I’m Afraid

I’m Afraid

I’m afraid that it’ll be cliche
I’m afraid that it won’t be art
Maybe i’ll never be
Embroiled in controversy
Public enemy number one on the hit list
Something remiss? The look in your eye says
You’ll never be the first in line to buy
Because it’s just not good enough to be
Art, I’m afraid…that it’ll be cliche.

June 2009 – An experimental week without Facebook and Twitter

I declared last Sunday, on Facebook, that I would be going on Facebook hiatus. I didn’t say for how long, but in my mind, I’d be quitting FB and Twitter cold turkey for one week. I am 5 days into this experiment. I find myself resisting that URL address bar like an unsmoked half pack in the back upper corner of my closet, kept for emergency use only. Nagging at my mind every couple minutes. But mind you, I don’t smoke. Never have. I know my addictive personality well enough to not bother trying. Just thought it was an appropriate simile for habit breaking. But I haven’t faltered yet. Those links are everywhere, though. EVERYONE trying to be someone is on Twitter, to the point of ridiculosity. Well, not really…just businesses, oddly enough. CKNW, CNN, BBC Science, BBC Health, Daily Planet…(my personal favourites) …and there was that one week where everyone hopped the bandwagon at the same time. T’was an odd week.

But I couldn’t have picked a more interesting week to go FB/Twit free. I just couldn’t break the habit of thinking that my thoughts all needed to be expressed and thrown into some intangible online world, that, excepting global nuclear meltdown circumstances coinciding with the time of my death, will exist beyond me, providing that inactive accounts don’t get deleted after a certain period of time, and there isn’t a massive server crash affecting all the backup copies of my accounts…etc. SO…I took to writing down all my thoughts on index cards. GOD do I love index cards. For some reason of kinaesthetic x visual learning it works for me. And here are some of the thoughts that rampaged through a manic mind going through withdrawl. Actually, happily, this week seemed like one of those rare weeks that I wasn’t overly manic or depressive. Actually, no. I take that back. I may have thrown a temper tantrum on monday. But after that things seemed to clear up, mood wise. Hopefully it lasts a little longer this time.

