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Carita
Carita


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a quasi-stream-of-consciousness contemplation on the occasion of another trip...

around the sun
today i revel in its noon-day height
as the warmth basks my new bedroom
and me, in my birthday suit
comfortable
in my skin, and joints
even at the monitor
(thanks no doubt to lately daily yoga
- two weeks and cycling... stretching...
breathing - sometimes deeply, and learning
constantly to allow myself digression, patience
- the shallow has its benefits, too - contrast)
type a tap tap, it can be overwhelming
to stay in touch, together, on track
but it helps to strive, to practice
letting go - even though i'm not Buddhist
nor do i believe in attachment
as a negative force - not all-ways
at least - i am open - trying
to take lessons from experience
other than my own
personal(l)(it)y

b(e)(e)
exist, buzz, in a group or many
even alone i am a-part
by meritocracy or chance or neither
an illusion, but that is magic too
curious the way things change
yet stay the same, cliche, new
faces morph into familiarity and fade
shiny foils, motifs, questions recur
in new settings resembling those past
and suddenly, spiral
the present is in your hands
waiting to be unwrapped, layer by layer
a game, not so much about the final prize
but revealing new designs/colours/sensations
- will you rip the paper?
bzzzz.

c-om-mun-ity, cohesion, cariño
concepts carry and have carried me
here, to this universal (my) centre
from which i (have r)evolve(d)
for (my) eternity, destiny, energy
the little burning planet i am
on an astral course
bent on shining bright
in creation/destruction
- are those the same?
were they (n)ever?

decisions are not daunting
when you listen to the voice
of choice, and your gut and mind
collude, informing, reforming
conforming to your groove.
just move.

early this morning i danced
in a circle of drums, indoors
and blew out rob's light(er)
and ate recovered strudel
that i'd carried on jennie's bike
through the market to bloor
and got carded at the bar door
like i never did a decade before
i thought to myself:
it's nice to be home.

forgive yesterday's abandoned plans
for they know not how you've changed
and are better for it.

give yourself hugs
and send them off
to the universe
after you've had your fill.

hear, listen, absorb, internalise.

i sometimes (often) need
to remind myself
to succumb
to serenity.

join me?

keep it up.

laughing
at the silliness
of alphabetic.

missing you
but reassured by that
faith in spite of distance

no.

oh.

please.

quaint or quivering?

right on.

so...

the point is, i'm writing.
l'escriture me manque.
le français aussi.

underneath it all,
has anything really
been affected?

voila.

warm wishes flood my inbox
from over seas
places where things
are worse/different/better
dizzying, reassuring, inspiring...
where am i meant to be later?
(toronto for now feels right)

x's can be wonderful friends.

y?

zoodles.
i used to love that pasta
in a can, smothered in sweet
red tomato sauce. it's been
too long since the intervention
of politics, nutritional content
gmos, aluminum correlations...
ah, nostalgia, self-indulgant flow.
age > #
= salud y actitud.

November 22, 2006 | 3:54 PM Comments  0 comments

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Rat(s).

9:30am.

"Did you just knock on my door?" I ask, groggy, through the locked bathroom door.

"No," Amira answers from within, "but there are some strange noises in here."

I pace through the kitchen of my new Kensington Market home and look out the front door; nobody's there. My heart sinks, and I'm not sure why - intuition?

I take my turn on the toilet.

All alone, I contemplate this eery feeling for mere seconds when I instinctively turn towards an increasingly common sound at the sink-end of the WR - but louder - and am staring at a little furry creature. A large little furry creature.

And - call it a hunch - I know two things immediately:

1) It's the one (or at least of the species) that's been making all the noise in the walls,

and,

2) it's definitely not a squirrel (as Bruce had pontificated).

Oh no, sirry... It's just like a mouse - a cute 'n pesky mouse - but it's too big to be a mouse. And it's staring back.

It looks less afraid than I probably do. I put on a mean veneer. Show no fear... Yeah right. I'm sure it can see right through me.

"Amira," I call, trembling a bit. I can see her shadow in the living room through the frosted brick wall. "We have a problem. I just saw it."

"Are you okay?" she asks. I'm trying to be.

It's been just over two weeks since I moved into my new Toronto home: my first _ever_ since moving out of my parents' place at 17 that I haven't seen as totally temporary. And I like it here!!

My roommates are cool, fun, interesting, and great kitchen companions to boot; my room is cozy and I'm working on the decor; the location (despite the noisy bar downstairs and the mice - which we were eradicating and I was putting up with just fine) is awesome; and I was starting to get excited about the potential for this place to be the "home sweet home" I've started really craving in my travels of late.

But I have to go to the washroom again, and I'm scared to.

I take a step out of the (psychological) safety of my room, and see its tail. Its long, skinny rat-tail.

Damn.

November 16, 2006 | 9:47 AM Comments  0 comments

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