my    E l e c t r o n i c     pen                                               j  u  l  Y     2 0 1 3                                                   i    n  d  e  x  

september

august 23


 
boo boos at PR time oops





august 23
on this day in 1965

 
painted nails and two sleeping co-cohabitants, one slept on the floor.
the coffee is sickly sweet; the Swiss man has to drive to the country; and the little one will spend a fourth day at Six flags.
siblings are in new york; everything costs so much money; and now i need to learn how much money can i spend, regardless of my six-figure income.
because we need more new york in our lives; a little bit of Vancouver; and he needs to get to Europe.

this chair is hard; even on a butt that made it around the park thrice yesterday;
a pile of photos;  shiny nails which are hard to type with; a day in a conference room on my birthday;
and comfort; deep deep comfort, in teaching a man the meaning of love. out loud at that.

just be excited, let me in, and i'll take you round the world.













august 21
seven am ish. the best days of the year, late august, almost feels like 1997, including the crazyness

how much of what we choose is chosen
heading towards the last few miles, making changes comes with a price
but this room looks more like where i was headed;
it seems more combined, yes, it is,
it's blue, and wooden, and woolen,
there are clothes draped askew, but in transition,
a few modern devices,
travel bags and serious medication,
and the best part is that none of it was all chosen, yet it is the perfect choice.


a man speaks to his son, it seems they have made strides, late august fills me with wonder, and, happily for today, sleep.
being honest with ourselves is very difficult, why am i so good at it?
and yesterday i realized that there's not much time to visit cynthia.
this must be planned immediately.
it's time to streamline; to prioritize; to make choices;
but it needs to be the perfect choice.

clarity, time, perspective, and a warped sense of who you are and what you are doing, makes your choices seem futile, indeed.
i look up to the sun and bare it all, my choices, his choices, wallowing in hope, as there is no other choice.























august 19
12:17 pm lunchtime. kraft dinner will keep me alive, breathing, walking, straight.

i've cleaned my house; can i wipe the other slate just as clean?

i'm waiting for the second coming.
i've got a pink belt and a black shirt.
but no pink undies.
colours can mean i care about you,
colours can mean things you didn't mean for them to mean.

someone is over new brunswick.
and venice is still sinking.






 




my sister;
my friend from company number two
my friend from company number three
a swiss man
a distant cousin in another province
a German woman, in Germany
a colleague in deux montagnes
a good friend from company number three
an old friend from los angeles
my neice
my friend's American boyfriend
my nephew
a new age friend from company number three
my other niece
my old babysitter's mother
a colleague from company number three in Dallas

what could this list possible have in common.




i am neither of these, a woman driving a passat, or a jalopy, or a toyota forerunner.




august 12, 2013


emails that cannot be re-read;
in fact, some never came;
will the java cut this knife;