i can't get my eyes to focus.
they insist on reverting to a blurry state everytime my mind wanders.
or i turn my head.
they're about 3 seconds behind me today.
is that weird?
or a side-effect?
free time for a free bird
i wish i had a camera.
slow times at work
means skating time in the park
i can't wait
ice like a mirror with the backing gone
solid but indiscernable
get the jitters out
before they get comfy
and decide to stay.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Home - Selwyn Ch 1 (?)
If Selwyn O'Neil had any idea of what awaited her at the end of her journey, she did not show it. She looked out of the window of the 747 stoically, examining the passing clouds with apparent rapt attention. Her neighbor in the next seat chewed his ham and cheese slowly, so as not to dislodge his precarious dentures. 'Chewing his cud like a fucking cow' she thought viciously while sighing loudly into the glass of the window. As if the older gentleman could sense her unkind thoughts, he finished his sandwhich and rang for the stewardess.
A middle aged blonde woman with her hat slightly askew on her piled hair approached the row of seats. Selwyn looked up as the woman bent over to speak quietly to the cud chewer. She nodded repeatedly, nearly sending her hat tumbling into the old man's lap. As she straightened, presumably to comply with the wishes of her elderly passenger, Selwyn said "Hey!" rather loudly. The relative quiet of the plane was smashed and the stewardess' eyes widened while she jerked back from the seats as if she had been slapped.
Selwyn herself flushed, as if she had startled herself too.
"Sorry, I didn't realize how loud-"
"Ma'am, that type of outburst is not appreciated."
"I know, I'm trying to apolo-"
"If you continue to be distruptive, we'll have to follow up with disciplinary actions."
"I'm- I...what? What are you going to do? Spank me?"
"Ma'am...please keep your sarcastic comments to yourself, or you will be-"
"Spanked. I see you've had to take this airline before." A man's voice interjected. Selwyn, the stewardess, and the old man all craned their necks to see who had spoken.
He was sitting in the row behind, a ballcap pulled down over his forhead and large black designer sunglasses obscuring most of his face. He had a goatee which looked a little scruffy and his lips had twisted into a smirk. The stewardess seemed to know him immediately and blew out her breath in an impatient way, shaking her head. She patted the elderly man's shoulder and reassured him, narrowing her eyes at Selwyn before she finally left.
He slid his hand inbetween the seat cushions and offered it to Selwyn.
"My name is Stephen Cantin, and if you need to take some anger out I'll let you spank me. They're an uppity bunch on this airline."
Selwyn twisted in her seat, awkwardly taking his hand and shaking it. His skin was suprisingly smooth, and very warm. She found herself staring at the tattoo that peeked out from under his longsleeve tshirt. Belatedly, she caught herself and relinquished his hand, smiling at his comment. He tugged it back through the seats and returned her smile, flashing some of the whitest teeth Selwyn had ever seen on a man.
"My Momma taught me to never spank strangers, sorry Stephen."
"Well you know, you're the stranger. You know my name and everything."
"And everything huh? I guess fair is fair, my name is Selwyn O'Neil."
"Jesus...Selwyn? Selwyn? How in god's name do you spell that?"
She laughed at his incredulity and spelled it for him, undoing her seatbelt and turning, kneeling on the seat and looking over into the row behind.
A smile split his face as her head and shoulders popped up over the back of her seat.
"What is that, Jewish?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.
She laughed again, raising her own eyebrow back at him. "Do I look friggin' Jewish?"
He studied her for a moment before shaking his head. "Not particularily."
"It's gaelic. What are you going to Chicago for?"
"I'm going on business, I have to film a tv show tomorrow."
"You're an actor? No wonder you look familiar. What have you been in?" She smiled again, resting her chin on her crossed forarms.
He shook his head and smirked at her again. "Not really...nothing of note. I'm a musician. An out of work musician, but hopefully tomorrow will change that. What brings you to the Windy City?"
"I'm actually going to be on a tv show too, but I'm not a musician."
