Tag: aubrey

Surprise Speakers

Today I get to go out and return with something that will make my love stupidly happy. I wish I could do that much more often.

I waited today, for the phone to ring.
It didn’t.

On the other end was to be a friend. I was to return her books, those that I have, and we were to go and let her forget about her young, single-motherhood for an hour or two.

Seems not to be.

I found the glass spider that I had brought home to my Love almost a year ago. It has been missing for almost that long. It glitters and I imagine it to be full of poison, as if in a cliched story from the sci-fi 80’s. It is perched on the shelf above the keyboard, ready to drop upon my hands and devour me. *grins* But I am the writer, and I write the story, (though I start sentences with words like “but”, which is a bit of a misdemeaner), and I have decided that the spider is my protector. My jeweled guard against humanities ills. It was amusing, at the time. We saw it in the shop window together and both secretly decided that we must gift it to the other. I beat him to it, so we decided that it is ours. When I make us cloaks, then, we will squabble. *laughs*

I have a wonderful pattern for a long, elegant coat with a clerics collar. My plans are to sew one for Aubrey in deep red Velvet. Black-red, like menses, with cuffs of death or crimson.

Faerie Wings & Playland

Value Village has begun it’s halloweening! REJOICE!!

Stripey stockings are $6 and are all colours. (I got the purple ones). Knee high stripey socks too. (Knee highs come in black velvet as well as colourful stripes).
There are also beautiful fairy wings, (also purple), for $8.
I’m totally going to stock up.

I brought home Violet Stockings and a pair of wings.

Is it just me or are all the best bits of clothing available only when the shops are halloweening?

——-

Went to Playland yesterday with m’Love, the roomate, and two of the brothers. I wouldn’t bring the youngest. Horrid thing should be shot in the foot. No. Wait. Then he’d actually have something to complain about. Blah.

Anyhoo – unbelievable! $170 to getr us all in + four ride passes!!!
When did the prices jump? Last time I went, entry was $6 and a pass was $20, now it’s $10 and $40!! FORTY?? Berloody hell. (A scary moment – realizing just how many people looked as if this is just what they do on the weekend).

The rollarcoaster was wonderful as always. M’love had never been on one before, so it made it that much more special. *happywarmth* After that though, we made the mistake on going on a terrible ride. Everyone got quite ill after riding it – not enough speed to cancel out the carsick feeling. That took us out of commision for about an hour, but really, so did the lineups. (Including the one for the bathroom).

After that, we split up. Marchall with Cale to go see the Monster Trucks, Bill and I with Robin. We headed for the bumpercars, then gace Robin money to win toys with while we waited for the mad mouse. Talking in the lineups about the people that died on it when a car shot off the top of the track. Does anyone remember how long ago that was?

After leaving Robin to the numbing pleasures of the arcade, we sneaked off to the haunted house. I think we were a bit of a dissapointment to the actors inside. *grins* Wandering around placidly through crashes and bangs and people jumping out from the walls. We examined thier costumes while they tried to menace us. Poor things. *laughter* At one point we came upon a girl and her boy, afraid and lost, she was refusing to enter the pitchblack hallway. I took her by the waist and told her I wasn’t going to let go, just come along now, there’s nothing here but the dark, I’ve got you, and led her around the corner to light. I felt like a hero for two point five seconds.

My first haunted house… The hearses were pretty.

We met up after that, deciding to logride. Longest line-up so far. An hour we stood or tried to sit. Evil. If there were a gaurantee that the ride were to be as long as the wait, I would have gladly endured it, but as it was, it was the beginning of the end.

The swings were next, with Marshall hitting on any available female. Telling them that I was just a roomate and that my lover is 20 years older than me just to play thier disgusted reactions. Hah. Glad I caught him out on that one. Bill vaulted to fencing just in time to join us. Better than flying are the swings at the fair.

And that was it. Time was pressing, darkness had fallen, and it was the when to go. On the way out I bought M’Love a dragon. It’s a goofy little thing, but it commemorates the day in a way that ticket stubs can’t quite capture.

Van Island Vacation

Had a wonderful time away from this city. Arrived in Victoria on Sunday evening and wandered the roads. Tourists scurrying around us as we walked with our respective oddities. My purple hat causeing, not comment, but scorn and m’love with his guitar the same. Eventually we meandered to the theatre after a terrible dinner and sat in on the Grand Migration.

It was lovely. Inspiring. There’s so much of the world that I’ve never seen and perhaps never will. I want to visit all of it. Breathe the air on every continent. Meet the people and see thier worlds.

