Thursday, 2 December 2010
Lined and crisp elbows fold up to deep pools, yours full of fluffy dark hair, mine lined with stubble from shaving, and beneath one, the oval cyst that I can move about with my fingers.
The skin on the back of my arms is raised in bumps, dry from scrubbing. Yours are full of ink, ink that will be there until the day you die. Each dot links to another, they form lines and shapes, tessellating across your chest.
Ribs line up, leading down your torso, and mine. Past them is the place where we were once connected to our mothers. Where our smaller, less formed selves linked to another human being, and curled up inside their bodies, we got ready to use ours.
It was raining, but it was rain you can't hear landing on the roof. Instead you can see it resting on plants and droplets hang in wait beneath railings, ready to drop, drop, drip.
I took the bus to meet you at the train station, your stomach was bulging, I think you were 8 months along. I had a coffee and you some juice, you folded napkins into flower shapes and I pulled out some chalk to colour them red.
When it was time, I found the envelope full of notes and slotted it into that book about evolution you lent me and passed it across the table. You stepped onto the train and a friendly man lifted your suitcase into the storage space whilst you waved and waved.
Raincoats rustle, eyes water, light in the dark.
Swaying to and fro in the wind.
Losing wet leaves to the pavement,
Green,red, orange, yellow.
Crisp, regal, overpowering,
They fill the skyline.
They tower over us,
Yet start life in the ground below us.
Roots meet soil,
Worms and birds' nests.
Kites lodged in,
Cat crawl, paint.
Delicate, wispy and dreaming,
Connecting, rumbling and breathing.
Thursday, 18 November 2010
Smelling of soap.
Smelling like yourself.
Hairy, dimples, pores, open.
Healing, sweating, breathing, rubbing.
Friction, an elbow touches a hand, electricity.
Wrinkles, folds, envelope, character.
Scrub, invigorate, rosy, bright cheeks.
It grows with you, it moves with you, miraculous.
Sunday, 7 November 2010
On the balcony, right at one end, you can see all the sky skrapers melting into the bright light.
Look the other way and it's mountains.
Coffee, oatmeal and waffles.
No more shop job.
Listening to Gregory & The Hawk http://www.myspace.com/gregoryandthehawk
Laundry, I have $2.50 in a pile.
David Chelsea in Love, by David Chelsea.
Free coffee later.
A month today until my flight to London.
Friday, 22 October 2010
Once in the changing room she pulled on her costume, it felt tight against her body and she stretched to ease it out, wondering if it had always been that tight. As the latex of her swimming cap settled on her forehead and her goggles on top of that, the lenses two points focusing the energy within her, she began to let all the thoughts racing through her mind slowly lift away.
She gripped her toes over the concrete bumps framing the water and released her body forwards, fingers first. The water hit her chest and she held her breath, kicking hard. Her calves hurt, a deep throbbing pain ran through them. With each stroke she tried to pull deeper, run her cupped hand straight down past her torso and out at her hip, each time faster, each time stronger.
She picked up the pace and by the time she hit the 5m marker, was ready to count, one, two, three strokes before rolling her whole body over and securely pushing both feet, it had to be both feet, against the white tiles. Bubbles flew out of her nose, she was suddenly acutely aware of every muscle in her body. I make the water move around me, I can hold my breath until my lungs ache, I can keep this going as long as I like, she thought.
She rolled onto her back and started counting the panels on the ceiling, only aware of water, breath, colour and shape. And this was the way she liked it.
Sunday, 17 October 2010
Monday, 27 September 2010
The second one was the lottery ticket, a free pass found in the comic store on Granville street, hmmm should I risk losing two hours of my time watching a film I have heard nothing about? The flyer was a really bad printed image of a red fish and the film itself was named "Catfish". I checked out the trailor as a precaution, it simply gave an intro of it being another "Facebook movie" and tells you creepily that "the last 40 minutes of the film will take you on an emotional rollar-coaster ride that you won't be able to shake for days". This convinced me it was going to be gruesome...It's basically a really well edited documentary about a woman who in an attempt to brighten up her increasingly mundane life and make up for life choices that limited her creativity, creates layer upon layer of fake people and their lives on Facebook. The lead up is well done and the conversations genuinely funny.
If you had to see one, see "Catfish" just because it's more original. But both have hot brunette eye candy in the form of Nev Schulman and Mark Ruffalo. Just saying.
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
Almost every morning as I stand inside my glass walled shop counting the cash into the till, I look up to see a tall, tattoo covered man walking two little pug dogs along the street. It's become part of my morning ritual, and if I don't see them I actually get worried! Maybe I should introduce myself and offer the dogs some water from our shop's dog bowl?
Anyway, it's not just this guy who owns pugs, the whole of North America seems obsessed with them. On a short trip to Seattle I spotted maybe 30 pugs, no joke! They are so funny and small and their little beady eyes have started to grow on me. I don't like small dogs as a rule, but these little creatures have found a place in my heart. I can imagine they would have high pitched squeaky voices if they could talk to me...
Sunday, 12 September 2010
Wednesday, 8 September 2010
Sunday, 5 September 2010
A friend suggested I take part in this- http://www.arthousecoop.com/projects/sketchbookproject
I got my small brown sketchbook through in the post the other day. God knows what I'm going to do, I haven't drawn anything in about a year. I hope inspiration comes.
Sunday, 29 August 2010
These lists have been flowing out of me on to scraps of paper, notebooks and white-boards since I was old enough to get home-work. And at one point in my life I could not sleep before checking through my list for the following day. Sometimes I would even write down things after I have done them just so I can cross them off...
Anyway, since moving to Vancouver something wierd has happened. I have stopped writing the lists. I'm not going to go into why I think I've stopped writing lists quite so obssessively. Instead I am going to write things down here instead. Maybe there'll be some lists. But there will also be thoughts I have that seem important, and notes on my exploration of Vancouver. Watch this space...