______________________________________________________
June 27th  ... friday ... 2003                                            

dear diary,
sorry about the swearing. but what's up with my being interupted while laying
on my bed singing a lullaby to my sleepy child to have a stranger fire personal
questions at me about what channels i currently have on my TV? where's the
logic in this life, i'm sorry.

unfortunately another mEp-words that i scribbled down lately (amongst many)
are the ailing-and-only-getting-worse state of childcare situations in this city.
there seems to be many situations that are decaying, quality of service -anywhere-
costs of some things which soar for no reason (like if the phone man comes to my
house and my phone is broken it will cost me 66 dollars. if it's their phone lines
that are broken then it's 99. is there logic in that, no only, gradual decay.
but! we can buy all kinds of great plastic stuff made in china at the dollar stores
for really, really, cheap. yes, the quality of life is certainly a mystery these days.

some sweltering heat being lifted in this city as i sit and try to make up for weeks of
baby-comings and doings. mEp-words go thru my mind often, so in it, i'm here even if
you're not - this is not a disappearing thing for me. i live thru my words even if they're
not written down. she's a part of it, but i'm still growing on my own inside. what aches me
most, and what i try not to think about, are the dear friends i do have, scattered about the
planet, not near me or down the street as debby and terry were, going about their lives
in their own spaces and mine, emptier inside as i am, as our lives get older and more
solitary. we grow ourselves away from each other - semi-purposefully, as we become
more narrow in our thoughts and deeds; and end up somewhat surprised and often
saddened, that all the shoulders we used to know and love are as empty as ours.
and we sit and write about it in our diaries, making connections only in our lonely hearts,
while filling up our days flitting and buzzing, stopping mostly only with enough time and
energy as birds lit upon a wire.


the end of june for me is akin to the end of the year; since july is the pinnacle of life in this
city, it might as well be the beginning of the ending.

happy heat, happy june, happy july.

_______________________________________________________
JUNE 13th  ... friday ... 2003                                            

dear god,
i'm sorry i hung up on the nice telemarketing lady.
i realize she's just trying to feed her family,
but this world is a fucked-up place sometimes.

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JUNE 5th  2003                                              whose birthday is it?

there are places you just don't send your brain when you have a child.
luckily for me, i still venture into most of the same places i did before.

i like those places, they entertain, they enchant, they invite.

slowly but surely, my skin is coming back.

the French one is easy-going; she makes things easier and she doesn't
even know it.

_______________________________________________________
JUNE 4th  2003                                              divers

he is off to watch the stupidifier.

i bumped into my grade 6 teacher a few weeks ago. she looks exactly the same.
talking to her is like going back in time and forward all at once, something that
shouldn't be possible. i can't help but see both the same woman we were so afraid
of in 1976, and a lonely, insecure eccentric, openly embarrassed and apologetic for
her behaviour towards me when i was eleven years old. time is a powerful thing.

but she has integrity; and this is something that above all, the world could use
a little of.


i so often get angry that so many drivers seem unaware of the rules of the road;
but it finally dawned on me that this phenomenon is not so special, one can lump
it in with the myriad of other aspects of human behaviour as it decays.

________________________________________________________
may 26  2003                                                 my     self

it just dawned on me; i'm the same person i was.
sitting quietly listening to Lisa Nilsson, bittersweet inspiration is
injected into me as i reminisce not only of our time in stockholm,
but simultaneously of life itself as it was before - and actually,
still is. there's no point spending too much time in the past;
or the future. but both of these are tall orders.

________________________________________________________
may 22  2003                                                 miscellany

the more good bread i eat the harder it is to find good bread
and although in general, i enjoy generalizations, i won't extend
this thought toward people.
a few thoughts:

-should we stop eating animals?

-all press is tabloid these days - i have few qualms about this generalization

-yes, i'm avoiding subjects of deep desire;
i'm sounding typical;
my neck is stiff.
but i'm still here - me - inside all of this - making dreams of sunshine and squinchy-face,
getting closer and closer to something unavoidable - wondering and having time to do,
which is not a natural state for me.

my legs are cold - ! - i'm cold all over.

___________________________________________________________________________
may 18  2003                             ny

the other day on mr. roger's neighbourhood,
they visited a girl in Africa as she went to school.

i don't suppose you saw it..

first we see her, sitting outside their hut, and with her mother supervising from the stoop,
she washed her hands and feet from a bucket of water with only her hands.
she then combed her short curly hair with a huge afro pic.
her mother gave her a piece of dark looking bread wrapped in a clean cloth for
her lunch, and she happily strolled off to school through the brush. as she went,
she passed other huts with other mothers and children preparing for their days
in a likewise way. at school, the teacher broke off bits of chalk and handed them
out one by one to eager hands reaching up from the crowd of roughly 200 students,
crammed side by each into one room. they learned their sums
on small blackboards, and learned english words with pictograms.



one of my deepest longings; a dream of mine that is so great it already exists in my mind,
is that everyone on the planet will one day live that way. am i the only on this planet who
pains to think of millions of women blow-drying and curling their hair every morning?

