poetry slam: a refrain

When we finally arrived inside the crowded building, I sat at the floor of my friend, the judge. There had been hope you were already there. Sitting inside, laughing with respect with all the cool people. Hemp clothing and backyard activists, the girls with interesting hair and patchouli faces turned smiling towards the stage. I had a picture in my head. A short film of sensation, flickering. You would be behind me, I would be unaware until you grabbed me into you the way you do. Catching me with the momentum of the moment and its energy flowing. I would be surprised yet wanting to laugh/die for the perfection. We would sit together, there on the floor and that would be enough. Only that circle, those arms.

I’m not afraid to love you too

Today was my day again. It started with a wake-up call and clicking into awareness with perfect sobriety. No middledreamstate for me today. Direct to caller, soul wound in.  After my shower, I was dancing through the livingroom, getting dressed to Emilie Simone and a fellow, who had seemingly been just cutting through next to the building, watched me through the wall of window. I stopped when I noticed him, and he motioned for me to open the window. I did so and he said, “That was fantastic, may I get your number?”. I replied, “Sorry, this isn’t my house.” and he said “Oh! Sorry to trouble you then.” and walked away. I just imagine him walking another block or two before realizing that my answer really had nothing to do with his question. *laughter*

“marks your path with scattered seeds beneath the opal stars”

T. Paul was on the bus today. It’s really nice seeing him one on one sometimes. Let ourselves catch up on real things, not only shows and performance. He’s been working the tattoo convention and was looking his age for the first time since I’ve known him. I had a moment of regret when it came to my stop, but I’m certain to see him again. We’re both such butterflies and there are only so many people in this small city of ours. Proof in point, when I arrived at Bryan’s to make props and costumes, it was found that we have an inordinate number of people in common. I’m willing to believe that if he were to place all of his friends in a line, I would know two of every three. He tutors Satisha, for example, and had lunch with Terri Diane only last Saturday. We didn’t get a lot done, but what we did get done was important, so I consider my few hours there well spent. The Red Queens dress has been laid out, (who, in another inscestous city moment, is being played by Monica Chattaway), as have been the three cards who paint the roses red.

“but in a crowd ther’s only one beneath the opal stars”

It was pauring rain by the time I left the house. He insisted on my borrowing a coat, but I talked him into only an umbrelle. Walking back to the Drive from Nanimo in the rain was very pretty. All the fairytale gardens between then and there. Roses climbing towards heaven, red like silk. The flowers I had put in grilles of the closed shops last night were still there. I saw some from the busstop on my way. White elegant lines soaked crushed into the pavement.

I wrapped up the umbrella when I reached the Drive. The rain and life had conspired to make me brilliantly enthusiatic. I can’t remember when last I walked in rain, it’s been so long. From first down to Sweet Cherabim, to give a call to Koyczan. Straight to answering machine and all out of quarters, but it didn’t matter. I’ve no set plans today to be ruined, not until later at least, and later has yet to happen. *grins*

I was happy in the rain. On my way back up the skytrain, Graine D’Etoiles started in my head and I couldn’t help it –  I began to dance. Swaying and twirling with my clothes plastered soaked to my body, closed umbrella in hand, trying to sing in a language I didn’t know. In retrospect I realize I must have made quite the sight.

Maybe I am the Moons Daughter, silver and shining and mad. I would like to think so..

I think I’m just happy. I feel myself again.

too tired to wrrite properly

Ah, the sweet unexpected blessings of having a domesticated roomate. Thank you Adrian for the plate of snackey treats. Raw plants are choice right now.

I’ve come ‘home’ today smelling of cigarette smoke for the first time in a forever. I consider it a terrible habit, and one that should be crushed like a butt in a can, but there is a certain something about having the scent in my hair that I can’t quite place. It’s somehow comforting, like it’s a certainty that I was out and well. My shirt is also contaminated, though differently. It’s funny, I just took it off and I realized that in spite of my wearing it almost three days straight, it has caught the scent of someone else. You are the thickest, an ‘I want to eat your eyes’ relaxing spice. Then there’s the burnt meat of the Deli-Llama, and the heat of the Poetry Slam as well as Shane’s smoking habits hugged into it. Yours is what catches in my mouth, the one I can taste.


*laughter* The sky is light out again. It does that.

americans are getting scary again, well – okay – more so? well – okay…

Tonight, a million websites — of which this is just one — are screaming the same news story — that the American government is planning a draft:

There is pending legislation in the House and Senate (twin bills: S 89 and HR 163) which will time the program’s initiation so the draft can begin at early as Spring 2005 — just after the 2004 presidential election…

$28 million has been added to the 2004 Selective Service System (SSS) budget to prepare for a military draft that could start as early as June 15, 2005. Selective Service must report to Bush on March 31, 2005 that the system, which has lain dormant for decades, is ready for activation…

In December 2001, Canada and the U.S. signed a “smart border declaration,” which could be used to keep would-be draft dodgers in… this plan, among other things, eliminates higher education as a shelter and includes women in the draft.