time to pretend

He is supposed to cook me dinner tomorrow, supposed to. He has moved our plans as if it was an outlook meeting twice and is over compensating with the promise of a meal. I am thinking I will cancel on him; I no longer care for him. My friends say things like “give him a chance”, “remember you liked him when you went out”, "he is a nice guy” but I feel nothing but anger about being disrespectfully shelved and wonder is there value in pretending.

Self-help guru calls me and we discuss the idea of being open. She tells me about learned behavior and internal dialogues hinder the openness one needs to let another in. She promises me this can be relearned, I agree out of politeness as it’s her long distance. She ends promising me with her help I can be re-taught to learn to believe a safe place can be built with the help of another even though I have never seen this successfully done the way I would design. Curiously though I wonder is there value in pretending.

Cute young black comedian fills two hours with the defensive youthful misogyny only a closet case burdened by racial expectancy and military upbringing can manifest. We as an audience laugh; he is funny and has the wit and style. Its minute forty I feel sad; he is 26 the crash will happen soon, he is at that age, I know that age. I can’t laugh any more during the show. The audience continues to facilitate his fallacy but again I ask, is there value in pretending.

The comedian said in his show “you turn thirty and you are pretty much who every you are going to be for the rest of your life”. He said it as if aware of it’s approach, fearing his time left to discover all has been book ended. I sit here over discovered and hardened wishing that I will be able to sleep off the fatigue, run out of the sobriety, and just feel glee. But then I ask myself is there any value in pretending.

my balcony

On you I sit allowing me access to them.

Them whom make dinner below as their kids play in the yard. A yard only by definition, the grass carpet they are enjoying is a mere few square feet in size. I wonder as watch them both pet the rabbit contently within their small space when exactly adulthood will take over and cause them to seek glee within a greedier expanse. The hiss of a watering hose is heard as it turns on, splashing the brother and sister team with floods of gleeful giggles and screams. As they sit to eat their conversation is operational. It is full of instructions to either the children encouraging them to eat their dinners, or to each other as they define what is needed to successfully get the kids to sleep tonight. They are in the middle of the race.

Them who are the new and fresh student couple a building over on the second floor that lazily strum a guitar over the sizzle of the barbecue. Their conversation is filled with brainstorming about fall classes and a potential European summer trip and life in general. They are only just starting to run.

As they eat on their balconies below I catch only snippets of the conversations between the staccato clinks of cutlery to plate. The drums from the tam tams are heard in the distance with their rhythmic stamina not yet showing fatigue from today's heat an the occasional car horn honks celebrating Spain’s victory.

The sun is now shining directly from the north, mere moments before it slumbers under the line of the horizon. The evening glow now more akin to a hug as opposed to the aggressive punch to the gut that was today and much of last weeks swelter. I sit and listen to the warm noise.

‎"Half an hour and then its time to get ready for bed" the mother says while winding up the garden hose. I fear I will beat them to it. Just as I ponder this sun leaves and I go inside. The students continue to sip wine and talk.

I love the plateau and my place in it, whatever lap I am on.

pure baser

II sip my espresso sweaty. This last week everything I have done has been sweaty. Montreal is sweaty of late and I am finding the heat and humidity harking back to Rio is so many ways. I find myself expecting to see the site of the blue ocean between the city blocks, flirting with me as I walked about the Montreal streets much the way I did with the Ipanema shops. The ocean smiling a confident grin knowing full well that I would eventually succumb to the seduction with my ass soon on the hot sand amongst the gallery of the sensual.

But there is no ocean and no Gallery. Instead it’s my waking life and not the ten day dream of 7 months ago. Still the heat is bringing Rio to me in that, as I type this at 5 am this Saturday morning I am pure baser. My rational baked right out of me. It takes extreme heat for me to access the freedom to drive on instinct.

Many in the city find themselves bothered by this heat, pulling at their clothes and complaining about their restless slumber. I experience all of those same things but instead in the stickiness I find comfort. Accessing the baser in Rio allowed me to drive the first half of 2010 on gut instinct. As I am fatigued by the freeway full of uncertainty ahead I need the sweat. Fatigued and clammy, this heat assures me of my animal and my intrinsic. People speak of confidence as a bankable resource stored by experience and accomplishment. For me confidence is felt only when I surrender to my animal. With cold soberness the fuel of rational, it is with irony as when I am most analytical I hold the stability of an ice cube.

