particulars of a dream

I never happen to know exactly what to talk about. I belong to a certain class of people who never seem to accomplish anything, and simple as that. Who try to make beautiful things, or beautiful discoveries, but can't. Every line I write conjures up other lines, better lines, from other writers. Every image I paint, conjures up better images from better painters. Every scientific discovery I make already discovered. So again I come to think about the end, death if you will, and how I should stop beating at doors I’ll never enter or anyone will ever ring. So I’m a bit agitated if you will.

Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night and scramble to write down the particulars of a dream or whatever. I awoke at 2 in the morning. As always, brewing something cataclysmic. As I sat on my desk looking at something scrawled on my monitor. There were two words written on dust. Help me. A message from days ago, speaking to me. I looked out the window, and wondered as I wrote this.

Uncle John died while in his sleep. He was my late grandmothers’ brother and the last of a generation. Uncle John had came from the reserve to visit us on several occasions; the last time we were in the same room had been during the family funerals nearly 5 years ago for his beloved sister followed by his niece. It’s heart-rending to think that the final moments we had shared together were in such circumstances but through our tendencies of brood emotional history and tears of general confusion he found a place in each of our hearts and brought us hope. I would like to take this opportunity to extend my most heartfelt sympathies to his immediate family and those closest to him. He will be missed. For so long, and good-bye.

I drank a small glass of lemonade, and went back to bed.



I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t feel like the end of an era. A life without a cause. And while I have said repeatedly that this representation of myself and my work might not be seen again, the last couple of years have left a warm impression on me.

For a lot of years I did not particularly like or have anything in common with anybody. It was an awkward situation, one in which the tension never abated and rarely produced the sort of friendly moments that one expects between people who spend a considerable amount of time together. Looking back, though, I can honestly say that I wouldn’t change it given the chance. The mistakes I made during those years, the trials endured and pains succumbed to, taught me far too valuable a lesson and helped open my eyes to a much larger world. Outsiders often equate such things in terms of their own, but to me that is dwarfed by the quiet, solitary, contentment that I now enjoy in comparison to those years lost in a haze of negativity. Let it be damned. While I am grateful that I have few readers established here, I’m no longer in the sort of place where I’m willing to trade my emotional well being for your mind-sighted product.

That said, things as I imagine can never be for everyone’s absolute pleasure. I acknowledge those of you who I may not have chance of speaking with in person again, to those of you who are diversely talented and utterly professional in your own ways, whom, at some time supported whatever endeavours I saw most fit for myself to experience prior. For that I thank you.

So what now? That’s the big question. I do have to make some tremendously personal changes this year, as I do happen to owe myself. I find myself in a new and strangely exciting position from time to time, so I’m somewhat unfamiliar with the proceedings. Sitting here I know that I cannot waste opportunity, that I must take the sort of chances that I once did, staring into the night’s sky in search of stars while laying undone on a parking lot. I sigh on how once engaging in unknown territory was routine. Hopefully I will do just that, and to the utmost of my ability. To each of you I wish the same, we owe it to ourselves and no less.