ideophrenia

There I was basking on the roof my brain in pain from a recent self flaggelation exercise, I had applied for a futile position with the organization that employs me, and it was killing me. Just then Joulene sent me the FEEL SO DIFFERENT link to Sinead. I looked up and lo and behold, the rainbow in the middle of the sky was smiling upon me, the Goddess, the God’s Head, o Antlered One Thank Thee.

Hello

It happened again, down in Kits Pointe, Vancouver…I was swimming in the ocean today on this hot day in August of the end of Summer, the breeze mellow and balmy, myself relaxed on my back staring up into the sky, wonderous and happy to be alive. I stood up to go, walking slowly through the mild water, admiring the glint of the sunshine on the rock bits, the fabulous horizon…I turned around and lo and behold, there he was. Not four feet away was the Seal King in all of his doggy faced glory. He looked right at me, a look of companionability, of happy swimmingness, he was so handsome. His eyes are so big. His whiskers so lovely.

I called to him and spoke to him and caressed him with compliments for at least four minutes. He met my curious gaze with calm indifference, and he did say he’d be back very soon with more of his friends…

While riding horses competitively as a preteenager in rural Quebec I was often critisized for the colour of my horses’ fur coat. I had what is commonly referred to as a “Pinto” in the Western horse lexicon, or a “Pie Bald” in the English.

My horse’s name was “Apache", named after the North American First Nation - the Apachean peoples who formerly ranged over eastern and southern USA. He was a big strong brave horse that I loved very much. He could jump anything and loved to gallop.

Often I would place very high in the junior and middle level competitions around the Province. These were english riding classes over fences that judged a horses and rider on their style and form as they jumped over ‘hunter’ fences, rustic and countryside style, lower jumps than commonly seen on the grand prix style competitions on television.

So, Apache brought me to the finish line with a clear round, and I would be placed first in the line up. We would be called into the ring for the final once over by the judge, ostensibly to check our accoutrements, our riding clothes had to be correct, the tack or gear we used must be industry standard, all checks and balances performed for safety and continuity complete.

Then, the word would come down from the judges stand that I did not qualify for first place, or anywhere in the winner’s line up, because I had to have points taken off due to the fact that my horses’ coat was spotted - that he was considered an “Indian Horse” as opposed to a “good old english hunter” variety, which of course had to be black, or brown, or some other dull colour.

When I questioned the authorities I was shut down with no explanation, and I didn’t get my ribbon. Needless to say, Apache didn’t really mind, as long as he got his molasses covered carrot sticks.

I’m uttered

the complete absence of it all a
ritualized awareness in
course completed
madness

stretching backwards
effervescent
tortured on the

(beewidden)

What happens when a ratfaced stinker causes accidental dronage to rally away in the outer echelons of first rate typography? My demographical essence is rendered beauteous through her process. When I first spritely limbed dropped in on her it was a blessing. Random emotives induced through labour saving tactics of supremecy and uttered logic.

Are you everything inside that monster suit of yours
does your mother still bleed for your ratified emotion?
sending sutures of still born energy
tapwards
outside of your head.

- poem written by TTwinkletoes in a moment of random bloodletting/squeezing out some soul

We decided to take a quick turn downtown on December 24th Eve Day, just to see if we couldn’t pick up that vintage costume tiara for Susi’s long red hair. The jeep was solid as we ricocheted off the spirit, bouncing around with a love for the socialness of this Season.

As we exited the parkade at Seymour and Richards Street in downtown Vancouver, I must have slipped my hand through the seatbelt somehow, and pullied the remaining straps through to my lap! So there I was, shimmied in douces, the way an ostrich plays when faced with a dying gunshot sound…my wallet was GONE, out the door, down the hatch, return to sender, do not pass go, all in one sentence of woe.

Of course, we backtracked, and went all over the place, looking hi and lo, on foot, in the truck, commandeering passers by to help, with no luck at all. We returned home, and back to our normal lives. I tried to shrug it off, telling myself I was lucky there was no cash involved.

