secret: the magic that happens when you step out of your bubble into someone else's

i've been out of the country the last week. down in the good ol' usa, soaking up the culture, chilling with some awesome folk (some related, some i just wanted to marry) and having my 6-monthly profound realization about myself and my life.

i've been writing in my journal a lot. i felt like i might put a little of it out there. i will preface it all by saying i am drinking beer at 11am, and Frightened Rabbit is playing as my soundtrack(y'all need to listen to them, specially 'backwards walk' and 'old old fashioned').

i don't think i've posted poetry before, but i do write a lot of it, so here goes:

23 november:

something about traveling always makes me want to write. i must confess i don't feel as capable of literary eloquence as i used to.

no matter how many times i do the drive between whis and vancouver, it still hurts me a little bit, it's so beautiful. i could wax lyrical about the power of nature and the insignificance of man, there is grandeur in this way of life etc... maybe there would be music playing; orchestras and soundscapes...

truthfully i am a collector of beautiful things and this view is just fucking beautiful.

it makes me think though, of how all things and people have their perfection, and how perfection is just so subjective. makes me realize that hey, even i might have moments of perfection. maybe i should occasionally give myself a break, take a breath and kick back, ignore the impulse to explain and excuse myself for everything i do, say or think.

of course it's pretty easy to be this enlightened with such a view.

nov 25

what i am thankful for:

my health

my arms and legs

my family

the open-endedness of all this

my optimism when it comes to love

my patience

my middle class white heritage giving me the chance to spend time on this self-indulgent bullshit.

the chance to move on from what i've managed to learn. the chance to learn more.

and also, i am thankful for turkey, and microbrewery beers.

nov 26

shouldn't

in a sleepy Oregon town

and decisions days away.

America, all your money looks the same

you fools

(me with my handful of dollar bills)

making shapes out of hands,

my accent stripping me bare

in bars where

i'm a novelty

(i had forgotten how strange i sound)

and to my ears, America,

you are anything but.

jokes landing me in the middle of

accepted and nowhere.

i ache from participating;

soccer, Thanksgiving, movies in bed

with longlost cousinfriend

a kindred spirit; her buttons also undone

and lost altogether

the world pushes us,

we push the world

(and i demand: be. less. demanding.)

i pin on my lost cause label

and wander the town.

shouldn't,

but you're either late or my watch

runs early, in a sleepy Oregon town.

nov26

nothing on me.

you're sugary sweet

my brain has you dead and run over

before i even know how you taste.

so i'll take what i've got

and spread it helplessly across the countless

(pages)

like

hands up helpless, like

the endearingly-put shrug of someone

focused on those other than themselves.

the lesson learned is selfishness

spelled F.U.C.K Y.O.U.

with enthusiasm.

you're drunk and dancing

and the band has a banjo playing

we're all drunk and filled with lies

i'm aiming for clever and sophisticated

even charming

but just barely pulling off wasted

and you're all i ever wanted

so the filler is me learning the waltz,

and

in my memory it's slow motion

and i look happy and beautiful

and yeah

nothing hurts in the morning.

and yeah

nothing that small could ever hurt me.

nov 27, A.M.

the year becomes a little blurry 'round this

point, the purpose and

the step-by-step of progress

smudged and inky, held up as mess

in your little hands.

the people you meet,

and their plans for themselves, in a broader

less, or more sense

the people you've met

and their plans

stack up quickly and quietly

a peaceful and imposing threat towards

your disorganized state-

your own stacks of papers

getting blown about

your careful filing system

emptied of its alphabet.

28 NOV, PM

i'm not made of stone, nor apology

and i might stumble a little

over the words, and the spelling

or the delivery (i cleared my throat, but nothing),

you stand careful and motionless

i stand and

aim just shy of forgiveness

my eyes drawn to yours just that little bit

i'm not made of stone,

and you my friend are a quiet and perfect trifecta

can we be liars together, making a whole

alphabet of exceptions?

if you would say yes

just the once

i would be able, more than able

to quit with the futureless daydreaming

to settle myself, write the novel.

treasure: snowboarding

the mountain is open.

if the 1 & 1/2 of you that actually look in on this self-indulgent blog from time to time will recall, i am sort of into snowboarding. so this is rather good news for me...

