behindtheax: April 2005

the sun is now out , so I removed that post

I fretted all day long about that last post until I had to delete it. This has been such a wishy washy day for me.

dreary

It is still cold and dreary. I told myself I’d do gardening anyway. At least overturn the soil where the vegetables go. Well, by mid summer it becomes a mixture of flower and vegetable. Cosmos and these orange flowers (I don’t know the name) start to sprout between the rows and I kind of let them as long as they don’t block the sun from my tomatoes. I am not saying there is any order to things back there. I love growing tomatoes. They are so easy and just a few plants yield so many. Lettuce just grows to fast for me, seems like if I turn my back for a minute, it flowers. Well maybe more than a minute. I started some green peppers from seed in little jiffy pots a few weeks ago and they are coming up. I bought a rose bush that I will plant in my flower garden in memory of my sister. A few years back she was living in this beautiful old farmhouse that sat in a field of hay and all along the border of this property there were wild rose bushes. That smell was so wonderful, so New Brunswick for me and one night- me and her and another sister were sitting out behind her house, having a few drinks, looking up into this night sky, listening to the frogs and this jealousy washed over me that my sister was able to have this - all the time, while I was stuck in a place where the night sky never offered you anything past that first layer. Where there was never a frog calling to another and beauty came in the shape of order, perfect lawns and well placed gardens where even the daisies seem educated. I guess I am still feeling restless. Time to go jog past the quarry again. See if I can spot some more creatures.

A living

A man should never earn his living.
if he earns his life he’ll be lovely.

A bird
picks up its seed or little snails
between heedless earth and heaven
in heedlessness.

But, the plucky little sport, it gives to life
song, and chirruping, gay feathers, fluff-shadowed
warmth
And all the unspeakable charm of birds hopping
and fluttering and being birds.
-- And we, we get it all from them for nothing.

D.H. Lawrence

rainy weekend

It is day three for cool and rainy. Yesterday I was going a little out of my tree with anxious thoughts but couldn’t explain why I was having them. Maybe not anxious. Maybe just restless or just feeling a little inadequate. Erin was at a friend’s place for most of yesterday, so Greg, Monica and I went to a bookstore. A rainy day and a bookstore - how easy they merge. Right now Monica is reading Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funk and so we weren’t going to buy her a book this time around, just went to browse but this big red book caught her attention called Dragonology. We started leafing through it and well, we both decided it was a must have. I also finally bought Housekeeping by Marilyn Robinson and a book on Selected poems by Dylan Thomas. So last evening as Monica studied Dragons, I settled in the armchair and started reading for a while but it was a restless kind of reading. I read a little of everything that was sitting near me but couldn’t lose myself in any one thing. I read a short story by Anton Chekhov called the Huntsman, which I thought was incredible. Anyway, Monica and Erin are going Go carting today with friends so I have to get moving. I’m hoping it will be a less restless day.

yesterday

On my morning jog
the sky was grey and rain fell tepid
and I wished for things I may never get
I avoided cracks, avoided people
Making wide detours around bus stops
I ran past graffiti walls and gas pumps and buildings
with cement balconies
and it made me heavy, these heavy things

I came to the Quarry and slowed my pace
And ran alongside its wired fence and rusted locks
all spread out this ground and marsh
Back all the way to the railroad tracks.
I keep forgetting how much I like this space

I first noticed four sparrows
each perched in a green wired diamond
of the fence -
behind them a brown wet muskrat
sat amongst long, winter-bleached straw
and on the water, balanced half horizontal
on a four-seasoned bullrush,
a red winged black bird
cocked a radiant head
I slowed some more and forgot the city
Ignored the fence, ignored the black tires submerged
In streaks of coloured water
ignored the turned over shopping carts,
the reams of white paper and broken glass
for a moment I let myself see
an urban field of beast and bird and flower

Certain things

I remember clearly
Like a blue leather coat
with a faux fur trim
A belt tied snuggly
Making her waist small
She was probably fourteen
Sailor boy no longer whispering too her
From the stone steps of the grotto
With its dispersion of broken glass
And Mary all but worn level
Open arms with no hands
A face with no features

