Your father was raised in Panama. I can imagine him vividly... The floral silk shirt with velvety red cravat, tan leather loafers, waxed-to-perfection moustache, and a big cigar. It was the late sixties and he was beautiful. I've never seen a photo but I can tell by the way you talked about him. His joi de vivre oozed into your stories and I recognized it: the distilled essence of his elegance was passed to you, and you shared it with me.

We met by our mutual attraction for showing off... I wanted to be treated like a delicate porcelain treasure - you wanted a plastic toy with the price tag of an heirloom. Twenty five years my senior and you still hadn't learned your lesson about girls like me... I may have broken your heart, but you should've known a tryst between the free-spirited edge of seventeen and a businessman with dreams of Panama would burn out in the end, just like your father's cigar.

A great gift is awareness
and the first man, himself as a collective unity,
a principal, the lord and master of the Earth
And woman, as a symbolic image of
man's mother and companion,
everything that is fruitful and formative
were driven from the garden lest they
eat from the tree of life and live forever
And so all paramount woes of humanity began
Yet the sky blue like an angels robe
enlightening the world as well as mankind's
liberty born of the psyche is key
to the mystery of the intuitive mind
and all and any trials can be endured from the
viewpoint of instincts pursuit...
for the knowledge of good and evil befell
from that mistaken fruit
that begot freewill
and expelled the pair from Eden.


ELEETE J MUIR

The covers move on top of me. I roll on my side, groaning, and open one eye to scan the room for the culprit. Immediate regret. A dull grey light is spilling through the fourth story window, the kind that’s not-quite-sunny but still bright enough to kickstart today’s hangover. A camera falls from the bed-side table and the source reveals itself: Anna’s cat, a tabby, nameless and found mysteriously missing a tail near Saint Denis street four years ago. More groaning, but being more awake than not, I kick the covers off me and look at my phone. December 30th. Scared to check my texts, I’m suddenly flooded with the memory of drunkenly messaging friends I hadn’t spoken to in years, hoping they hadn’t succeeded in overcoming their weekend MDMA habit. Most of the replies went as expected: “Who’s this?”
“No one” I text back, throwing a pillow at my friend, finding an injustice in the fact that I was woken up by her nameless, tail-less cat.
“I know you’re awake.”  
She looks up, smiles sheepishly. When she gets up, the light catches the right side of her face and I can still see patches of glitter. I smile. Say, “I can’t believe this is the last time I’m going to see you.”
“I can’t believe I’m still wearing the same make up I had on three nights ago,” she shoots back.
“Always the sentimentalist,” I tease.
“Yeah, yeah. You’re coming to visit me anyway.” Right.

I smile nervously. Somehow it felt like I was breaking up with someone after a six year relationship. Not the kind where you’re necessarily in love with the person, but the kind you stay in out of comfort and because you don’t know where else to go.

11:51 AM
That morning we walked to a local cafe on Rue Ontario, the one we’ve passed by almost every Friday night for the past two years, sometimes dressed to go to the dep and argue over what mixes best with peach *****, other times wearing Red lipstick, laughing in the 3 am August breeze, cars honking and men gesturing for us to come closer (laughing, you explained to me once, if you’re from around here then you know about Rue Ontario.)

Joi de Vivre. Joy of ******* for cheap. Missed opportunities. Never realizing my full potential. My wife, she doesn’t love me no more.

Laughing.

I know what kind of girl you are.

Laughing.

*****, where are you going?

Laughing.

Frigid ****. Don’t go asking for it.

Dead pan.  “I’m fifteen, *******”

His turn. Laughing.

If you’re fifteen then I’m going to jail tonight!

11:52 AM

We order four polish donuts and coffee, sprinkled with cinnamon. “For the special occasion,” she tells the man behind the counter. Paul. I’m hit with the notion that I probably wont see Paul again either. My feet feel light, I forget my name. Forget to thank the barista as she hands me my coffee. We find a table next to an arrangement of biscuits with all the ingredients labeled in Polish, exchange stories about the first time we realized our vaginas could lubricate themselves. We exchange stories about the day we were born.

“Use protection!” I yell as she walks off. “Never,” she winks.

I forget my name.

That night she's on a flight to Portugal to be with a boy who’s just too busy to see her.

February 2, 2018
12:32 AM
But we’re so in love.
12:41
He’s just been really busy.

2:52 AM
I was so, so, busy.
Read √√

I’m sorry,
√√
I’m so so sorry.
√√


Find your friends!

