All the Poetry I’ve Been Missing

This week has been a struggle. I’ve had just enough energy to survive the work day, and all I care to do is come home and lay down. All of my resources are tapped, and there’s not an ounce of creativity in me. Several lovely people have pointed out that perhaps I need this time where absolutely nothing is going on. I suppose that’s true. I also need a money truck to back up to my patio and unload it’s contents. And I need an all-expense paid, month long vacation in Italy.

And I need someone. Just a little.

I haven’t felt like that in a long time. I’ve wanted people for many of the wrong reasons. I’ve behaved like I need someone there most of the time. I’ve acted like I just can’t make do without someone to flirt with, and what have you. I haven’t really needed someone. It’s possible to continue to get by quite well on my own, and the idea of a summer of absolute freedom is not without its own allure, but I’m starting to wonder exactly what I’m doing.

There are certain things I need to address, and work harder towards resolving before I can really look someone in the eye and say “Yeah. This could work.” This is the major reason why I continue to be a singleton. I’m ok with this, it’s time, but there’s something about being sick, and feeling vulnerable to the point where you miss cuddling your mom that makes you kind of look at the bigger picture.

I haven’t had a lot of single time in my adult life. I’m coming out of two major relationships, back to back, and this time in my life feels like the fairly magical time when I was between high school and college. I felt free, and happy, and mad about my friends, and so very creative. The exception, of course, is this week.

Tell me, how does one make the most of the time they experience without a romantic partner in their life? I have my own formula, but I’m so curious to hear what else is out there. Are we confidant, and happy, and independent and fulfilled, or do we mask our loneliness by projecting these qualities?

Also, I’ve realized I’ve made bad on my promise to write poetry every day for April. In lieu of my own pathetic attempts, here is some poetry by a great master, as curated by some very good people that I know.

For you because I understand:

For you because you are true and noble:

For you because you inspire me:

For you, and our talks and spiced oranges:

For you, because I think you can hear my thoughts:

My current choice:

And one for your sad and beautiful eyes:

And for you because you are so sweet to me:

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Coming At You Live from the Sick Bed

Thank you for being a friend...

Thank you for being a friend...

*This entry contains more colourful language. What can I say?

When I was little, whenever we would get sick, my mom would make us a sick bed. This would consist of draping a fresh, crisp sheet over the entire couch, and tucking it over us, then layering heavier blankets on top. She was also always at the ready with a fresh, cool pillow. A small footstool was at hand with Kleenex, a paper bag (for used Kleenex), a glass of ginger ale with ice and a straw, and sometimes a plastic bucket underneath. Today I’ve re-created this set up, sans bucket, and it is immensely comforting.

It seems I’m losing my week-long arm wrestle with this cold/flu thing. Despite my mother’s concerns, I’m fairly certain that it is not Swine flu…unless you can contract that from eating excessive amounts of bacon. (She also warned me this morning that ingesting raccoon feces can be fatal. I fear she may have some serious misconceptions about the kind of life I’m living here in Toronto…)

People have been kind in sending me various articles, videos, and other tidbits to amuse myself with, because in my typical needy, narcissistic way, I broadcast my illness to the world of Facebook, so I thought I’d share some of these distractions in case any of you are also feeling under the weather, and a little bit bored.

First, this very interesting article from my favourite spiritual adviser:

You can probably skip the video component, but here is the link to MSNBC.

The subject above really fascinates me, and I thought it was timely. Last night I attended a screening of feminist porn, sponsored by the Toronto store Good For Her. I was curious about what exactly made pornography feminist. I am not personally a fan of the standard in this genre, so I was hopeful it would be enlightening. Based on the examples we were given, feminist porn is largely geared towards lesbians. With a comfortable niche carved out by the trans-gendered community. The only hetero example was shot like a soap-opera, was definitely softer (on the core scale), but it rather felt like it was produced by the Harlequin people. Give me good ‘ol Anais Nin any day.

Moving along…

I rented the first season of Big Love, the HBO series. Fascinating stuff. Also timely, and topical. Imagine a matriarchal polygamist structure? This could really be something. Like the queen bee, and her workers, and honey makers. Yep. Something indeed…

Then I was directed to the Onion website. This was a bi-product of some Facebook Creeping. (Mom, Facebook Creeping is when you voyeuristically check out other people’s Facebook profiles.)

I found the following videos there, which made me laugh out loud:

Should We Be Doing More To Reduce The Graphic Violence In Our Dreams?

Study: Children Exposed To Pornography May Expect Sex To Be Enjoyable

In other exciting news: I was caught on the streetcar in the middle of a sandstorm yesterday, and the whole thing filled with dust; the raccoon on my patio is off today, but last night was brave enough to come close enough that I could almost touch him; The LUNCH BOX at Keele and Bloor makes the greatest vegetable beef soup in the entire world; I have not given up on my plan to go on a date with George Stroumboulopoulos; Toulouse lives on, but has now taken to hiding among my rack of costumes; and it may be the flu, but I think Bill Pullman is kind of sexy.