The grotto was next to the Mount
where she delivered the Saturday paper
to the old people – following them into their rooms
as they shuffled to their night stands for their coin purse
thick fingers searching the contents for the dime they owed her.
I waited at the doorway, beneath cross or palm
The smell a fusion of things
None of it good. She called it the waiting to die smell
and would stand unyielding in the midst of it,
the large canvas pack hanging over her shoulder like a folded wing,
waiting as an angel would wait

sometimes she would turn to me and smile
producing a dimple the depth of a nickel

She made me believe in tree witches
had me laying out my best Barbie doll clothes
Between the ruts of root
an offering she said– so they wouldn’t sneak into
our bedroom at night and remove the blacks from our eyes
with a sewing needle.
She had a head like that
Where spies also followed us to school

Even grown her reality was questionable
what happened and what really happened
but I know for sure when
she was sixteen she made love on
the banks of The Little Damn
with the cutest guy in high school
I was both horrified and fascinated that she
could so willingly risk hell and heartbreak
for a moment of abandonment

He moved to Ontario shortly after
Taking his blue eyes and her heart with him
The pretty coat she loved – also long gone
The grotto torn down, safety reasons
The old people became the new old people
The old mount became the new mount
Bricks instead of beige stone

Only the tree witches remained

And up until she died
She slept every night with the light on

cat

Cat got bird
Bird alive
Cat so proud
Strutting along the path
Bird in its mouth
Placid and calm
Its sparrow head soft
I shake the cat
She lets the bird go
And it flies up and up and up
And away
Alive
Unmarked
Good as new
Cat gives me a look
Like What the f--k you do that for?
That was for you.

dead leaves and a crocus

monday

It is an absolute beautiful day out there. In a few minutes I will go out for a jog but first I thought I would blog briefly. Greg is in Las Vegas (business). When he left Monica said, “Remember Dad, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” She watches far too much TV.

Last evening I babysat our friend’s daughters for a few hours. The youngest just turned one. Oh man, I was rusty. I almost forgot that at that age they want to put everything into their mouth and they walk around like little drunks. And then there is that autonomy thing happening at that age where they become very upset if you don’t let them do things for themselves. Like hold the spoon. However, by the time she maneuvered the spoon from the bowl to her mouth, there was very little food left to be had on the spoon. It was in my lap, on her head, on my floor, down my sleeve. I then took them to the playground around 8 pm and let the little one stagger around the field for a while, while Monica and their older daughter climbed the monkey bars. The baby kept stopping and looking up into the sky where the half moon stood out very brightly. She was mesmerized by it. Her little arm pointing upward. I would love to see that moon, like she was seeing it right then. The evening was a lot of fun. I hope I get the opportunity again to baby-sit for them.

Now, I need to go jog. Greg wants to run a 10km at the end of May. I don’t know if we will be ready for it but it’s a goal. It will keep me jogging for the next couple of months anyway.

they're here!

morning sun (haikus)

Light morning yellow
Stretched across barn wood pine
Wakes me with a start

Yield sign of yellow
Glistens as the morning sun
slides across its paint

quiz

What book are you?

You're Watership Down!

by Richard Adams

Though many think of you as a bit young, even childish, you're
actually incredibly deep and complex. You show people the need to rethink their
assumptions, and confront them on everything from how they think to where they
build their houses. You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You'd
be recognized as such if you weren't always talking about talking rabbits.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

the other agent

The following post takes place between the minutes of 8:45 and 9:05 am.

