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BY Kupka

04/01 Direct Link
This is where I feel I am suppose to write about a trick that was played on me. One that makes me some kind of fool. If the past couple of years haven't been a colossal joke with a run-on punchline, then I don't know of any other trick that can come close.

I've always identified with the fool. Pull his card out of tarot deck, he is the zero. He looks only forward, pack on his back, dog at his heels. He doesn't notice the precipice he is going to walk over. The potential for tragedy. This is me!
04/02 Direct Link
I want you to do something for me. Give me your cold hands. Relax. Just relax. I want to place them here. No! I am not making a pass at you, or getting fresh. Uncurl your fingers.

Oh! There. Feel the heat?

You can't believe my skin can feel so hot. Conversely, how can your skin can feel so cold?

I like to take advantage of the cool and calm that your touch provides. You won't take advantage of the heat my body can give you. I invite you to do so again and again, but you would rather freeze.
04/03 Direct Link
Just a little variation

Dream
Up with the radio, your touch, my response
Shower, breakfast
Dress yourself (always colours to enhance the red hair), something funky
Car. Drive. Accelerate. Brake. Signal, check blind spot, change lanes. Repeat. Park.
Trudge up the stairs to office
Trudge downstairs to get coffee
Log-in open various programs
Work. Work. Work.
Insert lunch time activity or inactivity.
Work. Work. Work.
Trudge downstairs to car
Drive. Accelerate. Brake. Signal, check blind spot, change lanes. Repeat. Park.
Home, bound upstairs
Dinner, wash dishes, chat
TV, movie
Play a game
Play with the cat
Off to bed
Dream
04/04 Direct Link
The Atlanta motel was the first really seedy motel I had ever been in. We rented the room because we were tired of having sex in the back seat of your parents car. Our room hadn't be redecorated since the 1970s. Bare essentials, with a tv and a bathroom.

My conservative parents thought I was at an all night party, but insisted I had to be home early Saturday morning. When we finally fell asleep, I kept waking at times expecting my father to come through the door. He had found out where I was and what I was doing.
04/05 Direct Link
Last night I dreamed of water. Pools and pools of water. Blue chlorinated water lit with the bright sun of the day. It was my birthday. Many of my friends had gathered around for a party. My one friend swims naked with me, when he finds out I forgot my swimsuit.

Every scene takes on shades of aqua and teal in the sun. I'm weightless and floating. Any darkness I usually feel about life has disappeared, replaced with contentment and peace.

When I wake, I draw the covers closer to insulate myself and the peace with warmth, cotton and feathers.
04/06 Direct Link
Still dirty

Today it is still dirty.
Fingerprints accumulate. Prints on prints on prints.
Another day and it is still dirty.
Garbage fills the can and overflows.
It is still dirty!
Dots of spilt coffee darken parts of the floor.
Can you believe it is still dirty?
Hair sticks to the sticky spots.
Yes, it is still dirty!
Crumbs collect in the corners.
It wasn't always this dirty.
All is grimy and dingy.
The dirty is multiplying daily.
Black marks on the white walls.
How does it get this dirty?
Streaks on the windows.
So dirty.
Where's the cleaning staff?
04/07 Direct Link
Martin & Lewis

If life is a comedy, more so than a tragedy, then I am the perfect straight man. Don't look to me to pull silly faces or dance a strange jig. I am good at emoting shock and awe. A raised eyebrow or looks of slight dismay, are what you can expect from me to give you the laugh.

The straight man acts as the catalyst in getting the stooge or buffoon the laugh. Rarely does he get the laugh. He is garnish in the comedy world. A key component, but ultimately expendable. I am Martin never Lewis.
04/08 Direct Link
As we get comfortable in the cramped space of the small airplane, I complement the woman beside me on the fun graphics on the bag she is placing under the seat. "It has a story behind it that is too long to tell for this short flight," she says. We exchange conversation on our reasons for traveling to our destination and our chosen careers.

Even before take-off I have my book out and open. She stares at the title, then pulls out Cosmo. Having nothing in common, there is nothing more for us to discuss. There is no connection.
04/09 Direct Link
Motifs of light and dark, white and black
Reflections in mirrors of doppelgangers and twins
Balance and counterbalance of good with evil

A chess game played off the board
Supernatural beings in the natural world
A King sacrificed for a queen

Rituals and entrances tied to constellations
Death, loss, violence tied to blackness
Red curtains hang over a zig-zag floor

The owls are not as they seem
Mystery, light, unknown white lodge
Do the good guys win in the end?

Everyone has two sides, two lives
People are not as they seem
Everyone has the potential for good and bad
04/10 Direct Link
"Hello Love!" I said, as Love crawled in to bed with me last night. Love touched my arm and shoulder before settling down. I kissed Love's head in return.

"I love you Love," I whispered softly. Love's big dark eyes looked back at me. Love said nothing, but snuggled closer.

I pull the covers up over myself and Love. Love's head rested on my pillow. We warmed each other, but after a while Love slipped out of my arms. Love left me.

