point three four billion pellets of rain clawing their way through the pathetic canopy of cloud cover above - and falling - falling hard and fast - like daggers sharp pinching acid rain daggers - melting and extinguishing the place the politics the programs the people the party the portraits the pictures the people the paintings the poems the placards the people and yes -

of course -

and of course there is puff...

a practical joke for all to see - extinguished - deflamed before my very eyes - and i'm unhappy to say that i've never seen anything so upsetting in my entire life -

god dammit... you might not believe this but -

but it's raining like a motherfucker in beijing.

tiananmen

2006-09-15T19:58:00.000-04:00

was it here?
was it here that the bells tolled
and the guns belched bullets
under the crimson sky?
stood there,
in the middle of it all -
stood there gazing
through thick smog
nothing phasing
those metal boots
in the cement fields grazing
under concrete skies and
the cold brick stench
of military lies -

was it here?

was it here that the bells tolled

and the guns belched bulltets
under the crimson sky?

sleep

2006-08-08T01:16:00.000-04:00

midnight eyes
weave me a blanket, if you would
and i'll sleep here
under that gentle touch
until the end of time.

crooked wood

2006-07-06T01:46:00.000-04:00

i remember how it was way back then - those years - those intersections near the old house the winding turning paths the tempting paths all leading back to the old red and white barn - the old house with the crooked floors the crooked doors everything crooked twisted metal warped wood - i'm goin' way back now - back to crooked wood

i remember how it was way back then - those years - back when pride borrowed significance from the meaning of love stole relevance from the meaning of love you two all dressed up in your third class floral gowns those foreign tongues those lips those dirty class words - i'm goin' way back now - back to crooked wood

i remember how it was way back then - those years - how 'bout you? you remember those days? the two of you and your bitter fingernails those straight lipped stern faced stone cold statues still framed statues inhaling that urban bustling air into those rural peasant lungs frozen in time - i'm goin' way back now - back to crooked wood

i remember how it was way back then - sitting suspiciously under the shabby veranda that hung from the old house like a broken branch in a windstorm clinging desperately clutching desperately to the old house like a fading memory slipping off the slippery slip of the membrane brain - draining - all those thougths but that's goin way back now - back to crooked wood

i remember how it was way back then - those dark hollow staircases tunnels marked with glowing lights emanating from cracks from spaces behind wooden railings - dancing shadows flickering shadows all pressed up against the walls begging for a few crumbs of air to feed the starving screams- but that's goin way back now - back to crooked wood

i remember how it was way back then - those chrome bikes and dorset blocks backyard clocks ticking sweating running about buzzing about peering through clouds of dusk bugs kicking fences busted shed windows all locked up with the hammers and nails but that's goin' way back now - back to crooked wood

here now. you two. some life later. sitting. like then. under the old newly pained veranda. those moments. fly by before our eyes. fall down before our eyes. like those chestnuts. back in '83. cut the trees down we did. but that's goin' way back now. hmm. way back.

back to crooked wood.

here's the thing that i wished for that time that i wished upon that star that wasn't really there in the first place

2006-07-06T01:35:00.000-04:00

i'd just as soon be there
dancing quietly under
those silver midnight torches -
with you.

carousel

2006-06-20T02:24:00.000-04:00

crossed over for awhile
black, this spit
swimming in debonair disease
coughing up choking up
time
passing time
wind
passing out
did that again
deplorable
sat stone cold
austere
staring, sombre light flickers
fickle flame flickers
that afformentioned sickness
lay down in a weeks worth of garbage
inhaling plastics
rolling around in dried up oatmeal
and half torn cigarettes
beats my last ride on the five cent
carousel
down there by the lake
in the molten core of some brain
lively that brain
thinking
thinking about pots pans
microwaves printers
pictures scattered about
those thoughts
all scattered about
on and on without words
letters sure, pattering like a typewriter
on and on
ticking until
that molten core
hot steaming hot
midnight train
finds its ebullition somewhere
at 25 degrees celcius

dirt words

2006-06-04T14:07:00.000-04:00

here now
that time
these days
words just words
everywhere words
just words - air
thick with words
choking
hard breathing too much
too many
all too many
words
feel like ditchin' the ol'
dusty lexicon
in the nearest
dump.

livebait

2006-05-21T14:26:00.000-04:00

Written by: Jack Wieler

Directed by: Doug Ledingham

Starring:

Edwin Conroy as Lanny

Natasha Pedros as Annie

Live Bait is a one act play that will be opening in St.Catharines in September of 2006. It is currently in the preliminary stages of development. It will be sharing the floor with a few other original pieces that will be added to the card at a later date. Watch for it! More to come as the months fly by.

from the hip

2006-05-19T16:46:00.000-04:00

so this guy, right. this guy's got m.s. - i'm gonna just shoot from the hip here today - i mean i'm watchin' this guy full of m.s. all hunched over in some stainless steel four wheeled walker
he looks as though he's been forgotten by a person or two in his time - he's sippin' on a cold black coffee from a steel plated mug - you'd think he was on the verge you know?

i look at him a bit closer but i can't see his face - i imagine that he just wants to lie down or lay down you know - lay down or lie down on some grassy earthbed somewhere beside some
starchy sitting room - clean white sheets and all maybe turn on some five channel antenna tube in some five star hospital room and wait for his skin to turn rusty red with bed sores

how cathartic, i think to myself, how tragic it is that i'm sitting here stretching out some twisted ankle or cracking some dysfunctional jaw and here's this guy, all bent over hunched over like a drunk in that same back alley that i keep referring to - how long you been drunk like that? i wanna ask him - how long you been outta your head?

his eyes sweep the floor some before feeling their way up my legs - they stop for a second to wipe some piece of guilt or sorrow or sympathy off of my chin or my mouth - how rude of me i think to myself shrinking with embarrassment - i should have wiped it myself

to my surprise, if you would believe it, this guy ain't cryin' at all - this guy is smiling, fucking smiling. really. it's a huge wide white picket smile too, a pearly gate of sorts very welcoming - strong teeth too, healthy arch - the gates open - air and muscle co-ordinate that old two step as this guy exhales a gratifying collection of words...

nice day, he says brimming with joy, nice day to be alive.

lioness

2006-05-18T00:53:00.000-04:00

a glaring piece of sunlight strikes the morning window
under the watchful eye of the lioness
she is swift this one
moving, like the wind
carving curving unpredictable patterns in coniferous clouds
she weaves
she weaves
in and out in and out

so much like the windy mythical warrior she is
impenetrable, from this discouraged archer's point of view
her body, chiseled like some mythical stone
silhoutted by apollo's veil
moves gracefully, effortlessly
through these streets of mud
not a speck of dust to be found
on that emerald toe

and there, hidden behind that brazen glare that protects the window
like some great wall of stone, the peasantry,
we lowly bugs, observe, record, memorize her every move
longing for the love that we all dream about
from time to time
longing to find an opening on the other side of the glass
a weakness
surely, there is a weakness

and there, blinded by the glaring light
the lioness, all dressed in her battle skins and
equipped with her libran sensibilities
steps forward, into the white light of the window
into the white night of the window
with her chrome cheekbones pressed high against the glass
and there, buried deeply in the eye sockets of her skull,
highlighted, illuminated by reflecting reflections for all to see,
is the weakness

the eyes of the lioness are soft and forgiving
the eyes of the lioness are warm and soothing
the eyes of the lioness are calm and relenting
the eyes of the lioness are wide and unassuming

alas, there is the weakness.

alas!! there is the weaness.

you there

2006-05-11T19:05:00.000-04:00

you there,
sitting cross legged by the window -
do i know you?
have i seen you?
why have you come?

you there,
sitting cross-legged by the edge of that backyard architecture where weeds fester between landscape rocks and soil black as black night speckled with fertilizing stars white as white light how often have we stared through reflections like these how often have we stared through through glass coated garden ponds like these through shiny shimmering suburban motel windows just like these...

you there,
sitting cross legged by the provincial -
do i know you?
have i seen you?
why have you come?

you there,
sitting cross legged by the finely framed mirror admiring your own eyes memorizing your own eyes drawing with white haze drawing with charred black carbon tips those still framed portraits those life sized and curly haired still framed portraits trapped on your memory page so callously smudged by time so carelessly smeared by time beyond recognition that face once so well known now beyond recognition...

you there,
sitting cross legged by the telephone -
do i know you?
have i seen you?
why have you come?

tomorrow

2006-05-11T17:01:00.000-04:00

a dark dream shrouded in mystery enchanting eyes jet black hair dangling hanging like a cape covering your neck covering bare back beauty protecting your spine from the chilly spring breeze that whispers into our ears from time to time whimsical that breeze aren't they all aren't we all?

short lived eternity that time we spent in the freshly plowed fields of magnetic green stay here tonight right here for a second or an hour don't move a muscle and you have my word my solemn vow that i'll wait here i'll be here to catch you i'll catch up to you i promise i won't leave... i won't run away until tomorrow.

my friend

2006-05-07T01:49:00.000-04:00

dimly decorated skeletons dancing about
shrewd
shrewdly showered lamentable trophies
dancing with mirrors under cloudy skies
too frail to think
too frail to wonder
long defensive heels sinking into hungry plush carpet
desperate designer stenches floating about wafting and then you -
in that room - the same one
deep in thought that earthtone gaze that
plaid denim mentality
what an air freshner
for this techno haven

close and far between the years
those years gone by
and now those eyes a thousand times i've looked
but have never seen you
my friend
never seen you looking -
how often have you worn those eyes in my presence?
how often have you peeked behind my eyes?
so quietly
tipping on your toes
those toes
wrapped in green leaf slippers
devoid of percussion
filled with confidence and brimming with radiant joy
my friend my friend
tonight
show me your woman self again
let me see you

unfashionable stranger...

2006-05-05T00:39:00.000-04:00

unfashionable to question to ponder to wander to wonder about... cliche you say... unfashionable undesirable... before then... hard thinking it now but little time here has passed a lifetime ago - collecting dust and you there stitching the final letters of my epitaph on that pillowcase reserved especially for me - my tomb...

but not so fast...

