Showing posts with label Matt Epp. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matt Epp. Show all posts

Saturday, December 31, 2016

Exit Poll, 2016


2016 has left me speechless. That's all I can really say today. I plan to ring in a new year with my chosen family, Chinese food, jammies, merriment, belly laughs, champagne, with the same wish in my heart as always: that goodness will prevail.

But, even when the chips are down and the cards are stacked against you, there is music. These, the three songs that got me deep in the heart muscle and shaped my insides:

The Sound by Matt Epp featuring Faouzia - Everything Matt does is a revelation, I discovered this wonderful human being in my Myspace days and it has been so much fun watching him share Amoria and incredibly moving music with the world. He is, hands down, one of my favorite people on the planet. I listen to CBC Radio 2 Morning faithfully and this song is swinging into some heavy rotation and rightfully so. Matt is an artist worth your time. And this song, so deeply resonates with every soft heart that has known love.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HYWVePW6Ovo


The Stranger by Gord Downie - The inclusion of Gord Downie goes without saying. I will keep this to a minimum to not go so deep in to poetics and emotion of all things he means to me because his Secret Path project, his passion project, changing a whole layer of the Canadian landscape. It may be his greatest legacy and I think he'd be okay with that. I still believe, after losing Leonard Cohen this year, Bowie, that Gord will live forever. 




Rehtaeh by Adam Baldwin - It has been a good year for Adam Baldwin musically, off on tour with his exceptional band in support of his new record with July Talk and open here at home for Sam Roberts Band. I stood in the Forum during his set, in awe of the crowd; eyes forward on our Dartmouth brother, singing his words back to him. That has to be a good feeling. And still, in all of the rock splendor, when he pulls out his ode to Rehtaeh Parsons, the gooseflesh pops and the tears form. It's a powerful song and it's beautifully written and executed. Should have one all the awards, and at my gala it did.




**

However you choose to bring in a new year, I wish you well. Hug your people. Be present. Be kind.

In propinquity,
Nic

Friday, February 12, 2016

Old Fever



Old Fever

between a cup of sweet tea
& a bowl of stemmed strawberries
with sour cream and brown sugar
I find myself seized with the longing
for an old fever
that likened me to an astronaut in orbit

we never know precisely what to want

**

With the cupid's holiday looming, one I do not believe in despite it's origins, I pose a poem. A single gal's guide to not looking back, but forward, open-hearted.  I of course am a romantic by nature and have penned my fair share of love poems but Valentine's Day should be observed daily with all relationships, romantic and otherwise. Your people should always feel loved and appreciated and shown, not just told. But that's just me.

Having said all that, I can easily get behind any excuse to exchange chocolate, stationary and other sundry goodness. Just seems so much nicer when they are just because.

I am ending my Friday with a a grande Mint Majesty from Starbucky Bucks (thanks Phil!) and a little jaunt out in the deep-freeze before heading home to hunker down. Snow is expected tomorrow but then Sunday it's Galentine's Day! THAT, is worth celebrating. A gelato date with my best bud to celebrate life, friendship and frozen treats!  It's also a long weekend, holiday Monday, so I have an extra day for reading, loafing and creative thinking. Sounds idyllic, no?

Happy Friday, folks!

I leave you with one of the most beautiful love songs ever written by my amazing friend Matt Epp:



In propinquity,
Nic

Sunday, December 7, 2014

Wish You Were Here


The Heavens claimed him, my Dad.  The days that follow continue to feel surreal and hazy.  My father was a larger than life force.  He was as kind and loving as he was firm and rooted in his firm beliefs that if you apply yourself and work hard, you can have anything you want.  I think that I am still in a little bit of shock.  It feels like he’s away wintering in Florida and he’s coming back.  Although, when my birthday came, a week after his passing, and there was no phone call, I felt the reality a little.  It doesn’t matter that I gathered with my family to kiss him one last time or congregate at the Lions Hall with legions of people who came out to show their support and mourn the loss with us, it still seems unreal.

It was heartening, to see so many people come to help us celebrate his life.  There were so many in fact that he caused quite traffic jam.  The Lions Hall is on Hornes Road and currently in our community there is construction on the main artery so the bulk of local traffic, including transit, travel along Hornes Road.  A friend of mine who works for the city sent me a text message to tell me that complaints were rolling in about the cars parked all along the street and people were really getting frustrated by the jam.  I laughed because there is was again, causing a ruckus.  His last prank and it was glorious.

I delivered his eulogy to a swelling crowd:

For my Dad:

The word ‘eulogy’ originates from the Greeks and it means ‘to praise’, ‘to speak good words’. I have an endless amount reserved especially for this guy.  I was afraid that I may not be able to write and deliver an adequate nod to him because in the hours and days since he’s passed, I felt like I had lost all of my words.  But when I sat down by myself and starting thinking about him, reminiscing and looking at all of the photos, the flood gates opened.  Still, it is hard to find the words to express how much I will miss one of the first people who ever loved me.

Everyone had their own relationship with Dad and knew him in different and unique ways but on each of us he left a deep, lasting impression.  A perfect example of that is a childhood friend of mine was in touch when she heard the news of his passing.  To her, he was an amazing man, and how lucky was I lucky to have him as my father because hers wasn’t much of one.  She told me that my Dad made her growing years so much fun. I know that would make him really happy to hear.

