"The white fathers told us, "I think, therefore, I am" and the black mother within each of us – the poet – whispers in our dreams, I feel, therefore I can be free."- Audre Lorde

Saturday, December 18, 2010

...Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night and just lay there, in bed smiling, because I'm so EXCITED to go to work.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Organic Lapsang Souchong Star. smells like dirty bbq rack. lovers of single-malt whisky and fine cigars, appreciate heavy aroma of pine wood fire. a man's tea. thats why i drink it. puts hair in your pits. swallow and throat feels thick with smoke. like deep inhale of tobacco leafs. fermented. rolled. ready for lips, for lungs. in. out. tuff as is sensual. testosterone, meat. Black. Fiery. Yang.
Quangzhou Milk oolong. velvety. smooth. like kissing butter. clouds. and ground flour. creamy orchid. safe yet sensual. e x p a n d i n g and contracting like breath to body. leaves unfold. e xp an d. expand. weaving in and through the boil. Full mouth-feel. Bursting Wuyi mountains. softly it came. moon fell in love with comet.comet passed by . as comets do. moon cried milky tears--chilling tea fields, withering leaves- a gentle creaminess left behind. Another tragic love story later- leaves expand. envelope. grow. space, cup, body. nourishing friend, delicate lover.

Fill me.

Saturday, December 11, 2010


I'm a dreamer. Always have been. My dreams are consistently intense, detailed and emotionally charged. I forget very few. I think of them often. I sleep for them always.
I dream in colours, in feelings, in stories, but never before have I dreampt namely in concepts. This happened Thursday night. I woke up with information swirling through me, that was not my own. Concepts were laid out, as if wired to me. Perhaps it was a prophecy of caution, or perhaps it was just another of my subconscious' paranoid conspiracy plots. It was weird. and chilling, nonetheless.
I dreampt it was the future. I had grey hair. So perhaps 30 or so years from now?
The unadulterated roots of organic Christianity, was a threat to the state-- values of non-violence, simplicity, love, and selflessness, conflicted with the government's lust for war, consumerism, exploitation and greed. In a quest to build the wealthiest/advanced nation, Canada and the UnitedStates were in competition with one another, to expand their "Empires". Wars were ramped. Countries upon countries were once again under imperial rule, as Canada actively conquered previously independent lands- the colonialism of the 21st Century. Bodies raped. Earths stolen. Cities and villages across the world were exploited in order to financially honour and benefit the Home Empire-Canada. No land remained untouched. Resistance, conquer, bloodshed.
The government needed and depended on war and violence to sustain its own power. So militarism became the new nationalism--the new religion. To be patriotic and essentially non-american, to love God, to love your home, was to fight for it. (sound familiar?). Except this time, it was required to live.
Because it was the age of technology, books were more and more rare. Everything was digitalized, which meant original texts were more easily manipulated. Bibles in book form had stop publishing decades ago, and the State disposed of what was left. Instead, the "real", the "accurate" Bible was digitalized, just like any other book, and in doing so, the State ,in fear of having its people rebel, removed all the passages that spoke of love. If people followed love, war would not be possible. Love was striped from the Bible. and along with it Jesus and his teachings of non-violence and social justice. This Jesus, and these teachings were replaced with a war-mongering God filled with vengeance and Old Testament rage. This God invested himself in nations.
Because it was too risky to abolish religion all together, the state simply altered it, to further their political vision. They knew even people who didn't follow it regularly, would be offended by its removal. So, people of the future continued declaring themselves "religious" and "christians"-- and eventually all forgot what love was ever really about.
Soon Soldiers became the new Saviour. --The symbol to all, of the ultimate sacrifice. To know a soldier who was martyred for the empire, was to have access int heaven. Soon every man, woman and child, were and became soldiers in this fight. War was church. Guns worship. Death victory. and because of this Canada got richer. Got bigger. Got better. Perhaps Nitzche was right to call religion the opiate of the masses.

So, all of this context, was just in my head, before i even experienced the dream itself. It was really bizzare. The dream portion itself was a flashback. It was as if I was myself an elderly woman, recalling the sad state of the State, as fragments of violent memories flashed through me. The memory I saw was of myself, a bit younger, running through the darkened tank filled streets, to find sanction at next. Churches all around had been turned into military training camps. and Next too became a sacred place for training. I entered its doors, and on the walls where art of joy and celebration once hung, were banners draped. Banners with pro-war slogans; "God Bless the Fight", "One Empire; One God" . The room was empty, and I began ripping down these massive massive banners, throwing them to the floor and tearing them to shreds. All the while, screaming, and cursing and crying. Then five men came into the room-- decked in the military garb of the time period --- solid black. just like riot-cops. They pulled me away, elbowing me in the stomach as I stood. I fell to the floor again, and another one grabbed a fist full of my hair, and threw me against the wall. I kept screaming all the while, "Love your enemy". I kept screaming verses, that had since been deleted, that supported peace and called for active and selfless love. It was like I was diseased, the verses kept spewing out of me like froth at the mouth. They deemed me a crazy woman. Many were young, and had themselves never seen or knew the original document i quoted from. The State had killed off the "radicals", the Christians who refused to be coopted. the Christians who knew and lived for a Kingdom of the spirit, not the man. (Fellow nexters had all been murdered, years ago, for refusing to cooperate).
As i hovered against the wall screaming out in rage, Andrew entered the room and the men immediately threw him to the ground, each taking turns to kicking him in the gut. They kept demanding he stand up for himself, to show his power, to wzcersise the defense he had been taught, but instead he remained gentle and non-violent. Blood seept from his body, as more and more soldiers, cops, and government leaders encircled him, each taking turns beating him merciously. He represented all they hated. His refusal to forget jesus, was the threat to the nation. Instead of scream or retaliate, Andrew just simply told them, "My belief in Love, is stronger than all the violence you use, to beat it out of me".
And that was that.
The beating continued. And I ran around the outside of the circle, half naked, body bloddied, screaming, words I can't understand now, arms wailing, eyes popping.

He died that night. In that circle.
He died.

and I woke.

Thursday, December 9, 2010


The first time we met was at a bus station.
I had just come home after a long day of snowboarding. Your sister skied.
The man at the station referred to you as "our dad" because your face was hairy, and I was only 15.
"Your Dad is here to pick you up" the man said, pointing at you, in your mom's plum coloured mini-van.
I was cold and sleepy, so I crawled in the back seat without much of an introduction.
You were her big brother. Her old old old slightly dorky big brother, who quoted Lord of the Rings, and memorized the Bible.
Her old old old big brother, who wore the same oddly shaped navy blue sweater, with a terrible orange stripe across the chest.....everyday.
You were this. and I was a 10th grade, wanna-be-punk, with a hot-pink cat collar around my neck and metal studded goggles.
I sat, indifferently, in the backseat and you drove- making small talk like a Dad might, and every now and then I could see you smile awkwardly at me through the review mirror.
You dropt me off at home-- I forgot to close the van door behind me. You laughed a little. Awkwardly. I wandered inside, unfazed, and without much of a goodbye.
This was our beginning. The unromantic and anti-climatic hello that pre-empted 9 years of intimate friendship, six years of love, and 3 months of marriage.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

snail coitus makes me smile