Sunday, April 30, 2006

another sunny day.
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sitting outside on the deck and looking over the world. alright, rather massive exaggeration, unless the world consists of a small stretch of dupont street. but for the moment, this is my world. the run-down bars, parked cars, and rising stars of yuppie bakeries and organic eateries.

and the deck, in all its glory. this is why we moved here. for the large expanse of outside glory, for the promise of parties that came and went in booze-drenched splendour. for the possibility of days like this.

and now, it is giving me some solace amids the sounds of traffic and passing conversations. it makes me happy i bought the headphones without the noise-cancellation - because i still hear snippets of life through the music.

and perhaps that's something to keep in mind when i am obsessing with what's in my mind. that there is life going on everywhere outside of my own little problems, worries and neurotics.

and having my kind of quiet but not fully quiet-time is vital. time to think, time to have a solitary (guinness) drink, and time to realize that i might just be on the brink of something big. what, i am not sure. whatever it is, it will be drenched in the sunshine of the coming weeks. and that is something (no matter how small) to be happy about. and happiness is key.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

orange you glad i didn't say tomato?
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For once i am not writing on a Sunday. amazing. it's funny, having this little prose blog - since it's essentially an extension of my muddled thoughts, i keep forgetting to update it -- after all, the dialogue is constantly going on inside this head of mine, so it feels like the blog is gigantic. and guess what? i am wrong! because all the little neurotic quips and blips aren't actually recorded. They just slink off into dusty corners and mope.

we were talking about moping the other day. how it's dope to mope. How moping and coping go hand in hand. how we're all riding mope-eds down the highways of life. well, that's not technically true i suppose.

i am happier than sad. i just like to wax on pretentiously. how did i phrase it today?

i am a full-time dreamer and a part-time schemer.

and spring is here. 5 songs to spring to.

SOUND team -- movie monster.
figurines -- release me on the floor.
hot chip -- no fit state.
alias & ehren -- 52nd & west.
oh no! oh my! -- i have no sister.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

holla.

rain rain go away - don't come again another day. especially not a sunday, with work week stretched ahead like a piss-yellow brick road. ok, ok, so i am being slightly melodramatique - not hating the idea of going to the office - but do have some unfinished projects (or rather, unstarted) due tomorrow, and so, it is with some irritation that i watch the minutes of this evening slip slip slip away into the dusk.
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and my head feels emptier than this laundromat i passed by a few nights ago. sure, there were machines running and swishing away, but not a soul to be seen. that's me right now. the machines are running and swishing away, but not a headline to be seen. not even one intelligent thought!


welcome to the laundromad.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

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always compelled to write on le sunday. le sunday sunday cruddy sunday. of course, today's a day of happy cheer - of bunnies & chicks & baskets, of people stopping to smell the roses. easter is a time for renewal, right? so does that mean we take old problems and thoughts and troubles and renew them like books at the local library? i mean, it's hard to get enough of something so bad it's good.

no, i guess renewal in this case is more like making things right by making things new. or renewing a sense of purpose in the big bad world, or the little lovely world, as the case may be. so, if i were to make a purposeful list of purposes - purposes as smart as porpoises -- what would be on it?

i want to write. to write more than headlines. to write to my own deadlines. i want these pages to be mine.

i want to immerse myself in that happy wistful feeling that's straight out of a bruce springsteen song. lately it's been sloshing around my ankles like a determined puddle, and soon it might just slap slap my kneecaps.

i want to stretch the weekend out further than the waistline of my pantalons.

and i want to make good on all the things that i know i should. on the promises i've made to myself, and keep breaking like the glass menagerie. over and over.

so huey lewis and the renews kicking it old school over here. i guess i should make like that easter bunny and hop to it.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

"pose artistique 01"
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"pose artistique 02"
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"pose artistique 03"
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so where will life take me anyway? is anyone sick of melodramatic "what road am i on" drivel?

i mean, it's the kind of glop that we suck up every day, with vigor and enthusiasm. the question and vague possibility of all that will come tomorrow and in the days to come is pretty much what keeps many of us going, is it not?

the faith that next week might bring a smidgen of something, a ray of anything.

you gotta have faith. i think george michael said that.

keep the faith. i think bon jovi said that.

actually i'm wrong on both counts -- we all know they sang, not said.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

sunday sunday here again, a walk in the park.

Ah, how that brings back memories of 1995. britpop sugar pop, pop rocks, yum! or something like that.
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my room is a colourful mess of book spines, empty mugs and clothing. in fact, it sometimes more closely resembles a very spacious walk-in closet than a bedroom. A walk-in closet that just happens to have bookshelves.

today i actually took a closer look at my room, and thought, "this just won't do." so i folded clothes. As i do, on occasion. with methodical precision, fold fold, over & over until i have large stacks of t-shirts, in pinks and oranges and fuschias -- which then are placed precariously atop other stacks of t-shirts, in blues and navys and aquamarines. a terrible tower of t-shirts. destined to forever teeter and fall into a cheerful mess on my hidden floor.

and i also took a closer look at those shelves that seem so oddly out of place in my closet of a room. picked up volumes of poetry, marked with yellow post-its, carefully noted as verse to remember. and as i waded through a 45 stanza gem by tennyson, i realized that i gots a long long way to go before i ever call myself a poet. don't you know it. and a writer? hot damn.

after, i chose an anthology of literature -- you know one of those big fatties that you bought in university, read pages 245-250 and 292-300 and then forgot about. An anthology of russian lit, this was. Full of fairytales, melodramatic legends and witty play excerpts. Read the section titled, "Thresholds: Soviet culture & beyond". felt transported, though i was indeed, sitting in my messy little room. Realized that i have far to go before i actuallly make it across the globe.

So, a sunday of realization.

of clothes-folds, stories told, and soviet thresholds.

all without leaving my bedroom.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

La la la i have no life. All i do is powerbook.

i suppose i should save my ode to that for the poetry side of things. Instead I'll mope about like Morrissey on a rainy day. After all, didn't he write, "Every day is like sunday - every day is silent and grey"? what gorgeous optimism.
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But I can't help it. It really has been one of those weeks where you long for the weekend like an Austen heroine longs for some witty man to sweep her off her feet. I feel like even my words are listless. Lines are falling flat. Words are tripping on my tongue and stumbling clumsily into conversations. I hope i can muster up some sort of presence/eloquence (pres-eloquence?) for friday's client presentation. they do seem to expect a bit more sparkle than i feel capable of at the moment. Course, as aforementioned, friday seems a long way off right now. so much time to shine up that dull-as-dirt feeling into some sort of firecracker frenzy.

i can do that. i mean, i saw on "america's next top model" that you have to really improvise and believe what you are saying to really sell a product. i can do that.

easy breezy beautiful liquor store.
maybe she's born with it -- maybe it's her cell phone!!

right.

i think i'll just smile. and believe in myself. and maybe listen to something inspirational beforehand. like the theme to rocky. preferably on a small plastic ghettoblaster.

then i'll blow them all away. no cue cards necessary.

Monday, April 03, 2006

sadderday turns into sunday proper and monday mundane
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and everything's blurred. feelings.
hours on a daylight savings clock.
my head from too much questionable dark ale.
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i need clarity. that which is unmarred by boozy swigs and messy digs.
i need the kind of clear headed loveliness that this lady's a showing. She's positively glowing. And why? because she's welcoming people onto the flight of their dreams? Because she's got magazine-glossy hair? Because she's made of acryllic paint on fine paper, not skin and bones and faults and worries?

see the kind of brilliance melodramatique that comes from writing during a conference call?

the very dopest.