the mEp
s  e  ptembe2001
Lyrics of Life

OCTOBER came early this year

photo album

september 29  2001     LÖRDAG9:05AM GMT +01:00


saturday morning in sunny stockholm, wasting my time on cheap talk and wine?
there's a million songs to sing rings around in the land of wool blazers and turtle necks; where milky white skin outshines tight skin-tight! grey flannel pants
where they could be thinking that same thing as me, as we pass in the street or we vie for a seat on the commuter train, where Kort Tag means 'short train'.

i'm still not sure what 'consultants' know, will i ever be one, and where they sit around for a long time waiting for things to begin. and some of them, with 'expert' in their business titles, chuckle as i ask if they are really experts.i've moved from one place to another but i recognize this place and they recognize me too. we join forces and i'm pleased that they are those with whom energy can be joined.

photo album courtesy of my brother!

__________________________________________________________________september 27  2001      THURSDAY7:50AM GMT +01:00

comfy sleep and poots awakes rested for a change. 

thanks God for that and for knowing cheese. i suppose there are many more than not, us canajuns who do no know cheese. shame. turnings and whirlings of things that - ! - really don't concern me much. i'm here, outside the bubble watching from the inside. never matter, the kaffegradde is good and some friends are around today.

so there is an odd combination of what is going on in the world; a mix of unbelievable good with a dash of unbelievable bad. some of the good is very close, as poots and boots reach for stars in a globally sad time. i imagine that there always was this indiscrepant mixtures. like this. one enjoys it less if one has a conscience. but once one is over jetlag one begins to see things that were hidden before.

i've got new theories, yes, but today i'm trying to remain in the peaceable moments. in the dancing air. i'm just trying to spell things out in a lyrical fashion,a visit to my private place, in a quiet moment, what i've been waiting nearly a week for. i enjoy this ; this meditation, this time alone; my thoughts on the wall, however thinly veiled; however insignificant.

we'll see if prisextra has some espresso beans; and thanks to the girl who explains what breadcrumbs are. 

and don't come here lookng for explanations of war;
don't see my words and think me indifferent,
don't pass me off as a pacifist immediately - i may well be,
but i have my opposing views too.
you have to see the important things from venus,
people, although there is no one here to whom i need to say that.
a sorts of preaching to the converted methinks; and then i begin to wonder what they would preach and what i would read in those words.
i cannot take my 30-something female acadian glasses off,
but i can open the book backwards and read it upside down.
i can watch myself from venus and that's a start too.
but don't you forget it,
i can watch you from venus too and often i am,
often i am. 

september 25  2001       TUESDAY8:16AM GMT +01:00

five suns follow us, the white coffee mugs are smooth. the water makes my skin soft or is it the practically artic air?
visitors confirmed; grocery stores have food. allowances are handed out.
email server on the fritz, whatís that, expensive? chianti is 20% cheaper than home.
there is a magic in the air Ė the only words that come out to describe what is the combination of us, and this place. an unpredictable trio that just seems to work.
a relaxed air swoops over us. something is familiarĖ is it winter? iím comparing side by side to LA, to the feelings i had in that place, to the fear, the endlessness of it all. was it just perhaps too big, or too large for life...i canít tell.

there is more but i shouldrun.

groggy (earlier)

ok so this is September; nearly over; many world events leaving the mEp a quiet place.
but poots is still here, with many thoughts and a soft back.
the wafer laptop grinds loudly; throws me off. The sound has to go somewhereÖ
CNN in our face gives us something to watch; and a movie channel, iím blank.

iíve got hard brain and the grinding sounds like grinding in my brain. iím staring at you in a stunned silence; silence both physically and mentally as the sound of this machine grinds into my brain.

iím not waking up yet. iím looking for thoughts.
iím moving slowly today; iíve got to get these words out;



september 22  2001            Saturday PM

poots and boots have made it safe and sound.
itís a pretty sane place so far.
Weíve got CNN and discovery too ;-)
a lovely white apartment and a spectacular view


Iíve got my finger on it.
Iím far more proud of the accomplishment of becoming mature, however faulty a state I may be in, than of being successful. The latter I expected; the former, never in my wildest dreamsÖ

and here is where I get to admit it.
what more could one ask for.



