Two Poets

Two Poets

two poets rave

in downtown Halifax

his stride matchers her pace

both knocked by hurly-burly

poems

with all their words missing

our eyes

monitor their molten movements

how he lures verses out from under

                her lovely dress

how she forgets how to swim to him

& the explosion

of stars in each willowy hand

they are all we refuse to ignore

                unrestrained inheritance

two poets rant

in a dingy basement bar

still downtown Halifax

                in their limited light

opening sentences taste the same

as the shiny elastic prayers hidden

in the luxury of our worry

he is an action not taken

& she a simple twist of fate

                perfect bodies

                purple hearts

                parallel pains

two poets

                who unbutton the night

leave everything bare

skip town before dawn

                & we all take the blame

for everything they left behind

**

Vacation has been nice. A good break from the 9 to 5. I intended to devour books, write my face off, and do a ton of creative stuff: if daydreaming counts … I did spend a good chunk of time on my own, breathing and thinking, musing and scheming but I failed to follow through on the ‘plan’ and instead went with the flow. Isn’t that more of what a vacation should be? I do regret not taking more time to write though. I have to get my head back in the game but until this week is over I won’t shove myself too hard for it.

Today’s pecking was fun. I set up a ‘best of’ Matt Mays playlist (to get my soul prepared for my Hubbards get away next weekend), poured myself a ice cold cider purchased from a road trip I took on Thursday with my best bud, and just dug in.  I mentioned twice today how I hadn’t written enough on vacation to two different people so it was time.

Drinks and laughs tonight with friends and then my last day of vacation tomorrow before returning to the work desk but burning through the days so my weekend in Hubbards with friends comes quickly.

Happy Saturday!

In propinquity,

Nic

All My Fears Are Trivial

I don’t believe in resolutions. Well, not anymore. Resolutions, eat better, exercise more often, be kinder, be better … blah blah blah. I believe in intentions.  And not just on January 1^st but 365 days of the year. Life shouldn’t be about the annual clean slate but rather the on-going mission for growth and goodness. But, that’s just me.

For me right now, there are a few areas that require a little extra work on my part but that has little to do with a new year dawning but from circumstance. Isn’t that usually the case? I have meditated on it over the Christmas break and realize my problem areas and am now striving to improve upon them, which includes but is not limited to strengthening the fortress around my heart to prevent impurities in and firming my small but mighty circle of friends. Time to purge the toxins, metaphor intended.

The one exception to the resolution rule this year is I started a gratitude jar. Nothing fancy but today I dropped my first slip of paper inside. I vow to add to it, even on the difficult days, one little thing that brought joy to my hours. I will do this until December 31^st and then hunker down with a celebratory beverage and read them all. 2104 was a difficult one so this is my attempt to remember the good stuff if things go south. It’s Amorian, it’s good for me. I challenge you to do the same. It’s a negativity net if you will. I’ve reached my threshold and my ability to cope with drama and folks who don’t deserve a chapter in my ongoing saga. Simplify, simplify, simplify. Just happens to coincide with a new year but if the need had come in June … same tactic would apply.

2014 had magical moments. Singing on the top of my lungs under the most incredible moon I’ve ever seen with The Killers and my people in PEI, Gord Downie squeezing my hand, watching people I love and/or admire succeed and flourish, beautiful reunions, getting my tattoo, meaningful conversations with my Dad, card tag, good deeds, daydreams, Hubbards in summer, nights at The Carleton, seeing my dearest friends smile and laugh, my Mom’s 80^th birthday, the amazing rock shows and ringing ears, all of the poems and notes and stories I wrote/tried/wanted to write.

I have struggled for a really long time, trying to tap back into my creativity. I was nowhere near as prolific in 2014 as I should have been. I’m sad that I let life and hard lessons get in the way of the words that wanted to be written. I am working my way back to that self. I know, I sound like a broken record but the long cold winter us upon us and I have to pick up my heart, dust it off and put it to good use. I have to turn off the TV and turn on the poetry. I need to make an Open Heart Forgery reading. I need to dig back in, visit the new library that opened in Halifax and have more artist dates that include writing, research and results.

