| shedshedshed |
[Apr. 25th, 2009|12:41 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | smallville | ] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | artistic | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | catguts | ] |
o! how the time passes.
.
-
__
i am currently in a very deep invention phase in my life & hope to emerge from it feeling refreshed & revitalized.
in the the last 2 weeks my heart has broken into one million pieces & i have completely lost myself in that, the good news.. because it is difficult to remember which parts are truly me - i've imagined a whole new person : stronger & way more enthusiastic than before.
the bad news is i am covered in scraps & scrapes from last few year where only light shines through, inside i feel like a sieve giving way to every levy.
and
o how
the structure turns
i am the cornerstone, if i don't keep holding the levies back i am certain that i will crush myself.
it is exciting & unique & the scariest of situation to be in
as we've always done, hold tight to the ground & stay firm in what you believe/
my sincere feeling go out to a very dear friend being prosecuted & hiding from the punishment. i want you to know that we've all loved you - just the way you are. |
|
|
| cherry blossom bubble bath |
[Aug. 10th, 2008|01:35 pm] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | hfx, ns | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | the last roundup, gene autry | ] |
i'm packing to move a few minutes down the road - to purcells cove.
p & s continue to downsize their lives for greater flexibility abroad.
i gather some of the things that they discard b/c they remind me of them.
6 record players, 1/2 filled paint tins, notes on the backs of crosswords.
things things things & their dirty dirty power.
will i ever be able to let go?
or when will i realize - they've already gone?
right now i lump & lump at the awful piece of a thing in my throat.
there are new things on the go. i have started a small business based around sewing things for other people & i hope i can really begin to sink into that.
as per usual it is not easy.
i am seeking powers outside of myself - so please think of me.
* i will be thinking of you.
-melissa |
|
|
| Mmmm, piano hands! |
[Dec. 14th, 2006|11:47 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | dancing the jelly roll, nat vincent | ] |
the 1989 le baron coupe has been passed on & it was replaced with a ½ tonne chevy truck.. it feels really nice to be back in kingston, my family is content to be quieter now.
things i have yet to complete before the new year:
-complete my first comic ‘minou & the right side of her mind boys’, pen and ink with pencil crayon overlay inspired by chubby cute faced forties comics with oodles or mary janes included.
-i’m baking a lot of cupcakes, there’s a lot of deteriorating older friends from st.marys out there.
-visit places, visit people, visit, and more travel [i’d like to go to maine & new Brunswick & cape breton to name a few].
i’ve recovered a few books of writing from years past that i’d left in my parents house – they have kept so many things over the years and i’m so glad for it. i have wood from my old public school incorporated into the trailer that my dad built me as a graduation present, it really is quite special.
for now i’m enjoying running into people that once taught me, people I loved, and even some that don’t remember me at all.
i’m heading to ottawa on sat. & will be staying until tues when I will pick up my brother in law at the airport, & return to Kingston.
Last night I dreampt that I painted glasses onto my face and when a little girl tugged at me pointing to my face I said ‘those are my reading glasses’.
i do hope to see all of you in kingston, ottawa, montreal, halifax, or somewhere else along the way.
i’m still laughing at the ham of a backwoods loverboy when i asked him “hows the truck run”? “like a top”!, he replied. wow, just like a top…
 |
|
|
| topper returns |
[Aug. 17th, 2006|08:26 am] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | ukelele lady | ] |
 |
|
|
| the night before |
[Mar. 18th, 2006|09:45 am] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | the open road, wind in the willows | ] |
the night before i was in the bath, looking out.
i rocked back trying to see over the side.
i dreampt i let pedestrians into a coffeehouse that wasn't mine & when a lady came the next day to lock up, i prevented her fr. going upstairs because i didn't want her to see all the people sleeping there fr. the night before.
the night before.
a deep heavy object rolled up along and fell into my next layer.
"so why'd they call you old timer anyways"?
i'm timing what i gots left
"and is it...."?