This is the first season that Greg and I started watching “24” and we both like it. All the low talking, quick action, split screen, clock ticking scenarios and we try to tune in every Monday night. We are willing to suspend disbelief a little to enjoy a show, not get too caught up in the how and whys, but this being said we’re beginning to grow concerned about a few things. Like first off would someone please order these people a pizza or something. I haven’t seen them eat yet. In fact I haven’t seen so much as a coffee in Jack's hand. (I don’t think) .
We are also getting quite concerned with the safety of Jack Bauer’s back ups. Like this guy is going through at least one an hour. He goes out with a team and usually comes back by himself and no one seems to care. They all work together don’t they? There's not even a “Where’s Joe, Jack? Didn’t he go out with you?” It seems they pretty much take it for granted that Jack will be the only survivor of each mission.
You think at this point when the head of CTU says, “Jack assemble a team and go find Marwan,” that the remaining other agents would try absolutely everything to avoid eye contact with Jack. Looking up at the ceiling, down at the floor, complaining of headaches, making excuses, “Sorry Jack, my gun is at the cleaners.”
I can’t help but think of a comic strip of Charlie Brown where Lucy destroys Schroeder’s piano and the bust of Beethoven that is sitting on it. Schroeder’s just gets up, walks to a closet, opens the door where he keeps a stack of duplicate pianos and then he walks to another closet where he keeps a stack of duplicate Beethoven heads. I figure when they tell Jack to assemble a team, he does the same thing - goes to a closet marked “Other Agents”.
In the last episode the other agent in Jack’s company lasted all of three minutes. I don’t know maybe they might be quicker on the draw if CTU would let its employee’s have meal breaks.

waking from a catnap
photo by Monica

garbage day

I went for my first jog of the year this morning. It was cold. I jogged past this man who just left his house to walk his dog. His car was parked in the street. He went directly to it and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the trunk. He glanced at his house once, quickly. His secret.
I use to smoke. When I first started, I would sneak up to the ball diamond in my hometown and hide out in the dugout. When I smoked I would pretend I was Francis Farmer and I would pick imaginary tobacco pieces from my tongue like Jessica Lange did in the movie. I quit smoking when I got pregnant with Erin and never had one since but I would have to say, I use to love to smoke. It's a little ironic that I was doing something as healthy as jogging but thinking about smoking. Not that I will ever start again. Well maybe when I’m eighty if I get there.

I walked around my yard when I came back. The crocus’s shoots are about an inch or two above the surface now, the tulips and daffodils have started also. New green in little bunches. Well, considering back home had 30cms of snowfall yesterday – all is going quite smoothly here.

I tell ya though, the raccoons in this city seem to be out numbering the squirrels now. I spent a lot of time in the woods as a kid and I don’t think I ever seen a raccoon but here in the city I see two a day. Big fellows. I wonder what happens to animals like this who have no natural predators around to keep their population down? There are a lot of skunks too. The city now has in place, organic waste removal, where we fill up these green boxes and put them out once a week for pickup. The winter wasn’t that kind to ours and the latch is difficult to bang shut now. On my jog I noticed a few others must have this problem because the raccoons had gotten into a few. It wasn’t pretty. As I am writing this I just noticed a squirrel running across the road with what appears to be a half eaten donut. Rejoice, all ye little city animals for today is garbage day.

So, spring-cleaning. I should go out and get a book on how to do this because frankly I always do a half ass job. I’ll start with the kitchen and move on to the windows if I have time today. My cupboards are scary – I think I have a couple of garlic plants growing in the back of it now. At least the basement is done. So, anyway here I go to clean the day.

Silver

spring

I remember
wishing on a robin with her.
Our boots scraping gravel.
The sun bright on the dismantled bucket
Of our father’s catapillar.
we wished for ketchup chips.

reading list

I thought I should post something even though I have this head full of fog. Renewal time. Wakey, wakey. I've been rather absent minded lately. Almost forgot to walk the neighbour’s dog yesterday. Monica walks him every lunch hour but yesterday she had a field trip so I said I would do it for her. It was 1:30 when I remembered and I rushed over there to find him sitting on the middle of their kitchen table. He is a little Shih Tzu and a very likable little fellow and he has this skip that he does with his back leg when he walks that is quite funny. Trot-trot-trot-skip –trot- trot- trot- skip. Anyway, he now has me thinking about a new dog, although I did promise Greg we would go at least one year dog free! But it doesn’t hurt to check the shelters every once in awhile in case the perfect dog is sitting there waiting for us.
I was also checking out some writing courses. There is a week -long short story workshop at the end of July at one of the universities in town. It sounds pretty good. Acceptance is based on the written piece you wish to workshop. That in it self is scary and the one I would most like to workshop is still in my head. So, I should stop procrastinating and get that down in some form or other. I have been writing a little or trying too. I'm almost finished this light fantasy story. I have so much half completed stuff – got to organize myself.

