I have been so restless these days... My sleep is tormented by perturbing dreams. I wake up every morning precisely at 4:18 am, unable to return to sleep... yet too tired to stay awake.
27 April 2005
To sleep, perchance to dream; Ay, there's the rub
I have been so restless these days... My sleep is tormented by perturbing dreams. I wake up every morning precisely at 4:18 am, unable to return to sleep... yet too tired to stay awake.
10 April 2005
Dreams - Paul Laurence Dunbar
Dream on, for dreams are sweet:
Do not awaken!
Dream on, and at thy feet
Pomegranates shall be shaken.
Who likeneth the youth
Of life to morning?
'Tis like the night in truth,
Rose-coloured dreams adorning.
The wind is soft above,
The shadows umber.
(There is a dream called Love.)
Take thou the fullest slumber!
In Lethe's soothing stream,
Thy thirst thou slakest.
Sleep, sleep; 't is sweet to dream.
Oh, weep when thou awakest!
Do not awaken!
Dream on, and at thy feet
Pomegranates shall be shaken.
Who likeneth the youth
Of life to morning?
'Tis like the night in truth,
Rose-coloured dreams adorning.
The wind is soft above,
The shadows umber.
(There is a dream called Love.)
Take thou the fullest slumber!
In Lethe's soothing stream,
Thy thirst thou slakest.
Sleep, sleep; 't is sweet to dream.
Oh, weep when thou awakest!
01 April 2005
My Lips (Aquah LaLuah)
My lips were buds of innocence until you
came one day
And drew a fountain from my heart and
careless went your way,
My lips were hungry, eager flowers curved
in ecstatic bliss
To gather the soft sweetness of my next
lover's kiss.
My lips were luscious ripeness of a crushed
and poisoned vine
When you bent your lips upon me and my soft
ones clung to thine
My lips are withering fading flowers, full
weary unto death
Dew without moisture is thy kiss; wind
without heat thy breath.
A fugitive tear wells up from my eyes and
is secretly, silently shed.
Are lips that once were innocent, so
withered, so parched, so dead?
Poem by Gladys May Casley-Hayford
came one day
And drew a fountain from my heart and
careless went your way,
My lips were hungry, eager flowers curved
in ecstatic bliss
To gather the soft sweetness of my next
lover's kiss.
My lips were luscious ripeness of a crushed
and poisoned vine
When you bent your lips upon me and my soft
ones clung to thine
My lips are withering fading flowers, full
weary unto death
Dew without moisture is thy kiss; wind
without heat thy breath.
A fugitive tear wells up from my eyes and
is secretly, silently shed.
Are lips that once were innocent, so
withered, so parched, so dead?
Poem by Gladys May Casley-Hayford
17 March 2005
Santé Émile!
Une oeuvre de Jean-Paul Lemieux, peintre, illustrant Émile Nelligan au Carré Saint-Louis enneigé.
Où que tu sois en ce jour, j'espère qu'on te laisse savourer un verre de vin rouge en célébration de tes racines.
SOIR D'HIVER
Ah! comme la neige a neigé!
Ma vitre est un jardin de givre.
Ah! comme la neige a neigé!
Qu'est-ce que le spasme de vivre
A la douleur que j'ai, que j'ai.
Tous les étangs gisent gelés,
Mon âme est noire! Où-vis-je? où vais-je?
Tous ses espoirs gisent gelés:
Je suis la nouvelle Norvège
D'où les blonds ciels s'en sont allés.
Pleurez, oiseaux de février,
Au sinistre frisson des choses,
Pleurez oiseaux de février,
Pleurez mes pleurs, pleurez mes roses,
Aux branches du genévrier.
Ah! comme la neige a neigé!
Ma vitre est un jardin de givre.
Ah! comme la neige a neigé!
Qu'est-ce que le spasme de vivre
A tout l'ennui que j'ai, que j'ai...
Ma vitre est un jardin de givre.
Ah! comme la neige a neigé!
Qu'est-ce que le spasme de vivre
A la douleur que j'ai, que j'ai.
Tous les étangs gisent gelés,
Mon âme est noire! Où-vis-je? où vais-je?
Tous ses espoirs gisent gelés:
Je suis la nouvelle Norvège
D'où les blonds ciels s'en sont allés.
Pleurez, oiseaux de février,
Au sinistre frisson des choses,
Pleurez oiseaux de février,
Pleurez mes pleurs, pleurez mes roses,
Aux branches du genévrier.
Ah! comme la neige a neigé!
