Day: February 10, 2007

it’s Patrick


Walmor Corrêa’s Cryptozoological Anatomy.

I recieved a copy of my birth certificate in the mail. It’s the same glaucoma blue as the sky. I had forgotten my father’s middle name. Today on my way to work at the Dance Centre, I’m dropping it off at the police station, no army at my back. It’s the last piece to change my name officially. More documents will come in the mail, then my registration will be complete. My passport will have the correct spelling, the one my bank has accepted for the past twelve years. It’s a strange thing, crumbling my birth-name. I feel like I’m erasing a part of my parents history. This is somehow harder than signing papers for Heart of the World.

the scent of your pretty black hair


Jhayne, by Andrew Dimitt
Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.

haiku for ___:
he reminded me
of the twitchy tip of a
purring cat’s tail

Paula came over yesterday and helped me begin sorting my things. Now everything’s a precarious mess, there’s paper piled on every surface, slippery memories tangled underfoot, stacked CD’s of old music, and violently coloured stuffed cats curled up to calligraphy kits next to antique instruments and gold framed mirrors. To orate the list would make for a glorious message on an answering machine, much in the style of a baroque-gypsy version of the semi-infamous monologue from Trainspotting:

The truth is that I’m a bad person. But, that’s gonna change – I’m going to change. This is the last of that sort of thing. Now I’m cleaning up and I’m moving on, going straight and choosing life. I’m looking forward to it already. I’m gonna be just like you. The job, the family, the fucking big television. The washing machine, the car, the compact disc and electric tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisure wear, luggage, three piece suite, DIY, game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption clearing gutters, getting by, looking ahead, the day you die.

Now that Wayne and I have picked up boxes, things have been going quicker. It’s beginning to make sense outside of my head. Already the detritus of my life is beginning to classify. Speculations correspond with a basic duality: Things I Appreciate / Things I Will Never Miss.

books for sale