Greg, who has this distinctive ear for the sound of hardware in crisis, says he doesn’t like the sound of my laptop. He thinks her days are numbered and so out of the kindness of his heart, he backed up all my files and synchronized my laptop with the hard drive in the office. He’s my Leonard. If only he would build me a printing press. However, he wasn’t impressed at all with my filing system and wondered how I could possibly find anything when I just have one major file called stories that has everything from screen plays to journal entries to half finished novels, query letters, short stories, scattered attempts at poetry and what not. It really is quite a mess. How does a person go about getting some discipline!

Everything has been returned that went out by mail. But, still I’m pleased. However slight, I feel I improved and I feel hopeful that I can improve a little more.

One thing I have organized is my reading list for this summer. these are some of the books i had bought during this winter which I didn't get around to and will definitely read this summer. They are as follows–
Stories by Anton Chekhov ,The Waves by Virginia Woolf, The Dharma bums by Jack Kerouac, The blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood, Spadework by Timothy Findley and at some point I want to finish Sophie’s World by Jostein Gaarder and read The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger. And then there are the last two books of Stephen King’s Dark Tower I need to read at some point– however I gotta tell ya I wasn’t impressed with Wolves of the Calla. It was still readable though. Virginia Woolf to Stephen king. Well no one can say I don’t have a well-rounded appetite for books. I remember my father saying one time to me, regarding books. He said, “you know, there are really very few unreadable books out there, some just take more of a commitment to get into.” I think that is pretty well true. But like anything else; you do want to fill your head with the best ones. Anyway, i am so looking forward to reading on sunny days out back in my white plastic lawn chiar, at a picnic table under a growth of pine on our weekend camping trips, lying on a sandy blanket at the beach or sitting on a great smooth rock near the water - looking forward to some summer reading.

Get behind the Mule

Listening to Tom Waits this morning.

Molly be damned smote Jimmy the Harp
With a horrid little pistol and a lariat
She's goin to the bottom
And she's goin down the drain
Said she wasn't big enough to carry it

She got to get behind the Mule
In the morning and plow
She got to get behind the Mule
In the morning and plow
She got to get behind the Mule
In the morning and plow
She got to get behind the Mule
In the morning and plow

Choppity chop goes the axe in the woods
You gotta meet me by the fall down tree
Shovel of dirt upon a coffin lid
And I know they'll come lookin for me boys
And I know they'll come a-lookin for me

(chorus)

Big Jack Earl was 8'1
He stood in the road and he cried
He couldn't make her love him
Couldn't make her stay
But tell the good Lord that he tried
(Chorus)
Dusty trail from Atchison to Placerville
On the wreck of the Weaverville stage
Beaula fired on Beatty for a lemonade
I was stirring my brandy with a nail boys
Stirring my brandy with a nail
(Chorus)
Well the rampaging sons of the widow James
Jack the cutter and the pock marked kid
Had to stand naked at the bottom
Of the cross
And tell the good lord what they did
Tell the good lord what they did
(Chorus)
Punctuated birds on the power line
In a Studebaker with the Birdie Joe Joaks
I'm diggin all the way to China
With a silver spoon
While the hangman fumbles with the noose, boys
The hangman fumbles with the noose
(Chorus)
Pin your ear to the wisdom post
Pin your eye to the line
Never let the weeds get higher
Than the garden
Always keep a sapphire in your mind
Always keep a diamond in your mind
(Chorus)

behindtheax

Thursday, April 28, 2005

the sun is now out , so I removed that post

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

dreary

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

A living

Sunday, April 24, 2005

rainy weekend

Thursday, April 21, 2005

yesterday

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Certain things

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

cat

Monday, April 18, 2005

monday

Saturday, April 16, 2005

morning sun (haikus)

Thursday, April 14, 2005

quiz

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

the other agent

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

garbage day

Monday, April 11, 2005

spring

Friday, April 08, 2005

reading list

Monday, April 04, 2005

Get behind the Mule

About Me

Links

Previous Posts

Archives