I've got goosebumps, and a tear in my eye.
I woke up this morning with no hangover and opened my eyes to let the light in that was a retinal feed of what has become of my bedroom.
I don't like being in that room. I enter hesitantly with the lights low at night, and I rush into my bed where Ill read whatevers nearby until I fall asleep. When I get up the next morning, I rush out of it, never to return until it's time to sleep again.
It is an overwhelming mess. I haven't known where to start for months now. Sometimes, I feel like I am going to finally tackle it. Ill put on a pot of coffee, have a preparatory smoke, take a deep breath, and cross the threshold. Ill stand there just inside the entrance for anywhere from 1.5 seconds to a full 2 minutes, and invariably either turn and walk out, or slowly back up until Im safely back in the living room. My bedroom has been the opposite of a living room.
I think Im just afraid of that one corner by the closet, the one with the letters, cards and photos...
In the closet, there are still some of her clothes hanging, In the back of the closet, there are sweaters that her mom knit, some old vintage nighties hanging, a silk robe, some (I hate the word blouse, sounds like something grandma would wear to church) blouses. I tried to get them to her a few times starting in October, but for some inexplicable reason, she wouldnt allow me to bring her her stuff whenever I suggested I do so, so all those things are still in that mothridden mausoleum.
When I cleaned out and re-organized the living room so many months ago, I emptied the bookshelves, stacking all the books up on the living room floor with the idea of eventually going through them all and figuring out which of them I wanted to keep, and which I didnt. (I have such a hard time with that I never want to get rid of books). Eventually a day came where Trish was coming over to visit for the first time, and in my rush to get my place looking presentable, I quickly carted armload after armload of these books into the bedroom, losing what little bit of preliminary organization I had arranged for them. I stacked them in column after column in front of the closet until I had covered a section of floor about 8 feet long by 4 feet wide by 3 feet high in books.
There they stayed, like a great Wall keeping the contents of the closet safely bordered off, and leaving a walking path for me from the doorway to the bed.
Over the months that followed, Morgans clumsy self would consistently knock them over during the day of doing whatever the hell it is he does in here during the time I am at the office, and it became ever more so difficult to tackle. Almost like a cancerous tumour, it grew to encompass most of that room.
So something finally snapped this morning when I woke up and opened my eyes to it. I spent last night cleaning up the regular areas that I find relatively easy to clean: kitchen, bathroom, computer desk area. But the bedroom is the beast.
I layed there for a second trying to recall that important dream, but it was a loss. I was laying on my side, curled up fetal and facing the closet door and I let my eyes scan the bare white walls, the sleeping bag hanging over the door, the pile of laundry, the cat hair dust bunnies, I could see a section of my mountain bike frame peeking out from under a mass of towels, jeans and one of the big afghans the cat had peed on.
this is ridiculous I thought to myself.
Then I thought about tomorrow being February the 20th. My birthday. Theres no way I wanted to wake up tomorrow morning, the morning of my birthday, and open my eyes to this life.
I pictured opening my eyes and seeing beams of sunlight on the wall, my Vitruvian man lithograph framed and hanging, perhaps a large fig plant in the corner. That warm glow this old hardwood has after a fresh mopping with Murphys oil soap, and no stacks of books, no dust bunnies.
I had plans this afternoon to go see hotbonbon and go for a walk along Jericho. Today would have been a beautiful day for such a thing, and the things we probably would have talked about would have fit so closely into my recent state of mind. It was her that introduced me to the idea of going to see that What the $#*! Do we know movie last weekend, and I really was looking forward to the afternoon on the beach.
I got up, left the bedroom, made coffee in my sparkling kitchen, walked a cup of it to my writing desk and started with the morning routine. Under all my words coming out though, behind the pen, was this thought that I should cancel the beach walk. I should cancel anything for today, and if I started early enough, I would be able to end this afternoon with the final task of putting everything in its place in the bedroom. Then, tomorrow morning, when I opened my eyes to the first day of my 37th year, I would open them into a room I wouldnt recognize.
