the purring, stirring nighttime

Dressed like a black cat, ready to pounce on a neighborhood costume party. Drinking sweetened whiskey and dancing around the house while Otis Redding croons to both me and Mooz, who has inspired me in more ways than just this getup.

Montreal is filling up with that wintry air. I didn't wake in time for the ice-slicked streets, only the softened mud mess which followed. Still some flakes fell, and iced over puddles called to my toes for cracking. Watched a little black bag dance awhile in the breezes. Found a spring in my step, and some butterflies stuck inside my rib cage. Setting them free inside this cozy apartment, with every sip and sway. Foggy windows, rosy cheeks, cat's meow/pajamas, etc.

Mmmhmm.

A thought to hold onto.

Approaching every being that I encounter as a burning ball of light and energy. Trying not to think with my eyes, but rather to open up my mind and heart and allow the light to bathe me. And then feel how I feel, and try to feel how you feel. And ask questions, and build up ideas, and share feelings and histories, and imagine possible futures. Realize that nothing is the same, never the same thing twice. Uniqueness, how steadfast that basic thing. Feeling the wonderment and awe of all those things. Getting kicks, in all manners, with all people. Because I'm not sure what else there is.

cumulus thoughts blown about by cold gusts

Wiener dog comes around the corner, busily sniffing. No leash, no owner in sight. Then giant golden retriever, then husky puppy with the biggest clear-blue eyes.

Man bikes by with a tuba in his backpack.

School bus full of Jewish children, heads shaved except for exquisite fringe curls. All eyes looking out the right windows as the bus makes a tight-squeeze turn onto a one-way street.

Just noticing that leaf-crunch and then caught the smell- I have been missing the peak of days where the leaves, warmed by the high sun's rays are projecting that scent that just fills me up. Through the nostrils straight to the stomach, and I could choke on it for how filling it can be all at once.

Feeling some nothingness sneak up on me, and though I've been anticipating it, it still has come as a surprise somehow. I am getting acquainted with readjustment, and all that strangeness that accompanies so much change.

Remembering again, a plethora of old thoughts that still kick and claw at me.
How restlessness can lead to recklessness. Lying in the dark curled up, you tapping out the rhythm of Born to Run on my thigh. Falling asleep to Court and Spark, hearing everything like it were new to me. Dreamed about you like I didn't know you, felt like a stranger in the morning- strange light shining on a strange bed.
Plucked a petal from a poppy, wanted to hold on to such a soft and pretty thing. Only found it withered up in my pocket later, unrecognizable.
Thinking about birds sitting atop of strange things. "Smiling strangers riding by on bikes".
Remembered a dead sea gull, ivory belly bloated, tucked into the curb of Sykes St., eyes closed.
"I am a thorn among a bunch of roses", said the old man as he squeezed through our little group as we stood in the lobby of the Peller Estates winery. Maggie rolls her eyes, and then immediately wonders about being gracious, or just accepting the words that people sometimes offer. I wonder the same. Why am I so doubtful? I am so distrustful of everyone sometimes. Sometimes I think that I would only believe the worst in you, never just allow you to be your best self because I would find a way to dissect it, find a hole and pull it open wider. That's awful, and I'm sorry.
I wonder about everything but never seem to endeavor to get to the bottom of anything. Can never be sure what is missing, but something is. I can't blame demons for my attitude, but sometimes I like to.
Feel so useless. More like directionless, you offer. Maybe both. Need to find out in which direction I can put myself to use.
Today is a whole day in itself. Not a stepping stone to some day ahead, not one thing only, but everything all of the time. A day is an amazing thing. Thinking about a good day, a full day, and all the ways in which a day can be filled. Now how can I let a day sit empty, never put it to real use? A day can be filled to the brim! I have been sitting through too many days lately.
Need to spend more time treasuring and cherishing. A treasure box full of old things which tend to mean a lot. Ripe cucumber, pulling little carrots from the garden. Margarine container full of backyard black currants, red currants. Tea and crickets and dew and desire and adventure and longing and leaving and coming home. Someone please stay awake with me!