yeah, i think it'll be enough |
|
|
| not quite as good as old black joe |
[Nov. 4th, 2005|10:51 am] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | old black joe, plinks | ] |
darlin', don't throw me the joker
it'll all come a cropper when we blow on through
put your hands on the deck where i can see them
put your eyes on my set so i can cheat them
underhandedly, we won the upper hand. aces high
up to the hilt, in our best bib & tucker
it all came so proper, the rail came on through
it all looked so blown', our hearts bustle blew
darlin', gone up with the flume
together we sachet, sweet uker & i
we've got high falutin tricks up our sleeve hems
we've got spry kilkenny cats on our tail ends |
|
|
| june beetles |
[Jun. 4th, 2005|11:21 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | the hucklebuck, otis redding | ] |
23 cicada belly scrapes on my inner side
the first 3 were devoted to scurrying
the next to chortle more clearly
a few for looking up at teachers & apples
one for piano playing & sewing
a trying one for deviance followed
a few to be misunderstood
the next marked the yr back to being wayner's bud
spent in the messiest house
a squashed yr of hallucinations
an advancement in mathematics & a growing love of mechanics
a formal introduction with the bean
two of the longest summers spent on travel & music & love
a sinking feeling about the move which refused to dissipate
a summer of denial happily spent with an old man
the yr a cheshire cat saved me & continues to do so
metaphor obsession with anything to do with everything i had ever seen or done
set in and would not loose its grasp on the past
school's out, theres another move looming and it looks as though i may age again |
|
|
| not a long time |
[May. 1st, 2005|03:09 am] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | double binded sax, software | ] |
though i've been and left 1,000 times
i am constantly drawn to that one piece
ran the whole way to get there
and think and wait and dream
i want to go back to the part where
the lion faced the other way or
forward to where i forget
--
lady's been traded for a 1/2 tonne
woodside went down to rubble
i walked through my kindergarten ruin
preserved it on acetate
realized if i'd been tall enough to see out the windows
i could have seen my house from the hallway |
|
|
| effigy for efficiency |
[Apr. 16th, 2005|10:00 am] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | hello! we move through weather, tarentel | ] |
father time's weighty finger points
tapping rhythmically
he's a minutes kind of man
the Count of rotational devices
he never misses a beat
i've put a mouse trap in his clock
let the cats out of their bags
troubled by the slowing of the rat race
he winds up like a toy soldier with a mission mandate; a vow to the completion gods
each task completed in less time than the last, to the point undetectable
tracks leapt, corners cut, in the name of a greater good - misuse.
charlie chaplin had it good, because at least in his time the malfunction rate was higher
non-compliance with maximum yields
results in flip chart expanding their angle
in the blink of dotting i's
meter penalties doled
pendulum mortification tolled
put a tic tic toc
next to the insufficient not included
in next year's gene pool
divisibility devised with no remainders
in time with biological devices
i made a clean cut, scraped off all the edges and loose ends
brick by brick by brick
dot dot dot
out sitting on the learning curb
being eaten by a thesaurus
I slipped and missed the point
fell short and denied my matter and hand
i've got a sneaky cognition and
a suspicious revision
of which weapons of the weak to wear
three square miles a day
may be enough to fictionally and finally
keep it at bay |
|
|
| up with the window! |
[Mar. 27th, 2005|01:36 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | fairies wear boots, by paul newman | ] |
[theostrausse & pluta walk into a valley just north of sharbot lake.ON a large stick falls in front of them & exists stage L as a snake]
pluta: a risk is a geographic concept, you need to weigh out which areas will be affected.
theostrausse: i was always lifting up, up.
[silence]
theostrausse: inner diffuse spread around the globe.
[long silence]
theostrausse: weightless as a map flutting in the wind.
pluta: witless as a neo-spiritualist on a bend.
theostrausse: too alleviated to have areas affected.
[they pause, to see some large rocks falling down the mountain beside them]
theostrausse: no weighing out, only an ever present knowing.
pluta: ha! communication wrought on one phrase lifts. this year for spring you should bury yourself in the ground so you can grow up up... like a tree that will grow huge branches and a mass of leaves to weigh you down.
[an old man with tea bag lids and elephant folds walks up the valley past them] |
|
|
| unclaimed luggage |
[Feb. 27th, 2005|08:13 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | four way street, sybarite sonna lilienthal | ] |
the tapedeck was embowelled to be returned to the side steep two quiet rides later.
in it went again: RGB YP B&W. PLAY>
REOWAAAAAREOWEAAAAEEEEREOWAAAAAA
circling, squee quee quee qeezed it out
objects flew everywhere inside as the sacred silver nail hammer was sought after
every bug within was smashed and squashed
---------
now the messenger has deceived me and is being used by another
danas electronic mail haxored by egalitarian
-------
cantankered by a canker
this is the last time you play the lyre, filthy milksop |
|
|
| a silent ride |
[Feb. 21st, 2005|07:15 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | blind deaf dumb, cocteau twins | ] |
the committee of adjustment has
just. smelled. a. rat.
the illusory bottom up roles
royce of the municipal
any shifts in policy can & will be placed
directly over that of the municipality’s
to make a stink you need to be big &
you need to be loud
suppose the rodent smelled also had a voice that could be carried?
used as a vehicle, as it was intended to be.
the spectacle is the heart of the unrealism of the real story.
it is the omnipresent affirmation of the choice already made
in production and its corollary consumption
reality rises up within the spectacle
and the spectacle is. real.
the essence, the support of the existing society
and its reciprocal – alientation
the spectacle is the nightmare
imprisoned modern society, which ultimately expresses nothing more
than its desire to sleep. the spectacle is the guardian of sleep.