...it was to be placed over my head during the midnight hours and inside the soft velvet casing small crudely worded instructions suggested that i should peek out of the thoughtfully crafted carefully cutout eyeholes that were so strategically placed around the backside - near the zipper

i thought then i think then about thoughts i'd once thought sitting in the cold wind on the end of that freshly sharpened pier - that man made peninsula piercing the heart of lake ontario with pinpoint accuracy- cloudy days nose running chills emanating from choppy white caps - grey day dark daylight - miss that life i never lived

hmmm. funny that. improvised thoughts inching about like dirt worms - here now - empty earth highways bike trails sidewalks conveyer belt stairs - here now - rousseau chains tied down dragged down to the bottom of that murky squirm - but what choice, really, in the end?

i get thinking some more and your words come to mind...

it's unfashionable...

unfashionable...

don't you see...

thinking about your existence is unfashionable...

i mean, it's a post-war mentality... (as though the war actually ended back then - sixty or six hundred or six thousand years ago)...

and somewhere in your words somewhere in your desperation i hear a cell door closing i hear keys rattling about and the sound of a heavy padlock being slammed shut fills my drums - your fingers turn yellow tense squeezing those rusty bars as the lights fade to black

my thoughts.

information bomb

2006-04-24T17:26:00.000-04:00

drop information bomb at centre drop information bomb scores of innocent women and children and yes men too longing to be fulfilled drop 1968 1953 drop 1939 1933 drop 1918 1914 drop 1870 drop 1830 1814 1783 1776 1759 and so on and so forth blah blah blah just like that forever maybe blah blah blah drop information bomb culture bomb history bomb scores of innocent women and children and yes men too longing to be fulfilled drop history bomb einstein bomb information bomb deviant information bomb digest information bomb silent information bomb black information bomb drop information bomb at centre scores of innocent women and children and yes men too longing to be fulfilled drop it drop it drop it on their heads on their heads poor unsuspecting heads repeat information bomb repeat drop information bomb drop it repeat as above over and over and so on and so forth blah blah blah just like that forever maybe drop information bomb poor unsuspecting heads repeat information bomb drop information bomb brilliant information bomb exquisite information bomb irresistable information bomb information bomb drop it drop it on my head my poor unsuspecting head what a sight to see what a beautiful breathtaking sight to behold all the different colours all the changing colours drop inforamtion bomb repeat and drop information bomb drop it drop it on my head my poor unsuspecting head drop it drop it and fade to black

thoughts on love

2006-04-22T13:22:00.000-04:00

loved the encounter the unceremonious glee filled encounter loved the guilt ridden pleasure
the seconds the hours the time that passed when destitution scamapered about smearing our names with that sick slick city stench

that foul mouthed gutter drawl that dialect reserved precisely for moments or years like these rolling off my tongue honestly, apathy, reality, stand tall firm fixed - squeeze the dreams squeeze the dreams till the pips sqeak clean freshly squeezed back alley dreams, serenely fucked deeply, sigh

here now, reality:

here now, window
here now, gaze
here now, turn
here now, class
here now, speak
here now, window

gaze class turn speak window speak window speak class speak window gaze window speak window turn window class window gaze window gaze window speak window turn window class

breathe breathe
turn gaze out window

gaze turn class turn window turn speak turn window turn speak class speak turn window gaze window turn speak turn window turn class speak class turn gaze window gaze turn speak turn window turn class turn gaze turn speak class turn window gaze turn speak class turn window gaze turn class speak window gaze turn class speak window gaze turn class speak window gaze turn class speak window gaze class speak window gaze class speak window gaze turn time window dream turn time window gaze turn time turn dream turn window gaze dream

white collar cuffs sweating breathing panting choking wrists choking smoking choking cuffs choking wrists blood clot fingers choking window head throb window time to gaze out tooth clenching window time to dream

time to dream about love
no apathy here, in the dream
in the dream love, without apathy

here now window turn class speak turn window gaze turn class speak turn window gaze

gaze

think

thoughts about love

problem:

all love leads to apathy...

apathy leads to desire
desire leads to repression
repression leads to depression
depression leads to desperation
desperation leads to fornication
fornication leads to impregnation
impregnation leads to subordination
sobordination leads to desolation
desolation leads to isolation
isolation leads to separation
separation leads to condemnation
condemnation leads to indignation
indignation leads to segregation
segregation leads to accusation
accusation leads to manipulation
manipulation leads to penetration
penetration leads to dissipation
dissipation leads to duplication
duplication leads to imitation
imitation leads to repetition
repetition leads to interpreation
interpretation leads to magnification
magnification leads to falsification
falsification leads to negotiation
negotiation leads to absolute frustration
absolute frustration leads only to more frustration
more frutstration leads to nullification misapplication miscalculation mummification retardation constipation evaporation domestication elimination of emancipation complete contamination of the imagination complete molestation of the imagination complete deprivation of the imagination

problem:

all love leads to apathy

solution:

less love. love less. weightless love. no love, no apathy. time to think. time to be. time to wonder. time to move. live between love. somewhere between. neither hither nor thither. somewhere between. live freely without love. without apathy.

gaze class turn speak window speak window speak class speak window gaze window speak window turn window class window gaze window gaze window speak window turn window gaze

nice drive

2006-04-14T14:26:00.000-04:00

the road drives by without a second thought unwinding feverishly charging against your weightless wheel a lesion a headwound a film in three dimesions like the cinesphere your windsheild plays the movie screen during this midnight excursion car meets road headlights floating by headless headlights gallavanting through the hills and massaging cool full moon pavement destination somewhere ahead organge construction signs contrasting blue direction signs complementing green direction signs highlighting yellow warning signs but no trace of fear tonight no impending doom no trace of worry or urgency or restlessness just me and my filmscreen windshield

up ahead red taillights dance by the roadside i fly buzzing my own pattern shooting across the road like a star in the sky who on the planet can be happier than me tonight sitting on my upholstered arse gazing through hundreds of thought bubbles and flashing photographs what a slide show my mind what a place to think and reflect no music for now got lots to chew on melodies abound thoughtfully tuned stillness eyes glued softly focused on the naked trees masked by some night on the reflective rivers and lakes masked by some night on the sheer size of this life my dreams so close to me now closer than when i was twenty closer than when i am sixty or seventy or dead or dying or whatever

thoughts of yesterday now remembering parnell and remembering walks to pete's with a pocketful of change blistering hands and winter wind can't penetrate that youth up ahead now a new stop a new neighbour a new school the same family all those kids five in total lots o' laughs lots o' fights lots o' memories new representatives we were lots o' culture in all that lots o' history in my bones in yours too gotta represent the fam damily gotta represent the name can't drop that ever might keep driving like this till the end grinding clutch pedal borrows a precious second but not strong enough nothing today nothing tomorrow nothing strong enough to overwhelm yeseterday

here now back in seat back in seatbelt safety back in soft headlights leading the way soft grip soft foot no traffic now just dark lakes passing by a bridge or two or four some shrubs trees getting closer now time could stop here too bad destinations ends beginnings journeys paths intersections all tracked down by headlights sniffed out by headlights illuminations hallucinations fabrications all tracked down by headlights heavy headlights dog's eyes headlights dog's ears headlights those headlights tracking down destinations instinctively gotta get there gonna get there gotta be there these headlights with their tv screen glow very cool one last memory flash last slide shuffling brilliant best for last walking through the woods two flashlights mosquitoes buzzing earth passing by crunching under feet conveyer belt dreams moving forward somewhere into that patch of black a tattered gymbag protection for warm beer look for rock find rock see sky see stars smell sweet tobacco smoke sweet tobacco stars smoke sweet time smoke sweet time to exhale time to laugh time to find prone position time to float time to snore time to snore smiling snores until batteries die no more headlights no more illuminations just recreations cold happy recreations gonna get there gotta be there gotta get there... nice drivin' with ya tonight

my thoughts

infanticide

2006-04-02T19:13:00.000-04:00

infanticide she cried fantastically fanatically infanticide she cried as the blob of life inhaled the last of the plastic bagged chemical compounds that were so piously placed against this puckered set of preambled premature lips - somebody lurks there in the shadows - somebody rocking with fists clenched in the creaking chair

all is silent but the defilement is in the air clawing through your nostrils like a garden hoe - stay quiet now - the pain shredding below ripping the thighs grinding the thighs what pain now what bastard lurking between those legs what creature bangs at those walls - what creature in the next room - who’s there, rocking in the creaking chair??

…. shhhhhhhhhhhhh

infanticide! what state of mind what abuses have been brought upon your silky skinned innocent palms what carnage what wrath brought upon your unsuspecting hips in those dizzy unconscious drunken hours what fear fell upon your fallopian-tubed fantasy that you were so afraid to come forth with the dreaded news - what toilet selected by your eyes to be the child’s unkind birthplace and deathplace both one and the same how unkind how tragic

devasted by chaos and an unmemorable memory of all things past this mother reacts accordingly - rather than pin the poor child to the mountainside by his sleepy skinny ankles as one might expect a more appropriate death weapon is selected - this toilet reeks of drunken havoc and as such the grocery bag is selected as the most appropriate means to send to the child back

poor poor child - victim of such a blind series of unrelenting circumstances - poor poor mother victim of such a blind series of unrelenting circumstances - poor poor humanity victims of such a blind series of unrelenting circumstances

jo's old cabin

2006-04-01T13:56:00.000-05:00

by the old house i drove late last night no trace of summer mornings left behind just a memory or two it's ok though i think and i emphasize the word think because i'm never really sure of all that much or so it seems long days spent in that old cabin long winters but mostly i thought about fall and the old tree out front losing its leaves the way it did or does or will and i wished for a second that i'd spent a bit more time back then admiring the red and orange and yellow leaves a bit more time admiring their long descent first onto the ground then into the ground then back up again in some form you know how that old cycle rolls

by the old house i drove late last night no trace of high school no trace of protective fathers or sensitive mothers no trace of siblings teenagers inbred dogs or old backyard plum trees filled with bees protecting their territory what happened to those bees how could they have given up so easily just packed it in the way they did but i guess nature holds in high esteem that pattern of change that we all embrace and detest and celebrate and resent all of those things all at the same time too many feelings sometimes all too many

by the old house i drove late last night no trace of recliner chairs no trace of cluttered basements no trace of tents or extra tent pegs or old shoes filled with earwigs just a shadow or two got stuck there for a bit and talked out loud all by myself mumbled something but i forget what it was then cried some but just for a bit cause this was one of those moments you know the kind of moment that you don't want to forget the kind of moment that you don't want to give away too easily emotions sometimes overwhelm these moments but not this time and even though i couldn't breathe for a bit i got myself back just in time to think that maybe i should have spent more time down there in that light bulb basement just sitting you know smelling that musky smell or just hanging out with the old pictures or the old hockey skates maybe i should have sat down there and had a talk with a ghost or two but i'm sure that you know how it is when you think that you should have but didn't even though you know you should have but you didn't

by the old house i drove late last night no trace of garbage cans or summers up north swimming in the quiet lake no trace of morning coffee brewing or the daily star on the kitchen table no trace of new years or video games or homemade haircuts no trace of sweet bread growing in the oven no trace of the lake at the end of geneva staring across it like it was some wide expansive ocean waiting to be explored or conquered or whatever but there's another memory in my mind don't like goin' back now cause it's marked now too rich with significance