He was a loving husband, a good father, and grandfather, a brother, a role model, a gutsy salesman, a world class entertainer and jokester, and certainly, everyone’s comic relief.  I’m almost positive, as I’ve heard it a thousand times this week, there isn’t a soul in this room he hasn’t barked at at one point or another. You could always count on him for his ridiculous sense of humor and his infectious smile just when you needed it most. 

As a family, it is true that we have experienced our fair share of setbacks, misunderstandings, and real sorrows but for each of them there are a thousand moments of joy and comfort and closeness with Dad at the heart of it.  And I think that his physical absence will be the truest sorrow we’ll ever know, he was a larger than life presence, a big wonderful personality, he was loud and funny and always on the go.

To me, Dad was the promise of a long talk on a short drive.  He was always there listening and good at helping me see things right side up and I relish that there were even times I was able to do that for him too. The quiet assurance of his voice rocking back and forth against my heart while driving around in whatever car he may be in that day or week made me feel safe and valued.  I thought my Dad lit the sky, now he actually does. 

Dad had an appreciation for the good things in life.  He was well traveled and knew a little bit about a lot of things. You could always find him with a strong drink and a good story, pulling a prank, grilling a steak, hitting a golf ball, watching sports or his favorite shows, looking after others.  Some of the greatest gifts he gave to us kids was the ability to appreciate life, to endear ourselves to others with the captivating Myers charm, with a joke, a kind word, an ear, a hand – a sense of humanity, just as he did.  I look at my brothers and sisters and their kids and it is in all of them.  Dad will never truly gone from us because he is in the things we do and say, our gestures and our features.  And we’ll carry him forward with the utmost pride.  It used to always annoy me, you know, when someone would say, ‘Oh, you must be Lawrence’s daughter.  You must be a Myers.’ I wondered if I’d ever have my own identity but I realize now, it’s one of the best parts of it.

Losing Dad was not unexpected but that doesn’t make it any easier.  He had a quiet dignity about dying.  As he faced his final days feeling as miserable as he did, he occasionally lost his good humour but did not dwell in one single moment of self-pity.  During our private conversations when he was in the hospital, talks I will cherish forever, he talked a lot about how rich and full his life was, how much he enjoyed each day and how fulfilling it is to live without regrets and hoped that us kids could all do the same.  I promised him we would, we had excellent leadership despite the fact that he is the guy who as a kid taught the nuns how to roll cigarettes in the stairwell of St Andrews and then was politely asked not to return to school.

It is heartwarming to see so many people here to celebrate Dad’s life because it was such a good life.  He would hate all this fuss and attention on the surface but deep down he’d love it.  I know you all cared for him and enjoyed the life he brought to your parties.  I can tell you with great certainty that he loved you just as much. 

And Carol, from all of us, I want to say thank you for caring for Dad with your love and your compassion and your promise.  I watched you turn yourself inside out for him and I know with every fiber of his being he felt safe and brave because of all you gave and did for him.

A childhood story of Dad’s was relayed to us not long ago about when his mother was going to the hospital to have Aunt Clara, he was just a wee Lawrence then.  She told him that if he was really good while she was away, when she came home she would get him a brand new bike.  Of course, she never did get to come home.  Now that he’s with her, we really hope he got his bike.

**

It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  I could see my one dear friend in my line of sight, otherwise it was just a wall of people with fuzzy faces.  My cousin Cathy stood beside me and I’m grateful she stayed close otherwise I may not have made it all the way through.  I did it for him.  And as awkward as it was holding a microphone in one hand and trying to steady my sheets of paper on the podium, I just kept thinking he could hear me, see me, and I wanted to do him justice.  I’m told I did beautifully but in truth I can barely remember it.


It’s my 41st year, my first year without my Dad.  I don’t know what it’ll bring but I am confident he’ll be close to guide me when I need it.  It is one of the many reasons I agreed to spend my birthday afternoon getting a tattoo that represents something important to me, something I believe in.  Dad would dig the concept of ‘Amoria’ – living with intention to love and serve others, Amoria, the Empire of Love, with no physical location but something that is in all of us.  My good friend and extraordinary artist Matt Epp spearheaded the movement and I hitched my wagon to it in a heartbeat.  It’s simple really, love can really rule the world if we allow it to.  I am proud to be Amorian and will happily explain the ink to anyone who asks.  It is for me, it’s for Matt, my Dad and the world I live in.  It is my intention to carry on, to move forward in love, to share that with my people and the world and to carry on my Dad’s memory. 



The world is going to be so different without him in it, but my goodness, Heaven is lucky.

In propinquity,

Nic

Sunday, October 5, 2014

The Sequestered


My pieces are scattered.  I am all over the place.  Emotionally.  Practically. Creatively stunted.  Lost. This past week all of the pieces of my life twisted and bruised and frayed.  Overwhelmed, I was accused of uncharacteristic behaviour, I was hurt, I was angered, felt strained and fell into a few days of sickness that were lost to misery and sleep.  It could have been I caught something on my travels but if I know my body and my heart like I do, I am guessing I wore down, broke down and succumbed to the struggles.  It happens.  I know I am not alone there.

