Sunday : working 2 – 5pm ->> 5:30 Lori, broadway stn.
Monday : working 5 – 8pm, Korean movie night
Wednesday: cowboy bebop 12 – 5pm, rehearsal 6:30
Thursday : working 2 – 9pm
Friday : working 3 – 9pm
Saturday : working 2 – 8pm
“The morning mists had risen long ago, so the evening mists were rising now, and in all the broad expanse of tranquil light they showed to me, I saw no shadow of another parting me.”
The body as a home. Every nail, chewed maybe, I do not know, is still a protection, a fine metaphor for weapon tipped fingers. Promises about an intent to future. We are our own checks and balances, our own inner ear and voice. Time will burn ripe without my having to think about it. This is a call to soft arms. My wrists, they crack under the weight of history, one hand a bracelet around bones, crack. This is a slight battle with having to go home. The foundations are iron but rusty. My attic is crawling with what nice people do and the traps I’ve laid down for them. One trick is to turn around in time to see the other person walk away without being caught. Otherwise sadness closes in, reminiscent of airports and long drawn out sighs on the street, as if everything should have changed while you were away for that last ten minutes. The best part is that trick is a lie, but an accepted one, like going home to comfort and safety. Stability deters the basic creature from improvisation, from evolving. Looking back only leaves part of your gaze behind you to drag like a sucking wake behind the sails of your coat and breaks the illusion of independence that pacing away like duelists kindly offers.
I want to visit Iceland. It appears to me as beautiful beyond measure, as if the music born there were merely a representation of the stones and soil.
Originally uploaded by Boytoy.
I’m vacillating between listening purely to The Arcade Fire and what new music I’ve found this week. It’s a difficult decision, Funeral being a powerfully difficult album to put down.
The lighthouse is fractured, a flash of light explaining very strange pieces of personal mythology. blink The first time I was seduced by a woman. blink Going there with the band the next day. blink Balancing rocks with my missing lover, my best friend, the only person who’d met him last time. My eyes cannot be covered by my hands to shut it out. blink I don’t want to. blink It’s a strange place to think about only because I’m not used to it. I forget it exists. blink A picnic, they talked about making a music video on a sailboat for a song about whales. blink A different lover, but the same best friend. Fire. blink oh Nikki’s hair blink oh how he used to have a temper blink the painter blink the violent drinker blink different people, the time I almost threw myself in. GLITTER WARNING FLASH. One of the only lights you can accurately see across the inlet. The memories creeping into the fabric of the trees and cliffs and water. FLASH. It’s Vancouver, this particular quality of light remembering. The sign on the road. The parking lot hemmed by forest. Running the path. Running the cliff. The water looks like expensive gun-metal silk shimmering in a radio play. Everyone sits and raises the children of conversation in front of the ocean. It’s only human, but how I wish I could swim.
`Wearing an aura of rugged-intellectual charm like a plastic raincoat …’ — Sam Merwin Jr.
Fantasy spark: water warmer than this, with you.
I fell entirely in love with Lost In Translation, did you?
It’s one of those strange little times, when you and I haven’t spoken and we’re left wondering. I’m reading the notes toward a paper of sexuality and it makes me laugh a little at how little I think about this sort of thing. I’m infatuated with history and mood and mythos, but the holiness of sex? It smacks of religion. Play as something apart from the self. I don’t wax full of jesus metaphor when I think of my desires. Yes, I miss you. I think of my repairing self in terms of myth and archetype. Visions of archimedes screws, that’s sexy. There’s the pun and the history and the lovely lilting action. I think in quivering multi-layer presentations sliding past innocence into carefully arranged chaos.
In celebration of 50 years of spoken-word publishing, Caedmon has released “Dylan Thomas: The Caedmon Collection,” available as audio cassettes and a beautifully designed 11 CD set. They are all available for free download here, at Salon. Non-subscribers, like me, have to wait through an advertisement. For such a treasure, it’s a ridiculously cheap price. Dylan adds an unimaginable depth to his own work. It’s a rare gift to find an author who can read as beautifully as he does. Even if you’ve never heard of Dylan Thomas, (and for damned shame, if you haven’t, get out from under your weird rock), for the sake of decency, I demand you take this.
When someone today used the word dragon, I brought to mind more than fantasy and scales. It’s no fun unless every meaning is evident at once. I supply large soaring creations of imagination, terrible art from the 80’s, wicked claws that tore poets apart in medieval Japan and young mythical virgins who were really fucking the millers son, millers sons being all the rage back in the day. They were rich, you see? Not like you and I. We are pulling on opposite ends of a very similar rope. It’s not the McEmployment but it’s as close as pretending can be. Stability and the risk board, all those coloured squares mocking the agonies of war. Roll the dice to find out where you get to kiss me. I need out of my job as much as you’re thinking about me when you shouldn’t be. We only sell those dice to women and that bothers my personality. The western world irritates in it’s persistent subservience to christendom.
I suspect there’s a line between words that you’re not delineating, but that I might be seeing when you’re looking the other way.
A 13-foot Burmese python burst after it tried to swallow a live, six-foot alligator whole.
I eye the car-seat and laugh to myself. This is my little escape. I could cut off all my strength with this. I could hold up the pillars of any quiet holy place. The back windows have stickers in them, obviously applied by tiny fingers. This is my beehive caged in the bones of a lion. Instead of pulling down stone, I will pull down delight. It’s just as devastating. Again, I’m not going to be alone, even when I’m by myself and standing in the rain, looking at the sky, and wondering what England is doing. We all have to tie back our hair some day, but my day was last year and this year once more, like a heart-felt coda was hit. Time to let it down. This is my scarlet banner. I will wrap it around my body. Your whisper. Life came crashing down, wasting, and now it’s time for me to remember the outline of my shadow. It’s not as scorched into the wall behind me as much as it used to be. Remember that icons are (beautiful/fallible) painted. Taking a hand in mine, over the lines, I did that. It made me happy. I never knew how before and it’s obviously the season to recapture the flag. My big guns are that I make them laugh, that my affections are devoted, that my hands remember how to pull hair airtight over the keys.
Tonight is SinCity. This means dressing up and dancing from 9 until 2 in the morning. I’m going to be exhausted by the end of it, and I’ll be lucky if I can walk the next day. Exactly how I like it. I need to let go and stomp around in a giant evening gown. It will help. My angel will be movement and my devil will be my entire lack of breakfast. Brian’s picking me up from work, however, so perhaps we can remedy that. Now it’s time to leave for work, a bag stuffed with black tulle in one hand and a corselette under my shirt. Black and rhinestones. Black and pale skin. Off to sell sex toys and stockings and very short skirt Little-Bo-Peeps. I’ve received a strange gift, one that may let me loose myself from this job, but I’m not certain yet. I want somewhere to go before I leave.
Scientists have taught dolphins to produce music, namely, the Batman theme song. Next, the escapee killer dolphin form a revenge team, sing their own themesong while hunting down nerdly scientists.