I would hold Love through the night, if I could. But, my Love is always fleeting.
04/11 Direct Link
I use to paint with oil on canvas.
I use to paint with water, tempera and paper.
Add some coloured pencil for depth of colour and detail.
I use to paint with acrylic on canvas.
I no longer paint in these mediums.

I use to photograph in black and white.
In the darkroom the magic would happen.
I use to photograph in vibrant colour.
F-stop. Aperture set to just right.
I no longer photograph on to film.

I've become a hack in this digital age.
Virtual paint. Virtual canvas.
Virtual digi-cam world.
If it ain't right, then just hit delete.
04/12 Direct Link
There she is, you know her.
That gal next door?
She's a nasty girl.
You'll be wanting more.

Reach out and touch her,
She won't say no!
She's a nasty girl.
Don't you know!

Tho she don't seem that nasty to me.
Is there something I just don't see?
There must be something that she do,
I think it is only for you...

She's sweet. She's kind.
She'll make you feel good.
She's a nasty girl.
Oh, that you could,

Spend more time.
More time with her.
She's a nasty girl.
You want her for sure.

She's a nasty girl.
04/13 Direct Link
Today my father is marrying someone else. Not that there is anything wrong with that, in theory. I feel like a parent whose child is marrying someone for the wrong reasons. It is a helpless feeling. A wedding is suppose to be a celebration. But, I feel like I'm going to a funeral. The simplestexplanation for my feelings can be stated: she's not the right woman for him. No, I do not think he and my mother should still be together... really, how am I suppose to feel, meeting the bride for the first time just before the wedding?
04/14 Direct Link
They laid down a concrete path from the door to the parking lot. It took them two months to complete. After the winter, they brought in a back hoe with a drilling bit and broke up all the concrete. They spent two more months laying down stone, where the concrete once was. It is the same with the roads. Put asphalt down. Two weeks later, pull it all up. Of the various engineering branches, I think the party boys and fuck ups all end up in the civil engineering field. Who else would plan things this way, but drunken idiots?
04/15 Direct Link
In lieu of consuming the grey roast beef with gravy, I'm to have the over dressed salad and over cooked frozen mix vegetables. "But, we have buns!" I was told. This is not music to a vegetarian's ears. A bun does not a meal make! I would have even settled for some over cooked spaghetti, which is the usual "vegetarian" option provided at a meal such as this.

Sure, in Biblical times a crowd could be fed on loaves and fishes, with the veggie set just having the bread, in modern times, a buttered bun just don't cut it.
04/16 Direct Link
In the shower I ran through the numbers. Intervals of tens, twenties, even thirties, though no forties. The numeral two sure does play a dominant role this year. Next year there will be threes to contend with. Forty plus thirty. Sixty plus forty. Thirty and fifty. Thirty and thirty. There is that errant ten.

I don't usually let numbers hold sway in my head. I leave them to the two accountants to figure the sums. The two librarians (or is it three?) are in my matrix. The errant ten won't fit my sums for a minimum six more years.
04/17 Direct Link
To Catch A Fish

Take one piece of yellowed scotch tape. Twist the length of this many times to create a firm string or rope. Even the yellowed glue will redevelop some stick when the water hits it. At the bottom of this string, fashion a loop, using which ever process you choose. No commercial made fish hook is needed here. Attach an open safety pin to the loop. The pin will act as your hook.

Commence fishing. No bait required.

NOTA: This contraption caught me two large silver fish, which I hung on a silver chain around my neck.
04/18 Direct Link
An unmusical musical interlude:

La dee da! La dee da! La dee da! La dee da!
La dee da! La dee da! La dee da! La dee da!
La dee da! La dee da!
Shoo be doo be! La dee da! La dee da! La dee da!
Shoo be doo be! La dee da! La dee da! La dee da!
Ba doo be doo. Shoo be doo be! La dee da!
Ba doo be doo. Shoo be doo be! La dee da!
La dee da! La dee da! La dee da!

(sung or said off key and out of time)
04/19 Direct Link
Bribery works. With the oral fixation I have, I would have been a smoker. The deal went down as follows: Don't smoke. Not one puff, until the age of 21.Receive : 200 dollars. Seemed like such an easy thing to do. And it was. Peers don't pressure you when they know that there is some serious dough on the line.

Days after my twenty-first birthday, I smoked. Oh, did I smoke - couple of cigarettes, couple of drags on a cigar, contact high from some pot. Doesn't seem like much until I tell you it was all in one night.
04/20 Direct Link
There are few things that I truly hate to eat. Number one on my list is Brussels sprouts. Number two is liver. And number three is home made pickled eggs.

