My Word.

I shouldn't, but I am, so here it is.
The selected version of things I didn't say, now said, simply because I like them.

"Things in life are always more than the words that try to contain them."
&
"I should just write it anyway and see where it takes me."

I love to see the unexpected places words take me. Words surprise. Let's read tonight.

The Shadow Knows

1. You can't see the forest through the trees 2. Twenty years from now it won't make a damn bit of difference 3. A dead horse will never work 4. When you look in the eyes you see eyeballs.

These statements require delivery. They (except for the second) aren't simply said. They need to be sent. In transporting these expressions the darkness that shrouds them is shaken off. They aren't as grey as they appear, or maybe they are, but that's okay too. Anyway and either way, they make me smile.

Delivery included:
The first is said while riding in a car (at the speed limit) and being steered by a wobbly driver across farm-side streets. You yawn and a finger is in your mouth. You turn your head to look at sheep and you're poked in the cheek when you look ahead again. You look out at a forest, but the driver complains he can't see it through all of those trees.

After perhaps a, "For God's sake Bett" (Bett is the woman in the photo), or more innocuously, after a long look at slowly passing clouds, the second is said just as the second is written. And 'it' probably won't.

The third is posed as a question, or rather, a fact to be questioned.
It will never work.
What won't work?
A dead horse.

The fourth is purely silly.
I look in the eyes and what do I see? Eyes-a-balls!

I'm thinking now that I have a lot to get done that I am not doing. I'm thinking I'll pay attention to number 2, sleep, and worry about it in the morning.

Subject: On Mail (A Lengthy Post)

On her four fingers she wrote, "Action", "Expression", "Honesty" and "Comfort," I said, "You've got a thumb left for love." She said, "I've got too much hate." With all abounding thoughts on action resting violently in my head I've forgotten some important things, mainly honesty. Mainly honest expression. Lack of honest expression has led me... let's just say it's led me astray in the past. I would use one of my four fingers for bravery, rather than comfort, because I feel I need it for the other three, and I feel that it's a weakening fear of discomfort that allows me to lie to myself. Everything under a smile.

One day I walked with an elderly woman to the post office. We met because I giggled at her opening a door with her bum, "You gotta use what you got." She said she was sick of writing letters because she had sent so many to her brothers and husband during the war. Mail is important. It's a little bit of all four fingers.

Making Moves and Puppy Love

I've recently made scrabble moves, dance moves and moves from point a to point b (and c, d, e).
Scrabble is a series of careful decisions. I chose "Pi".
Dancing is a series of thoughtless actions. My feet choose for me; they do not always choose grace or dignity.
Moves from point a to b are difficult, particularly with the use of 50 cent pay-phones, more so when you do not know the neighbourhood you're in. You get crafty. I went into a Chapters and quickly found the travel section to plan my route. A subway ride later, then following much misguided direction and forfeiting to a gypsy-cab-co-esque taxi, I made it to the door I was to enter. Ascending one simple set of stairs can be a daunting task when you do not know the apartment call number to get you through a door, when you don't have a cellphone to find out, and when you don't know what to dial even if you did. I found myself in front of that very task. First, I walked out of the building to see if I could spot a room to throw stones at. I can't throw curve balls so I decided to try my luck guessing apartments. Numbers 1-14. I had an inkling it was 13. The building must have a suspicious landlord because these numbers jumped from 12-14. I tried 12. That was it. I was meant to get into that apartment. The evening that followed was too good to tell*. Good in that sad way, and good in that way that I just can't quite put into words yet because I can't quite understand it.

Eventually, after a short weekend that lasted forever, I brought myself home to to dream of puppy love. His name is Freddie and my mom brought him to Oakville yesterday. He is about the size of a shoe, soot-black, and really freakin' cute. One day soon I'll swing back into movement and meet this little mutt.

* I think I unconsciously took this from Kerouac, but inverted it's meaning. Apps?

C.E.O. (Customer Excellence Officer)

I don't know what I get paid, and all in all I don't care at all. I work at a grocery store. I spent the past three days packing rectangular bags with objects all different shapes and sizes. Tetris anyone?
I gave health advice I'm not at all qualified to give. This season I'm recommending you get omega three fatty acids from a plant-based source (flax) to keep your skin glowing and your mood elevated. Take oil of oregano for anything that ails you. Eat beets.
I saw old favourites. Mrs. Kettleborough (bags packed light) taught me how to pronounce her first name in the most over-the-top Kettleborough way. I love that every single time she signs her bill her name runs over the line and then bends down along the side of the receipt.
I saw my boss. She calls me "babygurrrrrl", periodically gives me bear hugs, and keeps me company during breaks.

I also babysit. Tonight I played with lightsabers, explained the dark side, and made tie fighters out of sticks.

My fee should be something like negative five dollars/hour. I should pay you for letting me tell you about my holidays while you pass me your credit cards. I should pay you for feeding me, letting me play with your toys, and giving me picture books to read. Bosses/parents make momentary monetary lapses in judgement and give me cheques and dollars for doing things I like to do. Oh well.


Note: I'm glorifying the grocery store, but in doses small and spread apart it's actually as lovely as it sounds. And yeah, our name tags actually say "C.E.O", and yeah, I've probably heard that joke.