Wednesday, February 23, 2011

\\sleep not, for the future is here.

The lights are low
and the air is thick
and the bar is lined
rejected reporters
tired teachers
the rundown.
So why are you sitting down?

(day thirty-one)

listening to:
--This Is Everything, Tegan & Sara—

Time falls away from us, far faster than we can follow.
We cannot forget it, because it will not forget us.
We cannot ignore it, because it will destroy us.
If we chase it, it will elude us.
If we watch it, it will leave us.
It doesn’t hate us- it gifts us eternally with the now.
Do you like your now?

-Viens avec moi.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

I had this written much, much earlier....

(day twenty-eight)

I’m skipping days. Right and left, too. Bucketfuls of shame rain from the heavens upon me; but first, anyone have an umbrella I can borrow?

Okay. Let’s start on one of those 101 untouched goals.

One Hundred Things that Make Me Happy:
      1.   My Ipod. Portable, on-demand emotions in a stylish little package. I swim through music every day of my life, but there’s something to my ipod; ear buds trap you somewhere between the chorus and the bass line, and at 8 gigs, only my favourite albums of the moment are involved in the assault. It feels like coming home. And to think that jeans have had an ipod pocket all these years…

It’s more than just an accessory, and maybe that’s a bad thing. In a materialist society, those of us who stand up to speak out should in all likelihood toss something like this away immediately. Yeah. Right.

As for the day- I was up all day, which was nice, but it feels like a lot of wasted potential. I don’t think I was made for sitting still. In fact, I’m pretty sure that, contrary to my currently lazy habits, I wasn’t.

The moon doesn’t shine,
It smiles back.

-Viens avec moi.

Friday, February 18, 2011

God never intended for this to be easy, eh?

(day twenty-six)

I may be atheist, but the rhetoric still applies: bitch all you want, life is going to be hard. Best just learn to like it rough. *insert hearty laugh* You are the only one who controls whether you smile and love the little things. So be in control.

Still here, still alive. May have murdered the muse. I'll go dig 'er up and start resuscitation. Let you know how that goes.


Tuesday, February 15, 2011

-spoken word-

(day twenty-three)
We die, breath by breath
And the faster we fade
The more frantic we play
For those moments that we come alive.

And it’s not over,
Until you say it
                    believe it
                            dream it
                                     and see it
Walk out the door
                kicking its feet and staring at the floor
                                                         Because you threw it out.

So if you’re quitting
                    close your eyes
                               hold your breath
                         shut your mind
                                   lock the till
                                            check the windows
                                                         And leave.

Don’t look back.

Don’t leave a note.

Because there isn’t time for hemming and hawing
                                        or joking and jawing.
                                  Just get out.

You stay, you work.

Pick a direction and start walking.

We’re not against talking,
                     but pick up and step up and pick up your step
‘cause you keep standing still and you’re gonna get left.

Time doesn’t stand still it just marches on and
We’re left to chase it. We pick it all up and
Put ourselves back together on the way to forever.

Because static is stagnant.

There ain’t no status quo worth stemming the flow
because status is irrelevant.

Unplug it.

Watch the wall disappear and you’ll feel better and freer
And then suddenly and desperately alone.

A moment sans shit
No more likes no more hits
                       just you by yourself coming home.

Home to your senses,
                     home to your life,
                                             home to
What the fuck have I done with the last ten years?

Must’ve waved it along with a beer and a ‘cheers.’

Because that’s the norm.

Shit, that’s expected.

Eight years in a box just to open a life that’s missing instructions
                                        and batteries not included.

Somehow it’s eluded the best of us
                         that the solution to this mess is us.
Just you and me standing tall and free
                         to think it all out on our own.

Save the cookie cutter wisdom for the hypocrites and Christians
That cannot comprehend outside their own.

Time can’t be measured, it can’t be caught
It can’t be weighed, won, it can’t be fought;
It’s now or never, forever,
so pull it together under pressure;

 make tracks for the horizon now
‘cause there’s no point in sitting down,

The end comes as we breathe

Monday, February 14, 2011

good morning, love.

the sun falls in
scattered fragments
through the window
and across your cheek;
your eyes roam
beneath closed lids,
your breath gentle and easy
plays with the few
strands of hair
not tucked behind your ear
and your lips twitch
in dream speak;
I will lay soft and still
a day or forever
you flutter awake
and I can whisper
good morning, love.

