Speaking of days of yore, look at what I found on an old zip disk. I don't recall ever saving it, not in a folder and certainly not on a floppy. I remember saving files off of my daughter's computer last year when I got the laptop but I didn't think I had any blurty posts other than the 'nostalgia' one (found elsewhere here on journalscape now).

It's like finding a two dollar bill (bit of a novelty for us Canuck folks) in an old coat pocket. "Ahh, the good ol' days..."

I must be more of a packrat than I previously thought.


(original title and date posted unknown)
I am not chatty by nature. Only with my close friends do I volunteer ideas, opinions and most frequently, sardonic replies.

With family and soul mates flung far across the country, I have been more than quiet recently. Don't misunderstand - I enjoy my own company and the sound of my thoughts. I amuse myself; genuinely debating with that voice that is not tempered by morals, societal pressures or public acceptance. These are the whispers that don't have a voice and never will, lest I desire to be hauled off by mobs carrying torches, accompanied by shouts of "Witch! Daughter of Satan! Burn her!" at best, and "Sociopath! Immoral slut! Take away her children!" at worst.

And children are really all I have to speak with. My husband M. has been away for 4 weeks with a possible 2 more before he returns. The live-in acquaintance, J., works and when he returns in the evening, he eats, watches tv in his room then goes to sleep. Limited talk about work and movies might accompany dinner.

So. It's me, my 12 year old boy (intelligent and intense but most chat revolves around school chums - preteen boys are worse gossips than most women, not including teenage girls whom are altogether inhuman, cruel creatures) and a 9 year old girl that fortheloveofallthatisholy chatters constantly about the most inane subjects. She too is intelligent and humourous but I can only discourse about why girls rule and boys drool for so long before I feel a head ache coming on. Current world affairs, conspiracy theories, theoretical physics and the insanity of an organization like PETA are sleep inducers to them; unrealities outside their world experience. Besides, they're gone outside from morning to night.

My dogs are attentive. They adore the poetry of Byron and Neruda but e e cummings confuses them. The Globe and Mail is a good after-breakfast discussion except for the sports section - who gives a fuck about the Leafs? We want more Western Conference NHL coverage, thank you very much. They agree that Freud was simply loopy and the mere mention of Dr. Laura (heaven save us!) causes them to sniff their asses in disdain and leave the room. I concur and couldn't express it more eloquently. Alas, they are dogs and even their patience is tried by my need for mature conversation. At some point they'll look at each other with an expression that is clearly fortheloveofallthatisholy won't she stop? And I concede.

My ICQ contacts are all offline, or hiding. Perhaps they can cyber-sense that I'm desperate and mewling like a pathetic kitten for attention. It's a dangerous mood for me. I've stated on my now-defunct webpage that I'm easily swayed by words and art. It's still the truth. I fall in love so very easily with a well turned phrase, accidental poetry or a metaphoric image. Such wielders of language unknowingly seduce me, cause me to daydream of midnight trysts involving wine and the blues and readings of Calvino by candlelight; fingers entangled in my hair, murmured apologies with soft kisses for (un)intentional bruising, knowing looks, sated smirks.

I am consciously corrupted by the power of conversation. But don't let that scare you - it is my selfish vice and I won't share it with you. Talk to me about politics, about your car, about your first love, about whatever pleases you. I cannot guarantee well-informed responses. Only enthusiasm at your words, pleasure that you acknowledge my existence as an entity with sentience.

Post. Email. ICQ. Just talk to me.

And if I fall in love with you, don't take it personally.



soundtrack:Stereophonics - "Nothing Compares to You" acoustic