After the film, we walked in wonder. Too far along the water, then longer still along a road before we arrived at our temporary home. Our bags grew heavy, enough to cut. We were full of weary pain when we arrived, but having arrived, we felt better. My best friends bedroom, with her eternal bluerose comforter. I realized that a third of what was in there, was brought there by me. Presents from our decade apart and together.

We were idiots. We watched Howard the Duck. Don’t.

Sleeping in, rising late, our reasons for not seeing the dinosaurs. We bussed from Esquimalt into town, alighting at the swing bridge on the waterfront. Coffee, our first intention. After completing our mini quest, we set off, our caffiene choices in hand. We stopped in at a Bryans, and slithered me into a plum dress, then we left – our destination: The Iron Palace. Four floors of odd stuff. Basement shelves piled with occiloscopes and suits of armor, bouy bells, and typeset pieces. An interesting place. We took away sandals and a pattern for a duster coat.

Lunch was at a five dollar diner, with formica tabletops and all day breakfast.

From there we walked. Miles. Uphill. His grandmother pleased to see us. She brings to mind an old hyper cat. The type what has outlived thier flesh and is now left as too mych energy in a skinny little body. We looked at photos of thier family, and I took some. I suppose she’s my family too now, a granny-in-law. More film to be developed. A sweet woman, too bad I can’t recall her name.

We searched unsuccessfully for food, everything closes at five or six, and we attempted to feed ourselves at eight. Silly we, victoria is for kids! After a suitable amount of time went by to allow our stomach acids to eat at the lining, we sat and waited for friend Richie. For half an hour we sat, eyes peeled for a white van. When he arrived, it was a blessing. I’d never known what he looked like, and now I do.

We drove to Mishka’s place and packed our things into the van. A black tom tried doggedly to get locked into the house. I haven’t any idea what he came for, as he doesn’t belong to the house.

Dinner was at Alexsandros. The only big city restaraunt in the town. Wonderful food, and a trio playing bad 80’s as lounge music. Heavenly.

Here ends the first two day of vacation, from here, Victoria is left behind us. I am weary of staring at a screen, and so will leave the rest to tomorrow.

one ay em – In Depth – I am caught

one ay em
I am tired and alone, sitting here at one a.m. The distant sounds of teenagers across the street does little to cheer me. I wish to be in bed with you, dreaming, and asleep, but more time will have to pass. You claim to have taken the steps neccesary to erase me from your life. I believe you, though it hurts like nothing else. I must tread carefully now through your intricate, unacknowledged web of rules. I feel erased already.

Invisible.

=======

I’m going to assume it’s the last bit that leads to confusion for it seems to me that the beginning of the piece is quite straightforward.

I must tread carefully now through your intricate, unacknowledged web of rules. I feel erased already.

Think of a spiders web, delicate and invisible. Think on what happens to the fly who is ensnared.

Saying that I feel erased already is revealing that I feel I am not nimble enough in my mind to survive. It doesn’t matter what I say or what I do, the spider will have me. Hence – invisibility. I am here, but I am innefectual. I will be erased though it is what I fear most.

one ay em

I am tired and alone, sitting here at one a.m. The distant sounds of teenagers across the street does little to cheer me. I wish to be in bed with you, dreaming, and asleep, but more time will have to pass. You claim to have taken the steps neccesary to erase me from your life. I believe you, though it hurts like nothing else. I must tread carefully now through your intricate, unacknowledged web of rules. I feel erased already.

Invisible.

the lack of a roomate situatoin

I’m waiting to hear back from the Marshall fellow. Claims that money has been sent have occured, though according to Western Union, the man doesnae exist. I cannae ken what he’s up to, but perhaps we’ll find out if he gets here.

-trying to explain away depression –

I lay awake last night, I’d said something in jest that had hurt him. I wasn’t expecting it. The sort of thing where at the end of the evening, someone turns to you and says, you really ruined my time by saying X, and you stop hurt in wonder that X would have been taken harmfully.

-we seem to have a lot of these –

Mail arrived today from Toronto. Apparently I have an account with the royal bank there. I suppose my grandmother opened it for me to cash my paychecks in when I worked there. I’m wondering if I should close it or leave it be. Either option seems like effort somehow wasted. I am happy that I can still be surprised. Be reminded of that golden summer of lightning and love.

-and rooftops bathed in orange light-

I talked with him the other day, my ontario demon with the redblack hair. That flashing amber eyed musician with the purple soul. Memories crackling with contentment.

-in a van, between the seats, crying-

TRUE STORY
on the bus: three men wearing stained work clothes sit on the very back seat as a woman enters. She sits in a seat facing at 90 degrees. She is wearing colourful clothing.
man 1: yeah – the match was okee, couldda done better thoough. Lost some offa Robbie.
man 3: Lost some offa Robbie? Feck that, you shoulden give it to em.
The woman opens a book.
man 2: Looka that.
man 1: Whare?
man 2: That girl – she’s gotta book open.
man 3: Reading – hah – ruins a woman if you givum a book.
man 1: Yah – wouldn’t let my woman read. Just wrecks em.