___________________________________________________________________________
may 14  2003                             night and day

there are several states of magic in the city.
following blissfully humid hot august nights, pristine blankets of snow-covered cars, and the new summer
sunshine after the long winter's work, there's the less-talked about rainy spring nights in early may.
it's warm enough to walk, but the long rainy day has left few stragglers on the still-bustling-with cars streets.
i'm stuck in a ribbon of bright red lights as the construction crews set up shop for the night to come. i zig-zag
out of the slow-moving brigade and take the side streets home. i recall a time, not so long ago, when i wouldnt
have known this route. the streets are quieter here, and everything a streetlamp hits shines in oposing darkness.
the city looks clean, in a rare moment. white painted gables and huge wooden balconies built in the thirties gleam.
i squint and slow down as i turn dimly-lit corners; there is no trace of the damp smell of melting snow, no residual
rotting leaves in the troughs; what i can't see this night is the greenery in full bud, perennials bursting forth from a
melted soil, and white magnolia blossoms preceding leaves on frail trees in some bizarre trickery of nature involving
positive photosynthesis and other meddling theories.



babies don't know when they are lying on a mattress which has been engineered with
patented Dual Support System innerspring, luxurious cushioning layers and fashion-forward cover fabrics
do they?

____________________________________________________________________________
may 10  2003                             pooped

the news is back to normal. even Greenspan says so. he complains that they have to think again.

i was energetic; but it just left me in one fell swooooooooooooop and a big yawn. the little one is asleep.

the big one is out. the sun shone today in a marvelous display of springtimeness; and both the little one

and i got down and dirty.

there's nothing left; i can't even think hard enough to think. i am waiting for those days to come back.

they will. i'll make sure they do. there's a TON of stuff i want to say, trust me.

into the tub. let's hope the water is hot this time.

____________________________________________________________________________
may 8  2003                             the nanny searching days

birthdays on boats and glorious sunny skies; i'm wine-weary and unphysical.
but, i read something this morning that supports some theories of his, scariest of scary.

"when president Bush appeared [] to announce the imminent scourging of Iraq, it was a wonder that
he didn't speak in tongues. his topic was geopolitical, but his message was religious, the blank expression
engraved in his face disquietingly similar to the thousand-yard stare of the tru believer gazing into the mirror of
eternity. Reading first from a phrophetic text, and then, for the better part of an hour, answering questions from the
assembled scribes and pharisees, the president bore witness to a revelation mounted on four pillars of holy wrath:
1. America allies itself with Christ and goes to war to rid the world of evil
2. Iraq is Sodom, or possibly Gomorrah
3. Saddam is the Devil's pawn
4. Any nation that refuses to join the 'coalition of the willing' deserves to perish in the deserts of disbelief

(.............)

Left to his own or his speechwriters' devices in front of an open microphone, the president seldom
misses a chance to restate the good news in the language of the bible:
"The liberty we prize is not America's gift to the world, it is God's gift to humanity"
"We do not claim to know all the ways of Providence, yet we can trust in them, placing our confidence in
the loving God behin all of life, and all of history"
"Events aren't moved by blind change and chance ... [but] by the hand of a just and faithful God"
"The crew of the shuttle Columbia did not return safely to earth, yet we can pray that they are safely home"

-Lewis H. Lapham 'Shock and awe' Harpers Magazine May 2003 p.8

so if there's nothing wrong with faith, why is this all so freaking eerie?



with each passing day, more words are impossible to write here and so they fill up my head and cause me stress.
what do people do with their unsayables; do these drive them to cut you off?, to eat too much?, cheat on their taxes?
maybe people avoid life in order to avoid unsayables. maybe some people don't even have any; but i doubt it.

___________________________________________________
may 5  2003                             

no great marvel-ouses today; but shoulders down and warm breezes blowing over them.
up in summit park, it's name becomes very self-explanetory; one couldn't be further from the top of the world.

____________________________________________________
may 4  2003                             

comes the end of the day and the house isn't cleaner and my list isn't shorter.
so many songs come to mind, when there's finally time at the end of the day but
no energy left to do what i would have done at the start. mEpping, for one, which
brings me resolve, takes calmness and clarity that just isn't left after 8PM with a
wrinkled brow and sore feet.
when she's finally asleep; my brain is so fuzzy that i can't even remember what it was
i set out to do in the morning. and today, we slept until noon.
and my list looks like this:

-card for nat
-call RR
-album for pix
-mirror for chloe
-clean up
-put ad on website
-get # from neighbour
-rack to inlaws
-call TLC
-microphone for dad

____________________________________________________
april 24  2003                             

i went to a wedding in Boston when i was seventeen. my aunt tried to hook me up
with a young doctor guy for the evening. i don't recall his name. he drove a white car.
i wore a pale blue dress with white stripes, a high collar, and a tie.
aside from those details, all i remember is an overwhelming sense of excitement.
the world was a big place. i was nearly an adult. Americans were exciting, alive, and they
took me semi-seriously.

that was a long, long, time ago.

i don't see why she won't stay young for at least a few years more.

______________________________________________________
april 23  2003                             sleepy day

i will pay one hundred and six dollars of TAX on car and house insurance this year.
those just sound like incredible numbers to some people.

