Darlings, we only live in moments now (Part 2)
Why am I alive now?* & what keeps me here (2024)
One moment, you’re breathing… the next, I barely make it up these steps.
This is a photo of me deciding finally to take myself to the Walk-in Clinic at the Blaws next door. Coaxed by friend Don Pyle and upcoming dates scheduled for the East Coast, so fortunate to listen and drop being my stubborn Taurus this once.
My reward. The sexiest fucking doctor in scrubs (my favourite lingerie, five o’clock shadow framed cheekbones) I thought he must be the physiotherapist in those fresh sneakers already planning a return trip. He strolls in, (lord if this is the last thing I see, the last man who touches me, I’m good).
It’s moments that also bring us back to life, keep us here.
Another day, I would’ve been hospitalized.
The moment? Finding out my Senior benefits have kicked-in covering most of my prescriptions (the reason I was reticent to go to begin with. Girl.)
Timing can also be momentous.
Her thinking: “I just have to get into a cab, and sit. The airport, sit. Board the plane, sit. Arrive, sit.” Simple.
To be met with such kindness and loving care each and every step of the way. Jessica & Cory. Philip & Kirk. Sue & Pete. Jim, Robert, Al Moritz singing at The Snooty Fox, everyone at Poetry Weekend, Harbourville (the reading of a lifetime), Halifax with Sue, Paul, Annick, Nolan and a host of listeners at the Trident. And Crystal at Mr. Fish in Shelburne, NS. I had half-joked saying if I were homeless and/or drunk you’d most likely find my ass along that quaint little lane seaside. “It gets kinda cold down there in the winter,” Crystal warns. “O doll, we’ll find ways to keep warm!” (“You make certain you bring Kirby back here!”)
“Everybody needs time to think. Nobody can live without love.” - Neil Tennant
Finding out Barrie ON is a haven for artists (as is St Catherines, London). “Haven” might not be the right word… it’s not easy, but you can make it happen here. Actually, it’s these artists that make these places a haven. And they are. Slaying. Right Downtown.
Fertile Festival felt like going on a Sunday Picnic, we all made our way to Dundas ON, such good spirits and good will, all centred around/between poets listening/reading poetry and the significance of place. “Home base.” This couldn’t have happened in soul-sucking, nobody gives a fuck (except to bitch about how fucked-up) Toronto, instead we wanted to meet and celebrate what continues to be the hearth of poetry in Southern Ontario (and beyond), The Printed Word Bookshop and its brilliant bookseller James McDonald. A fine day. For the books.
The joy that is Hoa Nguyen in my life.
Along with their partner, Dale Martin Smith, they held a backyard shindig celebrating the launch of Dale’s The Size of Paradise. Dogs on the grill, sides, friends… picnics remind me of family outings in the best of ways. Plenty of laughter, good eats, and play. They were fun. I can see why Austin TX still misses these two.
*“Why Am I Alive Now?” by ANOHNI and the Johnsons from the album My Back Was A Bridge For You To Cross
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