Search: Anna

Location: 3,263 miles away.

February 11, 2018

I wear Red lipstick, wake up with glitter on my face. Laughing, laughing.

Stop right now and NUT IT OUT
Which way you wish to go,
Do you want the wealth and stressful strain
Or blithely flick and throw?

Do you preen yourself with smiling pride
Owning shining  chattels new,
Whilst shallow OTHERS OGLE
With those envious eyes on you?
Or do you seek the clean four winds
Untrammelled by concern,
With sleeping bag, a crescent moon
Whilst crackling bonfires burn?

Have you thought to chuck it all
The car, the house, the boat
And cause your superficial  friends
To snigger, leer and gloat?
To simply live in HUMBLE CIRCUMSTANCE
To wake without a plan,
To greet the day with unconcern
And breathe a new, fresh man.


Is the courage there to TAKE THE CHANGE,
Can you make the first big move,
Or does convention stay your hand
To stray from comfort’s groove?
Have you thought about what others think,
Reactions from the crowd,
The clamorous cacophony
Of objection rendered loud?


“Absolutely NOT, my dear”
Pygmalion my ****.
To throw it all away, Silly,
Simply would... betray your Class!
“It’s all so rudimentary
This thing of living rough”
“Reminds me of the great apes,
And other basic stuff!”


There’s loads of reasons why YOU CAN’T,
The mortgage at the bank,
Insurance is essential
And while we’re being frank...
There’s the tennis club subscription
And the afternoons I’d miss
Sipping lattes with the ladies
..though, the gossip’s SO remiss.


Perhaps we’ll put it off for now
Another day perchance,
When devilment and joi le vivre
EFFUSE another prance.
When the dream of having freedom
With the cold wind in my hair,
Will drive me to release
The inner WILDNESS hidden there.



Marshalg
Victoria ParkTunnel
4 March 2011

Our association makes the most of happenstance
When I hover close to look into your eyes,
To see your face dissolving into laugh lines
and witness your loud giggles with surprise.

The joyousness to hear your peal of laughter
Ringing out across the courtyard to the night
And to feel the balm of closeness in the offing
And the warmth of knowing everything's all right.

It's the way you take my arm in yours so easily
It's the way you sooth the worries with your charm,
And your boundless joi de vivre on the white sand by the sea
always guarantees this day will bring no harm.

It's delightful when we stroll along the lakeside
When we hear the sparrows singing in the trees
There's no unnecessary talk as we both enjoy our walk
And quietly celebrate togetherness with ease.

There's the moment when I catch your look of humour
There's the moment when we share the cherry pie,
There's the time we cuddle close to enjoy each other most
I think there's loving in the air for you and I.*

Marshalg
Pukehana with my girl
21 October 2013

A toast to the life of my good mate, Bill Massey


We toasted life with “steinies”
Watching Ngauruhoe smoke,.
We clambered over tussock
Laughing easily, “bloke to bloke”.
I Knew him as a good sort
Those forty years long past
But realised much later
That Bill’s friendships last.

To appreciate the standards
That Bill would always keep,
The quality of thought
That his ministrations reap.
The camaraderie enjoyed
And the bounteous Joi de Vivre,
And the lengthy conversations
Over occasional  cold beer.

Elements of friendship
That once won are not lost
Until cruel deaths intervention
Is counted heavily, as cost.
But the flip realisation
Is now readily made clear
That time shared gave value
That we both held as dear.

Bill was a good friend
In a firm, gentle way
And I thank my good fortune
For that long distant day,
When he entered my door
And smiling, held out his hand
And I entered the realm
Of a Gentleman’s Man.

Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
21 June 2011

S I AM SITTING WATCHING MY TV, I FEEL MYSELF BEING PULLED UP

TO BRING ME UP TO OUTER SPACE, AND ALSO GET RID OF MY SILLY DELLUSIONS

LIKE WATERING DOWN THE COMPUTER TO GROW A MONEY TREE ON THE INTERNET

AND TELLING MY PARENTS THEY AIN’T MY PARENTS

AND TO HELP IN THE HEALING OF THE MONEY TREE, I CLICKED ON A FERTILISER

WHICH HELPS GROW THE MONEY TREE

AND THEN AFTER THAT I PLAN TO ROB THE HAWKER SHOPS, AND DROP A FEW DOLLARS ON THE GROUND

TO GO BACK HOME TO JOI FAMILY AND FRIENDS TO SPURT MONEY DOWN TO THE POOR FROM PARADISE

YOU SEE, THE PARANORMAL WORLD ARE LIFTING MY BODY UP SAYING

WE ARE TAKING YOUR COOL KID AWAY, EVEN IF IT HURTS YA, CAUSE

IT LOOKS LIKE YOU DON’T WANT TO LET IT GO

YOU SEE I HATE BEING CALLED DUMMY

AND I HATE BEING CALLED A WOOSEY

I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A DIFFERENT PERSON TO EVERYONE ELSE