by the old house i drove late last night no trace of little betsy that old rusty k-car no trace of buicks or intrepids or mini vans no mazdas no maximas just an empty driveway for a second or two or three there's old jim and there's old elizabeth waving bye from the step the way they do or did the roof stands out for a second the old cabin shingles pop out in front my eyes and here i mumble something again as inaudible as my previous attempt i think it had something to do with thoughts of gazing at toronto from a lifetime away staring at the skydome roof like it was some kind of dream machine -

by the old house i drove late last night no trace of collegiate no trace of simcoe no trace of amigo's that old drinking hole and again i got thinking about the lake at the end of geneva street and twin cities how poorly i loved i thought to myself how poorly and then another memorized memory of the lake at the end of genevea street asking you if you think we could just jump across it? just leap through the sky maybe skip on the water a few times and land right square on top of that big white roof

c'mon hop on my shoulders or on my back i'll give you a piggy back ride and if that doesn't work i'll take you for a more conventional style ride i don't really have a car yet but i can get hold of a small 83 civic wagon with a neat roofrack and an even cooler hatchback gimme a call sometime here's my number i called you first you call me next ok? just don't hide your face please that's all i ask just don't hide your face because i've got you on some kind of pedestal now and even though i've only known you for as long as that old cabin i think i wanna love you real hard and if you hide your face on me now i'll just say a pile of things that i don't really mean just to push you away or to push me away or to make it even more difficult for me to jive with you in any kind of realistic capacity... but you get that we both do

drove by the old house late last night on the way home from my parents place and the whole north end felt kind of empty kind of abandoned it's funny how all this goes but it's ok i think because moving on can be literal as well as figurative i suppose but i guess it just kind of smacks you when they happen together like this

drove by the old house late last night and wanted you to be there and that's just me talking plain i wanted you the be there because sometimes when you're left with no trace at all of anything that was once everything you feel a bit lost a bit confused and yeah a bit sad too so there i sat admiring the old cabin and you weren't there so i just pretended that you were and i mumbled some inaudible thing and i invented the scenario in my mind i watched you walk out of that old cabin and you closed the door behind you and you locked the door behind you and you looked one last time behind you at the old cabin sitting there all wise and proud fighting back jugs of tears and you were doing the same thing. in my head i watched you watching the old place on trinidad and you had a hard time saying goodbye but you finally did - you were trembling and you felt misunderstood but you got into your car because you had to and then against your will you drove off your but not before pressing the brakes one last time the brake lights illuminated the whole neighbourhood for a short while as you took a second to appreciate the magnitude of such a moment and then like the light bulb hanging in the cluttered basement you were off - pulled by that string we call change

in my mind i sat there watching that sad farewell that old cathartic exchange and as you drove away you might not believe this but the windows began to weep and the front door began to tremble the way the nose of a child would tremble if he or she was frightened or feeling unloved... i wanted to go to the cabin and tell the old guy that everything was going to be ok... that all would be well in time and even though saying goodbye was difficult it was just part of life everyting changes everything rearranges and it's important to feel the way you do from time to time but when i finally made my way up to the old dwelling when i finally got to the curb i froze and i realized that i couldn't do it - standing there at the curb under the old tree gazing at the old windows and the old roof was all too much - so i just sat down for awhile on the curb there and mustered up an ounce of composure or something like that and i tried to memorize the moment and in an ironic twist of fate the old cabin - all welled up with tears - reached out with its front door and touched my shoulder and said don't worry kid all will be well in time and even though it's difficult right now this is just part of life... everything changes... everyting rearranges

skyline

2006-03-31T01:15:00.000-05:00

wide open the northern sky no moon tonight all is black new moon tonight the moon buried black concealed by invisible arcs obscured by the unseeable cycle of time months passing now seconds flashing as calendar drains waste in black new moon sky

sky is packed tonight packed full of northern stars jam packed cram packed full of silver shining stars and lying there in the long grass on your dark earthbed direction loses relevance no matter here just your still-gazed fixed frenzied fantasy no matter here just you

in this place by the shoreline under the treeline beyond the horizonline an unreasonable unseasonable calm descends casting curving calves deep into the moist earth digging sharp membrane spades into soft butter soil creating earthtone orthotics straightening skulls plate by plate balancing spines vertebrae by vertebrae soft popping crunching sounds as the jaw finally drops into it's rightful resting position no thoughts of mourning here no time for weeping the city sleeps tonight

a whimsical breeze blows by the shoreline one that agrees with the trees that define the point where the skyline meets the treeline just over the horizonline beyond the boundry line across the lake line like a lateral line a link line a life line

weep if you must but i assure you the city sleeps tonight

your focus hanging there's no timeline just a straight line between your eyeline and the skyline so many stars tonight thick with stars plexi-moments pass quickly now as you gaze up or is it down hard to say skyline resembles cityline cityline resembles skyline sky plays city city plays sky some big city up there some big space down here some lost city up there over my eyes some lost atlantis out of my reach some piece of heaven down here some piece of man up there some piece of god down here under my rump some crippled saviour out of my reach

can't stretch fingers can't touch sky can't see skin eyes glued to earth heart glued to eyes but still sinking all the time slowly like some lost city up in some lost sky slowly sinking and falling back on the dark earth to get some rest to close some eyes to get some sleep to repeat some cycle

that vicious cycle forever repeating recycle some repeat some recycle some repeat some repeat like so for quite some time repeat like so for quite some time longer repeat like so repeating like so for quite some time longest repeat like so skip like so skip like a stone skip like some record all scratched and torn and keep on skipping keep on skipping over and over repeating and repeating until repetition becomes repetition for repetition's sake only...

and then sink deeper.

sink deeper into horizonline.

sink deeper into treeline deeper into timeline deeper into boundaryline lakeline eyeline

deeper into shoreline linkline cityline lifeline...

sink deeper.

sink deeper into
skyline.

my thoughts.

jack bevington reporting from athens

2006-03-30T09:26:00.000-05:00

ok check this folks... this blog is written by a pal o' mine. his name is jack too. jack bevington. furthest on the left. really funny hombre. anyhow, he's travelling to different parts of the world and he sent me this email that i thought was blog worthy... check it. bevington, this letter redefines funny shit.

anyway enjoy this letter from jack bevington:

Hey there buddies!

I know nobody reads these mass emails, so I guess I can call you buddies buddy even though you're not even my buddies, half of you!

Anyway, I made it to Athens safe and sound at 5am. It seems a lot shadier at night when there's a bunch of mangy dogs everywhere. It's actually kinda cool during the day. But it's like everything is wrecked. You go see this thing that's wrecked and then this other old wrecked thing. But there's a bunch of stray turtles (yes turtles) and a complete absence of any sort of preceptible traffic laws to keep it interesting. This one dude on a scooter had like 15 dozen eggs strapped to the back and was going the wrong way through traffic. When a truck came, he just veered onto the sidewalk. No helmet of course. I guess if you don't hit any stray turtles, everything is fine.

Kuzma, you would be happy to know that I stumbled across a really shitty zoo. The shittiest Zoo ever in fact. In one cage they had an exotic combination: two mules, five roosters, a few pigeons and the shittiest looking kitty I've ever seen. yes, there was a kitty in the zoo. Also, I'm at the hostel right now and you can get beer out of the pop machine. It's 30c more than orange drink. Amsdel. Pretty sweet.

Oh, and I haven't taken a shit yet because there is a sign that says "absolutely no paper can be flushed down the toilet. Please use the waste paper basket. They can't possibly mean TP, can they? You just put your shitty ass paper in the bin? I didn't have the heart to ask the girl at the desk because she was eating.

Lindros For Shit_Mayor.

Say hi to Boober and Wembley,

Love Your Uncle Travelling Matt, I mean, Jack.

nile

2006-03-27T19:46:00.000-05:00

don’t know much don’t know much anything really beginning of time we’ll meet there on the nile at five to nightfall breathe together sit together so mysterious so powerful for so long could we be forgotten

what will become of us our words our writing any trace left behind so disregarded what secrets those brave mute statues protect refuse to die sworn to secrecy that giant nile valley so mysterious so powerful for so long forgotten anything ever so forgotten?

what giant the nile valley what mother the nile river what graveyard the great sahara longest of all beaches what giver the rich alluvial plain what quencher the blue nile banks swath green barreness what wonder you tombs laid brick by brick flooded by foreign invaders what pillars the great stones billions tall standing mute statues what rampart the protected riddles buried in clay what lioness the sphynx what scholar that mute testimony what whispers those secrets buried in sand how much sand buried here for three thousand or five or eight thousand years

drinking dark black coffee on the nile we’ll turn agriculturalist remember the grassland before egypt before pyramids before africa remember no words remember no writing for so long forgotten so disregarded buried in life-lines in the midst of desperation the nile river longest river swollen seasonally by rains together we’ll think those great riddles and talk those great mysteries together we’ll drink dark black coffee on the nile

thirty years here thousands more there before egypt before the nile before africa beyond the river rushing down into the nile delta flooded by high rainfall waterdrops and life silt deposits dead in coffins lavish graves who are you where are you now why are you so forgotten

memory banks turned into graves no homes here no great encyclopedia just memories built into stone memories built into sand memories built into shadows memories built by hand memories built layer on layer but no book memories here no page memories here only dead memories left behind only coffins only graves only tools knives pots and pictures no words no speech

no words no speech

damn you bob dylan

2006-03-26T08:52:00.000-05:00

goodbye bob dylan i never knew you in the old days do you remember those days those old days - back in those days bob you prophesized that the times were changing you hypothesized that the order was fading you determined in those days that the youth was invading you barked out in those days that the old were evading you made a promise to my dad's generation that you were crusading cascading persuading blockading the old to make way for the new

but all that was then before now before the old dog eyes before the list of good byes the new disguise you know what that implies they believed in you bob - they believed in you then like we want to believe in you now but your bag of tricks is empty your case of supplies defies denies decries that supersized upsized fatsized box of pintsized french fries that you're sellin' for a buck where do you get off bob?

where do you get off?

somewhere up the road i imagine - somewhere just around the corner i bet - but before you get off bob before you clock off i've got a few questions for ya because i wanna know i need to know i'm dyin' to know - when did you get weak?

when did you get weak bob?

was it back at the beginning? before the times changed? was it back in the day bob? back in those old days when you strolled about in the village green playing your part? that old dump routine - was it back then bob? did the mean deviate at some point toward the obscene unclean unseen eighteen singing to your shadow behind the diffusing screen ranting and raving about the war machine?

