oh, here comes the flood

i like when words capture me. and when they're set to music, it makes it that much more enchanting:

there's a stranger in a car driving down your street,
acts like he knows who you are
slaps his hand on the empty seat and says
"are you gonna get in, or are you gonna stay out?"
just a stranger in a car
might be the one they told you about

well you never were one for cautiousness
you open the door
he gives you a tender kiss
and you can't even hear them no more
all the voices of choices
now only one road remains
and strangers in a car
two hearts, two souls, tonight: two lanes

you don't know where you're goin'
you don't know what you're doin'
hell it might be the highway to heaven
and it might be the road to ruin
but this is a song
for strangers in a car
baby maybe that's all we really are
strangers in a car (driving down your street)
just strangers in a car (driving down your street)
strangers in a car

oh sleeping bear

past midnight, the soft sounds of rain on already-drenched pavement outide my window. in the background, a list of music i pulled randomly because it was something i've not heard, not listened to in forever.

my eyes hurt, and my head itches. i'm working on this paper like it's the most goddamn important thing in the world and all i can think of are things that i shouldn't be thinking at this hour, in this month, in this year, at this time of my life. the kinds of things that broadside you, leave you dazed, telling everyone no, no, i'm fine when really you need soemone to get that ice pack, find that band-aid, call that specialist.

i need more than a specialist, i think. i need a voodoo charmer, a southern louisiana swamp lady ready with her herbs and medicaines and salves. i need a medieval magician and a modern man. i need a cup of tea and a dose of hello.

i desire the sun. fresh fruit on a platter in early morning sunshine, hands from my favourite people reaching out simultaneously to grasp at the pulpy flesh. they all tell tales- the fruit and the hands- and i want to assimilate them all, making this forever. and i want it to be over so i know what exactly it all means.

static flight. immoving accleration. negative positives.

i love.

the words that make you say 'hey, where you going?'

liz and i sprawl across the stone pathway leading to the centre-block of parliament, our arms flung wide and our eyes focussed on the night sky above.

i point with my right arm to the big dipper, and we spend the next five minutes searching for the north star, which, we discover, is quite difficult from our prone position. factor in the red wine/martinis consumed and the fact that it's almost one a.m., well, i don't think we can be blamed for failing to find north.

what we do find is a small group of boys, walking slowly. we end up singing alanis morissette to each other across bank street, laughing at the weird combination of 'you oughta know' and 'ironic' that the randoms come out with. inspiration hits at barrymore's- we dash inside and dance to the last eight songs, laughing heartily when the lights come on and we realize we're two of eight people left in the massive hall.

when i wake up it to the feel of red wine soaked limbs, the desire for something potatoe based, and the thought that sometimes the best plan is absolutely no plan, supplemented by red wine.

calling this a home when it's not even close

graduation is looming.

this makes me indescribably happy. granted, i'm also scared shitless. but i'm more pleased than i can really say that i'll be able to walk across the damned stage, get my piece of paper and be able to say "yeah, that's right. i finished."

what i am not pleased with, however, is the increase in that question that every single undergrad dreads:

"so... what are you going to do with that?"

maybe this is made even worse by the fact that i am getting a degree specifically in humanities. people see or hear that and smile and tell me how nice that is and how wonderful the humanities are. i can tell though, that behind their eyes what they're really thinking is about the broccoli that's on sale and how nice it would go with a some beef and mushrooms with noodles in a kind of stroganoff sauce.

you know what i'm going to do?

i'm going to appreciate bare feet, sunday morning breakfasts, roomates first thing in the morning, hardwood floors, and sunshine at right angles. i'm going to read cookbooks for fun, ondaatje for depth, stephen king for thrills, frank herbert for inspiration, and tolkien for comfort. i'm going to wash baseboards and dishes and buy tea towels every other week. i'm going to walk places, wear inappropriate clothing at parliament, take photos of houses i like, and fight with the pigeons on my balcony. i'm going to work a job that is completely new, completely foreign, and completely captivating because of this. i'm going to plant a small herb garden in pots so i can have lots of thyme. and rosemary. and basil. i'm going to dance by myself in my room at three o'clock in the morning. i'm going to watch battlestar gallactica at odd hours. i'm going to laugh, and stretch, and moisturize far more than i need too.

so, what am i going to do with my degree?

i'm going to live.

no matter what you say, no matter what you do

i find myself falling in love with words.

