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

april

March 30, 2003

‘And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light becaues their deeds were evil” For ALL WHO do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.” John 3:14-21

God is rich in forgiveness – but are we? and to forgive first ourselves, or last?

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March 28, 2003 ”the bombs bursting in air”

on a balmy late march night, i sulk into silent darkness for what seems like an eternity of waiting for some quiet time to myself, my thoughts. without so much as putting away boiled mashed carrots, all i require is a tall glass of water and this time and space to allow my shoulders to fall.

when it’s eleven degrees in this city on a Friday night in late march, things buzz. heading toward the city from the burbs at seven-forty PM, tail lights form a never-ending ribbon of energy heading downtown. mine are included on this night, but i am not. i certainly don’t mind. i’ve done my share. tonight, it’s just me and CNN for a while and hopefully plenty of much-needed shuteye after that.

margaret atwood writes a letter to the Globe and Mail today. in a sad moment for all of us, she reminisces of the America we used to know; Mickey Mouse, Ella Fitzgerald, Elvis, Huckleberry Finn, Thoreau, Walt Whitman, Emily Dickenson. America was fun, she writes. and then “you put God on the money”. i won’t attempt to paraphrase the rest.

you don’t have to be margaret atwood to remember a kinder, gentler America. where are the Bruce Springsteen’s of today? today’s rock groups? ‘real’ American Idols? heck, i’d even settle for the mysteriously disappearing Garth Brooks.

it feels good to write about music and literature in light of what is actually going on in the world this week. something we can believe in once we come home from church. and there, i pray that this bleak moment in time is only a blip on the horizon in this still dawning age of aquarious.

______________________________________________________March 24, 2003 war time

eventually, thoughts of ‘i’m lucky not to be at war’ are doused by sheer volume. as if wearing large headphones, we’re trapped into war thoughts – and ultimately, war itself.

there seems to be no respite this time; is it my age?

it’s me and snootsy on in the inside; looking out at only war, only war.
i turn, and it’s war. like a hard casing on my back, i shake, and casings of war break off – but they grow back before large tax refunds seem to matter.

it’s situation out of control in this SUV world – and i imagine i’m as ill-prepared for it’s consequences as the next guy. and finding it just as difficult to go to a place where in 2003 one man against one man still means many men will die

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later on.

if i’m critical of the world; i’m critical of myself.
where is the line drawn between a stereotype and an insult? do i have to insult myself first before i proceed to blame someone else’s personality traits on which city they’re from? it’s only because it’s a beautiful thing. perhaps that’s the form of control i command. i don’t really require any in my day to day life, but i’m certainly guilt of parceling you depending on where you’re from. i’ll tell you what you’re wearing, what you’re eating, and how much you’ll pay for a martini.

the water sound was corey’s toilet backfiring.

i’m spending too much time here, complaining, but i’m enjoying the ventilation. a bit of brain exercise i guess for someone who wasn’t quite sure when this would finally catch up to her. and this is only the tip of the iceberg, as you can imagine, with so many Daves.
(often she wishes that when they were born, she had named one of them Bodkin Van Horn)
Look, I’M not the only one who seems to have a perverse fascination with Mrs. McCave and her twenty-three Daves.

March 14, 2003

mia kirshner strikes me immediately as a glaringly pretentious manic depressive who wouldn’t know a real emotion if it hit her in the face. “some actors like to sequester themselves, but at the end of the day in retrospect” be nice, poots.

but it’s mid march and little toots and i are still sequestered in our duplex waiting for the spring. we’re getting slightly manic, ourselves. God knows, we know how to out-pretense the next guy.

flailing urges to spend and save, my precious metals aren’t so precious these days. although war is inevitably dead-ahead, there’s this collective global denial thing going on. i’m praying for myself while i watch my investments hinged on war. it’s the most adult-like sin i’ve ever committed and i ain’t proud of it.

i hear a small coogly voice coming from the back room. tiny and edible, like the words on this page.

now if i could only figure out where that water running sound is coming from…

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March 13, 2003 why i hate daycare

let me count the ways:

?span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'> the masses do it

?span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'> the masses do it blindly

?span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'> breeding ground for obedient, tax-paying corporate citizens

?span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'> breeding ground for viruses

?span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'> as mrs. partridge said to danny upon realizing that his hampsters had bred beyond oblivion: “Danny, you just can’t spread your love that many ways”

?span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'> we need more deadlines why?

?span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'> what if my child just wants to zoooooone out today?

?span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'> fighting with a tired child and a snowsuit twice a day: need i say more?