the commodity who knows full to well how to seem
at first glance trivial
contains the essential movement of the spectacle
its mechanical accumulation liberates unlimited artificiality
in the face of which
living desire is helpless
we hold the simulated original
in a state of ironic suspension
adjacent to the real and the facsimile
this is a state which demystifies and falsifies, even
reveals its own techniques of masquerade
while putting into doubt any fixed referent*
*falsification for a form is a state of absorption
the more the system is systematized
the more the falsification is reinforced
fascinating precisely because it is trapped
renamed and stuck.
semantic disjunction is the process of creative mistranslation that
endows the term with its value.
a currency of literary exchange. a verbal token.
our ‘tall’ is the new ‘small’
consumption is the ‘new’ activism
the rate of incidental death is high
caring at a distance is not close and not personal
we need to historicize our lives
a struggle to position ourselves
in terms of linking North and South
chug a chug chug chug chugchug
Smoke. Makes. Prosperity.
woven outside or above the social fray
where economies are re-configured
umbilical & designer vegetables –patented
shifts through hands so big that if they gave you
high fives, they’d wipe out entire nations
learning arithmetic with your fingers
ad + ad + fad
vertisements
drawing butterflies on coca-cola cans with crayons
spelling b’s, A, B,
see oscar the grouch thrown out with the trash
under a billboard that reads ‘taters and hash’
crayola, manolta, motorola
the wheels of the bus
turn round
and round
and round
ring around a rosy
a pizza pocket full of
poser! Brown-noser!
you fell asleep in your Cappuccino
been a long week
the alphabet soup in yr
briefcase is all scrambled
cause ‘tall is the new small’
your coffee may be extra super grande
but your just a small dot on the highway
i would like to thank shortstop for her caffeinated aid on this last one. |
|
|
| su$tain_ability |
[Feb. 10th, 2005|02:57 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | prue lewarne, by aix em klemm | ] |
if you're going to build it up
don't disguise it
in other ways
its effects are visible
develop the negative
its positive
positive
pository morning glory,
whats the story?
'tell it, show it, it'd only get lost
on delivery'
nations united
fishing line
buckled coast to coast
you cast your vote
some pulled harder than others
welcome to the apocalyptic self mutilation
where corporations reinvent the big bang
lightning market crashes
every seed pulled from the ground
every useful person to laborial freedom
cover it with growth
forests falter in saharas
pangaeaic distrust and
the heaviest plate went under
subsumed and surfaced
where the others had been displaced |
|
|
| Utz Mementomorir |
[Jan. 18th, 2005|05:51 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | things against stuff, by danielson | ] |
the Taxidermist kills animals only to make them seem alive again, where a part represents the whole - under the Taxidermist's control.
dolls/mannequins/collectibles - these apparently don't start by existing. two year ago i stood before my tidy collection of dutch porcelain figurines, each with their distinct little poses. eleanor in the sun reminded me of how muriel used to stand and squint up by the old well. Every time I looked at it, held it, thought of it when other things reminded me of the figurine, I felt more attached. They had made these collections impossible to put a cap on, but i was determined to unite the scattered figures from across the world. They said that the artists make sure to send them to many dealers so as to prevent somebody investing too many thoughts in them - resulting in death.
i completed my task and in much less time than i had expected, the last piece was just beyond the border in the next province. getting ready that morning i ensured the lighting and air temperature of the collection, i was so empty of memories that gazing in at them in their little glass house was all i could do to recall my past.
i was driving my rabbit then and when i approached the post i felt lifeless [at mid twenties i began to hobble up the walk].
as her reflective porcelain eyes met mine, i fell to the floor and thats where i started to have a televangelist daydream:
"rid yourself of all of this costly technology, digital picture takers and all of these corders, sit down - clear your mind - take a load off. tell us margarette jenny, whats your story?" well, i used to have this crazy good memory, i could remember pre birth experiences, and even as far back as when my memory was first formed. goodness know, i definitely wasn't a believer, i had no idea hop to get all of this information out of there, it was getting to be like one of those gum-poles! Now as soon as I'm done doing something it's just as near that its gone, i'm surprised i remember the human language. and not to say that i'm goin all superior or nothing but maybe it'd be a step on e_evolution if we just started talkin through our heads. i used to get so worked up when i saw parents setting bad examples, or people i hadn't seen in a long time that i was in conflict with. now, i could see a crime being committed and i'd shoulder it off my back like a big ol' duck, heck maybe i have seen some crime today! i no longer avenge or revenge or have some devine right to balance the world. we're no longer living in that societies that say a pound of flesh for a pound of whatever you've taken, a colon for a colon, i'm learning to let things go!! i was always pegged as one of those 'over sensitive', 'picky' children who are always about making mountains out of molehills, now i'm just looking for enough backyard space to bury all my hatchets.
