Years ago, I woman with whom I had been intimate, gave me a copy of Anais Nin's Little Birds. She had hand-written pages of a poem on the blank pages, I think, about six pages. Poems by lovers have always tended to be not very good, so I did not actually read her poem for several years. When I did, what I found was a vivid detailled poetic description of how I did oral sex for her. I was amazed, and touched. She had called the poem, "For the nights when I am no longer with you." Years later, I lent the book to a colleague. He did not return it. When I asked him, he denied having borrowed it.

Maybe I'm making assumptions but somehow I don't think young people (teens to those in their 20's) care about the washed up clown....she should give up....but then again there's lots of suckers out there.

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To love harmony. I want to feel like things flow with my relationships, needs, and communication. But it's all in disarray. Snags at every turn. Why is it so hard. Like an orchestra perhaps the aspects of myself are unpracticed and the instruments within are out of tune, rusty, and my timing out of sync. I am forming, soon to storm. I want this to feel normal. I want to play, weave within the melodies of self, and feel the pulse on the floor that connects us and our humanity. But first I storm.

VANCOUVER DOESN'T KNOW HOW MANY HOMELESS PEOPLE THERE ARE IN THE CITY .... Does this relate to how many heartless people crave positions of authority and power over others in our immature society ?

Coffee. Daily Confessions. I'm not asking for much. *Eye twitch intensifies*

Maybe I'm a jerk, but it doesn't seem right to me when someone solicits donations from their community for expenses they can't afford AND chooses to go for unnecessary extras.

About a lot of things and guess what I now have the last piece of the puzzle, the piece that makes the whole picture quite clear. Not a pretty picture ! I tell you this if things don't start changing in a more positive light I'm going to sing like a damn bird. Sing I tell you . Sing Cautionary Tale

I miss the days of making the trek to Van, crashing on a friend's couch, wandering the neighbourhoods, looking for parking near West 4th to get to Zulu Records, listening to everything recommended by staff, and crossing the street for sweet and savoury crepes. It was a time when the Coquihalla still had a toll. The city smelt of petrichor on rainy days. There was a lively buzz in the air. Chinatown felt larger. I'd never heard of Lululemon. Sushi was exotic compared to my small-town fare. My god the food. Calling ahead to ask on the quality of the pearls that day for bubble tea at Dragon Ball and bringing extra cash. After experiencing banh mi from Bale I was sold. This would be my new home. I fell in love with the raccoons. The shy skunks known to forage around 2 am. Diving crows protecting nests. Finding kinship with blue herons by sea at sunset. So many hydrangeas. Fist bumping lion statues at each Vancouver Special. Discovering Breka and finding a midnight haven amongst patrons. That first time climbing Grouse Grind and finding comfort on the places worn on rails and trees by hundreds of hands steadying themselves in their ascent. Riding the skytrain like it's a carnival ride and switching sides to marvel at the landscape. Wandering the booths at the Richmond Market and losing myself in the crowd. Concerts in the living rooms of heritage homes and feeling the pulse in the old wooden floors as everyone tapped in time. Grilled cheese at The Rio. Cherry blossoms in Queen E Park. Someday I will have to leave you, yet all the things I've loved about you will remain with me.

The degree to which people are so fucked up is now astounding me. I never understood the capacity or the depths that some would go too, the fact that another human being could be so evil and ridiculous even existed but on television shows. To see it first hand before your very eyes blows ones mind. Has the whole world truly gone mad ? Holy Shit !