Tired, all day. Listening to Matt Epp's new album, released this month. Procured last night.

I'm sitting here, watching In The Cut and of course, my focus has shifted to words and how they feel in your mouth. The pictures that are conjured from thinking or saying a single word. Or slur them together in a puddle, swish them around to make sentences or a series of pictures.

I'm not really quite sure how image hosting is done here at Blogger, but I'll give it a shot. Here are some things that have stuck in my mind, words. Pictures.

Matt, in the living area of my studio. I like the shadow the flash cast.


Really good study of hands. Real men smoke Camels. *grin*


Zheebak and Matt, lighting each others cigarettes. Completely in the moment.



I've been fascinated with Buckley's teeth. Half the time, I call him 'teeth'. A couple of months ago, the entire bottom row of his front teeth fell out (teething time). He looked so funny, I couldn't stop running my finger over his gums. Slowly, over the past while his mouth has replaced all of his teeth. But his adult teeth are too big for his little mouth, so his front teeth now stick out like mini white shovels. So, when he's running around playing, he looks like he's grinning. And this is Buckley, trying for a nap one afternoon.


If it's me you need,
then by all means
why don't you come around.
You'll find me alone.
I dropped the paintings off at the gallery today. Relieved the choosing is over and the deed is done, I went to have eggs and toast with Chunk at Gonga's Grill, a place I found in Sudbury that serves breakfast all day. Then a ride home, where no mail waited for me.

I like the way the rain sounds in the Fall. It sounds heavier. As though it has no purpose but to land on the ground as smartly, sharply as possible. I hope it rains all night. Movie and bed time.

You'll Find Me Alone - Matt Epp.

Happen when you aren't paying attention. When I had my cigarette lit for the first time by a gentleman, that was a wake up experience for me. It touched me. And I got maudlin and now have a small crush which will likely end in nothing because I'm just not the kind of girl those men fall for.

I have questions that need to be answered. I have declarations of love that I need to have in my pocket before I give another away.

During our visit, I listened to the cd that he had sent me months ago. It was good. Sweet, and it touched me. And now. he's gone. Down to further South and we will likely not meet again.

But we;ll see.

I just like meeting people I click with. It happens so rarely.

No G&T's were hurt in this entry. Just a lot of laughs and some fine photos taken. See you soonm Mr Matt Epp.

I hate that word, Blog. I've said that before.

Slicking along rainy forested roads today. Slipped back to the Island and reunited Buckley and Marble, one of them is really happy. Nothing came in the mail for me. I was disappointed. No silky vintage comforter, no nice sheets. Not even the camera cases. Bah. Slow or not sent.

The art show where I will have a few pieces on display starts on October 1 and goes until the end of the month. That's mostly what I've been anxious about lately. I had a bit of a freak out the other night, at the studio. Green paint flying, my energy in the toilet. Figuratively.

Inspiration is tough to come by, sometimes.

I keep waiting for the curtain of apathy to lift. It could be the rain. Or the exhibition. Or the fact that my plans are now in motion and I still feel the same. No future. No goal that is appealing. And guilt. Because I should be glad I'm alive and I live in Canada and not Tripoli.

I should be glad that I have access to the things I want, when I want them, instead of being so lackluster. I should be praising god every single hour for my freedoms.

But I'm not.

p.s kinda cranky today

I'm honing my skills in the art of procrastination. I'm sitting in the studio, eating Lucky Charms, watching Six Feet Under and completely ignoring the blank canvas that sits in the other room. Prepped and all ready to go. A perfect white rectangle to ruin.

If anyone reading me, knew me...they'd know this is par the course. I have a 'freak out' then things have a way of working out themselves.

Oh, I always get a little teary eyed at this scene in the last season of Six Feet Under. Darn Nate. Ok, passed.

Anyhow, my internet connection is tenuous. It's seeping through the walls and floors of the sports lounge to the right of my studio. Swollen Members played the Townehouse last night, from what I could hear (everything, perfectly) it sounded like a good show. I was wrapped up deep in the sea foam coloured sheets bought at a discount outlet. Sleeping in my own bed for the first time in....months. Good bed, that.

Buckley doesn't care too much for the studio. He hears the others moving in the building, the trains across the street freak him out and he can't find Marble anywhere. But we're going back to the Island tomorrow. He'll be pleased.

And I must to my painting. It's just that time, I suppose.


Lose You - Pete Yorn

Not as in the George Bush variety. I mean as in the woods variety. The middle of nowhere. The Boonies. No-man's land.

There are some perks.

For instance, the only things that wake me up is the sound of the birds singing, or my sister yelling "Hello!" through my window. No cars honking, or ambulance sirens shaking me out of sleep. No shrilling phone calls or barking dogs from next door.

And my family is in the middle of no-man's land. That's kinda nice.

