Saturday, January 15, 2005
The Theoretical Question of the Day
If the fighting off the flu while feeling crappy and shaking like a crack whore in need of a fix or three is just as bad as the flu itself, what exactly is the point of the flu shots?But, like the trooper I am, I've begun the three hour- long process of crawling the six feet to the shower so I can go to see Oceans Eighteen or whatever it's called with Mike.
At least it explains why I thought fruit fly and octogenarian as examples made any kind of sense in that last post.
lyric at post:
..now I'm in a bar in Copenhagen
and i'm trying hard to forget your name
and I'm staring at the label on a bottle of cerveza
and every fucking city feels the same..
Friday, January 14, 2005
Teeny Reflection
Just checking the links to make sure they all work, really, to avoid saying the bigger stuff.....and then I came across the hundred things...23. I wrote a lot of bad poems as a teenager. You will never see them.
24. I did, however, send one or two a week overseas to my friend Rob when he was in the Gulf War. He still has them all.
25. One, about smoking, is used by the Canadian Military in their stop smoking program. I wrote it when I was 16. It embarrases me.
It still does. Embarrass me, I mean. Especially since at 16, I'd been smoking for four years. I continued to smoke for 19 more. It's only been 3 months and one week since I quit.
And, proving the old adage that it's the little things that are the deciding moments - the last two months haven't made me get as close to pulling into the gas station to buy cigarettes as yesterday did. The only reason I didn't, in the end, is that I'd finally stopped wearing the waterproof mascara and man, I looked way too much like Alice Cooper.
The final straw yesterday? On top of the rest of it, which I'll get around to... someone wounded Ms. Betsy and I can't even describe how that made me feel. She is Matt's car. It was painful to be 'responsible' for damage. Even when she's paid off, she'll still be Matt's girl.
And so will I.
And no, I didn't go on the 'not a date' date the other night. It's been four weeks. FOUR weeks. Does it not seem like a thousand lifetimes? It must to you - if it does to me. Cause you have to listen to it. Actually, you don't have to listen to anything so screw you, but, it's never been a question of whether I'll survive or not, it's just been a question of what I will find, what I will end up with, how I will carry this love and what I will do with the fundamental changes he's caused - inside myself and outside of myself.
It feels to me a lifetime since Matt's been gone. The lifetime of a fruit fly or an octogenarian, depending on the day you ask me.
That's brutal.
lyric at post:
..long way to baby,
long way to go now now..
Short & Snappy Drive By Post #11
Claustrophobic? I Prefer "Comforting & Womblike", Thanks
When your bathroom is 47 inches (3.9 feet) from the 'door' to the far wall and 56 inches (4.6 feet) from left to right, you can reach everything from inside the shower without even having to lean more than 15 degrees. Who needs more than that?Give me a break, alright? I'm struggling for the positive today.
lyric at post:
..a satellite recalled your voice
sent me round the world again
all the night you've dreamt away
sent me round my heart again..
Thursday, January 13, 2005
oh, But Hey, It's a Brand New Day
I can't even work up the energy to tell you about my day, suffice it to say ... camel. back.But I have had a few new visitors. Apparantly, these people have linked to me. I have no idea why. I don't even care.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Moments of Morbidity, Necessary Reflections
or:
Hell is Where We Wake Up Dead
And Realize How Much Life We Had - But Didn't Use
A few years ago I had an acquaintance who would regularly stop by his parents farm, do a little work and just generally wander around but not really tell anyone he was there. One particular time he'd been doing just that and had an accident involving the tractor. He was far enough away and badly injured enough (or trapped, there are just some things it is unthinkable to ask, even if they mattered) that all he could do was lay there as he bled to death over a period of a few hours. Fully conscious, at least until the blood loss decreed differently, knowing that no one knew he was there, knowing that he was dying, knowing that no one was coming.
Although I did not know him very well, I was haunted by that for months. No, I am still haunted by it. In some miniscule way, I lived that with him and periodically I relive it as myself. It still brings tears to my eyes and a profound sense of loneliness, sadness, and fear.
