je commence encore
--- --- ---
time: tempting me, deshevling me. throwing me into the throes of anticipation and mourning. So many things on the horizon, so many things in the past. I cannot find the words to express exactly what it is that churns inside me at this moment, but it is strong and constant. Reversion is bittersweet. How much do we really know about who we were? Do we ever really change?
--- --- ---
I write, shoot, blog, draw NOthing in the last month & the split second I get myself back here it begins in waves. yes. i'm home. This is home now and that is fine because time was spent well. It also warms me to know that the spirit of art is being shared somewhere deep in the heart of the exchange district as I type these words. I wish I was there but am glad that I'm here; happy to be gone again, happy to still feel gut-panging for my darling, darling winnipeg (a savvy karaoke referent, non?) I am a fucking weakerthan, forgive me if you mourn our city limits. Leave & then return anew, that is my advice.
Change is a strange beast when you are facing it caged and bound. I have been there and back and there and back again. The concept of having only one definitive 'home' is a complex negotiation at this time. Even when an old home has been sold away. An Osborne Apt is a mere memory. The deuce days are dead. It's as though the physical reminants of a past place in my town has dissolved - while the tangable things of having a place - initially brought in two duffel bags - have regenerated themselves here. Objects are strange coordinates; they cannot tell you where you belong. I have concluded to belong here, for a moment more, though those I love cling steadfast to my heart and other places.
The 1391 are hectic as heck - people coming, going, crashing, loving, hating, working, preparing and generally anticipating to have a busy fall. all right now. it was quite the welcome home today. I have more roommates than ever before, which is strange and wonderful. We are all ready to start anew and see the end of a transient summer in our home. Thorough the chaos of bags waiting to be unpacked, questions waiting for answers and pregnant ideas waiting for birth, I have fallen in love all over again thanks to my faux fam and friends. I wonder how people can function in four walls, as roommates or lovers, and come out endearing eachother as we do; I am thankful. But instead of drinking up the company I have at my disposal I have decided instead to fuck off to ottawa for the weekend, just to return to welcome ANOTHER body into my home, the advent of school, & banging-on again. What a weekend to end a month of winnipeg. In a single day I have moved from there to here, deeply thinking about the spaces in between and the faces that fill them. fuuuuck it is heavy.
--- --- ---
Despite the mental unrest, I took it easy today doing the regular things; laundry, groceries, unpacking, napping, reading 'tropic of cancer' and touching myself. Thank you Henry Miller, I am cunt-struck. These exerpts from the first sixty nine pages of the book are raw and awesome. I can understand very well why anais nin did what she did with him and his june. clutch. I would have been there in a second, though he was beardless.
Heres the juice:
'I am fucking you, Tania, So that you'll stay fucked. And if you are afraid of being fucked publicly I will fuck you privately.'
'Men went inside her and curled up'
'There are people who cannot resist the desire to get into a cage with wild beasts and be mangled.'
'I have made a silent compact with myself not to change a line of what I write. I am not interested in perfecting my thoughts, nor my actions... it is the triumph of the individual over art' (hmm.)
'I can feel again her heavy hand resting upon my shoulder, frightening me a litle with her heavy Lesbian air.'
& Germaine: 'As she stood up to dry herself, still talking to me pleasantly, suddenly she dropped the towel and, advancing toward me leisurely, she commenced rubbing her pussy affectionately, stroking it with her two hands, caressing it, patting it. There was somthing about her eloquence at that moment and the way she thrust that rosebush under my nose which remains unforgettable; she spoke of it as if it were some extraneous object which she had acquired at great cost, an object whose value had increased with time and which now she przed above everything in the world. Her words imbued it with a peculiar fragrance; it was no longer just her private organ, but a treasure, a magic, a God-given thing - and none the less so because she traded it day in and day out for a few pieces of silver... I liked her so well that after dinner we went back to the hotel again and took another shot at it. 'For love,' this time. And again that big, bushy thing of hers worked its bloom and magic. It began to have an independent existence- for me too... Most of the time she enjoyed it - or gave the illusion of enjoying it. It made a differnce of course, whom she went with - or came with. But the principal thing was a man. That was what she craved. A man with something between his legs that could tickle her, that could make her writhe in ecstacy, make ger grab that bushy twat of hers with a sense of connection, a sense of life. That was the oonly place where she experienced any life - down there where she clutched herself with both hands.'
'I keep thinking of my really superb health. When I say 'health' I mean optimism, to be truthful. Incurably optimistic! Still have one foot in the ninteenth century. I'm a bit retarded... I've lived out my melancholy youth. I dont give a fuck any more what's behind me, or what's ahead of me. I'm healthy. Incurably healthy. no sorrows, no regrets. no past, no future. The present is enough for me. day by day. today!'
-- -- -- --
hah. I just reread this whole thing and havent the slightest phathom why I am about to put it out there.The time has arrived to quit writing about internal things because I need to be relevant. Immediately. Maybe next time. love, lb
ps. i didnt do it guys; this is the biggest disappointment of being home. I meant to do it. I was willing to do it in broad daylight with a stolen marker from paramix, but I just didnt. I dont know why I didnt. I would have. The only solstice is that I will do it here, come hell or high water. Lots of time on my hands to maybe learn how to wheat paste the fuckers - all eight of them - out here. I WILL moustache our village one day, I swear to God, it just wasnt in the stars this time around. it definately will be next time, this is sure. unless someone does it first...
time: tempting me, deshevling me. throwing me into the throes of anticipation and mourning. So many things on the horizon, so many things in the past. I cannot find the words to express exactly what it is that churns inside me at this moment, but it is strong and constant. Reversion is bittersweet. How much do we really know about who we were? Do we ever really change?