From the index cards:
June 23 1700h: Fascinating that so many things – economic phenomena etc. can be described/explained by little lines on a graph. Really cool.
June 24 10ooh: How the hell did I injure my knee? Left inside tendon/ligament thingy sore upon awakening. Did I sleepwalk?
1110h: There are a lot of funny looking asian men in ECON103.
1230h: I really enjoy talking to professors in office hours.
1345h: Correction: I enjoy talking to ungrumpy professors in office hours.
1400h: For every short and cute asian woman that exists, there exists an equally short, not-so-cute-asian man.
1415h: When you can’t figure me out: The secret to women is that we say things we don’t mean and we mean things we don’t say. But not all the time.
1415h: Today I feel very happy and calm and content.
1710h: I am quite possibly…floored. On gradebook, if “MT” stands for midterm, I just got 34/34, i.e. 100%. WTF?! In CMPT120! And so far I have 100% in the course! This has Never Happened Before. Not even close. Never.
1734h: Just discovered my flash animations don’t work on the CSIL computers. Not pleased.
1756h: The secret to not being frustrated and irritated all the time…getting laid.
June 25 1000h: Farrah Fawcett died. Cancer. Brings out my fears. And Jon and Kate Gosselin are divorcing. Not that that matters to anyone except their kids. I hope deep inside that all people who die are at peace. I hope the suicide bombers and war criminals, and serial killers given the death penalty are all at peace. I hope the man who believes he will be rewarded with 72 virgins in the afterlife gets just that. If that’s the best thing he had going for him, I really hope he gets it.
1315h: I just get so fucking agitated at jerks like the guy who made a left turn from behind me while I was halfway across the street during my pedestrian walk light who then told me to look for traffic. It’s my walk sign, fucker! Concentrate on your own fucking half baked fucking driving, idiot!
1350h: playing piano really gets me unagitated. New “easy piano” piece yeah that disney song “A whole new world” from Aladdin. Love it and it’s just so beautiful and takes me away to a different time and place and imaginary life. Need to get a piano of my own so i can stop renting rehearsal space.
1425h: Low F + high GAC chord. Quite a nice way to end a song.
1700h: I had a breakthrough at singing class today. Lowered larynx + space + focus. Singing the exercise “Me-lia”. Letting go. Throwing it away. Fuck yeah. And going to McD’s inbetween rehearsing and class and thinking to enjoy fully and be present doing anything because it might be the last time I do that thing – gosh Steve cried last week when he ate a chicken nugget, having not had one for so long, and thinking that it might be his last. So I went and bought chicken nuggets today to remind myself to live. I couldn’t bring him any, though because he’s fasting, preparing for his colonoscopy tomorrow. And then I came home to find that Michael Jackson had died. What a day. What a week to choose to be facebook & Twitter free.
June 26 1117h: Watched Confessions of a Shopaholic and it wasn’t good. I am disappointed because I had been looking foward to that one for quite some time. Movies and people that try too hard to be funny are rarely really funny. The Make More Money scene ended up on the cutting room floor. All the essential bits of the story that made it a charming and funny story got cut out of the script. Nobody is sympathetic towards a woman who spends too much money (GUILTY!), but somehow the book made you identify so strongly with the protagonist, and the movie just did not succeed. Director needs lessons in directing comedy.
1440h: Been at Burnaby General Hospital since 1230. Steve’s colonoscopy today. yay. One year since we’ve been here for one the last time and we’re still where we began. Not pleased. Hopefully some answers.
1700h: +1 Medication for Steve. Prednisone. At least it’s cheap. + Humira starting ~2 weeks pending all clear from upcoming “urgent” MRI. Apparently the colonoscopy looked very different from last time. Some serious side fx on prednisone i hear. fuck.
1745h: Found out Lorena Gale (Priestess Elosha on BSG) passed away on June 21st. Shocked and saddened. Cancer. Found out Google, Twitter and Wikipedia etc crashed yesterday from too much traffic/too many edits. Again, I re-iterate. What a week to be Twitter and Facebook free.
1800h: Realized that I have this lifelong pattern of disillusionment with stuff. Note to self: write blog entry about disillusionment.
2143h: Made myself a little jar with little 1/8 index card chips inside with things to do when I don’t know what to do. Will pick one each time I find myself not knowing what to do and be just one minute more productive. Each task can be completed within one minute. I like this jar already. Note to self: write blog entry about this jar.

cleaning the attic – stream of consciousness 05

freeze. you, no me.
there is no way out of here,
not even if you try. really really hard,
and let your mind wander way down
floating in neutral buoyancy all the
way down down down till you gently hit
bottom because of the extra rocks you sewed into the
pockets of your calico dress.
leave not the wheels of freedom turning
they will turn not churn for as long as
their metallic springs allow until it
kicks
and kinks
and catches
a knot
a hairball
an anything at all
that it doesn’t like and then it will
complain to no end i forgot!
It makes me mad you know!
Just some things that don’t
happen
like they should and then one gets hung up
on them it’s not a good thing
to happen
it happens
it happens
and then one day it all stops.

and then it’s boring after that so maybe i’ll just enjoy the anger while it lasts.

no more alcohol for me it just
makes me angry
and moody
and generally yucky to be around
a few hours later. feed me celery.

i don’t like celery.

work on your verbal diarrhea until
you know what you are all about
is the lesson i learned that day. and that i don’t know as much as
i think
i know.

and you know way less than YOU think you know.
what a pain sometimes.

growing old before your age says you’re old
that is really really unfortunate

but no one is
perfect

and the more wrinkles you have
the more interesting you look.
I like wrinkles.

Wrinkles and smiles go very well together.