you once called your guitar a fascist killer but you borrowed that old slogan from another place another person another time what's the matter bob did you feel left out? how much money did it cost you to trade in your woodie guthrie impersonation? when i saw you that time in the 1960's on some movie that cost me 50 bucks you were flyin' high lookin' sly with your black eye and your bad guy bone dry money supply banging a song like it was a battle cry

and the people came bob - the people came from all around the people came and they gathered round the people came and they all sat down the people came from all over town bob - the people - they shoveled themselves out of their homes they dug themselves out of the mud they broke through their casket clay cocoons just to come to see you bob... and there you were... all decked out in your purple feather cap and gown all strung out on pepsi cola all buried up in a pile of change - silver glimmering gleeming change - it was all around you bob change was everywhere and you just sat there shivering - huffing and puffing like a teenaged junkie - caught in the glare blinded by the bold blue bouncing light reflecting off of that grotesque pile of silver glimmering gleeming change...

where do you get off bob?

and the times did change bob - the times changed and the people changed and the world changed and you changed too and all the people went home and all the people climbed off of their mounds and all of the people folded up their chairs and they went home and they all went home and they all bought brand new lcd tv's

they all went home and bought brand new cars they all went home and bought brand new homes they all went home and bought brand new clothes they all went home and bought brand new masks they bought brand new lives they all went home and bought brand new wives and they all got married and they all made a billion babies and all those babies made a billion more babies and all those babies bought a billion more brand new lcd tv's for their brand new living rooms they all got numb bob - we all did - we got numb

all the people went to their brand new homes and all the people sat in their brand new living rooms and they all sat on their brand new furniture and they all watched you bob - and you just sat there shivering - posing for the camera in the name of victoria's secret skin cold naked hiding your privates like the emporer who had lost his clothes - you just sat there bob - the great american poet laureate of social revolution - you just sat there bob - huffing and puffing like a teenaged junkie - caught in the glare blinded by the bold blue bouncing light reflecting off of that grotesque pile of silver glimmering gleeming change...

where do you get off bob?

taarna sundance

2006-03-25T15:33:00.000-05:00

written by: myke zikk

aka - akira sundance - check out his site

When the (then) Liberal Party of Canada began to self implode in the early 21^st Century, my great great grandfather, Akira Sundance, was still living in Japan. He was living in poverty at a Shinto shrine while back in Canada our leaders acted like five year olds, toppling each others minority governments in hopes of gaining power for a day. I'll be your friend, if you give me some chips, they said to each other

As his diary states, Akira was burning bamboo when the revelation hit him. The Canadian people have been duped by humans that act like monkeys, when in fact they should be led by monkeys that act like humans. We elect imbeciles on the hopes that they will be true, and each time we are let down. We set ourselves up with great expectations, only to see them dashed with the truth that each and every politician is a rancid (illegible handwriting). By electing someone, or something we expect to fail, we will be happily surprised if they can pull off something remotely close to good leadership.

drive

2006-03-23T23:08:00.000-05:00

i watched you last night you know who you are - i watched you in the rearview mirror of my 1975 model T mind you were sneaking up on me in your much newer model-?-mind haven't seen that style before haven't seen those lines

you were approaching in silence - calm ubiquitous silence - i could feel you on the road but couldn't see you through the light - in my mind just a haze something soft i could smell you in the air but couldn't hear you with the windows down and the radio blaring the way it was

your soft low-beam light illuminated the horizon silhouetting the moment making crude carboard cutouts of the scenery directly ahead - no thoughts of a third dimension here - in this void light is a lumberjack stripping the bark from my trees - clear cutting ancient dusty mysteries with a disdain for their natural habit - and yet your gentle haze remains

your gentle haze so soft settles around my squinting shoulders so warm you teach me the definition of undulation here in this moment as the dynamite walls between us come crumbling down in gentle magestic curving waves - nothing rigid here only slow-winding roads for miles to come

the signs pass us by a shapeless multi-coloured blur one long streamer without end making a dollop of our sorroundings - at the centre of the smudge is the mirror - that shimmering mirror again - framing the lips in the centre - those dark thick lips all dressed up in velvet shrouded in mystery and quixotic flare - haven't seen that style before haven't seen those lines

some night we'll drive together you and i - some night we'll gallavant through the hills and coil around the mountains like limbs under winter blankets we'll make our way through the night sky with an effortless abandon soaking in the haze and mingling with the dark - but for now we'll simply drive - one behind the other - frozen like two eyes framed by that shimmering mirror in my 1975 model T mind

stranger friend

2006-03-22T00:26:00.002-05:00

after a long day i seek succor in my fingers but as is the case from time to time the fingers are too tired to think and that old pen, on its last legs by now, finds a happy coffin under the buttons of my keyboard - an impending doom of sorts - puns are rarely intended in these parts so i sit blank-faced waiting for my fingers to rescue me but all is cluttered in the sky tonight the moon is half empty

from my living room window i stare up at the junkyard sky - it's all cables up there - cables wires and pipes - a tangled mass of techno waves and cellular signals congesting the sky like a midnight traffic jam

there's a message in this mix a song to be sung - somewhere up there buried in the lonely hubcaps is a message a meaning a sign anything somewhere up there hiding behind the exhaust fumes behind a billion fragments of burning pink history is a note - send me a letter...

the timing is impeccable - the featherweight page dances down from black sky to black earth disrupting the gothic landscape with a bright white silver blue light - it falls like a star dropping out of the cluttered sky and comes to its final resting place somewhere behind my eyes or between my temples - the mark of a stranger friend seals the sign

"we want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want whoever to call or
not call, a letter, a kiss--we want more and more and then more of it. But there
are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, say,
the window of the corner video store, and I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep
for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm speechless:
I am living." (marie howe)

the words resonate in my bones sending electormagnetic pulses down to the tips of my toenails electromagnetic pulses down to the nobs of my knees electromagnetic pulses onto the surface of my skin

the ends of my eyelashes stand up tall and thin as the motor in my mind veers off of the bulletproof autobahn skidding on the gravel shoulder leaving a dustcloud or a mushroom cloud - sending a wake into the sky a mile high a sweltering cloud of smoke and dust

signalling to the neighbours signalling to the dreamers in the world signalling to all those poor souls sucking scum from the gutters of the junkyard sky - there is hope all of you toilet dwellers there is hope...

i'm alive... we're alive

living breathing mocking sleeping talking weeping walking eating stalking watching locking reading blocking writing rocking hiding the verbs go on and on and on until you can't help but to see - you can't help but to notice the purpose the point the meaning - these verbs are our finest representatives

representing our state of nature our state of mind our state of affairs - reminding us that life lives and breathes somewhere in the nucleus of the word and all of a sudden all at once i'm happy sad amazed by the power of the world and happy sad devastated by the weakness of the word

because sometimes you stop and look around you sometimes you stop and catch a quick glimpse of yourself or of someone else anybody else everything else and you think... there are no words at alll... nothing... just me and this moment and no words...

my eyes turn high beam as i pan the litter floating in the junkyard sky - who are you ? i should ask - but no words come

from somewhere up there - somewhere in the junkyard sky contact has been made - who are you? i should ask - but no words come

what's become of you? i should ask

but - again - no words come

we're alive

that's all

that's it.

thanks to teri, my stranger friend, for helping me finish this thing - it's been sitting around for a long time - the marie howe selection that you sent me inspired the last two thirds of this thing thanks again my stranger-friend

untitled

2006-03-18T22:57:00.000-05:00

by: doug ledingham

I remember when we had the coffee maker on the floor
I was worried that it would be broken during the break dancing.
Half joking about sexy against the refrigerator,
I didn't tell you about the siverfish because i was afraid it'd ruin your night.
This was all before the wireless age,
when pithy answers never flowed through my fingertips,
and i tried to type in mittens because my hands were too cold.
Everything was too expensive but it was better that way,
all my time was mine, and so was my mind.
I've since sold pieces and haven't seen you in years,
there's something raw with this deal but I'm too proud to say so.
It wouldn't matter now though because you're not the same body,
You've switched twice since then,
but then corporeality never was your strong suit for long.
I don't ever remember, I remember too clearly,
I was convinced I could eat your joy,
you had so much of it.
Can't help thinking we should have abandoned the the world more.
Pardon, we use the side bathroom to store the empties
and last night I was drinking and dancing on the walls.
Your rather jumbled now computing fixing en point of order,
console,
head down on,
droolin,
break down of en point order,
march,
a month I a had a bad drinking bout with a girl I hardly knew,
she was cute but we couldn't get along sober.
Work dominates the dreams I lured you with,
fouls the bait,
maybe weren't entirely honest with each other,
but it was a lovely lie for awhile, wasn't it?

note: this poem is a billion dollar award winner

old dog

2006-03-16T18:29:00.000-05:00

through the black and white frame i see an old white dog in a dark filthy alley

he lies under a flimsy black garbage bag on a stained piece of white shredded cardboard

the old white dog is lowly and crippled and begs for change he’s scattered tattered and nothing matters inside his gray old icy dog eyes - he’s trembling too trembling like we all tremble from time to time when we feel scared or hungry or just a bit chilled to the spine