______________________________________________________
april 22  2003                             EARTHEN VESSELS


We hold a treasure not made of gold,
in earthen vessels,
wealth untold,
one treasure only
the Lord, the Christ,
in earthen vessels

______________________________________________________
april 21  2003                             the house that lives have lived in

then there's the house that takes 10 minutes to pass. an old stone house, jutted up close to the sidewalk
overlooking the grayness of the city below, which can clearly be seen if you rudely peak stares through the many
small windows. a painted wooden staircase is visible from one, and porch doors with the old-fashioned brass handled
doorknobs from another. nothing fancy, for sure, but as i walk by it i imagine myself one by one, in each of it's empty rooms.

i imagine who has lived there; children who have ran through it's hallways and played in it's nooks and crannies.
cleaning staff who also might drink their coffee in a room with a view.
i imagine the books and the parcels that have passed through it's doors,
the chandeliers that have graced its ceilings,
and the silk bowties that its owners have surely worn.
i know it smells musty now, but hasn't always and won't for long.
i live it's many lives in a flash as i walk passed it,
and then, it's gone, once the back wheels of the stroller have passed the last stone.



i noticed the listing in the classified. it's listed as 'needing work', pricetag: 2.9 million dollars.

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april 18  2003

"it's too old and cold and settled in it's ways"
-Joni Mitchell on Paris

"i think it takes a great deal of strength to believe in something you can't really put your finger on"
Malka  Marom on Joni Mitchell

______________________________________________________
april 16  2003

9 months is starting to sound like some time has flown. need some photographs to prove it!

the plants, multiplying, are watered and actually blooming towards the squeaky-clean windows. aside from mushy breadcrumbs turned crunchy in two days, the house remains dust and dish-free. Time magazines painted in red with large war shots, however, scattered throughout the house - are always available for a quick read or a chew, whoever you are. the bills are paid; the parcel mailed; and even that annoying voter reminder card finally made it to the recycling bin. and, we won. so there's a squareness about, like a square meal -not soup which is round - leaving me yes, a tad bored, underinspired, but square, and satisfied.

the child's singsong comes from her soul; says he. small prayers counting my blessings during this Easter week, include the sequence of life events that have he and i sitting at the same dinner table listening to our little one coo. it's a long story, says she; and there are those days that even with those thoughts in the forefront, i choose a stoic quietness in lieu of taking any risky steps towards braggery. my nature is completely on or off, like that.

____________________________________________________
april 12  2003

spring arrived in montreal today, and so did we alongside it. sweaty backs and sore eyes from squinting aren't something to complain about when you can finally sit on a terrace drinking a cold beer in a Tshirt. the little one was a joy in the sun as she kicked her tiny pink running shoes up and down from the bottom end of the stroller. from mile end to the other, folks strutted, sipped and sashayed, flat red shoes and all.

so a treat tonight as i stare at the lovely blueness here with little to say, socks folded but the rest of the rooms in semi dissaray, nothing serious i'm assuming dispite my crawly skin. another Saturday with rest but not much accomplished when you eat lunch at 4 in the afternoon unintentionally. everything is bunched on Sundays when you?re in the mood to browse thru other people's houses. and apparently Thursday nights when easter is coming and peace teams return from war.





and later on i'll toss and turn pushing eternity of death thoughts from my muddy brain.

____________________________________________________
april 11  2003                                                    

wars come, wars go. it?s about as screwed up as it is. is there such
thing as an anticlimatic ending to  a war, only CNN will do that to you.

a sign over the church near the mall says ?believe in jesus and you will be saved?.
and it struck me; there is no lie in that, but only the deepest of irony.





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april 10  2003                                                           Bagdhad                         

it shouldn?t come as a surprise that the circle of life
we've created lands me nights, in a sticky quagmiire of ?the death fears?
but it does, and that?s just another of life?s conundrums. for me,
that circle is as expansive as the universe, as endless as time;
and both of those only spell death to me.

____________________________________________________
april 04  2003

by the time we?re deeply entrenched in adulthood, there is much of childhood we forget. but as long as she is still a child, those memories remain. i musn?t forget that.

in modern times, we send emails to priests, real estate agents, and into war zones.
in our ?pret-a-porter? world, everything?s at our fingertips, yet we don?t feel very connected to anything, do we.


it?s harder to be nice when i?m underfed, stressed, and tired. even for me, it takes energy to perform random acts of kindness. so is it any wonder that oppressed, starving nations of people are killing one another?

___________________________________________________
april fools, 2003                                           

 ?the coverage of this war is as close to the truth of this war as reality TV is to real life. at a moment like this, the media should be an irritant, shocking us, shaking us, making sure that we?re as alert and uncomfortable as possible in the comfort of our living rooms.
war is a force of primal disorder; we are a society afflicted by the illusion of orderliness.?

Joe Klein, Time Magazine Canadian edition April 7, 2003

yes, afflicted. that is the word i would use.  how many times do i hear my friends who are actually in touch with themselves speak of being in control? how do i maintain control, if i think i don?t need it? can i be that special? is my self confidence so impervious? am i asking myself a rhetorical question? was that a rhetorical question?