HOME IS WHERE IS HOME.

Without the summers heat, we've moved to a flat with a graveyard across the street. 

Home has situated itself in a place where reality speaks plainly and the sun stays tucked away.

Stays inside, bent on the hopes that the torrential rain will sort everything out, bring the plants back to life.

They come dressed  in black, with a somber hats that wilt to hide the mood and glasses that scowl reflections of the scene.

Just another afternoon in Dalkeith, 

Our city at a safe distance to keep the season's spirit.  It grows and breaths on thespians, on capitalism, on the dreams of seventeen's willing to work for three quid.

An exit from the depths of it,

My face gleams warpaint, my heart snipped from my sleeve.  I arrive too late, as everyone has introduced themselves to the festivities.  

How can I keep my composure?

Just another obstacle in the everyday retreat.

When one knows they should have stayed home to watch the mourners from the window and feel better about living.

Immobility as my middle name.

MURMUR.

wake, drown in drink, sleep, wake, drown in drink, sleep, wake.

the cycle consumes.

the weekends here are kept wet, 

in body, in soul, in mind.

we hitched a ride to the oldest pub in Edinburgh to sit coy in boxcar

quaff ale,

gobble ostrich.

refusal brings out the beast in us, lungs tight, clandestine.

a melody sneaks quaintly into our corner.

violins, fiddles, tam-tam's, the traditional bagpipe, a tin whistle.  

20 deep, locals have assembled to jam.

to romp,  to tap their heels. 

we watch, we steal, we run.  leaving the 'piobaireachd' behind.

transformed into mountaineers, we climb twin peaks.

the rain pours, Ring around the Rosie, we all fall down.   mud cakes between lacerations.

steep slope, stone steps carved in 1361.

hands held tight.  carrying the weight of the world, we totter until we're upright.

frogs squirm from pavement to grass, wishing us well.

dive into a dive bar full of 15 year olds in poor fashion playing bingo.

He's lost control again. On the floor, again.  We gulp as quick as our throats allow.

screaming, scolded.

sip the smoke, grasping the night air, again, we're out.

We galavant to an old movie house.

Intimacy surrounds.  One man down, and it's couples therapy.  We speak of failure, of loss, of interest,

of socialism.  Tarantino looks on. 

Two brutes appear in the form of women to ruin the fun.  I'm silenced, sensing tension.  He abandons me, once again reminded why I keep so cold.

I duck away, hide my face in shame, I cry.

In the water, I am beautiful.  I am honest. I am raw.

Bare, introduced to a former self. I close my eyes.

Where have I been?

NEW LOVES.

we slide down cobblestone streets, 

damp, drunk

she prods her fingers between my stitches.

I coo. I clamber. I fumble. I flounder. 

a hole in the wall Jazz Bar, hidden beneath an underpass.

we scamper to purchase liquid courage,

though we've had out fill hours before.

She screams at the man with the metal violin,

a buoyant tune reverberates, 

we bounce.

light as a feather, scared stiff as a board.

I fall in the stall and sneak up the steps,

feeling quite like 16 again.

Olly-Olly-Oxen-Free,

I am completely alone in this city.

READINGS.

Included:

The Gothic; cities in literature, urban representation, literary theory, late twentieth/twenty-first century genre fiction (sci-fi & horror) queer theory, object-relations psychoanalysis, vampire fiction post-1980, literature/biotechnology, late-Victorian prison autobiographies by women convicts, & The films of David Lynch

Sure,

Time to soak in all the culture that is humanly possible.

Forgot how it feels to live.

F F F F F F F F F F F F

finally, lightness.

optimism exposed yet again, 
assuming, it's only because the sun is finally out, making the vegetation visible.
the floral and fauna that's been sedated can breath, slightly, 
gradually, uncovering the lush patchwork amid our metropolis 
loved, on occasion.
there is appreciation for the thin road home.
the fine lines that curve between street and person.
encompassing whole bodies, busy turning the dial and brushing their teeth.
allowing this city to continue mobility, 
momentum of the moving.
stunted and sterile through winter months,
the first thaw allows one to realize the dank, drab, dark breach
isn't, necessarily, permanent.

no future for naps in sight.

I’ve started swimming again, as though it’s something significant.


I’ve found a home on the top floor of a house quainter then one I’ve ever been blessed to live in. Not that I can complain about where I’ve formally lived.
A bachelor the size of a shoebox, a glamorous shoebox at that, containing pumps that cost more then the monthly payment, metaphorically speaking.
I’ve never owned shoes quite that expensive.
Fully furnished, accompanied by perfect smoking deck in a non-smoking environment.  


What’s a girl to do? 
Quit.  Throw herself over balconies edge?


Still lacking a job.  My landlord believes my Gay comrade is my Boss.   A year younger then me, his pre-grad profession puts my lack of motion to shame. 
I didn’t really have a plan of action after being deported
& Here I am.
On this frost bitten Wednesday morning, after signing my first lease and agreeing to give my time back to the city where I was bred, grew and faltered, I sigh.
Dazed, in what could have been an afternoon spent in the dewy meadows or billowing castles of Edinburgh.  My degree waits patiently for me.


Literature, we’ve always had a love/hate relationship.


I would consider this the after-life of my after-math.  Sharing a table at a busy Toronto coffee shop.  It’s zero degrees outside, and November hasn’t even hit us. I can hardly breathe, I’m feverish, not prepared to face another Canadian winter. 
But, this seems to be what I’m left with.
An empty mug, half a plank of sanded wood, a dead fly in my water, cold sweats, a contract, all of what amounts to many empty minutes that must be filled.
I’d rather do it with words. 
So along with taking my aggression out in laps around the pool, I’ll write it out.


Welcome me home Toronto, you’re stuck with me.
for now.