Meet Victoria

She's my new writing partner!  Yep, she's shiny, efficient and everything I've ever wanted in an 'at home' writing pal.  Now I can blog until my guts fall out, write until my heart is content and surf endlessly.  On the internet that is.  I couldn't be happier.  I acquired a wireless printer/scanner/copier with her but it is vexing and I am a tech tard so I'm not sure why it isn't printing since there was a test print in the box when I opened it.  The good folks at Future Shop set everything up for me but the printer situation eludes me.  I called and the young girl who answered told me I needed a USB cord.  That would have been useful information to know when I was there picking everything up.  I will have to get a cord or wrangle someone in my circle who is tech savvy to lend a hand.

Tonight I shall celebrate by drinking coffee while exploring and maybe a bit of live rock 'n' roll before retiring with something Netflixy.   

I am a happy Bean today!  Those few who contributed to this cause by way of birthday and Christmas generosity, I am forever grateful for your love and support.  It is safe to say that when I am finished typing this, I am going to shut down and give Victoria a BIG welcome home hug (one that extends also to my lovely people who made her happen).

Happy Friday!!

In propinquity,

Nic

Destined Woman

Destined Woman

(for Colleen)

in the midst of the original tremble

comes a rough draft of a classic lyric

with sounds as sweet as spontaneous colour

cultivated and managed by a Destined Woman

and set on fire by stars that line up precisely 2x2

reviews decant fluidly from a cluster of caustic critics

lost in a world of deep kisses and beach umbrellas

they say, 'her allure lies in the confines of glorious disarray'

they say, 'she's precocious, thoughtful, an evocative girl'

many are enamored with the Destined Woman

many follow her faithfully into uncharted territory

they harmonize quietly with her melodious message

in the midst of daring to dance in the dark

comes the heart of an Affectionate Witness

a cheery talkative woman wearing a friendship bracelet

caught between calm delight and the things she knows

she reminds the Destined Woman she's as cool as a summer breeze

that 'freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose'

that the dialogue of the faithful and of the Heavens truly exist

that she will elevate high above the hurt and heartbreak warfare

that her destiny is the embrace and gleam of perpetual goodness

the Destined Woman is as loved

as a celebrated and timeless song

the Destined Woman is cadence

the Destined Woman rises and commands an ardent few

the Destined Woman stands in allegiance with thunder

the Destined Woman is surrounded by every particle of pure love

every speck to wash away the regretful melancholy of yesterdays

this poem for the Destined Woman is an occasion 

written by an entertaining raconteur for a heartfelt casue: love

**

This poem was written for my oldest, dearest friend, Colleen.  She turns 40 today, exactly one month after I did.  It can be difficult to choose the perfect gift for someone you've known so long for such a milestone, so I did what comes naturally and I put it down in words.  My life is full of wonderful friends, fabulous women and I celebrate them always for the gifts they give, not on special occasions but each and every day.  I'm happy that my first blog post of 2014 is dedicated to one of them.

Love your people.  Tell them so and celebrate them, not just for the big things but the moments because they add up to something called kinship.

In propinquity,

Nic

Stars Bloom At Scalloped Edges

Stars Bloom At Scalloped Edges

happiness is this, I think

to celebrate a relentless desire

for something that cannot exist

terminal romance summons you upward

just where stars bloom at scalloped edges

of un-borrowed books and minced words

a moment of hesitation is returned affection

and the sharp subject of improvised melodramas  

expressions so quizzical admirers are acquired for

an accommodating view of glittering shambles

easily navigated by naïve hearts of willing praise

happiness is this, I think

to commemorate a constant yearning

for something that is explicitly impossible

contingent on fiction tinging phosphorous truth

among embedded pleasures at scalloped edges

conspiratorial language detonates the soft stars

artless mythology tangles the far side of fading light

but at my firm demand I confess with my reluctant pen

I shudder in the darkness where I hear a name repeated

truth surges until I am an endangered volume of poetry

and it is revealed happiness is nothing that I expected

**

I wanted to work in one last post before we ring in a new year.  Wow, 2013 has flown by like a dream and I have a lot to be grateful for.  I accomplished a great deal of writing this year and am excited for the new stories and poems that will materialize in the coming months.  I saw a lot of great shows this year, live theatre, concerts and attended excellent literary events that propelled me to continue to do the work I am passionate about and that is writing.  Anything else, as I have always said, just pays the bills.

