There was a time when I could go through a litre of milk, just get up, open the fridge, and drink glass after glass, hungrily, gobbling it up like I was starved of it. Mom would say she’d always go out and buy extra if she knew I was coming for a visit, so she’d have milk for her coffee the next morning. These posts … Continue reading And The 51st Can See The Light: how do you buy a bag of milk?
I suppose one can get the impression with these kinds of little look backs that this me writing this has it all sorted, ducks in a row, and you would be wrong. Ducks might be paddlin’ in the same pond, but nope, not in a row. Absolutely, spectacularly not that organized. Although I will say, I’ve always somewhat eschewed order, in favour of a little … Continue reading On To The 60th: what happens when you’re dancing to a Latin beat
I’ve recognized a few things in going thru these old drafts, one of which is that I am more of a Ken Burns sort of storyteller, then I am a Stephen King. And, that I’ve shifted gears, going with the flow might be more correct, and that real life is far better than any fiction. Suppose this post is also about why I do what I … Continue reading The 64th Post Pulled From Purgatory: Underneath Her Heart
It’s been a week of rain, as I write this I can hear it is once again pouring, I’m writing this in a stream of consciousness, and it seems apt that almost every day more rain falls to wash all the things away I no longer need to carry, no longer need to burden myself with. These posts serve to help me see how far … Continue reading The 66th Draft: Reconstructing a future
This trip down memory lane has me looking back at things, piece by piece, and so I get to the letters I wrote to Mom, for almost 3 years. I went back and looked, and there it was, the first – Scent and Flowers – April 16th, 2014. Given that she died in October of 2001, basically, I was writing letters to the dead till February … Continue reading The 70th Draft: Does The Universe Cry?
But spring is on it’s way, as Penny and I again saw the Tundra Swans migrating overhead in a loose V. And I’m sorry I haven’t written, I could say I’ve been busy, but that would be a lie. I think it was this desire to just simply explore what I wanted to create, after being Freshly Pressed. Like wow, and oh my gosh, and … Continue reading How Do You Say Goodbye?
I wrote this to you the other day, Mom, but never posted it. But here it is… November 22/2016 I should go back and explain a couple things. You know we were never close in school. We were friends, peripherally. But, and this is hazy, there was something else between us. Out of all the guys from BealArt, why does he always stand out? Why … Continue reading Back To When Pink Was Pretty
After I’d spend the day occupying myself with a walk downtown. After buying Himalayan Salt at the market, after Sushi for lunch, and after wandering past the old BealArt stomping grounds (which is now a basketball court), after, I came home. But I was still wracked with this need to reach out to him. But I maintained ‘radio silence. I was silent. Completely silent. I … Continue reading That Man
To write this requires the patience of Job without my keyboard, I’ll have you know. Spilt something on it a couple of weeks ago and fried it, so I have to use the touch keyboard app that came with the tablet. Excruciatingly slow typing with your thumbs, as my thoughts tumble out and I fumble across the screen to capture them. So I’ve been writing … Continue reading What happens when you mix black and white?
You dropped me off that first day, and outside the annex was this group of punk rockers, with their Mohawks and ripped clothes, combat boots and attitude. Remember you turned to me and said: “If you come home looking like that, don’t bother coming home”. I think you were a bit shocked, as that was not how you saw artists. You wanted this for me, … Continue reading We Were The Breakfast Club
Well, apparently, from what I read and experienced of late it is my wide open door nature and my faith in humanity that causes some of my difficulties. I guess I need to say NO more. Although, I’ve also come a long way since Tim. Don’t know if you read that post of mine from yesterday Mom yet, but been processing some cold truths. Taking … Continue reading Thank You For The Experience, Dude, Cheerio
To Sue, he is ‘Uncle Dick. To her daughter he’s D3. To me, he is Crossroad.Man. I don’t even know what to think. You know, I’ve been writing this post for a week now. And every day something changed. Kept going back, re-editing, changing my approach, dancing, dancing. Around. As the script changed. Lets not get into the details, really. Certainly the details are significant. … Continue reading An Epicurean Way
I love where I live. I’m on the edge. I can ‘hear’ Friday night. I can hear people going places, visiting friends, bars, somewhere. Always. Like some sort of lemmings, the night sounds are alive and move in all directions, together. I can hear it all happening. And I can be a part, without taking part. I suppose that is the comfort and joy of … Continue reading The Quieting Of The Wilde Childe
by PaulaB 