vesper's escape

News from Nowhere

Oh wow dudes, lots has gone on in these past few weeks.  I'm very sorry for not posting more regularly, but I don't have internet in my new home until tomorrow.  I SOOOOOOO miss blogging.  It's just been a whirlwind of events, one thing after another.  Life is good.  Loving it all.  Be back soon!  XO

When Life Was Good

I'm gonna be in this.  And I did this for that.  My third one now.  I promise not to delete it, as long as the dudes promise not to be fucking creeps. 

Grow Your Hair

image of John and Yoko from The Earl Cram Revue.

I am currently in the middle of watching *The U.S. vs. John Lennon* on DocuDig.  Join me in watching it.  It's good for your soul.

B the boy (my six-year-old son) is watching it with me, and he has had some wonderful, grown-up-type (aware-child) questions about the Vietnam war, the protestors, John and Yoko.  "How can the cops be bad guys???" 

B quote of the Day: "John Lennon, without the glasses, looks like Jesus."

Toxic Thanatos

smoke image by Kerry Loewen.

even though you can't handle one more intoxicant
your body cackles
you say you are a poison(ed) clown
toxic self
toxic bubbles up
gurgles where you left your last breath
suspended over the nose
where you can't retrieve it.

a crown of smoke adorns your head
and all hail
all hail
the toxic one.
you can pull them up
you can pull them in
21st century allergic curses
bless and destroy.

your toxic enraptures.

And the Nights Are Long

I wouldn't take anything away.  I wouldn't change a thing.  It is happening and that's all there'll ever be.  Drink (to) the now. 

My weakest part is my left little finger, and also the part that dwells, deals in things that aren't there.

A poet nearby once said that the body is the soul.  Words collapse into each other, as do particles, as do soul-bodies in the night.  And lonely blooms into glee. 

Sweet Sweet Darkness mmmm

image from Texas Startup.

A poem sent to me by a loved-one.  Most appropriate timing.  Synchronicities unite.

You must learn one thing.
    The world was made
            to be free in.
Give up all the other worlds
except the one to which you belong.
Sometimes it takes darkness
     and the sweet confinement
of your aloneness
            to learn
     anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive
    is too small for you.

-David Whyte, *Sweet Darkness*

***

Thoughts on a Rainforest Monsoon-type Day, North Vancouver, the fifth month of the two-thousand-and-seventh imposter year:

Wanderlust is always timely for the wandering kind. 

Sharp knives are always hilarious to those with sharpness in their eyes.  Like likens to like. 

The red belt comes off at dawn, to rest these boxed-in hips, these boxed-in eyes. 

Eyes on repeat.  Open them.  Open, open your eyes.  This is your reason for being.

"Pretty boys with skinny ties" make me think of women and hard kisses.  You don't care what she pushes you up against, just as long as it's done.  And quickly.

I hope I live to walk on the moon.

My Theme Song, Bloody Motherfucking Asshole

image of Martha Wainwright from yesEvil.

I love the Wainwrights -- Martha and Rufus.  Both extremely talented, and currently I've got Martha in my ears, particularly the song, *Bloody Motherfucking Asshole.*  You might laugh at the title, but it's a serious, hard, heartbreaking song.  It's raw, and real, and honest as hell, and it's been on repeat on my itunes.  If you were wondering, I really fucking love music.     

Poetry is no place for a heart that's a whore
And I'm young and I'm strong
But I feel old and tired
Overfired

And I've been poked and stoked
It's all smoke, there's no more fire
Only desire
For you, whoever you are
For you, whoever you are

You say my time here has been some sort of joke
That I've been messing around
Some sort of incubating period
For when I really come around
I'm cracking up
And you have no idea

No idea how it feels to be on your own
In your own home
With the fucking phone
And the mother of gloom
In your bedroom
Standing over your head
With her hand in your head
With her hand in your head

I will not pretend
I will not put on a smile
I will not say I'm all right for you
When all I wanted was to be good
To do everything in truth
To do everything in truth

Oh, I wish, I wish, I wish I was born a man
So I could learn how to stand up for myself
Like those guys with guitars
I've been watching in bars
Who've been stamping their feet to a different beat
To a different beat
To a different beat

I will not pretend
I will not put on a smile [...]

