a 12 year old's diary...

"i'll get a dollar from my mamas purse
and buy that skull and crossbones ring
and you can wear it around your neck
on an old piece of string"
-tw



Clayton doesn't bring me canadian tire money anymore. ...don't you remember, scroll down and find it, my steal of a deal. Have you forgotten what it feels like to lick a envelope, to send someone something real.

"Now the street's turning blue, the dogs are barking and the night has come
And there's tears that are falling from your blue eyes now"
-tw

...sitting in a victoria cementary the other day smoking my pipe l realized if you were homeless how the cementary would be a good place to sleep at night, there is a cold water tap, and the odd cement shelter, very quiet. It also dawned on me how difficult it must be to find a washroom, no one wants to let you use the washroom in the city. Goddamn l even find it difficult so if you can imagine being perhaps a little scruffy or perhaps not looking like the ideal upstanding type of person, damn.

It's the cool of the evening the sun's goin' down,
i want to hold you in my arms i want to push you around,
i want to break your bottle and spill out all your charms,
come on baby we'll set off all the burglar alarms,
goin' downtown down downtown."
-tw

I also had another thought in the cementary. Every year or so l use to think "boy was l stupid" but...l would then realized what l had learned in the year, l would feel that l was wiser. The last couple of years l didn't get that feeling, yes the stupid one maybe but not the wiser one, until this year...

You see these flower pictures, taken with my cheapdigitalcamera and they are blurry because it is stuck on macro and l can't figure out how to turn that off. The flower pics, like what a 12 year old would put on the front of their diary and it would be so easy to turn this blog into something like what a 12 year old would write in their diary.

Down the shore everything's alright,
you're with your baby on a saturday night,
don't you know that all my dreams come true,
when i'm walkin' down the street with you,
sing sha la la la la la sha la la la.
-tw

My friends ronanddonna, their life, their love, it makes me thrive for that great love.

Le Que Sabe...

"...found an old dog and he seems to like me."
tw




"Sprung from the loins of Aunt Daisy"
This is a painting l did many years ago of Sid Barron. Sid was a painter and for many years a cartoonist for the victoria times and toronto star. Sid was pretty incredible, bright, funny, and always a joy to be around. He told me the story of his aunt when l was photographing him, told me that her name was Daisy and that she was wonderful, full of laughter and always so good to Sid. It was many years later that he found out that aunt Daisy was really his mother.
I ran into Sid's wife "Jesi" last week and she told me that Sid had died last april.
Le Que Sabe

shelter...

...when journeying one must never halt until
wood and shelter are obtained.

rolling a drum...

Hush a wild violet, hush a band of gold
Hush you're in a story I heard somebody told
Tear the promise from my heart, tear my heart today
You have found another, oh baby I must go away
So hang down your head for sorrow, hang down your head for me
-tomwaits

This is george. I met george at the homeless shelter in prince albert. He lived there for about five months, was ever so queit and gentle and slowly we became acquainted.
He fell in love with a girl in PA and for a couple of months was so blissful, so in love, a smile that you could walk on. Then he had to go to manitoba for the summer, do some guiding, make some money. He showed up at the shelter a couple months later back from guiding, eager to see his love.
...but his love had found another, in his absence her heart had not grown fonder, her heart had wandered and found someone else.
George was devastated, he mourned this love for many weeks, he drowned himself in whatever liquor he could find, he started coming into the shelter drunk, but because he was still the gentle and quiet george l would let him in and he would quietly and sadly go to sleep.
My last few days at the shelter l remember sitting with george in the lobby just quietly and with few words visiting. I remeamber rolling a drum cigarette for him. Now yes l know how horrible cigarettes are but if there was anything good in them it was this, it was rolling george a drum, an act so personal and almost intimate. He shook my hand and said goodbye, he shook my hand with warmth and friendship. I hope George is back guiding in manitoba, l hope George is in love.