"Actress?"
"Writer." She nodded and raised her eyebrows at him, inviting him to comment. He went in another direction completely.
"Well, you'll have to give me your hotel room number so I can take you to dinner while your in town."
Selwyn took this abrupt request in stride, keeping her eyebrows raised. "Are you from here?" She countered instead of answering.
"Not at all, but I've been through enough to know the city pretty well." He let the travel sized table down and ripped a scrap of paper out of the in-flight magazine. Once he was done jotting a few things down, he offered it to Selwyn.
"That's my name again, in case you forget, and my cell number. When your free, call me. We'll work something out."
"OK....thanks. They don't mind you vandalizing their property?" She said with a smirk, jerking her head to the stewardess walking down the isle again.
He shook his head again and reached over his seatmate to tap the stewardess as she passed his row. She stopped and glared at him while he casually rolled the magazine up and passed it over.
"I'm ready for my spanking now."
A middle aged blonde woman with her hat slightly askew on her piled hair approached the row of seats. Selwyn looked up as the woman bent over to speak quietly to the cud chewer. She nodded repeatedly, nearly sending her hat tumbling into the old man's lap. As she straightened, presumably to comply with the wishes of her elderly passenger, Selwyn said "Hey!" rather loudly. The relative quiet of the plane was smashed and the stewardess' eyes widened while she jerked back from the seats as if she had been slapped.
Selwyn herself flushed, as if she had startled herself too.
"Sorry, I didn't realize how loud-"
"Ma'am, that type of outburst is not appreciated."
"I know, I'm trying to apolo-"
"If you continue to be distruptive, we'll have to follow up with disciplinary actions."
"I'm- I...what? What are you going to do? Spank me?"
"Ma'am...please keep your sarcastic comments to yourself, or you will be-"
"Spanked. I see you've had to take this airline before." A man's voice interjected. Selwyn, the stewardess, and the old man all craned their necks to see who had spoken.
He was sitting in the row behind, a ballcap pulled down over his forhead and large black designer sunglasses obscuring most of his face. He had a goatee which looked a little scruffy and his lips had twisted into a smirk. The stewardess seemed to know him immediately and blew out her breath in an impatient way, shaking her head. She patted the elderly man's shoulder and reassured him, narrowing her eyes at Selwyn before she finally left.
He slid his hand inbetween the seat cushions and offered it to Selwyn.
"My name is Stephen Cantin, and if you need to take some anger out I'll let you spank me. They're an uppity bunch on this airline."
Selwyn twisted in her seat, awkwardly taking his hand and shaking it. His skin was suprisingly smooth, and very warm. She found herself staring at the tattoo that peeked out from under his longsleeve tshirt. Belatedly, she caught herself and relinquished his hand, smiling at his comment. He tugged it back through the seats and returned her smile, flashing some of the whitest teeth Selwyn had ever seen on a man.
"My Momma taught me to never spank strangers, sorry Stephen."
"Well you know, you're the stranger. You know my name and everything."
"And everything huh? I guess fair is fair, my name is Selwyn O'Neil."
"Jesus...Selwyn? Selwyn? How in god's name do you spell that?"
She laughed at his incredulity and spelled it for him, undoing her seatbelt and turning, kneeling on the seat and looking over into the row behind.
A smile split his face as her head and shoulders popped up over the back of her seat.
"What is that, Jewish?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.
She laughed again, raising her own eyebrow back at him. "Do I look friggin' Jewish?"
He studied her for a moment before shaking his head. "Not particularily."
"It's gaelic. What are you going to Chicago for?"
"I'm going on business, I have to film a tv show tomorrow."
"You're an actor? No wonder you look familiar. What have you been in?" She smiled again, resting her chin on her crossed forarms.
He shook his head and smirked at her again. "Not really...nothing of note. I'm a musician. An out of work musician, but hopefully tomorrow will change that. What brings you to the Windy City?"
"I'm actually going to be on a tv show too, but I'm not a musician."
"Actress?"