[....]

-Martha Wainwright, *Bloody Motherfucking Asshole*

Every line in this song hits me hard and means something deep to me.  I have never wanted to be a man, I have never wished I was born a man, but I understand deeply the momentary utterance of such a statement, of wanting to be taken seriously, to be seen as an independent and strong individual in my own right.  I've understood deeply the fire that evolves after years of being treated like I'm supposed to manifest at all times the sweet, happy girl, the one that must be sugar and spice and dreams and goodness and all light and laughter at all times, at all hours.  Fuck that and fuck the idea.  I've gotten in shit for having "a mouth" -- for speaking my mind, for saying shit, bad words, for being gritty, for being honest, for being unexpected as a "young girl".  It's supposed to be all peace and prostration?  Fuck that.  Fuck, fuck that.  We do much wrong in our pursuit of ideals and roles and expectations (roles/expectations of gender, of sex, of age, and on and on)...I've seen this painfully, first-hand, gouged into my senses over and over again, until I learn to respect the things I've ignored.  The real things, the beauty of suchness.  The dog-eared ideals are no good for me now.  No good for this world, if real change is to be made.       

Vesper Acts

Me and best friend and the orb.  Redux. 

I have an agent!!!  I made my decision....a boutique agency with a small, specialized roster.  Fun fun times to follow.    

Be Still and Know: It's a Relatively Young Galaxy

image from Smoke the Pain Away.

Short post before I flounce myself around the city, selling my soul to the devil (i.e. acting agents). 

I might open my blog again (un-password protect it).....it's in the mind, but not a reality yet.  Well if it's already in the mind, doesn't that make it a reality?  It's got lots of potential, anyway.  Kinetic energy (I remember thinking of potential poems when I studied kinetic energy in science classes...which is why I'm NOT a scientist).  The legal troubles are passing quite nicely and more quickly than expected.  And by passing, I mean fading away.  The only reason I would leave it password-protected is because I really do enjoy the intimacy that we have here, illusory or not.  But I often feel cruel that others cannot access this blog, that they click on my name in comments on other blogs and get the "ACCESS DENIED" message, which is never pleasant, is it?  I don't fucking know.  I'll wait and think about it.

***

Is anyone familiar with the band, *Young Galaxy?*  I recently downloaded them, but wasn't crazy about their music at first go, and now I find myself listening to them quite often.  They are akin to a sleepy *Arcade Fire,* if you're familiar with them.  I would say a bit like *The Shins* as well, but less jittery, and more drawn out guitars.  I'm trying to think who else they're like....they use that reverb-y guitar sound that is wonderful when one smokes pot.  An objective observance.  Merely.

image from Galaxy Photography.

***

Happy May!!!!  Remember, Norwegian Independence Day (Syttende Mai) is on May 17th.  Start preparing NOW!  ;)  Dig out those Norwegian flags and start eating some lefse for crying out loud. 

Terminally Terminal and Amazing Women-Artists

image from lazygeek.net.

I had an awesome, awesome time on Saturday night.  Out ALL night.  Two or so hours of sleep.  Then slept til about 4:00pm the next day.  :)  Many thanks to those involved. 

