I should be sleeping....

Or I could be working, I should be figuring it out. The xylophone has my head spinning, it is not a musical experience all that often enjoyed. I find that it takes me to the warm, the exotic, if only I could hear a steel drum, wham I would be away, I would be there, wherever that is? My headphones are affecting my fingers, I am swayed by the beat of it, the lyrical meat of it....the noise has usurped me, I am its swing and groove.

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Rants of the past, Part Deux

If they mock, scoff, write them off as incompetent. Fools they must be, archaic in mind and soul. Dumbfounded, foolheartedly hoodwinked by their religion , their false prophets, the holes in their constitutions. Wrong is their self-righteousness, wrong their sense of right and wrong. So let them cling to their sense of power, their us versus them. Their time, my friends, is near, the fog will clear, intelligence will trump dogma, stronger wills will prevail. The good fight is the only battle worth fighting, rights over rites, logic not profit. Carry on beautiful dreamers, your day will come.

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Rants of the past

Rant, rave, spit blood, take the kick to the balls, wallow in the mud. Laugh it off, strike back, act as if you know you are right. Write young man write.

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Wake up call.

Wordless, lost in time and space, too many people out and about…no time to digest, to digress, to repress, to decide if he is happy or depressed. This homeless man, this vagabond, this occasional writer of words, this man, whom everyone else would like to see write their story, has gone dry, he has run out of stories of his own. Promises himself that he will get down to it. He will write when all is finally quiet, when he can find the time, when he has THE story to tell. But all he is doing is pushing it all aside, procrastinating, or maybe he truly has nothing left to say. No one’s fault but his own, he has failed himself, his art..he has yet to learn discipline, how to practice his craft, he is an amateur, he simply dabbles. He is lazy.

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Time Rolls On......

July soon becomes August. If I only had a pause button, if only I could choose one perfect summer moment (there are, of course, too many to pick just one) pause it, force it to stay around for a bit, linger in it, enjoy it without fear of missing the next moment. If I could put my feet up a bit, if I could decompress a bit, if only I had time to take a bit more of it all in. But, no, no, time marches on, seasons change, decisions need to be made, plans formulated, leaves soon need raking.

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Deep Breathing..part II

Even when I am at rest, my brain fires. I rush from back deck, to kitchen, to laptop. I fear that time is chasing me down. I am a slave to the clock. What if I miss something?

Perry drives by, I see his tail lights, I therefore, do not wave..a missed moment? Or was it? If I had have waved to Perry, would that then have been an accountable event? Where is the story there?

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Deep Breathing.....

I drink a dark English stout. I stare at the cat, which is
relaxed on a pillow. Does he worry about time? Missed opportunity? He sleeps 3/4s of the day away. His main concern is slipping out the front door, an odd romp in the backyard, the chasing of birds, and bugs. I wish I were feline. Cat I am not. I am a neurotic human male. One with his own quirks. One that can not decompress. Rush, rush. I go and go. Stretch, yawn, scratch.

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Sitting, Relaxing, Messing About

Ahhh, a couple of hours of carefree nothingness. A short period of decompression. Life has been hectic. I fear that all this running about, is going to make the summer disappear. I have been enjoying every minute of it, and I do not want it to end. I need to take the odd hour here and there to take stock, to write it down, to enjoy it..to slow it down. I need to exhale.

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When the Moon is this Big

It must be the fact that moon is 3 times its normal size. This must explain why my feet barely touch the ground. My restlessness, explained by this strange lunar cycle, my mood ebbing and flowing with the tides. This grin of mine, these dimples I can't hide.

Or, or maybe I am solar powered, a hot, hot summer day has made everything gay, all is ok. The powerful combination of moon and sun. Oh and the Big Dipper that fits snug between two trees in her backyard. Its been a big sky week, fireworks and all.

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Farting Round....

The humidity has broke. I no longer sit and sweat, think and sweat, drink and sweat...ah. Today I relax, I lounge about, I sit, I gab, I try not to distract.

Should be a good day to write. To let the fingers do the talking, mental diarrhea expunged, brain emptied of stored up sludge...a soul oil change. Carry on, ignore the typing female at the other end of the couch. The cat that cuddles. The traffic that zooms by, the locals who peek in the window. Focus, center, write the unwritten. Carry on, move on, shuffle the bruised ass, now numb. Numb is fine, today, it seems right. Brain full of bollocks, no poetry, no grand ideas, simply words, spit out higgly-piggly for the sake of well, um well writing?

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The Gimp....

