The Chair

The Things You Remember:

You could say that this was our going steady ring.
Although it does not exactly fit on your finger.
When you are going out with an artist the standard gifts don’t hold ground.
We had been going out for a couple of months.
B would pick me up every friday or saturday noon which was when I closed the store.
His country house was massive compared to anything I had known in my city circles. Originally it was a Irish shanty made of massive logs.
Two main rooms downstairs with three small rooms up top that had very sloped ceilings.
B had bought this place because it was cheap, in the country and possibly more important it had a big hip roofed barn.
The perfect studio space.
This was before my time but I listened to the stories of renovation for many evenings around the big oval table.
This table was something!
It was bolted together from railway tides sanded and stained black.
All the edges were polished by forearms resting on them.
If only tables could speak.

There were two long benches on the sides where you could squeeze in two to four persons depending on the size of their hips.
At one end, there was an odd rikidy chair but the other end where B always sat was this throne of a chair.
Torch stained black with a hardened and tanned leather seat.
There always seemed to be a rush at coffee time to grab a chair.
If you missed you had to sit on the tiled side counter.
Being B’s new girlfriend I was always assured of a good seat though I must say.
One day in the dark winter.
When all the blinds had to be pulled down to keep the room warm.
I sat at the end of the table  in conversation.
I was feeling a little cocky possibly with a glass or two of wine in me.
I questioned the throne chair.
Why did no one ever attempt to sit on this chair?
The reply was obvious, ‘Its my chair’.
Knowing that I had the body of Aphrodite the goddess I said in a simple manner.
I think I should have a chair that was only mine as well.
Nothing more was said on this topic and I actually just forgot it because really I was not actually set on it.

Some weeks past and I was again being picked up but this time I was to stay for a long weekend so I was very excited.
It was always exciting knowing that I would be spending days with B.
I loved being with him.
We made our usual stops at the farmers market.
B would buy
black rye bread,
hot peppers,
sour cream,
avocados and caviar,
wine and a bottle of scotch and a box of expresso coffee.
He did know how to live well.
The drive to the farm was full of stories of the studio work that week and the drawing that he wanted to do of me that weekend.
I did love the attention.
It was november and only the occasional stop light light up the car.
When we finally got there B pulled into the driveway and you could only see his german shepherd in the headlights barking and barking till he heard B’s voice then the tail would start waggling.
All the lights in the house were off.
There was no yard light.
Only the biggest black sky fill the air with sparkling dots all over it.
Oh So easy to be overwhelmed by such beauty and size.
I gathered my baskets which I always used as suitcases and followed him to the house.
The door was never locked.
B walked in to the darkness and I heard him say.
Stay at the door for a minute till I turn on the light.
I did.
When the light came on I only saw this!

Under this arrow was a chair.
A chair that was just like the one the friendly giant had on his show.
You know, ‘and here we have a chair that two can curl up in’.
Here was that chair!
‘You wanted your own chair, now you have one’ said B.
No one ever thought enough of me to actual get me my own chair.
I was hooked, line and sinker.
How did I win this lottery?
How did the universe put me in line with him?
I admit that I was scared as well as so much in love.
What I did now was that my love for him was equal with my trust of him.
He was 20 years my senior but I could not feel the difference at all.
Soul mates they say?
I’m not really sure what that means.
The oval table that sat in the middle of the room did not only have the throne chair.
It now had my chair as well.
My chair that would always  wait for me.
As I write this post today I am sitting in my chair.

Photo on 2016-06-16 at 9.13 AM


Hard to Get Going

Photo on 2016-06-02 at 3.42 PM

Today I am going to another funeral. I can’t remember if I posted about her. K will have a great send off for she arranged it herself. There will be people in full uniforms, reds and blues. My friend will go out in a style that she deserves.

I have been sitting here looking out my windows, slouched in my chair drinking coffee for about two hours now. I think I’m stalling, what do you think?

Photo on 2016-06-02 at 3.42 PM #2

I still haven’t unpacked my van!! There is a pile of books at the bottom of the stairs that I chucked there yesterday. This is my method of decluttering. I swear don’t let me buy another book!! Ops. forgot I ordered one yesterday. I think its called ???? what is it called?

 Fragments Notes and Poetry by Marilyn Monroe. I did not know she wrote poetry so I clicked and for basically 16. Canadian dollars half of which is shipping I will get my book. Last one I almost promise.

So so I quickly unload sculptures and stuff out of my van??  Yes I should.  I wonder if I posted that long poem I wrote?  You can see I’m all over the place.
think of me today everyone.

These photos are some things I did yesterday to avoid dealing with today I suppose. I also made two short videos but I need to upgrade my blog status to attach so I will not do that.


Photo on 2016-06-02 at 3.42 PM #3


3 years….8months….9:25:35


when the morning came she was still here
the clothes on the floor
the cup empty with morning coffee grinds
photo of him can be seen across the room
reflected colours off the indigo tiled table
his photo of their first married day
wedged in the corner of the mirror
large glass of water next to diovol, hand lotion
pencils, books, journals of all sorts
dvd player with stacks opened and closed
her bag, always packed she never seems to unpack


the grey clouds gathering
entices her to get up from under
the feathers that surround her
nearing like distant stomping hoofs
sound and sight run hand in hand across the field
birds start fussing
first a low hum
then louder as the excitement expands
she is standing at the doorway
nose and hand pressed against the grey screen

nature and human are converging
a meeting of matters
she closes her eyes so she can better listen to the sounds
drops start to mark their path across the deck
she slowly pushes the door open in a sort of seductive manner, welcoming the rain like a lover being invited to one’s bed lightly tapping the sheets
occasionally the sound of the hot rubber sliding over wet pavement makes its way up top
by then the rain is transforming all surfaces
dancing vigorously with all available forms
there is such joy that is created from this simple act
the day the rain came
like foreplay it teases and entices you
moving shapes and sounds in circles till all is one and the dizziness takes over
rain on your face not unlike sweat on your skin
the birds know it and they welcome it with no reservations
then as quickly as it came it leaves

rain is like a love that is great in small doses
for if it stays it will destroy by flooding you with too much love and drown you
floating till your body lies softly on the ocean floor
love is an entity all of its own
love is a spirit that feeds on freedom
to have loved and been loved back
is one of the wonders of life
to have loved once fills you
to love twice could kill you

so she sits and redirects her love to other things
to the sounds of birds chatting
to the sounds of approaching rain
to the sound of the typewriter keys hitting
to all that she creates
this is what she will love now
for this will see her to the end