I KNOW, DUDES IT’S BLOOD HARD TO DO, BUT AT LEAST GIVE ME THE ILLUSION OF A COOL PERSON

AT LEAST GET ME PAST THE MENTAL HEALTH NONSENSE OF MY PAST

AT LEAST GET ME PAST THE COOL KIDS, IN MY HEAD,

FOR, WHEN I WAS YOUNG I WAS TRYING TO FIT INTO THE COOL FAMILY LIFE

NONE OF MY FAMILY REALLY UNDERSTOOD, I SAT IN THE MIDDLE OF A BENDY BUS

MY FAMILY DIDN’T WANT TO

I WANTED TO GO TO DISNEYLAND IN THE USA, MY FAMILY PREFERRED TO WATCH DISNEY ON TV, WHICH IS FINER

I AM HAVING A SCHITZOPHRENIC WINGE, YOU SEE I WANT ALL MY KID LOOK TO PULL UP OVER MY BODY

AS DAD WANTS TO RID MY SILLY KID, HOOLIGAN, SO TO SPEAK, RIGHT OUT OF ME

YA SEE, DAD IS NOW BETTY, AND, I HEAR VOICES FROM MY PAST, LIKE PAT JUST SAID, I AM GOING TO **** YA BLOOD

AND MY BROTHER IS BEING A PROTECTOR, THINKING I HATE IT, SAYING, LEAVE BRIAN ALONE, BUDDY, HE’S NOT LIKE US

I HEAR PAT SAYING, MEN DON’T DO THAT THAT IS WHAT KIDS DO, PAT MIGHT GO TO BED

AND DAD IS TRYING TO PULL MY DELLUSIONAL HOOLIGAN OUT OF ME, WHICH MAKES PAT SAY

YOUR STILL A YOUNG DUDE BRIAN, DAD PULLS BRIAN’S DELLUSIONAL HOOLIGAN, AND PAT SAID, BRIAN IS STILL A YOUNG DUDE

AND THEN SAID, WE ARE JUST HAVING FUN WITH BRIAN’S BRAIN, MR AND MRS AND CHRIS AND BRIAN ALLAN

WE ARE JUST PLAYING WITH BRIAN’S BRAIN, THE VOICES ARE SAYING BRIAN ALLAN HATES LIFE, BUT THE TRUTH IS BRIAN ALLAN LOVES LIFE

AND I LIVE LIKE IT’S ONE BIG ADVENTURE, I GET A DELLUSIONAL TEASE AS MY BROTHER AND THE GUY THAT NICKED MY LUNCH

ARE LAUGHING AT ME, SAYING, WE FOOLED YA, BUDDY, OLE DUDE OLE PAL

WITH THEIR BIG YOUNG DUDE LAUGH THEY HAD BACK THEN

AND ME, BRIAN ALLAN, WANTS TO RID THOSE SILLY DELLUSIONS OUT OF ME, BY YOUNGER PEOPLE

I DON’T WANT TO BE AN OLD FOGIE ALL MY LIFE, I LIKE DOING THINGS

YOU SEE PAT IS SAYING, US BIG YOUNG DUDES ARE DOING WHAT WE USED TO DO, YA LITTLE SHY BOY

AND I SAY, I WANT TO GET RID OF THIS SILLY MOO COW AND SHIP DELLUSION AND WORRYING ABOUT IT, BEFORE I WORK AY COMMON BRAIN

AT PRESENT, PAT IS PUTTING MY KID WHEN I WAS YOUNG BACK INTO ME

AND THIS KID, IS MAKING ME ITCHY ALL OVER

AND ALSO PAT IS SITTING UP WATCHING TV SAYING, I AM JUST SITTING ON THE COUCH, I MEAN NO HARM

I SAID, I DON’T REALLY WANT ANYONE TO GIVE ME SPECIAL TREATMENT, YA KNOW WHY, DUDE

BECAUSE, I SORT OF KNOW MY CALLING

AND PAT HAS BEEN COOL, LYING ALL OVER THE FLOOR AND EATING BISCUITS ON THE LOUNGE AND ALSO SITTING THERE DRINKING HIS BEER YA SEE

