If you see her

If you see her tell her to run, tell her I am sorry for all I’ve done. For her life has not yet begun and now history pins her… stunned. A repetition of course with no remorse without passion or source, running away on the dark horse. Stupid is as stupid does, it is today and then it was. A flawless execution of sabotage clothed in happy camouflage. Bite bite, gnawing ache, the body manifest heartbreak, how much more can you take, you fake. Tell her to run and not feel bad, tell her to disappear like this life is all she had. Because laughter and sunset will not heal the heart of regret. She’s okay now, and will continue to be. Don’t reach out to her, or should I say me. But if you see her walking down the path chase her to the light, she’s cute but not bright, she needs the value of your insight. Not tomorrow but like last night. More dense than weak, too scared to speak, out of place like a lost antique. Cookies, cookies swallow the pain, it didn’t work do it again. Smiling at the sight of this now, I vow. If I see her I will give her bow. Because she survived some how. 

Well its official

My parents are my best friends. These days I deal with the impulse of moves that dot my history like a Greyhound on the midnight milk run. The wreckage of which, if nothing else, is true friendship. Yes I am fully responsible for said erratic behavior and in turn have come to grips with its effect on my current situation. That is with the exception of true tangible friendship. Having young kids I knew my adjustment period would be prolonged but 2 years is a little ridiculous. And although I have forged some rather hopeful bonds here with some beautiful people alas when I have trivial information to bounce there is no one immediate person there. So I rush to the phone to call which ever parent still has the patience to listen. I have even resorted to having some trivial adult conversations with my kids..dog…and yes, the guinea pig. My soul mates are still out there, and you know who you are, but they are now very busy with their own husbands and kids or lives. Don’t cry for me Canada. As I settle and let my guards down I am sure my future friends will find me. But tonight, as I am thankful for my parents, I remember the times with those few who loved me all the way knowing who I truly was and forgiving my faults and just being real. 

Sometimes you can never go back.

About a million years ago Jason and I went to Paris and fell in love with the city. Our brave ignorance lent us a flashy little neighbourhood and our reckless abandon led us to Man Ray's. We overheard a real french beauty exlaim to some irish bachelor party that this was the place to go. So we went there. And I see now we can never go back. It's sad but I am happy that my husband's sense of adventure surfaced long enough to force me down that long red velvet corridor into this magic little moment that could never be again. Thanks honey.

"This restaurant, located in an old movie theater, opened with a big bang about a decade ago. Close to the Champs Elysées, Man Ray cateeds to the in crowd. Johnny Depp, John Malkovich, Sean Penn, and Mick Hucknall (Simply Red) were partners in the business.

The décor was pseudo-nouveau-Asian meets bordello deco, and everything was done on the grand scale. The place evolved and became known as "The World Place." Now, apparently, no longer open to the public, it is called "Le 1515" and available for lease for weddings, large banquets, etc.Trendy comes, and trendy goes!"

http://www.virtualtourist.com/travel/Europe/France/Ile_de_France/Paris-99080/Restaurants-Paris-Man_Ray-BR-1.html

Francis Bacon caught my eye...

I was quite lost in art school and struggled to fit in amoungst the eclectic group of talent I ran into. So many were better talkers than artists and a few were natural artists who didn't talk much. I never felt like I was either. It was strange to be asked what it was I had to say. I don't know that I ever fully embraced the opportunity. 

I surely have much more to say now. 

But in the maze of fakers and fantasy makers I found a friend. Yes, he was dead so presumedly we didn't talk much and yet he spoke to me louder than anyone in four years. He was as they say "bold, austere, graphic and emotionally raw." He seemed innately dark but he was so damned real to me. His name was Francis Bacon. And although I never shared his talent I did appreciate it. More so I admired his truth. He once said that his career was delayed because he had spent too long looking for a subject that would sustain his interest. My study in Photography and capturing movement helped me to relate to his mastery as did my insecure connection to anything of substance.  

Francis-Bacon’s-“Three-Studies-for-Self-Portrait”-1976

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So in my venture to find the newest cool thing I could long for: Exhibit A

POSTED IN: MEN'S HIGH FASHION

I stumbled upon a reference to a designer with a great talent, and a brilliant set of photographs on his website that smartly display his work and weave in the imagery of a master of inspiration.

http://www.rafsimons.com/

And I sleep happy tonight, and I don't know why....I guess I was just reminded of a friend I forgot I had.