september 19h  2001            wednesday AM

have you come here for solace;
for an understanding and acceptance?
and in a sense we preach to the converted<
and answer questions such as Ďcan we fight evilí
is my goodness in this vacuum, useful?
we speak foreign tongues, evil andi.
Im pointing north and itís standing facing west.
nothing to do. Nothing to say.
Iím not even sure I see it.
and Iím quite convinced it doesnít see me.
what do I do with such a fate, Iím not sure where to go.
so we all turn to God Ė funny, all of us turn to God
to remind ourselves that good exists.

pootsy isnít highly motivated this morning, java seems to have gone thru me. Letís check the pot ok. Three more sips in the java pot, tepid but not tea. Scotch breath wakes one in a feverish fear; is the world falling down, over and over and over again. 8.20 am now.
like a geeky that I am Iím downloading and configuring. But things are never as beautiful as they are in these red pages, warm and comforting, private yet public Ė hi mark! Ė a place where Iím alone but not. Could there be a better place? Where you can speak your mind outloud but in private, Iíts a beautiful thing and probably the most placid of all. Itís something you have to do to understand it. So many people ask me why, so many have never done it. 8.23 and I still have time. Some of us believe that if we write things down, take everything that is in our thoughts, and splay them on pages, then weíre done what we can to explain things. Iím one of those. And if itís only private therapy then so what. 

Be not afraid;
I go before you always
come, follow me
and I will give you rest.


september 18th  2001                      tuesday 7:43 PM

i can speak my tongue in non foreign lands and i don't kn ow if allunderstand but i feels good to sometimes know you are speaking the truth and nothing but the truth: but it can still be difficult...

these are the words that speak themselves, the words that are subtle
the words warped in time ; wrapped around yourself and slung up by a goo single malt
oops, a good single malt!

and then you can come home feeling so home, and is there a bigger feeling than coming home...
and you know that there are some in the world who wrap you up and whose lives you affect,

september 16th  2001                      SUNday

Be Not Afraid
by: The St. Louis Jesuits

You shall cross the barren desert
But you will not die of thirst
You shall wander far in safety
Though you do not know the way
You shall speak your words to foreign men
And they will understand
You will see the face of God and live

Be not afraid, I go before you always
Come follow me, and I will give you rest

If you pass through raging waters,
In the sea, you will not drown
If you walk amid the burning flames
You shall not be harmed
If you stand before the powers of hell
and death is at your side
Know that I am with you through it all

Be not afraid, I go before you always
Come follow me, and I will give you rest

Blessed are your poor,
for the Kingdom shall be theirs
Blessed are you that weep and mourn
For one day you shall laugh
And if wicked men insult and hate you
all because of me
Blessed, blessed are you

Be not afraid, I go before you always
Come follow me, and I will give you rest

#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------#
#This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
#song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #

Song: =good mother
Band: =jann arden
Tabbed by: =geoff kennedy
tab=Good Mother
Jann Arden
tabbed by Geoff Kennedy

guitar tuned down 1/2 step to Eb

E        B           C#m
Iíve got money in my pocket
           A               E
I like the color of my hair
     B                C#m
Iíve got a friend who loves me
            A               E
Got a house, Iíve got a car
           B            C#m
Iíve got a good mother
        A                      E
and her voice is what keeps me here

Feet on ground
Heart in hand
Facing forward

Be yourself
E   B  C#m                   A
I,         Iíve never wanted anything
   E        B    C#m                   A
No Iíve, no Iíve,    Iíve never wanted anything
E      B   C#m  A
so bad...       so bad

E         B                C#m
Cardboard masks of all the people
Iíve been
E               B               C#m
thrown out with all the rusted, tangled
       A                   E
dented God Damned miseries
          B               C#m
You could say Iím hard to hold
But if you knew me youíd know
E       B              C#m
Iíve got a good father
        A                         E
And his strength is what makes me cry

Feet on ground
Heart in hand
Facing forward

Be yourself
E   B  C#m                   A
I,         Iíve never wanted anything
   E        B    C#m                   A
No Iíve, no Iíve,    Iíve never wanted anything
E      B   C#m  A
so bad...       so bad

