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The 11th hour…

February 11, 2010

Healing is a slow process…

Steve Yzerman on Team Canada’s walking wounded…


when I find myself in a wormhole,

I want to let my fingers do the walking on my super old cell phone and call Eckhart Tolle,

because I don’t know how else to reach him…

I want to ask him some of my big questions like,

Mein freund,

Vat are you zinking about???

But he might find that confrontational,

or inappropriate…

The other more serious,

heart of darkness questions I’d pose to him are:

Where exactly is NOW???


How would you suggest that I stay there???

I’m not so sure that Eckhart’s NOW,

and mine,

are in the same core sampling of time…

Or that,

despite the theory of a dead man,

we are of seminal work…

On the other hand,

that Übermensch Jeff Paterson and I,

are so on the same page when it comes to Alex Burrows,

that I’ve sent him a message to get the H.E. double hockey sticks out of my head,

or I’ll charge him with trespassing…

And more importantly I’ve sent an invisible memo to Steve Yzerman,

with a suggestion that he rectify the Ex-lax move of not putting Number 14 on stand-by,

for Team Canada,


before someone loses an eye,

or a firm grip on reality…

I don’t give a rat’s ass what anyone has to say about whining,

and being a Mama’s boy…

It takes one to know one,

and I anticipated that after Burrows dropped some well-deserved mustard gas on NHL officiating,

he would stay quiet and buckle down to business…

As Paterson concurred in last week’s Georgia Straight,

Alex did exactly that,

with the unbridled enthusiasm,

and honour,

of a truthful hockey player,

who sometimes gets confused about whether he’s on an ice rink,

or at the edge of a swimming pool…

Believe me,

I’ve been there…


Tiny bubbles in the wine...


While Alex has been working with his team,

I’ve been working with mine on some multi-dimensional house cleaning….

Last Fall some adult and infant bones were discovered in the dirt,

under a thick cement foundation,

during a house renovation across the street,

in preparation for a high-stakes olympic rental…

After reading The Man Game I’m getting more specifics about what really went down in this city’s whitewashed history,

and what the cracks and flashing lights in my house are requesting…

Making Spirit bright,

and reuniting lost souls,

is going to take a lot more than some dancing in the streets…

We’ll all need to go coyote and make this a cooperative effort,

by feeling everything…

Bearing witness to all of the forgotten stories who are sitting at the banks of the underground streams,

and in the bedrock from Surrey to Whistler…

Characters seeping up through storm drains,

and into Skytrains…

They’ll tell you exactly what you need to do if you’re willing to listen,

with the careful whispers of a good friend…

I’d like to see Yzerman pulling strings,

so that we can see one corner of our Bermuda Triangle make mincemeat out of Sweden on home ice,

and ensure that C.T.V. cameras aren’t panning for Fool’s Gold on the day of the closing ceremonies…

By applying our second brains to the project,

we may be able to get some gentle,


over-night relief without moving a muscle…

You know what they say about the size of a man’s Harvard education…

It isn’t what he knows,

it’s what he does with it…

And in flamenco,

when a man is all about a loud fast desplante,

it’s enough already…

You just want him off the stage,

to make way for a performer who knows how to use his first mouth with real duende…

At the end of February,

visitors to Vancouver will be leaving with more than five rings worth of souvenirs in their luggage…

They’ll be returning with memories that will slip right through homeland security,

washed with germs of yesterday,


and tomorrow…


And you steal right under my door...


2 Comments leave one →
  1. February 11, 2010 4:33 pm

    I’ve been reading along for a while now. I just wanted to drop you a comment to say keep up the good work.

    • philosophydoll permalink
      February 11, 2010 5:53 pm


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