I pity the poor old white bearded dog completely genuinely condescendingly – i want to offer my hand to the curb dweller or maybe apologize but here again like so many times before the words escape me – it’s his eyes that are most striking it’s the bloodshot grey that’s most compelling - this old dog makes a habit of making honest men out of liars and his eyes tell the tale

the old dog has eyes that drool with sadness and helplessness - he stares right inside me deep into my bones – I fear that he can hear my blood pumping through my organs I fear that he can smell my secrets and my darkest details I fear that he’s got me pegged… I feel the need to leave… I’m very still - you know the way we get when we see strange animals in city streets… i feel the need to leave

as a parting gift i’d like to throw the old dog a bone or a nickel or something of the like but my bones are too busy chattering and I spent my last buck on a brand new lcd tv... i wonder if he knows... i think he does... I wonder if he sees that little army of marx-haters locked away somewhere behind my ribs ... does he see them… i think he does… i feel a short acute sting of guilt which I don’t like feeling so as a courtesy i smile that jack layton smile that we all reserve for moments like these and I give the old dog my best jack layton salute followed my most convincing jack layton handshake

but the old dog’s not impressed – no sir this one’s been around the block a time or two… he’s onto me… he’s reading me like a pop-up book - he knows phonies finks and feigned freedom fighters like me myself and jack all too well…

excuse me - I say to the dog - it’s been a real pleasure it’s a fine place you have here a fine dump a splendid gutter but I have to be getting on – the old dog's eyes turn knife it appears as though i’ve offended him… the silence that follows ties me down I speak again - I’m sorry if I’ve offeneded you but I say the wrong things sometimes – his eyes step forward I want to leave but I can’t there’s something magnetic in his headlight eyes I speak again - happy day to you kind sir enjoy your time down here in the swivel shit down here in the stink it’s been a tremendous pleasure to have met you – my feet are riveted to the alley mat stone frozen stuck like a concrete statue... the old dog swallows me with his gaze… his midnight stare attacks my nervous system with medusa like precision - he knows the snakes well – I should leave I think to myself if only I could leave

but the street lurch pins me down with his stare and now the sound of eyes sharpening metal on metal fills my ears and scratches my drums I speak one final time - thank you kind fellow it’s been a tremendous pleasure I hope you enjoy your time down here in the muck I hope you enjoy your time down here in the piss-dirt good day to you kind sir – I want to turn around now but it’s no use… the old dog draws his bloodshot saber toothed eyes and holds them high like assault weapons I’m in the line of fire –

centuries of pent up frustrations are bottled here in this black and white alley centuries of low brow gray bearded toothless injustice live here in this unhappy dwelling and the old grey bearded white dog seems intent on evening the score - if only i’d known – it’s not my fault – I wanna yell but it’s too late…

his eyes strike like lightning i’m under his spell now – it’s not my fault – I wanna yell – it’s not my fault that you’re living with the pop cans… it’s not my fault that you’re living with the bugs… it’s not my fault that you’re living with the cigarette butts and the broken bottles…

his razor sharp eyeballs slash my palms - slash – his razor sharp eyeballs shred my fingernails – slash - i’m stuck in the headlights now i’ve seen somethin’ i shouldn’t have seen - slash – I dig deep into the filth and stench and find something that resembles a verbal defense…

what do you want from me?? It’s not my fault – slash

i’m innocent - slash - fuck

i’m sorry - slash - fuck - slash

i look down bodyshocked stunned welded to the dirt - i got blood on my hands - where’s all this blood comin’ from -

I wanna tell him that he’s mistaken me for someone else somebody who makes decisions somebody who makes choices somebody who cares about rules laws people I wanna tell him that’s it not my fault – slash splat fuck

I wanna tell him that it’s just the way it is - that there is clear scientific evidence that indicates that some sad fucks just end up on the streets or in the mud or in the dump or whatever… I wanna tell him that we all have roles to play - some sad fucks get to play trees and other less sad fucks get to play leads - I wanna tell him that he’s been cast as street larva because it’s best for the group and what’s best for the group is best for everybody - slash fuck slash

I wanna tell him to accept his role and shut the hell up because god dammit this show’s goin’ on with or without you or me or anybody else – I wanna pull open the curtains and show him the audience - I wanna get philosophical – I wanna tell him that this whole thing this whole world alley life words breath air everything it’s all an illusion all a figment of our psycho pseudo schizo selfish imaginations it’s just a play man the whole thing it’s just pretend make believe so stop takin’ all of this shit so seriously – slash splat fuck

all you gotta do is play your part i wanna say - just pretend that it doesn’t hurt - just pretend that you don't feel sad or hungry or cold just pretend that it doesn’t piss you the fuck off … just pretend like the rest of us – play the jester put a lampshade on your head slip on a banana peel pull a rabbit out of your hat do what you gotta do to get by but whatever you do please for the sake of everyone else...just pretend

stop thinkin’ so much stop wondering stop envying stop feeling stop attacking stop being so self-centred because we don’t wanna pity you - we don’t wanna feel remorse or guilt or sorrow it's not our fault - it's just the way it is - so pick your sorry ass up and juggle - pick your sorry ass up and dance or sing and leave your cathartic ideas at the door - don’t fuck it up for everybody else don’t fuck with numb – slash fuck slash

got blood on my hands where’s all this blood comin’ from ...

i didn’t do nothin’ i'm innocent -slash

got blood on my hands - slash

just stood there didn't do nothin' just watched it all happen -

Got blood on my hands – slash

got stuck in the headlights it's not my fault -

Got blood on my hands – slash

Did nothin' - not a single thing - slash splat fuck

shoulda done somethin'... slash

but i did nothin' - slash

just watched it all happen - slash

and didn't do a thing - slash

Slash

slash

scream

2006-03-15T01:55:00.000-05:00

Today the weather was sunny. It was warm too. Do you like it when it's warm outside? I do. I like swimming. Do you? I’ve been working on my emu impression lately. It’s a scream. Do you know how to get to sesame street? I do.

What have you been up to? How is your hamster? How are your neighbours? How are your friends? How are your shoes? How is your dog? How is your place? How is your job? How was your weekend? Are you listening to me?

Hey, remember that time that we bought those apples from the market and then we ate them? What a scream. You don’t still smoke cancer sticks do you? They’re gross. Guess what. I got a cactus today. Are you still flying to the moon this summer? That’s so cool. You’re so adventurous. You’re so funny.

Heard any good stories lately? Hey. Wake up. You know Lucy, next door? I'm mad at her. She talks about me behind my back, I know it. I hate her. She told me that she hates you. Do you hate her? She's a backstabber. Hey. Are you listening to me? I'm trying to talk.

I drew a picture of a helicopter today. Vroom. Beep beep. It was a scream. Do you know german? Can you speak it? How is your dog anyway? Have I already asked you that? I can kick high. Watch this. I went to a bar last night and got drunk. It was a scream. Do you still wear braces? Adults with braces are funny. I got new shoelaces today. I’m going to Vancouver on a train. Do you like trains? Why don’t you ever talk?

Do you think that llama is a funny word. I do. So does everybody else. Do you know any funny words? Llama. What a scream. Hey. Hello? Anybody home? Knock knock. Anybody in there? Do you get it? Did you get that joke? What a scream.

Those apples were funny. Remember the time that we at them? Jeez, do I have to do all the talking around here? Hey wake up! Hey. What's the matter with you? You have to be able to communicate with people. Aren't you supposed to be a teacher?

Dammit will you listen to me. I'm trying to - hic - ouch. I've got the hiccups. Hiccups hurt. Do you ever get the hiccups?

Listen to me I'm trying to -hic - ouch.

Can you say something please. I can't do all of the talking around - hic - ouch - hic - ouch.

Hey. Hey. LISTEN TO ME - hic - OUCH - hic - OUCH - DAMMIT -

I need some water... hic ouch hic ouch hic ouch. Why won't you say something?? WHY NOT?? hic hic - ouch ouch. Why won't you - hic hic hic ouch ouch ouch - I CAN'T TALK FOREVER - hic hic hic hic ouch ouch ouch ouch

DON'T JUST SIT THERE - hic hic hic hic ouch ouch ouch ouch. SAY SOMETHING!!

WORDS. TALK. SPEAK! hic hic hic ouch ouch ouch

I can't BREATHE - hic hic hic ouch ouch ouc - hic hic ouch ouch -

HEY!! HEY!! HELP ME DAMMIT HELP ME hic hic ouch hic ouch hic hic ouch hic hic ouch -

HEEYY - HEY!! HELP!!! I CAN'T BREATHE!!!

hic hic

ouch.

hic.

hic.

ouch.

hic. hic.
ouch.

beckett crIstal and thoughts of a gobal conquest

2006-03-14T09:41:00.000-05:00

My friend CrIstal was hoping that I would add a more personal post to let people know how I was doing, what I was up to, etc... In her words, more reality less jack. So here goes...

Hi crIstal i'm doing swell. I'm just finishing march break. It's been busy but I've had plenty of time to relax. Frank and Leslie got their new pup. He's a boxer and they've named him Beckett!

Speaking of Beckett, my Sam Beckett dvds finally arrived and they're amazing. I may have watched the version of That There one too many times last night though as i fell asleep with visions of a white haired head dancing in my mind. I think I should watch these slowly. One a day or something. I tried to barrel through about four yesterday and I stopped when I began to develop the following symptoms: increasingly unsettled - shifty eyes - shortness of breath - knots in my stomach - nausea - bouts of spontaneous laughter bouts of spontaneous sadness - inability to speak or use words - hard of hearing - loss of appetite - spontaneous desire to replace my couches and chairs with garbage cans and boxes - just to name a few lol.

I've spent time this week with Peter. He's doing well. He's decided to put on a two short Sam Shepard plays at the Carousel space in April. I'll be performing in Red Cross along with Dawn and Mary Laundry. Pat Noonan, who played with us in Risk Everything a while back will be performing a monologue called Killer's Head. These plays are produced rarely so I would think that you should get your ass down here and check them out. More info to come on that, for everybody. What else? Oh, I should mention that I'm travelling the world!!! Lol... seriosly... I have a 14 month leave that starts in June, 2008. Here's some info...

WORLD TOUR - 2008/2009

i've decided to travel around the world. i have 14 months off of work starting june 2008 so i think i'll leave sometime around there. i imagine that i'll "settle down" a bit more after this trip.... a few people have already suggested that they would like to meet me on different legs of the trip, depending on where i'll be and that would be great... likely, i'll be travelling for a year or so. essentially, that leaves me with about 26 months (just over two years) to get this thing together. if anybody has any tips ideas suggestions plans desires wants lessons strategies favourite places information anything... contact me either through my blog or via email. i'll be posting alot more about this over the next while.

so, CrIstal... that's what i'm up to. And yes, I'm the same old me! A bit older. lol. take care everyone! thanks for checking in!

merch

2006-03-13T17:48:00.000-05:00

gonna take off for a bit maybe fly my ass up into the nothing sky just hang out there for awhile chat up a bird or two or even a whole flock lay down on their feather-bed backs take a ride to the moon maybe find artemis or diana ask for a piggyback ride settle down up there somewhere in space never been that high have you...?

should get a space cab maybe take a drive to the other side might take awhile but we've all got time to drive that's hard to believe when you're down here lookin' up easier to believe when you're up there lookin' down funny how that works...

yeah i think i oughta head up there for a while read a book maybe sing a song watch the weather network crack a cold monkey from the merch and just float around up there with the stars...

nice.

tv

2006-03-12T05:15:00.000-05:00

she’s loud tv watching again

skil saw screams ears split softly

try to think but it’s filthy loud

stomach groans can’t digest

reality tv dinners with prime time ribs

pay my mixed-breed canine to walk me home

bark out loud roll over got my bone

waltz

2006-03-10T22:50:00.000-05:00

the music begins softly

your plastic wrapped arms

sqeeze my frozen cheeks and lips

locking the latch

and sealing the kiss

through the haze I see your headless frame

waltzing with my frameless head

a cello concerto bounces somberly on the horizon

while the lights fade to black and

the music ends

the same way it began

worms

2006-03-08T18:53:00.000-05:00

"it's the space that i crave" an older gentleman says to an older gentlewoman as the sounds of traffic buzz by too cool to care about the dialogue unfolding between these two long time friends or lovers but the brakes in my head slam to a scraping stop sending my mind through that hazy maze of anorexic hallways that ultimately lead to my past...

