October 31.
  another October come and gone, and so are you.













October 29.
  new york city and a hurricane named Sandy.


a song every two minutes, some shopping, and an evacuation.
you win some you lose some.











October 25.
  6:14am of math and reason 

a pile of credit cards, an empty glass, signs of life, it's not what you think.

let the pot finish gurgling, shoulders down, early morn, but it's noon o'clock somewhere. and you know where.

can a human really add it all up? the needs plus the wants, minus the give and take, divided by the wishes, and come out ahead?
now poots wonders what the physics formula for that would be.

sore tummy immediately, have i spun any really nice lyric lately, will i one day again, and at least the thought is there.
that's a really sore tummy that you're writing through. did i drink milk? in fact, i did, didn't i.

which of us is really strong, which is weak, is there any absolute, any math, any formula, Franklin says no. well call me a physicist then,
because there just must be, there just must be.

 of course, with only one more sleep til i am in your arms again,even math is better.  the universe follows more formulas than usual, reason exists, and hope rings eternal. this is simply empirical, i did not write it.

and now you have to hide from even the guinea pigs, just for some peace and quiet.
only you've done the math poots, and now, you know what it's worth.


'feelin stronger everyday, stronger everyday'







October 24.
  7:20 am what comforts me.   

sour coffee, sour grapes. the L mug and letters to bridget.

exercises in futility, brief moments of joy, streak thru like a thin ray of sunshine
while using the phone for a flashlight

sour cream in my coffee.
no backscratcher in sight,
nor an original thought in mind.

waking up is long.
really long.

two more days.
does interesting mean good or interesting bad, push that one from the list poots.
in fact, in the morning, when i have time, how much of it, do i simply spend pushing thoughts.

pushing thoughts is good, as i repeat, it's all in your head.
it's all in your head.
and nothing is absolute; think about what Franklin said.
he was worried that i didn't want to hear it, but the strange thing is, that for me, reality is comforting. nearly all of it, now.
reality, and a good night's sleep. hallelujah.

facebook beeps at me now.

you, your coffee, and your teeny boobs, get the hell out of here.
















October 20.
  7:14 am - what comes into focus -  

we are too old for kissing in the metro



being alone, sucks.





i need you to always kiss me in the metro.
















October 17.
  6: 28 am - what's yours

i sleep in your bed. what should be ours.
waking in the dark by nearly a century old iron coils heating nearly a century old wood, winter descends.
the floors hurt my feet. i slept for hours.
and, which words ring through my mind, we'll wait for the java to take hold, and not mention.

the java is finally strong enough, on the last day of java, i cough.
eyeglasses are now mEp-mandatory, deep in a dark bedroom with a sleeping child, i squint, it hurts.
switch hands for heat, a shivering poot, vestiges, many, there is nothing to be done.
burning eyes.
waking is too slow today. words, are really far, like you.
















   October 16, ottawa.

  4:58 PM - of blogs and cyberspace

ha, ha. ha.
make me laugh.
burn me up.
piss me off.
secrets secrets why are they there
words my mother doesn't know
long lists of lonely people
naked photos
physicality
required.




























  October 15, mid month. 

  6:49 AM - of wine.

it is dark, and i ache, but, this is not a love story.

the gurgling coffee,
the chewing pigs,

not a normal drop of coffee in this place.
this place is not strange. it is, my home.
it is, your home. and all of a sudden too.

the heater whirrs, and, i think of obachaan again,
 the japanese grandmother from ross's story.
it always helps, especially after wine.
but not at 4 am.
louis audet flashes past my mind, it's dark,
 i'm frozen,
 alone,
and never will be japanese enough to understand ross's story, really.


but, i can tell my own.
can't i.
and this is it.



















10 08  

924 AM - of winning the Nobel prize, real dreams, and barflies.

keeping the frogs warm; continuing my life in dreams; resting my back.

a chill now casting over this northern hemispheric city, warm-blooded poots simply ain't ready for it.
bright blue sunshine and a talkative Swiss man. so many errands, errands upon errands, if all we do is errands, what is left.

it's late, on a long weekend, with no errands done.
however, poots evaded a blasting headache, unraveled a small mystery, and evaded a blasting headache.
so this is a win win all around, she'd say.

yes, sometimes dreams are dreamy, make no sense, yet make all the sense in the world.

now where is that coffee.....












10 07  

845 AM

well there just ain't much to say, so i won't say it.












10 05  
  745 AM

well fed pigs.
poots with a sore tummy and sour coffee.
need to get moving.

 



 

10 05  
  7:09 AM

i love you when you're funky.

.






 10 04  
  8:09 AM

it's actually eight oh nine.
poots plays with twitter, drinks back-up coffee, will be awake shortly.

watching changed lives is all i can say; transforming, but for better, or worse, the time space continuum cannot say yet.
 

10 02  
  8:09 AM. of nieces birthdays. random thoughts.