31 May 2009
One can never do enough
13 May 2009
Wednesday, 13 May 2009 - Seeing
I have seen things today, in the flickering shadows of dusk; in the cast-askew glance into the middle distance. The first, as I approached our home, a tiny black bird, or perhaps a bat, darting over me, just past my right ear. When I looked back, there was no bird, nor bat, nor butterfly. A trick of the light, perhaps. Or a mysterious flickering thing.
The next I saw as I walked past the window. A flash of white; a ghostly figure gliding out of view just outside. Steam, maybe, or someone outside looking in, someone from some other time, some other where, peeking in my windows, wondering who I am, and why my spectral image is wandering past the window, trespassing so close to their place, and without so much as a tiny piece of bread dipped in honey.
There are others, of course. The sigh of starched cotton, a disembodied giggle. Sometimes, things that go missing turn up again in odd places. Why, for instance, would I have put my car keys on top of the door frame? I wouldn't, of course, because I can't even reach the top of the door frame. His Nibs could, but he's such a terrible liar.
The next I saw as I walked past the window. A flash of white; a ghostly figure gliding out of view just outside. Steam, maybe, or someone outside looking in, someone from some other time, some other where, peeking in my windows, wondering who I am, and why my spectral image is wandering past the window, trespassing so close to their place, and without so much as a tiny piece of bread dipped in honey.
There are others, of course. The sigh of starched cotton, a disembodied giggle. Sometimes, things that go missing turn up again in odd places. Why, for instance, would I have put my car keys on top of the door frame? I wouldn't, of course, because I can't even reach the top of the door frame. His Nibs could, but he's such a terrible liar.
04 May 2009
The problem
I've been listening to protest songs and all the peacenik, commune-loving hippie music I can get my hands on (it all started two days ago with the 'anarchist' bookstore purchases ("Turning the Tide" bookstore in Saskatoon has all kinds of interesting things), and then yesterday with the celebration of Pete Seeger's music, which pretty much had me slamming my hands against the steering wheel on the way home, cross with myself for having allowed my disgust for armed conflict to weaken over the past ten years.
Yes, it's true...I *am* the filthy hippie - that's what my friend Jenn's husband Ian calls me. I'm not sure if he thinks of it as a derogatory nickname or not, but it really isn't. I'm going to go make some granola, turn up the Peter, Paul, and Mary, and I'm going to wander around the house today wearing as little as possible. I'm'a do my best to commune with the earth and think derisive thoughts about governments' military policies.
I'm going to go and think and dream about how I can make the world a Better Place (I know, and you can just save the comments about how not being a tree-hugging communist will be a good start). Right now, The Nipper and I are sharing a pot of Vanilla Tulsi tea while I attempt to get rid of the sick that Saskatoon gave me.
Yes, it's true...I *am* the filthy hippie - that's what my friend Jenn's husband Ian calls me. I'm not sure if he thinks of it as a derogatory nickname or not, but it really isn't. I'm going to go make some granola, turn up the Peter, Paul, and Mary, and I'm going to wander around the house today wearing as little as possible. I'm'a do my best to commune with the earth and think derisive thoughts about governments' military policies.
I'm going to go and think and dream about how I can make the world a Better Place (I know, and you can just save the comments about how not being a tree-hugging communist will be a good start). Right now, The Nipper and I are sharing a pot of Vanilla Tulsi tea while I attempt to get rid of the sick that Saskatoon gave me.
Labels: equal rights, hippies, i cock, the importance of arts and culture, The Nipper