Cleaning the attic – Stream of consciousness 04

I don’t know what to write. yes i do i know way better than i think i do or are willing to admit. am willing to admit. it’s all from where you come from, naturally without reservation without good intentions the best intentions are those that you think you don’t know but are willing to give a try anyway. speedily reading through novels, devouring ravenously like a raven dead on the sidewalk in the middle of winter, the tragedy, money isn’t everything but taxes seem to be. such a dichotomy it doesn’t quite make sense or snesse heads or tails of anything. treat me well and i’ll treat you well and if you don’t treat me with respect then i still might treat you well, or i may decide to make your life hell. why is my cycle timed to the moon? is it just coincidence? lucky guess? it’s like when coral in the ocean release all their gametes in one day all at once in the ocean and it’s just a field day for coral reproduction all around the world…maybe it’s like that too for us, when women all get fertile at once with the moon, but it can’t be because babies are born at every which time night day 15th, 30th and the 24th. life just doesn’t seem to differentiate that way. Maybe babies are just late or just early. refocus on nothing and trick your lenses to stretch and let go and observe the effects that result. then close your eyes, breathe, and find your centre because that is the surefire trick to finding a smile on the inside. it grows and then you can’t help but laugh out loud. and the worry goes away. and all of a sudden the air shines a little brighter and nothing feels quite so heavy anymore.

where is the desire…

…to sleep?

am i tired and not sleepy
or
am i sleepy and not tired?

either way
I say

surplus them all.
drown them in a crashing wave
shoot them
aim for the lighthouse
miss.

heather grey fading to black
i seek you.

faraway apartments with your lights still on
i just saw your light turn on
the brightest of them all
three floors from the top
do you share my thoughts
do you have to run to the bathroom
do you suffer from nocturia
why are your lights on

brighter in my blackout than i am blinded
framed by the darkest rims of light
induce the illusion
bring the rain
the inappropriateness
of that phrase
is well documented
in the peak.

new pillows lined up in pairs.
old waterbottles lined up in pairs.
curtains tied up in pairs.
to let the light in.
202 the time is it the right time
everything keeps turning
fighting to stay still

the constant tap of the drip
has driven me to edges in the months passing
enough to make me move
to twitch to scream to tap right back
because i think it’s you tapping on the other side of the wall
a faceless neighbour in a rental building
but no it’s not you
it’s not you my faceless neighbour
it’s not your pencil tapping your desk
it’s not you with a small hammer at all hours of the night
it’s not my keyboard
it’s not the right harmonic frequency to shatter
no they don’t match
they just come and go and sometimes they come back and that’s when they decide to renovate.

just let me continue
to peck and write without thinking
to let my fingers do the walking
do the talking
to the docking fo the ship
about to set sail to the vast unknown
where anything is possible
where nothing hides behind closed doors
where everything is seen. everybody

your light is still on.
are you on vacation? have you set your light on a timer
and mixed up am pm it’s not simple
i admit it’s not
you’re just a small candle
brighter than the other ones in the low horizon sky.

i can’t see you but i can see your light.
go to sleep now.
go to sleep now
you’ve had your fill of dream for a waking day

it’s not that deep
it’s not as deep as you think
close your eyes and sing
a lullaby for lucy recall everything from the past seasons change
they must fade they all fade and when they do
i remember them the next time
in brilliant detail in glow

be peaceful. be poisoned.
be awake when you are called and not before.
cross my path and i’ll cross yours

in dreams we’ve got hours to talk
don’t frustrate me

fly.

Cleaning the Attic – Stream of Conciousness 03.

you must eat. eat. eat. no i can’t i’m not hungry. I don’t want to be hungry. yes i do, because hungry means everything is alright, i am normal and the world can spin again. no i don’t yes i do, anything you can do i can do better, i can do anything better than you. illucid restlessness, symptomatic of somebody who doesn’t know what to do with herself right now. it’s not that far down. shhh. don’t tell anybody. i’m sure it’s a passing phase. well then, why does this passing phase pass through my life every few months? This is crazy! No can do. Maybe I’m just nervous. I wish I could attribute it to “feminine hysterics”, but in today’s society, that is not an acceptable excuse. I feel weird. Again. I don’t want to feel weird, I don’t want to be weird. But I am. I’ve been weird, it’s been noticed, and then later i’ve been declared not weird and now it’s creeping up on me again. Everybody’s their own brand of strange, and this is my brand right now, okay? Like, okay? Like Okay? Like okay? I’ve got to be a little defensive sometimes, it strikes me as overly hilarious when I do that and I may change my mind every two minutes but these particular two minutes seem very long right now. The attic has a lot of clutter and it just seems to be overflowing of late. So I must plunge. The toilet, I’ve learned, will never overflow if you plunge it vigorously enough. Plunge.

Plunge.

Plunge.
Plunge.

Plunge, plunge, plunge.

Plunge.

Flush.