I am doing my best, my very best.  I am trying to keep my chin up, muddle through the worry and to honour what is asked of me and expected.  It is a difficult task when you feel adrift and you have no idea how to reach the shore.  Safely.  Without capsizing.

I am feeling better today.  I got outside, bought some stationary, bought tea, bought trinkets for Halloween.  It helped.  More than I can mention.  I even wrote a sappy little poem while eating tomato soup with crackers, listening to Matt Epp records.  I thumbed through my worn dictionary, took time to appreciate words and the solitude of it all.  It felt good, like home, like healing.  Sort of.

This was the result of spending time alone:


The Sequestered

‘what will survive of us is love’ – Philip Larkin

the moment you wake up
in the middle of the night

quietly hopeful talking in bed
a snare of soft supple syllables

you place your kiss on my face
charming and tender and civil

in the blue hour of morning
the moment you find sleep

your throat humming low
slowly alerting me awake

just an ordinary woman
just an ordinary gentleman

the sequestered
the harmonious
                two blending

imperfect is a passive paradise
when true romance is vanquished

**
Speaking of Matt Epp, he's releasing a six song EP called 'Luma' in a few days.  20% of his CD sales world wide will be going to Save The Children.  He was inspired by the efforts of Alicia Keys and is following suit. He is such a good human.  Make sure you go take a listen and support.

In propinquity,
Nic








Monday, July 29, 2013

He Rose, Stretched, and Sighed


He Rose, Stretched, and Sighed

the trainspotter came
perched himself on the
edge of a tumbledown stool
to recite his insides etched
into a soft parade of journal pages

the poems became part of the walls
illuminating secrets behind the sun
his hope and panic commanded little

enthusiasm

unashamedly shrewd
the carousing scene-maker
working strictly in metaphors
unapologetically hit the ceiling
when editors meditated on his
black corduroy jacket instead

he rose, stretched, and sighed

exited clunking his heavy boots
unsung art tucked tight under arm
cursing under his tobacco pant
slurred and strange to conventioneers

a poet’s fire

a poet’s ire

**

It's a rainy Monday.  Again.  I flaked on all writing duties this weekend.  However, I just discovered the full scope of a new character's name for my third short story with the working title, 'Too Much To Contain'.  My friend Matt Epp helped me name him when I took to Facebook for help.  Today, I randomly clicked on something, a slight secret discovery and alas his whole name is complete.  I love when things fall into place. Sometimes it pays to play around and waste mindless time on the internet.  

I did enjoy my weekend.  Friday evening I wasn't feeling the best so when I arrived home from work I collected pillows and a blanket, thew on my jammies and curled up for movies.  I watched the Canadian made hockey flick 'Goon' and then got into some really heavy cinema but taking a second stab at 'Zero Dark Thirty'.  Quite a heavy film but really well done.  On Saturday ventured over to Halifax, had a bite of lunch at The Carleton and watched the 2013 Halifax Pride Parade.  It's such a delightful parade, upbeat, colorful, full of music, cheer, love, acceptance and well ... pride.  Tens of thousands of people came out to support the parade. Always such a tremendous event.  I love that I live in a city where who you love is your own business.  My LGBT friends and yours deserve the same rights and courtesies we expect as a heterosexuals. Love is love is love.  It was a fun day.  Sunday I meant to do some writing but I was out enjoying the sunshine with Erica, her girls and her Mom.  We ran errands and grabbed wings for lunch and by the time I got home I was too tired and brain dead to get any editing done.  My bad.  Bad writer.  I blame summer. The heat!  Not my fault.  How do you spell denial? N.I.C.O.L.E.  Ha!

A wee poem to start the week.  Let's get this crazy creative train back on track!  It's a new day.  A new week.  I should set realistic writing goals for myself.  I should.

In propinquity,
Nic

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Knots


Knots

the length of a nautical mile
is identical to a minute of latitude

in uncharted waters

loops and kinks weaken strapping cord
old worn rope damaged by sunlight

at the bottom of the mountain

sore strained grieving muscles
latent trigger points overwrought

below aching flesh

the beautiful code of a versatile metaphor
interlaced with the mysteries of love

that beat in a heart

found loneliness precipitates ever-long
bare hands reach up for a speculative lift

to scale toward the Heavens

Northeast-bound bow heaving toward an address
stern slick and graceful for long uninterrupted hours

fully rigged sailing vessel asea

arms outstretched for the concluding embrace
the absence of substance pressing into bones

for remnants of human attachment

knots
troublesome

intricate arrangement of tender places
sudden intervention of constructive trust

knots
            they bind

they blind

**

So, here's the skinny.  I came home the last two nights determined to battle the block I'm currently experiencing.  The first night I read a bit of Carol Shields and Alice Munro while listening to Matt Epp and Diana Krall.  I then scribbled.  Last night I went for a walk on Rainbow Haven beach with my friend Donna to try and clear out the cobwebs.  I got the pant legs of my yoga pants wet because I couldn't outrun a wimpy wave.  It felt good.  Scribbled a little more. Tonight, I came home through this sudden humid heat-wave the east coast of Canada is experiencing ate gross hotdogs because it was too hot too cook much else and watched 'Tragically Hip in Bobcaygeon'.  Got goosebumps and maybe cried a little.  While trying to stay hydrated I pieced together the scribbles and came up with this poem.  Good, right?!