And of course....the guys. They are all like rough cuts of gems. They all have jobs that involve their hands, like miners, lumberjacks or road workers, etc. They have day old facial hair, so they are deliciously scruffy. They drink beer from the bottle and talk about manly things like working 12 hour days and poker nights with the guys. They kiss you with their whole body, leaning against you, you feel like a feather suspended in air.

They drive Jimmy's or Blazers, or Silverados. Tools are usually in the back. Coffee cups on the floor of the cab.

Yeah.

It's interesting because I am feeling completely asexual right now. But I notice all kinds of these guys wandering around. When I go into the city, its bar managers or musicians or slick salesmen. But here, on the Island...it's all masculine.

Of course, I can only manage to be around that much testosterone for short bursts of time. One or two days. Then it's like I need to come up for air. I'm on the island now, but have to go back to the city tomorrow. Two paintings need to be done for the exhibition in October, and I just want to make sure I have options.

Moved into the studio last night. The movers were creepy, I shivered on the sidewalk while supervising the stuff in front of the sports lounge. I'm having a small wine party there tomorrow night for a couple of friends while we set up small appliances and hang pictures.

I'm so nervous about the art show that I keep doubting myself. Playing with the new camera helps....it's makes the most delightful *click* noise. Love at first shot.

Ok, I probably spelled that wrong, and all Star Wars fanatics will burn me at the stake. But I'm too tired to look it up and correct myself. Self-justification over.

you be Starsky and I'll be....Hutch
A 'friend' of mine and I have been exchanging highly confusing and secretive emails since yesterday. The plot thickens like some bad potato stew but I hate this sort of thing. I thought we outgrew the he said, she said business in highschool. But, apparently not. Apparently, this sort of behaviour just continues on into our middle aged years.

And that just pisses me off, because I was under the impression we got smarter as time went by.

I'll memorise subversive literature...
Switch. Moving into the studio on Tuesday. I'll be spending the rest of the week painting like a mad person and settling things in. I can't imagine what things will look like, but I hope it works out ok. I'm looking forward to having my own space. And the availability of gin and tonics with live music so close by, is a big plus too.

I bought 4 towels and a shower curtain today. It's the first time in months that I've bought household accessories. Was a little bit gratifying.

And now, I'm just going to lay around in my underwear and watch Star Wars until I fall asleep. Oh, and I bought the new Sony Alpha a few days ago but I can't play with it because the store forgot to put the battery pack in the box. It's a spiffy camera. Like love in a box.


Radio Bomb - The Matthew Good Band

I always find myself staring at this screen when I get a good idea, and it wafts away like a silk scarf. But I was reading another's blog, and feeling kind of like we were on the same page. London never was what I thought it would be. I thought it could save me from myself in some sort of creepy existential way, but it never seemed to appear or grip me when I needed it most.

So, I left.

And I'm staring at my computer screen through the haze of the Imovane that isn't working for me as it normally does. That's a lie. Sometimes, it cops out alltogether, and I end up reading the backs of books I only vaguely remember, and figure what the hell, I might as well read it again.

I hate this hour. I'm the only one awake, my friends either have real jobs or I'm just the only one alive, with my eyes open at this time. Even cigarettes aren't my friends right now.

Sleep. We usually have a bloody fistfight over who is the better at some point or other. I just hate it when I lose.

Are we intrepid? Probably not. I'm never in keeping with anyone else. I'm too much work for you beauties. Like two full time jobs. Even I can't keep score anymore. And the haze is lifting. Dammit.





No S's were harmed in the writing of this entry.

Most of the time...I can keep both feet on the ground
My subconscious has an awful sense of humour. The irony is always lost on me until the next morning, when I open my eyes and wish I hadn't. Because I want to stay in the room. In the dream. and I don't even notice that she's gone...

But, I always resurface. Breaking the calm with my awareness. Like a toothache.
I still haven't forgotten your face.

I want you to be reliable, like a Volvo, or a red apple in the Fall.
It's chilly, and I want to curl up and read Kafka under a warm blanket. A fire crackling, or maybe the absent ticking of the baseboard heater, my eyes following vowels. But maybe I'll sleep better tonight, in my own bed. Red, red sheets.

There's no way to get it across that I have a hard time letting things go, especially the ones that touch me. The things that reach me. It's hard to forget. Lines in the water ripple away, the sun goes down, the moon comes up. Sky turns dark. And I can't forget. I blame my subconcious. It does have that nasty sense of humour, and it likes to kick me when I'm down.

ok, ok. I give.

Buckley sleeping on the bed, Marble talking in his sleep. Night.

Most of the Time - Bob Dylan

The S key on my laptop has popped off. I think Buckley had something to do with it, but I can't be sure...I do strange things in my sleep. It won't just pop back on, so I'll go into Futureshop and sheepishly explain that I don't have any idea what happened.