"it's the space that i crave" that line repeating in my mind flashing in my mind waltzing in my mind i'm at a bus stop or maybe i'm waiting at a train station or sitting in a park i'm not sure but it's early morning and an older gentleman sits with an older gentlewoman they sit together too close to be friends but too distant to be lovers they sit on a time-stained bench that has been marked repeatedly by the signs and symbols of urban tribes and their leaders...

"it's the space i crave" that line there's something in that line but what - i want to speak but the closet is cluttered i stumble over trash and litter and a half consumed bottle of something i want to lean over to the older gentleman and say something like excuse me sir pardon me but you appear to be a man of integrity a man of honour a dignified classified certified honest gentleman and pardon me for listening but i really enjoyed your history lesson thank you very much...

thank you for camulus thank you for mars and thank you for montu and thank you for ares thank you for the sumerians the mycaeneans and the minoans thank you for the egyptians the greeks and the romans and thank you for the catholics the muslims the anglicans and the jews thank your for all the teachers and all the preachers thank your for all the states and all the churches of all denominations thank you for race and any other reason we have been given to discrminate against our own thank your for laws and thank you for competition thank you for money and for power thank you for oil and diamonds thank you for the third world thank you for italy austria and germany thank you for france russia and england thank you for japan thank you for einstein and the atomic bomb thank you for america...

i've said too much now and thought too little but now that i have invested myself in this particular literary arrangement i do feel the need to speak to you older gentleman because i'm feeling confused frustrated and a tad unsettled by your commentary and it's important for me to say this because i found your insight to be very profound and quite extraordinary but it bothered me at the same time so if you don't mind i'd like to borrow a few words from your portable lexicon because the well on my shoulders has run dry...

i don't feel that it is wise or prudent given these cramped circumstances to make a statement like the one you've made here today in the company of this woman who looks gentle enough but given the opportunity i magine that she could and should and probably will annihilate you later on or squash you with her silence for having made such a dim witted remark because dammit she's looking for the same thing as you

don't you see? it's true she wants the same space as you and so do i and so does everybody else in the world because we can't all live in the swamp we can't all live in the gutter even though you may think othewise i'm here to tell you that the people want out - just look at their fly stained cheeks look at the children with the adult eyes they want out they want to climb out of the dirt out of the dump out of the despair look man just look

don't you understand older gentleman that the thing that you want you can't have because a long time ago a number of people decided that all of the space in the world could be taken by a singular "somebody" but never never never could it all be taken by a collective "everybody" - they really did they wrote that in a document or maybe a hundred documents who knows but they wrote that somewhere and those are the facts and facts are facts and that's a fact even if it's true that you need fiction to create real life stories...

all the space in the world isn't for "everybody" they wrote and i'm not sure what they wrote it with but i imagine they would have used something like ink or blood or some kind of harmonius blend of fingernails and feces - they painted their abstratct documents all over the trees and the plants and they sprayed it all over the lakes and the rivers and even into the air we breathe they put it in our heads they stuffed it between our ears they jammed it into our brains they forced it down down down until our grandfather's grandfather's grandfather's couldn't take it anymore so they just gave in do you see they just accepted it and carried on until everyone finally forgot everything...

but now as that hazy maze of anorexic hallways goes to sleep the space between yourself and the worm gets smaller and that slippery chameleon called history opens its fiery eyes eager to accompany the earthdweller back into the dark chilly hole...

so please i beg of you older gentleman rely on your experience and your wise saws when you listen to the people and when you listen to the people rely on your history and your culture and when you think about your history and your culture don't be so quick to discard that old eyepiece because your pocketwatch can't fit in your eyes and your eyes are too delicate to fit into your dusty old pocket...

(there is a bus stop or a train station or a park bench or something like that at centre stage and it is occupied by an older gentleman and an older gentlewoman the traffic buzzes by too cool to care)

older gentleman:

it's space that i crave

(long pause)

older genlewoman:

space?

older gentleman:

that's right

(longer pause - the worms dig deeper leaving a space to be filled at a later date by some other person place or thing)
end.

a silent smile

2006-03-07T16:00:00.000-05:00

i know this girl who takes photographs of people places and things and this is her self portrait it's very nice i think and you probably will too i wonder if that's a key around her neck and if so i wonder what she has locked up maybe her house or maybe the door to her eyes and ears or maybe something else all together but i digress as i was saying i know this girl who takes photographs of people places and things and this is her self portrait it's very nice i think and you probably will too the thing is i've gone and posted this photo without permission so it may only be available for your eyes and ears for a short time depending on the weather in her head when her eyes and ears see her lips and neck posted for all of your eyes and ears to feel - it's a nice photo don't you think i like her silent smile

animal

2006-03-07T05:13:00.000-05:00

don’t know how I ever got stuck

don’t remember that clearly

got bad memories but I wipe ‘em off with hotel room towels

kiss you in the eye but

your stumbling into mirrors again

asking me if I wanna fuck

we turn animal

lemon yellow

2006-03-06T19:00:00.000-05:00

i was sad the other day because i remember how it used to be when the sun would pour through your window and i had to squint to see through your blinds

i almost cried or sighed because those words and my thoughts which are sometimes one and the same began to sing in harmony and it sounded the way complimentary colours look when they're placed together side by side

the music lifted me out of my slumbering state seducing me with beautiful images crisp and cool the outlines of small things tiny microscopic things thickened with black animated lines and it was beautiful because all of the details and the detours of our past which once wielded sharp deadly talons had for the moment been declawed

in the place of those frail withered claws i found a series of blueprints that were carefully drafted and professionally crafted i could see the stars i could see the sun i could feel it's light bathing my face and forehead and i wanted very much to smile and i likely would have had it not been for the window and i likely would have had it not been for the bug crawling on the screen and i likely would have had it not been for your reflection floating behind me hovering inside me on one side of the glass or the other

for the window in this drama plays the magnifying glass with conviction and my face and forehead show great flexibility in their portrayal of the bug crawling on the screen and then there is you the antagonist or the protagonist it all depends on your perspective but of course we've been down that road before and after all who better to play the lead? who else more determined to hold the glass a little longer despite the first signs of smoke rising from my jaw

very rudely the theatrics of the moment stake their claim at the crest of my hill and the romantic puppetmaster who guides us in our dreams and fantasies peels off his emerald mask revealing nothing but the foul grotesque face of nostalgia - i should have known - but there's no time for that now and besides whenever someone should have known they probably did know but chose instead to forget

the fraudulent menace steps foward again and i step back as he steps forward i feel his eyes examining my teeth and my eyelashes as we stare at one another for what seems like eleven years but maybe ten or close i've been here before it's not me he's looking for it's my fear - like all creatures of the night this one feasts on fear i want to stand my ground but i'm too busy feeling the fool for allowing this nightmare to play itself out again and again and again

i want to be strong but my knees shake which is a really bad thing because a house is only as strong as its foundation and if my knees are wobbling now it's just a matter of time before the the pelvis drops signalling the beginning of this ill timed avalanche because once the pelvis drops on one side the spinal chord is soon to follow followed by the shoulder followed by the atlas vertebrae followed by the jaw and even the cranium which of course is surrounded by the dural membrane or something like that

i'm frightened but even in my state of despair and desperaton i think about embracing him i think about inviting him inside my head for a quick visit i think about offering him food and wine and i think about killing him with love or with honesty or affection i want to look him in the eyes and tell him that his work with me is finished it's over i want to tell him to mind his own business all of these things i want to say but i can't becasue i'm afraid and he knows it - the lemon yellow deathdrop squeezes itself against my lens

the tear had been gathering in my eye for some time maybe eleven years or ten or close and as it began to bubble my eyelashes began to quiver and tried to hold it in but crying isn't like peeing you know and soon my lower lip went the way of my eyelashes and the liquid bubble too big now for it's nest began to force its way out of the duct begging for a smooth delivery - but as always sweet reality imposes her will on the salty teardrop and the sour red carpet is rolled up once again to make room for the anticipated delivery

the first moments of life are difficult for the deathdrop because the sunlight is pouring in through the blinds squeezing it's citrus juice in my eyes so i try to catch the drop before it's too late but the sun plays its role in this particular drama with an esteemed sense of timing the teardrop glimmers in the sunlight leaving a bloody streak down the side of my face and i am left to gasp as the villain spreads his wings

i stand in awe my scream is of the silent variety if you know what i mean and in an instant the beast is in my throat and in my eyes he dances around my head flapping wildly pecking away at my fickle suit of armour making a mockery of my pride

i cry like a baby unable to breathe i need to be slapped on the back someone needs to reach into my throat with their fingers or with a pair of pliers and rip the beast out because he's inside me now maybe in my head? i'm not sure but i'm not thinking straight so i imagine so - i'm overwhelmed by the weight of this woeful wingspan and as the forces of time come crashing down a great crunch seals my fate -

sunlight pours through my window splashing my face with warmth as the lowly bug crawling on your window peers at me from behind the blinds i wonder if the bug is in front of me or behind me and after a moment of thought i conclude that it is before me whatever that means i look over my sleepy shoulder half expecting the unexpected but half unexpectedly i find the expected and it gives me a great sense of lemon yellow pleasure to find nothing there but the sun and the window and the lowly bug crawling on the screen of my window

letter to the editor

2006-03-04T15:25:00.000-05:00

take your punctuation take it and make your own dogma insert the bullets the commas the colons whereever you want to - need to - and make a meaning that works for somebody anybody everybody else - tie it up with a pretty bow and grade it accordingly - go on make a meaning out of me - make a meaning that works for somebody anybody everybody else - do what ya gotta do - grind me through your editing machine scratch me with your pens and pencils strike me with your hammers and your buttons and your need to delete to deprive to disguise - wrap me from head to toe in bold parenthesis and send me down the river - wrap me up from head to toe with your metal brackets and strap me to your chair - hypnotize me with your swift numbers slash me backwards and forward soak my palms in ink smudge my memories smear my fantasies declare war on silence fill the air with panic destroy the peace smash the space between my head and yours fill the sky with uncertainty and insecurity - control me with your capital letters control me with your perfection and your punctuation control me with your quotations your queries your questions control me with your rules control me with your grammar laws control me with your linguistic secret police control me with your commentary control me with your bold faced eyes or lies or whatever you feel like calling them control me with your symbols control me with your signs - teach me fear - go on - make a machine out of me

monologue

2006-03-04T01:40:00.000-05:00

here's a small sample of a play that i'm working on called 'ending up' - it's a simple thing really about a guy and a gal who are stranded on a little boat - outta gas no food you get the idea - this part takes place about 2/3 of the way through.