(day twenty-two)

I have never not been single this time of year. I don’t think I would know what to do with myself if I didn’t adhere to tradition, eh.

*with the use of ‘eh’ I’d like to include a shout-out to all of my Canadian friends, many of which are just getting to bed- thank you video games; I don’t know if you celebrate whimsical holidays or not, but in the spirit of this fine one, Happy Valentine’s Day, to you especially.*

I figure if I spend the day cursing the cat, I probably won’t even notice my exclusion in the celebration. 

Besides, everyday should be a party. That’s wisdom straight from Gogol. (Bordello that is.)

Also, in case you managed to escape my frenetic tweeting: Justin Bieber’s Never Say Never is must see.   
Okay, moving quickly on.

It’s not quite nine in the morning, and I’ve been up for an hour and a half.

Now, I’m not complaining, but anyone that knows me is probably going, “What the…?”

Me too. Me too.

Here’s to tradition, new paths, and ever-living dreams.

-Viens avec moi.

Saturday, February 12, 2011


Yes, it’s foolish and
No more than the fruit
Of an overactive imagination;
And while
We can all agree that
It’s less than likely,
The wiser fool tries

It's all about perfection, isn't it?
Keira Knightley

(day twenty)

So last night, over chai tea latte, sitting on a church pew at the Flying M Coffegarage, a great undertaking was born. Co-schemer Daniel Stiefel and I are producing a short film. Moreover, we are founding a production company.

Here’s the part where I admit that I have no bloody clue what I’m doing.

But great things don’t happen when you know what you are doing. They happen when you are forced to stretch yourself.


I guess I’ll keep you posted, whoever you are that reads this pitiful thing.

I’m in a quote-y mood, so I’ll leave you with another:

All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.
T. E. Lawrence

-Viens avec moi.

Friday, February 11, 2011

//q-tips and ticket stubs//

it’s cold, so as I whisper
je t’aime
little wisps chase the words into the night
you don’t hear them
you feel them instead
dancing across your cheek with soft footfalls
 you want it again
I shake my head
eyes glinting in the near dark
the words rumor themselves back into being
slight ice crystals on the grass
shy our eyes back
and forth
a playground game
wrapped without recess
we feel our thoughts
taste our souls
and slip into being.

(day nineteen)
There is something about time spent alone that doesn’t measure up. The time slips away in the worst of ways. Things don’t get done. Everything feels off. It’s curious- for being such social creatures, we’ve managed to cripple our social lives with technology.
But I have tea.
And a living dream.
And the cat is batting around a Q-tip. My day is complete.
-Viens avec moi.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

[soy chai, please]

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness concerning all acts of initiative and creation. There is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.”
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

(day seventeen)

When a man (me) posts about tea time and the need for consistency in the simplest things, and then fails to establish said consistency immediately, he needs slapped. We’ll start the line here. *points at door*

That being said, I love this quote. For a brief moment, I begin to believe that I can do it. All of it. And then the hesitancy kicks in, which shows that I have yet to commit. I never really pegged myself for someone with a fear of commitment, but guess what: I’m wrong at least ninety percent of the time. So here’s the thing. I’m finding that I don’t exactly know how to commit.

Apparently Google can’t answer every question. I mean, "Excuse me, how do I commit suicide?" 

The place to turn when Google fails? (rather, the better option to begin with?)

My question: “What the #^$& is wrong with me?”

The answer: ““We promise according to our hopes and perform according to our fears.” – Francois de la Rochefoucauld

Fear. Of failure, of subpar, of not making it.

-Hold up. I’m afraid that I won’t make it… and that will be the reason that I won’t? Awesome.

Or, would have been the reason.

Patch that leak, boy.

We’ve oceans to sail.

Viens avec moi?

{on posting: I’ll be damned if that isn’t what a [short] blog should look like.}

[soy chai, please]

i haven’t seen you for awhile, how have you been?
 you what? really? is that a good thing?
i understand that.
so what do you want to be when you grow up?
who does.
i think that
that’s the best part.