Ma vitre est un jardin de givre.
Ah! comme la neige a neigé!
Qu'est-ce que le spasme de vivre
A tout l'ennui que j'ai, que j'ai...
15 March 2005
Am Solo
La Dee Da
Not a character on Star Wars but rather the new cry of singles of either gender in this era. What happened? Hard to say. Somehow we lost our ability to touch and cannot feel anymore. Maybe we want to feel and forgot how to. So many people trying their hands at online dating, tuning in to message boards, discussing politics but mostly love to far away computer pen pals. We've lost proper grammar as well as the desire to listen to a real voice softly breathing on us. Through this mist, what do we really crave? Connections, or at least maybe a connection. People use words like soul mate, the One, etc. to describe who they're looking for. They often overlook the fact that they have little tolerance for any human foibles in their mate. Online, you can hear young men being repulsed by any type of hair found on the female body. Blemishes are looked down on (on both sides). If you're a gent, you have to be perfectly handsome, toned, educated, wealthy, connoisseur of things extraordinaire. Ladies need not be wealthy or particularly bright, but their breasts need perkiness and their willingness to perform like a porn star after cooking a five-course meal will be greatly coveted.
While we dote on anonymous correspondents, very real humans cross our busy paths on a daily basis. They remain overlooked and underappreciated. I guess this century can already claim one mutation (well, permutation would probably be more accurate), the solitarius cor cordis permutation. The lonely heart which, prior to this era was confined to his living-room with his TV for companionship, is now able to connect to *millions* of other lonely hearts unable or unwilling to associate with anything human.
I live on a short dead-end street with only eight houses on it. I barely speak to my neighbors. We've had a lot of snow this winter and, for the first time, my elderly neighbor has come and taken care of my driveway for me. He has a snowblower which makes the whole task so much more easier. He does not knock on my door to let me know he will be doing that. Nor does he knock to let me know he's done. If I'm already outside shoveling, he simply waves and proceeds as if it was already pre-arranged. I have baked banana bread and cookies for him. He accepts the goods, but never invites me in. He barely speaks to me, yet I think he must like me somewhat. It's hard for me to imagine us living this way fifty years ago - being so far apart, while being so close. I barely communicate with my other neighbors. I do have extensive dialogs with earthly neighbors living thousands of miles away though. They know things about myself that I wonder if I would tell them should they happen to be local friends.
Is this the way we are ushering in the new millennium? Will the 21st century be the era of hardcore singles, cybersex and lonely but horny online buddies? What exactly are we teaching the upcoming generation? Are we teaching them that there is no such thing as happiness and that it is better to remain in an unpleasant situation than to extract yourself from it and try to make things better around you. Often, adults (just like children) learn by imitating the behavior of those around them. Unfortunately, with the amount of disenfranchised souls around, future generations might turn a bit disconnected and a tad unhappy.
Of course it can be difficult to overcome shyness and reach out to strangers, but we need to look beyond the safety of our monitors and do so. In any case, we should also realize that the words we read online are not from a disembodied soul and they can sometimes mean more (or even less) than what they say. By jumping too quickly to conclusion, we project upon our interlocutor our own ideas or spin on things. This can only result in deception. Of course, it is fairly easy to then accuse that person of injecting sophism to muddy the waters, but it would be best to realize that on the contrary, our own reluctance to tear the veil before our eyes induced us in error.
I think that we need to reconnect with people we encounter on a daily basis. I try to do so by offering a smile, a wink or a wave to various people that I meet. Often I compliment strangers or eagerly offer them help. I do not expect anything in return. I am satisfied that I have touched them in some way. I simply try to be the change I wish to see as Mahatma Gandhi as suggested. He also said to believe in something, and not to live it, is dishonest. I am just trying to live a principled life.
La Dee Da Dee Da
Not a character on Star Wars but rather the new cry of singles of either gender in this era. What happened? Hard to say. Somehow we lost our ability to touch and cannot feel anymore. Maybe we want to feel and forgot how to. So many people trying their hands at online dating, tuning in to message boards, discussing politics but mostly love to far away computer pen pals. We've lost proper grammar as well as the desire to listen to a real voice softly breathing on us. Through this mist, what do we really crave? Connections, or at least maybe a connection. People use words like soul mate, the One, etc. to describe who they're looking for. They often overlook the fact that they have little tolerance for any human foibles in their mate. Online, you can hear young men being repulsed by any type of hair found on the female body. Blemishes are looked down on (on both sides). If you're a gent, you have to be perfectly handsome, toned, educated, wealthy, connoisseur of things extraordinaire. Ladies need not be wealthy or particularly bright, but their breasts need perkiness and their willingness to perform like a porn star after cooking a five-course meal will be greatly coveted.