Get this.  While I still haven't managed to seep back into 'Large-Hearted' mode, I actually walked into TWO more story ideas.  What the french toast!?  One of the ideas scares me a little bit so I'm not sure how that one is going to go.  It stems from a dream I had not long ago.  The majority of my dreams of late have been twisted like pretzels.  I haven't been sleeping very well and so when I am sleeping I'm conjuring up all this insane garbage including revisiting an ex to discover he murdered someone and made art out of his victim's bones and this insane doctor injecting my niece with poison.  I'd be afraid to have them analyzed.  I mean geez.  The other one, which shocked me out of my sleep is going to be hard to write.  I don't know when I'll get to it but it'll come.  And, the other idea is light and fuzzy so fear not.

I'm melting so I must go re-fill my icewater and sit in front of a fan to stay cool until I go to bed to toss and turn.  Silver lining?  Tomorrow is Friday!  Yay!

In propinquity,
Nic







Monday, June 24, 2013

Learning To Lose Control

Matt Epp at The Carleton, June 23rd, 2013


I feel as though every time I write about Matt Epp I sound like a big ol’ sappy broken record.  But, my vastly talented friend from Winnipeg deserves the accolades, the praise; he deserves world domination.  There simply is no one else like him, Matt Epp is an exceptionally rare artist who fortifies his audience and writes songs that reach into the core of your humanness and culls the best of you out and upward.

This was a unique visit to Halifax for Matt.  He’s fond of Halifax and said he’s never come for a show without at least spending a week.  This time, his band van pulled up in front of The Carleton at the same time we did to secure good seats for the show, sip on sangria and enjoy each other’s company.  Watching bands load in, I always feel bad, like I should be grabbing a bag of cords or a guitar case to heave in.  It comes from carrying gear for my brother throughout the years.  My friends and I sat and nibbled on our fine food and drink while the band busied themselves with turning the tiny Carleton stage into ‘Amoria’ complete with Turkey’s flag, a sign of love for Matt’s wife who hails from that country and as a sign of solidarity for their people who are facing trying times. 

I had a few minutes before leaving for the show to listen to a few songs by French Press, Matt’s opening act.  I was impressed with her songwriting style and the unique loveliness of her voice.  Her live performance did not disappoint.  She performed for us a set of songs she sang beautifully with an acoustic guitar and won the room over with her delicate presence and her talents.  Our table was in unison, unanimous in that we predict big and wonderful things will happen for Chantal Emond.  She is graceful and lovely and added those exact qualities to an already exceptional group of traveling musicians.

It was wonderful to be present for Matt’s Halifax return because he brought with him his brand new record ‘Learning To Lose Control’.  This tour was in support and celebration of a record that hundreds of people made possible.  To make this record, Matt enlisted the help of his fans, family and friends.  Using online fundraising to reach a specific goal in order to pay for the recording etc.  With each donation he created this fantastic youtube ‘thank you’ videos to each and every person who put money in the pot to pre-order the record.  I was so pleased to see him reach his goal that allowed him to release such a tremendous record.  It’s beautiful.  The songs, the artwork, the packaging.  Simply gorgeous, an important extension to his already inspiring and indelible body of work.

The last time he played at The Carleton it was just he and his guitar.  This time around, he brought his band, The Amorian Assembly’ with him.  In addition to his most excellent bassist Joel Couture, he had The Wooden Sky’s drummer and a guitar player called Mike Tuyp (tagged as ‘The Best Tuyp’) with him.  Delightfully, Chantal Emond joined them all for the duration of the show, her voiced added such a beautiful texture to the new songs and the ones I love from his past efforts.  It was a full, vibrant sound with Matt’s soulful voice at the helm.  Together, they played several songs off of ‘Learning To Lose Control’ and a handful of his best songs and there are many.  I was particularly pleased that he played ‘Too Cool’ from his ‘Safe or Free’ record.  It was one of the first songs that really drew me into his music so it has a special place for me.  During the song last night I was busy jamming in my seat, singing along as happy as could be, so much so Matt acknowledged my singing from the stage.  It’s just one of those songs you can just groove to, feel the salt of the earth absorb into your soul, it just takes you like a wave and you’re surfing on its crest in complete peace.  And really, that’s what I derive from all of Matt’s music, peace.  Inner peace.  It makes every fiber of my being feel content and blessed to be alive.  That’s the power of good music, the architecture of a passionate artist.  Matt is indeed one of those.

He took a moment in the night to speak about Jay Smith, the grave loss we all feel, he shared some of his thoughts and feelings, but mostly he remembered Jay for being an exceptional songwriter and broke into ‘Romantic Fool’.  I sucked back the tears but felt the love filter through the room.  Further proof that the strength in music does indeed sustain us, it lets us feel every single thing as we should because life is emotional and painful and joyful and ongoing and most importantly, it aids us in our healing.  It’s altogether poignant and beautiful.  Needed, crucial and life affirming.  I am certain that Jay was there in every note.  He certainly was in our hearts.

It was another night of absolute elevation for me.  I really respect and believe in the music Matt writes and shares.  He is consistent with his positive essence, his innate storytelling ability and his reasons to rock.  One of my favorite Canadians brought a new record, a superb band and the love of music with him.  If you weren’t present, you missed out.  Truly.

