Bearded lady…
The movement says:
I am swimming away from you,
hurry up and follow me!!!
At the same time,
the fish swims neither fast nor far,
and turns back immediately towards the female,
who is following but timidly and shyly in his wake…
In this way the female is enticed under the bubble nest,
and now follows the wonderful love-play which resembles,
in delicate grace,
a minuet,
but in general style the trance of a Balinese temple dancer…
In this love dance,
by age-old law,
the male must always exhibit his magnificent broadside to his partner,
but the female must remain constantly at right angles to him…
The male must never obtain so much as a glimpse of her flanks,
otherwise he will immediately become angry and unchivalrous;
for standing broadside means,
in these fishes as in many others,
aggressive masculinity and elicits instantaneously in every male,
a complete change of mood…
— in King Solomon’s Ring by Konrad Z. Lorenz
When I was a little girl I was sure that the equator was a belt that one could see if one got close enough to it…
A belt like a lap pool of crystal blue water in which you could swim your way clear around the planet…
When I was twenty-two I was determined to prove my hypothesis and travelled as close as I could,
to find and see this belt…
My re-search took me to the town of Bukittinggi…
I stayed there for ten days in the home of a newly married couple…
The husband always wondered why I didn’t go out drinking in the evening,
with the other back-packers…
He offered to escort me there and back for safety,
if that was the issue…
I told him that I wasn’t interested…
I’d already been there and done that,
and I’d left home for the intents and purposes of more unusual adventure…
So he took matters into his own hands and introduced me to a local man in town who took travelers along on traditional Minangkabau male sporting rituals…
At first the local man told me that I couldn’t come along,
because I was a woman,
and it just wasn’t done…
I gently insisted he find a way,
because although the idea of it scared the living daylights out of me,
I wanted that notch of wild boar hunting,
on my belt…
He found a way by bringing along the Dutch wife of one of his hunting buddies…
She told me that as a converted muslim woman she would never have had this experience if I hadn’t been there…
I was given the lead of the head dog,
and found the thrill of the hunt in those palm plantations,
a step back in time…
In that same week I met a young muslim woman at a martabak stand…
She invited me to her village to meet her mother…
After our visit together I asked her if she wanted to go to a bull fight with me…
She said,
Only men get to do that…
I said,
Then we’re going for sure…
On our way back to town,
down that high hill,
with all of those Minangkabau men,
she said to me,
I’ve never done this before…
And I wouldn’t have been able to without you…
Thank you for asking me…
It was so much fun…
On my way overland to the east coast of Sumatra,
where I was to catch a boat to Singapore,
I stayed in a guest house in Pekanbaru…
Sade and Pink Floyd were in steady play on my Walkman…
Over dinner I got to talking with two encyclopedia salesmen from Java…
They invited me to an outdoor theatre to see a movie…
They seemed harmless enough,
and I’d survived a wild boar hunt,
so seeing as the cards were in my favour,
I accepted the invitation…
There are only a few things more uncomfortable than sitting in a theatre full of muslim men,
as a young western woman,
watching a Hollywood B-movie…
I had to tell the salesmen that woman in my country aren’t anything like what they saw on that screen…
But times have changed a lot since the 1980’s…
Sexually aggressive women are now de rigueur in mainstream culture,
Setting a mean standard,
in the name of a liberation that is way off the scales…
You and I have memories longer than the road which stretches out of here...
Fire works…
Jeremiah looked at the enormous plate piled high with tarts,
each one a little cup of golden pastry with glorious crisp and curly edges,
full to the brim with strawberry jam all dark and delicious from the baking…
The dinosaur looked at the tarts also,
and he said,
“Those are the finest tarts that I have ever seen in my life, ma’am…”
“But what about the good old days???”Jeremiah said…
“Didn’t they have better tarts then???”