I arrive home after a night peddling beer and for the most part Digby scallops (they were all the rage, a 'special', that was actually special, minus the rice), only to hear the voice of Katie, which instantly made me grin...however, and egad, I spot the crutches, my heart sinks. Katie is damaged, she is gimped...sigh.

Ok, nothing broken, she has a badly bruised right foot, a work related injury (dangerous occupation that of an artist). All this is fine, (sucks to be her) because it allows me to coddle and spoil. I take care of my friends, does my soul good to protect, to make things well.

The image of her bounding through the house, a room at a time on crutches is a sight to behold. I am thinking that she might be a world champion calibre 100 metre crutchist. Para-Olympics here she comes.

Its good to tune out sometimes...

Things are a mess. The Middle East is on Fire. Ottawa has decided that it is politically expedient to piss all over the Maritimes, let them eat cake, Harper seems to think, and why not? His government has no need of our small block of votes. WMDs have been found, no not in Iraq, but in the Atlantic Ocean, the US seems to feel that they can willfully use the ocean as a toilet bowl for their spent waste..flush. On and on it goes. The news reel on repeat, a vicious cycle, nothing new here folks, close your eyes, plug your nose, grin and bare it.



So to heck with it, rant all I like, what does it matter, who is listening, who in the know, who in the upper-echelon really gives a hoot? I am going to enjoy the simple things, I am going to tune them out for the day. I will listen to Marvin Gaye, eat some pasta, drink some wine. I will enjoy the company of those I care about. Tonight I am going to pretend that everything is fine. Tonight I smile. Tonight I forget, thats what they want me to do anyway.

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Simple Pleasures

The joy of baking muffins. Of listening to Spanish guitar driven jazz while doing the dishes. Tearing up with laughter while watching an over-the-top comedy that poked fun at everything. Screaming at the sky, rain, rain, rain harder damn it. Last night was a good night. It was a good night because she and made it so by keeping it simple. MMMuffins!! Let it be known that rhubarb is good for the soul.

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Question everything..

It is intellectually dishonest to blindly follow our political, religious, business or educational leaders. They depend on a dumb, blind flock, they peddle their lies because they profit in stupor. I demand that every decision, edict, price change or theory be met with a why? Debate everything, stand up for your smallest and most grandiose ideas. Ask yourself why? It is just as dishonest to blindly cling to one's own philosophies, social mores, spending habits or past learning. Keep your eyes open, listen to everything, debate, always ask why? In the end the only honest answer you will find, is why not?

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Lost in the plot

It has been a struggle for me lately to write. It is not that my life has been mundane, I have been going all out and I have meet all sorts of interesting creatures. It seems that I have been more actor than playwrite. I have enjoyed being center stage, the belle of the ball and the talk of the town. My 'blossoming', enhanced of course by great friends and that certain buzz one gets when the weather improves, is healthy. A writer however, needs to be a recluse in order to produce (a little ten cent poetry there). A writer also has to experience life, they must be smacked by the ridiculous, smitten with the odd and unique, its matter of being out in it and then finding the time to write it all down. A friend of mine thinks that Annapolis 2007 will come pouring out of me as soon as I am away from it for awhile. Maybe she is right, maybe I simply need time to digest, this tiny post must be nothing more then gas or temporary bout of acid reflux...Tums Ta Tums Tums.

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The Mood I am in...

I am drizzly, I am clouded, I am hidden under the umbrella, ever self-consumed. Bored, worried, in need of a random sun burst or a thunderstorm, I need something to clear the air, change the climate. Nothing to worry about, I am simply house-trapped, concerned about finances, pensive of about the future and present. Trying to avoid the mud puddles, the sink holes that I too often fall into. Who am I today? Am I the world beater that I sometime project, or am I the aimless lad, the fella that floats through life, the guy that rarely succeeds, and yet has been known to fail brilliantly. Am I simply whining to whine? Bored by it all right now, missing a certain girl (or 2 or 3), I will sort it out, or at the very least survive, that I always do..I am a surviver, pants will be muddy, face will be red, I will sweat the small and the large stuff and yet tomorrow is another day. Rain in the forecast, who knows what my internal climate might be? Sunny with cloudy periods as usual I bet.

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Random..Where is my head at?

Its been summery, the leaves have popped, all is green. I have been unusually busy lately, I have not been able to ply my trade (if my trade is that of a writer, not a peddler of beers or flirter of girls). I find myself at a loss for words, I am lost in the plot, I have hit the wall. Life has not been mundane, I encounter interesting folks on a near daily basis, but it seems I have lost the ability to articulate. It might be more a matter of getting back on the horse, write to write, I may need to spit nouns, verbs etc, irregardless of meaning or style. To hell with the critics, or THE critic, the worst of them all being myself. Perfectionism is the bane of art..its sucks the soul, it steals words and ideas. I must plow through.



