Sunlight Through Trees

A not so linear chronicle

Points May 27, 2010

Filed under: Previously Recorded — burgerday @ 12:03 pm
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Points

At my heart.

Makes me little again.

Alternative (super)imposed.

Drawn out with delight.  Closed curtains and fright.  Sleepless night.

Worries that you’ve gone too far… especially theirs.  Cares gone, spent on the trivial, the sabotagueical, the naive and unreasonable.

Railways and bushes and watering holes.

Parade of mad monsters.

Now we meet again.

With what result?

Prayer

 

Sometimes It Stops Raining May 5, 2010

Filed under: Peace — burgerday @ 8:59 pm
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It was raining pretty hard today.  It was brilliant.  One of those cleansing kinda rains.  So needed.

I’m on my bike heading to a volunteer meeting and the rain has let up, but in my mind, I’m sure that when I get out it will be pouring.

The meeting finishes and I make that remark that I’m sure it’s pouring outside right now and the ride home won’t be as sweet.  I was already late for the meeting because the rain was too fierce.  So I go outside and wait for a friend who was also in the meeting and it’s spitting outside, about the same as when I arrived.  My friend comes out and we walk and chat and hang out for a few minutes in the park.  We are about to split and I realize it had stopped raining.  In fact it was so clear and remarkable.  I hugged my friend and said this was a good omen.

I need to realize that there are times, in life, when it stops raining.

Peace.

 

Too Many Christmases April 29, 2010

Filed under: Random — burgerday @ 6:00 pm
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I realize now… that’s my problem. 

I have too many Christmases. 

Too many nights, laying awake, unable to sleep… anticipating the next day and the next. 

Too Many Christmases.

 

After The Police

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.

Always

in these spaces

an attempt

to get lost.