"Writer." She nodded and raised her eyebrows at him, inviting him to comment. He went in another direction completely.
"Well, you'll have to give me your hotel room number so I can take you to dinner while your in town."
Selwyn took this abrupt request in stride, keeping her eyebrows raised. "Are you from here?" She countered instead of answering.
"Not at all, but I've been through enough to know the city pretty well." He let the travel sized table down and ripped a scrap of paper out of the in-flight magazine. Once he was done jotting a few things down, he offered it to Selwyn.
"That's my name again, in case you forget, and my cell number. When your free, call me. We'll work something out."
"OK....thanks. They don't mind you vandalizing their property?" She said with a smirk, jerking her head to the stewardess walking down the isle again.
He shook his head again and reached over his seatmate to tap the stewardess as she passed his row. She stopped and glared at him while he casually rolled the magazine up and passed it over.
"I'm ready for my spanking now."
Monday, February 25, 2008
Join the Chorus of the Unimpressed
Words are slippery things.
Still, I know which ones are directed at me.
but the funny thing about words is;
connotation.
What you mean and what I hear,
within are the discrepencies.
Words hold connotations.
Not action.
The story of a life (any life)
is the story of emotions
played out over a life span.
So to what end to ignore them?
To rise above the messy and dirty emotions,
the ones that don't make sense
and say "I refuse delivery."
Words are subjective, given meaning by context.
The context of scenario, language, diction, speaker.
No two realities are the same.
Words have no fixed meaning.
We have agreed that "red"
shall pertain to a colour in our society,
but that does not stop it from
connotations of blood and passion
amongst other things.
Words can have weight, but it is inert.
They have no action inherent in them.
They lay, trembling on the page, waiting for someone
to assign meaning.
It is the emotion they convey, stir up,
that initiates action.
Can I help that your words,
with their sliding connotations
have elicited something
other than intended from me?
Is this anyone's fault?
Can blame be affixed to anyone?
Should it?
Ego drives us around, sometimes missing the stops.
Sometimes it pulls them all out.
But to deny ego is to feed it.
To be above ego is to play to ego.
And we all play in the ego mudpit.
Some wade deeply, some only put their toes in,
Sometimes we play nice, sometimes not.
Some need help getting out, some getting in,
but we're all there.
There is, was, nothing nasty intended
not how you have read it
not for you
but those connotations are at work again.
Sometimes I feel as though I can read things
that no one else can see
but the connotations still elude
even occasionally, me.
-Jessica Leigh Feb 2008
Still, I know which ones are directed at me.
but the funny thing about words is;
connotation.
What you mean and what I hear,
within are the discrepencies.
Words hold connotations.
Not action.
The story of a life (any life)
is the story of emotions
played out over a life span.
So to what end to ignore them?
To rise above the messy and dirty emotions,
the ones that don't make sense
and say "I refuse delivery."
Words are subjective, given meaning by context.
The context of scenario, language, diction, speaker.
No two realities are the same.
Words have no fixed meaning.
We have agreed that "red"
shall pertain to a colour in our society,
but that does not stop it from
connotations of blood and passion
amongst other things.
Words can have weight, but it is inert.
They have no action inherent in them.
They lay, trembling on the page, waiting for someone
to assign meaning.
It is the emotion they convey, stir up,
that initiates action.
Can I help that your words,
with their sliding connotations
have elicited something
other than intended from me?
Is this anyone's fault?
Can blame be affixed to anyone?
Should it?
Ego drives us around, sometimes missing the stops.
Sometimes it pulls them all out.
But to deny ego is to feed it.
To be above ego is to play to ego.
And we all play in the ego mudpit.
Some wade deeply, some only put their toes in,
Sometimes we play nice, sometimes not.
Some need help getting out, some getting in,
but we're all there.
There is, was, nothing nasty intended
not how you have read it
not for you
but those connotations are at work again.
Sometimes I feel as though I can read things
that no one else can see
but the connotations still elude
even occasionally, me.