So the mission, giving the time and opportunity, is to carry on. Drop a note here and there. Not on weekly or bi-weekly intervals, daily, hell twice a day, maybe three times is the charm.. that or I strike out altogether.

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Funny these small towns...

It was 1:23 or so a.m. I was outside having my last cigarette of the night (bad bad bad, ya I know..this one was special, you will see), when I hear clop, clop and clop..a strange sound for that time of the night, Annapolis has a certain buzz at night, whether it be the refrigerators of the supermarkets or the street lights, but clop, clop and then clop?? I turn my head, what do I see?? That's the special, hold on I am getting there..dramatic effect..hold on, patience. I turn my head and wouldn't you know it 3 young deers are waking right down the yellow line on St. Anthony Street, they sense me, I may have coughed, sniffed or simply exhaled..maybe it was a wow, anyway it matters not, they froze for a moment, they sized me up, gave me the once over. They did not scatter, sure they had an extra spring in their step, their little tails were raised a bit, they were extra-sensory, but they went on their way, I put out my smoke, I went to bed happy, there is nothing like a close encounter with the planet's other inhabitants to replenish the soul. Godspeed my deers.

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Cough cough ... snort.

Egad, I have a killer spring cold. I am wiped out. The weather is as snotty as I am, I was under the impression the it was April showers, its May, come on Mother Nature help a fellow out. I need some sun, I need to sweat these germs away. Blah.



So I have decided that I need to write on a more regular interval. I have finished my journalism course, so, it goes without saying that it would be in my best interest to write as often as possible in order to keep my brain and fingers sharp.



This is not the appropriate venue to pop off on say current events, I have a political blog for that..this will be the place where my brain spills its beans, where all my excess brain plague will be placed.



More to come.......

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Haven't written for the shear joy of writing in awhile...

What with school, work and the spring fever, I have not had the time nor energy to write for kicks. I have completely abandoned this old blog-o-mine. For shame, I promise (not to be held to) to write some random musings on more regular intervals. A fella has to wax poetic from time to time..to purge the soul, to rhyme for the sake of rhyme.



Seems I am out of practice, the words as of yet, are not flowing..strange because you would think that now that spring has sprung that I would be filled with inspiration. To be continued....

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Blargh!!

The greyness, the hit you right in the bones frigidity of the Nova Scotia in April is testing my patience. I no longer want to worry if it may snow tonight, if I need a sweater, hell I am about done with pants all together. My spring fever is starting to ebb, to hell with spring, bring on summer already.

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A Random Muse.....

Egad this March weather, the tease of spring, followed by the smack of winter. Perfect for colds, my homestead sounds like an infirmary..with guttural hacking, and constant sniffing...It wouldn't surprise me if the town condemns the house as a bio-hazard.

Seems that I am about set to age another year..Wednesday I will be the ripe old age of 34...egad, I can feel a mid-life crisis coming on, maybe I should buy a motorbike. Nah, too dangerous, a good long adventure to parts unknown might do the trick though. What ya gonna do, you can complain about the weather or the fact that you might be getting old, but in the end you really have no way of stopping the inevitable. So bring on the snow, the sleet, the rain, and let father time chase me through the muck, he might be right on my tail, but he hasn't caught me quite yet.

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A Little Blast...

I am hyper and bored, I want to grab life by the balls, and yet all I have done is hide in the house today. The sun is going down, my urge to roam, my urge for kicks heightens. Do I go to the local pub for a steak and a glass of red wine?? Do I wait or the familial unit to get home from their day at the shops? What to do, what to do? Feet itch, as they do, my brain wanders, as it does. Saturday it is, I suppose the single young man that I am should step out.

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Too Big, For A Small Town

Egad, was I bouncing off the walls last night, I was Jonesing for a good time. The problem in all that is that in a town a size of Annapolis Royal, there isn't a heck of a lot to do.....well at least nothing new or exciting. What were my options last night, lets see...well I could have seen a performance of the Vagina Monologues (hmmm I single male, in a room full of aspiring feminists, discussing their tender spot...nope not safe), I could have spent 10 smackers to sit in a club and listen to an amateur cover band play 70s rock and country (umm no thanks, thats 2 drinks, and i would have needed those extra 2 drinks to stomach the noise)...I could have went to the pub, with the hope that a certain little barmaid who gives me the giggles may be working (I actually tried that, no barmaid, stayed for a beer, then left...good times). So what did I end up doing last night, well I came home watched a little English Premiership football until SNL came on, wrote a couple Annapolis Royal sucks ass emails to some friends from away, and yep went to bed grouchy. Oh well, I suppose it is for the greater good, I woke up this morning sans headache, prepared for what is sure to be a lazy Sunday. Damn this spring fever.