Errands in the city today. It's a clear, fine Fall day (even though it's not officially Fall yet) which is just perfect for driving. I'm not really in the mood to go places, I just want to lay here and watch movies I've watched a gazillion times. Maybe eat popcorn. Maybe nap. It seems that everytime I need to do stuff, I back off and wither on the sidelines. So easy being nothing.

Writing is coming. Waves of it. Off my tongue, through my fingers, onto the page. Indelible. Curse. The curse being that it will stop, eventually.

Anyway, I should be slinking out of bed and getting ready for the rest of the afternoon. Times goes by so quickly when I'm not watching.

We're older every second.

why should I be, anymore?
Ok, so the Cusack obsession isn't quite over yet. I cringe to use the word 'obsession' given recent events in the news regarding Mr. Cusack and a rather ardent fan, but I can't explain the need to watch Cusack related movies. Unless, it's because I fancy myself his intellectual equal (probably) and slightly overzealous polictical opinions (no, not at all). But really, it's probably because we're the same age and he makes jokes that only my generation seems to get.

Who knows? But enough pontificating about it (I just watched Annie Hall last night, obviously).

I've learned this past month that the only time you really truly come to realise the value of things is when you've lost everything. By things, I don't necessarily mean material possessions but anything; places to live, cds, books...friends. Seems as though it's always in the bottom of the 9th, that you realise you're truly fucked.

Shame.

Blue Rodeo and the crisp Fall morning today. Some trees have exploded into flames early and are busy shedding their skins to litter the ground in bright reds and runny yellows. It's enough to get the sap going. The air makes me want to take photos (of what, I don't know) and my cigarettes taste especially good in the crispy morning.

Our evening was cut short last night, as my friends and I were the first to appear on the scene of a car accident. I stayed until the fire department came to cut the guy out of the car and saying goodnight, left to crawl into my warm bed while it rained outside. I feel odd being a spectator for such things, and it's the classic reference to being a rubbernecker. Slowing down to stare at a car accident. I heard today the kid (carload of drunken teenagers) is in a coma with a collapsed lung.
Never a dull moment...?

Chunk and I will watch a few movies tonight, the fake gas fireplace is on and is toasting my toes. Buckley and Marble are tick-tacking around the laminate flooring and looking for treats. My sweet ones.

I'm trying to plan trips to San Francisco and Ireland for the next month. Moving into the studio on Tuesday. Starting and completing 2 paintings for the exhibition in October. Suddenly, I don't know where all the time went.

Fearless - The Matthew Good Band

I don't care how clean her house is!!
- John Cusack in Serendipity

That's how excited some guy should be, about being with me. *grin* but really, that part in the movie just makes me laugh. I don't really like that movie, but there are some parts to it that are worth mentioning, or remembering (in my mind).

The reason this came about, is of course because I'm still hip-deep in my John Cusack marathon (he does have an extensive catalogue), and there doesn't look to be an end in sight. I say that because I just finished watching The Ice Harvest again (for what has to be the 25th time) and laughing my butt off at the Billy Bob outtake. And I don't even really like outtakes. I'm not one of those girls that watches them after the movie to find out 'hidden' information.

Anyway, I just thought I'd mention that. Is sort of where I am at the moment.

Spent the last couple of days in Sudbury with Zheebak, hanging around, eating too much and watching a ton of movies from his quite extensive library. I finally broke down and got a cell phone, something I've not felt the need for, for quite a few months. Only two people know the number, my cousin and my psuedo-boyfriend that is never in town, Mason. I hate the word, boyfriend. It's so....icky.

The whole question of fate comes to mind a lot these days. If I wasn't doing this, then would I be where I am now? If I hadn't done that, this time last year....would I still be in London, all alone, and working in Kitchener, having all day breakfast at Country Boy with Sam?

Who knows. But we are, where we are and that's that. I talked to Cash (new opinionated person in my life) about these things, she doesn't think it's a value of our lives, but rather the value of the choices we make. How we end up where ever, is anyone's guess. But at least we sort of get to make a couple of choices along the way.

Dreams about driving endless highways, this afternoon. My last two days of insomnia were worse than usual, and I got through 4 mob movies before I came back to the Island today (Goodfellas is still so good). Anyway, I came down from unsleeping at about 4, and dreamnt of highways I used to drive, people I used to know.

Almost makes me question the fate thing, again. I can see this will be an argument I'll continue to have in the future.

Figuring out even the easiest functions of Blogger has had me frustrated. Pictures too big, unknown file names, I'm distracted by the movie I'm half-watching, blah, blah, blah.

I notice I bother with Blogger when I can't sleep. Hopefully, that won't be the way it always is. Mind you, I'm a hard core insomniac.

Who pays attention to code anyway? Really. Not me.

This week has been a lesson in patience, and I can tell that there is still tons left to learn. Next week promises to be better.

Hopefully, my John Cusack fascination has ended. Not because there's anything wrong with him, but because there are only so many times I can watch The Ice Harvest.

This is the 2nd one.