Cleaning the Attic – Stream of Consciousness 02.

Shut up i say, shut up. keep the self from speaking and failing that, tape it shut. use glue cement whatever you have to to keep the mind from wringing out the tablecloths and yearning to take over the world. keep turning and twisting the connection between the wires something will break eventually it has to, nothing can resist backspacing for long, writes the speaker, says the writer. it’s been too long! Nothing ever changes in history, nothing ever repeats itself history repeats itself but not quite – draw parallels where you can but that’s how everything is. you draw parallels and wait for someone to point out your error of thought and speech . no, shut up, i say, no speech. no speech ever, helen keller! stay closeted within your own mind nobody gives you permission to speak except yourself and when you do the world listens. Where the corner of the eye meets the nose that’s where all the magic happens. build increase until you think you can’t stand it anymore and blink to send a projectile of energy through your forehead it might hit someone but what if it does? why censor yourself if nobody’s listening? What if everyone’s listening? Stop traffic for five seconds that’s all the power there is in a burst like that and then it’s gone. gone. gone. until tomorrow hits you from behind and knocks the windy ocean air out of your knees. fall slowly, gently, because the ride down is the best part. slow time. 180fps. walk across the street a little too slowly. a little too slowly a very little too slowly just slow enough for someone to notice and get irritated and honk. honk. their life is more important than mine. why don’t drivers stop for pedestrians anymore? Thank you if you do. you make my life a little bit better, mister taxi driver in my crosswalk. In the gloaming, in the gloaming, come sing and be merry. blow a bubble gum bubble gum a bubble of gum of gum bubble with your troubles inside and fling it out the penthouse window watch it reach terminal velocity and scream in horror as it lands on the skunk crossing her path. uncross the wires, please, you’re confusing me, says she, the one sitting beside me eating ice cream while i have none, is me. thank you try to see straight from now on your synapses are having a field day with your prescriptions! WHAT PRESCRIPTIONS? shhhh. it’s dark. don’t disturb her. she’s trying to sleep. trying, trying. prescribe a drop of water for each day thirst is nothing for the small tube running up from purple belly to nasal orange. Now is not a good time for an itchy tongue to itch.

Reeling on a star(t) fille(te)d night.

the exercise below is strictly for cobweb-clearing. It’s something I do once every so often just to reset all the switches in my head.

the room
the room is light blue
white door red rose
around the posey ring
bring a mouthful of rosey
to the white noise of ringing wind.
tape up that hole in the screen
keep the mosquitoes in
then open the window to torture them.
wave at me darling, i know you can see
beyond the end of your toes
’cause once you sink you sink forever
and your reaching hand becomes
another growing plant in the field and
no one will know why it looks that way you say
don’t look at me that way
just sit and eat your grain. raw. unhusked.
in the middle of the threshing floor
by the fistful – stretch while you’re at it
then strew the lavender over it
like they used to.
say hi to susie creamcheese before you return
she’s stuck on the web
and can’t get out the product of a star
in late years set to appear at random.

get the turkey in 30.

Corrupt-A-Wish

Feel free to play along …The Corrupt-A-Wish game…from the Gladstone Minis Facebook group.

The point is to make a wish, and then the next person will grant said wish, but “corrupt” it. For example:

“I wish for a basketball”
Next person: “Granted, but it’s flat……I wish for a beer keg”
Next person: “Granted, but it’s empty” and so on and so on…BE CREATIVE

So I played. I had to repost this in a note, as a memory of a fumbling moment of hypersynaptic finger diarrhea. Below is a transcript of the original posts. My reply is the long one at the bottom.

———————

Post #2
1 reply

_______ (Vancouver, BC) replied to ______’s post on May 9, 2007 at 4:55 PM
I wish I had a laser so large and powerful, it could knock the moon out of the Earth’s orbit by shooting neutrinos, mending the ozone hole on top of Antarctica in the process.