I took Morgan out, went up to shoppers and put $30.00 on the laundry card (we have these smart machine washer/dryer combos that dont take change, its a credit card type thing you have to charge up. Thats a different bitch session for another day.), I walked down to the loonie store to get some more big red candles for my sconces on the livingroom wall, and as I walked past the old nutrition shop I used to work at back in 89, I saw some sage smudging sticks in the window. How perfect. My place could use a good cleansing in that sense as well.
The goosebumps and the tear?
I threw on an old CD I used to listen to a lot about 22 years agoSoul Mining from The The.
The second song came on: This is the Day and I suddenly got a total flashback to a day when I was around 17 years old. Still living in Calgary but Id been on my own for about 2 years by then. For some reason, there was this one day when I was listening to this tape, and this song in particular, and I was filled with such a huge pulse of positive vibes.
Today, as I was in the beginning of my cleaning, and this song came on I got that flashback, and Im suddenly filled with the same vibe. I am so looking forward to tomorrow!
This is the Day
Well... you didn't wake up this morning,
'cause you didn't go to bed.
You were watching the whites of your eyes turn red!
The calendar on your wall -- IS TICKING -- the days off.
You've been reading some old letters.
You smile and think how much you've changed.
All the money in the world couldn't buy back those days.
You pull back the curtains, and the sun burns into your eyes.
You watch a plane flying across a clear blue sky.
THIS IS THE DAY -- Your life will surely change.
THIS IS THE DAY -- When things fall into place.
You could've done anything, if you'd wanted.
And all your friends and family think that you're lucky.
But the side of you they'll never see
Is when you're left alone with the memories
That hold your life together like -- GLUE
You pull back the curtains, and the sun burns into your eyes.
You watch a plane flying across a clear blue sky.
THIS IS THE DAY -- Your life will surely change.
THIS IS THE DAY -- When things fall into place.
THIS IS THE DAY -- Your life will surely change.
(repeat to fade)
I woke up this morning with no hangover and opened my eyes to let the light in that was a retinal feed of what has become of my bedroom.
I don't like being in that room. I enter hesitantly with the lights low at night, and I rush into my bed where Ill read whatevers nearby until I fall asleep. When I get up the next morning, I rush out of it, never to return until it's time to sleep again.
It is an overwhelming mess. I haven't known where to start for months now. Sometimes, I feel like I am going to finally tackle it. Ill put on a pot of coffee, have a preparatory smoke, take a deep breath, and cross the threshold. Ill stand there just inside the entrance for anywhere from 1.5 seconds to a full 2 minutes, and invariably either turn and walk out, or slowly back up until Im safely back in the living room. My bedroom has been the opposite of a living room.
I think Im just afraid of that one corner by the closet, the one with the letters, cards and photos...
In the closet, there are still some of her clothes hanging, In the back of the closet, there are sweaters that her mom knit, some old vintage nighties hanging, a silk robe, some (I hate the word blouse, sounds like something grandma would wear to church) blouses. I tried to get them to her a few times starting in October, but for some inexplicable reason, she wouldnt allow me to bring her her stuff whenever I suggested I do so, so all those things are still in that mothridden mausoleum.
When I cleaned out and re-organized the living room so many months ago, I emptied the bookshelves, stacking all the books up on the living room floor with the idea of eventually going through them all and figuring out which of them I wanted to keep, and which I didnt. (I have such a hard time with that I never want to get rid of books). Eventually a day came where Trish was coming over to visit for the first time, and in my rush to get my place looking presentable, I quickly carted armload after armload of these books into the bedroom, losing what little bit of preliminary organization I had arranged for them. I stacked them in column after column in front of the closet until I had covered a section of floor about 8 feet long by 4 feet wide by 3 feet high in books.
There they stayed, like a great Wall keeping the contents of the closet safely bordered off, and leaving a walking path for me from the doorway to the bed.
Over the months that followed, Morgans clumsy self would consistently knock them over during the day of doing whatever the hell it is he does in here during the time I am at the office, and it became ever more so difficult to tackle. Almost like a cancerous tumour, it grew to encompass most of that room.
