February 2003 - - - my Electronic pen

the m E p.com	February 2003
my E l e c t r o n i c pen	January 2003

MARCH

February 28 2003 winter magic

she's growing so much more beautiful but than what?
and me, i'm stealing lucid moments for vivid thoughts that
come rarely. you'll notice i said stealing.

a slight pre-occupation with death might be
related to nuclear arms, terrorism, and imminent war, or
simply the result of having too much time to myself. i'm
quite convinced it's the latter; and the basis of a society that
requires constantly being connected to someone, somehow,
somewhere. i have no qualms admitting it, but i haven't met
many people who see text messaging going head to head
with immortality.

it's winter in montreal, and true to form, the neighbours age silently while we wait for the spring thaw. something odd is going on with my tolerance for cold. it exists, as though i were a teen again. i suppose dressing for the weather instead of the boardroom might explain it. the biting wind on my face actually felt refreshing as i maneuvered a baby stroller through un-plowed sidewalks, and the tough warm skin on my cheeks that resulted sent waves of skiing nostalgia through me. but weather, and talk of it, keeps us warm during these long winter months.

i'm reviewing eras, parceling in my mind's eye our lives, before she was born. setting the stones on some kind of historic map to help in the retrieval process in the future. why?
this is the time to do it - i'm watching the working folk obsessing over the price of gas and i figure that isn't any more productive. we might as well spend our time rubbing laterns. anyways the world could use a bit of magic these days.

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February 27 2003 many misc. music thoughts

i thinnk I’ve lost something here; a freshly installed machine leaves february mepping with some holes. No great loss, I fear.

cat stevens are wondering circa 1971 “where do the children play” in a world where “we’re changin’ day to day” and skyscrapers threaten to fill the sky. How easy to sink back into a mind of the seventies, along with a comforting blanket that life is as simple as what I see and feel. It makes me wonder what he would be singing about today, and in one sense I’m happy that there are in fact playgrounds left but when the show abruptly ends and I’m bombarded back into the harsh sights and sounds of modern day television, I get this overwhelming sensation of losing my virginity all over again. What a rough, impatient and unforgiving world we live in, I don’t care how many of us marched for peace two weeks ago. Don’t let marches fool you. We may all want peace, but as I watch those young people with funny eyeglasses swaying back and forth in front of three bearded men, I realize that we may no longer have any clue what peace actually is.

And I finally hear the sounds of a generation in rebellion. The music is choppy, angry, and unmelodic and these are the sweetest softest sounds that my seventies music mind has ever heard.

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“you may still be here tomorrow but your dreams may not”

I just figured out what he meant by this. And, why it’s important.

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Oh, I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow
Leapin and hoppin' on a moonshadow, moonshadow, moonshadow

And if I ever lose my hands, lose my plough, lose my land,
Oh if I ever lose my hands, Oh if.... I won't have to work no more. f
And if I ever lose my eyes, if my colours all run dry,
Yes if I ever lose my eyes, Oh if.... I won't have to cry no more.

And if I ever lose my legs, I won't moan, and I won't beg,
Yes if I ever lose my legs, Oh if.... I won't have to walk no more.
And if I ever lose my mouth, all my teeth, north and south,
Yes if I ever lose my mouth, Oh if.... I won't have to talk...

Did it take long to find me? I asked the faithful light.
Did it take long to find me? And are you gonna stay the night?

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we like to think that people like cat stevens end up as they do because geniuses are supposed to be a bit off-center. And that he was destined to be a musician with all his talent. But I’m realizing as I’m watching him that he was destined to his end, and not his beginning. That his music, a personal and emotional unavoidable expression of his enlightenment and confusion, (depending on how you look at it) got noticed as he was going along, is incidental.

and then at catstevens.com, the subtitle is ‘I never wanted to be famous’. Go figure.

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February 13 i am chloe, hear me roar

it just dawned on me the farce that was the whole feminist movement. Teaching women that we are strong and can do anything, talk about a joke. Thanks God our daughter won’t grow up in a society that first teaches her to be submissive and once she’s learned that good, sings her songs of freedom. She’ll know she is strong, by our love.

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february 11

i'm noticing sunlight casting shadows on fisher-price toys;
the rising and falling price of precious metals;
and the fire-baked woody smell of my bagels cooling as i walk home in crisp skiiy-snow and frigid winter temperatures.

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February 6

"power corrupts. absolute power corrupts absolutely"
on Colin Powel

i flip through the pages of a Bay insert, and, instead of seeing little square pictures of anything i want, i see items galore that i already have. i have a jewlery box. i've got muffin tins, i've got an iron. we've got luggage, ties, shoes, a car seat, strollers, chocolates, panties, and briefs. i've got plenty of towels, i've got sleepers for my baby. i've got furniture in my dining room and a washer and dryer in the basement. i even have a Sealy matress cover. and i don't want diamond earings. how blessed can we be, and all i need to know it is a 50 cent newspaper and a Bay insert.

poor Colin has worked his dignified soul all the way into the hands of thieves.
he'll do right again some day, and maybe sooner than i think.
a penny for your cable thoughts. ;-)