a summer morning

Adam is...

1) Writing a book
2) Listening to the new Augustana record
3) Watching 'Once'
4) Trying.
5) Feeling the summer lonelies. Sigh.

6) Eating blueberries.

Take care

some home

on expectations and my failing approach to relationships.

keep me in good company.
I need somewhere to call home.

every line I write falls captive to the wind.

~

I can't remember what I had to say,
to get this off my shoulders,
to do better at self-confidence.
It seems the hurting are the most outspoken.

whatever hurting means.

maybe I was way too hard on myself,
maybe we all are, in many ways.
and I have fallen under my own judgement.
my heart is wrecked with the things I say.

~

keep me in good company,
I need somewhere to rest my weary heart,

I can't keep up
the unfolding act of keeping my composure.

I expect too much of mountain peaks,
of sunny days that were supposed to last longer.
and belonging that was supposed to come through
for days like this.

I was good for a second there,
I still long for more than just 3 good days a year.

~


I'm making this up as a go along.
being my own mentor and father figure.
If only self-confidence was somewhat easier to do alone.
and I go at it as bravely as I can.

when did this house get so sarcastic,
and when did I get so bad at being cautious?

~

I was good for a second there.
It seems I only scare away those I care for.
I should just pack it in and go back home.

I don't want to wait until life feels good enough again,
I can't live up to a word I say.


~

In any case, my life is in a bit of transition this week. My roommate is slowly making his way out, and a new one is making his way in. I'm trying to keep myself together in the mess of organizing a years worth of life.

My exams finished last week and so I spent some time reflecting on being a leader this last year (a painful, fulfilling, experience) and looking forward to being even more of a leader next year.

Spring is lazily making its way in this year, preceeded by snow and cold wind. My friend gave me a pipe last week, so I am smoking more than usual ("usual" being never, really).

In any case, this is how my journal is unfolding. I feel super vague, and I'm having a hard time. If you want to ask me about any of this you know where to find me / e-mail me.

sonic youth is terrible

Hm. My last entry kind of sucked, again. I am really not doing well at this whole "sounding interesting" lately. I will make it up to you.

It has been overcast as anything since Saturday. Though, I am done exams, and I now have time to read books I have been meaning to read... among them;

The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck
The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz, Mordachi Richler
The Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner
A Complicated Kindess, Miriam Toews

Alright. I have to write something good soon. It has been too long.

PS- If you haven't seen Juno yet, watch it over a cup of yorkshire harrogate tea. That and "Paris je' Taime".

See you.



PPS - I am wearing the most uncomfortable clothing known to man today, which does not fit. Clothing should not stretch. Meh.

ghosts and angels

ghosts

The cold shivers like ghosts
haunting melody, piano,
keys tie together as if sewn by hand.

how did I wake up today?
solitude is lost like artless prose,
beauty refuses to acknowledge our arrival.

I can hear her sing, faintly,
Clair de Lune,
odeless words sing like old sea shanties.
In early hours I listen for her voice.

What beauty do I have to call to now?
an ode is cast for no arrival,
no hands to capture this melody.

Why is grace to write songs given,
only to be left remote, unknown?

The breeze shivers like angels
haunting refrain, guitar,
strings resigned to quiet peace;

a maid-in-waiting humming softly in the night.

weighed down, full of something

It occured to me, between procrasting my paper and a lonely friday morning, that I have not posted music in the last week or so.

So... enough said.



Have a good one.

Evenings

an insight on fasting: eating food and sharing community cannot be separated. Sharing food is essential to time spent together. Its interesting.

more or less / evenings

Pt. 1

a new CD to call my own,
something I haven't had in quite awhile.
I mass produce most of music collection.
I almost forget which parts were free.

And I forgot what I was going to do today
somewhere between feeling broken and two cups of coffee.
We seem to live in a state of unresolved sadness,
And that is the very thing that makes us human.
apparently.

My first cup since I started this,
something I haven't tasted since Sunday.
I can't decide just yet if this is numbing the pain or
if its just me trying to feel fine about my life
for once.

My head is spinning because of the coffee,
or maybe its the long night alone again.
Thieving and wandering in creativity.
listening just makes it easier living with myself.


Pt 2.

I read some old poems I wrote last year.
And I decided I might stop talking to "you",
a vague person I refer to.
I seem to forget who I'm talking to sometimes.
or I just like the idea of having someone to give words to.

I write much like I take adventures,
always wishing i could share the story, at that moment.
I don't want to keep all this to myself.

Pt 3

Its been a very interesting 4 years.
I'm different, but the same.
I still feel the constant need for love.
But now I'm starting to know why.