Post #3
You replied to Shuk’s post 21 hours ago
Granted, but when you try to shoot the large and powerful laser at the moon, you sneeze as you pull the trigger and your beam of “shooting neutrinos” misses the moon by centimetres and instead, hits the international space station, vapourizing the Canada arm, and obliterating our only hope of international recognition for past technological achievements, when suddenly, through your telescope, you see a legion of round spheres spilling out of the swirling wormhole created by the resulting reduction of total mass in the universe, and as they fly towards you they send out a broad-frequency hail message…”live long…and prosper”, leading you to believe that it is the mythical Vulcan race finally making first contact with earth, but as they land on the rooftop next to your top secret research lab, you realize they are not Vulcan at all…your laser-induced wormhole buddies turn out to be descendants of exiled Canadians from the very first manned mission to space that succeeded beyond our ancestors’ wildest dreams…

I wish I could lead two lives at once.

Spinning Minds 2

smush smush
spin spin
my mind is spinning again.
Actually no, it’s avoiding the task at hand
Doing everything possible in its power to eradicate any impulse
to begin doing homework
it won’t even let me type the word tre…trea…treatmmmm

TREATMENT.

oh no what shall we do?
write please,
now please,
if you please, please

no please,
not now please,
i’ll have my people call you
if you please, please

just once, please
not twice please,
don’t do it again, please,
don’t …please

block it out please
send me a love letter please
tell me you love me please
if you will, please

The word please
looks weird “Please”
like a cross-tease
of “ply” and “ease”

enough of that try again
force reluctant fingers to sing
bring again the ring
of loud music to my buzzing ear

this is stupid. i can’t do this here.

Spinning Minds

cough cough
spin spin
my mind is spinning again.
salsa is fun, i can’t wait to learn more.
I can’t wait to go to game 1 of the memorial cup tomorrow;
i’ve never been to a real live hockey game where players get paid to play;
I can’t believe i won those really good tix.
i need to find somebody to go to some of these games with me.
i wonder if the guys at dance class take salsa or swing because they’re trying to meet girls.
i wonder if the girls at salsa or swing go to meet guys.
maybe that’s why one of the guys asked about my engagement ring.
i’m glad i have an engagement ring.
more than that i’m glad to be getting married to someone i love dearly.
i wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.
i can’t decide what to do with my tomorrow.
i can’t stop thinking about these really weird fake teeth that one of the guys at salsa had.
poor guy.
he looked like austin powers.
i hope that guy doesn’t find me on facebook.
why won’t the cat stop meowing?
I think it’s in heat again.
I’m afraid it’ll jump out of my 3rd storey window just to go get preggers.
i had a migraine yesterday.
i was all weirded out and hallucinating today.
why was it so difficult to look people in the eye today?
i think their light was too bright for my migraine.
migraines have lives of their own.
i want this cough to go away.
why do some people not look me in the eye when dancing with me?
It’s really weird when that happens.
It’s like they want to learn to dance but they leave the room when they’re dancing.
do i scare them with too much eye contact?
no, it can’t be, because it feels perfectly normal with other people who do look me in the eye.
i wonder how many dust particles there are in this room right now.
I wonder what particles could be called dust.
I wonder why they bleach tampons.
I wonder why unbleached tampons are still white.
i liked sitting in the garden today.
i liked eating a chinese lunch while sitting in a chinese garden, today.
i liked being with a friend eating lunch in a garden, today.
my elbow hurts.
my fiance has a fractured wrist from hockey.
i wish i could kiss it better.
i wish i could kiss my elbow.
i left an uneaten lunch in my locker today.
i wonder if i can still eat it tomorrow.
it’s 1205.
in the quiet of the night, i can hear somebody in an apartment across the street having an orgasm.
i dislike loud machinery.
loud machinery like loud cars.
they wake me up with their loudness and i think we’re being bombed.
i like matching shoes.
i like matching socks.
i wonder where socks go to die.
why don’t socks ever die in pairs?
when a sock goes missing you always hope it comes back but it rarely ever does.
if it does you celebrate.
i need to sneeze.
i like sneezing.
i laugh when nurses take blood from me.
it tickles.
i laugh when i fall down the stairs.
it’s funny.
i wonder how i’ll die.
maybe i’ll die laughing.
that would be good.

Episode 003

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
with some other really famous people just chatting it up,
when he had this really great falling out with those Kingsmen,
over the grammatical integrity of “Louie Louie”.

The Kingsmen and Humpty got into this really heated discussion
over artistic license in song and rhyme
when all of a sudden they heard a bugle in the distance
and one of the KM’s excused himself by saying, “me gotta go”.