So, here’s to you all making your fresh start, wiping the slate clean, I’m here with you, listing my ongoing intentions, rooting for you, hoping the best for you and smiling when you succeed.  And even if you don’t, when a door closes a window opens. It’ll be okay. Chin up, open heart, and try try again. If we are always doing our best, we can never truly fail.

In propinquity,

Nic

Take It On Faith

I decided after a glorious weekend away to give myself the week off from writing.  I started the prompts and then swiftly abandoned them in exchange for down time in Hubbards.  I did intend to write my last prompt on Saturday but I just didn’t get around to it.  I was too busy enjoying this:

My friends and I had a stunning weekend.  We had a scrumptious lobster dinner at the Shore Club, lounged at our Inn on the patio with a breath-taking view of Hubbards Cove drinking wine, laughing, talking and marveled at sun set.  Before long it was time to hike around the corner, back to the Shore Club and cue up for the Matt Mays show.  I have had the good fortune of seeing him play several times but this particular show was, by far, the most outstanding, the most fun.  I attribute it mostly my companions and to the venue because I always have fun there, it’s impossible not to.  The show itself was a hell-on-wheels rock ‘n’ roll show’.  Young River warmed up the stage and got the crowd primed and are quite good all on their own.  As soon as they were finished we took a few large steps and ended up right in the front for Matt Mays.  While it is true that I the next morning my ears were still ringing from being so close to the front monitors, I was ridiculously stuffed up dangerously close to black lung from the smoke machine but my heart was happy.  There is something heartening about Matt’s music, something that sounds like … well … home.  It feels like home to me and offers the sense that I am right where I belong.  Plus, you can belt the tunes out good and loud in a live setting, even if the long skinny fringes of the singer’s swanky black jacket are poking out your eyes and he’s standing on your purse as he sings into the crowd on the mere edge of the gear box the monitors were resting on.  Needless to say, we left the venue happy and sweaty and elated.  Arriving back to work Monday morning was a slap in the face because I was still slightly jubilant from the weekend away.  It was hard to re-adjust to reality after the overwhelming sense of peacefulness I felt in Hubbards, because I was with warm-hearted humans, because I was breathing easy, because I was in a drama-free zone and I was content.  Best weekend getaway in recent memory.  It was much needed and deeply appreciated by all involved.

On Thursday night is also worth mentioning a small delight.  I was sitting at The Carleton having a drink with my friend Heather.  I was seated at the end of the bar by the entrance and a group of people caught my attention when they entered.  I after doing what I’m sure was a tripe take, he shot me a smile.  I looked at Heather and said, “Is that Charlie Sexton!?”  She shrugged at me and sipped her beer but I was determined to find out.  It turns out it was.  I flexed up my the gonads to cart myself over and say hello.  The singer of 80’s hits like ‘Beats So Lonely’ and ‘Impressed’ towered over me, still sporting those perfect cheekbones, he was quite delighted I knew who he was.   I stood and conversed with him for a few minutes, why he was in Halifax, what he’s been up to and a little about the Arc Angels project he did that I love, he has warm hands and a kind disposition.  What a neat thing to have happened.  Completely random and quite cool. 

So this self-imposed writing hiatus is a little bit painful but my days are long this week and by the time I get home my brain is mush and I don’t really have a spare minute to create anything.  I do scribble, words, thoughts, ideas, and names but it isn’t the same.  I look forward to Friday being over and having five whole days off to relax and open my mind back up to all things creative.  I’m itching to finish ‘Large-Hearted’, so that’s a goal.  Fingers crossed.

I’ll take it on faith.

In propinquity,

Nic

Happy Accident

Happy Accident

Serendipity.  It was the first word; I swear on my wee little life, the first word I saw when I opened the dictionary.  Today’s writing prompt: write a story that starts with a word you pick out of the dictionary at random.  What are the odds that my eyes would fall arbitrarily on a word defined as the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for?  It was pleasant surprise, very serendipitous in fact.  The universe somehow magically manages to connect the dots with happy accidents, like me finding such a fortunately ironic word for a writing prompt exercise, like Isaac Newton’s famed apple dropping from a tree that led him to his musings about the nature of gravitation or like my friend Nan reluctantly attending a wedding reception only to meet the love of her life.  She snuck into the tent out in the middle of a field in New Ross and quietly sat herself at the most inconspicuous table in the back.  She hated her friend’s bride with the fire of a thousand suns but couldn’t bring herself to actually miss what would most likely be the most important day of his life.  While she dressed herself in a simple summer dress and sling back shoes she reminded herself that it is more important to support your loved ones and not judge.  As long as Jack was happy, who was she to disagree.