My parents would take us down to St. Lawrence Market in Toronto every couple of years. The would buy a couple of dozen extra small or peewee eggs. In a large glass jar, the hard boiled eggs were soaked in a brine of vinegar, garlic, pickling spices. These eggs had a taste I will never forget or grow to love. Not to mention thesulfury vinegary smell. Ew! Gak! Barf-o-rama!
04/21 Direct Link
I was searching for specific information within my email archive. Some of your emails came up in the results. Reading them made me feel a terrible sadness for what was there and what is now. I know. I know. It couldn't last. Everything changed at that one point in time. A shift away and you closed yourself off to me. Still, we continue on in a much modified fashion. Don't we?

It ain't love, baby. It ain't love. And it ain't friendship. But, if it ain't those, then what is it?

Perhaps today, I'm just regretting the choices I made.
04/22 Direct Link
I stand at the door barring her way in. She yells. She curses. She pushes me. She pushes the door inward. In the next moment, she is still out in my garage, but now hog tied and seated on a plush chair. I cover her body with a bed sheet. She struggles to free herself, madly driven to get inside my house.

In the short span of time it takes to turn around, she is gone. I hear the door slam. OH GOD! She's made it inside. I know that she is headed for the attic. I call the police.
04/23 Direct Link
I'm narrow minded.
I'm old fashioned.
I don't "really know" how to do my job.
I bock at strategic planning.
I haven't done enough research.
I should know how to implement this change.
I'm too good at saying "no!"
I'll get left behind if I think that way.
I'm incompetent.
I'm silly.
I spend too much time on this task.
I don't spend enough time on other "more important" tasks.
I should tell my customers I will only do X amount for them.
I'm daft.
Frankly, a newbie should totally be able tell me how to do my job.
04/24 Direct Link
In my opinion, the world is full of lazy shits like myself. For me to get inspiration from a disposable paper coffee cup is crap. Churchill didn't win the war through writings printed on a box of oats. Gandhi didn't advocate for non-violence by publishing short manifesto-like excerpts on tubes of toothpaste. There is no way I'm going to become a millionaire, billionaire or social-activist by reading fifty words on my morning cup ofjoe . So, save the bullshit texts and replace the with some good old advertising. The revenue can be used to lessen the price of my latte.
04/25 Direct Link
White Stories

Sharp pain and the world goes white. I come to in a padded white cube room. There is one light over head and no windows. Glancing down I see I'm dressed in white pants and a white jacket. A straight jacket. Struggling to sit up, my hair falling in my eyes, it is white. My hair has lost all colour.

In one corner I see a red spot on the white floor. Shuffling over, the small spot gets bigger the closer I get. It oozes across the floor towards me, as I move across the floor towards it.
04/26 Direct Link
There is a tiny shard of glass in my toe. It can be felt when I'm standing in the shower or when I'm walking with out shoes. It feels like a small stone. Tweezers and a safety pin to get it out. I poke at the spot with the pin. I can't seem to catch the sliver. I poke some more. A little piece of skin gives way in a bloodless fashion. Still no glass is found. A little deeper with the pin head, a sudden release. But, what of it? Some liquid and one small dark bit of string.
04/27 Direct Link
Don't you know what is going on? Don't you know what happens next?

I don't. I wish someone would tell me, though. Most folks seem to have it all together. They know what comes next. They have a plan.

I'm not enjoying the ride right now. I'm not sure what comes next. I don't know where to go from here. I have no plan. But, how could I, when I don't know where I'm headed. There was a time when I would have had it all planned out. I'd have known where I was headed and how to get there.
04/28 Direct Link
He chomps down on his lollypop, then takes out the pea shooter and says his only line, "Go ahead. Make my day."

So, in the play his character is little dirty Harry. He's a cross between Pigpen and Clint Eastwood. No kidding!

Yeah. In the finale, he gets a sling shot AND a BB gun. He single-handedly defends the neighbourhood from older invading bullies, who aim to steal lunch money and hand held gaming systems from smaller children.

Wow.

One last thing, his theme song is going to be either the Gorillaz "Clint Eastwood" or "Dirty Harry."

Nice.
04/29 Direct Link
I'm not going to make it.
Screw it. I just won't do it.
I can make it.
I'm not going to make it.
Fuck. I'm a lazy ass.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I should finish what I start.
I'm not going to make it.
Oh GOD! Why do I do this?
Fuck. Piss off.
Push yourself!
Be gone voices in my head!
Fuck me. FUCK ME!
I'm happy in my failures.
No you aren't.
It is too hard.
Go fuck yourself.
LEAVE ME BE!
Get off your ass.
Fuck you! FUCK YOU!
Don't be such a pussy!
FINE! Fine. I'll finish.
04/30 Direct Link
Quiet. All is quiet in the spring. The busy world dies with the coming of the leaves and the greening of the grass. Boredom and tedium come to live within this quiet. Only a skeleton crew remains. They hide behind the glass walls. They murmur short snips of conversation about nothing. Slow turning fans and air conditioning hide the horrid screams and sickly moans from the room with the green glass. Little changes in the slow grind of stones, slow enough to gather moss, one suspects.

Then one day the screams and moans stop. All is quiet. The flowers bloom.