WHILE I DO MY TAPESTRY

ANY DELLUSION WHICH HYPES UP PEOPLE

MY BROTHER GETS ON THE COMPUTER, SAYING YOUR STILL LIKE US, BRIAN AND PAT SAID ‘NO CHRIS, BE SHY FOR BRIAN

MY BROTHER SAID HE WASN’T SHY TO BE A COMPUTER BUFF, I AM NOT SHY TO BE A COMPUTER BUFF

ACTUALLY COMPUTERS ARE THE THING I LIKED ABOUT DAD, OUT OF THE MANY FAULTS

I LOVE TO MAKE THE COMPUTER WORK FOR ME LIKE DAD DID

PAT SAID, NO NO BRIAN IS STILL A YOUNG DUDE, BRIAN IS STILL YOUNG DUDE

DON’T BE BRIAN’S DADDY CHRIS, BE LIKE US, PAT SAID AS WELL AS SAYING NO NO NO

BRIAN IS STILL A YOUNG DUDE, AS PAT IS HAPPILY PLAYING AROUND THE HOUSE

TRYING TO GET ME TO CLKEAN MY HOUSE LATE AT NIGHT, YOU SEE PAT OLE BOY OLE PAL

I CLEAN DURING THE DAY WITH HELP, AND I CREATE ART AND WRITE AT NIGHT

AND I STARTED TO GET ITCHY, FROM THE TEASING BUG

How I loved those harbour lights,
as shipwrights, we worked through those long and lonely nights and laid keels for Queens that rode the sea.

She was one,
The S.S mv Lexicon, a giant of a lady she. would leave her lipstick marks upon the sea and we just loved her, built her dream in funnels square and clean and launched her late one Monday Eve and when steam had scorched the boilers, we've seen our Queen go sailing far away.

That day has gone now, steam no more, a passing fancy but I adored the smoke and grit, the wit of Bosuns as they spat at this and that and harried cabin boys who touched their caps out of respect, I expect it's for the best.
And tomorrow what will be is a lack of joi de vivre and the sea will look so flat.

How fitting the autumn leaves fall now
As we sit contemplating the seasons of our lives
Whete even the most confident, ebullient and robust of people
Would consider their mortality
At this juncture in a troubled world

It takes a moment or two, when someone close to us
Puts on their coat and hat, waves good bye
And slips silently from our lives to realise that
The circle of life, of birth and death is a blessing
That we must accept as nature's way.
Hard though it might seem

So should we not be sad now?
Should we not be regretful, tearful nor feel despair
That our loved one has left us for the Summerlands?
Of course we should, it is natural for us
When we love someone we want them near us forever
Regardless of everything.

So as the blanket of leaves surrounds us
Like the trees now, we may feel empty and bare, exposed to
Everyday incidents, bereft and lost in our sadness.
But we need not be.
The ensuing winter is joyously filled with warmth
It is filled with the energy, the good cheer and memories
Of the spring and the summertime of our dear loved one Les
We remember the fun, the laughter the joy he brought to us all
The silly sayings, the actions and the way he did certain things
Any failings he had are not even anything to consider today

His obvious love for all of us will continue, as ours for him
It will live within us because he planted it there
He tended and watered it in the Spring and Summer
So that we can reap the benefit in the harvest
Continue to enjoy his love, his care and his presence
Even now as he returns to stardust from whence we were born

Dad will never leave us. I can feel his spark within me now
He is here in my heart and within yours too.
Take his energy, his joi to vivre
And let his spirit lift you and continue in your life
Then you will not feel so sad nor will you feel cheated
But thankful  you were part of his life
And he was part of yours
He was a special man, we must celebrate his life
As I know he would celebrate with his heart and soul
Through every season and every year to come.

I've smoked so many cigarettes my throat is swollen.
I'm
so
high
from painting.

My dining room is different. Brighter,
just enough

to keep me from the edge.

I don't know why it pulls me out,
May be I'm
channeling her.

Oh darling,

Why did you leave?

It's nearly 6 am,
I'm alone.
High.
Suicidal.

Wishing for you and Charles Bukowski.

Wishing for happiness.

for joi de vie.

I painted.
It's nearly sunrise,
but I survived.

Good Morning World,
I lived to see the day.

In honor of you,
despite of you.

Will the day dawn that doesn't bring devastation?

Without you,

life is just so
dark.

love you. Miss you. Wish you were here. .