While we dote on anonymous correspondents, very real humans cross our busy paths on a daily basis. They remain overlooked and underappreciated. I guess this century can already claim one mutation (well, permutation would probably be more accurate), the solitarius cor cordis permutation. The lonely heart which, prior to this era was confined to his living-room with his TV for companionship, is now able to connect to *millions* of other lonely hearts unable or unwilling to associate with anything human.
I live on a short dead-end street with only eight houses on it. I barely speak to my neighbors. We've had a lot of snow this winter and, for the first time, my elderly neighbor has come and taken care of my driveway for me. He has a snowblower which makes the whole task so much more easier. He does not knock on my door to let me know he will be doing that. Nor does he knock to let me know he's done. If I'm already outside shoveling, he simply waves and proceeds as if it was already pre-arranged. I have baked banana bread and cookies for him. He accepts the goods, but never invites me in. He barely speaks to me, yet I think he must like me somewhat. It's hard for me to imagine us living this way fifty years ago - being so far apart, while being so close. I barely communicate with my other neighbors. I do have extensive dialogs with earthly neighbors living thousands of miles away though. They know things about myself that I wonder if I would tell them should they happen to be local friends.
Is this the way we are ushering in the new millennium? Will the 21st century be the era of hardcore singles, cybersex and lonely but horny online buddies? What exactly are we teaching the upcoming generation? Are we teaching them that there is no such thing as happiness and that it is better to remain in an unpleasant situation than to extract yourself from it and try to make things better around you. Often, adults (just like children) learn by imitating the behavior of those around them. Unfortunately, with the amount of disenfranchised souls around, future generations might turn a bit disconnected and a tad unhappy.
Of course it can be difficult to overcome shyness and reach out to strangers, but we need to look beyond the safety of our monitors and do so. In any case, we should also realize that the words we read online are not from a disembodied soul and they can sometimes mean more (or even less) than what they say. By jumping too quickly to conclusion, we project upon our interlocutor our own ideas or spin on things. This can only result in deception. Of course, it is fairly easy to then accuse that person of injecting sophism to muddy the waters, but it would be best to realize that on the contrary, our own reluctance to tear the veil before our eyes induced us in error.
I think that we need to reconnect with people we encounter on a daily basis. I try to do so by offering a smile, a wink or a wave to various people that I meet. Often I compliment strangers or eagerly offer them help. I do not expect anything in return. I am satisfied that I have touched them in some way. I simply try to be the change I wish to see as Mahatma Gandhi as suggested. He also said to believe in something, and not to live it, is dishonest. I am just trying to live a principled life.
La Dee Da Dee Da
25 February 2005
So à propos
Get drunk
One should always be drunk. That's all that matters;
that's our one imperative need. So as not to feel Time's
horrible burden one which breaks your shoulders and bows
you down, you must get drunk without cease.
But with what?
With wine, poetry, or virtue
as you choose.
But get drunk.
And if, at some time, on steps of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the bleak solitude of your room,
you are waking and the drunkenness has already abated,
ask the wind, the wave, the stars, the clock,
all that which flees,
all that which groans,
all that which rolls,
all that which sings,
all that which speaks,
ask them, what time it is;
and the wind, the wave, the stars, the birds, and the clock,
they will all reply:
"It is time to get drunk!
So that you may not be the martyred slaves of Time,
get drunk, get drunk,
and never pause for rest!
With wine, poetry, or virtue,
as you choose!"
Charles Baudelaire
One should always be drunk. That's all that matters;
that's our one imperative need. So as not to feel Time's
horrible burden one which breaks your shoulders and bows
you down, you must get drunk without cease.
But with what?
With wine, poetry, or virtue
as you choose.
But get drunk.
And if, at some time, on steps of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the bleak solitude of your room,
you are waking and the drunkenness has already abated,
ask the wind, the wave, the stars, the clock,
all that which flees,
all that which groans,
all that which rolls,
all that which sings,
all that which speaks,
ask them, what time it is;
and the wind, the wave, the stars, the birds, and the clock,
they will all reply:
"It is time to get drunk!
So that you may not be the martyred slaves of Time,
get drunk, get drunk,
and never pause for rest!
With wine, poetry, or virtue,
as you choose!"
Charles Baudelaire
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