gardenleftceramicpath

Day of the cellphone / I've sent an open letter to a local députée (cc-ing local media) as an outlet for frustration, I love the vent about the little things, I do not expect a response -- until the newspapers publish it / I keep the house unlit but I let the surroundings know of my presence; the music and the leaves, exposing myself naked to passers-by, marking the territory -- they have no business here and it is dangerous for them to get any closer, I suppose this is already common knowledge... locally, at least / Step out of the automobile and glance at the voyeurs (maybe not the correct description), I stand very still and silent -- watching you watching me; it is ill advised to do so, you should know, I try to make certain they do / Isn't it a marathon of gray days? Maybe the autumn paysage here explains my libido (as if i need a reason) / You should see it at night, that was also my point concerning the open letter actually, I'll venture further north tonight and give you a glance even though it frightens me to do so / Someone crazy enough to linger, alone and patient in the dark places, it's simple really: BE this person.

gardenfarfarright

It will be another few weeks before I'll be able (fully) to get back to my (work) priorities, not that the meantime isn't as stressful. I've based my operations here in the ****** for the time being but sleep comes no easier. The solitude I'm familiar with; I could do without dreams of previous thighs in which I used to sink my face in -- it's like I feel it right up to/inside of my canines. You play with fire, you get burned / You live in the past ... I know, I try not to go there, though the thoughts might insult some of you, it is a very important part of me, that I feel relevant to divulge here... now and then, less than I would normally do. I have to admit, the year is really different than I had expected (and if you check out the archives, I had precious little expectations). Many of us are gonna have to shift a few gears... "that" is what I expect.

gardensecretcorridor

Forthcoming hostility / She looks at me while holding her lover's hand, it means nothing / City sounds, faces on billboards no one wants to see / The quiet escape, like a british autumn, clean up the bottles, I wouldn't call it refuge / Slept in the afternoon, woke up to sleep paralysis, locked in my body -- intruders in both staircases / You would vote at the ADISQ, if it mattered, congratulations to Prénom Nom Titre / It outsells the "Montreal Mile End" scene BY FAR, yet... the scene is mostly anglophone / Un tremplin pour la France, et puis quoi après? Prénom Nom Titre 2 / Saturday Night Wrist / Wrap it up, try again.

gardenfarleft

You would come to expect perspective from a few days out of the city -- back home, where only souvenirs kept me company, but no, I have nothing to sort out. My life is work, that's all there is to me now. A minor car crash as punishment for enoying the latest weather. The "what would've/might've/could've been" is probably the worst frame of mind I could adopt. I felt guilty, by feeling safe, when there was so much left to do / wrap it up, try again. Then they dropped by, reminding me once again that I'm rich, so to speak. Thank you.

duplicity [01]

duplicity in surroundings | There was an incident in 2005, prior to this blog's beginning, where we thought we had lost a loved one -- kidnapped and hurt somewhere in Montreal's dark and vicious back alleys -- fortunately we were wrong but I discovered an amplified fear at that moment that is still lingering in the back of my head [ref: sous les vieilles roches de la ville]. It pains me to elaborate on the subject so I'll spare you the full details but in essence, aside from the hopelessness of the search and the concern for our loved one -- a terrible and desperate urgency to begin with -- we had to search through dark areas that are litterally parallel to the city's charming facades. Dark, dangerous, evil, hidden areas that are unknown to most yet so very near and so very present. Is there any place one would not scour to save a loved one? Exactly. But that wasn't our immediate concern at first, these evil factors were simply... distractions but as the search went on, they also heightened the gravity of the situation. It was later on, when all was said and done, relieved that no harm had befallen our friend, that it started to hit me; it was something other than the near loss experience and I had barely realized it in the heat of the moment... "distractions that had heightened the gravity of the situation", the distractions lingered. It kicked in at first in the intense rush of the moment, briefly, when I exasperately opened up a plywood panel to access sub-levels of one of the many abandonned buildings from where we had heard faint cries for help, I realized it wasn't broken glass that was cracking underneath my footing but actually leftover syringes... but the panel itself was a door to a dark forgotten area, one of many, the sudden light made things move in the dark, things... rather "humans" (homeless or junkies whatever) were moving out of the light's way back into their shadows -- not unlike insects, underneath rocks. There were numerous areas where a victim could've been hidden, amongst vile things that prefered the shadows... things were looking bleaker. Then came worse instances but it isn't necessary to lay them all out. I'll never forget the look on ******'s face, such an strong figure, broken down in tears of hopelessness and despair... and those of my friends who also scattered the remaining areas and warned local authorities. The imminent danger of it all. "She" had not been taken. Thankfully, "She" had simply left without notifying us and returned in time for us not to delve deeper... but the voice that some heard did belong to another, perhaps one them, perhaps not... and it would've been futile to seek her out -- in their territory. It's right there, parallel to some of the most beautiful streets of the city, right behind you. It hits me... everytime I see the scenery change -- as you walk by peaceful stores on St-Denis, all of a sudden an alley appears -- and it leads to another dark refuge. I doubt that it is overreacting if I point out that we often take our safety for granted, I know I don't need to underline it but we do need to watch over each other... more than we usually do. This came back to me last night, like backlash, in a dream from which I awoke -- absolutely terrified -- where I knew I had to return to a dark basement of sorts where all evil things occured, such a small place, hard to access, but the corner led elsewhere and there is nothing scarier than being endangered in what was seemingly once a safe haven. It dawned on me earlier today, the similarities... this was the dream's significance, obviously, more than a year later... it's still somehow right here, behind me.

101/200

september is for grieving / Above is a shot from earlier that night; no longer certain if it is an abrupt cold or the next season's sudden passing we're subjected to / this alarms me, might seem different to you, but most simply don't notice it (nothing wrong with that) / the street lights came late and I was thankful / I'm left to anticipate the next year and what it meant/means to me / efforts rewarded or not, after a few years of careful consideration (as much as I could offer), the anchor rises -- like it or not.