I left the bar not only inspired, peaceful and blessed but full of a great sense of creative purpose.  I showed up with dear friends for a dear friend and came away a little bit of a better human being for having been there.  If music is magic, Matt Epp is an efficient magician who dazzles and dares one to delve deep, for love of self, each other, God and the world.  For those things am ever grateful and continue to revel in his work and pay it forward any chance I get.  He deserves that.

The Carleton really is the best venue in Halifax for live shows.  I am a big believer in the ‘listening room’ concept and really appreciate that I can spend my money on a show and as a serious music lover, sit and listen without having to hear people banter over the band.  I want to experience a song, an artist when I buy a ticket.  I can do that at The Carleton and it’s amazing.  Major props to the owners and staff for always being so hospitable and for booking world class artists like Matt Epp.

‘Learning To Lose Control’ is a phenomenal record.  It even features Serena Ryder.  It’s available on iTunes and if he comes to your town, at the merch table.  I know you’ll want to add it to your music library.  Be warned, if you buy one record, you’ll want them all.

In propinquity,
Nic

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Fretful Woman


Fretful Woman

a fretful woman
a wild azalea

veering toward blessedness
smeared in a thick film of devotion
draped in soft sheaths of loyalty

she can see the moon blindfolded
above the luxurious spring woods
but you are impossible to convince

& you remove her from time

your irrepressible need 
to have the upper hand

has become everything for nothing

she

a fretful woman
a wild azalea

has become the thunder of the storms
has become a torch song of burning love

you with your cigar
her with her wine

an exemplary fantasy

a fretful woman
a wild azalea 

has overcome every poem she's written
because of your reactionary philosophy
because of the changes in the weather

a fretful woman
survives

despite you

**

Forbearance.  I’m fortunate to be a patient creative.  My current foray is taking it’s good old time materializing.  I’m still listening for the whispers, the answers, with my eye on the world for outside inspiration.  Zelda Grady, the narrator of ‘Large-Hearted’ is still looking for clues, for answers and I trust that when she has more to share, she’ll share.  It’s also a dire challenge to write a story within a story.  I’m literally writing two stories at once.  I fear I’ll be editing for a very long time and I may even outsource the task to a willing participant to make sure that I’m not missing any of my mistakes this time around.  I’ll pay in a bottle of wine or a reasonable substitute (chocolate, coffee etc) if you’re willing.

I finished this girl power/self affirming poem this morning when I was supposed to be cleaning my room.  There’s always tomorrow.  Writing comes first, right?  I broke open my treat I bought at the Freak Lunchbox yesterday, a Cadbury Curly Wurly, streamed Matt Epp’s new record (which I will OWN tomorrow when I go to his show!) and finished playing with the structure and the lines, adding and subtracting and tidying it up.  I sat back and re-read and found myself nodding, that’s how I know it’s time to share.  Poetry sometimes cuts into my prose writing but I don’t altogether mind because I am writing and there’s no rush, I’m not under any deadlines and I’d prefer a story to come slowly so I don’t feel rushed.  I am certain that Zelda has my back so I’m quite content.  I do look forward to you all being able to meet her.

Lovely Saturday.  It was hot and sunny when I woke up this morning.  It’s a little overcast right now but I am hoping that it’ll brighten up again and get out of the house and be out in the world.  I’m enjoying my four day weekend.  Passport business was completed yesterday as well as a few other things I can’t get to when I’m working weekdays until 4:30pm.  I had a good lunch at The Lower Deck, pecked at my story, did a crossword in pen and nursed a red beer then got my hair cut.  I bought myself a leave in conditioner from the ‘Milkshake’ line that smells like chocolate.  It’s delicious and is lightweight which works better for my hair.  I can’t wait to shower just so I can spray it in.  Nom.

ONE MORE SLEEP UNTIL MATT EPP!!!

Happy Saturday to you.  Sing at will.  Hug people.  Read a poem.  And have fun.

In propinquity,
Nic

Thursday, June 20, 2013

Hello, stars.


Hello, stars.

If you wish it so
I will shape every

lovely word

quietly congregating
in your warm heart

set them into the stars

so that the keenness
of their true meaning

might whisper
                in your ear

whenever darkness falls.

Only if you wish it so.

**

A little poem off the cuff.  Slightly romantic but nothing special.  Just a few thoughts, a few words on something that resembles love and loyalty.  Two things I believe to be precious commodities, two things that are far too rare.

So, it's John Taylor's 53rd birthday today.  Yes, that John Taylor, from Duran Duran.   I have a lot of love and deep respect for him.  In addition to being the wallpaper on my adolescent bedroom walls, he has served (both in Duran Duran and his solo efforts) as a huge portion of the soundtrack of my life.  Not only with his music but the music I was turned onto because he liked it.  Same can be said about art, books and films.  I love how inspiration is, a long succession of moving sentiments passed down from one blown mind to another.  I admire his creative spirit, his fortitude, is attitude and his art.  I am grateful mostly though because through him, his decisions and and music, I met some of the most incredible people who live in all corners of the world, who have become my extended family, my heroes.  These women and few men remind me that this big crazy world is still beautiful and that there are always things to be grateful for even when the chips are down.  I have watched these people get married, have babies, be present to celebrate their accomplishments, support them with hardships; and for the few we've lost, Bec and Lisa, we remember.  The friendships I have formed have elevated my life, made me better and they continue to inspire me to be better still.  John Taylor made all this possible.  That, is a beautiful thing.  He is the man.  And for that and because he's just a good egg, I wish him a very happy birthday today.