In my hangover haze, I watched *The Terminal* yesterday.  What a shitty movie.  Seriously!  I can't believe how many "professional" movie critics gave it a good review!  I admit to laughing hard at all the people falling on the wet floors, and the accent was cute for awhile....but there's far too many stupid, poorly-written, poorly-executed portions....and it's horribly, horribly drippingly romantic in an idiot-romantic way.  And what's with all the SHIT about Napoleon and Josephine?!?!?!?!?  Napoleon was a big prick, a big (actually, quite small!) horrible dude, who was awful to many people.  The Catherine Zeta-Jones character is terribly cliche, terrible lines, terrible terrible!!!!  One-dimensional, dumb female character.  I hate it when women are written this way!!!!  Infuriating.  She reads long history books on her long flights, and she particularly loves reading about Napoleon.  Oh how great he is!!!  What a role model!!!  Fuck right.  Anyway, so after she explains this to the Tom Hanks character, the parallels to Napoleon and Josephine then run through the remainder of the movie!!!!  I almost gagged at every reference....because they got it all wrong.  The whole Napoleon-Josephine connection was romanticized and idealized...and totally wrecked any redeeming qualities of the film for me (NOT MANY, I might add).  It reminded me of really bad, totally overly-hyped, unrealistic, shitty shitty 80s films.

A movie that is utterly beyond all hope whatsoever.

Grade: D

***

image from toriphoria.

image from Everything Tori.

Musically, things are going much better!  The new Tori Amos album, *American Doll Posse,* is wonderful.  She does epic, and disturbing, and ecstatic, and whimsical, SO so well -- and all at once, and all combined.  Divine recipe of lovely.  Thus far, my favourite songs from the new album are *Bouncing Off Clouds,* *Big Wheel,* and *Programmable Soda.*  She harkens back a bit to *Boys for Pele,* -- not so much instrumentally, but lyrically, and rhythmically, and also in terms of the shorter, often more playful songs she distributes amongst the longer songs.  The trickster, noTORIous Tori is back.  (She actually got her name because people called her "Notorious" in church for wearing tight leather pants when she was younger!!!  She kicks ass.  I hate that the imposter, Tori Spelling, actually stole this idea, or her "people" did...either way, it pisses me off.)  *American Doll Posse* is more upbeat than *Scarlet's Walk* and more playful than *The Beekeeper.*  I will fall in love with anything and everything she puts out.  Kick ass, talented, genius, independent woman.  Long live the Tori.  And I need to see her in concert again.  She is AMAZING.  Amazing.  She dances WITH her piano, or against it, or something.  When two become one.

***

image from Vancouver Wine and Jazz Festival web site.

I've also gotten heavily into Mavis Staples's newest album, *We'll Never Turn Back.*  Her voice fucking has me in tears.  I don't know why, but I cry easily when music is very beautiful -- whether it's a voice, or an instrument, or some kind of combination of sounds.  The production of *We'll Never Turn Back* is brilliant!  I'm particularly in love with the song, I'll Be Rested.  Her music is classified as soul, with gospel roots, specifically Urban Contemporary Gospel, or "Black Gospel."  And Urban Contemporary Gospel's roots are in slave spirituals and hymns.  Anyway, Mavis Staples's voice is honey.  Mmmm, mmm, mmmm.            

Braille

image of Regina Spektor from Kill Your Co-Workers.

she was lying on the floor and counting stretch marks
she hadn't been a virgin and he hadn't been a god
so she names the baby elvis
to make up for the royalty he lacked

and from then on it was turpentine and patches
from then on it was cold campbell's from the can
and they were just two jerks playing with matches
cause that's all they knew how to play

and it was raining cats and dogs out side of her window
and she knew they were destined to become
sacred road kill on the way
and she was listening to the sound of heavens shaking
thinking about puddles, puddles and mistakes

cause it's been turpentine and patches
it's been cold, cold campbell's from the can
and they were just two jerks playing with matches
cause that's all they knew how to play

elvis never could carry a tune
she thought about this irony as she stared back at the moon
she was tracing her years with her fingers on her skin
saying why don't i begin again
with turpentine and patches
with cold, cold campbell's from the can
after all i'm still a jerk playing with matches
it's just that he's not around to play along
i'm still an ass hole playing with candles
blowing out wishes blowing out dreams
just sitting here and trying to decipher
what's written in braille upon my skin...