-Jessica Leigh Feb 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
*** Buying Time - Great Big Sea ***
i stayed awake for hours again last night, searching for a reason to keep up the fight, i've made choices i don't regret, but i've got problems i don't get, i didn't want to carry the heavier load, you can't always take the middle road, there comes a time when you make up your mind, and the point gets left behind/ oh lets wait one more day for the conversation, one more day to make it right, lets get away from the confrontation, one more day just buying time/ for years and years you can drift along, and write another verse to an endless song, wait one more day til the time is right, hoping that you both see the light, you won't see the light/lets wait one more day for the conversation, one more day to make it right, lets get away from the confrontation, one more day just buying time/ i'm not afraid to sleep alone, i'm not afraid to be alone, stayed awake for hours again last night, searching for a reason to keep up the fight, i've made choices i don't regret but i've got problems and problems and problems...oh lets wait one more day for the conversation, one more day to make it right, lets get away from the confrontation, one more day just buying time, just buying time, just buying time...
Manufacturer's Warning
It all piles up
the faster I shovel
the faster it falls
crumbling in
like so much sand
Is there nothing
which can stand?
Hold true to
integrity through
the flames.
We make glass,
transparent people
drifting past
window shopping
for a soul.
-Jessica Leigh, Feb 2008
the faster I shovel
the faster it falls
crumbling in
like so much sand
Is there nothing
which can stand?
Hold true to
integrity through
the flames.
We make glass,
transparent people
drifting past
window shopping
for a soul.
-Jessica Leigh, Feb 2008
Amen
"I have a right to my anger, and I don't want anybody telling me I shouldn't be, that it's not nice to be, and that something's wrong with me because I get angry."
Maxine Waters, in Brian Lanker, I Dream a World, 1989
...The sun doesn't give the light to the moon assuming the moon's gonna owe it one, it makes me think of how you act for me, you do favors then rapidly you just turn around and start asking me about things that you want back from me, I'm sick of the tension, sick of the hunger, sick of you acting like i owe you this, find another place to feed your greed while i find a place to rest,/ i wanna be in another place, i hate when you say you don't understand, i wanna be in the energy, not with the enemy, a place for my head / maybe someday I'll be just like you and step on people like you do, and run away all the people i thought i knew, i remember back then who you were, used to be calm, used to be strong, used to be generous but you should have known that you'd wear out your welcome and now you see how quiet it is all alone/ i'm so sick of the tension, sick of the hunger, sick of you acting like i owe you this, find another place to feed your greed while i find a place to rest... -- "Place for my Head" Linkin Park
Maxine Waters, in Brian Lanker, I Dream a World, 1989
...The sun doesn't give the light to the moon assuming the moon's gonna owe it one, it makes me think of how you act for me, you do favors then rapidly you just turn around and start asking me about things that you want back from me, I'm sick of the tension, sick of the hunger, sick of you acting like i owe you this, find another place to feed your greed while i find a place to rest,/ i wanna be in another place, i hate when you say you don't understand, i wanna be in the energy, not with the enemy, a place for my head / maybe someday I'll be just like you and step on people like you do, and run away all the people i thought i knew, i remember back then who you were, used to be calm, used to be strong, used to be generous but you should have known that you'd wear out your welcome and now you see how quiet it is all alone/ i'm so sick of the tension, sick of the hunger, sick of you acting like i owe you this, find another place to feed your greed while i find a place to rest... -- "Place for my Head" Linkin Park
Friday, February 15, 2008
purge, purge, purge
chuck it all
make some room
allow things out
and up, so slowly.
Not as hard as
I was expecting
to be honest
i just ride it
like a wave
one can't supress
let its power
rule everything
give up, cave in
crash into
emptyness
disembodiment
the wave cleans
refreshes, renews
destroys, corrupts,
drowns and cradles
all the garbled words
i could never say
and carries them all
out and out and out
to your shores
with so much ease,
grace even now
with the blackest skies
i've ever seen.