A-B-C#  G#  A#m  F#  C#  G#  A#m  F#

E        B           C#m
Iíve got money in my pocket
           A               E
I like the color of my hair
     B                C#m
Iíve got a friend who loves me
            A               E
Got a house, Iíve got a car
           B            C#m
Iíve got a good mother
        A                      E
and her voice is what keeps me here

Feet on ground
Heart in hand
Facing forward
Be yourself

Heart in hand
Feet on ground
Facing forward
Be yourself
        B        C#m
just be yourself
just be yourself

E  B  C#m  A

E       B
Feet on ground
C#m      A
Heart in hand
E       B
Feet on ground
C#m      A
Heart in hand

Fade until end

september 15th  2001                      saturday

what do they pray for?

_______________________________________________september 13th  2001 thursday

headaches and wine
images horrific
pressure in my spaces
waken in the night; strange noises, like a child, frightened.
angry.  what's that world, what's my world.
flight cancelled. no one helping me, this isn't what it's like to be an adult,
there are adults who care more than this. adults who take responsibility,
i hope i am one of them - how can i prove to myself that i am one of them.
we are in something we never thought we'd be in.
we are watching the ideologies of the world collide:
violence and the toleration of violence ... it's closer than we think.
we are witnessing global events - in it's sickness, it's cowardlyness,
a global picture emerges. it involves us all even after the sadness we don't understand.

september 12th  2001


september 11th  2001                            earthen vessels?
i have theories that are brazen.
things i won't write here. won't write anywhere.
does this make me outspoken? an artist? rebel?
or merely foolish.
there was a time when i could have known; of which i belonged...

sometimes i would need my hair.
today it would be nice.
and we - we have each other for home as we journey into destinations unknown. "thru earthen vessels unknown"
we have each other for home.

"when you touch my weary head,
and you tell me everything will be alright
you say, 'use my body for your bed'
and my love will keep you warm throughout the nite
you're my castle; you're my cavern and my instant pleasure dome,
i need you in my house cause you're my home"

sometimes i would need my hair.
iíd hold onto it today.

september 7th  2001
mutual friends dream of mutual friends and i come home to a card,
thinking about friends.
maybe the ones who have made bad choices are the ones with the best advice? they seem to sound smarter, that's for sure.
it's friday night at 9:14 and even tho a cosmopolitan calmed my nerves i am having no more desire to imbibe. iím in a non imbibing phase, more feel like power walking. that part of town is saner; people kinder, cosier restaurants and more sanity in general. too bad getting there turns me all around. my parents are horrified that i have a hangover; iím not sure what they expect. they didn't raise a namby pamby. i dunno.
when iím watching iím watching. iím thinking, wondering, anallyzing, criticizing. when iím here and your red pages stare back at me, i see a blank. i see the blankness that is possible in all of us; the simplicty of life as i find my underwear on the floor and from venus observe myself from other people's eyes and then jump back into tom's eyes who doesn't watch those things because he's free. i don't watch them but i watch me watching them and that's nearly as bad. maybe worse.

here, it's just the summary of all the millions of fired neurons of the day.
i can't see any perspective other than mine and it will have to suffice.
iím not too sure what else to tell you, really.

except maybe the neighbours should put some tennis balls under their chairs too.

"take the simple and the ordinary and;
make it into the happy and wonderful
you can do it anyday
-author unknown

september 5th  2001                                        anniversary day
cooler winds blow through the shades now,
tickets are issued and little capilaries begin to mesh with endorphins, sending us into some kind of awareness of what's going on. memories of european towns with sausages hanging in the reflection, or currencies strange and odd-shaped toilet seats. i wouldn't want these things to ever become normal  for me. coming home will be nice, but going away will be ever so temporary. These are not the kinds of things that one can easily pen. smells are only for olfactory, and sights for the widest eyes, as wide as an archepelago.

poots is in a ballet frame of mind; shoulders and sinuey forearms. feeling romantic all by myself, seeing this city with my movie-vision, who says anne heche is crazy?