-Regina Spektor, *Braille*

A Love Note to Those Resistant to Change

image of Tony Kushner from Columbia 250.

I'm a fan of change, generally....although too much, even for me, is not fun.  But I don't mind the odd chaos.  I don't mind the odd exhuming of absolutely everything that stagnates below the surface.  I think change is absolutely necessary, and I think that generally North Americans are overly resistant to change.  There's too much stagnation going on.

What happens when water stagnates?  It loses its best dynamic qualities, it stops supporting a wide variety of life, it then becomes a complete environmental hazard.  It becomes a breeding ground for a whole host of diseases, bacteria, parasites. 

What happens when the mind or psyche stagnates?  Pretty much the same thing.

Obviously too much change is not always the best way to solve the problem of stagnation, but I do think a balance can be achieved.  And what makes so many people and so many groups and so many nations resistant to change?  What is it within us that kicks and screams against change?  If I were to offer some kind of psychoanalytic answer, I might say something about death.  When we take out all the causal links between the word change and the word death, we come up with a simple equation: change=death.  Death is the ultimate change.  What are people commonly afraid of and don't often come to terms with?  Death.  Hmmm, lots more can be said on this, but I'll spare you.  For now.  :)   

Tony Kushner, American playwright, often deals with the theme of change.  He states in the Introduction to a play called *Caroline, or Change*:

This play comes from sorrow, from anger and grief, and also from hope learned from history, from recent history, which has shown us both the terrors and also the pleasures of change, which has shown us that change, progress, is difficult, uneven, uncertain, but also absolutely possible.  Sorrow, anger and grief, our tragedies, shouldn't blind us to our victories.  The failure of this country to address racism and poverty, domestically and globally, has been a terrible failure, its cost incalculable, and the worst consequences have not yet arrived.  And yet the African-American civil rights movement changed not only America but the entire world.  A new model of human liberation was born of that movement, of that moment, a model that oppressed people around the world have embraced.  And the struggle goes on.  Jewish-Americans, with their deep understanding of the vital role of the federal government in protecting minority rights, with their deep commitment to social and economic justice, were and are critically important participants in the struggle. [...]  If that epic struggle did not accomplish everything it intended, it breached the wall of oppression, and through that breach the future is pouring in.

I have collected more direct Kushner quotes on change, but I'll have to search for them.

(Un)important Information

Are your parents married or divorced?:
Indeed divorced.

Are you a vegetarian?:
Semi-vegetarian.  I eat lots of fruit.  I'm a monkey.

Do you believe in Heaven?:
According to my B, it's in the blood.  The most real heaven I know.  Right here, right now, coursing through me.

Have you ever come close to dying?:
Yes.  B and I both...during his birth.  I blacked out many times, said goodbye, but we made it through.  I swear to god it changes your perspective.

What jewellery do you wear 24/7?:
No jewellry 24/7...but when I do wear something it's my silver ring on my right ring finger.

Are you eating?:
Um, not right now.

Do you eat the stems of broccoli:
No.

Do you wear makeup?:
Yes, because it's like paint.  I like black eyeliner.

Would you ever have plastic surgery?:
If I had a bad accident.

What do you wear to bed?:
Men's boxers or sleep pants.

Have you ever done anything illegal?:
Maybe mildly illegal.

Can you roll your tongue?:
Ah yes. 

Do You have a boyfriend or girlfriend?:
I'm single.

Do you believe in Abortions?:
Yes.

What is your Hair colour?:
Muddy blonde brown.  I don't know.

Future child’s name, boy and girl?:
Huh.  No more kids for me.  I have my B.

Do you smoke?:
No.  Allergic.

If you could go anywhere in the world where would it be?
Anywhere.  I love to travel.  I love road trips.  I love airplanes.  I love trains.  I love boats.  If it moves, and it moves you somewhere, I'm there. 

Do you sleep with stuffed animals?:
No.

If you won the lottery, what would you do first?:
Find a vehicle and get out of town.

