It’s like I’m skimming over the top of something, like I’ll look down and see trees speeding beneath me.
Ethan claimed earlier that I’ve no decorum, “You may know which forks to use, but if you’re doing it in your underwear, it doesn’t count.” and that set me to considering, weakly pondering etiquette on my way home, looking at my life from different points of view for the fun of it. I was talking with my mother yesterday and it struck me rather forcefully that I move through an utterly different life than she does. I wander a Dance of behavioral substance, where she has rules and structures, modes of guideline. Mine is intuitive, mercurial, dependant on everyone involved and the unspoken agreements which bridge the gaps between us. It occurred to me that my life as viewed by a feminist must be a wretched place to live. It’s been a week of abiding by autocratic requests and not minding in the slightest because I have a taste for equity dipped in legitimate balance. The fairness in such a situation does not escape me.
Bliss is coming over this afternoon for tea and a ferret visit, then I have Robin in the evening. I’ve no clue what to do with him and I seem to be losing my voice. It’s his birthday Saturday, he’ll be seventeen. Tomorrow Victoria is dropping by, then it’s Shane’s Last Show. He and I have an odd waltz, he’s stood me up three times and I still respect him utterly. If nothing else, this man has skill enough for me to want to get up and slam for him. Here’s an excerpt:
If I ever only get up on stage this one time to say this,
it may be enough
You may not be here to hear it, but your friends will
and my words to you may find you though hearsay and empathy
It would be best of you to be here to hear this
but you may not be, but it needs to be said
because You stand and you look at me and poems pour out.
They slip under my skin and they try to take me, licking like letters in envelopes closed.
You give me words that almost make me love you
but not quite
Love rolls from you, desire and want like waves cascading and I admit that when I am alone at night that sometimes I think of you.
What you offer me, what you tell from your dictionary glory. I think what I’m willing to take
because when you stand and you berate me, when you orate and confiscate the words of a thousand angels, I consider and weigh the worth
I think sometime I’ll post my recording of it, but not yet. There needs to be more time to distance things from our current truths. At any rate, Tuesday night is essential, for you who can, as well as I. C.R. did a tour with Tom Waits, and Shane has won almost every award there is to win.
TUESDAY JANUARY 25TH @ CAFE DEUX SOLIELS (2096 COMMERCIAL DR)
SHANE KOYCZAN
CR AVERY
MARK BERUBE
and
GRAHAM CLARK
will be ripping the stage apart with a night of music, spoken word and comedy
DOORS @ 8 SHOW @ 9 $5-7
Wednesday I’m uncertain about. My brother, Cale, wants me to “hang out” with him and his girlfriend, Kate. I believe someone else also has dibs but I have no idea who, and Thursday evening is Zatoichi at Mike’s place. Friday is also maybe asked for, though gods know by who. This whole being slightly ill thing is getting a wee bit on my nerves. My skin feels disconnected from me and my voice wears out in under ten minutes. It’s time to chew garlic and go shopping for some real food. I’ve had enough days of living off oranges and grapefruit juice.