It's the eve of my four day weekend.  I took vacation days tomorrow and Monday.  I have some errands to run, one of which is to apply for a passport.  After I hit publish on this little ditty I have to do my check-list:  birth certificate, passport photos, form fully filled out and most importantly my money.  The goal is to take a week-long trip south with friends as a late birthday present for myself and my friend Colleen.  My birthday is in December, hers is January, exactly one month apart.  For this milestone, we're planning a girls getaway in the Spring of 2014.  Sad to say that it'll be my first official grown-up vacation.  A real vacation.  Exciting stuff.  That's the current plan.  Who knows what next year will bring.  If all else fails, I'll hop on a plane west and go visit Ruthie, one of my most important comrades gained from the Taylor times.  Anything is possible.

On the writing front, I got another little chunk written this week.  Slow going but I'm enjoying the process.  I'm hoping these four days off will be productive.  And of course, this is Matt Epp weekend!  Sunday night at The Carleton!  Yayayayayay!  I'll be on inspiration overload Monday, just you wait and seeeeee.

Still feels like a work night because I'm pooped.  Brewing a small cup of vanilla tea and crawling into bed.  I won't turn the TV on tonight, instead I'll use the time to reflect, count blessings and send my prayers up.

Hug your people.  They need you.

In propinquity,
Nic

Friday, June 14, 2013

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 23rd.  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

Monday, May 27, 2013

SoCal Rescue


SoCal Rescue

a house in Laurel Canynon
full of Joni Mitchell records
walls lined with used books
hazy artists roaming the halls

&

the smell of slow burning incense

saved my life

**

Poopy Monday.  I'm still tuckered out from staying up too late on Saturday night.  3am is waaaaay too late for me anymore.  I've ceased being a party animal and while I still love to have fun and enjoy myself, late nights destroy me now.  I spent most of yesterday yawning and fighting to stay awake so I would actually sleep through the night.  I settled in really early, watched 'The Dark Knight' and passed out cold.  I'm still a bit loafy tonight but it was worth it being able to help dear friends celebrate their engagement.  I am going to treat myself to a few new episodes of 'Arrested Development' after I finish a second stream of Matt Epp's new record 'Learning To Lose Control'.  It's MASTERFUL.  I am FULL of goosebumps.  I can't WAIT for his show in June.  His work is so beautiful and soulful, he always inspires me.  I always like to think of my heart was made of music it might sound like his work.

Just a wee poem today.  To the point.  Simple yet heavy.  If you feel this poem, you know exactly what it means.

In propinquity,
Nic

PS - I didn't write much else today.  I opened 'Hardscrabble' to correct a few typos and add a few bits just before my day ended.  It's still in the front of my mind.  I can't wait to write more!




Friday, May 3, 2013

Keep Calm and Write Something



My current work in progress, ‘Mute’, has been a slow meandering process.  I have been side-tracked by real life and so a lot of the time lately I have had lots of thoughts, notes and mini meltdowns but just not enough energy and/or time to get everything down on paper.  What’s more, this story is not unfolding like any of the others I have written in past months.  I am writing sections all out of order and while I find that to be a daunting task, it’s been a fascinating challenge.  This story is also requiring me, courtesy of my characters, to write outside of the box.  I have written a few different things that are important to the scope of the story (at least that’s what my characters are telling me).  It’s coming in small parcels and not in a linear fashion which requires me to ponder and ask them a great deal of questions.  There are always surprises.  I love that about writing, the unknown.  It certainly keeps me on my toes.  I do look forward to when this one comes together and I am able to share it with you.  For now though, they remain all mine.  I can say with all honesty that I don’t mind that so much either.  Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that I belong to them?

It’s Friday.  After a long work week, I hope to regain my lost artist date from last weekend and get out somewhere tomorrow in the sunshine, settle somewhere with my pen and my fictional friends and see what else comes up.  My artist dates are my saving grace, they truly are.  I also have some letters to return so my pen moving in that regard will also fuel up the creative tank, it always does.

I could have shared a poem today but it’s not the polished diamond I want it to be yet so I will save it for another day.  I may even tuck it in my writing book for tomorrow and polish it while out in the wild (so to speak).  No written words today save the bloggy ramblings but it’s a new month and I’m plugging away carefully at my current project, careful to not let the weighty elements of real life stifle my flow.  The characters are still with me so that must be something, yes?

In other news, I reserved tickets for Matt Epp’s return to Halifax at The Carleton on June 23rd.  I will be accompanied by two of my dearest friends and my sister for this show.  I look forward to this show because it’s his CD release and he’s coming with a great artist called French Press to open for him.  I hold Matt’s work in the highest esteem and regard him as one of the most tender and enlightened artists in Canada.  His shows, for me, equal certain inspiration, absolute spirituality.  His work is uplifting and I’ve really enjoyed watching him soar from his early beginnings in Winnipeg to being so well respected and received, working with other world class talents and sharing his gifts, his love for music and his eternal goodness with us.  In addition to Epp’s show, I have Old Crow Medicine Show on May 31st to look forward to, The Standfields at Casino NS the very next night and Matt Mays will be rocking the Halifax waterfront on June 8th with the Red Bull Tour Bus.  There’s nothing like a good dose of live music to whip my creative senses into a wild frenzy.  What makes it all that much more amazing is I’ll be dancing the nights away with some of my best people.  That makes my heart happy.