In that situation, well, take a minute and think about it. Without even trying very hard I'll bet you can't help but imagine a small portion of the thoughts he must have been having as he watched his life drain away. I think about him and what he might have been thinking - mid 20's, young enough still to feel like you lived on the edge of life, with everything stretched out before you - I think about what I would have been thinking - old enough to have taken some chances, a few more years to reflect upon. Regrets, wishes, dreams, people loved, people lost, old angers, second chances, a wish to just say that one thing, to have just one more time, one more day.
Alan HAMBLETT was last heard from on Thursday January 6th but has not been observed since. It is believed that Mr.Hamblett suffers from dementia but is an avid walker and is thought to have been out walking near his home when last observed. Mr.Hamblett is described as a caucasion male, 178 cms, 86 kilos, with blue eyes and grey hair. He is believed to have last been wearing a red and black checkered flannel jacket and a hat.
Update
Search and Rescue volunteers and an RCMP Dogmaster were directed to the location of the body of 75 year old Alan Hamblett in Devonian Park off William Head Road just after noon Monday.
SAR volunteers, RCMP members and a helicopter were utilized to comb the Metchosin area near the residence of Mr. Hamblett. Devonian Park, located off William Head Road, was an area of special interest, since he was last seen in the park four days prior. Shortly after noon on Monday, January 10th, a pair of hikers reported finding the body of Mr. Hamblett off the main trail in Devonian Park. Investigators examined the area and found no evidence of foul play or suspicious activity. Preliminary scene examination leads investigators to believe that Mr. Hamblett sat or squatted down on his own, and eventually reclined onto his back prior to his death.
The cause of death will be determined by the Coroners Office, who now has jurisdiction in this matter.
I do not know this man although he lived in my neighborhood and this park is roughly a kilometre from my house. You could say that's because I've only lived here for two and a half months, but I also now live in the neighborhood I spent 8 years in as a teenager, and most people here do not move away. I imagine he has always been my neighbor.
I don't listen to / watch the news and so I heard about this on Monday morning while passing by a radio.
The day he went missing, Thursday, was the night it snowed and whatever else happened to him, in a city with the mildest climate in all of Canada that barely ever gets below freezing - snowfall that Thursday night and temps to -5 would have ensured, I think, that he wouldn't have survived the night. Even if it had only been a twisted ankle that kept him close enough to the trail to be found by the first hikers to pass while the snow had barely begun to melt.
I wanted so much for them to find him, for him to be okay.
On Monday morning, I was wishing they would find Alan Hamblett alive and well.
You could say that maybe he wanted to die, that he chose a favorite place to do so and while that may very well be true, it's not what I'm concerned with here. I can't bear to think of someone else in the circle of my knowledge having to die in such circumstances.
It may very well be that the only connection that exists between these two events is the one that I have created in my mind but it is that connection that I'm trying to talk about. The idea of the knowledge of one's final hours in a situation that needn't have occurred and what someone would do with that time.
I know that there are tens of thousands of people out there who've been exactly there in the last month but it just doesn't have the same impact. That is overwhelming, it's far away, it's... whatever. This is right here. I can't but begin to imagine that feeling multiplied by a city or a country. I can't. It is utterly beyond me. All I can do is feel for one person at a time.
I'd like to think that if the two of them could say one thing to all of us it would be, simply, to live, to do it all. Or, as Tanys would say, "Come ON, let's go!"
All I can do is vow to myself that if I were ever to find myself in that situation then the dreams come true will outweigh the steps never taken. That these people's stories will make me mindful when I forget - as lately I struggle to keep my feet on the road I've chosen. I need to remind myself that the memory of those who are gone can be honored by listening, even if I have no idea what they would have said, even if it's just what I think *I* would say given that chance at the end of my own life, even if it's just a story I make up to explain something I find hard to decipher, even if it's just my own flawed heart I'm listening to.
We don't like to think about death but I have learned that sometimes we have to. That to properly honor Life sometimes we have to open up that door and sit down for a good long chat with the Death of our own. I met Death's opening act personally a couple of years ago and Death is just right there, right now, it was right on top of me this morning, it is a reality that is closer than we think, closer than we want to believe.
