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midnight_wanderings
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pete
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often, tired and awake, night slips into me and drives me deeper to her heart before she lets me collapse into bed. calmly she whispers that the night doesn't end when work does, even if work ends in the deepest hours.
the cold air streaming around me as i speed down the trail watching the reflected stars in that most calm canal elevates night to the house of miracles. i always wait to hear voices i've not heard in a year, in years, lifting from the midnight mists as the lake passes me by.
every so often a heron stands of quickly, looks off into the distance and takes flight. moving not because of a lack of food, but because night has taken him into her heart, letting him breath the pure dreams his eyes can only imitate in waking life.
the moon hung behind the clouds, peaking between the loose covers with a companion star sitting just to her west. the pair followed me, watched me, until i finally turned from the canal, turned from the farm and headed down the road to my home, where the music is.
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050520
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()
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(!)
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050520
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no reason
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ooh
!
from moi aussi
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050520
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pete
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closing is always quickly followed by drinks, that goes without saying. the way of the industry is to keep your employees happy with cheap beer and free food. sadly, i must admit that it works. that free staff meal plus snacks as well as 30% of all drinks and food i order after work or on my days off really gets me. plus it saves on the grocery and beer store bills.
the work day ended around midnight tonight, a bit late for the cooking shift, a bit early for the dish washing shift. I was cooking, my replacement was washing so i stuck around drinking until he finished to solve any problems he might have. afterwards i went over to a near by "pub" (it's a pub every day but friday and saturday) with a former co-worker, who i replaced in the pit when he recieved his promotion 11 months ago.
we stood out in the patio near a heat lamp watching a myriad of people swarm by us, content in their drunken stupor. i was one with them, but uncomfortable around such masses. even the classic rock playing in the background was filled with the stress of dance music. i felt like wilting into nothing.
when we finally left for some air he dropped his bag off at his new place of employment, which conviently shares courtyard space with my restaraunt. i made a hasty retreat and hopped on my bike.
the canal was unusually busy for the 1.30am ride home. the stoners were out in great numbers, along with a few people getting their exercise at this ungodly hour. i sped past them, seaking only my bed (though i've yet to even sit on it since being at home).
i work at 6pm tomorrow, my second wendsday of three in this seven day work week. it's my last pit shift before i become a full time cook. cooking has become my art form since writing left me so many months ago. while the words still form, they lack the articulation they once had.
the dove cries while the phoenix forges her soul into new forms.
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050520
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l
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it's sad because it's at once entirely familiar and yet horribly foreign to me right at this moment.
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050522
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()
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(under doors, beyond endings, inside the universe)
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050524
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pete
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we are kids for a season,
the summer puts are youth on hiatus
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050525
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pete
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we are adults for a season,
the summer puts are youth on hiatus
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050525
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pete
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*pete tries a third time*
we are adults for a season,
the summer puts our youth on hiatus
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050525
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pete
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i used to be disturbed when i walked through the mall in the middle of the night; the depressing sounds of the cleaning staff shuffling down some unseen corridor of the three story structure mixed with the lack of music and visible life forms took a while to get used to. somehow it now seems normal, whether i am cutting through it to catch a bus or merely finding a cash machine that actually works.
after work i went out with a co-worker for a drink at a nearby pub. it was around midnight when we got there--being cooks that means an hour after getting off work--and not too crowded. tomorrow the place will be a zoo and i'll avoid it as best as i can. he grew up in the market, i'm from "small town ontario" as the sous chef put it once (she is from newfoundland, if that has any bearing on the matter). he knew most people who walked into the pub (we sat on the patio, he smokes), i knew no one. i know barely anyone in this city, and those i know have such opposite schedules of mine (i.e. get days off) that i never see them. this has taken the place of the midnight mall in terms of depressing experiences.
ont he bike home i almost ran over one man, turning around a blind corner in the market. along the canal i saw more people than usual.. meaning that i saw people. there was something about tonight that filled me with silent emotion. the aussie quit. i kissed my days off goodbye. the chef threw out his back. we started a new menu. at 11:11 i thought of her. there was a crazy hippy girl wandering the courtyard. i burnt my self many times, cut myself once, but never felt the pain. i was clumsy, yet nothing turned out poorly. i was complmented on my cooking, though only two weeks ago i was the dishwasher. i was nice enough to give the icelandic ambassador appetizers though i was closed for half an hour, waiting on the last desert orders of the night.
i don't know. my wanderings are a straight path. my mind is tangental, i never remember the thoughts, yet among them i truly believe. i truly breathe. and i touch the stars.
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050526
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pete
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i always look across the lake when i pass it, and then scan the sky looking for the moon and her companion star, then i look into the water, watching the ducks swim through the night and seeing the heavenly couple in their reflected glory wavering in their consistancy, trying to be free but not knowing what kind of freedom they seek, or what they truly are. one is undistinguished, distant, lost, lonely, and out reached hand flailing for comfort. the other is pot-marked, broken, and rarely out of the shadow of something greater, yet more destructive, than herself. and then the trail turns, leaving the lake behind, moving up a hill towards the locks, the farm, and home.
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050527
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pete
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i haven't done this in too long
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070326
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