ka ching.
today i payed my silly bill to bc revenue services medical
and my folk festival tickets arrived in the mail.
i plowed thru eleven mad hatter submissions and
also, i called to confirm i will take a job
that fell onto me from the sky. after i take a shower,
i will go to the shop and pick up my cheque and maybe
i will even allow myself a little treat at bean and spend some time
in the sun, reading for pleasure.


at this time, when the light is a long stroke sideways,
all the little insects with translucent wings catch the sun
in their humble flight and they float around glowing like snow
that's not falling
something strange possessed me this night to drink an americano at nine thirty.
and i think i expected to fall asleep at a decent hour anyway.
chelsea, you silly cat.


you know, sometimes i really regret not having studio space.
i regret not being a visual art student for this reason.
i'm always so preoccupied, here, with
making a mess.
writing is not a messy activity, usually.
but making shit is.


this day included such wholesome activities as
mad hatter reading lunch at bean a visit from another lost friend the purchase of a black briefcase and the subsequent giving-away of my free one from gabriola island and also an ice cream at the sea (cookies and cream) and a barbeque, with sausages, and cats.
also noteworthy is that a copy of the very hungry caterpillar was purchased for me at a garage sale by a very dear soul.
for all these things, i send my gratitude into the night.
today, i spent a rather large quantity of my afternoon in value village wandering around aimlessly, as i am wont to do as of late.
acquired was a perfect, tailored, blue oxford shirt, which i have actually spent the last six years of my life looking for, and also a poster of henri rousseau's 1897 oil on canvas the sleeping gypsy, for the loft.
it's a nice thing for the loft to have. a woman falls asleep in the desert. a lion happens upon her but the lion does not eat her. the lion just keeps an eye out. and all the while, way up there in the big night, that round white smirk just moons down...

furthermore, today, my best mancat showed up
out of nowhere, from out of province, and pleasant surprises were had by all.


another variation on the dream.
in this one, against the window, three webs and three spiders spinning.
i do not see an immediate solution to this situation. i don't want to call it a problem, but it's becoming more and more apparent that a problem is what i'm dealing with.
something about my third eye.
something about triangles.
however, it is just discovered that my spirit quartz fits exactly into the cage, pointing up.
so buckle up, chelsea. buckle that thing around you.
first time since april.


i always wonder what goes on in the night on the mornings
i wake up clutching
my star


on the porch just now, this little thing just bubbled into my head.
i don't know where it came from, it just floated up from the bottom as these things are wont to do at this time of night, which is likely why i'm usually asleep by this hour.

nothing you can say can make it go away

and i came back in and i thought
i have heard this somewhere before.
i have
did i hear this

so i typed it all into google and of course, it was our dear paulie
of the heartbreaking monologues, come back to haunt me in this
back slanting time. come back as if to ask me, ok chelsea,
how far have you come?


it feels, out, much later than it is.
i feel like i didn't accomplish what i needed to today,
except i don't know what exactly that is.
which is annoying because i did a lot of things.
it's sunday and i have no reason to feel lazy.
but it's still sunday and it's something about
the dishes in my sink
after all this time and the story,
which i hate all of a sudden.
o, it's just something
about sundown and dismay.
rest day. restless day
and my mixed up sensibilities.

also, i'm starting to feel like i'm middle-aged
with all this going to bed at ten business and yet somehow
it can't be helped.


i'm been having some variation on the same dream now since april, probably, because my subconscious has to work this out somewhere, probably, so it might as well be in rem time, but i'm not getting anywhere yet and its making me


some comments:
turns out david sedaris writes a pretty good short story.
my hair is just about ready to curl.
i'm learning how to eat my groceries and tonight
i will be in bed by nine o'clock.


today i spent an inordinate amount of time in value village
looking for a copy of the very hungry caterpillar.
i didn't find it, but i did find instead
a house for hermit crab,
which, in light of my present situation, is highly relevant.

and now, my salt lamp is on and ckua is playing tori amos and leonard cohen
and i'm having a nice time.
i put out a free box full of books i have never read or will never read again
(good karma i figure, since a house for hermit crab was from v v, after all)
and my shelves are just such a pleasure. AND
the sun was out
all day
and i needed that.

and now, my biggest deliberation is
do i make paper crafts or do i write a story or do i read tales of power or do i
go to sleep.

summa, hi.
i love you.


a job description:

chelsea, she says to me,
will you do me a favour and love the cat for a minute?


this morning, as per the libra side of my monday horiscope,
i woke up early and started dealing with insurance paperwork
and all i have to say about it is
dear green shield,
unless you can do this right,
you should really just stop pretending.
it's not very nice.
unwillingly yours
(until september),

as a result, as per the libra side of my monday horiscope,
i'm a little stressed out about money. all this money
i won't get back from green shield.
but o well, i'm telling myself.
look past it. it will all
work out

in the mean time,
start saving for the folk festival.
looking forward.


i heard a funny joke in a film the other day.
(called kicking and screaming).

-how do you make god laugh?
-make a plan.
i am having what they call
a dark hour
(and it will all be a funny story
i'll tell later).


bean's americano officially makes me feel like a hypomaniac.
this, combined with the bout of morose weather we're having,
makes things interesting.
pointless hour-long meanders through value village.
pointless hour-long meanders through the market.
pointless rounds around my living room.
however, now there are
grapes in a bowl
beers in the fridge
earrings in my purse,
which means i must have done at least something productive with my afternoon.
poetry gabriola says:


We're having a huge yard sale. Not really poetry related except that the funds are going to establish a retreat for visiting writers. And I thought you might be interested, and would love the chance to see you. And poetry will be for sale at the sale...

Items include:
Antiques, paintings, books, games, April Cornell summer quilt set (queen), silver service, miniature piano, monkey purse, oil can and glass paperweight collections, other collectables, fun fur coat, mel-mac, dishes, bakeware, blankets, baskets, motorcycle boots, tank bag, expensive clothes from overlarge man who lost 100lbs, silver buffalo pendant, new ikea curtains, robot, stuffed chickens etc.

(o, my real life awaits me
o, i wish i could be there for this)


i finished sophie's world this morning.
now i don't know what to do with myself.
that thing is a tome. that thing
has occupied my life all week.
i guess now i'm actually going to have to read all that
mad hatter fiction in my briefcase.
i will wake early and get out of this house and do it.
probably i will go to value village.
probably i will just get another book.
probably by carlos castaneda.

some interesting acquisitions these last few days:
finally, a lamp for my kitchen
a very silly wool cardigan with brass buttons (they have the canadian sheild on them)
a tree, srsly, and
a gustav klimt print, for the loo.

it's like someone out there is saying
don't leave this place, chelsea.
don't leave yet.

and it's like i'm saying,
o alright.
i won't. and i won't
fret about it

something is happening in this house and
it's exciting. and o do i have plans
or what. this probably means it's a good thing
i'm finished sophie's world
because this probably means i should stop reading
and start doing home improvement.


those last days went out with rather a flourish;
however, it's no-sweater weather and now
my apartment has been restored to
good working order.
thanks, mayday.