Debt

A simple realization.
There are many things that I am totally willing to enter the black hole of eternal debt for.
These things are, listed in random order...

Food, either fresh ingredients to cook with or already made by amazing genius's, doesn't matter.
Books. Although I only buy them at used bookstores, I will buy them if I want them.
Music. I do struggle with this because I am somewhat of a ludite and am still unable to figure out my ipod.
Flowers. No one I have ever dated has ever bought me flowers, and my concern with that may make me seem old fashioned and uncool, I don't care. I like flowers, I like receiving flowers. So. Screw it, I buy them for myself.
Fancy bath products. Okay now, obviously not the creams that cost a hundred dollars, or even thirty dollars for that matter. But I have been known to spend my last few dollars on a really good bathbomb. With no regrets.
Travel. Especially if I am on my way to see people I love who happen to be situated on the other side of the world. I will, without question, go into severe debt in order to know that they are still there and that I will either eat or laugh with them again.

Oddly enough, considering the life I have chosen for myself,
I refuse to go into debt to make art or dance or theatre.
Absolutely refuse.
Completely.
Go figure.

Devouring Lions

I had had a very chaotic night.
And, someone whom I felt close to and trusted
ended up leaving me alone by the roadside at about three o'clock in the morning.

This put me in a very dangerous situation.

I was eventually rescued by a taxi that appeared out of the night,
drove up quickly beside me,
threw open the door and cried 'get in get in'.

I jumped in, slammed the door shut and we drove off quickly.
Of course I had to haggle over the price of the ride for it's entirety.

I arrived home at the house in Mamprobi at about five in the morning, just before everyone would wake and start their day.
I snuck through the door, tiptoed through the hall and slid into bed.

I awoke the next morning late, the house was empty.

It was pouring. When it rains here, it's like buckets of water falling out of the sky.
The gutters are open and fill up with garbage, so they overflow.
The streets are unpaved and so become like rivers, they are impassable.

When it rains this hard we have light-off, this means no electricity.
The system can't handle it.

This means

no fan
no music
no cold beer

So, I lay in the humidity in bed all day and watched cockroaches the size of my hands crawl up the walls, once in awhile having to flick one from the bed.

I had a lot of time.

Stella Mettle came home at about six o'clock.
She was drenched from head to toe, seventy three and the rain doesn't stop her.

She saw me in the hall in the dark, still in my wrap and she said
'Oh. You are not fine'

'No, no. I'm fine.'
I was embarrassed, I didn't want to burden her with my troubles.

'No, you must have some hot rice and stew.'

And she set about preparing this, with a tiny charcoal fire, a hand fan, under a shelter.

Within twenty minutes I had a fold out table in front of me with a plate of hot rice, kentemere stew and a satchel of pure water.

Stella went off to change into some dry clothes.

Very shortly she came back into the room and sat down next to me.
A few moments of silence passed.

She said

'I love when you sit and talk and eat with me like this.
You have made my days longer.
Since you have come. I am strong.'

release the beast

Big thanks to Linnea Swan.....

Must share...

A little bit of a departure from the usual fare.
Sometimes we come across images so striking that it is crucial to share them.
Click on "Must share" to take you...

Reservoir

Upon entering the park at St. Clair Reservoir,
I ride up the small hill at dusk.

The park has changed since then, the open pools with broken glass are gone and a fancy fountain smugly takes their place.

I remember nights, almost twenty years ago, spent here.
We were generally innocent yet up to no good.

The jungle gym, where Jana and I were sipping beers underage, got caught by undercover cops. I rolled down the hill with Rom while beltng out dead tunes, and suppressing my crush.

This was also the last place I saw the lively, multi-talented and vivacious Becca, sitting on a bench with her father months before she took a bottle of cheap wine and a cab to the Scarborough Bluffs and threw herself over the cliff into the night.

I have always thought of her last moment, landing at the bottom, her body moved and licked by the corner lips of Lake Ontario.

and....

When I turned the corner in Barcelona, I stumbled upon Heaven.














And upon this discovery every heartbreak, every pain, every harsh word thrown and every insecure
moment vanishes......







Bliss!





Glee!

Big life, small world

A funny thing happened to me on the way to Barcelona....

I had just joined the que at Victoria Station to purchase a train ticket to the airport.
I turn around looking briefly and joining behind me is a fellow artist with an equal affection towards escape...

We instantly start to laugh. Where are you going?
Barcelona.
Me too. Ryanair?
Yes.
Let's go together.

Coincidence? Maybe.

Or maybe not.

Sitting on the sand before the incredible blue of the Mediterranean,
we speak of art and heartbreak.
Laugh at our need to flee,
and accept how small our worlds are.
No matter how big a life we attempt to live.