I MISS THEM ALL

Monday, January 18, 2010

I MISS THEM ALL

By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns

I’ve had so many people disappear from my life.
The list is as long as my arm.
For 5 years, Ian Dennis was my best friend.
We went to movies every week.
Sometimes two or more in a day.
He moved back to England when I was 13.

I know that aching, tumbling feeling in my gut so very well.
When I came out to him at 18,
Ian wished me well and never answered another letter.
I had visited him, the year before, in Southampton in the warm, luscious summer.

Linda moved to New York and I never saw her, again.
She directed me in lots of good, fun theatre.
I loved working with her.
We were on the same wave-length.

When I had an affair with the husband of a mutual friend,
Linda stopped writing to me.
(No. It’s not what you’re thinking.
His wife approved of the situation.
Helen knew that was what he needed.
I wasn’t a home-wrecker.
It was already destroyed.)
Linda, who looked a lot like Loreena McKennitt,
Died in a house fire, a few years ago.


David hanged himself,
Dangling from the top of a tall staircase, in an old duplex apartment,
Because he was going blind.
Wayne hanged himself in the Don Jail.
He had broken his probation and was about to go back to prison.
He just disappeared.
No one knew where he was.
One day, years later, I found out what happened by reading a newspaper article,
At 3 am, about jail suicides.

So many friends and colleagues died from AIDS in the early 90s.
Too many to mention.
Too sad to think about.

I never went to my grandmother’s funeral
When I was very young.
We didn’t get along and I didn’t want to deal with death.
I wanted to push it out of my life.
Once, as an adult, I went to nine funerals in 6 months.

Cheyenne died, suddenly, at 47.
Her 8 year old son found her slumped over in the bathroom.
They still don’t know what killed her.

The night my mother left the Earth, I had intended to go visit her in the hospital.
I called my Father.
He said, “Don’t go, tonight. Come here, tomorrow, for dinner and I’ll drive you there.”
Around 2 am, he called back to say she was dead.
“I’m sorry I told you not to go,” Dad said, choking back tears.

I’m not feeling morbid or down.
I’m just missing everyone.

Sandra became paralyzed from the neck down, after an operation,
Then caught a bug in the hospital, and that was it.
She used to love to talk on the phone.
Near the end, all Sandy could do was blink her eyes and shake her head.
She could mouth words but no sounds came out.

Aunts, Uncles, cousins, lovers, tricks and friends.
Gone to the other side.
I miss them all.

The older one gets, the more one witnesses death.
It slaps you in the face, like a head on collision.
Sneaks around the corner, like a thief in the night.

Sometimes people drift away, out of your life, for no particular reason.
It’s almost like they were dead.

shameless self love

Hey All,

First off: HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I know I'm late, but don't they always say "better late than never"?

I don't remember my new years much. All I know is that one minute I was taking photos at Buddies in Bad Times NYE Ghetto Bash and the next I was waking up in a motel room naked and covered in stuff and unable to walk for a few days. My first blackout!

Anywho, I recently finished a small fun photoshoot with a friend of mine Shealyn, and her friend Mike. We had a lot of fun out in Unionville and downtown, but due to the fucking cold we had to cut the downtown part of our journey short as my fingers were about five minutes short of being frost bitten. And what would one do without FINGERS?

So check out my current photoblog HERE.

Flickr is okay, but once I find a new free and awesome to use photo-journal site-thinger I'll upload the entire set, including all of my old work.

I hope all the writers and readers have had an amazing 17 days so far.
I know I have!

Toodles,
Kaila W. Montanna

SHORT POEMS #2

SHORT POEMS #2

By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns

1
Dreams are like clouds,
Ephemeral and golden.
Where’s your sense of humour gone?
It’s only sleeping.

2
Red garnets crunched under my bare feet.
The feeling was strangely soothing.
The healing properties of the stones
Lulled me into a tender dream state.

3
This walk is a long one.
It feels like 50 miles.
Am I getting old?
My heart is still beating.

4
My spirit soars up into Neverland.
My feet always touch the ground.
One has to do both in order to thrive, I think.
Life is a constant challenge.

5
I’m feeling the desire to write about sweet, sticky sex.
I’ll have to learn to control myself.
Don’t want to offend the uptight country folk.
Expletive deleted.

6
John loves Frank and Frank loves Joe.
Joe loves Freddy and Freddy loves Bob.
Bob loves Robbie and Robbie loves Ben.
But Ben is in love with himself, poor thing.

7
When it comes to sex,
Some people have no sense of humour.
Don’t leave them a flirty, naughty phone message.
It will come back to haunt you.

8
The green car sped across the vast expanse of central California.
The ocean followed the driver like a gentle shadow.
The sound of the sparkling waves calmed his nerves.
Endless possibilities danced in his head.