--- --- ---
I write, shoot, blog, draw NOthing in the last month & the split second I get myself back here it begins in waves. yes. i'm home. This is home now and that is fine because time was spent well. It also warms me to know that the spirit of art is being shared somewhere deep in the heart of the exchange district as I type these words. I wish I was there but am glad that I'm here; happy to be gone again, happy to still feel gut-panging for my darling, darling winnipeg (a savvy karaoke referent, non?) I am a fucking weakerthan, forgive me if you mourn our city limits. Leave & then return anew, that is my advice.
Change is a strange beast when you are facing it caged and bound. I have been there and back and there and back again. The concept of having only one definitive 'home' is a complex negotiation at this time. Even when an old home has been sold away. An Osborne Apt is a mere memory. The deuce days are dead. It's as though the physical reminants of a past place in my town has dissolved - while the tangable things of having a place - initially brought in two duffel bags - have regenerated themselves here. Objects are strange coordinates; they cannot tell you where you belong. I have concluded to belong here, for a moment more, though those I love cling steadfast to my heart and other places.
The 1391 are hectic as heck - people coming, going, crashing, loving, hating, working, preparing and generally anticipating to have a busy fall. all right now. it was quite the welcome home today. I have more roommates than ever before, which is strange and wonderful. We are all ready to start anew and see the end of a transient summer in our home. Thorough the chaos of bags waiting to be unpacked, questions waiting for answers and pregnant ideas waiting for birth, I have fallen in love all over again thanks to my faux fam and friends. I wonder how people can function in four walls, as roommates or lovers, and come out endearing eachother as we do; I am thankful. But instead of drinking up the company I have at my disposal I have decided instead to fuck off to ottawa for the weekend, just to return to welcome ANOTHER body into my home, the advent of school, & banging-on again. What a weekend to end a month of winnipeg. In a single day I have moved from there to here, deeply thinking about the spaces in between and the faces that fill them. fuuuuck it is heavy.
--- --- ---
Despite the mental unrest, I took it easy today doing the regular things; laundry, groceries, unpacking, napping, reading 'tropic of cancer' and touching myself. Thank you Henry Miller, I am cunt-struck. These exerpts from the first sixty nine pages of the book are raw and awesome. I can understand very well why anais nin did what she did with him and his june. clutch. I would have been there in a second, though he was beardless.
Heres the juice:
'I am fucking you, Tania, So that you'll stay fucked. And if you are afraid of being fucked publicly I will fuck you privately.'
'Men went inside her and curled up'
'There are people who cannot resist the desire to get into a cage with wild beasts and be mangled.'
'I have made a silent compact with myself not to change a line of what I write. I am not interested in perfecting my thoughts, nor my actions... it is the triumph of the individual over art' (hmm.)
'I can feel again her heavy hand resting upon my shoulder, frightening me a litle with her heavy Lesbian air.'
& Germaine: 'As she stood up to dry herself, still talking to me pleasantly, suddenly she dropped the towel and, advancing toward me leisurely, she commenced rubbing her pussy affectionately, stroking it with her two hands, caressing it, patting it. There was somthing about her eloquence at that moment and the way she thrust that rosebush under my nose which remains unforgettable; she spoke of it as if it were some extraneous object which she had acquired at great cost, an object whose value had increased with time and which now she przed above everything in the world. Her words imbued it with a peculiar fragrance; it was no longer just her private organ, but a treasure, a magic, a God-given thing - and none the less so because she traded it day in and day out for a few pieces of silver... I liked her so well that after dinner we went back to the hotel again and took another shot at it. 'For love,' this time. And again that big, bushy thing of hers worked its bloom and magic. It began to have an independent existence- for me too... Most of the time she enjoyed it - or gave the illusion of enjoying it. It made a differnce of course, whom she went with - or came with. But the principal thing was a man. That was what she craved. A man with something between his legs that could tickle her, that could make her writhe in ecstacy, make ger grab that bushy twat of hers with a sense of connection, a sense of life. That was the oonly place where she experienced any life - down there where she clutched herself with both hands.'
'I keep thinking of my really superb health. When I say 'health' I mean optimism, to be truthful. Incurably optimistic! Still have one foot in the ninteenth century. I'm a bit retarded... I've lived out my melancholy youth. I dont give a fuck any more what's behind me, or what's ahead of me. I'm healthy. Incurably healthy. no sorrows, no regrets. no past, no future. The present is enough for me. day by day. today!'
-- -- -- --
hah. I just reread this whole thing and havent the slightest phathom why I am about to put it out there.The time has arrived to quit writing about internal things because I need to be relevant. Immediately. Maybe next time. love, lb
ps. i didnt do it guys; this is the biggest disappointment of being home. I meant to do it. I was willing to do it in broad daylight with a stolen marker from paramix, but I just didnt. I dont know why I didnt. I would have. The only solstice is that I will do it here, come hell or high water. Lots of time on my hands to maybe learn how to wheat paste the fuckers - all eight of them - out here. I WILL moustache our village one day, I swear to God, it just wasnt in the stars this time around. it definately will be next time, this is sure. unless someone does it first...
posted by Loco at
2:32 AM
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