Under the big top and twinkly lights Nan sat with her legs crossed sipping champagne with a strawberry bobbing at the bottom of the flute  listening to the wedding band play a pleasant version of ‘Stand by Me’.  A voice spoke close to her ear, in a husky masculine tone, “Friend of the bride or the groom?”

Nan stifled a gasp from the chill the mystery man sent down her bare spine.  She cleared her throat and slowly turned to meet her table companion, “The groom.  You?”

He flashed a smile that near blinded her, “Blushing bride.”

Nan’s reply flew nervously out through her lips, “Sorry to hear that.”

Playful laughter erupted from her table’s handsome and unwelcome guest, “Tell me how you really feel?”  He extended his hand and introduced himself, “Carson Morrow, pleasure.”

She took his hand and watched while he placed a soft kiss on the top of her fingers, “Nan Forbes, likewise.”

He stood, straightening out his disheveled tie and looked down to her, “Care to dance, pretty girl?”

It took her a long time to answer because in that one moment staring up at him, she fell in head over heels in love, claiming his eyes destroyed her, “I’d love to.”

And they danced; all night, all the way into the next day and the next.  Serendipity in action. 

I guess my writing prompt isn’t so much a story as it is the account of Nan’s new flourishing romance.  I am so pleased for her, such happenstance to have found Carson on a night when she was certain would be miserable.   Much the same as it was some kind of karmic fate I settled my eyes on serendipity when I sat down to write today.

**

I missed yesterday’s writing prompt because I wasn’t feeling well.  I crashed after work with a raging headache and so I didn’t get anything down.  If time permits today, there may be a double dose of Teapot but if not I won’t beat myself up too much.  Today’s was light and fortunate.  Landing that word is exactly its definition.  Too cool.

Tomorrow is my Friday which I’m happy about.  I look forward to a three day weekend and am happy that it’s finally Hubbards weekend!  I plan to have coffee and chatter with my pal Heather tomorrow after work and I may even get a card tag to Ru out seeing as I got one from her yesterday with a hilarious quote on the cover.  I also received a lovely card from Erica too that meant a lot to me, it feels good to be loved.

I’ve had my soup and soon it’ll be time for green tea and my pear.  Three more hours of this work day and I can go enjoy the sun. Yippee!

I wish you happy accidents all day long.

In propinquity,

Nic

Late To The Party

Today’s prompt (which took me more like 20-25 minutes to write instead of 10 because I was writing as I worked) is to write a scene using an unreliable narrator and give her a cat.

This is what came:

Late To The Party

I promised I would go but I lied.  Well, I didn’t lie per se, I did plan to go but when the time came to embark on the journey to the undesired destination, I flaked. The best decision was to stay home in my sweats, listen to music and scroll through hundreds of delicious recipes on Pinterest that I want to try but will never make.  As you can clearly see, I am quick to make promises I can’t keep.  I admit, I have no follow through. 

I was supposed to be there by 7:30pm.  It is now 8:23pm.  My phone is set on vibrate and is lighting up like a Christmas tree;  texts, voicemails, Facebook messages, tweets, all boasting the same query, “Where ARE you!?”  I delete each notification as I skim without really reading.  Then voice mail. 

Margaret was first, “Nellie Briggs!  How dare you desert your …”

Delete.

Then there was Carol, “I keep telling myself that you’re probably just running late.  Having a wardrobe malfunction or are stuck in traffic.   You better …”

Delete.

And Janine spat out a sour tone, “I can’t believe you aren’t here.  How selfish …”

Delete.

And of course Dawn, my best friend in the whole entire world, “Congratulations Nell, you win.  Never will I ever do a single thing for you again, ever!  You exhaust me and I’m really disappointed this time more than all the other times that you promised you’d show and up and didn’t.  You are a terrible friend, Nellie.  Oh, happy birthday.  The party I threw for you was lovely.”