I can't stand to be this honest and still not feel confident.
I'm more a fan of feeling specific and concise.
I almost forgot I wasn't eating this week.
Somewhere between feeling unfinished and two cups of coffee.

another evening of friends with pizza would be nice
right about now. or when this thing is over.
A nice fire and some candles, some hot chocolate, a movie
and some awkward glances. We're both wondering how I feel.

...

I should probably get some reading done now, with all this free time. Let's hang out later.

- Adam

we could have tea and conversation

So, do you remember that story I told a while ago, about coffee that was eaten by foxes and then "excreted"?

Well, today I made my way down to a tea shop here in Nanaimo, and I picked up this tea called "Pu-erh", a tea which is stored in bat guano.

The tea this shop was selling was stored in guano for 5 years. I was told that a tea stored in guano for about a hundred years would cost in the thousands.

In the tea store there was a small wall with tea stored in green bins, which you could take down and smell. This one tea I smelled was like a forest fire, a rich smoky smell. I was really impressed. One of the things I picked up was a "flower burst", which is a ball of tea that turns into a flower in water.

So, now I have two new things to add to my list of things I love;
1) Teas stores
2) Henna. I was a party on friday, and I got a henna design on my arm. Henna is an indian plant-based stuff that you use to draw designs on your skin, then you let it dre, and it temporarily dyes the design on your skin. Take that tattoing.

What has my trip to the Island beeen so far you ask (besides a lot better than my last visit)? It started it off with me riding the bus and the ferry with a girl who used to go to my school, and me being too much of a loser to approach her (i suck).

I stepped off the ferry and walked immediately to the beach, and the forest area, beside the ferry terminal- the same forest I lived beside for a summer. It brought back some good memories of finding solitude in masses of green with the sound of running water.

Then I made my rounds at my favorite coffeehouses, which I used to frequent- Coyote Cafe, and The Buzz- both of which are solid coffee places.

Then I decided to have some calamari at a romantic mediteranean place with my roommmate, jeff. The whole time we were both wishing the other was of a more feminine persuasion.

Nanaimo's downtown, by the way, is a quiet place to be after hours. Its not hard at all to find a place of solitude in this town. Or cute girls that work at coffeehouses either. Both of which I kind of like.

But, I don't think I'm going to move back here anytime soon. I still like the idea of being within driving distance of both Vancouver and Seattle. And concerts. I like concerts.

Well, this has been way too long. I have much prose to give you in the next little while. I might work on that when I get home on Wednesday.

happy advent (can't wait to get back).

- Adam

guess you're the only one

stuff I can talk about for the sake of talking:

1) I finished exams yesterday. which hasn't impressed me yet. I still have that insecure "gah, something is due tommorow" feeling.

2) Thought I'd shave today. I do not look like a man anymore. Damn.

3) I need a good haircut. I mean, an actual good style. Any ideas on where I should go?

4) I finished a bit of my indie poetry book this week. I should have a number of copies on my coffee table by the end of the day.

Though, after a years worth of meticulous processing and work it only came out to 30 pages. Thus is the creative process. Note to self: spend less time editing and more time writing.

5) I do not feel like writing today. It could be the coffee i had this morning was too weak, or that I no longer resemble a beat poet.

6) yeah. Its just a day with nothing to say. That will change come christmas. Once I find some magical way to make my shoulders less tense.

we'll see. I need to get on the road again soon.



I will never get over the fact that I missed lifehouse in Vancouver.

walk on home

I'm sitting beside the big window at my school, the one that faces the parking lot where the boys dorms used to be. and i'm sitting beside an empty cup with a spoon, where ice cream used to be. i want some more ice cream.

and i want a silent retreat. a lot. abbotsford is much different that nanaimo, in that there are no places to escape... no random secluded forests, no waterfalls or lakes or oceans. its not hard to feel really disconnected in this town.

I think if you spend too much time inside it will become too familiar, and thus stop giving you the sense of comfort and safety that it used to. its one of those annoying little life lessons college is teaching me, thus the search for a place to call home continues.

next week I'm flying to the united nations in new york, to talk about environmental issues.then the very next week i'm putting on a poetry show, planning a concert, and trying to get my mom to cater a dinner at my school. what a life.

I'm really worried about this trip, i won't lie. well, I'm not so worried about the travel itself, as much as I am worried about the dress code: "business casual".