"well, that concludes con lude con con con con..............."
when i awoke i was so confused, i went directly home and smashed every single one of my little men and women. my brother, my old cat, my small house on the prairie, my corduroy bear bridge, my 5th grade teacher carrying a melmac plate, all executed in porcelain, and all gone. i realize now that placing my own memories and experiences within the pieces was conflicting with leftover feelings/memories of the maker, thats when i knew that 1/2 the things that i had commonly dreampt about while holding them were not even my own recollections. |
|
|
| i slept through eyelids so thick |
[Jan. 5th, 2005|01:22 am] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | jesus' blood never failed me yet, by gavin bryars | ] |
you forgot to say goodbye
is this what you forgot?
walking along
listening to your feet drag
every step pouding away at whats left
waiting for you
i forgot what was worth
goodtimes, goodtimes, change is good
struck straight in the
tender whats left
scraped up violet muffle of a
please don't leave me here alone
i'll tell you whats wrong with the atmosphere |
|
|
| it was not one or three, but two - it would not go |
[Dec. 29th, 2004|08:26 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Creatures of Love, by The Talking Heads | ] |
i didn't want to rock the boat, but
those natives'd use lake ontario as a pssg
from Syracuse to Kingston
clug a lug chug, and out came blackie
off the caboose of the undergroung railway mystery
Boots'n I'd walk around chewin chives
I'd tip him, he'd wink me, we'd chinwag
then upupup went the invisible border that divided
our lake, our revenues & customs
our pantyhose, and looty
now we've got BountyBears and Depu-teapots
strangers pillar'd themselves along the highway,
where it all took place
holding signs that read, "the proof in the pudding"
contraband canadian geese pass freely
bellies full of powder
i told him we were waiting for something,
it turns out it was him
we tossed our breadheels to the nightime ducks
he fell asleep on the grass and
i smoked two cigarettes watching him and the sky
i didn't want to rock him but i did
we couldn't use the lake to cross
we could only know the other side like our
injured mexican eagles
i setout to carry him the 51 dotted lines,
all the way AROUND
Along the highway were the picketters, the highwaymen
they wore long black latex gloves for the birds to perch
the leader had the latest version of 'The Great Criticism'
tracks railed past us, plumes of steam & feathers rose around us
we boarded a sm wooden boat with no sail
....
over ten thousand birds had a piece of the saintlawrence seaway
in their mouths
Boots up and turned himself outta that little boat,
we were miles above ground - leaving behind
a lg ditch which used to be Lake Ontario |
|
|
| Little Piccola: Eutus we have a Problem |
[Oct. 26th, 2004|03:29 pm] |
This one goes out to my sweet *struum*
He's playing the world's largest violin over on Down St.
baboushki baboushki babou
Bowtying his mind around this lovely little peach of it all
powpow Maxwell
weapon: cowboy flagun
manual still attatched
His picture falls from a leaf
oranging around the edges we make out the words
'big wig shoguns'
i was just
i remember
Its the driving force behind cities
have you got a mind sock
gong trolling at noon
belling the hell out of this jar, jab
who's she talking to?
cream in the middlemarch
our plan of action, our corpus chrisite
he's oogling door and how am I supposed to withdrawl
i've got big bills to feed |
|
|
| She Barely Fits Inside my Head |
[Aug. 20th, 2004|04:03 pm] |
Jesse James just covered his head with his hands.
Toque or turban, fedora or fez.
Tip your hat, brims up!
Dear Mr. Boggart and Peter Lorre,
You've got rabbits, and bees in your bonnet.
Caps off your pillbox/hat
Your headpiece, your topper.
Your cranial skylight.
Measure this crown and that.
At the drop of an old chapeau [thought i was going to say hat?].
Jonathan seagull looks out inwardly,
To see a side style sailor go by.
Business men march onward with stock exchange
newsprint-pirate-foldable types.
This is my cabbie and I'll hit the high hat.
I'll play the dunce, and you be the beret flaunting artsy.
The gallopping straw cowboy number.
The bippitty boppitty bowler,
the silk sombraro.
.. A silk sombraro..?..
Hang up your head, your hat is full of wool.
A mass of velvetine vines and buds.
Oh! was I going to the outback, the panama, the safari?
A 50 gallon cowgirl converses with a slick Paddington style.
I saw a tall white pleated chefs,
Carrying platters that looked like the Wright borthers in full flight regalia.
What peak of sorcery was such haberdashery?
A felt green Robin Hood replaced by a meshing hunting cap!
The thinking was running low on steam,
trying hard to kick the monk's habit.
Puffing away, at the drop of a beat. |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
misterfergus's journal