brilliant fall sunshine flits thru and then lands on wilting geranium leaves.
all they know how to do is photosynthesize; and me, i can do that too.
cleaning the sink is a form of synthetic. i can recognize the civility in it, but do not preoccupy myself with civilizations. warmed beet salad with just the right amount of fresh squeezed lemon; roasted squash on an open fire; peeling asparagus, no matter how expensive - ! - and finely ground italian espresso beans, just so, just dripped, just perfect, who could deny the perfection of food. not i, not never. we need to make more movies about eating.

to walk up that hill or not, pootsy asks herself.

august 31  2001                                        freeday
chewing chewing little poots doesn't even know the date.
we're in some altered state. what to do with the end of august...
java done and poots groggy. woke early.
poots needs a stretch - - - and a massage achy achy little bones
run up that hill with all your mite: this is your town baby.
dust is settling as piles of messes are put away.
travel request forms and other papers fluff fluff fluff ask me IF I REALLY CARE. iím in a 'zona pelucida' - vacuum world after talks with the wise one! who's waiting to be 65. lol.

yep this is accurately reflecting things now - but the focus is hidden midst it.
shame. because the focus gets clear clear in the misty misty. i feel quite STRONG now. getting stronger every day....

learn to sit up straight no matter how geeky it looks. be kind to your body.
feed it when it says feed me or you'll become mentally ill. no pun intended.
lean to the right, left. stretch when it needs stretching. why so physical you ask? some times are just physical, i guess.

yes these are ramblings and good ramblings too - like iím on the verge of discovering something more about me - about us - here in this place that connects us to japan and stockholm with click clicks here and there it's another miracle that we're used to.

iím not sure what part of me feels unused these days.
i know which parts ARE used and that's a good thing.
i can wrap those around the others and come up with a finished product.
sometimes it's just nice to feel ahead of the game, strong enough to pray for people, for myself, and for you too.

when things become so clear they become so dull;
why stay interested the clear?

august 28th  2001
twinklings and bubblings in the poot stomach!
lists, tickets, and luggage thoughts. chewing chewing.
entering my deepest thoughts are empty like, iím in a 'do' phase, no time for ponderation. sometimes, it takes two.

now it's tuesday and the air is still. the restful summery days are here, for us.
unquantifiable things; walking to the video store, jogging down the hill, and planning annual camp trips. july is for franticness; august is for restfulness while most are in a state of frenzy again. the morning roads fill up and back to school is everywhere. the weather says idyllic; from  montreal to new york is a strange place, the nephew is off to japan! and will i be able to walk my morning walks over there?

"poetry of ordinary life is what i live for " - v.s.

august 27nd  2001                                                                    ignorance is bliss
ignorance.   it really gets you off the hook.
iíve got these huge theories about what happened to me on saturday as i re-arranged and piled up 170 notebooks in front of me-but unfortunately it's not easy to put into words and if i did it might end up being 170 notebooks long. in fact, i suppose it is. you're welcome to read it, anyone is. iím getting closer and closer to transcribing the entire thing. in fact, these days they and the mEp are getting more and more simliar as i speak of real life accounts here. but this is all dull.

iím in need of some fantastical stories now and i have them. they're just not quite coming out. the newport mug seems to empty quicker and quicker as i begin the countdown. people from all over are wanting to come and visit us during our european expedition. is that fantastical enuff? georgie was thrilled to hear it and family is happy that we are coming back for sure this time. 'destination unkown' as hangs in our doorway since 1994 becomes earily eary.
but this time there are NO FEARS. the energy is right. don't know how to prove that, but i just know it. maybe some nice prose will come from this box once we arrive, who knows. it's not coming now so iím outta here.

17 days. and counting.

august 26nd  2001                                                                    compilations
poots is in compiling mode.  as the air thins out, the energy is transformed into actions. paperwork still to be done; but she has completed a milestone activity in the world of paper diaries. inspired ! to re-read certain sections of my life, iím thinking about eras and people that were completely lost in my active brain. iím thinking about relationships that my adult brain doesn't remember, thoughts and feelings that were so much more juvenile than i could ever have imagined. and it's all written down like an ugly drawing that you love because your child did it. and you can't believe that you were that child and that you don't remember being that child but you know you were and now your fanatacism has allowed you to relive it momentarily.

