walking.

i went somewhere important tonight
because it’s august

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& it was the right place to be.

walked the rideau river in the dark, swing sets off rideau river road, sunnyside to echo, the long way through the side streets, east side of the canal, bay windows & balconies, no exit signs, main street, pretoria bridge and the canal back to home, fifth avenue.

quinquennium.

IMG_7957it’s my blog’s fifth anniversary today! or not actually today, because when i looked it up my first post seems to have been written august 4th, 2009. but i got the notification today, which means today’s the day i’m celebrating.

when i started writing this blog it was a way to get myself writing again, because summers are lazy, or just because i’m lazy in general, or whatever. i started the blog one night after i came home from work (the same office i work in now – i’ve been there for five years too. come to think of it i’ve been on twitter for five years as well. i guess 2009 was a big year for me. it’s also the year i met my boyfriend, even though we didn’t start dating until 2012, but that’s not as important as twitter, this blog, or my job.), and i remember feeling so discouraged that school would be starting again soon and that i’d barely read anything all summer that was just for myself.

i’ve posted about a billion poems here, probably, but this blog has also seen me through my apartment fire, my old bronson life, my quarter-of-a-century-life crisis,  my isolationism, me trying to sort some shit out,  feeling alive in the cemetery, not getting out of bed all day, adjusting to other human beings,  saying goodbye to my solo apartment, saying goodbye to my childhood friend. and some other shit too, i’m sure. not to mention my 2011 memory scrapbook, which i still think of fondly & remember spending so many hours making. best way to spend new year’s day ever.

i guess in a way i’m sort of proud of myself for keeping it going this long. i didn’t really expect that when i started, but here i am. there have been months where i’ve gone without writing anything, but then i always do again. and i know it’s kind of dumb to have a writing blog where i never even post anything i’d publish, but it helps just having it here. and i’ve grown kind of attached to it. right now most of my poems are under wraps for another few months, but i’ve been writing and it’s been kind of comforting, or something.

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what i’m currently working on (super secret surprise poems)

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random words of wisdom i found while walking to work

dear february.

dear february,

i’m sorry for all the bad things i said to you and about you and behind your back. you are cold and cruel, but you are lovely also. you didn’t hurt me; i hurt myself & tried to bring you with me.

you did not lie to me any more times than i lied to you or to myself. i was wrong. i am aware that i could have been different, if not for myself then for you, because you could not have been different.

you lose a day for three years out of four. you are unpredictable and dark, you are not tall. you are unfriendly. your shoes are thinning at the soles. denim shows the fat your legs are lacking. i could not love a thing about you, except that you exist. i still do. as you fade into the melting spring i will end up lonely and you will be a memory.

of walking in our winter clothes, of sunshine on cement. old coffee in a paper cup. i’m so much more than fine with that.

the memories are worth it and
i’m sorry. you are good.

2011 memory scrapbook.

because it’s the first day of 2012 and everything, and because i’m spending my day in my bed in my blankets with the window open and with a cup of bottomless coffee and gunther for company, i thought i’d take a look back at some of my favourite things from last year. because i fucking need to be reminded that good things happened last year.

it’s cut, because it’s long, and really only for me.

Continue reading

weather.

an attraction less halted,
more swept with the
streets by the salt trucks

he tells me it’s been
a long year, thinned like
the bottoms of socks we would
fold on his bed,
deflated like bellies
emptied for
summer, bites from
the bugs in the grass, or limp,
fallen like leaves, as far as
we have to the floor.

i say i forget.
don’t remember that bed,
or the weather

bodymovin.

in my phone somewhere near the back, if that’s a thing, which it isn’t probably, there is a photo i found of him sitting across a table from me. once a long time ago i thought it therapeutic to organize the pictures from my phone. that was an overwhelming task. today when i went to do the same thing, when i tried to recall february because my nails are red and last christmas and our neighbours and the smell of peppermint and chocolate, when i went to do the same thing, i mean, i found that i haven’t taken any photos off my phone since the end of september when everything that was going wrong suddenly got better.

and that’s how i came across a picture of him.

logical explanations are the best.

now please excuse me while i do what i do best: drink cans of beer & dance to this with my fish, all day.