Annie: That’s right! Me! I wrote that line.

Lanny: Oh yeah?

Annie: Yeah.

Lanny: When where how?

Annie:

I scratched it all over the place a long time ago. I scratched it all over and you asked me not to, but I did anyway - and then you told me that we’d figure it all out even though we couldn’t figure our way out of a brown paper bag but you still told me that we would - and then when I realized that we wouldn’t I wrote it again but this time I wrote it all over everything I could see and when you finally stopped to notice that I’d ruined everything that you ever wanted to own you still told me that we just had to figure it out - and then you sat down and took all of your useless belongings and you tried to figure out how you could salvage something that was so fucked up and when you finally put everything together again you actually thanked me for it - you thanked me over and over and over and over and over and then you told me that I was skipping - that I was repeating myself - and when I told you that people do that from time to time you told me that I was a liar and I told you that you were an asshole but that wasn’t enough no you wanted more so then I told you that you were stupid and foolish and that you would probably end up being alone for the rest of your life - and then you were happy because you finally got me to say what you wanted to hear all along - alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone I said that a million times I think and I wonder from time to time if I shouldn’t have said that another six or eight times just to drive the point home - and then you laughed and told me that sticks and stones could break your bones so I called you an asshole and yes you thanked me over and over and over and over and over and then you told me that I was skipping - that I was repeating myself and when I told you that people do that from time to time you told me that I was a liar and I told you that you were an asshole but that wasn’t enough no you wanted more so then I told you that you were stupid and foolish and that you would probably end up being alone for the rest of your life and when I tried to explain that people repeat from time to time - things in this world just repeat from time to time - it’s just the way things work in this world - they repeat over and over and over and over - they repeat - you finally stopped and thanked me for having created such an accurate - it’s just the way things in this world work - for having created such an accurate blueprint of your fucking mind - so when you say - things just repeat sometimes and so do you - so when you say it’s just the way things work - it’s just the way things are - when you use - when you say - when you tell me that everything's all fucked up - when you steal lines like that it makes me wonder how I ever got stuck with a screwed up useless unoriginal script like the one you’ve written for me. Now where were we!!?? Where were we!!??

Lanny: I...I...

Annie: Where were we!!?? Lanny, where were we?

Lanny: I... when?

Annie: Before we were here... where were we?

Lanny: I... I don't remember. I don't remember anything anymore.

dad

2006-03-03T19:32:00.000-05:00

my dad's 60 on the 4th of march and that's strange because dads aren't really supposed to be 60 are they my understanding was that my dad didn't really have an age he was more like dad years old and it's a bizarre feeling really because i look back and see my dad in my mind you know when i was a kid and he appears to be the same age as he is now but the reminder the point the subject is clear to me that time won't stop or freeze or hang suspended anywhere but in my hard drive

hey pop, gotcha a present today even though i know you'd be happier without - i get that now - i think - yeah, i do cause presents aren't your thing and that's a culture thing that's a history thing that's a blood thing - but i get it now i think becase if you can't find presents on the table then surely they've gotta be found somewhere around it

somewhere in the silence i think somewhere between our organs not under them or in them but somewhere in between somewhere in between the flesh that covers my bones and the flesh the covers your bones somewhere between all the shit that covers me up and all the shit that covers you up somewhere in there lies the space between and in that space there's a gift a present so you don't need to worry about all that anymore as it appears that i've come to some sort of understanding and besides i don't think i wanna trade in the space between for new shirt or sweater or anything like that - i'm covered up enough thanks

i think i remember a time when i was younger and you and mum were working like hell to feed all of us kids but i didn't maybe couldn't comprehend or appreciate any of it so i spent my time wishing you spoke better english and that your hands weren't dirty when you came home from work - i'll never be like that i said to myself never - and you said it too just not with words and look at me now my hands don't speak and my english is dirty

you know something old man it's funny that you've lived the last 30 years of your life trying to put me in a position or a spot in life where i wouldn't have to be like you and here i am now - and wouldn't ya know it - i'm alot like you, i think - but hey that's a culture thing that's a history thing that's a blood thing.

beckett on film

2006-03-02T22:23:00.000-05:00

i made another purchase today even though my idigo order has not yet arrived. i couldn't resist. this one is to die for, really. i ordered the 4 dvd samuel beckett on dvd series. all 19 of his plays done on film. i'm interested in 'krapp's last tape', directed by atom egoyan and starring john hurt. there's apparently an interesting interpretation of 'catastrophe', a play that i directed a while back, starring harold pinter... this one is directed by david mamet... at any rate, it looks wild and i'm losing sleep over it so, with any luck, i'll have it by march break... ah, little things, you know.

montebello memories

2006-03-02T00:05:00.000-05:00

Here are a few images that were created when I was living on Montebello. These fine folk were my roommates for a year. A great year, it was. We are scattered about for the most part now, so I thought that I'd post this in memory of my time living on Montebello. Of course, all of our faces have been touched up 'a bit' in photoshop with the hope of removing unsightly blemishes. Jackson, wherever you are, yours is still my favourite.

neil

2006-03-01T17:32:00.000-05:00

the next time you're sitting alone in a cafe somewhere thinking about everything or nothing and the song helpless by neil young begins to play softly in the background take a moment or some time to listen and just think holy fuck this song kicks my ass

gregor

2006-02-28T16:29:00.000-05:00

it's monday in my mind another monday but not manic like the monday made memorable by the music of many mondays ago - no those mondays are gone

they've passed me by - taken their rightful place in the shadows of the past -

this monday morning hits me like a german blitzkrieg

my body jerks my neck strains and my eyes crack open - bulging and throbbing and desperately craving a vacation from this particular body that has allowed them to be treated with such a malicious disregard for peace

almost as a retaliatory measure, my poor eyeballs retreat quickly and hide under their covers, trembling like little children left home alone to fend for themselves in the midst of a particularly nasty electric storm

there they lay for quite some time quivering madly as the sounds of yelling and shrieking and the perpetual snapping of a far off whip provide the requesite underscore - without any regard for timing or rhythm - not to mention the neighbours

the soundscape is whimsical this morning, coming and going and coming going but it subsides when someone angelic arrives - another one of my subconscious episodes begins or ends here as she tucks my eyeballs back into bed humming a sweet lullaby into my ears

she blows warm air into my eardrums and the warmth charges through the corridor of my mind but something about it isn't right i remember thinking that maybe the song was out of tune but maybe i'm just too blind to hear or too deaf to see or something like that

but no, there was something wrong because after a short while the warm air turned cold and someone angelic began to revel in my moment of vulnerability - how weak we are when we sleep - she continues to blow air into my ears as a i sleep but the warm breeze turns into a blistering cold wind and the temperature in the room which i imagine had hovered somewhere around comfortable degrees celcius plummets to very uncomfortable degrees celcius as the windchill picks up and and the hail begins, clobbering me in my state of vulnerability, leaving welts on my ears and toes and eyelids... with eyes closed i see someone i recognize she was angelic but now she's something else not the opposite but close and she's staring right through my eyelids daring me to open my eyes

with closed eyes i ask her kindly, pardon me someone angelic, but would you mind not blowing that cold wind into my fingertips, i'm trying to sleep - she hesitates she steps back she levitates she steps back she gravitates she steps back and in a second or an hour she assumes her rightful position in the air that i breathe

time warps at this point and a few seconds or hours later the firestorm returns reminding me that my eternal rest day has been postponed - to the dismay of my poor eyeballs, lol.

slowly my rusty eyelids grind their way into the back of my skull and the rest of the machine begins to churn accordingly - the hands stretch and the spine elongates and the pelvis thrusts while the toes point sharply in the opposite direction of my mind - for a brief moment i fear that i've waken up as the protagonist Gregor, in Kafka's famous short story - this proves to be false and that makes me happy

letter to everyone who knows about something that i don't

2006-02-28T01:57:00.000-05:00

if it's true that in the pursuit of higher knowledge one learns more and more about less and less until in the end he knows the most about nothing i say teach me more - teach me everything there is to know about nothing

words

2006-02-28T01:21:00.000-05:00

i look at my reflection - don't we all from time to time and i try to feel it instead of simply trying to see it if you know what i mean - if you know what i mean then you know what i mean but you may not so i'll expand... maybe for your benefit but more likely for mine

i look at my reflection for some time and soon the image begins to blur and through the haze a body forms and it's yours i think whoever you are i see your body in my mind it floats and it's headless but not in any kind of horrific way it's just missing, like a mannequin, but regardless i look quickly now at your body because it's razor sharp and it extends like a harpoon or a missile or something like that - i look at it and see you and i think you see me see you and while you've caught me staring i might as well stop for awhile and say hello but i'm naive because i don't realize the implications of such a word and so i say it again and that one little word leads me into a state of nervousness and paranoia and before long another slips out followed by another and another and another and i can't stop myself now i begin to speak in clear sentences at first but the rush or the buzz hits hard and so i reach into my lexicon obsessively for relief and i stab myself in the thigh with my literary epi pen and the adrenaline surges through my veins and i can feel my whole body pulse now and i begin to speak more and more and more and now the prose starts and the monologues pour and my grasp of the english language is being put to the test because i only have so much so many arrangements at my disposal and i'm worried now because i'm on a roll i'm flying high but fear leaks into my delivery as i begin to realize that the second i stop talking fate will crudely intervene and ask me to dance but i don't have the willpower to deny her this time or any time for that matter and besides all that i have two left feet and it makes me very nervous to be seen dancing so i talk faster now and i'm ripping through my dialogue my heart is beating madly now but to my dismay the words begin to tail off the momentum drops significantly and i'm crawling now as i try to find a new arrangement of my old words but i struggle and i'm dragging myself now and finally the weight of the world is too much and my body drops to the floor gasping for air desperate for breath a new thought is what i need a new word or phrase there's nothing there but one thing dammit i've already used that too many times but against my will it seeps out and i whisper a word that was once new many years ago and i say it very close to you i breathe it into your ear i think with the hope that it will touch your toes - it's all too much i say hello and then i repeat that again and again until finally there is silence...

a rustle at the door reminds me that fate is waiting on the dancefloor...

i look quickly now around me and i think i should speak again so i think carefully before speaking and in the silence i feel all of your inner strength might energy whatever begin to bubble just below the surface of my shiny skin suit are you doing that to me? i struggle to find a word or two but nothing comes the proper arrangement escapes me i look at you differently now and maybe even in ways that are foreign to you now or unfamiliar to you now or unfamiliar to me now or unfamiliar to whoever or whomever or whatever but i want to say something i need to speak because i understand my options but i only come up with silent riddles a paradigm of my times you might say... but this time nothing comes...