So something finally snapped this morning when I woke up and opened my eyes to it. I spent last night cleaning up the regular areas that I find relatively easy to clean: kitchen, bathroom, computer desk area. But the bedroom is the beast.
I layed there for a second trying to recall that important dream, but it was a loss. I was laying on my side, curled up fetal and facing the closet door and I let my eyes scan the bare white walls, the sleeping bag hanging over the door, the pile of laundry, the cat hair dust bunnies, I could see a section of my mountain bike frame peeking out from under a mass of towels, jeans and one of the big afghans the cat had peed on.
this is ridiculous I thought to myself.
Then I thought about tomorrow being February the 20th. My birthday. Theres no way I wanted to wake up tomorrow morning, the morning of my birthday, and open my eyes to this life.
I pictured opening my eyes and seeing beams of sunlight on the wall, my Vitruvian man lithograph framed and hanging, perhaps a large fig plant in the corner. That warm glow this old hardwood has after a fresh mopping with Murphys oil soap, and no stacks of books, no dust bunnies.
I had plans this afternoon to go see hotbonbon and go for a walk along Jericho. Today would have been a beautiful day for such a thing, and the things we probably would have talked about would have fit so closely into my recent state of mind. It was her that introduced me to the idea of going to see that What the $#*! Do we know movie last weekend, and I really was looking forward to the afternoon on the beach.
I got up, left the bedroom, made coffee in my sparkling kitchen, walked a cup of it to my writing desk and started with the morning routine. Under all my words coming out though, behind the pen, was this thought that I should cancel the beach walk. I should cancel anything for today, and if I started early enough, I would be able to end this afternoon with the final task of putting everything in its place in the bedroom. Then, tomorrow morning, when I opened my eyes to the first day of my 37th year, I would open them into a room I wouldnt recognize.
I took Morgan out, went up to shoppers and put $30.00 on the laundry card (we have these smart machine washer/dryer combos that dont take change, its a credit card type thing you have to charge up. Thats a different bitch session for another day.), I walked down to the loonie store to get some more big red candles for my sconces on the livingroom wall, and as I walked past the old nutrition shop I used to work at back in 89, I saw some sage smudging sticks in the window. How perfect. My place could use a good cleansing in that sense as well.
The goosebumps and the tear?
I threw on an old CD I used to listen to a lot about 22 years agoSoul Mining from The The.
The second song came on: This is the Day and I suddenly got a total flashback to a day when I was around 17 years old. Still living in Calgary but Id been on my own for about 2 years by then. For some reason, there was this one day when I was listening to this tape, and this song in particular, and I was filled with such a huge pulse of positive vibes.
Today, as I was in the beginning of my cleaning, and this song came on I got that flashback, and Im suddenly filled with the same vibe. I am so looking forward to tomorrow!
This is the Day
Well... you didn't wake up this morning,
'cause you didn't go to bed.
You were watching the whites of your eyes turn red!
The calendar on your wall -- IS TICKING -- the days off.
You've been reading some old letters.
You smile and think how much you've changed.
All the money in the world couldn't buy back those days.
You pull back the curtains, and the sun burns into your eyes.
You watch a plane flying across a clear blue sky.
THIS IS THE DAY -- Your life will surely change.
THIS IS THE DAY -- When things fall into place.
You could've done anything, if you'd wanted.
And all your friends and family think that you're lucky.
But the side of you they'll never see
Is when you're left alone with the memories
That hold your life together like -- GLUE
You pull back the curtains, and the sun burns into your eyes.
You watch a plane flying across a clear blue sky.
THIS IS THE DAY -- Your life will surely change.
THIS IS THE DAY -- When things fall into place.
THIS IS THE DAY -- Your life will surely change.
(repeat to fade)
VIEW 15 of 15 COMMENTS
I'm on the Island at the mo but we're coming back today so we might be down. Where is it anyways? Use my contact info n email me the details cuz I'm lazy.