for paula

it is the kind of autumn day today
that i am told you loved
cold blue sky and every street a different colored carpet

it is my favorite time of year too
despite the sadness that change brings
this year more than ever
as meg says, autumn will always now
be colored by your death;
among the fallen leaves, your face

i'm trying to look after her
but i'm not so strong these days

i keep thinking of your face at
every choir concert of my childhood
teary and streaked with pride as we
sang our little hearts out
and i feel so lucky to have known you and
your generous love

your faith in me astounds me when i look back

i remember the importance of your weeping
as i was leaving everything behind last winter for the unknown
i was terrified and sad
and when i saw your tears it touched me more than you could have realized
and stays with me

and somehow i'm glad that autumn will forever be your season
when the trees weep for love and change

art school

emanuel is scary.

also, i like douglas coupland.

''To this day, if friends with kids in trouble ask for advice i tell them send the
kids to art school. a few times the advice has been taken, and it's always
worked out well. art, you are my jackhammer. art, you are my bulldozer.''

i also like art. i wish i stuck it out at art school. then i could have a handy tool and a piece of heavy machinery to help me through the trials and tribulations of unemployment and mopey-ness. sadly, all i have now is a degree in art history.

stupid, stupid...

well, i guess i can still make art, as scary as it is. stupid ego.

check it out. it's werner. and his shoe. bon appetit.

also, i seem to be spending far too much time on the internet since i started updating this blog. why must the internet be so infinitely interesting? i can look at the same site ten times a day and it could be different every time! that is amazing.

i need some more friends in vancouver...

harpie

in light of my ticket to see miss newsom, wikipedia says:

''Her songwriting incorporates elements of indie pop, Appalachian music, avant-garde modernism, African harp rhythms and a sensibility that some listeners describe as quirky. Many are struck by Newsom's unusual voice, child-like and weathered (at least one critic has compared it to Lisa Simpson's).''

she is so weirdly hot.

iron your carefully crafted disguise

cold and very october-esque today. the sun shines but you can see the cold hovering in the air. the sky is not quite that summer blue these days...

hmm. quit my job, got a new one. a bit more stressful but it comes with tips and free food. so.

somehow missed two parties this weekend; once for too many beers and good conversation, the second for a warm bed. so much for making new friends...

been doing a lot of over-thinking lately. it's making me self-absorbed and mopey. and i think it's time to suck it up and start appreciating all the good things in my life. i have such good friends, and even if most of you guys are a bit far away it really helps that you exist.

so, uh, i appreciate it.

i dunno. today is a bit confusing.

wage slavery,

well

first day at my "new job", if you can call it that. an hour in and i was already plotting my escape. i've realized today that as much as i may try i absolutely cannot go back to customer service minimum wage slavery... i already feel murderous and i've worked four hours.

ugh.

what will sustain us through the winter...

the clouds have come rolling in again, and does this mean that winter has rolled in for good? not sure how i will make it through the dark season, not sure exactly how things are going to come together. still no job, still no purpose, still lost in between worlds. i think all that time wandering aimlessly through different realities has left me stunted in a way - unable to settle into one soldid space and stay there. unable to feel that this is home, that this will last. and maybe it isn't home - so far it certainly doesn't feel like it.

this morning i got a flat tire, and somehow was rescued by a lady who brought me into her basement and shazam, a bike shop. more money spent, still no money made. damn.

when will things start coming together here? i miss community; it's been almost a year since i was nestled into a warm world of friends.

but i guess i just have to hold on, keep trying, keep working to make it happen.

werner herzog eats his shoe

says allmovie.com:

While he was struggling to complete his first feature-length film, documentarian Errol Morris was discussing his problems with his friend and mentor, the acclaimed German director Werner Herzog. In a moment of frustration, Herzog blurted out that if Morris ever actually finished the movie he kept talking about, he'd eat his shoe. In 1977, Morris finally completed his feature, Gates of Heaven, and he contacted Herzog to tell him that after several well received screenings at film festivals, the premier showing had been scheduled. Herzog, a man of his word, flew to the United States and cooked his shoe, eating it on-stage at the screening. Les Blank, a good friend of both filmmakers, captured the event on film for posterity, and Werner Herzog Eats His Shoe offers a witty look at how to cook a shoe, Herzog's history of keeping unusual promises, his views on the relationship between cuisine and cinema, and the movie by Morris that made the event possible.

we all live here...

hmmm...the fog has settled. winter is nigh, and i'm realizing this is the first time in a long time we've seen this kind of weather. i've spent the last ten months or so under (seemingly) eternal blue skies, and i must say i was getting a bit sick of them. this is so much more the b.c. i see in my mind.

so, me and natalie are having an ongoing debate of sorts (see: tales of mystery). but the funny thing is that i think we are arguing the same point with different arguments. we both feel frustrated with the state of things, and we both realise that there are no answers or straightforward solutions. i think that we both feel anger towards something abstract, which gives this real sense of helplessness...

i think two months back in north america has put me almost back where i began, with perhaps my eyes a bit more open. but i've realised that i've almost forgotten what it feels like to be surrounded by all these people who envy me, who desire something from me, who see me as living some ideal life they wish to emulate. i've almost forgotten how it feels to wake up to that every day, and to be unable to communicate the imperfections of my lifestyle. "well, i don't make that much money..." and yet there i was halfway across the world living off my savings for 7 months. hmmmm...

and yet almost every day i ride the bus through the downtown east side, watching out the window and understanding nothing of their experience. watching just as i watched in asia: as a priviledged outsider who can hop the next bus...

and what exactly do you do about this? what can you do, what should you do? do you give a few coins? do you make art? do you write angry letters? do you protest? and to whom? to the government, to the rich, or to the idea of poverty itself?

me, glorious me!

look, it's me. maybe if i put photos people will get excited and read my blog more. i should be in advertising.

also, i have more photos! on flickr! and if you want to see them slowly move your eyes to the right and you will see a beautiful link. i figured out how to make links and publish photos in the same week!

i'm a genius.

if you want to sing out, sing out...

well, what to say. ive been trying to figure out exactly what a blog entails; it is neither journal nor email. it is a new enigma created by the cyberworld. and what exactly do i want to say here, and who exactly am i trying to say it to. is this an advertisement for my good spelling, my ability to express myself, or is it merely a place to purge my emotions and opinions with the added benefit of an audience...

oh me oh my.

well.

ive had a bit of a crazy ride lately. trying to figure out so many things: how to live the life i want, how to start over, how to leave everyone behind, return to them and leave them behind again. and whats important to me, and what is not.
trying to deal with personal angst, with selfishness. trying to juggle my own struggle with unexpected grief, with the grief of those i love. trying to find a balance between necessary selfishness and unnecessary self-absorption. trying to deal with this sudden fear of death that leaves me each night staring through the dark, clutching at wakefulness for fear of losing everything. and the fear of losing others grips me too, a fear that is grounded in reality.

trying to start a new life. falling in love with this city and its surprises. i keep getting lost in the view on my way to the loo. at night it makes me feel like im in a spaceship looking down at some science fiction city full of flying cars and floating skyscrapers.

just finished reading 'harold and maude'. it was like watching the movie in subtitles, minus the cat stevens. it was the perfect book for the state i'm in. L-I-V-E LIVE! coming through sadness and loss with a new appreciation for how precious, how joyful life is. being human, feeling human. being thankful for each day of life, but accepting death as part of everything. a fine balance...

i still don't know what this blog is for.