Author: foxtongue

For those with the link, there’s some new music up at the FTP. If you want the link, you may just tell me so and I’ll send it. Many apologies to those who’re curious because unless you are know already, you are not going to find out the why the folder names. Because damnit – I feel like it. It has been pointed out to me that everyone should at least have one question they will not answer so I have arbitrarily decided that this, for now, will be mine until I can think of a better one. You won’t die, I won’t die. No casualties across the board. We win. I give you a mystery. Silver plated with a heart on top.

I just did a bad thing. I think I just stepped on someone’s mortality. I created the void of nostalgia and it sucked someone under. We were talking about their ex and how she wasn’t dealing well with her current. They broke up a few years ago and they’re still quite good friends. Quietly, I suspect they still play the carnal knowledge game every once and awhile, but I’ve never asked. He was asking after my ex and the subject of age came up, as mine is fourty this year and he thought it rather odd that someone twenty-two could have withstood the age gap. “Aren’t you found too young for someone so much older?” In among the apparently wonderful wild tale of my fantastically harsh childhood, I pointed out that I’m too young to have ever considered my own death properly in the scope of things. Oops. He hit the fifty mark sometime in the last couple of years and I think I brought about his awareness of time. To paraphrase, “It’s hard growing up. You fight it without ever thinking about it. You’re brave for your age and stupid until you get older. I got sad.” He logged off after that, reminding me of the Widow I met in Toronto. I had just met a group of people the night before and had gone home with them spur of the whim. Everything falling into their places. Click, click, click. Had no-where to stay the night and the crowd parts, that movie magic moment, to let pass the most handsome man I had ever seen, who then walks straight up to me and introduces himself. “Have you got anywhere to stay the night?” Maybe this does only happen to the young, but I went with them, and the next night found myself at the local equivalent of a Hells Angels biker bonfire party out at Oakville. She was there, the Widow, I’ll never remember her name, that’s who she always will be to me. This woman who expressed such loss and sorrow and love that she has wiped her name away. She told me to take what the world was offering me, because I will never have another chance. I knew already somewhere what she was telling me. To bite the fruit, the sun. The sadness that this night would never happen again flooded through and I took it and swallowed it whole. I remembered how to smile again and I told that handsome man that I would like to have him. That it was time for us, now, here, in the early morning of dawn.

Of course, what with all the vodka jell-o shots that people had been giving me and I had been passing onto him, it’s not like it happened. We curled asleep on the hard floor of his orange van and slept in past when we were due back in the city, but the offer stood. Which was perfect. Chaste disappointment tasting sweeter for the personal acceptance of truth.

Sundays are more difficult than Saturdays.  The religious day of rest has infected too much of the world. This will be the day I step in front of the train. No-one’s on-line and the interesting children have been dragged by the ears to sit in hard pews. Victoria and Kyle dropped by for a nice visit. They brought me food, which is always a certain way for nice people to win my adoration.  Kyle brought home-made apple pie-filling, (he claims it’s apple sauce, but I know better), and Victoria brought chocolate and white peaches. Made me feel a little of a housepet. Dressed in black velvet, I’ll twine around ankles for a tidbit. I’m sure my cat-like tendencies tend to re-inforce the persistant illusion.  One of these days I’ll learn to cut my nails.

Damnit! What is with men and the word “baby”? I do not understand. I’m beginning to suspect it’s an age thing. Somewhere in the formative years of currently middle-thirty boys the word sank into thier vocabulary irretrievably. If it keeps up I’m going to lose my favourite game. I’ll end up being caught myself. Suddenly the word ‘baby’ will be used outside of sarcastic context. I’ll step up to someone and it will slip from my lips without the ironic inflection. Then what? I’m one of THEM. Bastards.

