Tuesday, September 28, 2010


Ms Molly Sekera saw fury before I did but I'm certain it was the same face.

Lucian Freud's Man's Head (Self-Portrait)
I saw fury
He was strong and brave
He turned with fierce teeth
And strong muscles
I saw his hot, fiery face
And his ears steaming
And heard his scream
And I felt sorry
My love my care,

Friday, September 24, 2010

After September's Equinox

I take in my rosemary from the garden and mourn the summer with some delight at the turning of the leaves.
Standing Nude by Guy Rose

I can’t remember your face
Not your soft lips
Or the warm brown of your eyes
Or your smile
The one that made me greedy to kiss you
But that’s alright for who need to remember what haunts
You are necessary friend
As artery to heart
My love my care

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Buy and soak raisins in cognac for Christmas pudding

This is a psychological exercise given to me by an armature shrink and dear friend. I’m to think of my latest obsession, the idea of loving said fixation and the thought of forever in its grips then I’m to write down the first ten words/feeling that falls on me. Here are the words but truth to tell I don't see the point of it even if I had a laugh when I saw mother on my list.

Responsibility, old, mother, promise, lips, time, possibilities, want, despair and perfection.

Sunrise on the Bay of Fundy by William Bradford
You are for me a strain
I wished you away and still you are for me an unbearable pain to which I’ve gone to the Chinese tea shop and purchased the cure. It was bitter, expensive and gave me heartburn but what else could I do? The hypnosis was not working. I was meant to pull out one strand of hair from the root with every thought of you and was bold my entire body over inside a week. 
My love, my care,

Friday, September 17, 2010

I cried the whole train ride home

And wonder now what could have caused her to let go her composure.

Memories by Lord Frederick Leighton

I’d been at the newsstand in Union station two minutes before I noticed the young woman with the blank distraught stare. She was looking at the cover of the Walrus magazine when she took breath and screamed as if her hair was on fire. No one could get her to stop, not the frantic man behind the counter or the lady with the steady voice and nurses disposition nor anyone of the host of increasingly (upset-on-her-behalf-bystanders).  We were on the verge of calling for an ambulance when an unassuming gentleman stepped forward and pulled her in his arms. Saying only, ‘It’s never as bad as all that,’ his tone certain and tender. The poor distresses woman burst into tears and buried her face into his torso. She wept all her agony on to his shirt and one by one we now free of the responsibility of the moment disbursed leaving her to his care.
My love my care,

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

How much do you believe in luck?

How about destiny?
You now the bit that says what's it all about and what it had all been for?
The Source by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres

I only ask because lately the two has featured strongly in my conversations with my contentious friends... well those and the perceived rise of female masturbation in popular culture by one who will go unnamed but that one will have to keep until some other time. Here is why, fortune presses on my mind for I believe in luck and this though I’ve courted it to no avail. In fact, I would go so far as to say the evidence of its existence beyond my continued belief that my luck is about to change for the better is minute. Now destiny that I’m sure is a fallacy but that could simply be due to its unwillingness to reveal itself to me.
In the end it was for us more about family, love, fortune and space travel but now I think it's more the arc of the collective human experience.
You have my love here on this day when I'm more rambling questions than proper post.

Sunday, September 12, 2010

I'd love to call for dinner in this warm kitchen

My gardan is preparing for its winters sleep so naturally, I’m a little heartbroken but only a tad for it has brought me such joy and will return once again in the spring.
So now it is back to the business of writing and the more serious pursuit of wealth or is that fortune.

Glow by Daniel Gerhartz

I am the silly mortal who fell for the summer star
Only it turned out to be no more than a firefly and though the poor dear is more attainable
It seems I was more in love with the idea rather than the source of the light
For here I’ve caught a dozen in a jar to illuminate and entertain
All my love,

Thursday, September 9, 2010

A familiar sadness

Still, when all was said and done nothing more than our exceptions were shattered.
And even so it becomes more difficult with each failed marriage of dear friends once thought solid to write romance and not believe myself a snake oil salesman. The fact is I'm usually too much of a romantic to ever be truly jaded by the ruins of other peoples marriages and still this one caught me by surprise for they were for my set the ideal.
The Conservatory by Édouard Manet

They were married seventeen years and were brilliant friends.  Though, I had not been as thrown as dear sweet Eli who wept bitter tears and now vows bachelorhood until death I did consider taken a few volumes from a three year old bottle I found in my cabinet. They told us together and had been patient with our invasive questions. I realize now that they had been calm from the retelling while we had reeled with raw emotion for they had already gone through the exercise with their children and individual families.