“Not at all,”
said the dinosaur,
“Those were the bad old days,
in my opinion,
as far as tarts were concerned…”
Jeremiah and his grandma sat down on the front step,
the dinosaur stretched himself out on the ground,
and together they began to eat the tarts…
— in Jeremiah in the Dark Woods by Janet and Allen Ahlberg
Little Gem is finally sleeping in her own bed on a regular basis,
at seven years old…
But sometimes she still crawls into mine because of spider bites,
or after waking from a scary dream with a pounding heart…
Last night I woke up every hour on the hour in a cold sweat,
with a stiff neck…
My dreams weren’t so frightening so I couldn’t figure out where all of the anxiety was coming from…
But I had some indication from the day before,
when Little Gem and Starshine were packing for their two week vacation to Montreal and Quebec City…
We’d been preparing for the departure for a few days…
It felt like every hour on the hour they said that even though they were excited to go,
they were going to miss me so much,
and could I please make a pillow for each of them out of some old clothes that I didn’t want to wear any more…
I never got around to that,
but the impending anticipation of separation reminded me of so many others…
I remember a friend once saying to me that I always hung up the phone abruptly at the end of our long distance conversations…
Leaving her wanting,
and dis-connected…
When I told her about having to leave,
or hand over a newborn baby,
and a screaming three year old,
to just close the door and walk away,
day after day,
in the name of rights,
and what’s best for the children,
she seemed to feel a little bit of my experience,
as I told my story…
And even though she hadn’t walked a day in my shoes,
I saw the tears of a simple understanding,
welling up in her eyes…
After Little Gem and Starshine were picked up by their Papa yesterday around suppertime,
I was invited for a glass of wine a few doors down with some well-known neighbours…
At first I declined,
but I couldn’t yet bear to go back into my empty house,
so I accepted…
And while we were sitting there talking about mean girls,
and how the apple doesn’t fall that far from the tree,
a car pulled up in front our houses…
A man got out of the driver seat,
and as he walked to my door,
I recognized him,
and was flooded with fear,
and panic…
In a way that is very uncharacteristic of the old me,
I hid under my hat…
There really wasn’t any other option as I refused to bypass my feelings…
My neighbours couldn’t figure out what the problem was,
or why I felt what I did…
And I didn’t know either…
All I knew was that I couldn’t move,
or breathe,
and my guts were tied in a knot…
But this was different from the last time I saw him,
and his partner,
nearly five years ago at a hootenanny…
That time in particular I went out of body,
and watched myself,
and the unfolding scene,
from the rafters of the Ukrainian Hall…
We think we know everything,
with our credentials…
But most of us barely scratch the surface of our complex energetic fields,
and human histories…
After getting no response from his knocking on my door,
the man got back in the car with his partner and drove away…
I still don’t know what they came for,
after all of this time has passed…
Except for that’s what they’ve always done…
Dropping in from out of nowhere…
Only I was wishing it was someone else…
Someone who has a common sense of respect,
patience,
and sensitivity…
I asked my neighbour what she could feel,
from the situation,
and my body…
She said,
It feels like an elastic band that’s been pulled taut,
as far as it can go…
We each have our own words to describe our own experiences…
Much of it gets dismissed by the head,
and people who call themselves scientists,
doctors,
and lawyers…
I have a re-occuring dream that I am trying to catch heads on puppet bodies…
Sometimes the face of the head looks like Gordon Campbell,
or his buddy Stephen Harper…
Other times the head is that of a woman,
super coiffured and made-up,
for teaching Kindergarten…
The kind of woman that pretends to love children,
but behind the mask it’s clear that she hates them,
what they stand for,
and every breath they take…
In the dreams I’m desperate to get a hold of the heads before they take power…
As I’m screaming,
Stay away from the children!!!!!