I don't have a single pair of pants that fits that description. (pants have made my life stressful yet again). So i'm going to go down to value village to buy some, just to spite the term "business".

my life will never be centered around the concept of "being busy". screw that.

tonight, i'm getting a case to share with my friends, and i'm going to reflect on my perpetual singleness. mmm. i love a good case. and i (kind of) love being single, as being single gives me the license to take stupid adventures and write pointless journals.

in other news, something has to change. my life, as it is now, feels disconnected, and insincere. i need some escape to a quiet place, very soon.

i heart literature

I've been meaning to sit down and write a decent article, worth submitting to someone.

But, its been mostly being too busy with the small details in life- the cashing of cheques, buying of food, and e-mailing contacts for the arts and peace festival (Nov 7-9. you should go). I'm trying to finish East of Eden, and i'm at the part of the book where every detail of every character begins to drive the story, and realize the difficult themes that come with mr. Steinbeck's writing.

from what i can gather, from my years of reading john Steinbeck, the most interesting and compelling characters are also the most broken. the depth of character comes from unmet expectations, and unrealized dreams. Its kind of an grim outlook on life- realize the despair of the human condition, and fail miserable time and again at trying to find redemption in that.

I'm sure there are other, less complicated, ways to express how Steinbeck's characters are formed, in relation to his view of the world. maybe later. with less commas.

I was thinking about reaching down to pick up the said book, to try and find a good excerpt, but its nowhere near the orange camp chair, outside on my back deck. ok. i'll go find it...

..."It was a deluge of winter in the Salina Valley, wet and wonderful. The rains fell gently and soaked in and did not freshet. The feed was deep in January, and in February the hills were fat with grass and the coats of the cattle looked tight and sleek. In March the soft rains continued, and each storm waited courteously until its predecessor sank beneath the ground. Then warmth flooded the valley and the earth burst into bloom-yellow blue and gold."

-east of eden, chapter 25. there are much better excerpts than this... i just couldn't find them.
.
I've been meaning to read some Anne Lamott for a heck of a long time. I was walking along one of the library shelves today, trying to waste the last ten minutes of work, and i came across "Travelling Mercies", nesteled between lesser books of dry prose. So i read the first short paragraph, and i was sold -

"My coming to faith did not start with a leap but rather a series of staggers from what seemed like one safe place to another. Like lily pads, round and green, these places summoned and then held me up while I grew. Each prepared me for the next leaf on which I would land, and in this way I moved across the swamp of doubt and fear. When I look back at some of these early resting places--the boisterous home of the Catholics, the soft armchair of the Christian Science mom, adoption by ardent Jews--I can see how flimsy and indirect a path they made. Yet each step brought me closer to the verdant pad of faith on which I somehow stay afloat today."

If anyone is considering purchasing a late-birthday gift for me, i think this would be a good choice.

I think that, to re-write the cliche', you are what you read. and what i tend to read is anything but dry- prose that comes out as reflections upon life, from a perspective of a imaginative heart. not that i'm trying to toot my own metaphorical horn or anyhting.

which, actually, leads to a good point. I was listening to an interview of Anne Lamont on the best ever podcast called "the brown sessions" (I insist you download it now! the allure? interviews with Donald Miller, Renee Altson, and Shane Claiborne). In this interview she mentioned how "sometimes writers try too hard to be a writer". and thats me, i'll be quite honest. for the past couple days i picture myself sitting here, outside, writing anything with a pot of coffee sitting beside me.

in other words, i intentionally try and build a mood for myself, so that i can write something good. or, something that i think others will perceive as good. i'll look back on these writings and realize how much of what i do, how i write, is dependent on who i read. if i read sad novels i will write sadly. if i read Anne Lamott, i will probably write very reflectively.

this is the beauty of literature. it reveals a part of yourself that would have otherwise gone unnoticed. when i read the reflective prose style writers i picture myself feeling the same things they have, thinking the same insights they have. the difference is that i don't have words for them. the grace of literature is that for every word we can't picture, someone else will be there to draw it for us (someday i'll thank Anne Lamott, and Madeline L'Engle for this).

So, thats my thought for the day. i'm not sure if any magazine would accept this random string of reflections. they might just send it back, saying "you do not seem to have one distinct discernible thought, or solid idea". so... i'll have to work on that.

(my head is spinning because i am dehydrated, and drinking coffee. boo me).

-Adam
(forgive my use of lower casing. its not intentional at all).

22

besides being completely emo on Sunday nights, I've been writing lots... or at least, trying to. my new laptop, that i picked up from my roommate, allows me to sit on my back deck, with a pot of green tea, listening to the wind in the trees. which is much better than sitting in my dark little room, feeling like *something derogatory*. ahhhh.

