Three years ago today I wrote in my journal while sitting in Dee’s (Darren) Studio loft in Gastown waiting my turn to get in the shower. I had been living in Vancouver for two months after flying here from New Brunswick with Lala (Angela) to stay with Dee. I made the deicision to stay here that day. I was sober, only taking drugs recreationally at that point. I was aware of everything around me inside and outside. Here is what I wrote:
An eclipse is in progress
The old and the new
A war of past and present or rather
that of the future in purgotory;
the happy medium in the centre.
Beauty illuminates it’s edges
glowing from behind
Breathâ€¦ they begin to shine.
My soul is on fire
tipped with sparks.
The burning will continue,
yes, it will carry on
Vancouver here I am
Yeeeah I am here to stay
I am not going away
I am here to stay
Blue is ok for a pen
My life is evolving rapidly; not just dripping away; it is a torential rainfal of heated emotional flavour culminating into a clenched fist waiting for release. The world as you know it will not be the same â€“ it is not the same now; nor in this instantâ€¦ It is always eveolving beautifully.
Writing in blue is not the same. The look, the texture, the feel is different. I do however like the resistance this paper creates against the ball point tip of this pen. It is a good thing to smile about.
Oh, last night. Wondrous night. Anxiety ridden with anticipation. Excitement blinded me; made me not listen.
Simple directions evaded my thoughts.
There is an equal and opposite reaction for everything. By not making it to my final destination last night my extreme happiness turned to fearful frustration.
Sweat poured down my back gathering momentum at the sensual curve above my buttocks finally resting between them on soft flesh and hair. The organic and inorganic; tied together by water slightly salted with fear.
Patiently waiting am I.
Fear = Love
The mold grows on the bricks across the way, green against rustic red. A generator breaks the silence motoring away while a hairdryer blows evaporating wetness off of strands of hair.
I sit in silence.
I sit in silence looking at the moldy moss clinging to existance on those rustic bricks.
Sharp plastic demonic points rest above that line of moldy mossy bricks. Gothic Arches to keep the birds away. Why? Why? Why to we allow one organic residency and not another? The Bricks and wood would have made a nice perch but now another inorganic is there creating foe not friend.
I wonder, is the phone workingâ€¦
Breath in the Dampness os the day swallowing it’s sadness and turn it into madness; an organized happiness so to speak.
Agony screams from a distance.
Agonic screams die out, ring out shaking my being to the core. Gutteral gasps of desperation systematically breaking the monotonous motoring of the generator.
Water is being forced into action in the kitchen rinsing and labouring on command. The noise is incredible, like millions of little drops fused together forced forced through a metallic pipe round in shape, silver in colour this snakelike apparatus is inorganic, but has been created by organics.
Think about it
Ohâ€¦ the agonic scream
1 2 3 4 out 5 6 7 8â€¦ ahh.
This has been my reality for the last little bit as I sit patiently waiting for my turn in the bathroom. I’m #3 in line. Last in line smiling ’cause there is no one after me meaning I can take my time.
Feet Shuffle, cafuffle, cafuffle
He he he.
An icecube singularily dings itself against it’s wattery prison melting, while cooling and reintagrating itself to be with it’s warmer friends.
He will call. Smile. Serene happiness enters my mind. It’s time for it too stay.
It is time for my mind
And the shower stops.
It’s my turn
It’s my turn
What do I wear?