Wednesday, February 15, 2006

. path of the parsley.

Wed Feb 15, 2006, 9:56 AM
.. on the road

question rush in like dusty brambles
stuck on truths, tastes, treasures
that breathed life in a storybook i owned long ago
why am i here
do i have purpose
or am i just like 'everyone' else
watching the life slip by
in another dust storm
to be eventually captured by the rain

rain. i have forgotten how it feels
how it sounds

this is the hardest time of year for me here.
it is soo dry, so brown, so.. bleh
it makes me feel bleh too
like i am just walking in the same footsteps
over and over
and the only difference i see
is the traffic on the carpet of my life
such patterns.
such lies.
such blandness

i need to travel.
i need to see someplace else
i need a new career.

my love has been supportive. he brought me 2 tulips in soil to plant in my garden. my parents gave me a rose bush to tend to too. the green of the leaves seems to make me giddy in a way i cant explain
my decimated herb garden is still holding on for me.. as if to say.. dont forget we are here. parsely is a crazy thing. it will grow and grow and green and green even without water. so resilient.
am i to follow the path of parsely?
i was once resilient.
perhaps i still am.. just dormant for the winter.


my mind never stops.

maybe thats a good thing.

Monday, February 06, 2006

. the raven .

... and with the hum of the tungston stars you shall know that the worst has evolved. never in time has truth been so tangled. the night will be long and the sun will hide in fear. ..

she crumpled up the news paper and let it gather its wings. what do they know!
her whisps of hair danced on the winds advances. she lowered the hood of her cloak down and perched looking out at the old belfry theatre. the leaves danced in the amber glow of the streetlamps and she could taste the beginnings of rain on the air. enough of this.
confidence, truth, belief, defender of mankind...

was it all a lie?

Friday, February 03, 2006

. the syrena .

The waters were calm as the boatman paddled slowly. His eyes were cast to the sky and he wondered where the players were tonight. The strait from ttaerus and sumgullom was at least an hour's journey on a clear night. The boatman found that the players kept his mind focused and away from the merfolk's attempts on his paying fairs. They prey on the unsuspecting and especially on the ones who keep they gaze upon them. They enchant, they wooo and then steal their very breath leaving the boatman to deal with a soulless body. As the paddle cut through the black waters the sounds of the syrens seemed to echo louder than ever before. He kept his sites straight on and finally, moored at the dock.
Azelow was there cleaning fish. ever seen it like this before? he asked. the slick slice of the knife cut through the flesh. not since the caethwl reign has the night been so.. withdrawn. why the starman hasn't ... a splash in the waters interrupted him followed by a shrill laughter. Azelow's face whitened and he dropped his fish.
it glided through the water as a snake would on its hunts. it seemed to sparkle like the dawn reflecting waves only the sun was fast asleep. this slithering creature was gliding with some speed and was headed straight for the boatman and Azelow. they slowly stepped back from the edge. then, without warning, as fast as the strike of a cobra, water came forward at them as it was alive. it rushed the dock with such force that the little boat broke in half.

. the starman .

in the old attic of dusty thoughts and old motivations, beyond the collected stamps of foreign lands and the random butterfly wing, sits a girl with dusty fingers flipping through pages of an old diary. above her head are cut out stars strung by string and bits of tinsel. from the portal window, the sunlight streams a waterfall of golden exhales of a bellylaugh and a cigar. and in the corner, tucked away from sight and light, the old Wurlitzer sits ready to sing perfectly poised in anticipation of the crank of the curtainman to begin the show. it suddenly begins to rain...

"... and i waited there with the golden glow and hum of the streetlamps to keep me company. damn, it was cold. it wasn't like the starman to be late. he was most punctual and most of the time early and anxious. my stomach twinged with suspicion.. i looked up at the sky and it was eerily empty. orion was late for his performance. the twins weren't in their places and the seven sisters were nowhere to be found.."

thunder roars. he makes his war call. the old one-eyed cat races across the creaky wooden floor to find a hiding place. the young girl pops her head up and begins to scans the the room like a small animal watching for its predator. 'it's just the rain. it's just the rain. it's light outside. it's only rain,' she tells herself as she nestles her face into the collar of her woolen sweater until only her eyes can be seen. she turns the page...

"... i dug my hands into my pockets and found the feather of brenna. she always left me little reminders of her just when i needed them. i couldnt recall how long it had been since last we spoke. with the delbchaem war over, there wasnt much communication over the lightwaves. we lost touch... but she was always so sneaky. i stood there grinning with a onyx plume in my hand just as Nightwatch dropped down from his silver strand...

caught in her spell again, are you? he laughed knowing that he always caught me in the most human of times.

i coughed and ranted, where is starman. have you seen the sky?

yes, i watch, remember? he spun around like a trapeze artist practicing for the afternoon matinee. he whirled and dismounted with a half twist that left golden sparks against the blackness of night. i dont know. it seems very strange for him not to be here since he is always on us for being late. have you channeled Neeva? she's bound to know...

i was hoping that i wouldnt have to do that. i saw Siofra earlier tonight and she was up to something.. "

'neeerrrNoooooo one to talk with, all by myself, no one to walk with, but I'm happy on the shelf.. ain't misbehavin'... the Wurlitzer began to sing. the girl squeaks and drops the diary. the portal waterfall disappears as the dark clouds smother the day. the attic is washed in an odd blue light.

the girl rushes to the corner and luckily finds a friend, the cat. the Wurlitzer cracks and creaks. soon the sounds of sskip sskip ssssskip ssssskip ssssskip echo throughout the cavernous walls. the stars catch wind and dance over head while two stars shoot down to land on top of the diary. their tinsel ends still dancing in a strange draft. very slowly, she looks around and inches along the wall to the other end where the window lives. she takes a chair and places it at the base of the portal. "it is just a storm. there is nothing there. it is just a storm and there is nothing." with a half-bitten lip and a heavy exhale, the girl places her foot on the chair and pulls herself up. her face is cast in deep cyan and her eyes double in their natural size.

the window breaks and a sweep of air steals the girl away like a lost balloon.

to be continued...

