A lawyer planning to return to practicing status, a writer of literature and peotry, A housing facilitator, planner and developer, an advocate and support person to the homeless and the best love I can be to my beloveds.
We met without her there. My eventual wife, I mean. I was alone, on a bed purchased by my daughter. It is difficult to forgo the breath of a lovers fingers. The oils secreting out of pores, foreshadowing where touch is to fall, are the colour of joinings. It is this tactile unpoured kiss, telling of consent and its hushed breeze of procreation which gives sweat and sweet flavours to coitus. The pauses, where fingers are poised, are the battle flags of want and hope. They press the mind into smaller, denser spaces where the moisture of anticipation is blood, where the thumping is still within the body, waiting. We await the dilation of consciousness, the absence of sufficient dimentions for thinking, to only leave room for the rose of feelings. All of these vistas of beauty were absent. I was alone and had been for years.
I was visiting a good friend today. A person who in another age was called a ‘shut in’. She has dark hair, belying her age, this despite an absence of dye. The usual calm, warm shape to her face was distended: “Its on every channel!”
A reason for homelessness
Jordan Biehn is another homeless person I love, love, love. Her street name is Barbie. I think of her as a lovely woman - a kind of modern Eve. I know her to be a complex. injured, independant, masochistic artist. She knew Olya Stefania Marko, my deceased partner, and would sometimes sit with us in Tim Hortons, but never for long. Olya called Jordan my fantasy woman. Olya and I could talk about anything. Olya wasn't really describing just a sexual ignition system. Olya was talking about a desire, on my part, to matter. In Jordan's case by helping her recover from own heavy judgements. Olya and I often talked of the 'wiggle room' that people might extend to themselves: regular forgivenesses, self-allowances, especially during societal failures, to be sometimes angry, to sometimes act out in embarrassing ways. This is especially true in the homeless population which are, amongst other things, some of the most profoundly doctrinal law and order types that you will come across. So much so, that I fear they help elect conservatives who sometimes seem to pretend that the homeless are not really there.
On Gods, Goddesses and the Meta
My spellcheck wants to be God. Apparently, it likes ‘God’ to be capitalized but not ‘goddess’. As soon as female gender is certain, divine capitalization departs. Bad spellcheck! Bad bad spellcheck! You are going to give feminists a complex! Stop it!
How a lost little black book led to revealed wealth
Over numerous years, Kim’s books had been disappearing. Green books and read books, hard books and soft, books rigid in posture and embarrassingly stained, they all were drawn to some secret place that was not at hand to Kim. These losses included the history texts of his degree in history, the law texts from his degree in law, the clinical therapy texts from his attempted Masters degree, his draft thesis in another and many other collections of words, bound and digital, literary and semi-literary. If the school bookish items were largely discarded by Kim himself as an assurance against ever getting too close to the emotional drains which those subjects represented to him, others were simply and definitely purloined. His year book from the International School of Dempasar, his family tree and the computer within which it was stored and each and every address book he ever tried to put together, including a number of little black books.
Trump and the so-called 'Hicks'
By supporting a man who seemingly is demonstrably and exclusively self interested, some create and advertise the inference that they too are only self interested. There’s a decided down side to this approach, as I expect the acolytes well know.