Love

Sigh.

Love, love, love. Love, love, love.

Isn’t that how that Beatles song goes?

Jacob was having one of his nightmare things last night, a light one. From out of sleep he joined us in the living room Larry surfing playoff hockey, basketball and watching some Blue Jays too.

To distract him from his brow scrunching bad visions Larry told him the Blue Jays were winning 4-2 in the 8th. In response Jacob switched his bad dream vocalizations to numbers. Six-six, four-two, he mumbled with more anxious trepidation, the numbers taking on the same bad meanings.

Our strategy to help him out was talking to him in normal voices he wasn’t hearing very well because of the dominating bad dream interference going on his head. I said, leave the door open, as he left the living room to return to bed. But he was closing it so I repeated it until he heard.

If there’s anything you need just call, I said. Then fast he said, love. I need love.

If only my blog entries were more socially relevant

We went out for an art walk yesterday. The funnest stop was at Paul Petro. Andrew Harwood had a show in the upstairs gallery called Psychic Friends. He was dressed in character as a drag queen Madam Zsa Zsa. The lighting was blue. He had his face covered in a veil. There was a swirling disco ball globe in front of him for his crystal ball.

What I liked about him was his intimacy. I was very comfortable with it. It made me realize I am like that too.

Since I know astrology well, I could feel Cancer energy about him. Cancer energy can be the most intimate. It’s water and it’s mother energy. I asked him his birth data and I was right. His Moon is in Cancer as is his Jupiter.

He needed you to get physically close to him to do his “readings.”

He was treating them like they weren’t serious and a joke but also like they were serious. He would say the colour he saw in relation to the question you were asking him. Having a methodology, seeing colours, means seriousness.

Since I am an Aquarius and my masculine side dominates my feminine in an (in my case) unhealthy way, I’m often in my cool aloof Aquarian side. But being with him, like I said, made me realize part of my strength is in my moony Cancer side. Except I’m always hiding and diminishing it.

When I went back on the street in the sunshine outside of the blue light I realized it’s my fear of men often knocking me out of that intimate side. All the scary men and my fear that I can’t be myself around them , that I have to succumb to their perspectives and needs, is how I get knocked out of that intimate side of myself and into my distant Aquarian head.

Also I am reading some literary blogs and feeling very stupid. People organize their thoughts in ways that don’t have the same kind of scope my astrological perspective does.

I’m scared it means they’re better and I don’t belong.

This Seder

For our Seder, in the kitchen between the main course and desert, after using the bathroom, Jenny, my mother in law complimented me on how clean the toilet bowl was. How did you get it that clean? She wanted to know, her voice in awe.

Really, I was thinking of an answer to her question. I was formulating it. The answer. But getting stuck. What I’d done to get it that clean really wasn’t that incredible. Realizing this made me think Jenny must also know that what I had done to get the toilet bowl the way it was really wasn’t that incredible.

While Jenny was in the bathroom she also cleaned the mirror I noticed after the fact, later in the evening after she’d left. Because I had Larry buy some Windex so I could clean it then I couldn’t figure out how to get it spraying then I went on to do some other house preparations for the Seder and forgot about it.

Then it was clean and I asked and Larry didn’t do it. No one else would have done it. No one else would be so presumptuous. Only the word presumptuous doesn’t come close to what Jenny does. Conversely the word bristling perfectly describes my response to how she acts. Other times, in the past, while visiting and using the bathroom she’s also cleaned the sink, the tap nozzles and the counter surrounding the sink.

Finding myself

What if a viable strategy to infiltrate the Toronto literary scene was to mill in crowds at literary events in such a photogenic manner that the crowd scenes photographer wouldn't be able to resist snapping pictures featuring me? And when enough of these pictures accumulated some kind of numerical function would automatically kick in, like daylight savings time, giving me instantaneous publish-ability.

I found this picture of me talking to Larry on Open Book Toronto's Facebook account.

Ongoing investigation

Larry found some cat puke in the bedroom and saved it to show me. The reason he saved it is because the majority of what was in the puke was fat blue elastic bands. We don’t know which cat it was. Larry thinks it might have been Lilu because she’s more antisocial. She’s weird. And eating blue elastic bands is weird too. I think it might have been Iggy. Because Iggy’s the one I see chewing on elastic bands all the time.

But why just the blue bands? There’s beige elastic bands lying around on the floor all over the place too. They’re the ones that wrap the newspaper. There’s also red ones negligently dispersed about the house. They come from lettuce heads for holding the lettuce leaves in place so the heads are easier to manage when you’re buying them at the grocery store.

One thing we know for sure. Whichever cat it was who puked is the one that favours the colour blue.