Happy to continue sweating it out for a bit; the organic condition is grounding.

proud in the park

Gruff and I sat in the park today. We sat in the sun, throwing up the odds and ends of the past while into a stream of conversation that lasted for a few sun soaked hours. I relax with Gruff, I always have. Arty brought Gruff into my life and I thank her for it and I hate her for getting to enjoy him on the levels I will never get to. Around Gruff I feel proud, then I leave Gruff and even the hottest summer day seems that much colder and I am lost.

After the part I headed down into the village to walk through the art I have seen three days in a row now. Beauty by Beaudry I guess makes my playground less threatening so I thought best take advantage of the comfort zone while I still had it as in another week the canvases are gone.

I still see cock in cock out, I have seen this for three years now. People tell me that that’s not the case but I have failed to see it differently and I want so much to see it differently.

Potential Michelangelos use the abstraction of the intertube and sites with ‘hunt’ ‘grinder’ or versions of in the title to find a mate. Then they find one and they speak about the 'hot' cattle on the street with animalistic verbiage right in front of their future husbands, boyfriends etc.

There is no honor, I see no honor, or respect for that matter. Just cock in, cock out.

Its pride month and I am not proud.

with glowing hearts we see the rise

With glowing hearts we see the rise, or so they say. My Canada Day was to start with a picnic; a few friends, a bit of food and the summer sun. As cloud cover soaked our grass dinning room, the plan gave way to the charms of a warm breakfast and a sense of whimsy. When Phylis, Sleepy, Gruff and I get together I feel connected. To what I am not sure, but it’s a connection nonetheless. As a friendship collective the four of us (five when Arty is Back in town) want and chase different things, trade currencies exchanged at different markets and filter life’s refractive circumstances through eyes unique. As diverse as we are, once at the table, picnic or bistro, we web.

The day took a whimsical turn as we ventured through the Plateau Streets littered with the collateral damage of ‘Moving Day’. We decided to Hunt for discarded treasures left on the curb awaiting our love. Found was the random conversation that occurs with such unplanned spelunking, a Chuck Palahniuk novel, my new green 'change dish', three mason jars cum balcony candle holders, and the tiniest of plant pots. Once back at my place, the others with their treasures retired on the sunny balcony a bit before we would head to a pub for a pint and then a bit of tilt and sway down at the Jazz Festival. I just have to be around them and I am calm, right now I need calm. Always I am needing calm. I often wonder if they know that just sitting around their noise renders my anxiety and fear weak. When gruff takes the piss, it’s a hug. When Sleepy gets all nappy its his eternal boy that warms my heart with its innocence. Phylis, just knowing Phylis I have a ‘kind-constant’ that resets my gage when dealing with those whom are not so.

Whimsy played, I returned home back to the balcony alone. The instability in my life right now ripples the stilled moments with anxiety and worry. It’s normal and understandable but sometimes heavy. Tonight it had the potential to out weigh. It did until I decided to take a walk.

Down from St. Denis I went past the restos filled with the unapologetically watchable seductiveness that is the average Montrealer in the summer sun. Even though these people know me as the stranger smiling, I am so grateful to be living in this fantastic city as at least a passive observer in the lives of those that share it. From there Library DVD returned and into the village I went for a quick coffee. Again plan thwarted when I turned down St. Catherine to find the street tented with art. Ipod off and a quick stop became a much-needed meander around so many things pretty.

In the corner of one the tents, three prints spoke to me, as did the charming artist as she spoke as her creative pathology. “I just got fed up with waiting she said, art is what I do, it was time for me to step up and speak my voice” she said hand on hip, stance strong. The aesthetic as it hangs on my wall will always remind me of her pride at her work, her voice.

Art in hand I went into American Apparel to see if they had the new BUTT inspired towels, they did. I know this as this lithe sparkled eyed beautiful boy showed me where they were and once there a conversation about all things photography occurred. A conversation i have been dying to have with anyone. Sure to be younger then me by years, the chemistry over road the age difference. Smiles were shared and again I found myself in that awkward place where I have to do the asking. I wanted to do the asking but words failed me. Chatting to the beautiful boy was enough for tonight but just barely. I left for home out on the street under the cotton candy colored summer evening sky frustrated for not being able to say what I wanted to.

I am keen to foster my glowing heart a bit more as its fast becoming clear that in doing so i will see the rise soon.