Later that night, back from dinner with the Delicious FreemanWhites in East Vancouver soon to be South Vancouver, I receive an email in my basket, it saying simply “I have your purse” - Jack. I thought how kind, this man has immediately found my website on my business card from within the wallet and isn’t this great.

I replied and he back at me, and I quickly realized that Jack is a friend of mine - someone I know from a club! How sweet and wonderful!

When I met up with Jack he reported that he was crossing the said streets around noon on that day and he spotted the wallet, smack dab in the middle of Richards Street. He picked it up and opened it up to find identification, and saw my name!

What are the chances of that???

Serendipity with a window of about four minutes!

You know I had the most wonderful experience at work the other day. I think it was a Monday, traditionally a blah day in a government office…people are determined to get through their quota of allotted work for the week, however, the traditional weekend seems so far away that there is a certain glumness in the air. The mere contemplation of such a terribly long time to wait driving us batty…as we wait into eternity towards our well deserved rest period…the one that is crammed full of life affirmations, that will eventually come up in four whole days.

We know we will get there soon enough, but the amount of work needed to be done before that time seems mountainous and virtually impossible, our mental and physical prospects stretching out before us in our active imaginations with the willingness of an unwanted metaphor…an encumbered elephant on a tightrop…or in other words; very, very difficult to contemplate.

So there we all are, us public servants, working diligently away in our cubicles, most of us surrounded by the accoutrements of our working daze…laptop or work station, a few treasured photos, maybe some memorabilia, office birthday cards, and the usual garble of pens, staplers, clips, trays and paper paper paper…some of it neatly piled away in brightly coloured file folders, others lying randomly on desk tops, dog-earred edges and a certain smeared order - the usual embarassing disarray.

Suddenly, CBC FM is playing a beautiful version of “Girl from Epanema” by Stan Getz, possibly my favourite jazz musician…and I inappropriately turn up the volume to full blast. Remember, this is a quiet public office in the middle of a regular Monday afternoon; staid, solemn, somber.

The cascading notes fill my cubicle with joy, each resounding echo of the deep wonderful and lusty lyrics turning me softly outwards, my energy overflowing with a love that comes for the human race…how could we produce such glory…and be so connected to the Spirit…

I am in my enjoyment, my mind bending over matter with pleasure and satisfaction…then a distraction…I look up and I see the others, the other humans in the cubicles beside and around me, they are bopping, they are moving, they are positively grooving to the music. Everyone has that look on their face, the look of “wow I know this and I love this…this is a familiar beauteous feeling and I am really enjoying this moment of sanity, this sudden interlude of almost occult enjoyment, mellow and unexpected in my day, during my trudge to happy destiny…

Hi there

My show is about to be hung. If you have bought a peice or are just interested, and want to know what the english translation from the Latin is, here is the info:

1. in vita esse : to be alive
2. causa fiendi : cause of becoming
3. labres solis : an eclipse of the sun
4. fide et fiducia : by faith and confidence
5. stat pro ratione voluntas : goodwill stands for reason
6. nihil non : everything
7. tacent satis laudant : their silence is praise enough
8. aude sapere : dare to be wise
9. armat spinat rosas : the thorn arms the rose
10. at spes non fracta : but hope is not broken

Thanks

Check out the SWARM08 website.
Please come to my opening, and if you are interested in any of the pieces call me on 1+604.879.7179

Susi Milne is having a Show, an Exhibition of her New Photographic Work on September 6, 2007 at the grunt/MainSpace 350 East 2nd Avenue, Vancouver @ 7pm. Please come!!!

Stay tuned for more details!

The first one a miniature succulent in blow up, placing inside the “Galactica” main flower by the goddess, the succulent strips throughout the piece and the serendipidous curiosity that they fall into place just so!

And just now, deciding to use the Latin for the Illiterati instead, its such a helpful resource.

Ian McEwan for the first exquisite prose of wonder time.

The subtle, casual to world shattering poetry and music, for me, the quintessential wannabee of european upper crust cultural finesse in my life, my penthouse in the sky, the deep quilted forests and shining abstract sea upon my horizon.

