decomposing light: Day 49

About Me

Fury wrapped in a daffodil. Sweetheart in a flak jacket. Raging. Radioactive. A hummingbird. Cuddly as a jellyfish. These are some of the ways people have described me over the years. Really though, I’m a girl from the middle of somewhere. A prairie girl transplanted to the west coast, where the sea, sky, rain forest and mountains converge. Cats, Camellias, Sekiyama Cherry Blossoms, Magnolias, lemons, Rebecca Solnit, CBC Radio One, The Vinyl Café are some of the things I love.

I think we take too many pictures, have an addiction to impatience and a tendency to overindulge. I think we have an obsession with beauty, one which drives us to suffocate and destroy the things we find most beautiful. We’ve forgotten that all things keep on blooming, going to seed and decaying. So we try to capture the pretty moments and things, only to discover that in doing so we become rapists and pillagers, and fail to appreciate the beauty and pretty and joy we so hungrily seek.

I speak the language of loss. I think too much, perhaps. I introvert a great deal. I have an orange tabby named Ginger Baker. More accurately, he has me. I frequently crave a juicy cheeseburger, a really bad B horror movie, and a crisp sunny day when streams of sunlight gush through the glass balcony doors. I have a thing for gouache paints and 2H Staedler Lumograph pencils. And feathers. I love feathers.

I write. If for no other reason than, My bursting heart must find vent at my pen.

18 February 2011

I try not to think about you, about it, because, what is, is. Still, I find myself, at times, struggling to loosen my grip on the fantastical image of you my mind had conjured up. Why do I find it so difficult to let go of the myth into which I made you? How could you possibly ever live up to such a myth? How could anybody?

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Day 49

18 February 2011

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