9
Jennifer Jones was an exquisite movie star.
An other-worldly fey quality surrounded her great beauty.
When you look at her natal chart,
You can understand why she married father figures.

10
Do you hear soft voices in your head?
If you do, you may not be crazy.
It’s only a new poem gently wafting through your brain.
Let it sing.

11
Don’t say cruel things to me, please.
It hurts more than you’ll ever know.
Try to be a little kind.
It certainly won’t kill you.

12
The actor burst into tears at the audition.
The script concerned rape and torture
And he was having a hard day.
He didn’t get the part.

SHORT POEMS

SHORT POEMS

By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns

1
I can’t shake your words.
They’ve been eating away inside of me,
Like molten lava.
I need to wash away these blues.

2
I may only write about the colour yellow
For the rest of my life.
What does it really matter,
One way or the other?

3
I’m hearing the sound of the ocean in Hawaii,
Warm and soothing,
Though I’m surrounded by dirty snow and bitter cold.
Do you blame me?

4
You are short and sweet and very sexy,
But you need to take care of yourself a bit more.
You enter my life like a split second ghost.
It’s a necessary thing.

5
Crystals and lovely trinkets hang from my kitchen window.
All the colours of the rainbow,
Or so it seems.
They put a tiny smile on my sour face.

6
It makes me irritable to walk outside when it rains,
All cold and sopping wet.
Best to hear it on a CD bought at a record store.
Turn it up to a reasonable volume and relax.

7
I like to watch children open their presents.
The delight on their faces is an infectious thing.
Would you like to be a child, once more?
Not for me, thanks.

8
Don’t know much about the life of Mahler.
His music can make you weep or feel wistful.
I wonder what goes on in the mind of a composer when he or she writes.
Their own little private concert.

9
Vanessa Redgrave was celibate for more than a decade.
That’s not my idea of a good time.
I hope she was happy.
Her artistry is as tall as the Eiffel Tower.

10
Gotta snap out of it.
Must return to the living.
Mercury Retrograde is a challenging place to be.
Three weeks of misunderstandings, 4 times a year.

11
Purple is an amazing colour.
It vibrates at a high frequency.
Spiritual and soft and almost a whisper.
It washes over me like a Tsunami.

RECIPE FOR A POEM

RECIPE FOR A POEM

By Philip Cairns

Copyright 2010 by Philip Cairns

First off, never use any swear words in your poem.
You don’t want to offend small town Ontario.
If you use even one naughty word,
You might get a nasty email from the event organizer
Asking you never to return to another reading at that venue.

Even if you have vile thugs in your poem,
Don’t let them swear.
When Matthew Shepard was being tied up and waiting to die,
Do you think his oppressors said rude, filthy words to him?
Of course not.
They were worried that maybe a librarian was hiding behind the bushes
And would tell on them.
We all know that thugs never swear.

Next, never talk about sex, not even the missionary position.
No one wants to hear about dirty, nasty sex in your poetry.
It will offend them.
Your audience only wants to hear about flowers,
And trees and mushy, misty things, like love.

Whatever you do,
Don’t talk about anything even mildly kinky.
It’s unnatural and evil.
Open-minded people don’t like poetry.
They’re too busy going to orgies and doing illegal drugs.
We all know that.

Don’t let the words trip off your tongue.
Don’t read it like a good Shakespearean actor.
People will think it isn’t really poetry.
They’ll tell you it’s just performance-art
Even if it's written in verse.
After all, at a poetry reading,
The audience can’t see your poem.
They can only hear it.

Also, never be bitter, angry or cynical in your verse.
Make it sound like a Hallmark card.
Sweet and sugary,
Something a 3 year old could understand.
If you’re feeling peeved or fed up or any of these unnatural emotions,
Don’t sit down to write a poem.
You’ll regret it.
They’ll never invite you to be a featured reader if you do.
You’ll be stuck doing open mics until you die.

Have I left anything out?
Oh, yes.
Don’t, whatever you do, write about homosexuality or bisexuality or any of those vile things.
The poetry audience is 98% heterosexual and they will hate you for mentioning those awful, sickening things.

And be sure never to go over the time limit at an open mic.
If you do it more than once, you'll never hear the end of it.
After all, what’ll you do if you’re banned from every venue in Toronto?
It’s expensive to move to New York.
You’ll have to get a real job and then you’ll have no time to write new poems.

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to approach me.
I’m dying to end by using a nasty, wicked, filthy word.
That’s another thing,
Always exercise self-control when you’re writing.
Don’t get carried away with emotion.
If you do, you may end up breaking one of these rules.
The consequences of that are truly unthinkable.
Thank you so much for listening.
Class dismissed.

Ants in Your Burrito, Liar Liar!