I read an article in Geez today, whilst sitting in a closed library on my break, and i read that "North Americans spend 90% of their time inside". and that struck me. i wonder if thats what drives my evenings of feeling sad- being alone at home for hours, not listening to Relient K (i'm never sad when i'm listening to Relient K).

hm. just a thought.

~

And lately, the weather has been so bi-polar
And consequently, so have I.

But now I'm sunny with a high of 75,
Since You took my heavy heart, and made it light.
And it's funny how you find you enjoy your life,
When you're happy to be alive

-Relient K

for the writer / some place with strength

you're hands hold writing block in one,
and a sense of loss in the other.
in you're heart, the constant fear of failing,
not being good enough to love.

and you try.

you're feet walk empty roads, and ocean banks,
only one set of footprints.
in you're hands, the summer air
not enough to fill this place.

you try.

you're mornings waking up with music,
sip tea waiting for good weather.
you're hands hold old paper, quill pens in the other,
trying to find someplace to write.

------------

it feels a lot like
that kind of day.
give me a reason to run
somewhere with water.
or somewhere quiet, a monestary.
give me a reason.

i'm not much
of a poet today.
not much of a wordsmith
or writer of prose.
i'm not much built for
these sorts of days.
even so, i've done alright.

it feels much like,
those days of longing
to write beside a brook.
to be somewhere else,
with no real reason, i suppose.
some place with strength.
or somewhere with the sound of running water.

why the fear

i used to be sick of living with people.
well, i guess i still am.
but i can't live alone,
and i can't lie awake,
i guess i'm still the same.

the days used to have this mystery
and i could taste it in everything
the lightest rain,
the water glass.
God, why the constant losing faith?
why the fear of praying anymore?

i used to love writing, time with you,
but today, nothing is the same,
the constant lows,
i don't feel like it,
i guess i'm still the same.

i hurt myself today

Andrew: You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your shit that idea of home is gone.

Sam: I still feel at home in my house.

Andrew: You'll see when you move out. Just sort of happens one day and it's just gone. And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know? You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself. For your kids, for the family you start. It's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it...

...Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.

-garden state

--------------------------------------------------------

i came to a conclusion today. i realized that if i try and do any of the things that i feel are ethical, if i try and live out my convictions, alone, nothing will change. i will keep buying my soy products, buying my locally produced commodities, thinking about poverty and justice and nothing will really change. eventually i will get bored of my convictions, and leave them behind, and worry about other things, like going on dates or watching movies, or buying music.

... if i try and do it alone. if I'm in a group of friends who feel the same way, and who want to walk with me on the difficult road i choose, than that road will be easier to walk. this is what the church should be. we should be people that care for each other, and care about trying to love people, trying to understand the humanity we all share. trying to understand the issues that our world faces, and the reason they exist. justice is asking the "why", then the "how". why does injustice exist, and how can we reason with it.

this is what we are all missing in life. belonging.

home is

i was sitting on a camp chair, beside my school's cafeteria, facing the empty fountain, when i was asked to apply for a youth ministry job in september. one more thing to think about.

bible college is full of new experiences, things one would never experience anywhere else. well, something new has hit me today. that i'm not going home. i'm not leaving for nanaimo, like i have for the past three years. i'm staying here.

things will change. i'm still looking for "home".

the science of rocks and hard places

I feel for the lady
In the crimson light
With demand on the left
And judgment on the right
Where the lonely ones
Are the most unloved I feel

-ron sexsmith, for the driver

my life is in a suspended state of animation, i might say, if i was a fan of science ficton.

in the same week i did a talk on "self worth", wrote a paper about "divine abandonement", did lights for a play about a broken family, and read most of "to own a dragon"- donald miller's reflections on growing up without a father.

its been way too much to process all at once. the phrase that is making itself most pronounced is "our relationships with our dads can sometimes be projected onto God". i'm not sure what to do with that.

i'm searching for a direction to go with my thoughts. i feel like i dug myself a bit deep. my creativity is taking a bit of a beating. and the fact that every corner of my house is litttered with clutter makes everything all the more joyful. until a certain someone moves out.

so, thats me. stuck between a rock and hard place, until late april. i've taken too much weight on my shoulders, this week.

three places / alone

a spring break journal. wednesday 11:21 am

In the morning in the winter shade
On the first of March on the holiday
I thought I saw you breathing
-sufjan stevens

almost hit by a car today,
thought it was turning but it went straight.
driver looked frustrated, didn't care.
almost broke down right there.

lost control this morning,
waking up wasn't all that fun.
can't clear my thoughts enough for comfort,
almost broke down there.

the things i fight for to find rest,
only leave me lonely.
face looked empty in the mirror,
almost broke down right there.