Replay message.

Delete.

Dawn.  We have been through every major life event together, college, botched life plans, illness, silliness, sadness, celebration, bad boyfriends, bad hair and broken hearts.  Her cat is the almost twin sister to my Marbles, a lazy blue eye-d Ragdoll kitty with a silky color-point coat.  Even she is looking at me with disappointment. 

If these people were my friends they would accept me for who I am.  They should know I have loner tendencies and that I prefer solitude to crowded places and that I like to observe instead of being the center of attention.  I am not adventurous or spontaneous, I work my guts out all day and I just like to relax and take it easy.  How is that wrong?!  I know I can be insensitive to the hardships and demands of others but I live my life for me and do what I want and if I don’t want to do something that’s my choice and no one else’s so they can suck lemons.  Plus, how many other people accept a Facebook invite and say they are going to some stupid Scentsy party or a baby shower and don’t actually go?  Millions.  I’m not the only flake.

Yeah, saying that out-loud does make me sound like an asshole, doesn’t it?

Oh well.  C’est la vie. 

**

TGIF!  I just made plans with my friend Colleen tonight and am contemplating a family gathering tomorrow that is a road trip away.  Feeling a little blue, left over from yesterday and I'm really behind in my sleep but I'm happy the weekend is upon us and next week is a four day week for me leading up to my overnight away in Hubbard to see Matt Mays with friends.  Mmm lobster dinnnner.

I wish you peaceful easy feelings and lots of laughs with those you love.

In propinquity,

Nic

Lonesome Thinking

Lonesome Thinking

I like to eat late

ponder sympathetic stories

and contemplate furtive plans

to prevent catastrophes

my driving thoughts

weighted down by passengers

those rare and remarkable

torn by loyalty and ambition

and then

the ever-present conundrum

to condemn or defend

I like to drink early

deliberate forfeited deceits

and envision surreptitious tactics

for averting calamities

and I might

heave a sigh

allusive but never aloof

I like to forecast

the slow and elegant rise

of exposed situations belonging

to the pained and fraudulent

quixotic philosophies

idealistic rehearsals

I am lonesome when I think

I am silent when I speak

I like to be right but offer nothing

**

I learned a few interesting literary morsels today.  It was reported that Jane Austen will soon appear on the £10 note in the UK.  How frackin’ cool is that?!  I’m almost inclined to ask a UK friend to send me one, with proper compensation of course, just to have one.  I think it’s a marvelous idea.  Cha-ching!

I also discovered that Margaret Atwood has completed a libretto for operatic production that chronicles the tragic life of legendary Canadian poet and actor, Pauline Johnson.  This is super exciting because I know very little about her so I’m compelled to learn more in light of this outstanding news.  I doubt I’ll be in attendance for any of the performances but anything is possible.  Seeing a live opera is on my bucket list.

I confess I didn’t do anything in the way of editing ‘Large-Hearted’.  I was going to last night but I watched a disturbing documentary instead, about a home invasion/murder in Cheshire, Connecticut.  I kept trying to turn it off because it was turning my stomach but I endured the full scope of the story to its end.  It was a complicated tale that involved the death penalty and I’m not even sure I fully believe the details of the crime.  I also don’t think the small town police force did everything they could to save the mother and two daughters who were killed.  My heart ached for them and I truly hope they have found peace.  Egads.  I normally don’t watch that sort of thing but I was too tired to change the channel and got sucked in.  It’s scary, the evil that lurks in this world, it also serves as a stark reminder to seek out the goodness life offers.  Bad things happen to good people and you wish to God you could understand why.  Appreciating life is the only source of survival.  And love.

Yay for Fridays!  I discovered I have a beer in my fridge this morning.  So, tonight, I’m going to go home, change into my comfy clothes, fire up my ‘Large-Hearted’ playlist and start working.  Weather permitting; I am going to take in the Halifax Pride parade tomorrow.  It’s the happiest and most colorful parade I’ve ever seen and rivals every other one we have in this city.  I hope the sun shines so everyone can get out and celebrate.  After the parade, I figure I’ll sit with my pages and keep working.  Eavesdrop a little, people watch and think.  An artist date is necessary.  I look forward to it.