So William is off covering the Republican Massacre down in New York this week. He should be posting pictures soon. I really think everyone should be keeping an eye on this. It seems like a pivotal point right now, things could swing either way depending on how this goes. Old boys are chuckling to themselves in little rooms and erasing the upoming election. Bad news. It’s a toss up if rioting will happen, though it seems like one is being engineered. William’s saying Dante Street. Bad enough that the current government is pushing for purely electronic voting on machines that are proven to be easy to tamper with. Not, of course, that it would even be needed. They did a good enough job shoving the vote over to where they wanted without pressing a few buttons. Heard about how a few thousand New Yorkers were also listed to vote in Florida? Highly illegal but only caught a few weeks ago because “they don’t check voting rolls across state lines”. Extra nice that it was Florida, I thought. Votes went down for people that never left thier state. You’d think the media would have something more to say that a tiny paragraph on page fifty-three. Course, instead of covering the bill that allows the US Government to postpone the election if ‘a threat to national security is discovered’, they flare up with propaganda for the gay marriage issue. So much for them.  Enough of this and  I won’t want to live so close to a WWII Germany. I already want to live in Europe, more reasons to leave are a fourty-five minute drive away.

I need some nice warm blankets. Walking home sixty blocks on no food whatsoever to save on busfare only to wake up at 5:30 in the morning from cold is simply arduous. Time to rummage in the closet. I’d really like to meet the woman in charge of the weather. I’ve got some questions for that dame. I’d put her in that classic room with the swinging light and a cigarette. I’m sure she smokes by now. All the crap in the air gaurantees it. Her eyes must be filmed by yellow tears all the time. Each and every one of those hairspray bottles keeps her hair stiff and her dress is filmy cloud. I wonder if she’s pretty anymore.

Twinge, toil, and trouble. I stretched and felt as if implanted wires had broken in my flesh. Sharp, sharp, they cut and burn. Suddenly glad of an enforced seven hours in a chair in spite of the fact that I’m already obsessivly checking my mail. A muttered good morning darling to a new letter. Yesterday my company was quite taken and I was quite taken by my company, but who knows about today. One can hope, but certainty nothing.

Gah – need to reboot for work.

edit: I utterly have nothing to do with the person who left that comment nor do I agree with thier comments. They sound like my father. Hope you’re well Darren and this person can’t get at you. I, for one, am honoured to know you. Keep up the breath-takingly gorgeous work.

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This is the point where I admit I use this thing more than pretty much anyone I know. By about.. oh, a lot. It continues to work for me, so I’m going to continue along. When I suddenly overnight needed a place to live, everything was taken care of here. Just a post in a community and events unfolded in three days into putting a damage deposit down. The world becomes easier. There’s a network of a few thousand people I don’t know and I get access to thier knowledge. It’s brilliant. I can share my pictures and have memories in post. Precious people appear here and invade my life like my favourite colours. I’ve never encountered a successful networking medium before though I give a looksee at all that come my way. I’ve been here a year and I’m in love.

To further increase the general oddity that has been my living lately – tonight I’m going to a goth housewarming. One imagines bringing black candles, though alas and woe the dollarstores are closed by now. Oh dreaded be this symphony of lackadaisical timing. Wait. Lackadaisical isn’t very goth, is it. Okay – Dank timing. Dank mouldering timing. Timing what rots inside skulls of dead poets. The wind it doesn’t howl to mark this doomed hour. This doomed and bleak hour of dried fragrant roses and black feathery wings.

Yeah – I’m so not dressing up.

So the world has done it’s little turn of a million miles an hour and the sun is setting. Soon it will be closed in again. Freedom in the air as well as fall. The taste of the air says no more. The summer is gone, the leaves will fall and the rain will pour down again and soon. I want to walk on the ocean, touch my feet to the water and float. Step on the stones there. I want there to be music and I want there to be people I’ve never met. People don’t own me but my ties to them do. I don’t have vision and so I respect it so much it burns. This fire that I can only see but not hold. Everything feels so far away but the smiles. The smiles are here. I carry them. Owned by this flesh, this face can sculpt again. Thinking of the little things. Inflection, the reflections. I can’t take a bad picture. The road tonight will have giggling girls. I’ll know her a bit better and her. I can carry that, I can embrace it. Feel this giddy joy that only comes under streetlights these days. Sweetness.

Nothing else all day but talk with people born to stare. It’s more than I need. It’s somehow a blessing, the people in my life. Unreality, like living in a television set. Wave and watch myself wave back. This building is a false front, didn’t you know? It’s all gone, the world. Now we’ll give you more than you thought you had. Because we can, because we like you. You’re invisible. I feel like flying. Any minute now I’ll jump and I will not land.

Pity my fish is dying.