Sunlight Through Trees

A not so linear chronicle

After The Police April 29, 2010

Filed under: Two Years — burgerday @ 4:45 pm
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I didn’t notice anything missing at the time.  But things were missing.  Lots of things were missing. 

Most importantly, the memory.

The police leave and I’m left bewildered.  There’s a note on the table.  It’s from one of the two guys the police thought were burglars.  They weren’t.  But they weren’t friends either.  The note tells me to come to a certain club I frequented at the time and find him.  I think to myself, the police would have seen this note. 

What were they thinking? 

Were they there? 

What wasn’t I being told?

So I take off to the club.  I’m surprisingly full of energy from having Napped? It’s dark. I’m looking for this individual to get some answers.  Why were the police in my house and what happened?  What did they do to me?  These mystery men.  These keepers of the memory I so desparately wanted to be part of.  I can’t find him.  So I dance… a lot.  Getting lost.  Staring off into space finding eyes to meet me there.  Eyes I would never really meet.  Monkeys swinging from the chandelier.  Or the army netting.  Deep down inside.

Morning comes quicker than anticipated.  I have a doctor’s appointment scheduled for 11.  I go. 

More bad news.


Outside Looking In April 28, 2010

Filed under: Two Years — burgerday @ 9:15 pm
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Since I was young I always considered myself a spectator of sorts.  Never fully experiencing life, but instead analyzing it, predicting it, from the outside.  Objective accounts.  I felt distant.  Isolated.  Lonely.

This past December I saw myself, or a self from the eyes of a broken self. 

Here I am, a vision of me lying but my consciousness not fixed in any location as one might fix their sense of place with where they can see with their eyes like when I write down these words and see me as the typist.

Instead, my self was fragmented.  This was not the first time.  It was a space I had become all to familiar with.  The mad man. 

But I was lost.  A place I had always been striving to get to, but in so getting, realizing that it was very much like death.  Death of my ego, my judge. 

In such a state unable to communicate, to participate, to love. 

Just able to be lost.

I am running.  Back and forth and I catch glimpses of this face that reminds me of something.  Suddenly I am Cal and my face, there, as a reminder that the Fugue does exist and there is something worth living for.  Come back is what it was saying.  Come back.

That time, I did.


Hiding Place No. 931

Filed under: Two Years — burgerday @ 4:26 pm
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I liked hiding.  That was my game.  Darting around the city on my bike.  Looking for my next hiding place.  Often I would find myself in High Park, combing the untouched forest for some hovel or nook to cover me up.  I especially liked the woods where it got real thick and all manner of life could remain out of sight, except for their own.

Being part of many worlds, many spaces.  A creative wilderness surrounding and within.  I felt safe there.  I felt understood at a time where many could not, would not.

I come out of my hovel for fear of being discovered and off on my bike again.  I’m heading downtown.  From Grenadier I get to Sorauren, Dundas and then College.  I’m going fast and the world is pushing me, free.  But sometimes inner and outer sight don’t match up. 

Today was to be that kinda day. I collide with a white van parked on the south side of College in front of a pub in Little Italy.  My right index finger splits in half, my chest sinks, and my right leg gets a hematoma that takes a month to heal. 

My finger never totally healed.  I call it FrankenFinger and let it remind me of places I’d rather not be.

Not without consequence.


Getting Lost

Filed under: Two Years — burgerday @ 12:54 pm
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Whether it be a derailment downtown with me in the bushes, hiding, fearing capture or imprisonment. 

Whether it be me, in a dark park, with my bike and my flashlight phone, searching out shadows and making the night dimmer than first found.

Whether it be banging on windows or walls to cast of the demons, cast of the followers, the ones bent on end.

Or whether it be the sad clown of Friday, the whispers, the madness closing in or that which was kept away.


in these spaces

an attempt

to get lost.


Going Off April 27, 2010

Filed under: Two Years — burgerday @ 9:04 pm
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After my blood was taken and I sat for some time I was brought back to a small room with a few chairs and waited.  My head was swirling.  Feelings of panic as the all that I was.  And the bells would go off. 

Doom factor engaged.  Peril overload.

It was a risky operation.

And another bell.  Some omnipotent tone to deafen/deaden, me.  Game on and I am going down to my resting place.


Missing Details

Filed under: Two Years — burgerday @ 8:28 pm
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I can look back now and see times, days when my world was changed in significant ways.

This was one of those days.

I wake up.  It’s just after 11pm.  There are three policemen at the end of my bed.  They’re asking me questions.  Asking me if I am ok, if I know where I am, if anything has been stolen and if I could get up and have a look around my basement apartment on Indian Road.  I’m startled and unsure.  Wondering why I was even sleeping.  I didn’t remember going to bed. 

I look around but didn’t find anything missing.  The police inform me that my landlady had called the police as there were two strange individuals going in and out of my apartment but I was not with them.  She feared they were burglars and she called the police.  I believed the story then, but what really happened in those moments before my rest are not so certain anymore.  

A life missing details.

This would be the first of many.

The police leave and later I realize my phone and keys were missing.  I found out what happened to my phone, but my keys, well, I never did find them.  And of the two who were thought of as being burglars.  I knew them.  Found one, but never saw the other, ever, again.

Missing details. 

My mom tells me to stop thinking about it.  To give it up.  I just can’t.  My pride too important. 

Or an impending sense of life being a big set-up.  Me being the big joke. 

I’m still in high school. 



A Haunted Garden

Filed under: Two Years — burgerday @ 4:05 pm
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The reality was I could never rest.  Safety was the perpetual prize, but it simply did not exist.  Not in my space. 

So  I walked.  Attempts to lose myself… getting lost in the city.

It’s early morning and the storm is upon me.  Under trees, between bushes, slipping and sliding about.  The park – my garden, my haven, until the dogs come out.

Onto me.  Trying to track my scent.  Sniff me out.  One final attack. 

I huddle.  Trying to conserve my heat.  Back up  against the wall of some random community/health facility.  I should be inside, but I’m not.  Huddled and I am homeless.  At least in that space for that moment.  My identity mutable.  Beyond repair. 

Shifting… perpetual.