-Jessica Leigh Feb 2008
~Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for truth.~ Benjamin Disraeli
chuck it all
make some room
allow things out
and up, so slowly.
Not as hard as
I was expecting
to be honest
i just ride it
like a wave
one can't supress
let its power
rule everything
give up, cave in
crash into
emptyness
disembodiment
the wave cleans
refreshes, renews
destroys, corrupts,
drowns and cradles
all the garbled words
i could never say
and carries them all
out and out and out
to your shores
with so much ease,
grace even now
with the blackest skies
i've ever seen.
-Jessica Leigh Feb 2008
~Never apologize for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologize for truth.~ Benjamin Disraeli
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Family Business
Collisions.
Life is a reoccuring series of collisions.
They vary in size, shape, impact.
They are as unavoidable as the oxygen that permeates our beings.
Some are pleasurable.
Soft collisions, of hearts or minds. Bodies even.
There are purposeful collisions.
The exactness of a football tackle, or a bodycheck in hockey.
There are painful collisions.
Hard collisions, jarring every iota of your being with it's abruptness.
I was not prepared.
My whole life, I have been braced against the various collisions.
I have expected them.
Welcomed them occaisonally.
This was not forseen, or welcomed.
I can taste the panic.
I can almost see the end, if I focus hard enough.
I can hear it all.
I know the sequence of events without having to be there.
We've lost control of the wheel.
The Wheel.
That bastard of chance.
The spinning, revolving, rotating wheel of luck has turned away from us.
How could it?
How COULD it?
It was mere days ago we drove to see you.
Support you.
Memorial service for the man you loved.
(We all loved)
You hugged me, and told me it meant a lot to see me there.
Promised me the strawberry daquiris he used to make.
(That I loved)
And now you are gone.
Taking the secret of the perfect daquiri with you.
All the lights have been turned down.
My only comfort in this maze of collisions
Is that you are reunited
And we shall be too
Eventually
~this is family business, and this is for the family that can't be with us, and this is for my cousin locked down i know the answers in us, thats why i spit it in my songs so sweet like a photo of your granny's picture, now that your gone, it hit us, super hard on thanksgivin' and christmas, this can't be right, yo you heard the track i did, man this can't be life, somebody please say grace so i can save face and have a reason to cover my face, i even made you a plate, soul food, you know how granny do it...~
Life is a reoccuring series of collisions.
They vary in size, shape, impact.
They are as unavoidable as the oxygen that permeates our beings.
Some are pleasurable.
Soft collisions, of hearts or minds. Bodies even.
There are purposeful collisions.
The exactness of a football tackle, or a bodycheck in hockey.
There are painful collisions.
Hard collisions, jarring every iota of your being with it's abruptness.
I was not prepared.
My whole life, I have been braced against the various collisions.
I have expected them.
Welcomed them occaisonally.
This was not forseen, or welcomed.
I can taste the panic.
I can almost see the end, if I focus hard enough.
I can hear it all.
I know the sequence of events without having to be there.
We've lost control of the wheel.
The Wheel.
That bastard of chance.
The spinning, revolving, rotating wheel of luck has turned away from us.
How could it?
How COULD it?
It was mere days ago we drove to see you.
Support you.
Memorial service for the man you loved.
(We all loved)
You hugged me, and told me it meant a lot to see me there.
Promised me the strawberry daquiris he used to make.
(That I loved)
And now you are gone.
Taking the secret of the perfect daquiri with you.
All the lights have been turned down.
My only comfort in this maze of collisions
Is that you are reunited
And we shall be too
Eventually
~this is family business, and this is for the family that can't be with us, and this is for my cousin locked down i know the answers in us, thats why i spit it in my songs so sweet like a photo of your granny's picture, now that your gone, it hit us, super hard on thanksgivin' and christmas, this can't be right, yo you heard the track i did, man this can't be life, somebody please say grace so i can save face and have a reason to cover my face, i even made you a plate, soul food, you know how granny do it...~
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
