The lights don’t go out until about 10 at night. I’ve been intending to write a real entry for about a week, but I figured that since I wasn’t around a reliable internet connection that I would wait until then to post.

But things have been running through my mind and I just feel like putting it down somewhere, no matter whether or not anyone else would ever read it. I figured I could be a private minded female version of Hemmingway, or Thoreau.

I’m in Hall Beach, Nunavut now. I’ve settled (mostly) into my new home and I seem to spend a lot of time looking out the windows at the other houses, the people walking by, the way the light hits the snow makes a white line of the horizon.

The one constant thing I’ve seem to cling to is the music I’ve been carrying with me. Pete Yorn in my ears, Matt Good, a song called Apple Orchard by a band called Beach. The music makes me a little home sick but at the same time, it’s comforting. It’s like hearing everything for the first time. Again. And again.

The weather is like a warm December. Light snow, a sun that seems to feel like it belongs on a Hawaiian beach then above the Arctic circle. It really is incredible to see and feel.

On my way to work, I listen to Safe and Sound by Hawksley Workman. I can picture the trees, the colour of the leaves, the way the sleepy towns look when you drive through...his music is so visual to me.

My plane rides were annoying (stewardess craziness) and I was travel-weary when I finally arrived in Hall Beach (I had spent a week in another community in Nunavut prior to getting here) and was tired of packing and unpacking. Unpacking my blankets for the last time (hopefully for awhile) is a very nice feeling.

One area of interest is the DEW line up here. Just google it and see what you come up with. I am now, your first line of defense...*grin*

Labels: Arctic Circle, cold, hawksley workman, music, Nunavut, Pete Yorn, snow

I don't think I do well in interviews. Wonderful idea: If only I could hire someone to do an interview in my place, using only my knowledge.

I guess I will have to wait for the invention of the good kinds of robots.

I stubbed my toe the other night. And I also cut off most of my hair. The two are not related. My hair used to be about 15 inches (from my shoulders) long, and I decided that I'm tired of it, want a change, lets pretend I can pull off a short hair cut and voila! a hair cut the stylist *swore* was the perfect cut for my face shape. Think Meg Ryan hair style (You've Got Mail) only not as thin and not as cute. The great thing about hair is that it grows back. (Hopefully).

I never did seem to pull off thin very well. But it's just the way things are in this world.

When I hear the words: snow drops, I think of smooth melting edges of snow. Cold water dripping and birds fluttering around the nearest trees. They cry for things I have no knowledge of.

Its damp outside right now. The snow has melted down a little. Snowman making snow. Buckley leaves little footprints you can follow, although you may look a bit like you're having a seizure because he is always all over the place. He loves it here more than I do.

The trees don't speak to me on this part of the planet. When I do manage to drift off to sleep, I wait for the sounds of raining water, or crashing seas. I always hope for the sound that I can listen to, for the rest of my life. But I haven't heard it yet.

The entire family will be descending upon the city of London (Ontario) for the holidays. It will be loud, there will be many people (on the Greek side) and I will try to fold myself into a dark corner where I will smoke cigarettes and drink champagne. Then, maybe I will rent a cheap motel room and sleep there with the dogs.

I feel the tug of the current and it jerks me down like a shark taking a bite. Topside cigarettes taste the best.

Labels: cold, Gish, Manitoulin Island, melancholy, Northern Ontario, smoking, winter, writing

believe your truth is not my truth...
Just some thoughts that are rolling around in my mind at the moment. When I go outside to smoke a cigarette, I turn my eyes towards the back of the property where I hear strange sounds. Rustling leaves and tree branches kissing or maybe mauling each other. There are the towering cedars that creak when they rub against one another. The dark keeps the woods' secrets. I am not brave enough to discover them for myself.

My bed is warm on the inside. I keep my room cold, the pets invariably make their way underneath the covers. The snow and the cold have made Manitoulin Island their winter home. I wish I could keep chilled wine and beer for the visitors I don't want to have, but there isn't any room in the refrigerator except for real things like food and salted butter sticks.

Instead, I keep small bottles of champagne in the trunk of the car and smuggle it in when the mood strikes. Not tonight, too cold to venture out. Instead, my head is rolling around the room with it's own inebriation.
what was it like just to have it all slip through your hands...?
Oh...it felt like loss at first. Now I can't even remember what I had. And if I do, it only comes to me at night when I'm asleep. The images flit hither and thither. Then I awake to melancholic feelings that dissipates as quickly as a cool mist.

Most times.

the waters beginning to freeze here...solid by morning...
The lakes on this island have already frozen over. Whether or not I venture out into one of them for photos this year remains to be seen. It is cold in my bones tonight. I am not sleeping like I should again. Seems so easy to slip back into the welcoming arms of insomnia. Hello dear friend.

saw on your face such a curious grin as I let go your hand, was desperate to hold you again but you're sinking, too deep in the water......so easily gave up what I wanted....
So true. So hard to forget.


