tell me anything you want

kelie bowman

i like seeing movies in theatres

i just saw 'up the yangzte' by yung chang. see it. it's been opening all over canada this past week. and it is so crazy.

it reminded me that i haven't seen 'manufactured landscapes' yet. this is one of edward burtynsky's photos of nickel tailings in sudbury. i was in sudbury recently. it's pretty bleak.

i also saw this crazy other nfb film this week called 'the invisible nation' and got un peu informed about what's been going on up at barriere lake. come to nfcm on tuesday for a public assembly at 6 00. midnight kitchen is doing dinner!

someway somehow

i let myself get suckered real bad. and oh, it hurts.

david habben

"space is what we have here. in our personal life and in the land as well."

last night after we made music for hours i had a dream that i dove into a warm familiar lake and swam around the whole thing on my back

and even though it was murky and warm with those soft bottoms we always found in southern ontario i ignored the shadows of water snakes and just thought about the satin feeling of water against my skin and how its temperature was the same as the air's

how awesome it is to lie in the water and look up at the sky
how i want to just hold my sensations above everything else and think about how that moment before you start to cry is almost like an orgasm

there were people on the dock looking out for me but they left me alone

___________________
that up there is by kiersten essenpreis.

and all the rooftops want us

this is a long time coming
(i won't get it [write])

1. i forgot all about my senses until i had a moment to just stare out the window. i realized that inside my chest felt just like that dirty pile of snow. and that it was like i ate too much ice cream with too much speed and i remembered the way that november/march precipitation that is 1/2 rain 1/2 snow and assaults your forehead is the only kind that really stills you. i've been stilled, for the first time in months. that dirty pile of snow isn't a bad thing. the weight on your chest could pin you to one place and make all the decisions for you. its almost like a hug. being squeezed is sort of the same as being loved like you're new by someone who's old. for that moment that pile of snow brought down the swelling in my heavy heart. i'll take a hug.

2. i can't remember where i wanted to start. i finished my first draft. the initial effect was much less satisfying than i anticipated. now, since i've taken some time to breathe and stare out the window for so long it makes the people in the cafe uncomfortable [the grafitti on cinema l'amour says "sake bank sake sake"], it feels good to let go of guilt. can i ever tell you of the new ways i understand privilege [you, oh and everyone else who's already heard]? i am privileged, i get the privilege of talking to these people, they privilege me with their trust and i become privileged with their memories. to think of the relation to some people sharing some common experience that isn't mine as a 'privilege' implies so much more movement and action than i was prepared to gain. to be fit to understand privilege as a verb means acknowledging the relation between mass and motion. momentum. so much of the time you lose control of the direction. i don't know if this was where i wanted to go.


all of a sudden i do my last interview and hear of more hurting than i've ever known or known anyone to know and something like the motivation that used to keep me up all night drafting letters and petitions to divest mcgill's endowment funds from tnc's with ties to sudan has me telling her (she is so solid) i'll write the grant proposal she needs from inac to have things get started. i am privileged with this information. if you read my paper you will be too. but no one is going to. so why did i spend so much time doing it. there's no way i can leave with all these stories and just keep them between my ribs. oh shit.
oh. what am i going to do with all of this. oh what what what.
sake bank sake sake.


3. my friend ryan marr took this photo. two days ago was his birthday and i'm pretty certain he was kite boarding in aruba. happy birthday, my friend. sincerely, emily-the-envious.

i wrote 57 pages about some people here

this isn't the right time,
but

what am i supposed to do with all of this?
sincerely,

who are these children that scheme and run wild

dear:

i wish i could find some words left in my chest that i hadn't already dedicated to preservation in my flailing undergraduate thesis, alas i must save what i have.

i just spent all day creating a whole load of crap that is the essay i will hand in to my really lovely professor of that Aristotle course. really. really really, i would've loved to have done a good job, to have been to ponder for three days, but instead i crammed it all into one and quoted too many times instead of coming up with anything of my own. fuck it. now i am where i came this morning at 9 (the GIC, obvs) and stayed minus the time it took for me to see an adviser and hear about how i maaaaay not be able to graduate in may (i'm choosing to forget about this possibility for now), about to embark upon more writwritwriting, this time for the ole' dissertation, which looks highly inviting in comparison to the babbling litter i spewed all day on art imitating nature where a table was art and i was nature. nevermind. anyways. what? oh yeah, i spilled cold coffee all over my leg when my phone vibrated with a distracting text message. so i stink like that. and i'm going to be here for so long. and i'm hungry and want to eat akua's chili.

oops, look at all those letters i meant to keep to myself. i am right screwed now.

okay, anyways. i'm going fucking wild over maureen gubia. i like looking at the sketchbooks of people who can actually draw i pretend that's what i see when i look at the pages and pages and pages of words and eyeballs that fill my own notebooks.

i feel like swearing. my teeth keep coming to rest on my bottom lip.

dudes, i just realized she lives in guayaquil. oh my nostalgic bones! they ache and shake and make my heart quiver with all the intercostal vibrations.

it's funny actually (apparently i'm not done here), now that i know this i sort of see some guayasamin in the form (substance?) (all day with Aristotle) of some of her pieces. i wonder what it means to say guayasamin to an ecuadorian artist. i'm so new.

k, piece peace (maybe i could use a little bill to quiet me down)

(no, i think i just want to go home and play the piano)(i miss my piano!)(maybe i'll go home for easter)(need to have a real conversation with somebody)(stop procrastinating!)(shhh)