It’s Friday.  The sun is shining.  The evening ahead will be spent with some of my other best people and then hopefully a restful sleep for my artist date adventure tomorrow.  Maybe I’ll even see best people tomorrow if I’m lucky.

Keep calm and weekend on!

You can tell everybody this is your song …

In propinquity,
Nic

Oh, and a BIG birthday shout out today too to Jeff 'Wise One' MacNeil, UBER talented musician and all around jovial guy.  Sure do miss seeing him play.

Sunday, April 28, 2013

Suggestible Minds



Suggestible Minds

allow me to welcome you
to stark minimalist staging
for composed ambiguity
& deceitful aural textures

whatever you do
do not look down

do not brave heavily armed
acquisitions with indifference

at least not of
your own volition

obey to expectations
willfully accept truths

allow me to address you
amply kept audience
on the acquired habits
of conscious conformity

suggestible minds
do not think for yourself

premise of absolutes
attempts to isolate

empirical measurements
are impossible to forecast

when you cannot deliberate
with your own private apathies

suggestible minds
orchestrated purposefully

suggestible minds
manipulated willfully

resonant frequency likely

**

As it always happens, the weekend flew by.  After a particularly rough Friday I arrived home to a pot of stew and Hannah overnight and a visit with Erica.  All, delights that eased my stressful noodle.  I slept like a log too because I knew I didn't have to wake up to an alarm.  Instead, I woke up organically, to the sun streaming in my window and ventured out for the day with Erica, enjoying a lunch and some retail therapy but I was mostly just happy to be in her company.  That was followed by a girls night of sorts at my eldest sister's abode.  Against my better judgement, I drank wine and I knew I shouldn't have because I was battling a headache I've had since early Thursday morning.  Because I indulged, I ruined my Sunday.  I mapped out a perfect artist date for myself.  Halifax in the sunshine with writing and browsing and peacefulness.  Instead I woke up with a migraine and wasted a whole gorgeous sunny day resting so my raging headache would subside.  Disappointed in myself for not heeding my noodle's needs prior to the wine consumption.  Lesson learned.

I'm feeling much better now but still have a dull ache hovering around the eyebrow area.  Just enough to be annoying.  I bought a new tea yesterday, Sleepytime Vanilla.  I just made myself a cup after finishing my laundry and preparing my lunch for tomorrow.  I found enough energy to tweak this poem  I started scribbling mid-week so I could at least feel like I was somewhat productive.  The tea is yummy and perfect for bedtime.  It's my new favorite thing.

Other delights of the weekend:  coming home from work on Friday to a swanky postcard from Haley and my amazon order that included the new David Sedaris book and the book about the song 'Hallelujah' I've been eyeing since Christmas.  I'm armed now with tons of reading material to get me through the next little bit.  I've read a few pages of each book already and I can't wait to get through both of them.  I plan to savor each though because David's stuff is SO good that when I'm done I'm always sad.  His stuff is incredibly smart and funny, so much so that sometimes I make a fool of myself if I'm reading it on my commute home.  I often take to laughing out-loud on the Metro.  Books, good books, rule.

As I prepare to retire for the evening I realize that while I am already missing Hannah being here, her silliness, our 5 minute dance parties and snuggles, I have so much to look forward to in the next while.  A lot of it is music, shows by Old Crow Medicine Show, The Stanfields at the Casino, Matt Mays on the waterfront which also coincides with Kiersten's visit and then Matt Epp at The Carleton come the end of June.  There's even an engagement party in there too.  I also have to get photos done for my passport application for next year's trip.  That time won't come soon enough.  I need out of dodge.

My goal for this week is to complete my current short story, eat better (because I've been bad again), exercise at least 30 minutes each day and try to get enough sleep.  Attainable goals, yes?  I think so.

My headache and I bid you a good night and successful, sunny week ahead.

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream ...

In propinquity,
Nic

PS - Poem's moral?  Think for yourself and be mindful that when you use your words, choose them wisely.  Sometimes they hurt even when you don't mean for them to.






Sunday, December 9, 2012

Cup Of Light


It's a perfect Sunday.  It started with a delicious birthday brunch with my dear friend Sherrie.  We are both December babies so we decided this year to do a brunch together to celebrate being alive and the comforts of friendship over a decadent meal.  We dined at The Vines in Dartmouth, most noted for their Italian fare but also for their Sunday brunch.  The atmosphere was cozy and food was fabulous.  We talked over coffee, laughed while enjoying the ambrosia of culinary delights and posed thankful over a sinful bit of dessert.  We exchanged gifts and gratitude.  So lovely.  My friends truly are my estate.

It is also a perfect Sunday because it is a rare day to be at home alone.  I busied myself with a few domestic tasks and now I am parked next to a sunny window, with a cool breeze sneaking in.  The air around me is full of the sweet sounds of Matt Epp's voice and the fragrance of tea, Santa's Secret from David's Tea, one of the few teas Erica gave to me for my birthday.  And of course, with all of these beautiful elements, I finished editing my latest poetry offering, 'Cup Of Light'.  I also started working on another new piece.  You can't hope for better than days like today.