But my scatterbrain scatters it all again, and I am just here. 8pm coffee, 'Blue', a purring Mooz, warm lamplight, promise of good company and cheap wine. Sorting everything out.
I am thankful, I am! There is so much that I have and I love and I know this. I am going to practice graciousness. Thank the universe for everything, every thing, everything.

fall ravel

Oh September, you came and you left.
It's the first day of October. The kind of fall that is rich and full, rusty leaf-hues, crunchy on the ground, air-born in the breezes. Like a flick of a light-switch, that change from summer. I almost forgot about fall, but now I feel a bit bombarded by the way it so fully asserts itself.
I am moving on Sunday morning to a brand new place, somewhere that I have been thinking about for a long time. As much as I let my mind wander around the potential of what's going to happen, I feel pretty sure that I don't know and can't know until I arrive. So I just feel this little tangle in my belly, that twists and pulls tighter when I move certain ways. I think if I make myself productive and just keep looking at what is still here, then surely I will soon be over there and then there will be no more wondering, just plain being. And I am so excited for that just being, taking myself off this trajectory. Like putting on a blindfold and spinning before taking a step. I don't think it actually matters in which direction I step, I want to let my feelings prompt me and see where that leads me.
If you have a wandering mind that wonders too, and you roll around potential futures, then maybe we can manifest some thought, share a cup of tea in a sunny living room, maybe it will be winter then, another switch gone through?
There is so much that I was to ravel/unravel. So much that I want to write down and turn into something tangible. So many images in my head that I want to see painted, made into the kind of colours you can look at twice.

haiku you

maybe in the morning

you and mooz are both
crochety and cantankerous
old man, old girl cat

how it is

this is how it is
if this is how it is, then
I don't know nothin'

a whack of lightyears

distance to the moon
let us sit in this much space
keep our bodies close

earlier today...

seagulls fly in vees
got no sense of direction
just flying that way

all of this has come in through the window

(Driving home in the dark I saw a blowing piece of garbage, moving like a cat's tail across the dark highway. In the split second that it was a cat, my whole body tingled and jolted. It was just a piece of garbage, and so I relaxed and that was it. But it was a reminder of the power of my mind over my body. And my body tricks my mind too, and it goes both ways I guess.)

Thinking things through:

Steps through tall grass and brush, bending trees away, travelling into a different state where the welcomed rain soaks us like submergence. The air turns sideways and sweeps us up into the foggish clouds- thunder claps on our ears, drawing our shoulders together and the air quickly into our lungs.
The river there is warm to our already wet selves, first trudging then finding the spot just deep enough to float on my back (my new summer dress floating all around me), rain drops on my face, and the reverberating thunder all in my underwater ears.
Earlier,
my fortune told in the glowstick tent: I paid you five times my fare and you told me my partial fate- that I can never go back, that things are never going to be the same as I thought they would. I didn't think you knew who I was talking about (and now I don't know who I was talking about), but you said it didn't matter who, it was still the same thing. Then you blessed me with gold glitter- which was still caked to my scalp the next sunny/foggy morning.
And then,
seeing you, briefly like the first time but you hugged me so nicely and tightly, and I was sizing up your friend, imagining all possible futures like I always do, and wishing I'd never brought the other along- but then again feeling good too, sort of boundless and encouraged in proper directions because it's away from the way that one's heading, and maybe it has to take all of that to figure these things out.
Still,
finding stray flecks of gold glitter, days later and in unlikely places. Each fleck reminding me of something else she'd said, or just sparking some memory of that great open space and all the places I just inhabited, briefly and more lasting.
Later,
sitting awake all night with you, letting you guide me through my thought clouds manifested, and cancelling my apologies (for the way I'm thinking, why do I even think that way, that things must be different than I think). You settle me and help me to unravel myself.
Now,
can't figure out my feelings about you exactly, but feeling this budding thing inside me that is being watered and shone on. I think that roots have been growing in there for a long while maybe, never knew what they were up to, still don't know what this thing will turn into, but feeling open minded and hearted. Learning to just be what I am and open up all of the doors and windows so that good things can come inside to visit and/or stay.

And a new "to do": think, write, read, paint, share, sew, clean, drink, talk, remember, stretch, sleep, dream, wake up, think.

goose congregation

...would be the name of my band if I had one. Anyone want to start a band with me?