veracity is a good one. it rolls off my tongue like sweet brown sugar and cinnamon folded in the layers of a sticky bun. i'm also parital to depth, the way the p and the th play off of each other, balancing like an egg on a spoon during a picnic race on a hot july afternoon. and then there's lithium which is poised and sharp, like good old cheese, wrapped in butcher's paper and consumed after midnight with a bottle of merlot to the backdrop of heat leaching from sun-soaked pavement.

spicy, scoundrel, doom, wheat, and grant are also particular favourites.

the hard consonants and soft rounded vowles play off of each other, giving, taking, complimenting, enhancing, completing.

i think it's quite sexy.

when the world was just a pancake

i've got nothing but someone else's words filling me up this evening, reminding me of the importance of strength, compassion, joy, perserverence, friends, love, and the recognition that sometimes, the hardest thing to do is just be.

talk about a dilemma between living and life. i am -continuosly- astounded and amazed by the world.

in conclusion, some other words that are helping to fill some other holes:

while i was watching you did a slow dissolve

did i imagine or do the walls have eyes?
did i imagine they held us hypnotized?
did i imagine or do the walls have eyes?

life in slow motion- somehow it don't feel real.

it's all messed up

there is no way that anyone will ever convince me that bach's organ fugue in g minor is a great piece of music.

ever. eveeeeeeeeer.

a smile that won't wash away

there's a line my younger brother used when he was writing a story once, about the days bleeding into one another.

that's what the days have been doing- bleeding into one another, losing part of themselves as they slowly merge into each other, creating something uniform and slightly tangy, with copper overtones.

i've found myself talking incessantly in the past few days. less time spent alone and solitary than usual for this time of year. i've learned things, had facets of people revealed to me that have heretofore been unknown. sometimes they don't even know they've let this bit of self slip out. i always wonder about that- should i let them know i've figured something out, that some characteristic of their self has been revealed? but then of course, with my continual blather i'm sure i've let much more of myself slip in the past weeks than i'm aware, and it's never mentioned to me.

i've had a dream, recurring, for weeks now, about a girl named virginia.

she looks so familiar, and so beautiful- it's driving me batty just trying to figure out who, exactly, she belongs to. because i've become convinced that she belongs to somebody, and obviously somebody i know.

her message is just as enigmatic as her identity- i feel that perhaps if i could place her, what she says might become clear. i sense not uregency, but rather deep importance, but every time she talks the wind from the ocean sweeps her words away before i can make them out.

i wonder what freud would say?

last cigarettes

i feel like dancing and crying and cooking and sweeping and painting and swimming and walking and sleeping and reading and drawing and drinking and watching and describing and talking and laughing and eating and driving and screaming and crying and just being.

come with me.

just so confused about it

i have been searching all day for the approrpiate words to describe last night.

i don't know if that's even possible. i've been blessed with an amazing group of friends- people who i treasure and love more than i ever imagine possible. seeing them last night, dressed in suits with funny ties [snowmen and stripes and horrific diamond patterns yessss] and dresses that prove that yes, we're young women with womanly attributes afterall- the effect it's had on me is close to being beyond words.

if i could, i'd pull each of my friends aside and i'd tell them that they're beautiful, inside and out. the compassion, strength, conviction, intelligence and joy they share with me and everyone else has left an indelible impression that will remain until i am old, wearing work socks with sandals feeding my clowder of cats.

i have snapshots of moments, dancing lights reflected off of faces, arms twirling, hair swinging, teeth showing.

more indelible impressions.

you might wonder when the day will come

my coffee mug is the warmest thing in my room.

little curls of steam rise from the oily liquid surface, curling around my nose. the heated ceramic makes my fingers tingle- it's the only way to warm them up, or so i've discovered. if i could grip the cup with my feet, bringing warmth to my lowest extremity, i would.

i feel soemthing coming on. i'd like to use the word premonition. but in a non-neagative sense. saturday night is going to be something else.

i painted my nails.

erm....what. theff?

life in slow motion- somehow it don't feel real

kelly and i stopped at zaks's after two hours in the gallery. we felt we needed some sustenance, and friend bad-for-you susteneace at that, given that that previous night had involved a high class social gathering and the royal oak- consecutively.

after diet coke and fried potaoes, we slipped away with the new australian waiter luaghing in our wake. kelly made a comment about food coma, and me, being me, signalled my agreeement by doing a frankenstein-esque groan that was quite drawn out.

of course the couple in front of us turned around to stare.

of course they were laughing.

of course they thought i was crazy.

and, of course, kelly and i laughed all the way to parliament.

there's something so indescribable about family, about actually being able to have long silences without awkwardness, and using short-hand, about small words and minimal gestures and slight quirks.

it's one of my favourite things of life.