Thursday, May 26, 2005

It Could Be Toilet Bowl Clearners

Wondering if, "Children Playing" signs can be considered lies if no children can be seen playing. Wondering who still eats ant McDonalds and Burger King. Wondering how batteries work. Wondering how sun screen works. Wondering how thunder and lightning works.

Wonderng how long I will have to sit in an office cubicle by day. Stopped at Zellers today. Can you imagine being in the position of having to work in the basement of a Zellers in the House Hold goods section, wearing a red and black heavy tee shirt that reads "Zellers" and being asked the following question, "Do you have toilet bowl brushes in stands?". It's true that "an honest living is a good living" but I just couldn't do this job. So as much as office administration work does not tanslate into passion, purpose or meaning, at least it doesn't involve toilet bowl brushes.
And I'm thankful for that.

Sunday, May 08, 2005


So many memories today. It started out with waking up from a dream that featured a girl I knew in high school. She was involved in witnessing someone pull a gun and later shoot someone. The setting was a former cold war Nova Scotia bomb bunker turned community college building I attended years after I knew her. Also, interlaced with the dream was a theme of me loosing "expensive" (to me that is) jewelry. This theme came out of recent times when I waxed poetic about a lost pendant that later turned out to be hiding under the sofa I was waxing on.

Over the radio that squawking was about the 60th Anniversary of WW2 ending. I remember where I was when the radio was blathering on about the 50th Anniversary of WW2 ending. I was in the midst of my own war. I'd recently run away from home without any money. I was taken in by a suspect, ogling, old gay priest with HIV who ran around in leopard print underwear. I'm sure I'm one of the few people who still remembers him or thinks about him. Unfortunately for me! The house I stayed in with him was later torn down to make an overpass to the bridge over the harbour between Halifax and Dartmouth Nova Scotia. Despite all these struggles all my mother could think to do was scold me about not putting more importance in the WW2 anniversary when she phoned me that Sunday 10 years ago. (People say I have a good memory Define good I say!)

Later in the day, on a drive out around town I spotted a tiny camping trailer. (Picture a large egg turned on its side with wheels.) My family had taken a trip to PEI in one of these little cans probably pushing 20 years ago. I remember my father snoring and the oppressive heat generated by 4 people being in the tiny fiber glassed egg of a trailer. I remember episodes of excitement such as spotting a great blue heron. Then there was sneaking into the shower room to see if any nude men and their "great blue herons" could be spotted. And finally a bunch some campers offering us all of their condiments, ketchup, relish and all, since they were leaving the camp ground. My parents refused the condiments citing, "Who knows where they've been!" My brother and I were left to wonder where the condiments could have been!- besides the cooler.

On the drive I completed a long desired goal of finding the two little houses I almost bought in 2002. Bedraggled, far from down town, one with slum on either side the other an in descript piece of a generic row house complex. At the time it seemed like a big loss not to have bought these houses. As I drove back downtown I couldn't have been happier with the way these residential matters had gone. I tried to apply this lesson to the broader context of my life. I had a bit of success. Basically, while not everything that happened to me over the years has been the best, and I would have chosen less torturous methods to get to the good stuff in life if I could have, at least the troubles and events have brought about a life that is for the best. I found myself in a moment of contentedness for the way things are. Rare for me, especially on a Sunday evening.

Friday, May 06, 2005


As I mentioned before, "Law and Order" loves to do episodes on transsexuals. This past week the show was at it again. Just like a recent, "Cold Squad" episode the father found out about the son liking a ts girl. Then the son and father went ballistic. I've been through something similar to this type of pain and degradation. I'm thankful I figured out when it was time to walk away. In this episode, the father and son went and killed the girl. Two more people that could have been happy but ended up miserable and dead because of bigotry and people not owning their shit.

Another of my favourite shows, "Third Watch" ended this week. Call it pathetic -but only if you forget to walk a mile in my shoes first- but these characters used to keep me company in the late 90's and early 00's.

The show ending reminded me of another show ending. "Melrose Place" was a real favourite of mine. The day it ended I was sitting in a motel room on the edge of Nova Scotia about to shove off on a ferry boat for the USA to work as tourism worker at the dock of Bar Harbor, Maine. It didn't know what I was getting into. I should tell that story sometime.

Sunday, May 01, 2005

My Past Sat Next To Me
Old churches. I've been in an old church tonight. To see a choral concert. I have now been to four of these concerts. Two Christmas and two Spring. I feel so appreciative to be there. To watch someone I love sing.

Each concert seems to mark time. Each stands out. Like it records in my mind an official record of what was going on in my life around the time of the concert. For example, the first Christmas concert was a time when I had just gotten out of the hospital. I didn't know if I was living or dying, laughing or crying. I was basically doing all of it. Starting a new life. With all of the luggage and themes from the old life in tow. Trying to understand the motivations for making new starts even after they've been made. Trying to reconcile and make peace with my expectations new starts that were shattered and didn't come to pass. Lost. Found. Soul deep in love. It was a dramatic, magical and never to be repeated time.

But the church looks the same. And it will look the same 50 years after I'm gone. I think of all the souls that have passed through the doors. What was on their minds? Where did they go in their lives? Are they sitting beside me in the pews, invisible?" Old churches magnify the passage of time to the point that I feel anxious. But at least the magnifying reminds me again that time is precious. To make as many beautiful memories as possible. We will all join the invisible church goers in the pews soon enough. And we want to have some memories to trade with them when we arrive.