Devil By my Side - David Usher
Tomorrow Comes - David Usher
St. Lawrence River - David Usher

Labels: cold, David Usher, ice, insomnia, Manitoulin Island, Northern Ontario, winter

cleavage {18/365}
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

First, when I think of love, marriage, or the connection two people can experience in two second standing over a candy machine being introduced, I think of little photographs I would like to take. His kissing of the inside of my knee. Whoever he is, sleepy eyed and freshly awakened by my moments in bed on a sunny Saturday afternoon. His hands on my face. His hands in mine. Him. Whoever he is. That's what I think of, when I think of what it would like to be in love. I think I have it all wrong. But that's ok! Because I wouldn't want to spoil my near perfect record.

Some news drifted this way about a Hawksley Workman show, and I think I will attend because it's been awhile since he was my man. *grin* Sorry folks, only Matt Good and Hawksley fans would 'get' that last little bit.

I just realised how melancholy the song; Purple Rain is. Melancholy in that all I didn't know I had, when I had it. Shit, I hate when that happens.

I'm practically chain smoking over here, about to go lie down and try for some sleep, read a bit and listen to a movie in the background.

Let's see what is new with me: new fridge (landlord paid for, of course), new gym membership (because I really am too fat for words, at the moment), new webcam (which is so seedy but I couldn't resist the portability and the fact that I have never ever, ever been on a webcam before), and I guess that's it.

Ok, so here is the end of the entry. If you've read this far then you'll know that what you read below, is not my writing but that of Hawksley Workman. And if he were real and not an apparition, he is the sort I would fall in love with.

written by Hawksley:
the downy feathered chests of proud hawks sitting timeless in highway sidetrees. and this morning i was up so early. pissed outside under thestars. 5:30 am. i thought of winter ravens. that maybe they fly atnight. imperceptibly. between the dots of bright galaxies. and the batsmust be asleep through this. skied through the cold today. a pure blueconnection from me to the beyond. the horses wore blankets in immaculatefields. there's a natural order to things. harmony is the only option.did aristotle say the birds flew under the ice in winter? i'm incrediblypositive these days. i see possibilities. i see hope. it's been a funnywhile in the music biz, i must admit. over the last year or so i'verecorded a lot of music. my love and faith is restored every time i playlive these days... but the studio is testing me... my patience, myfaith. i feel the deck stacked against me... but i've never felt morefocused and fresh... i made a record... finished it before christmas.somewhere between then and now it was shelved in favour of starting over again from scratch. the record felt like a lover i grew apart from...when it was finally completed we looked like strangers to each other.kiss... it's been lovely... i need to be alone. i've been working with my brilliant neighbour and friend andre wahl... he's a real clever kid who, back in the autumn picked me up and dusted me off... so we're planning to start again for real this time... early march. as i said earlier... playing reminds me of the importance of connection... i feel blessed to be able to travel and play. the starling tour saved my life... again i thank all those who shared those nights with me... it was amassive reconnection with myself and the music. over the next while i'm going to play a few shows... get back in shape... i want my voice to soar (not a sore voice though) when i get back into the studio... so please i say... reach for what's positive... cherish love and peace...seek it in heart and mind... i have such a wonderful feeling for the year. may wisdom be yours too. h.

Labels: Apostle, cold, drama, fridge, habits, hawksley, hawksley workman, how not to be an idiot, inspiration, late night, layers, love, Matthew Good, melancholy, neurotic, opinions, Prince, webcam, writing

Dear Cowboys,
I haven't felt like I have anything interesting to say. Then someone tells me that Prince did a bunch of old songs at the Superbowl thing. I'm not a Superbowl kind of girl so I would have never seen it.

God Bless Youtube.
And Prince.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iK4EwxRLiik

I've been on this Prince kick since the original Apostle reminded me of the Purple Rain album. I even rented Purple Rain on pay-per-view last week. Then I had a good cry because someone didn't like where I was from (long story, not worth telling again).

My temporary job hours are killing me. I spend most days trying to sleep, except I keep hearing this ringing. By the time I finally figure out it's the phone, the person has hung up. I call Craig back because I miss him and leave him message. Then he calls me right back and we chat. He wrote a song called 'Nothing and Everything' for me and it's going on his new album. I'm a tiny bit afraid to find out what the song says, but curious as well. In my incapacitated state, I told him I just wanted him here, now in my bed to cuddle. It's something like -30 with the windchill around here lately. And I just can't get warm.

I've been eating popcorn and cupcakes for dinner a lot lately. Bad, I know. But quick, satisfying and that's all I'm after right now. I'm on a mission to take some photographs for a theme at The Cooperation. I have my song titles and I'm almost ready to shoot. I just need a few...erm...things first. I'm going to have way too much fun with this.

I have to spend some time with Buckley before he forgets I'm the boss, and show my face in the living room so my television set remembers me.
Love,
G.

Labels: cold, Craig Bancroff, cry, Gish, inspiration, photography, Prince, song