Well that really put Humpty over the edge -
He raised a stubby arm in protest
Declaring war on all of popular culture
Standing up on that wall to take his stand,

When the bugle sounded loud and clear behind him
announcing the arrival of one of the Kingsmen’s motorized carriages
(this was the 60’s already)

Startling Humpty

Who fell backwards onto the roof of that darned car,
and cracked his entire body open on the roof of said darned car.

The Kingsmen claimed they couldn’t put him back together again,
The car claimed no responsibility in the accident,

So they decided to make the best of the situation

making an omelette, large enough to feed four.

This is a picture of Humpty Dumpty’s grandfather, Humpty Dumpty (their family’s not very creative with names but it’s not really my place to say anything) in the good ol’ pastures of england, back in the day.

Episode 002 – The Revenge of the Nursery Rhyme

Episode 002 comes to you courtesy of last night’s late night journey through the foggy muck (moggy f*ck?) of brain confetti…you know, that stuff that happens generally as you try to fall asleep. So I decided to write it all down.

Episode 002 – The Revenge of the Nursery Rhyme

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.
She had SO many children, she REALLY didn’t know what to do.
So she took them to the barber,
down at the harbour,
and commanded him to dye their hair blue.

Hickory, Slickery Hock,
That pig ran up her frock.
The dame yelled “WUN!”
The pig squealed “TUN!?”
Hickory Slickery Hock!

Hippity hippity hop,
the bunny hopped to the top.
The top fell down
bunny broke his crown…
Hip *ouch*…Hip *ouch* …Pity…

For the vertically challenged sports enthusiast:

“Hickory dickory dock!”
The ‘mouse’…ran up the clock.
The coach was mad
The crowd was sad
Bickering flickering jocks

We sang “Peas porridge hot” in Alison’s warmup yesterday morning…got it stuck in my head, in various unorthodox configurations…

Seize courage not
Please forage gold
Squeeze orange by the blot
Fine glazed mold.

Freeze! Courage caught!
Seize! Storage’d gold,
Ease orange over naught
I’ve played, rolled.

Me’s the boorish fought!
He’s the foolish bold,
Tease the poor-ish into pot
Blind, payrolled.

Session 001 – “Style and Myles”

Here is the product of today’s free writing session – no i’m not into hippy dippy freudian blotting neccesarily, just some much needed work on writing skills. well, almost free, in that I gave myself the limitation that it had to turn out somewhat like a story. transcribed from my illegible notebook.

Session 001 – “Style and Myles”

Once upon a time, Style and Myles got muddled in a puddle.

Style asked Myles, “why would I get fried while watching forks fly out windows of no particular importance?”

Myles replied, “simple, my dearest Style, because the so called fork you saw flying out the window was no fork at all, it as a rather large broom on the brink of failure!”

Fried was just a manner of saying what was really true of course, that Style was merely seeing things of no particular importance. All this, but they still did not figure out the puzzle of the puddle! Why were they in a puddle when they got muddled?

“aha!” said Style to Myles “I think I know why every time I blink I get the muddles! It’s because yesterday out a blue-orange coloued sky a fork fell and hit me on the nose when I looked up accidentally.”

Myles looked up again and saw a beautiful blue rose tinkling with raindrops shining in the morning sun. It seemed to be humming a song,

“a dream is a wish your heart makes”, like a music box! Chiming again again like in dreams, making everything much more real than it possibly could’ve should’ve been!

“A dream is a wish your heart makes! When you’re fast asleep…”

You do not have to be good…

the eyes dart around in fear as the noise overwhelms her her mind her head disappears in a cobwebby fog contained only by skull and eyeballs, teeth and nosehair. she looks towards the back door, an escape hatch, to get out, because she couldn’t hear the music in her head and it scared the shit out of her because there has never been a time when she’s had to produce music where she has been frankly unable to at least hear a decent melodic symphony complete with all associated harmonic lines and rhythm, and it scared her.

so her fear, her anger, her sadness spilled over the surface over the edge of her cubic lower eyelid edge to break the surface tension of the liquid at the very least.

clear the shit out

and

start over again.

it helped.

then i could hear the music again. the rhythm rhythm and it comforted me. comforting rhythm rhythm rain rain rhyme rhyme