incommunicado

My blog-a-day goal kind of hit a bump in the road.

Or, rather, a head-on collision on the highway.

Which is what Kate met on Thursday night while she was driving to see her husband, Paul. One moment she was driving, the next moment she was hit by an impaired driver.

What annoys me now is remembering all the times I was unable to return her calls due to a hectic schedule compared to how much I would like to see "K8" show up on my call display today. I figure the phone's probably in smithereens, so I don't think that will be happening.

So, when she gets better (and I know she'll get better), she'll read this blog and laugh at the words: Kate, you definitely topped the bachelorette I gave you.

And I know that it's a wonderful world
But I can't feel it right now
Well I thought that I was doing well
But I just want to cry now
Well I know that it's a wonderful world
From the sky down to the sea
But I can only see it when you're here, here with me
- James Morrison, "Wonderful World"

the world is not
respectable; it is mortal,
tormented, confused,
deluded forever, but it is
shot through with beauty,
with love, with glints of
courage and laughter;
and in these, the spirit
blooms...
- george santayana

[Updates with less florid prose can be found on Paul Graham's website.]

sing a song of sixpence

I didn't post yesterday, despite my blog-a-day resolution, primarily due to the fact that I've come down with a post-Freshwind cold.

I set my radio alarm to CBC Radio 2 in an attempt to start my day with brain stimulating classical music. It generally works. Unless there is an operatic special. Opera at 7:00 a.m. mostly stimulates anger.

Today, the morning news informed me that birds now sing 20% louder in order to attract a mate over the din of traffic our cities produce. Songbirds now reach decibel levels so high that prolonged exposure to them can cause hearing loss, over time.

For some reason I haven't been able to remove this thought from my head all day. If birds are forced to compensate for modernity's intrusivness, how much more are humans being forced to adapt their lifestyles to catch a mate? How do we even have time for romance in our frenetic world?

I guess we just try 20% harder.

techtonik

I've watched this video half a dozen times and can't seem to get enough of it.

Things to look for:

1. The Upper-Thigh-Brushing-Move (main guy, front and center).
2. The Jump-On-It-Pony-Skip (guy on the left, as he joins the dance). He reminds me of Brett.
   (P.S. If you're interested, here's the original 70s version of the song. Disturbing.)
   
3. The Disinterested-Leg-Jostle (guy on the right, before he joins the dance). Very Gazaneo.
   
4. The Neo-Twist (guy on the right, after he joins the dance).
5. The Footloose-Throwback-Clip-Of-Dancing-Shoes (throughout).
   

blog-a-day

What got me here was this.

It's a brilliant blog, written by a brilliant man, about nothing and everything.

I'm addicted.

Something that my handsome fiance mentioned in a workshop this year at Freshwind sparked my imagination. He said that in order to sharpen your skills as a songwriter, you should write a song a day (I believe this piece of advice was actually yoinked from Tim Hughes...?).

Which reminds me of something my professional writing professor, Guy Allen, told us to do to back in university.

Marathons aren't run by those who are out of shape.

a boy and his pony

This story, taken from a blog I like to browse every once in a while (and, yes, it's worth your time to browse it too...it will heighten your appreciation for history), made me:

1. Tear up.
2. Laugh out loud.
3. Desire to get a pony for my kids one day.
   and
   
4. Resolve not to complain quite so much about my cat being in heat.
   

navigation

On men:

"The path to our heart is well marked, but it's also narrow,
for there are few that we trust with it."
(Dr. Leman)

On trust:
The sun's coming up
She's pulled all the blankets over
Curled in a ball
Like she's hiding from me and
That's when I know
She's gonna be pissed when she wakes up
For terrible things I did to her in her dreams

You wanna see the other side
What's going on behind the eyes
Still it seems if you can't trust
You can't be trusted

Didn't you know we're as close as we can be?

Hello.

(Ben Folds, "Trusted")


On marriage:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments: love is not love
Which alters whe it alteration finds.
(Bill Shakespeare, Sonnet CXVI)

silda

I admit I'm not one to follow politics, the goings-on in America, or the combination thereof. But the Spitzer scandal has my attention.

Or, rather, Silda does.

I can't imagine the bludgeon her heart sustained when she found out what her husband had done in secret but I can imagine that there's more to the story than a governor's cliché dalliances. In an interview given to 02138 Magazine before the scandal, Silda was "asked if she and her husband take time together, just the two of them" to which she laughed and responded, "It's hard to say what we do..."

Now, sitting at my desk, I'm reading a letter to the editor in today's Toronto Star that says: "Silda, like many other spouses who have found themselves in the same ghastly dilemma, agonized over what her self-respect demanded and conducted herself in that light - in other words, out of regard to what, all things considered, was most conducive to her own self-respect. But why did she choose humiliation?"

I'm just speculating, but what if she has decided to stand by her husband's side, figuratively and literally, not because it was "conducive to her own self-respect" but because she still respects him? What if standing by her husband's side, figuratively and literally, isn't as much a symbol of "humiliation" as much symbol of humble commitment?

What about the 'till death do us part' bit?

An oldies song that my mom used to sing to me (if you knew my mom, you'd understand) goes:

Evil grows in the dark
Where the sun it never shines
Evil grows in cracks and holes
And lives in people's minds

I was recently, pleasantly surprised to discover that, in the right context and with the right person, the disclosure of The Skeletons can actually facilitate intimacy. Which is bizarre to me because the very things I desperately attempted to forget about were always whispering threats to prevent intimacy.

Stupid lies.

Stupid secrets.

Stupid cracks and holes.

Thanks, Silda. I pray that you find healing for your wounds and a greater understanding of how much you are Loved. I bless you to discover restorative light and intimacy in the tapestry of your marriage. Let Him repay you for the years the locusts have eaten.