We will adjust, I suppose thought I suspect this one will take us quite a bit of time.
My love my care 

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

I hate dinner parties in the country

All the fresh air leaves me with a headache and my once urbane friends turn country bumpkins squanders my patience with their melodrama. Not enough is said of too much wine and awful company, or has it?

La Pointe du Rossignol by Théo Van Rysselberghe

It is also in the country where my understanding of heart is reduced to that of an infant and here in this ungodly hour I’m no more than ill-logic or is that ill-will and hard feelings. Some of it due to the bliss that eludes one friend, the happy beginning that another believes he has found and I’m left to fret for they are in the same relationship. My friend Bunny thinks I worry too much and that the two silly creatures will be happily married inside a year. I almost believe her or rather I pray she is wrong and still a weak pathetic part of me hopes for both their sakes she is right.
Be happy,

Saturday, September 4, 2010

A bit of Westmorland

The two met and shared a passionate kiss and now they are friends of sort...

The Lady with the Veil by Alexander Roslin

Chapter One

“Marry me Claire,” Viscount Westmorland said to the stunning redhead seated across from him in his mother’s grand salon. “I can’t go on like this, another year. One of those ravenous maidens pinched me this afternoon in Harrison’s sitting room.”
“Shall I pour you a lemonade, my lord?” she asked.
“Marriage Claire. With children, grand estates and my eternal gratitude… Doesn’t that sound lovely?”
“And it would have to be you I marry?” she asked, eyes sparking with mischief as she extended a hand with the aforementioned lemonade.
“What keeps me suffering your awful company?”
“Does that mean you no longer wish to marry me?” she laughed.
“Did I tell you how Lady Riley lured me to tea with that sumptuous body of hers then tried to marry me off to her daughter.”
“She’s a lovely girl.”
“It’s perverse Claire. I could be that child’s father.”
“Oh, that’s right. You did court her mother when she was a débutante. Didn’t you?”
“Are you deliberately trying to provoke me?”
“No, my lord, but after a lifetime of knowing you I find I no longer have to make an effort. It just sort of happens.”
“I never liked you.”
“And still you would marry me?”
“Taking joy from my humiliation makes you depraved. You see that, don’t you?”
“Surely you don’t begrudge me my one happiness.”
“I realized something in coming here to see my mother.”
“And what is that, my lord?”
“I don’t like the company she keeps.”
“But I’m not company so much as companion and you pay my keep so you could, I suppose, instruct her to have me behave.”
“You only say that because you know full well she prefers you to me and would have me banished from the premises.”
“Nonsense,” his mother said as she entered, “Now stop bothering Claire and come take my hand. I have wonderful news.”
“I warn you, my dear. If this wonderful news of yours has anything to do with some suitable maiden I won’t be able to bear it,” Henry said as he greeted his mother with kind hand and a miserable smile.
“I’ve given up on finding you a bride and have instead found a husband for myself,” Blanche St John said pertly as she brushed pass her son to sit next to her companion.
“This is new,” Henry said to Claire as his mother settled.
“Have I your blessing, my angel?” his mother continued in spite of his rude dismissal.
“To whom have you decided to marry my dear?” he asked indulgently though he did not believe his mother would, at five and fifty, remarry.
“Lord Philippe Marcel. We are both widowed now and I should like to live out the rest of my days in the land of my birth away from this constant chill here in England.”
“Et tu Maman?”
“This was not done to you my angel,” his mother said defensively. “You’re three and thirty and I’ve dedicated a decade and a half to finding you a wife to no avail. No more. I will return to France at season’s end and you will wish me well.”
“And what of Claire?”
My love my care,

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Moving my sister back to school

I miss her already but I'm happy she is settled.

A Winding Stream in Summer by Peder Mork Mønsted

I spent the last five days helping my sister move in to her first flat and it was quite a move too, from Toronto to Montréal. She is glad to be living off campus and I'm jealous of her oh so romantic city. I hope to visit at least once before the year is out.
A lovely week to all,