Coming up:  next weekend will mark the 118^th birthday of Halifax/Dartmouth.  In celebration, I’ll be taking in Joel Plaskett’s show on the Dartmouth waterfront avec fireworks.  At least, that’s the plan so far.  And as always, weather permitting.  And THEN, the countdown will be ON for Matt Mays in Hubbards at the Shore Club.  Righteous!  I look so forward to that night away from the city.

Have a great weekend, lovely humans.  Practice random acts of kindness and be good to yourself.

In propinquity,

Nic

Write The Light

I am working slowly on my current story.  Little by little.  I wrote a poem yesterday but it isn’t ready for public consumption, not sure I even like it enough to share it.  How does that happen?!  I think it was one of those rare moments where I tried forcing myself to sound inspired and I simply wasn’t.  I was frustrated, wavering between the right and left brain (as Ruthie often talks about) and I have been so rooted in my not so creative rut that forcing it wasn’t making any magic happen.  The silver lining is that I still put pen to paper and wrote something.  No one said you’d always get a masterpiece.  I know, speaking for myself, it takes more than one clear shot to achieve the desired end result.

In addition to the pages of notes I have and the almost 2000 word count on ‘Large-Hearted’ I have also been thinking about it around the clock despite the fact I’ve not made clear progress.  It’s playing like a movie in my head and the narrator seems to really like me, she’s always chattering but she talks faster than I can jot it down.  My hope is to spend some quality time with her over the weekend and see what happens.  There’s simply no excuse to not be writing since I have a computer in my writing room again.  I am thinking I’ll venture out into the world with her though.  Go eat some lunch, drink coffee and eavesdrop on the masses.  Some of my past dialogue/song lyrics/poetry comes from things I’ve heard people say. 

Work has been steady but I did manage to have a bit of fun last weekend despite the long stretch of rain that we’ve been having.  I went to see Matt Mays, it ended up being indoors at the Cunard Center (not really my favorite venue to see a show)  but was still full throttle.  The Red Bull Tour bus is a cool concept.  They basically took a transit bus and converted it into a fully functioning sound stage that has been touring across Canada, hitting the hometowns of the acts slated to play.  For us, they brought it to Halifax for Matt Mays.  He shared the groovy stage with Young River and The Meds and as usual Matt Mays and Co. pulverized their audience with pure rock ‘n’ roll intensity and irreverent emotion.  It is still heartbreakingly apparent they are still mourning the loss of Jay Smith but they leave you with the sense that the power and belief in what they do for a living and their collective hope keep them afloat, further proving music’s powerful ability to heal.  I wonder how long it will be before he can make it through ‘Chase The Light’ without crying.  I wonder how long it will be before I can listen to ‘Chase The Light’ without choking up.  I have a feeling it won’t be anytime soon.  Their sing-a-long for ‘On The Hood’ (one of my favorite singintothehairbrush songs) was so much fun and required skilled audience participation.  Another highlight for me was them pulling out ‘Terminal Romance’.  So so good.  I’ll be seeing Matt Mays again in August at the Shore Club with friends.  I’m pumped for that.  One of my favorite East Coast bands playing in one of my favorite East Coast locations in Hubbards with my best friend and other amazing humans.  It’ll be a time and it’s also something to look forward to.  But, before that, I’ve got Matt Epp’s CD release to look forward to.  He’s bringing his band and an opening act called French Press to The Carleton on June 23^rd.  If you aren’t familiar with him, you should check him out.  Counting sleeps now!

Matt Mays, Red Bull Tour Bus 2013

For now, I’m just happy it’s Friday and when I go home tonight I know I don’t have to wake up to an alarm and with any luck, it’ll be sunny.  Oh, I also have a new kitty.  I call her Lola.  It’ll take some getting used to, to have another furry creature underfoot.  Sookie has been gone for so many years now I’ve forgotten how altogether delightful a pet is and how pesky they can be.  Getting to know her habits and personality will be fun but my sneezing and the fur-balls, not so much; having said that the good far out-weigh the bad so even though she technically isn’t mine, I’ll care for her like she is.

Come ON end of day!  Spend your weekend with people you love doing things that make you happy.

In propinquity,

Nic