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Oh Poor Neglected Blog

Its been awhile..a mixture of nothing new to say, no time to say it and um maybe a batch of the writer's block. Best to try and plow through while in such a state..let the words do the talking. Can words talk sans tongue or voice box?? If a tree falls in a forest, and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?? Hell I don't know, my answer to the second question is of course the fallen tree makes a sound, how arrogant are we as a species to think that the whole of a forest grows deaf if one of us isn't there to record the event in our own ear drums...geez, the birds would scatter, the deer would leap, shite even the napping bear might stir. As for the first question, words might not talk but they are a powerful meduim, they can instill feelings of love, hate, laughter or tears. Ou!! Ok dats dat, I spit some quasi-philosophy, wrote a few words...as to whether these words talked, umm well, I am not sure, ask the recently fallen tree, see what he heard.

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Freakin Valentine's Day

If you haven't been smacked in the face by the cut-out hearts, Cupid's bare arse, and all the other uber-tacky Vday products that clutter the local shops, well you have been either living on the moon, or in solitary confinement. Yes my dear friends Capitalism's answer to the spending lull between Xmas and Easter is upon us. Wait, wait you may be saying Valentine's Day is a day dedicated to all things love...bullocks...it's a day where if you are single (a voila) you are miserable, and if you are coupled up you fear that you will mess the whole thing up (what male on the planet has any idea what a female wants, or what she is thinking). I mean really, what kind of true romantic gesture is it to give a girl a rose, a box of chocolates, or a cheesy 2 buck Hallmark card???..I am not at all against going out to a nice restaurant, eating a fine meal, drinking a nice bottle of wine then say spending the rest of the night being 'romantic' in the sack, but egad doesn't all that other shite turn me green. Right on, ok, the rant of a single male on Valentine's Day is over..enjoy it if you can..my day is coming in a month, bring on St. Paddy's day already.

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What Is It With Small Town Boys.....

that makes them feel the need to puff up their chests, fight for the sake of fighting?? I mean really, what is the point??? I could assume that if you were to analyze their behavior at its most basic animalistic sense, one could see it as nothing more then a simplistic almost instinctual mating ritual... like two rams bashing heads, survival of the fittest. I haven't got that gene..is it regressive, an abnormal gene, not shared by the vast majority of the human population...wait am I the one who is weird??? I haven't an aggressive bone in body, I tend to scope out the trouble spots in a social setting, and either avoid it, or I identify the most pressing threat to myself and those around me and try to neutralize that threat, pacify it if I can, I get on their do not attack list...I am not risking my pretty face on the off chance that it may attract the attention of those of the fairer sex...hell I am not all that sure that those ladies that are turned on by fisticuffs are my type of girl anyway. Why can't we be friends????

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Bored.....

Friday night, everyone but me has plans...can't receive my next assignment, because of some security certificate snafu...blah, blah, blah...one of those days where I wish I had a passport and a pile of money....would love nothing more then to leave on a jet plane. The life mundane, has messed my brain. Oh to be in Montreal, to hit St. Denis, to gaze at the lovelies (bundled yes, but delicious as only les belle filles de Montreal can be), to eat a fine French meal, drink a spicy red wine...just dig life. Nova Scotia in February is repressive...best to be expressive...bitch, cure the twitch..scratch the itch. Stuck in, devoid of fun, the urge is to run, run and run.

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Global Warming My Azz

Turns out Exxon Mobile is offering $10,000 to any scientist that will publicly refute the claims that global warming is primarily caused by human activity; hell I want in, I'd be willing to play faux scientist for a little quick scratch. Hell, I could even come up with some pretty damning counter-statistics, take the average temperatures for the last month or so in Nova Scotia for example...bah global warming, toss me those keys to the s.u.v....I am headed for a long trip south, and I am keeping the motor running.

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Amused Musings

The problem with small town Nova Scotia is that when you feel like hitting the town, when you would like to make an ass of yourself, your options are limited. Sure one could go to the local club, aptly named Grizzlies, the chances that you might actually have a good time at such an establishment are yep you guessed it grizzly. So what is a young ( good looking if I might add) fella to do with his bad self on a night like this?? Thankfully I have a few friends who keep me amused online when my brain wanders. When I dream of the bigger and the better, when my feet get the itch, I have good friends that listen to me pontificate, that let me randomly muse if you will.



