The Lady of the Cellar | Conclusion

In that tired myth of vision and circumspect
we strive to create our Noble Lie;
In the blanket of time
we are its prisoners.

This was a time of long, billowy sheer curtains, orange rag walls, and a trio of pianos. It was a time of wine, symphony’s and lying on matching floral pattern love-seats whilst listening to “Monday Night Playhouse” on CBC Radio. We had no TV, needed no TV,  because it was an unnecessary distraction — a piece of nothing garbled up into sound bites and fake emotions. Genevieve and I shared the whole downstairs of a house that year from around February 2000 until late fall 2000.

I had walked away from our matrimonial home, my garden, my life. I walked away. I took my furniture, my plants, my Cats and I walked 8 or 9 blocks west to my new life, my new beginning. {I didn’t actually walk, we used Genevieve’s’ car}. She had studied with the Royal Conservatory of Music, and was finishing her Teachers, and starting on (I think this is the name of the last level) her Performers certificate…which was the farthest level of the RCM. My room was in the basement and I remember sitting downstairs listening to her with her students. It was so wonderful to hear her with them. She is a very good teacher. There are not many teachers who after your lesson will sit and talk to a 9-year-old boy about your favourite WWF wrestler. Genevieve is a very dynamic, Type A personality, wine slogging, divine diva-esque Glenn Gould sort. [who is now a public school Music Teacher…BRAVO Gen, BRAVO]

We haven’t seen each other in a couple of years. Not spoken except via Facebook. I miss her. How is it we let these people slip through our fingers? Life is no excuse. I was working through a lot of pain and regret and I was very thankful I still had Genevieve in my life, she was a good friend and I have some wonderful memories of that time. I am a difficult person to live with though, and through no fault of hers, I think we just came to the conclusion that we really should not be house mates.

Eventually, early 2001, I had my own place and so did she. Our lives drifted apart over the months of 2001. Mom died October 31st, 2001. The last time I saw Genevieve was sometime within that last week before Mom’s death…she dropped off some of her Motown collection CD’s for Mom to listen to in her final days. Soon after that we lost touch.

There are many paths one can take in life; some more difficult than others. We choose our way with the best of intentions, but life has a way of taking us not where we want to go, but were we need to. We are given no roadmaps; the only compass we have are our instincts and our soul. Deep within ourselves lie the only tools we will need along the way…
… thank you Mom for giving me the strength, character and guidance that has kept me strong and sure.

July 2, 2000
There are days when I want the illusions back, the fantasy world I lived in. If only something could take away the sadness and pain that underlies every breath now.

What I lost is truly and wholly lost. Illusions, illusions…to live again in that world. To take those long walks, to sit on the patio at night and talk. What I want is tainted now, spoiled. We left it to rot in the fridge. There are no more illusions, no rose-coloured glasses. I am fully awake and so aware of the pain. I could not give R what he needed. We wasted and sucked the life out of our partnership. I miss him. If only it was as easy as a drunken night in a sleazy bar. If only.

December 29, 2000
Had a strange dream last night. About this house – but it had this whole other area I had only once before gone into. I seem to recall I have had this dream – or a dream of this house, before.

This area before when I went up, was decrepit and abandon looking. This time it was fixed up and there was this weird shower stall-like area in this hall. You went up these stairs and it was on the landing when you reached the top. It was totally open, with no curtain or door. As you reached the top there was an open door to outside on the roof and another that went back down again. I went outside. Outside wasn’t fixed up, and there was some garbage and a rickety fence, but it looked out onto the roof tops. There were 3 guys on another roof, but they went in.

When I went back into the shower/landing area , all these shower heads came on at me. I had to walk through them to get down the hall.

Very strange. Interesting that the house is now fixed up and livable. Sounds like me – cause I know when I dreamed of that house before it was before I moved here — and I still had alot of work to do on myself.

Miss You, I miss you all

This is the end of Old Journals | an introduction

3 thoughts on “The Lady of the Cellar | Conclusion

  1. I read all of these, and I love love love them all. I’ll read them again and provide a comment of actual substance soon, I promise… but for now I just wanted to say that I read both the lost journal collections of posts and they were amazing. :)


Comments or Otherwise

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.