another rustle at the door as fate communicates her impatience - but i'm not ready yet, please

another five or ten minutes on even one more second will do but that second has passed now and i can't hang on to it much longer so quickly now i rack my mind for that thing i've been dying to say because the bubbles are forming more rapidly now they're dancing now and floating now to the top or the bottom i guess it all depends on how you look at it but i'm here to tell you i'm here to say that i'm with you i promise i won't let you down i won't let you fail or fall or falter or anything like even though i know that's a bold faced lie how could i say that how could i think that no time to beat myself up i say i have business to tend to look just look at the business i'm involved with right now and if you don't believe what you see try to feel it try to feel how quickly they multiply now, the bubbles, they are multiplying by the hundreds now and the thousands now look quickly now because those hundreds and thousands of bubbles are morphing into millions and billions now and they're not dancing and floating now, no they're not they're doing a whole lot more than that they're scattering and scampering and screaming now and dammit just look at them all now -- look how savagely they move look how maniacally they behave and if you can't see it go quickly now go quickly and find a mirror now or find a puddle or window or a stainless steel anything and look for me in your reflection somewhere but it's gotta happen quickly now because the millions and the billions are cascading now they're sherading now they're persuading now and fuck look quickly now because the machine is cascading the machine is sherading the machine is persuading the machine is awaiting a sign a symbol a word - look at it now - try to feel it now - that's all - that's it.

radical thinkers

2006-02-28T01:07:00.000-05:00

a nice day at work was had today - i have a friend who is at university in teacher's college - he's my student teacher which is pretty cool anyway he tipped me off on this series of books that i got pretty excited about so i ordered them - it's a writing series called "radical thinkers". check it out and indigo.com if interested.

theodor adorno - reflections on a damaged life
louis althusser - for marx
jean beaudrillard - the system of objects noberto bobbio - liberalism and democracy
jacques derrida - the politics of friendship terry eagleton - the function of criticism
franco moretti - signs taken for wonders
chantal mouffe - the return to the political
jacqueline rose - sexuality in the field of vision
paul virilo - the information bomb
raymond williams - culture and materialism
slavoj zizek - the metastases of enjoyment

i'm excited about this. i've not read some of these writers so i'm looking forward to having them at my fingertips. where to begin? where to begin? ah well, back to work... i'll post more about this series in the future.

monday morning

2006-02-27T09:54:00.000-05:00

it is monday february the something and it takes me some time to get going - no thanks to newton and his laws about laws i am able to rise and not fall even though there is more to be learned when one is able to fall and not rise but now my digression leads to regression and that isn't necessarily a good thing because it's progression that i'm after i think even though progression continues to lead me to the suggestion that time is passing me by.

i rise to me feet - it's 6:06 now or 6:06:32 if i wanted to be real precise but precision lost its edge a while back so i'm just as happy these days rounding up or rounding down

visions of my old dog slip into my mind as i shuffle from my bedroom to the bathroom. i smile in the mirror as i think of the little guy waking up at the same time as me in some other place with some other people - funny how it works out - maybe he's pacing or jumping up and down or barking at some stray cat or laughing with a squirrel friend or trying to befriend a neighbourhood skunk who likely isn't keen on reciprocating his advances lol, jesus.

i think i'll avoid that unlucky path for now and embark upon a new adventure a rebirth a new day is upon me now a new beginning a rebirth a new chapter or a rebirth here i am again and even though words like these sometimes are confused or mixed up with melodrama it is still safe to call this day or this time or this morning a pleasant morning a cloudy morning a swift morning

i breathe, exhale, breathe, exhale, and when the first signs of caffeine withdrawl expose themselves i stretch, smiling, thinking about my new found espresso addiction... ah the simple things. a smile a coffee a little car and a real nice job... i like my job but i'd do better not to think about it just yet. one thing at a time. for the next bit, i'll think about espresso... only espresso, lol. good day to all!

(photo taken by milica petkovic - check her out in my links)

goodbye and good luck

2006-02-26T21:59:00.000-05:00

thank you

thank you

k

night

night

(long pause - lights fade)

my friend

2006-02-26T21:24:00.000-05:00

my friend's grandmother is ninety one... she is sick and probably dying but don't be so sad because she started dying the day that she was born - at no point was life more abundant than at the moment of conception but this is too philosophical... she is old and my friend is sad i think but she is lucky because she gets to watch it happen and many don't - she gets to learn so that one day when she is in that same place she will be able to reflect and remember her particular experience with her own grandmother - what a rich experience that will be -

this isn't the same for me as i do not know my grandmother and my other grandparents passed when i was very young - it's difficult to comprehend the importance of these relationships in our lives - their purpose that is - perhaps they exist so that we can prepare ourselves as we age for what will inevitably befall us - how lucky those with familial connections are - not just because they are loved but because they are given an opportunity to watch those that love them age and die and the cycle rotates and at some point it will be their turn and likely they will look at those around them with marvelous eyes -

the dying will muse upon the living and somewhere between the two of them an incomprehensible number of thoughts words reactions reflections decisions choices etc... will be communicated - without so much as a word being shared - maybe it will be delivered in the form of a crooked smile or the quick blink of an eye or a tender touch of the hand or an irrational chuckle or grunt or whatever but in that moment there will surely be deep deep reflection as the child sees through the eyes of the parent the parent sees through the eyes of the grandparent and the grandparent, completing the cycle, sees through the eyes of the child, remembering a time that once was.

icarus

2006-02-18T03:03:00.000-05:00

icarus icarus spread your wings and fly you progressive plane fly fly fly through the thick air and the dusty clouds fly fly fly through the atmosphere and just dangle there somewhere in space before flying once more past the stars the moons the planets the radiant light is upon you it begs you icarus to spread your wings and fly fly fly - fly straight into the gleaming inferno for it is there that you will surely meet your fate - shrug off the flames icarus and kiss the sun with your gentle wax lips

visions of johanna

2006-02-18T02:50:00.000-05:00

love(d) i think love(d) but could be admired desired required or conspired with or against: a very minor, mostly insignificant but undeniable moment of weakness approaching as this day nears an end leaving a crack in the door through which i imagine i will peer to see the remains of the days spent fighting spitting kicking and yet a small very minor, mostly insignificant but undeniable moment of weakness approaches as this day nears an end and another day struggles to force open its heavy eye -

happy here where i am who i am when i am what i am but sentimental i am who i am. so much like you in some ways enough ways to know that if you're not feeling the same it's close so i feel better knowing that i feel the same way you feel that's really cool because it allows me to trust my instincts somewhat and in separation we have found harmony in some ways because somewhere in all that there wasn't enough to hold my stuff together with yours -

i do feel that the confusion is understood by one only and by only one likely you cause you are probably me in ways and i am you in ways and when two folks compete for one and only one they both understood fully and completely that they must move on- though it can be somewhat difficult at times especially when considering new romances and seeing old faces and trying on new clothes and feeling strange places

in the new and in the climax one peers through the door half heartedly wondering what lurks beyond - and that one will sit for some time longing to be caught staring but not wanting to be seen seeing -

at a new place now mamma, feeling different older wiser and more brilliant everyday i am - but still even when excessively inspired new smells are overwhelmed by old ones and sadly in this here moment of honesty i share my moment with you and me at the same time because it couldn't have been any other way - careful now babe, a moment of weakness in times like these could lead to a life of uncertainty and certainly my life has a degree of uncertainty but i am also certain - no not certain but pretty sure that these moments of weakness will pass -

it was different this time - more right - more sensible more love lost - maybe the last bit not sure and i continue to wonder if i merely try to convince myself that learning life lessons sometimes isn't worth the cost of admission but is usually worth at least a quick glimpse from the cheap seats

stand up son the world is waiting for you to move to straighten your spine to straighten out your jaw and your teeth and your toes - once there the bow will wait drawn waiting to fire your length a long distance and through it all as i sit wondering about my life in this happy moment of introversion my chief concern is whether i'll hit the send button above or simply delete this mess and file it somewhere in my e-mind with the hope of waking up short of the required number of brain cells to dabble even with the vaguest of memories

because it is the memories that tickle me now in this very minor, mostly insignificant but undeniable moment of weakness approaching as this day nears an end leaving a crack in the door - through which i imagine i will peer to see the remains of the days spent fighting spitting kicking wondering again now if i'll hit send or delete but choose to hit send - cause you're really me and i'm really you in some ways so you'll probably get this in ways that i wouldn't or would anyway so i don't worry so much because we both sit here probably thinking the same things -

i'll see you again at some point in my life and this entire caption will filter my mind in a millisecond all these thoughts and others that i could never conjure up regardless of how much i tried - but i look forward to that day and wonder if donnie the dog remembers the voice and knowing how odd it all is wondering wanting to see the poor guy but knowing that’s a real bad idea but wishing it wasn't - a bad idea isn't a bad thing but acting on a bad idea is usually a really bad thing - he's in my head though -that guy- and in my head is a good place to have him because all else would likely be misinterpreted anyway -

so i wait like you now for a day likely in the distant future when our voices are maybe crackling and high pitched and our bodies change into those of our parents and their parents and parts of their parents and fewer parts of their parents - and we acknowledge each other in ourselves and greet the parts of ourselves that we said goodbye to so long ago it is really something a neat thing because the change is here now here it is the change that one waits for so impatiently i feel the growth it's here and life is flowering in ways now it's weird so fuckin' weird - so strange to feel it happen to stare at me or you I’m not sure who I see in the mirror - is it me or you - and i stare for a long time such a long time examining my own facial features, remembering once again how i look and settling into my own skin again

i'm not sure exactly what to make of all of this but then again i've always been pretty bad at making sense of ordinary things so i try to document this really strange bizarre exciting introverted erotic inspirational night i'm having with an odd arrangement of words that probably shouldn't be shared with anybody but will likely be seen by everybody if not here at least on my face or in my body language the way i blink breathe laugh sing think reflect observe watch - most will know that it's wrong and will probably offer consolation i will likely nod and acknowledge and say i know and i might probably definitely certainly even believe it so now i write this in role a role i'm somewhat familiar with but not sure which role i play is more defined refined than the other because on this crazy night where my thoughts are snapping off my psyche like branches in a wind storm i put to rest the notions of right or wrong and follow my own advice for a very short moment -

this whole february 7 thing how did it happen how did it ever get so contrived strange the things we do - but one a year is better than none a year because life lives here at this place in these moments and it's nice sometimes to think but maybe not know exactly where but to at least know the general vicinity of life's permanent residence. my thoughts.