?span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'> and we all take a nap at precisely 2PM. NOT!

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i’m just as happy as the next guy (read, American) that E. Smart was found safe and sound, BUT COME ON FOLKS! that totally uninformative press conference (yes, i actually watched it) on CNN was enough to make a real Canadian gag. i couldn’t get pictures of Iraqi women watching it out of my mind. if i weren’t trying to be a good catholic, i’d comment on religious fanaticism as well.

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March 12, 2003 things that appear mysteriously in march

Edward Gorey so a glossy staple-bound periodical sporting the subtitle ‘eclectic curiosity’ arrives in one of the papers on the weekend. we can’t recall which one, and i’m having a hard time filling out the reader survey.

but anyways, the thing is oozing montreal, so we can’t seem to ignore it. Like Gorey’s doubtful guest, it’s this mysterious new presence gravitating in our home. it starts to follow me around. i take it to bed. that’s where i notice a bizarre editorial comment about sled dogs, and the lone letter written by a guy from nowhere, chastising them for both their opening AND closing lines. (did they lose all the other letters in their recent burglary, i wonder?) Oddly enough, after making several good points, his letter ends with a one-word sentence that doesn’t work. Bizarre. needless to say, i rifle thru my entire website seeking some of my more eclectic (laugh now) montreal prose. is any of it good enough? of course it is.

then the baby started to cry and my life-driving urge to become famous slipped away yet again.

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but earlier on in the day…

rounding the bend on sunnyside, i’m pondering the most un-montrealish name ‘sunnyside’ when those light fluffy snowflakes get smaller. through the large houses to my right, i notice that i can see – or not see – only whiteness down the mountain, where normally i see a lovely vista of the city. in a second, i’m engulfed in a strange daylight-darkness. in the covered jogging stroller, she’s cozy and asleep. looking up into the sky, i make out large balls of grayness – but are they up there, or coming down here? the wind swirls around the houses, and the next thing i know i am one with about sixhundred pounds of blowing icy snow. hey, stop that, you’re stinging my face! now you’re sticking to my scarf, hey, i can’t even keep my eyes open! who authorized this blizzard right now, right here, on top of this mountain during my morning walk in march???

and just when things couldn’t get any freakier,
C-C-C-RRR-A-A-A-CKKKK !
a serious, mountain-top boom of thunder!
well i’m getting the hell out of here.
and that was the end of that.

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March 10, 2003

clockwork strikes again as the child sleeps by 8:05PM.
the bigger she gets, the more of her there is to love.

indoor disease strikes in mid-March covered in more snow.
making sure lethargy has become my friend and not foe,
i’m keeping occupied reading, writing, and filling the fridge with delectables uncounted and expensive.

3 cala lillies 22$
chunk of swiss gruyere 13.50$
pure vanilla extract 12.99$
lovely evening with cousin-in-laws
pricey

i’m coming into orange, but not into shoes.

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March 09, 2003

after failing to find a pair of shoes,
Poots takes some time to rant: The woven web of waste

addendum: they wanted to print this in the HUMOUR section, AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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addendum March 5, 2003
when there is more snow than sity, it’s the city that looks foreign.
one of the things that people who love living in this city love about this city,
is having a conversation about the weather in French, with two other people
who also speak the French of another place and time.
it’s like living on the edge of the world and if you can’t understand why
it’s because you don’t understand why.
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March 5, 2003 ash wed

THE OTHER DAY
my MOTHER ASKED ME iF i EVER THOUGHT i MiGHT LiKE TO BE SOMEONE ELSE FOR A FEW MiNUTES,
just to see what it would be like.

i thought about it before i answered.

i THiNK iT MiGHT DRiVE YOU iNSANE, i said.

as i age, i am becoming more conscious of intolerance brewing in on me, and the way that i convince myself that it’s not really happening. Those who have aged before me are role models of kindness, and narrow-mindedness alike. Does one allow for the other? And, as long as i see my own values aligning with theirs, i give myself the right to my own opinions. Just because you can fight against unkind things doesn’t make your stance better. Somehow, somewhere, that made sense.

still snowy in the sity, circular reigns of warm weather piano music forms skeins of harmony around my mind. Pity the one who cannot feel it. Who doesn’t close their eyes and take themselves away into any heaven you call your own is a sad and lonely mind to spend this life in. how much happier could i, would i, be, if i knew their sorrow. None, says i. none. and never knowing the difference makes it that way.

March 1, 2003
WHiTE RABBiTS