i am taking emilia to the bike repair shop tomorrow morning.
a nice man with nice tattoos is going to change out her handlebars
for the ten dollar used pair i chose out after work today,
and i'll get her back tomorrow afternoon.
the repair will be much cheaper than i thought and i received an enormous
work cheque today..
meanwhile, all the tenderness is subsiding
but the bruises on my leg are still swollen
comet heads, delicate jellyfish,
wavering aureoles dark around them.
the scrape on my elbow, if i look closely
and with enough perversion, vaguely resembles an erect penis and two testicles.
i think this is funny.
my hip is a meteor shower of shrinking scabs.
maybe the shop will have gold handlebar tape.
maybe i'll ride to goldstream on sunday.
i'm breathing into my wounds and soon they'll all turn yellow.
there is a sun somewhere and it's glinting like a monacle
and something is looking through


took a pretty big spill this afternoon.
victoria wind is a strong thing,
yes it is.
tomorrow i will take emilia
to the bike repair shop and have her outfitted
with a new pair of handlebars because these ones are crooked
where the pavement crushed them.
as for me, well, i guess it just wasn't my time. or,
i really am a cat and i'm down
another life.
either way, i would just like to thank the universe
for keeping me out of a coma, or a cast, or a morgue.
thank you, universe,
from the bottom of my little cat heart.
to celebrate my pulse,
i cut off all my hair.


funny little day i've had today.
yes indeed.
drank a double americano
in two point five seconds at four thirty
and rode halfway home with m.
we flew down the foul bay hill on our prehistoric bikes
like a couple of screeching pterodactyls and i
came home to my enormous tax return, which i used
to pay off my equally enormous visa bill
while my sheets and dirty underwear churned in the wash.
did the silliest yoga class ever and now i'm going to make
my little bed draw some little pictures read a little book.
i'm going to be up until dawn at this rate and maybe
it's the caffeine or maybe it's the part of the story
i'm not telling.


mercury is retrograde
according to the almighty monday horiscope.
i'm biting my tongue.
the first time i heard about retrograde mercury,
i thought it was a phenomenon, like a lunar eclipse,
with a similar rate of occurrence.
little did i know.
imagine my dismay
when i discovered retrograde mars.
anyway, this is highly inconvenient timing
for backward planetary orbits
as far as i'm concerned
because as far as i'm concerned,
retrograde happened three weeks ago
and by now i'm like, ok people,
let's get this thing rolling
for realz this time.
but i know there's still more to do,
more to wrap up, a few more neat parcels
of grief to post return to sender;
there are more snafus to endure, more things to keep track of
(my sanity, for instance), more things
to wait on (the Revelation, perhaps?), more things
to get in my way. at the same time
though, something in here is turning a deaf ear to my careful understanding
of the chaos theory and it's yelling,
the way my mother does when she's about to explode,
get out of my way!
i'm going insane!


wait. sorry,
ten thousand images burned into my retinas
overstimulated overstimulated
fell asleep at dawn
and here we are
(in a room without a door)


off the grid tomorrow
yeah bitches
world telekinesis championship here i come


a conversation with the third eye

i've been listening to a lot of sarah harmer today.
some things in my life don't change.
she's always been my solace when i feel like shit and right now
everything is hard,
everything rubs me the wrong way,
everything is made of shards
of noxious plastic which melt as soon as they splinter skin.
call it the wind or the full moon
or the flickering, fidgeting ovum.
call it destitution or matter
over spirit, call it a sin,
call it gluttony, call it pride,
call it sloth. call it futility, a moth
at the porch light, wings
singed by the fire but still beating.
whatever. any of these will fill the hole,
but only part way.

the sun sets. the sun rises.
the sun will keep going until it goes
out and you are not responsible for its burning.
true, you will burn while the sun burns but the sun will outlast you.
the dark is scarier but the dark is broken open by moonlight,
which is sunlight also, deflected.
you need to remember this.
this is all you need. the sun.
the salutations.
there is something up there, listening,
though you don't know what it is or under what pretense.
remember the right language.
remember the dry sprawl of the desert letters inside your mouth
beit, yod, nun, hei.
remember their swirl there, into words. a word.
binah, binah.
say it and say it again and something
will answer. it doesn't matter when.


i love
how no matter what i do, my soups always wind up like stew. i love evening sun and cigarettes and bean around the world and margaret fucking atwood.
lace collars, pendulums,
the chinese coins i'm going to plait
into my hair when it reaches its appropriate length.
Children of the Yukon.
street lamps and ovulation,
the stones. dry cider.
the fucking summer.
my bike
the foul bay hill
wind on my breasts
sweat in the small
of my back


so what if i like to get stoned and listen to sophie b. hawkins?

my life the last few days. holy. tuna.
everything is renewing, or something.
coming full circle. for example,
last march i gave an inordinate sum of money to a woman
on a street corner
i'm a lawyer in toronto
i can pay you back double
. i saw her again.
she did it again. and i almost told her
in that case, lady, you still owe me a hundred and twenty bucks,
but then i decided it wasn't my scrap to pick
and left it for the pumice.
i've been having a lot of those revelations lately.
like, what is my place in the universe revelations.
and mostly i guess that's just a mass burned heap of all these small ones
like how this year i've started grocery shopping on sundays
because sundays depress me
and i've taken to eating my pain
how maybe people only call things cheesy because the subject matter at hand is a dangling carrot, it's closer to a truth we can't always decipher because the ballast of the divine archetype
is cynicism. counterweights on the shifting scale.
and if we can't have it, it's dumb anyway.
right? isn't that how this works?
the tarot has started making unprecedented amounts of sense.
what do they call those things.
breakthroughs. glaciers
exploding. something is
happening and, i don't know.
i'm smirking a lot.
smirk smirk smuuuuuuurrrk
heh heh heh
hee hee hee
cat smells
tuna. and cat

09489-burning-man-2006 - Evan the Tarot man: "You got the DEATH card!"
Originally uploaded by loupiote (Old Skool).



this day was so many degrees of
(the temperature was only part of the reason)

use it to remind yourself that you actually like your job
use it to remind yourself that you actually like your life
use it to remind yourself that there are cool people all over this fucking town
...........................................and they actually like you


here we are.
cost = gain
nitrous oxide = air


this morning we carried portable walls up the gallery stairs right after the following conversation:
l. i vote myself to be the weakest person.
c. ok.
l. well, actually, you're smaller than i am.
c. i'm a pretty strong lady, actually.
m. yeah, man. what are you talking about? chelsea does yoga all day. she's like madonna. she could move this thing by herself. she could move this thing with her mind.

i loled hardcore and spent the rest of the day singing ray of light inside my head.
zephyr in the sky at night i wonder
do my tears of mourning sink beneath the sun
she's got herself a universe gone quickly
for the call of thunder threatens everyone


long and unproductive conversation with the tarot tonight.
i asked a lot of questions. it gave a lot of dubious answers.
talking to the tarot is like talking to jean doe.
blink once for yes, twice for no.
only jean doe's therapist didn't have a signal for maybe.
an interesting pattern has emerged, however:
all of the women i fall in love with turn up in my readings as the queen of cups.
all of them.
the tarot tells me, if nothing else, i have a type after all.
(i didn't think i did)
intelligent, creative. reckless.
sounds about right.
i'm going to go smoke my sixth cigarette of the day and hope it's not a sign of damnation.


i stayed quiet so long because i knew if i let anything out this would happen but i couldn't help it and now i'm in big trouble because i did and it did


don't you think it's funny how i haven't had your phone number written down for two years and
i still remember it after all this time