Why didn’t I post this? I don’t know, stories left untold, fear of waking the dead? Actually, these were originally three separate drafts from the same day, but I stitched them together. Today Tim usually feels very far away and long, long ago, like a myth, a fairy tale. But, still, he creeps in once in a while, reminds me not to falter, or forget. … Continue reading The 35th: Boho And Buzzard Lore
I’d forgotten, actually, that he used to show up at my door late at night, drunk. This feels like such a long ago and far away place, but it is only just under a year and a half old, and maybe I was too ashamed I guess to post it, as by this point it was supposed to be all done and dusted. Almost, but … Continue reading The 38th Mistake: Doing What You’re Not Suppose To
Well, it was May and I had sat here for maybe a minute and a half enjoying the birds at the feeder before the squirrel found it and hence began the squirrel wars. Enjoying the gymnastics was Irish’s new favourite thing, and my obsession, as I tried to prevent it, and at this point I had as well begun to insert my particular slant on … Continue reading And Here’s The 39th: my imperfect self
No idea where this title came from, cause this post has nothing to do with soup, but my titles come first and the rest comes later and often changed at some point to more reflect what I wrote; so who knows what direction I had intended, but whatever. Now, if there is one person I wish I lived closer to, hands down, wish I lived … Continue reading To the 41st: how do you make Soup?
Five months had passed, the winter was gone and spring arrived in the nick of time, the dark days at an end, so was my thinking at the time, of change and moving on. I didn’t post this for whatever reason, instead I posted about hope, and Simple Gifts, and how knowledge is power, just two days after I wrote this. I was not waiting around … Continue reading A Space For The 43rd: the here and now
One theme, one prevailing right from the beginning, the first theme, the theme that started it all – death. A recurring theme. Like the dying and those about to die, those who have loved ones who are dying, all seem drawn to me, over and over. Long and in-depth encounters, or brief liaisons with strangers beside one another at a bar shooting the breeze. I … Continue reading The 44th Draft: how to love a dying man
To say the least, this stroll down the drafty lane is an exercise sometimes in throwing caution to the wind and just let it be, let ‘er fly, flow, and this is one of those, I suppose. I had to think about this one for a bit, trying to untangle what the heck I was talking about, and then I remembered, I took a stroll … Continue reading So Saith I This Is The 48th: to fiction or non
This one just kinda jumped out at me from the next in the pile of unposted posts and said, “pick me, pick me”, and so I did, as last Saturday had almost completely fallen headfirst into a horrible, no good, very bad day. This time there were two key differences, and one being that I can entirely lay blame at my own feet, since it was I … Continue reading The 50th And I: how i got through my horrible, no good, very bad day
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?
This one I’ll admit I find a little embarrassing and was hard to choose, hard to admit to, truth be told. This post is rather indicative of the rest of that year though, given the broken arm, and off work, I had little to do with myself but write haiku and obsess over this thing or that; this is one of those things. At the … Continue reading The 52nd: the girlfriend on retainer
I find that writing can be little like catching fastballs, or like me not catching them at all and watching them wiz by. I sit here sometimes and have all these words inside, jumping around like those weird Mexican jumping beans you used to be able to get at the corner store, but they just die or pass on perhaps to someone else, maybe those … Continue reading All The Things I Haven’t Said
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
by PaulaB 