Please read this and let me know your thoughts....SCAM OR NOT?

Toronto man eats a few bites of a burrito and then determines that it tastes kinda funny and finds 50 dead ants in there.  Say what?

This story reminds me of the following.  Everyone remember the finger in the chili hoax a few years ago at Wendy's, right?  Wendy's lost a bunch of money, got a ton of terrible advertising, and in the end...it was just pure bullshit.

This Toronto man with the dead ants reeks of bull shit to me and here's why...

1) It's story is written by Toronto Sun, which is known for it's tabloid-esque reporting.  Why is this even a story? He found some bugs (or wait, they counted exactly 50?...no they didn't), he returned it, and got offered a replacement.  Toronto Sun is trying to turn it into something else.

2) He didn't want the replacement burrito, so he keeps the burrito.  Or did he?  He just claims to have the burrito.   Which by now, he could have put anything in.  Oh there's also a rat, some poison, and an aborted fetus.

3) I don't eat at McD's, but doesn't breakfast stop being served at most places before 11.  So how'd he get the burrito?

Essentially, I think this is simply another fast food scam of someone trying to either get themselves some exposure or a cash settlement from a major corporation.

What do you think?

My decade in review...

It's officially a new decade and with that comes a reflection on the last one.

Personally, this last decade saw me fall in love for the first time and then again and once more.  I learned what it's like to be the 'other lover' and both the cheater and cheatee.  Never one for the casual, these loves took up more than 6 years of the last 10 years.  I most definitely went with the 'projects.'  The one's that I felt could be saved only to learn that only they can 'save' themselves.  These last 18 months were spent figuring out if monogamy is what I want or if bed hopping would be sufficient.  I think my actions during this last month have cemented that for the next decade, I want to seek substantial loves.  While it may mean living without constant sexual shared gratification, it'll leave my mind and spirit in tact.

As for friends, I really only communicate with one friend that I met prior to this decade.  I left high school a year early due to emotional circumstances.  Plus, I tend to attract those with an adventurous spirit and quickly found my HS posse in all different parts of the world.  I found one of my best friends at the earlier part of this decade, lived w/ her for 3 years, and continue to be grateful for her friendship and love.  Recent years, I've made some really good friends who taught me that one can be queer and not sleep w/ their friends.  My early 20's taught me that to be friends w/ queers means that you have slept with them.  I'm friends with only one of those.  Most of all, I learned that friends are worthwhile and can be drama free.  No longer, do I attract or accept those that cause me harm, bring negativity into my life, or ask more of me than I of them. 

Family - I feel much more connected to them in the latter part of this decade.  The glue would be my nephew.  It's amazing what one individual can do to a group.  Pre-nephew the family was all going their separate ways and I am not sure what would have happened without him.  His early struggles found us each relying on each for strength and support.  His successes found us delighting in seeing that true strength is watching a premature baby fight minute to minute to survive.  With each milestone, it's as if we're each coming closer together.  We're far from perfect, still have to let go of much of the past, but I feel much more connected to both my immediate and extended family.

Professionally, this last decade has been my most successful.  While a majority of my friends seem to be still trying to find their professional footing, I lucked out and found great success.  Actually, I celebrated a decade of working for the same organization this year.  I came and went throughout this time, but was always attached to them.  I am lucky enough to have found a place where I'm consistently supported, forced to grow, and make a good salary.  It is now after a decade that I'm considering a career move, but this is only due to having such a strong foundation for so long.

Finally, this last decade saw a return to the arts for me.  I started the decade behind the scenes with a potential career in stage management.  Only to decide that I needed to be back on the stage.  The belief of an uncle had me performing drag (something I never had considered) in a show that was heralded the best of the year in its first run and then the worst of the fringe in another year (welcome to showbiz!).  A reply to an ad connected me with an arts program that completely changed my artistic focus.  This one reply led to 2 years of artistic exploration and encouragement that allowed me to develop as an artist.  It allowed me to fully realize that acting in dead men's plays was of no interest to me.  It was creating 5 min. silly sexual spoken pieces to beats that I enjoyed.  From there, it was fully realizing my potential as an artist and empowering others that shared commonalities that was important (re: hard & able).  This is one area that I am particularly excited about exploring over the next decade.

A ton more happened over this last decade.  My fun exploring Canada both in a household of 11 youth and then solo, my constant moves ('rents to 398 main to 'rents to Eastdale to 'rents to Greg's place to 'rents to Condo Vicora), and my own self battles with self esteem & self love. 

It's difficult to see how this next decade will compare to this last one.  This last one saw so many firsts: love, job w/ benefits, car, lease, event production, etc.  The decade of my youth has come and gone and now I look forward to the decade of becoming a full fledged adult...no clue what that means.