-I am ruined-

Hear Ye, Hear Ye, Tidings Well in the City

So it seems we have a roomate. He is a young american theatre student, 22 and enthusiastic. We have only talked over the phone, but I have decided he’s agreeable. He tells stories about himself that continue onwarsd, but dosn’t mind in the slightest if you interupt with something to say. That is rare.

M’love is growing more weary every day, so tired that his bones shine through his skin like pearl.
I worry that he will not have enough rest before the weekend is upon us, with it’s mysteries and excitement.

Adult

I realized the other day just how far away I have become from the person I used to be. The other day, I had a momentary flash – I’m older now, I have now hung up my underwear to dry in the bathroom.

M’love and I went out yesterday. We went to the Flea Market. A red warehouse full of things that weren’t interesting enough to ask after. A sad sorry look at our consumer culture. He walked away with music, Lina Lovitch, and a Gowan, as self amusement. I staggered away with a gothic monstrosity. Pedestal, painted silver, with three gargoyles. Speak Evil, Hear Evil, See Evil. 50c = 3 pounds worth of clay and silver paint.

This week I houseclean. It’s difficult with no hot water, and things tend to pile up. Still, there are things to hang up, and things to be put on shelves, and things to be organized to leave the house. Sold, bartered, tossed. Whichever seems best. Already there is a box in the livingroom fll of barbie dolls and toys. Fantasy books that were left on my doorstep and comicbooks dirt cheap.

Unexpected people are planning on appearing at the party this weekend. Drifting into people on Commercial Drive. My ghodmum, and her boy.

Unusual gifts, these people.

“I’m not a fig plucker, but a fig pluckers son, and we’ll all plck figs until the fig plucking’s done”.

We also ran into a David Bloom, and an Andrew, of The Hill and Biffy Perdu. I walked away from thier concert last night with a tiny pin, and an e-mail address of someone named Black. I should tend to my collection of people without names. They are fading away from me like dreams into morning.

Last night, someone stared at me from thier car as I stood at the busstop. He sparked conversation between me and my love. “I don’t like being in the company of people who wonder if my lipstick matches thier cock”, then I took satisfaction in naming names.

Asleep, My Love


I dream of your hands. Licking your fingers and palms, smoothness gliding inside of me, teasing. I dream of you, with me breathing. Your hardness against my softness; your solidity immersed in my fluid. Softly, softly, rocking together. Dappled sunlight dreaming of you golden. Cannot remember you never not knowing me. Inside. Tasting your strawberry tongue, your cherry lips and your caramel words. Sighing. Love you so much. Needing. Colour flashing through my closed eyes to blind you with their resonance – quicksilver. Me, moon, transmuting your brilliance to create my own soft light, like blood. Emerald shouting beauty for me alone – halos – your eyes – ringed with gold. Drowning.

Yes

I haven’t slept, it’s eleven now. I am taking your shirt with me when I go, so I will have something to carry with me.

I cut myself recreating the heart. I put a nail right through my thumb. Almost enough blood to write with, but not quite.

I think I would like to be your crawlspace. I want to be that. That place between. Between breath and breathing. Between thighs where you store old paintings and furniture nobody uses anymore. I want a chance to come back for you. I feel like today is the day that you and I first meet in another world of circumstance.

Taking little sugary pills to prevent contraception. Strange sometimes to think about. I feel now that the inside of my head is gray. Sometimes now, I want a child. Clocks ticking.

The noon alarm you set for me would not have gone off. The first day of spring again I suppose. You’d forgotten to remove the block from between the bells. No matter. I don’t believe I was meant to sleep today. I picture you in the sun, hair caught and played with by the wind coming off the water. There is green, though placing you seems difficult. I could put you anywhere. A flash of you climbing above me at the sandcliffs, wet, heavy sand caught clinging to the cuffs of your red jeans and filling your shoes. Laughter as you turn to help me and smiling as we both slip. It
can’t happen, could never happen. They’ve shored it up, my slippery cliff slope is gone, terraced out of existence, but I can still see you in the moonlight. Above me in a moment from years ago. A night with you that you likely spent sitting up, with no wisp of this inside you. Enjoying the fine summer night a million miles and half a city away. But I can see you(underlined). A night by the fire we never had.

Between spaces, darkness between stars, windowsills, I could take a memory and put you in it, between fantasy and reality. Your hand (want to add the word forever here) under a dark sky and a half waning moon.