Thursday, February 02, 2006

. the sigh .

listening to : philip glass
sipping: chai with vanilla silk

the randomness of things.

i was in the middle of writing my thoughts when the power just went out.
everything stopped and the light came back on. the monitor light blinked. and blinked again.
and my post was, of course, lost.

perhaps the universe was teaching me a lesson.
. . . a wrinkle of time . . . washed in and out with the wave of the stars . .
time is in motion/moving/constant. . .

begin once more.

the sunset was incredible tonight. the cyan and cerulean were dancing in skirts of clouds. the wisps of imagination spied humpback whales sailing into the deepest of blues. the sky was a symphony of deep ocean tones with the hints of sparkling gold. as if the world turned upside down, it was reflecting the ocean sunsets in the sky. it made me pine for home. the drop of the chest, the softness of eyes. . . it's like falling in love. . and not knowing why.

i've been milling over the idea of nature deficit disorder. my mood has been exceptionally melancholy over the last few months. i haven't had the time nor the desire to be in oklahoma 'forests'. horribly brown, void of colour, the countryside leaves more to be desired.
it hasnt rained in over 40 days where in victoria it hasn't stopped raining in 40 days. my skin is so dry and my heart is most cracked. there are days when i stare into my pictures and visualise myself walking over the moss covered stones, inhaling the perfumed forest air. i can almost hear stellar jays and the cry of the redtail hawk.

document. 'document everything!' i would say. i needed to capture those perfect, beautiful moments in time so that my mind would not forget the feeling of being caught in the web of purity. perhaps i always knew that my time there would be short, or that i knew secretly that i would need these moments in time to keep me alive when the rains would leave.
how my life here is so different! i used to be outside almost everyday in victoria. i would walk to do errands, to find solace, to seek adventure down streets lined with trees (arbutus, cedar, douglas firs, hawthorne, oak and ash and sooo many others). the cherry blossoms in spring ignited my heart like a love affair. as if neruda's words were being whispered cheek to cheek as two lovers whirl in the flowery snowplay. . true bliss.

i miss walking down cook street to dallas road. sipping on saskatoon berry cider from moka house, dodging cyclists and rogue frisbee chasing puppies, i would skip down the vine covered path to the public beach access. oh, the wind rush over the ears! down the stairs, over the driftwood to my favourite place to finally mush my toes into the sunkissed stones at the waterside. oh... they were soooo warm! i would sit and listen to seagull secrets, dream of great love stories (i swear that there were love letters tied to the strings of kites), lament over the relationship that i had (i'd wish that he would surprise me at the waterside just to tell me he loved me but he never did), and to know that all this would oneday pass just as the tide washed in and out. being here in this place always put my mind at ease, even on the saddess of days.

someday he'll come along, the man i love. well, my daydream of that knight in shining armor that we are told about as children did finally come along. i never expected that i would find him in tulsa, oklahoma! the oddity of life!!
there is never a time when i doubt that he loves me. there is never a time when he doesn't give me that.. 'you can do it, fae' or 'i believe in you'. he paints me waterfalls in an endless sky and gives me moments where i can forget about work and life and rent and bills and i can be the girl with braids who likes to do cartwheels and make funny faces. i see the world through the eyes of a child and he never puts me down for that.
rant . . i honestly don't understand why there is soo much negativity and hatred in this country. it makes me mad that bush isn't making any humansense. history keeps repeating itself and this country never learns to just leave somethings alone. simplicity seems to be tossed out the window and bloodmoney and excess is the american way. i am so sensitive to it. i cant help it. i do not watch the news or read the papers anymore since i cannot handle the constant state of the regurgitated union. . end of rant.
back to the man i love... he tells me that i have a big heart, that i am beautiful and loved, and that we will make the world better even if it is baking poppyseed muffins and giving them to a complete stranger. we are not complacent. just poppyseed pirates on the rough american strait to canada. there is a folksong in that somewhere.. hmmm..
i always wanted someone to love me just for me being me and have it be enough... i can not verbalise how incredible that concept feels when it is a reality.

growing older . .while searching for some photographs to place in this entry, i noticed how young i look in these pictures. i feel that i have aged here so much. the dry weather, the homesickness, the constant stress from my job, i now look the age i am.
more reasons to move back to the west coast!!

i am lusting for more. i am thirsty and i want a new life with my husband. i am looking into going to school for holistic nutruition and naturopathy. eco-psychology has me interested as well. its that whole nature deficit disorder thing.. all in all, i need a new path where i feel that i am making a difference and that i am living the life i was meant to live. this path here was to find adam. now that we are together.. it's off to make movies and heal the world, one soul at a time.... or something like that.

sleep beckons..
i'll leave you with this last thought from a great mind...

"the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."
- kerouac, "on the road"

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

. the think .

the think.
to think.
think - ing?

think .. i do too often.
the oddities of the think. the continual process of the neurological firings. perhaps i am at war with my own self. or trying out for the debate team.

and to think.
i do it all the time.

think you know someone.... try yourself.
i bet you think you know that person. do you think that they know you? or is this a relationship that goes without thinking?

and to think ... i do it all the time.