I’m pounding the heads with my fist…
Like I’m trying to crack them wide open,
by tenderizing grey matter into schnitzel…
It doesn’t feel good when it’s happening,
and it’s pretty Stephen King…
But there really is no easy way around it,
the heads have to be stopped…
Usually when I’m having these dreams,
random people in my waking life find way to tell me to be brave,
and that I should be proud of myself for all the work that I’ve done to lead with my heart…
They tell me to have courage,
and not to give up…
The other day I was covering Starshine’s arms and shoulders with sunscreen,
down at the river…
I told her how much I love her white blond hair on her tanned skin…
She said,
unsure of herself,
with her big blue eyes,
Sometimes I feel like I look albino…
On the way home,
from the river,
over all of those speed bumps that insist on your slowing down,
I heard a Canadian musician sing about a white horse…
A white horse who always gave so much more,
than he took…
Learning from each others knowing... (photo: Starshine of True Blue)
Kitty corner…
I was pushing a wheelbarrow…
Then I saw a little sparrow…
I caught it…
I picked it up…
I put it in a cage…
I was looking at my pets…
Then I saw them look at me…
I sat a while…
I thought a while…
And then…
I set them free…
— in I Was Walking Down the Road by Sarah E. Barchas
Who needs GD Shaw Cable when you can live in my neighbourhood…
Early Saturday morning I was awakened by the sound of a GD Honda motorcycle dying in front of my house…
And instead of Mr. Hipster rolling his bike down the alley from whence he came he decided to start’er up and tune the engine right then and there…
I didn’t lose my mind but I felt Bill next door having an aneurysm,
along with all of the other neighbours around the whole city block…
This knowledge was just confirmed by the gathering of people across the street,
discussing the new addition to the fleet of motorcycles that sounds like a World War II jet engine on reconnaissance missions at all hours of the night,
and plans to lodge a nuisance report with the po-lice…
I just want to get inside the fellow’s head,
and figure out how someone can be so blatantly unaware that he is living in a world with other people…
And now I know where he lives…
In that Vancouver Special with two yappy dogs,
a front yard fire pit,
and an Airstream trailer out back…
There is no lack of subject for philosophical research,
and no need to attend university to write about them…
After the motorcycle roared back to life and cruised the circumference of the block one more time before going home,
I kept my eyes on my outdoor HD screen…
Shorty thereafter five drunk twenty-somethings stumbled down the street into a house diagonally across from me,
but not without one of the young men pausing to urinate in the middle of the alley…
He had the courtesy to turn his back as he hosed the asphalt with beer piss,
but then turned in my general direction to belt up his jeans,
and wipe his hands on the side of his t-shirt…
By the time I was his age I was already responsible,
for the growth and development,
of other people’s children’s,
and owned my own house…
This made me wonder what the world,
was coming to,
and then remember,
that we each have our own path to walk,
in our own ways,
nobody’s perfect,
and I’d had to pee in an alley off of Granville Street,
on account of ingesting,
too many gin and tonics,
in my mid thirties,
so who in God’s name am I to judge…
I watched a taxi arrive and Mr. Pister announce to the universe that it was a quarter to six in the morning…
I silently thanked him for telling me what I couldn’t already tell by the light of the day…
Last midnight I was awoken from a deep slumber by an anxious conversation on my front porch,
and the sound of La Bamba being played by a wedding band blasting out the doors of the Ukrainian Hall…
I heard a male voice right under my bedroom window talking about how he’d better propose right away before she went off to school and was swept off her feet by an undergrad…
The other male voice told him he better get on it and get that ring on her finger,
and then walked away…
I heard Panic get on the phone,
and pace the sidewalk with his predicament…
I stuck my head out the door and asked Buddy,
to move his conversation along,
as the volume was keeping me up…
I thought of asking for the girl’s number,
to warn of the energy of possession,
clinging,
and fear of betrayal,
but I suspect she already knew…
Impulse is intuition on crack,
Crack+marriage=recipefordisaster…
I pulled on my skirt and my Italian wedgies and walked up the sidewalk to see dilemma and cell phone in communion against the post box up the block which I continued to hear all the way into my house…
Communion clouded in worry…
I wanted to sing out,
When the soul wants,
the soul waits,
but the storm was full blown,
and I had dreaming to do…
So I marched myself back home,
crawled under the covers,
and got it done…
Canuck'd 