the absence of roommates is not as good as i thought it would be, i say to myself sitting in my lving room, behind my cluttered coffee table and blank TV. i have learned a difficult lesson today- that i need my roommates to balance out my life. without them, it is quiet all the time. solitude turns into loneliness without community.

so, i've, officially, felt very lonely in the past three days. my goals of doing homework have changed into listening to hours of music, drinking pots of tea, cooking pastas and chilis with friends, and watching somber oscar-nominated movies. (the queen, flags of our fathers).

its very poetic, and shakespearean. i have exactly what i wanted- time alone. anyway, i don't feel like telling stories, so i'll tell you the rest of my daily update like this;

gave blood for the first time yesterday,
right arm was too tense, so they tried the left,.
felt lightheaded after, so they made me lie down.
almost laughed. it seemed funny to me.

had a dream about my dad,
yelled at my roommate in it,
felt good to finally say some things,
i'll say them someday, when life is less extreme.

life if too profound today.
bring me back to the daily life,
before i lose my place.

-adam

and home is where you break me

a spring break journal. Sunday, 11:13 pm

a) i have, in the past two days, grown a profound love, and longing, for a place to call home. i'm glad i'm not traveling profusely right now, but that i'm settling down, doing what i love- processing life.

though, processing life is not easy without the distraction of caffeinated beverages. this lent thing is making me a very humble man.

b) i'm a far cry from being in control of my life. in terms of finances, feelings, priorities, and just stuff i worry about in general. being at home requires that i deal with life.

this entry, i must tell you, is a precursor to a much longer, more descriptive entry about my three day walking adventure in vancouver... which may or may not be written someday.

image of the day, given a cliche' name- "empty"

... God only knows. part 1

random thoughts, most of which have no point.

i was walking on ice today, from my house to the school, to drop off garbage, and other such things. when i wasn't in the snow it seemed appropropriate to stay inside, in the warmth of my house, the temperature a little chilly even there. and being inside, as always, i'm unsure what to do with myself. to assign myself to disciplines, spiritual or otherwise... or to waste away the time eating cheap food, coffee, pigging out on whatever i could find in my fridge- eating for the sake of eating.

theres a music channel i listen to on my TV. its called spa. when i listen to it time moves slowly. all the hundreds of errands of the day are simplified. all i'm left with is the slow- the echo white keys and silver strings. the peace is almost unbearable. i think i need to be doing something, filling my free time with readings or writings, journaling or whatever else.

i'm never sure what to do with myself. when i'm given the chance to rest my thoughts, at home by myself or in chapel, i find that i can't relax. my thoughts are consumed with all the things i have to get done after chapel, making rest impossible. so, i always feel awkward when i come before God. i'm offered a chance to meet with my creator, but i can't sit still long enough to receive some kind of comfort- a rest to make my full days a little less... full.

i often feel like i'm filling time with things, trying to preserve the gift of time as much as possible before i lose it- before i'm sitting in my house at 11 pm looking back on my day, wishing i had spent my time a little wiser, wishing i could have accomplished more- wishing i had spent a couple more minutes taking deep breaths and relaxing my shoulders.

but thats life for a student. life is running around, never slowing down. every so often, in some kind of post-caffeine lull, i sit in my house running out my thoughts, hoping that at least one will sound meaningful.

and so, that said... i feel kind of empty. i feel that a lot. sometimes i think that i'm empty because i haven't allowed god to fill me up. i go into chapels trying to sing, having a kind of lack of confidence. i feel like i could be singing better, feeling ashamed because i can't give it my all... knowing i could be doing better.

it goes on like that. i spend more time talking about god than to god. i spend more time reflecting on my emptiness, never asking god to fill it. I spend more time wishing i could stand outside for a little longer, breathing the air, asking god to give me some answers. everything word i wish i could say... is never really said. i just settle on god always seeming quiet, always wonder why christ never talks to me... but i'm not sure how to listen. and it feels like i'm not worth feeling comfortable with my faith. honestly, i don't feel worthy of grace.

but, i am. i know, deep down, i'm worth something.

well, there are my late-night thoughts... i'm sure they will have changed soon.

like standing beside my bathroom window

outside the birds and traffic collided
in a sound
the air was kind of cold,
and fresh
it reminded me of home,
like standing beside my bathroom window,
every morning
taking in the waking air.
now everything seems to remind me of home,
every breath, every sense and sound.
every pink sky is a longing to run.

and every open window is kind of cold,
every doorway reminds me of you.
i can't help but let myself feel vain,
don't mind me. i'm just lost again.

it was grace that brought me there thus far,
and grace will lead me home.