Gold or Silver?:
Silver.

Hamburger or hot dog?:
Those really good HEALTHY hot dogs at English Bay.

If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?:
Raspberries or something.  Maybe oatmeal. 

City, beach or country?:
I'm a city person.  I like culture.

What was the last thing you touched?:
Grapes.  See...monkey me.

Where did you eat last?:
The Market at Lonsdale Quay.

When’s the last time you cried?:
30 minutes ago.  Damn this question is unfair.

Do you read blogs?:
YEAH!

What colour are your pants?
navy.

Would you ever go out dressed like the opposite sex?:
That would be rad.  I'd make a funny boy.  I'd look like an 8-year-old.

Ever been involved with the police?:
Hmmm, no.  I haven't even gotten speeding tickets.

What’s your favourite shampoo/conditioner and soap?:
I don't KNOW!  Soap: natural stuff that smells like Commercial Drive.

Do you talk in your sleep?:
I growl, laugh, and cry in my sleep...complete with tears and strange gesticulations.

Ocean or pool?:
ahhhh....ocean water hurts my skin.  I'm annoyingly sensitive.  Pool....with no chlorine.  But not much of a swimmer.  HOT TUB!!!

What’s your favourite song at the moment:
Woke Up This Morning by A3 -- intro theme song to The Sopranos.

Have you ever had a cavity?
Very small ones...not many.

Window seat or aisle seats?:
Window.

Ever met anyone famous?:
I've dated a couple "famous" people.  I have a few "famous" friends.

Do you feel that you’ve had a truly successful life?:
I'm fucking overly driven.  Flame under my ass.  I feel like I am being successful when I am following my dreams....and when those dreams are in-line with being a benefit to others.  I'm an INFP....not that that means everything/anything....but it helps to explain the flame under the ass thing.   

Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it?:
Cut.  I don't like the feeling of spaghetti flicking at my face.

Are you self-conscious?:
I've had to kill that sense a bit with acting.....but usually this works while acting only.  It's funny how I've been trained to turn it off....but I still get scared or self-conscious in certain situations.

Have you ever ridden in an ambulance?:
Yep, gallstones when B was only a few months old.  I was on a hospital waiting list....eating two pretzels a day, because anything more than that would cause a gall bladder attack.  (Gall bladders help break down fat.)  Anyway, the waiting list was too long.  A stone got stuck....and an infection spread.  TMI

Last gift you received?:
A beautiful card from B.

What occasion did you receive your gift?:
Being a mama.

Last thing you spent lots of money on?:
Books.

Where do you live?:
North Vancouver.

Last wedding attended?:
I HATE weddings. 

Favourite restaurant?:
BIN 942 and Havana.

What is your favourite kind of car?:
Prius.

Person on your mind?:
The Talking Heads.

What’s your least favourite chore(s):
All of them. 

Favourite drink?:
Cold water.  Fresh juice.

Change

image from Nature's Garden.

New agents.  New work.  New relationship status.  New takes on old friendships.  The only constant is change.  Some things solidify; others come undone. 

Superfly Magpie

image from Badger's Boudoir.

Conversation overheard between two magpies, British Columbia interior:

Magpie #1: wow

Magpie #2: ohhhhh wow

Magpie #1: wow wow

Magpie #2: woooow

Magpie #1: oh woooow wow

Magpies #1 and #2 in unison: WOW

***

I'm in the Okanagan for a few days.  Drinking, wearing short clothing, getting baked by the sun, living on the balconies, listening to cranked up music, reading, eating fruit, the way things should be.  It was nice driving here -- just me, loud music, windows rolled up tight to keep the soundwaves in, the road, some mountains and trees, a bit of snow even, an ugly car, but some damn fine sparkplugs.  I must say, my sparkplugs are amazing. 

Who's Bad

 

Michael Jackson *Bad* Face, with more lip.  Kinda like....

 

V Makes Punk B Laugh