Cup of Light

when a word is beautiful

written on a piece of paper
folded up inside of a book
effervescent fonts surge in
a gentle stream of grace
from the protective pages

when discovered

& is approximate to a
cup of immaculate light

scribes leave tiny traces
words laid down safely
& some expire without ever
being passionately admired

when a word is bountiful

shrouded in the pall of privacy
secretly stashed away in shelves
full of soldier straight volumes
it longs for unbridled sovereignty

to respire
to delineate
to irradiate

a cup of magnificent illumination

one perfect word
one impeccable light

**

I will spend the rest of my afternoon working in something new, working away at a mountain of laundry I've been ignoring.  And perhaps a little bit of TV for company while I put the finishing touches on the Christmas tree.  It was decorated yesterday afternoon but still needs the icicles.  I have some catching up to do on my favorite shows so it's a possible plan but not before poetry!  Writing comes first.

Wherever your weekend took you, I hope you were among friends and you were smiling.

I'll see you on the flip-side, friendly readers.

In propinquity,
Nic

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Mash Up



It’s been an incredible week for me as far as music is concerned.  This time last Sunday evening I spent a peaceful evening soaking up Matt Epp’s acoustic excellence and last night I had the face blown right off my head with a rousing show at the Sea King Club care of The Stanfields.  With friends present, cheap beer sloshing around in my hand I stomped, sang and was blown away by the balls out, fist-pumping grit only The Stanfields can provide in the way of their distilled cocktail; punk hues, Celtic rock gumption and blistering delivery.  Their new record ‘Death & Taxes’ is a fiery collection of songs that stay true to all the dirtiest drunks in the history of liquor.  My favorite changes on every listen but the title track is just simply awesome and just as explosive live.  The Stanfields are a gang of rock warriors who band together to … well … show their chops and get you drunk off your arse with their wares.  They succeed in spades.  They are kicking off their tour with Gloryhound sharing the bill.  If they roll into your town, do yourself a favor and line up.  I dare you.

I have rock ‘n’ roll hangover today but managed to have a great brunch date and time to polish a new poem that I’ve been pecking at for a few days.  One of my newer pieces appears this month in Open Heart Forgery.  I’ve been following the American election as well as the politics on Canadian soil as well as our mayoral election that is looming.  Politics are a conundrum.  Everyone strives to be right, strives for the power, and will lie cheat and steal to get it.  I fear for the American people of Mitt Romney takes office.  Obama may not be a perfect President but allowing the GOP to take control will throw the nation back to the stone ages.  Scary that we live in a world where things like women’s rights and topics such as birth control are even up for discussion, being talked about by uneducated dolts who believe a woman’s body shuts the potential for pregnancy if she is raped.  Unreal.  Someone missed sex ed in grade school?  Let’s see how they’d feel if it were their daughters.  I’m of the opinion that people have the right to be who they are, love who they desire, pray to their chosen entity all with equal human rights and health care.  Seems like common sense to me.  Yeah?  Big business, war and the un-ending struggle to be the most powerful over-shadows our basic human need to live peacefully and happily.  Nothing is more certain than death and taxes.  Pun intended.

So, I wrote this poem in response to the overwhelming intake of political information of late and submitted it for the October issue of OHF.  Always such an honour to be published with other great local writers:


Mash Up

passionate discussion
unforgettable impression

pos.

derisive laughter
oppressive tradition

neg.

formal constraints
avant-garde aesthetic

opp.

illustrated audience

a mirror morphs into
a magnifying glass

advance your own agenda

subtle seize
visceral shock

muddled melee
tender tussle

true/false
right/wrong

&

the dangers of all
the things we take

for granted

**

Just as a reminder, if you live in the Halifax area, you can find copies of Open Heart Forgery all over town, in cafes, coffee houses, lobbies, nooks and crannies everywhere.  You are encouraged to forge it, share it and do it all over again the following month.  It’s such a brave and inspiring undertaking and so good for our area. I love stumbling across it when I’m in my travels.  Everyone needs a little poetry.

I wouldn’t typically share two poems in one post but as I said, I’ve been pecking at this new one now for a few days and feel like I’m ready to share it.  It sprung up after a quiet night I spent by myself, thinking.  Take from it what you need to but it soothed a deep ache that cropped up and surprised me.  My response to it was to write it out.


Wave of Staggering Loss

there is a detached mercy
that cannot be seen in us

as we stare into
self-descriptive sunlight

we are guided
perhaps misled

while reaching to accept
a wave of staggering loss

permissible
& audible

in a conflagration
of svelte language

intended to disarm
intended to defuse

unbendable nightmares

choreographed
by a nettled stir

converged
with a downward rapture

all designed to
question our brio

in accordance with
a degree of controversy

loss

our deconstruction
our keen denial

versus

our normative truth

**

And there you have it, a little of this and that, a little bit of poetry and now I’m going to set my iTunes to a new and awesome set-list I’ve prepared to aid me while I try my hand at making homemade fudge.

Hope your Sunday was full of love and peaceful feelings.

In propinquity,
Nic