I am certain that 2014 will have its share of challenges and obstacles but I look forward to pursing them, in my 40^th year on this planet, with courage, strength, wisdom and experience. 

Despite a crippling cold that plagued me Boxing Day through this past weekend (the dry cough still persists) I am set to celebrate a new year dawning with champagne, fancy clothes, my good friends and one last Matt Mays show at the Casino.  I intend to do all of this with optimism and with faith in what will fill the days, weeks and months ahead.  No resolutions, just the continued practice of being good, kind, generous, creative and thankful for my blessings.

A very happy new year to you and yours. 

In propinquity,

Nic

Merry Christmas ...

 ... from my memory tree to yours.

Ode To An Affecting Writer From A Foolish Visionary

Excerpt #2 - a poem written by Imelda for Brucha's birthday.

Ode To An Affecting Writer From A Foolish Visionary

I imagine you when you write

with your meticulously tended gardens

old-fashioned virtues and simple metaphors.

I imagine you taking a break for steeped tea

Puttering around in your country kitchen

sipping, thinking, annotating:  creative criterion.

I imagine you when you are set alight

deftly  aware of sunlight’s directional pull

stringing words tightly enough to change a life.

I imagine you completing a plain-song treatise

sublimely fortunate that words did not fail you

reviewing the notion of the beginning, the middle, the end.

It is because you believe words have weight

it is because you inspire the fire of artistic necessity

that I challenge every muscle to achieve solitude and fortification.

Because you write we read.

Because you create we revel.

I imagine you when you write

oblivious to the lucrative wisdom you dispense

into our entrenched sadness and our restlessness.

I imagine you are unaware of your authority, your beauty.

I imagine you imagine yourself so much smaller than you really are.

**

It's coming along, still at a crawl but it's still coming.  I think I may know an ending but I'm still not 100% sure.  This poem was fun to write.

In propinquity,

Nic

Live. Work. Create.

Here is a sneak peak of my current story.  This is a poem that Brucha Beech has written and will soon be published in a literary journal.  

Art Is Making

creating

this is how we open ourselves up to a book

this is how we are certain of art’s goodwill

art is making

art is appetite

this is how we learn to dance to the music

this is how we interpret physical language

art is creating

art is sustaining

this is how we acclaim creative habits

this is how we scratch surfaces for ideas

art is construction

art is exaltation

creating

this is how we continue to live and breathe

this is how we produce perfect propinquity

art is making

art is believing

**

I love these women.  They allow me to share their stories AND write poetry.  Best deal ever.

In propinquity,

Nic

A Poet Dances

What I love most about this current story I'm writing is that while I am getting to flex my fiction muscles, I'm also able to still be an active poet.  Poetry is shared back and forth between Imelda and Brucha in a neat kind of way.  It's been writing verse for each of them and I hope their voices come through.  I am currently working on a poem now but I stopped momentarily for a five minute dance party to shake my snow globe and get my mojo focused.

What am I listening to you ask?  There's a GREAT song on Avicii's record that features Adam Lambert and Nile Rogers.  It's the funkiest thing I've heard in a long time.  It's a truly bitchin' track.  If you love the funk of Chic and Nile's swanky guitar riffs, you are going to love it.  It makes my pants get up and dance and it's a true feel-good song.  I wish I had a whole dance floor to sweep with my two left feet but my writing room rug will have to do.

I have a birthday looming.  It's a big one.  Part of me is scared for me, part of me is proud of me.  I think that I have, in the past few years, grown to be a good person, a better person - from love, loss, lessons, and a wealth of experience. I have really worked on my character,  in being kind and just, I have really come to know the true meaning of goodness and am working now on further cultivation of my spiritual self.  I am still a little scared, of the uncertainty really.  Of reaching an age and knowing that there are still things I desire, I long for but know that I can only achieve those things if I continue to better my person.  And that's the beauty of big birthdays, revelation, contentment and and maturity.  As I head into a new decade of my journey, my focus will be on heart, health and creativity.  

Wish me luck.

Back to writing.  After 'Lay Me Down' with the headphones and to get my groove going.

In propinquity,

Nic