um there's alot more than that going on these days - many life things churning in parallel, iím probably ignoring or misplacing someone. iíve been sending emails, iíve been speaking to close friends, not as many as in 1984, but there are still alot and the comparisons are dumbfounding. merely realizing that iíve actually grown up is some kind of small miracle. identifying more things about myself than i knew existed; watching who i was watching me change; am i so intrigued because the change is so dramatic? or am i actually still that same person, as Berdj said last night- have i learned to close the cover of the nuts? who knows, iím not sure i want to. i think there's a part of our brains that we simply never go back to - and not because it's not there anymore, that's the scariest part.  i only know this because i can read it, we don't all have that luxury.

iím thinking now that maybe that's the case - and it's a sad case. or is it, as he said, merely animal instinct? i wonder now if that explains alot of this world...

well the total count for those who care (i certainly do) is about 170. of course that does not include the mEp, which now totals approximately 600 typed pages. i guess in handwriting, that might translate to double. there were several that i could not find but from eras i was less interested in yesterday. i actually thought there were a whole lot more. now i must protect them from fire. the most prolific year seems to be 1979 but it may be 1980 since my handwriting probably got alot more accurate in 80. you just can't imagine how freaking grown up you think you are when you're 16 years old. it's truly a freak of nature. and then at 36 - ! - which is my current age as of wednesday - you learn about yourself things you can't even imagine and you realize that maybe you don't know anything at all.

and you smile.


august 22nd  2001                                                                    learning
once in a while i still get the urge to learn. wireless spectrums, tony bennett, from here on it's all details. subtleties, nuances from the edges of life's curves.
with the wireless stuff, some of the basic tenets of spectrum physics  have very much changed from my girlhood and others have remained scarily the same; as for tony, it's utter magic  how he could set off memories of a world that i never even knew and create that sinking pit feeling  in my oesophagus . a world filled with the preciousness of time that didn't even know it was so. a society that defined a type of  romance that exists only in our ability to look back at it. and there he is, in the middle of 2001 cell-phone land, conveying the essence of that world to me in a moment so private iíve forgotten it already. this only shows how timeless and pure magic what he does is. iím not sure which is more of a miracle, that, or carrying voices and data invisibly through the air.  and then there's the possibility that iím just getting older. funny that.


august 20th 2001
iím being a lazy girl;
with my over sugared coffee i stare back at the meowing cat next door,
wondering what all the fuss is for.
iím not fat but a nice tan is slimming.
left, right, what was it i wanted to write?
tick tock. tick tock. file save.
christmas snoopy stares back at me reminding me of how quickly things change. one, two, three, our little 'too-good-to-be-true' mousekateer gang will be effectively completely disbanded as of september 13th. it's weird the way he left, never mind weirder how she did; and now here i go, we go, on yet another journey. and the crazy part is, fortuitous a generous amount yes but the irony of it is, that we feel perfectly contented here and iím wondering if berdj will disappear again this time. i certainly hope not.
i have no grand soliloquies to write (or spell?);
iím not feeling too much rush of emotion;
iím not packing;
iím not really doing much at all.
iím following what seems to be a pre-scribed route, with grooves that keep me on it.  yet some see life's offerings as scary change or decisions that mean uncertainty. well yes i suppose they are. but i can't imagine having ONLY certainty in life. perhaps if one had no certainty in other things then one would need it in a daily life. for me, i merely see the route forking ahead and see no other choice but to take the road that goes unknown. especially as i see it going uphill. this is all i am thinking, really. iím thinking about wearing suits and working with foreigners; iím thinking about seeing Shashi again for the third time, and perhaps having some visitors who will sleep on an air mattress. iím thinking about being several time zones  from santa barbara,  and of my plants which someone else will water. these are mostly what occupies my thoughts; nothing more complicated really, on this journey.
iíve barely seen my sister all summer;
the cooler air is welcome respite;
and iíve not to spend trips with water buckets to keep the flowers alive.
something is keeping me from climbing that hill, iím not sure what it is,
iím contented here where i am;
i love to see the little letters fill this page:
and just being here,
in the moment,
in the breezes,
with a shiny table,
and little red snoopy smiling at the world;
is quite rewarding,
and me.

and the puss, still meowing out the second story window.

remember, iím a netscape girl.



copyright Poot's Place 2001