Short Bits

Bring back these times and give me
lots of money and a good birth.

Bit by bit,
Putting it together...
Piece by Piece-
Only way to make a work of art.
Every moment makes a contribution,
Every little detail plays a part.
Having just a vision's no solution,
Everything depends on execution:
Putting it together-
That's what counts!

Stephen Sondheim wrote these words in the voice of Georges Seurat but for me, they are as eloquent a statement about the making of a life as they are about the making of art. They come to mind during periods of angst such as the one in which I currently find myself.

Art isn't easy.
Even if you're smart.
You think it's all put together,
But then something falls apart
Art isn't easy.

•

I have a new axiom: People who live in glass houses (me) should not live near people who throw rocks (a neighbour).

•

I love wearing my new cologne. I wore it for the first time last night and I felt the tug of white patten belts & shoes, shag rug and polyester pants.

Trouble in Paradise

A friend has expressed exasperation with my inability to get over my past. At least that is what I understand from an email I got today The revelation came out of an email exchange about what I write on this blog and how what I write can affect my relationships.

I sincerely do not want to disappoint my friends, but neither am I interested, really, in changing my behavior (about which I have no concern) for a friend. I like writing here. I like having a record of my ups and downs and my activities.

I figure things out when I walk and record my conclusions or conundrums here. This is my space. I like this medium better than a paper diary because I can do searches on it and easily find things whereas I was always thumbing through my index-less book diaries looking for things kept in the past.

I will never deny my past or its impact on my psyche, but I must think carefully about what I write here henceforth.

Fire!

The top photos are how the sky looked this morning. The lower photo is
later this afternoon as I finished my walk. Between the thick smoke high
overhead this morning and the low smoke late this afternoon, there was a
break so that I could walk the wall without any concern for my breathing.

Holy shit! The air is so thick with smoke that I can only see about four blocks from my windows on the 7th floor of my building. Now I know why the sky was yellow/orange this morning. When you are outside, it smells like when I was young and everyone had open fires in the Fall after all the leaves come off the trees.

I have lived in Vancouver all my life except a few. I was born here and have never seen a May and June so dry or smoke in the city like this. The worst may be yet to come. That could so easily be the case because June is often, if not usually, a wet month, whereas July and the first two weeks of August are often without any rain.

Yikes!

Now the air smells strongly of smoke and it is blue.
Now (@ 4:16) I can only see two blocks!!

Kim

It has been positively shocking to wake up to thick clouds. The sky is almost yellowish now but an hour ago there were large and very dark areas. There is no indication that it will rain. I have a walking date at 9:30 with friend, Cathy. We will walk the wall together. It will be nice if the sun is behind cloud. It will be refreshing. Sadly, I don't think there will be any rain.

•

It was really hot last night. I was worried about sleeping so I decided to walk to the park and back down a quiet street. I got to the park just at dusk and passed a major “police incident.” Downtown was buzzing.

At the park, a very handsome man, bespectacled and totally bald—shaved bald—and possessed of a striking resemblance to a Buddha or Mr. Clean asked me for directions to “the bridge in Ceperley Park.” Why in Hell would anyone go there, I wondered. But I explained to him how to find the bridge.

He clearly did not understand, so I offered to walk him there and somehow, when we got there, we wound up kissing and having a very romantic interlude. I was uncomfortable with his public affection the darkness gave me the courage to respond and, besides, we were far from the people walking nearby.

He leaves today on a cruise ship, so there could be no second date. But after his friend arrived to meet him, I walked them back to their hotel hand-in-hand with my new friend Kim.

It’s been too long to remember when I had a similar experience, but that is not the point of my story. My point is this: While we were necking in the dark like teenagers, I became aware of all the social changes that have occurred in the decades since I last experienced any public affection from a man.

I realized my embarrassment was old school. Today, with gay marriage legal in all of North America, the affection I was enjoying with Kim on that bridge need not cause me concern any longer, so I let go of all my fears. That was a good experience to have before I die.

Then, when I came home, still unable to sleep, I watched a 1966 episode of Silent Witness that I had taped and it concerned a gay man and the homophobia I lived through in my teens. It was an emotionally interesting evening!

Isolation

What do you do if you wake up one morning in full-on existential angst? What do you do if you wake up overwhelmed with a feeling of wanting to never see anyone you know ever again? What if you suddenly look back on all you have done with derision?

And what if all this angst robs you of your energy and you are flat? What if, when you go to the store, you respond with no expression? What if you don’t answer the phone when friends call or answer emails when they write because you have only dark worrisome things to say?

What do you do?

That can happen to me and when it does, I get dressed fast and get to Stanley Park as fast as I can. The park is my church. The last time this happened, it took a few hours to find my equilibrium. Luckily it was sunny because sunlight helps. For me it is God’s love.

When I got home, I realized that had I a partner, my partner would have said on rising: “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” And we would have wound up talking and I would have felt better in a matter of minutes, I suspect, instead of hours.

Or I could wake my partner were it urgent. Or had I a family, I could call a sister, maybe, or cousin, to talk. But I don’t. And I am someone who can only call friends when all is good so I do what I have done all my life: I find way on my own.

I don’t think I have ever met anyone who knows what it is to be alone like I know alone. My sense of being alone is life-long. There is no alone like “orphan” alone, and sometimes I tire of it. And when I tire of it, for some reason, I seek solitude—perhaps being physically what I feel emotionally will be staisfying.

I think that is why I am considering moving to a rural property—just considering, mind you!

About Friday

I had lunch with my bro, Dwight. I always love that. Then I went to the beach for a while and saw a friend I have not seen for ages: Tim. Then I came home and made my first blueberry tart with lime curd.

This is my hoja plant. It is in its third year and will likely
bloom next year. It is one of my favourite plants.

When I serve it, the blueberries will be lightly sprinkled
with powdered sugar or I may daub whipping cream in the
centre. I love the curd, so whatever I don't do I will do next
time. I can hardly wait to eat it tomorrow at brunch.

Canada Day & Heaven

Finishing my walk at 9:00 am this morning in Stanley Park.
This tranquility looks like how I feel inside.

Yesterday, Canada Day, I walked the wall nice and early but it was crowded. Later, I went to a picnic with friends in Queen Elizabeth Park. It was very hot and humid; the weather has become a conversational cliché.

Today’s I walk was as good as it gets. Everyone used all their energies for the holiday yesterday, so the wall was almost empty this morning. I was tempted to walk it twice, but I know I cannot do that any more. I may walk it again tonight though.

This afternoon I am making a spicy tuna salad and my first blueberry tart. Cooking is a really satisfying creative outlet.

I am a new man living in bliss. It’s no wonder I don’t ever want to leave. I live in a condo wherein every square centimeter is my design, and I love it. And I can get everything I need within a few blocks easily; life is excellent without a car but as a member of the car co-op.

And a year ago this month, I changed my relationship with food. I started eating less and healthier food because I was eating for emotional reasons. I lost 35 pounds and gained a new and more positive sense of self…. and a new wardrobe and sense of style.

And best of all, I feel free of the compulsion to create for an audience. I will continue to create, I know, but for myself. I have matured; sometimes pigs do fly. I absolutely love not having a project; I am free to do as I please and I like it.

In winter, it will be harder, but these past two months of endless sunshine has allowed me to live an ideal lifestyle. I am going to do my best to extend it endlessly.