Those black kitty cats, their sleek coats rising from utter splendid love and

Foodstuffs so replete with orgiastic joy of culinary ease and organic perfection

my love my life my gratitude

As we languish in extreme gratitude for this wonderful and beautiful home we have here among the clouds on Canada’s north west coast watching Flying Eagles, Haliaeetus leucocephalus, and loving life.

Daryl has made the most beautiful tasting smelling being BAKED BEANS from scratch, from the dry Capers Market pinto beans that swell up over the night every so gorgeously, then the morning ritual of preparing the sauce. And what a sauce it is. Dry Yellow Mustard, Organic Quebecoix Maple Syrup, Organic Southern USA Molasses, Capers Homemade BBQ sauce with its fresh ingredients, made yester-morning with an expiry date of next week…oh la la giant largish organically grown on a local farm yellow onions, tons of organic garlic…

Hello

The tides have turned.
Our house is upside up.

The serendipity of allsaints celebrations comes up
Happy upon us.

We have now been granted the Life
the Life Style
the Life in Heaven
the Life in Perfect Lovely Harmony

the ceremonious transgressional elasticity of loving
and working and trying so hard
so lovingingly workingly aware of

it all

some little or small values that
have just grown gigantic.

We Blessed Be
and Give Thanks

I am so grateful for all the wonderful humans circling around me and walking with me through this epitome of land space time reality

Its Time Based

and I’m loving it…

She reels in towards
Me and my

Oh Thank You.

Oh what a lovely holiday we’re having. Feasting and laughing and sharing wonderful times with friends and family. The Akins have all expanded and I now have some beautiful Sisters in Law. How Lucky I feel! Thank you Bonnie and Alyshia for making the twenty fifth feast such a lovely occasion!

Thank you to Daryl for cooking the beautiful Turkey, brined organic bird from the mountains, complete with a card that described the berries it ate…and the stuffing! Oh sausage and sage and cranberries and bread and imported chestnuts from France!

Oh the Potatoes! Mashed organic yukon golds with Boursin Cheese and marinated sauteed leeks! Yummy Yummy!!!

Our Beautiful Tabby Cat Colt has passed to the next place. He is greatly mourned by the two Female Black Bombay Cats Tibbelina Twinkletoes and Elizabeth George-Anne.

Daryl and I were greatly honoured to have a spiritual passing ceremony performed by one Dr. Bhatia, of Cypress Street Animal Hospital. He was gentle and clear with us, and had some wonderful words to say.

Thank you to those fine people.

Bless You Colt. Thank you for sharing your Life with us.

Poor old Colt the Cat. He’s a sixteen year old Tabby that is certainly suffering the traumas of old age, he is so sweet and kind and loving, but he’s also unbalanced on his little feets and very needy. His teeth are in pretty bad shape and they don’t make kitty dentures so I have to feed him soft food three times a day. When I feed him the soft food Elizabeth George Anne, her royal highness the eight year old Black Bombay Queen tries to get in there and eat it. She considers it a delicacy.

So, I’ve had to sit down with her and have a serious talk. “Elizabeth,” I say, “do you realize that poor old Colty is hungry and the only food he can eat is this special food that must be fed to him three times a day? Don’t you know that he will slowly starve to death if he can’t get to his food, you mustn’t eat it Darling!”

But Elizabeth has now told me that she is a Darwinian Cat. She believes in Survival of the Fittest. Its really awful. What do I do now?

Please advise.

I’m working with great people on joint issues around a critical social need. Excellent Patient Care. Its very hard work and incredibly enjoyable. My favourite activity is designing the algorithms that spell out the assigned environments within the beaurocratic administrative infrastructure.

Remind me to tell you one day about waking up during the total hip replacement surgery and experiencing the blue coloured plastic around me in the vitally warm bloody environment, I could feel it, smell it, almost see it, the cut opening my leg, the clamps, the drains, and then the slow realization that that violent cracking noise was the Medical Team working on my hip, forcing the metal pin down into the live bone…

Horrifying but successful!