I have resisted making any truly personal reflections on this blog, my fear being that a simple Google search with my name and blogs could lead certain females right into the inner workings of the brain of Joe. This of course has forced me to write shorthand that which I would love to blow at on line. Lets just say a certain girl whom I will not name, has reemerged of late, and is reeking havoc on my fragile brain. Involving me in her personal life, asking advice, comme tout est normale, comme tout est oublie...blllaaah, je pense que je dit toujours trop. Yes I use la langue francais as a safety net, a man has to hide behind something.

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A Spot of Canadiana

Global warming is for real, 4 out of 5 Canadians believe that they have experienced it first hand.... but if there is anything that is as Canadian as say maple syrup it is the fact that it will be as cold as it is going to get the last two weeks of January and the first two weeks of February. Normally this would make me want to crawl into a deep state of hibernation...fatten up, grow a beard generally bitch about the weather. But guess what, tonight I have decided to tip my hat to Mother Nature, why you ask? Well because, on the out skirts of the town where I reside there is a protected wetland, which because of the cold weather has frozen over, making a huge skating rink. Last Sunday my sister, her 2 daughters and I ventured out to this frozen wonderland, and to tell you the truth it did my soul a world of good. It has long been said that winter is a fantastic season as long as you get out in it and enjoy it for its virtues... the surly Joe would scoff at such a notion..bah I hate the cold, bah snow sucks, bah bah bah...but on this given Sunday with a pair of skates and ice as far as the eye could see, the kid came out, the cheeks shone rosier, all was good in the country known as Canada.

The Art of Joe

Seems I may have a minute, or perhaps a half a second, to rattle something off, yes the ever recurring; writing to write, a delicate ballet des mots, or the circus of the absurd. Somewhere in between the profound may exist... the challenge is to bang les bon mots out until, yes just maybe something worth mentioning is said.



Egad this is what happens when a go on an adventure, a trip with no destination; I tend to get lost, the challenge, hell the fun of it all is that in between space, where you aren't sure if you are closer to the beginning or the end of said adventure. Sadly je pense que cet belle histoire est fini .....yep, it's a fair bet that I should end this trip, that I should get back to reality, cease and desist the writing to write, because I am going in circles, and I am easily dizzied.

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And Then The Rain Came....

The wacky wild winter weather continues. It has gone from heavy snow, to frigid cold, to heavy rain all in the space of 4 or 5 days...madness really. Well golly gee I thought yet another weather bitch, might make good fodder for the blog....but I got nothing, seems my inspiration is dropping as fast as the rain....how's the weather anyway??...yep right, that is the universal, I am bored, the I haven't got a helluva lot to say, I am filling in time, trying to keep the dialogue a float....the weather is horrible as usual.... if you live in my part of the world, hell wait 10 minutes, it just might change. On and on I go, this direction and that, all in the quest of art, or maybe just an unconventional weather report.

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One Of Those Nights....

Where I feel compelled to write, just to write, to write because that is what I am expected to do, to write because it would be futile not to, to write because frankly it feels right. Strangely it is also one of those nights where I have nothing to say, no real news to relay, and therefore, I feel compelled to ramble, to blab, and gab about nothing at all. Simply filling in time, or am I wasting time, but what is time but a thing meant to be wasted, like money which is useless unless spent. On and on I go, my point being, and this is pertinent because...I am doing this why??? This must be an exercise in stream of consciousness, I am like a jazz musician, it is my time for a solo, blow Joe blow. Stop, oh shit begin, I have to end this with something, back to the start, there has to be some point to all this, some grand gesture, an important bit of symbolism, a moral to the story...um nope, its devoid of any of that, simply a spot of fun...writing to write, thats all right...right???

Some Thoughts On A Freakishly Warm January Day

Ah yes the last I checked it was the 9th of January, the year 2007 (still wrapping my melon around that inflated number), how then can it be 11 degrees at 20 to 1 in the morning??? What gives, are all the scientist types right??? Is this wacky blue planet of ours boiling over??? Last Thursday, January 3rd I suppose, I comfortably wore shorts, all day long....now when I was a young smart ass early 20 something type, I would try to pull similar stunts, the difference being that I would get home blue kneed...so whats to be done??? Do we grin and bare it??? Who really likes the sub zero cold of January in Canada anyway right??? Is there anything really that can be done??? The whole we have reached the point of no return debate. All I know is that something is amiss, it is far too warm, part of me is happier than a pig in shit, but the rational..the holy crap the world has gone to shit part of me (oh yes the dark side is strong in me), thinks we should maybe start thinking about cleaning up are mess.....that or leave the planet altogether, the rest of the earth's plants an animals seemed to keep a relatively clean house before we arrived.