daturas' garden

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Location: Ontario, Canada

June 15, 2005

Highway History

how is it that a little pink screen can laugh at you and say ha ha loser you have nothing important to say, how an empty white box with a blinking cursor waiting for text can be so overwhelming? it tempts me to write only to make a fool of myself and my little thoughts and observations. feels like starting an essay thats due yesterday.

i noticed on the way to work that highway driving is FULL of history. i've never actually looked out and been aware of what you can really see on the side of the road. what events have occured. besides the occasional interesting roadkill and the oh so cool my car changes colour in the sun paint job of some shitbox gone fast and furious, there are miscellaneous car parts that hint at the series of unfortunate events taken place, to keep you occupied on the long journey to work.

you can not only see (and hear if you imagine) the long scrapes of said paint jobs along the steely highway dividers, but you can also make out the dents and kinks leftover from impacts. this morings eye candy was a bumper that had been crushed under the bent metal divider and ripped off, stuck and hanging there in scraggled bits.

a license plate mashed up and wrapped around steel bolt...in one second of crashy speediness, some one cuts you off, you're front plate is gone and your car is fucked. peices of tire, glass, mirror, hats, popped balloons, then sometimes you even see that people have placed flowers in the middle of the highway, further symbolizing fatal accidents. how the hell do you place flowers in the middle of the highway, without inducing fatality yourself?

i took a picture of this truck we got stuck behind in rush hour one day. my digital camera is for SUCKS so the pictures run completely parallel to that statement.
i have never seen a truck like this before, this is not to say they don't exist. obviously they do. it was a vehicle used for collecting garbage with a reservoir on the top i guess, like an extra shelf...jammed everywhere in this garbage truck-protruding endlessly, were ribs, bones, bones, MORE bones, fat, leftover meaty grossness hanging off everywhere tumbling with the traffic. they over stuffed the actual storage/crushing area, and tossed MORE bones on the top ..piles and piles of animal carcass bumping and sliming and jiggling slowly down the road, half a chevron in front of us. a slime of chunky fat slid down the outside of the truck and got stuck on the bumper. it might as well have been leaving a trail down the windsheild. the frowny crinkle 'thats disgusting' face is involuntary.
i wonder how many things they do with those bones and squishy fat. from fight club to pet stores, this had to be talked about. it's just something you don't get to be stuck behind everyday.

June 09, 2005

A Dream with No Pictures

Last night i had a dream that the town i live in was being hit by napalm bombs. the person i saw dying was sly stallone...and i haven't even seen the contender. who knew that gasoline and styrofoam jelly could bring such a deadly sting...

the night before, i dreamed of axl. yeah you heard me. what does it mean when guns and roses are guest speakers in a class you have to go to because a little blue spirit boy told you he needed your help? turns out nothing happened in that class except someone stole my beads, and the rocket queens that started the class turned into a dave matthews type band covering mr.brownstone-acoustic. I'll let you make up your own mind about that one. i remember feeling it was time to leave.

turns out this class was in this huge castle type structure, i walked outside to a hilly and green park, the grounds were beautiful. from huge tree to tree outside, hung out for decoration were these great hand made quilty blankets, all covered in textured triangles sewn together squares of gypsy-like goodness. There was a teacher with frazzled blond hair wearing flowing purple panels of fabric that moved around her like she had no figure underneath. she was making gestures of thanks to thin air. she had two dogs with her keeping the crowd occupied and kept smiling at something beside her that no one else could see. i wondered what it was.

as i looked up into the clouds i saw something that looked like heat waves. as my focus on the area phased out, a piece of castle wall appeared rubbed out of the sky. the teacher saw my surprise and walked over to me smiling. she spoke without words and made a gesture with her hand across the horizon. the clouds cleared, and the castle wall appeared and stretched so far across the sky i couldn't comprehend. how did i not see this before? from blue spirits to hidden sky castles, i looked down and could now see the little blue sparks of energy beside her, that was supposed to represent a pet-which she was talking to earlier. I put my hand down to pet it, and it came up to meet me. it was like a tickle of pins and needles on my hand.

the teacher guided me away from the crowd and said all i had to to was look, we can all SEE...and that there was another reason i was here, in this dream. so now i realize i'm dreaming. she smiled and walked away, and i turned around to see a vision of my mom calmly patting the dust out of one of the gypsy quilts so she could bring it home with her.I was fully aware that this was a vision as i took my first step towards her. the image her, wrapped in violet too, seemed to sway with each footprint i left behind. my destination was a hug, a memory in the centre of a healing, soothing, swirling insense called Mom.

I didn't wake up at this point. If i had, i imagine a sadness would reside, like she was taken away too early again. I woke up walking away because i was ready, the energy of this whole dream left me feeling like everything was as it should be. I say that to myself alot, but to feel it so completely is a gift, especially when the waking world of 'forget the focus and take the shot' does indeed feel so relevant.

i never thought i'd be the lame-o blogging dreams. i know these entries aren't filled with big words and lots of pictures, give it time. sometimes its nice to create your own visuals.

Dreams are pure nature; they show us the unvarnished, natural truth, and are therefore fitted, as nothing else is, to give us back an attitude that accords with our basic human nature when our consciousness has strayed too far from its foundations and run into an impasse.

C.G Jung

June 07, 2005

Gently Thumbing

Making heads
Flower stems
Rolling eyes
Stripey gems
Open seam
At the mouth
Curving up
Spiral south
Piece of mind
Follow through
Working hands
This is you

June 05, 2005

A Blog Beginning

hold the paint chips madam_batman, i think this pink is really the one. After seeing the trend of black blogs, i'm beginning to think pink...not for the pornographies, and not for trendy queen street last summer, but for self induced colour therapy. Mind Over Mood and The Sound of Paper on the top of my list.
I'm sitting here wishing my homework away,I have one more presentation left. Its all in my head, so why is it that getting it out takes SOOOOO long. The solace of the red room is perfect and the laptop feels more like a pet on my lap than buzzing, slow ass,'I'll open things when i damn well please' piece of technology...either way this was a good distraction. I made a clay head today. That was another good distraction. it has stripey eyes. and a flower. and a skewer through it.
it will make lovely company for miss jade.

June 02, 2005

Enter the Ragdoll

What I’d like most right now feels much beyond my level of astral connection...astral projection maybe, but even that requires a more developed third eye considering the smog alert for downtown toronto. Forget about digi-cams and bug reports, the smell of fresh metallic silver trim sans the open windows, fast bodies that stutter and group around the office all day like that part in the movie they speed up to prove a point. Enter a new scene. As much as I’d like, I won’t wish this away. I appreciate and will stand by the concept of being comfortable in my skin, even though it feels gnawed on by circumstances beyond my control. I know today that I am thankful for what I have, and proud of where I am despite the emotional oposite. I don’t 'wish' to be the ragdoll, or run away with the circus. I am the ragdoll, and the circus is everywhere. Maybe the homeless woman got it right and it IS all about silver pants and stuffed animal slippers...and turbans...and oh so many other things.

June 01, 2005

Very Nearly Blog

A Proper Tea is much nicer than a Very Nearly Tea,
which is one you forget about afterwards.

~A.A. Milne