I mentioned before that there were trails here I could not walk now (if ever) because I had walked them with Matt and this park is one of those trails. I had walked it as a teen with my mother and the dogs and then years later with Matt. Just seven weeks ago.
I think Devonian Park will not be a place I can ever go again. I think that even if the sadness around Matt being gone from me lifts, that park now will always symbolize a kind of deeper, wider human hurt.
Reflexes? Check. Check. Check.
Thank you to the young gentleman in the truck (oooo, all these pretty windows! whatever could they be for? is it an upgrade, did I have to pay extra? so pret-ty!) who so kindly tested my survival instinct this morning by swerving from his lane to mine without bothering to look whilst both of us travelled roughly parallel at high speed.I managed to not reflexively jerk into the oncoming traffic and missed slamming into his door by about 18 inches - my brain screaming, Fuuuuuuuck, the car's not even paiiiiid for yeeeeet". I don't think I have ever changed lanes using only my mirrors. EVER.
Thank God he didn't slam on his brakes when he noticed me right beside him. We would have both been fucked. Especially since Betsy was also carrying a full 30 lb pro-fucking-pane tank.
Jeesus, buddy, you know that "shoulder-check" thing they stress constantly during your driving test and in every commercial you ever see about driving? THEY DO THAT FOR A REASON ASSFACE.
lyric at post:
..another night with open eyes
too late to sleep, too soon to rise
you're short of breath, is it a heart attack?..
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
Voicemail
Hey, it's Mike. I rented Blade II - didn't know if you'd seen it or not yet.I'm getting all prepped for tomorrow night. Talk to you then.
I guess this means I can't bail out like I was thinking, hey? The car pool guy, who I owe some time to for the rides. And the ear. And it's NOT a date. And I am all about vampire movies and I have no friends. Plus he's a good guy.
He just won't ever be MY good guy.
A Poem.
Or, at least, Pieces of One.
Only part of it because I am not done. And no one liked the last one. Not that I actually reworked it. I got busy, and now remembering that day is too difficult. For now. And yes, every single poem I've written in my entire life has been free verse. Not a ONE of them bloody well rhymes.You never knew
you who knew me
so well
You who could feel my warmth
on the coldest nights
at your side
or a thousand miles away
Short & Snappy Drive By Post #10
Shameful Momentary Lapse of Maturity
And just as all the great thinkers and self help books tell us that every human being carries every possible behavior within us, it's all just a matter of emphasis, innit?www.penisland.net
www.whorepresents.com
www.therapistfinder.com
www.cumstore.co.uk
lyric at post:
..the fire is dying now, my lamp is growing dim
the shades of night are lifting
the mornin' light steals across my window pane
where webs of snow are drifting..
Monday, January 10, 2005
The Monday Bumper Sticker #2
lyric at post:
..we are strangers here
on our way to some other place..
Sunday, January 09, 2005
If I Were 'Man's Best Friend'...
I'm unsure if my loyalty would extend to smelling 'mom' and 'dad's' urine, no matter how much it helped the fight against cancer.Makes me wonder, though, if the Munchkin knew before any of us that I was sick, if she knew what it meant, if she knew when I was going to be okay. If she knew finally, how much I would miss her. Still.
Short & Snappy Drive By Post #9
Public Spectacle
On the way home from a lovely family dinner last night, I stopped at the wine store, choosing a lovely (and cheap, I'm all about the cheap) shiraz (Painted Turtle, which I love and am considering having a glass of, curling up on the couch with needy cat and a book - except that it's 10:30 am).....Anyways, reaching into my bag for my wallet, my hand landed on something cold and SQUISHY. I panicked slightly and yanked it out onto the counter before remembering it was a ziploc bag of gravy to go with the roast beef leftovers, also in my purse.
I don't think the other five people in line believed the "teehee, leftovers, family dinner" explanation. Gravy in a bag just looks... well, you know.