whistler blackcomb were advertising for bloggers to write for them for the season, weekly, with the appealing offer of a free season pass. i considered this and actually got sort of excited about it, thinking about what i would write for my application to go with my resume. then i thought about it again and don't feel confident i could provide video footage and photos that would be up to par with the whole 'shiny squeaky clean' whistler blackcomb website. they must pay someone well to put together all the graphics and whatnot to make that site so tourist friendly.

i am generally a shit photographer, and right now only have my iphone and a little shitty camera to play around with.

it doesn't mean i don't love these mountains though, and so i thought i'd have a crack at the 250 words whistler blackcomb was asking for about 'your best day on the mountain', because i did originally start this blog for writing practice.

i actually think my best day of 09/10 season was the last day i spent on the mountain, which was late april/early may on blackcomb.

i was working at 1.45, the close shift at the supermarket i was at as a cashier for 6 months. so i had time to ride in the morning. miracle of all miracles, we had about 12cm of fresh juicy snow the night before. i was waiting for the lift at 9, when it opened. riding solo- i did a lot of that last season, firstly because i was learning to ride and i hate the idea of slowing people down, so i went up on my own most days, even if it was just for the hour before i started work to get a couple of runs in. once i could keep up i found that i still loved riding on my own, music playing in my ear, hitting the singles line at the lifts, sometimes just doing the same runs over and over again, totally stoked on it. just like this day in may. i went straight up aiming for jersey chair, to hit those few runs that i was loving at the time, when i realised i as perfectly capable of dropping right over the side- the powder was fresh, soft and forgiving and there were some trees to sneak into right over the other side of the groomer...

i think i probably hit that same run 5 or 6 times, with no lift lines, no falls, not a care in the world, until i saw that glacier chair was just about to open, with the tiniest line. as i came up to the very end of glacier chair, the last bits of cloud had cleared and it was officially a bluebird day- clear and beautiful skies with a view right down the valley.

there are very few moments in life where you truly believe you are untouchable. normally you're drunk at the time, and about to do something very stupid, which 9 times from 10 will end badly, probably with bruises. but this day was one of those days where i was so filled with the perfection i was experiencing that i felt weightless. everything went right- i picked good lines, i had the right tunes playing, and i had no falls. i felt like a superstar. i felt like someone should have been filming me. i did 3 runs from glacier, and coming out of the last run i went far right and took the trees that had been cleared out by the fires that went through in 09 summer, the first month i was in town.

fresh lines at midday on a bluebird day in may.

i didn't know at the time that it was my last day on the hill. i think if i did, it would have had to mean more, for me to do something significant like i did riding my last day on whistler, where i spent the day hurrying around trying to do all my favourite runs, hating the saddle in particular on the peak because it was damn icy. the way this last day fell though, it was just this sort of moment in time that made me the happiest i'd been for a really long time. since the innocent happiness of spending a whole day outside playing matchbox cars with my little brothers when i was about 10.

i'm in love with these mountains. the beautiful thing about this place is that everyone seems to have had this same connection i feel, and thus to have some kind of personal stake in the weather, the snow, all of it. i know if i hear people bitching about anything (especially at this point in the season where i'm still experiencing the heady rush of first love) to do with the mountain, i feel like shaking them... or kicking them in the shins hard enough to leave bruises.

not to get all enlightened on your asses, but life is really very simple. living here has taught me that, and i don't think i'll ever be the same.

secret: love and other parts of the pickle

at this time of the year it is easier to go down than up. the weather is rubbish. all you want to do is drink.

because it snowed today, like SNOWED EVERYWHERE, and i bought my season pass, and there are all these people that i'm meeeting, who are great and interesting and not full of shit (although there really are a lot of those too), i am in love.

during the day, when there is snow and lattes, this love is all uplifting and whatnot.

at nighttime you end up on facebook chat listening to random people with webcams who have posted videos on youtube, terrible covers of songs you like.

being in love is exhilirating but somehow melancholy when reality sets in and you are, for all intents and purposes, alone.

maybe if i focused my love upon one person instead of loving everybody.

but then how would i save the planet?

treasure: new room, new hair, butterscotch pudding

i got my hair cut and also dyed it purple. its my all time favourite colour to dye my hair.



and i moved house and have a new room with all my shit in it, including fairy lights i've been wanting to put up the whole time i've lived here.

and the mountain is going to open on friday, and there's just a whole world of potential, and on top of that, there is butterscotch pudding in the fridge.
love.