Went to bed late last night after an amazing party at Tightrope. Rubbing noses with Heather J. Wood, and gobbling up her delicious peanut butter cookies in an effort to discover her latest project was fun. Also being garlanded with free books from John Barlow whose poetry captures the spirit of documentary, put me in my cozy place. Learned how to mix jungle music from the stylin’ d.j., and enjoyed helping guests grind on the dance floor for some delicious snapshots taken by our multi-talented Deepi Harish.
The next morning, I woke up earlier than I’d anticipated. I felt out of sorts, strange in my own clothing, hair rumpled like a bird’s nest, eyes glazed over with the remnants of starlight, face streaked with creases from a restless night …
My friend asked me whether I had remembered to take my pills last night … her usual refrain whenever I complained to her about anything. I couldn’t quite understand what I was feeling. I leafed through my dictionary and thesaurus for the right words. Nada.
In a quick phone call to my mom, she suggested I open my bible and read the psalms which made me feel ready to tackle some big challenge, but still confused about what I was feeling.
I thought maybe a marathon workout session might help … I ran into the usual suspects, guys looking googly-eyed at my friends for approval while my friends wallowed in self-pity brought on by feelings of unattractiveness … Although this forced me to stifle a few chuckles, I was still hopelessly confused.
You know, I don’t know why I try so hard to understand myself like my favourite sitcom character, Rory Gilmore. Sometimes it’s important to just stop revelating and be quiet. …. …. ….
After that got boring, I tentatively reached for my autographed copy of Contents of a Mermaid’s Purse by the multi-talented Phoebe Tsang, poet, violinist, dramatist, dancer ,and professional architect all rolled up into one. And oh so charming! She is magnificent! You’ll have to meet her at her official book launch this fall with details to follow on the Tightrope website …
What a treasure trove of poetry I discovered! Everything, all my infatuation, obsession, loneliness, emptiness, longing, etc., for meaning, all were written on her pages! I immediately started to organize a grand housewarming party to celebrate my long-lost identity!
Unfortunately I can’t show you the poems that did it for me, but I will tell you the name of my favourite poem. Shhh … don’t tell anyone, ‘kay? Promise? Okay, it’s called: “Seven Days Without You.” I’m blushing! Did you notice? I love this poem more than any other poem in the whole world! I wonder what Phoebe will say when she reads this article? Maybe I shouldn’t say anymore, I don’t want to overwhelm her, she might get scared and stop poeticizing.
Yikes, that would be too awful! You’ll understand someday.