maple syrup. the greatest vegan treat of them all.
I am going to a maple syrup festival this weekend with the lovely Jolene and a bunch of other girls. It's in Jolene's hometown, the metropolis of Elmira.

So, I'm scrambling around. Getting packed; throwing scarves and socks and soymilk into my bag at random. Watching me get ready to go anywhere is a spectator sport. I procrastinate. I can't find my shoes. I can't find my coat. I leave, and then yell "SHOOT" and run back into the house to emerge with an oreo. No kidding. This happens. It drives my friends crazy.

Jolene's mum (bless her heart) is going to cook me vegan things this weekend. I feel honoured. I'm also pretty sure if she emerges with an omelet and a honey cake with an exclamation of "They're vegan!" I will grin and say "Yup" and help myself.

That way! To the maple syrup woods!

Night Prayer
(from the Book of Common Prayer)

The God of peace grant us a quiet night and a perfect end.
Amen.

Our help is in the name of the Lord,
the maker of heaven and earth.

The angels of God guard us through the night,
and quiet the powers of darkness.

The Spirit of God be our guide,
to lead us to peace and to glory.

It is but lost labour that we haste to rise up early,
and so late take our rest, and eat the bread of anxiety.
For those beloved of God are given gifts
even while they sleep.

For the forgiveness of our sins and offences,
let us pray to the Lord.

(Silence)

Lord have mercy,
Christ have mercy,
Lord have mercy.

The Cult Stud.

Last night I went to class (but wait! there's more!)

*ahem* Last night I went to class and had a fantastic time. I like my cultural studies class. We're looking at hospitality as Canada's myth.
And then, right after telling everyone to go to Polyphony, three friends from class, Ross, Frank and Adil invited Rick and I to go out for a bottle of wine after class, to talk about hospitality and other things we'd talked about in class.

So we went to the Original Greek. We had a bottle of Bordeaux in honour of our prof, Jonathan Bordo. We drank to him first, then to cultural studies, then to hospitality. Then we ordered another bottle of wine. The whole time we talked about the texts we've been reading, and lectures and other good stuff that's happened throughout the course. We talked about what we liked, what we thought. We challenged each other on what we said.

Then we all went to Polyphony. I won a goldfish named ZsuZsa.

Then! We all went to Ricks house and told stories. I really like telling stories. I really like watching people smoke cigarettes.

So here's the deal. I think that last night was something like how I want university to always be like. All the time.

It's nice out. Go make some fiends

Oh gosh, your pet ate my pet.

I just pulled Cat out of Opus's cage. I looked over from my bed and there was Cat, spinning around inside trying to catch Opus. I yelled "CAT!" and she looked at me and hopped out. Now I need to put Opus in therapy.

In other mouse-related news, Opus is sick. I am sad. If he dies, I am going to find two rocks and take them in as immortal pets.

Immortal pets!

Sunshine. Raw food.
Yesterday it felt like spring. As a result I felt like buying a pretty rawfoods cookbook, lovely fresh fruits and vegetables from the Garden Market and four pretty flowers from the flower store.

It's 9:00 am on Tuesday. I'm about to start another uncharacteristically busy day. But it's a good kind of busy. Full of hanging out with people I love.

Grace. I have a great love of Grace. It's getting something you don't deserve.
I don't deserve my life to be as beautiful as it is. I don't deserve the wonderful friends I have. I don't deserve to be blessed by God, but I am. I am. I am.
Thank you Christ.

Meaghan's busy day.

6:00 a.m. - hit alarm clock first time
6:30 - second time
6:45 -awakened by wake up call from my younger brother. Get up. Brush teeth. Throw on clean clothes and a toque
6:55 - brother knocks. Shoe search begins.
7:00- hit the road with parents and a coffee
7:30 - puck dropped at evinrude centre. Paige is in net, Austen is defense. Fantastic hockey.
8:10 -head to parents house in Ennismore eat breakfast of soymilk and fake bacon sandwiches. Hit the road a half hour later.
10:00 - puck dropped in Douro. Travis's team won Tourney Champs in their division.
11:20- Church.
noon - back at my place, rice is half cooked when Dad shows up to drive us back to Ennismore.
2:00 p.m. - playing with cousins. COOOOUUUUSINS
5:00 - hit the road again, show my aunt my new apartment.
6:00 - Puck dropped at Keene arena. Travis got bumped into the Peewee team (two years older than him!) to play for their championship. Travis got a goal. Trophy secured.
7:30 - Back in Peterborough. I enter Dahn and Dans place and enter a new universe. D&D suckas. We killed the Ogre good.
12:00 - back at my place. Des is home. We chat. Then opt to watch Gilmour girls for three hours.
3:40- I am, therefore I blog. I am going to pray and fall on my bed and not open my eyes again until some point pushing tomorrow afternoon.

edit - 3:50... tea with Des before bed. Theeeeeeen prayer and sleep. Good. Glad we got that straight.

*ahem* to the Blogosphere!

radio. like you like it.Hey look! You can have both!

Tonight's show is me reading some childrens poems. I'll mainly be reading from Shel Silverstein and this hundred year old book of childrens verse that Des the roommate found. Songs will come from everyones favourite Singing Nun.

Tonight's show is called Dreamers and Liars.
Listen at six. 92.7 fm. Catch the streaming if you're computer bound.

I skipped a day. so I'm giving you links... so you'll love me back.
Man, I never go a day without posting. I spent last night at the parents house hanging out with them, my brother, my roommate, plus my aunt and uncle and three little cousins who are up here for a hockey tournament. I've been to two hockey games already this morning, with two more coming up this afternoon. My cousins are great kids. I haven't seen them in over a year. Cheers to Uncle Terry, Aunt Sam, Travis, Austen and Paige!

And now, (here's where I redden with shame) I'm going to watch Gilmour girls. With Desiree. She started it. I blame her. Yes. I abdicate responsibility for this newfound addiction. Hey! I can stop whenever I want....


p.s.

let's do links. photo links.

Ash Nayler. I fall in love with these images. And when I am rich I will hire her to take pictures of whatever she likes, and sell them to me... at exorbitant prices.

Des the Roommate. I am so happy that I am surrounded by creative, artistic humans. Des takes pictures of ordinary things and renders them more lovely than I thought possible.

Dahn and Dan. This is a beautiful image of two of the most beautiful men that I know.

Latte Art. Fantastic latte photography. Words do not express quite how much I love latte art. The precision, the craft... the joy of watching people drink what you've made.

going out to play.
I have a mission. The mission is to clean my room and my kitchen... and buy flowers. Maybe daffodils. I also wish to buy fresh food, as I have been living off energy drinks and bad caf food all week.

a list! (as lists are so fun to post)

- to purchase -
- real chocolate
- flour, yeast, margarine
-pretty daffodils
-soymilk
-fresh fruits and veggies.
- brown bread with seeds.

- to do -
- play d&d tonight. Elf ranger gonna kill gobbo's ...
- hang out with my fabulous roommate. we are going outside to play now
- finish my politics readings
- clean my room and my kitchen

-to be -
- meag culkeen
- a child of God


much love to all of you, get some sunshine eh?

the red bicycle rides again.
I am finished my papers. Let's never speak of them again okay? Okay.

I had a productive evening eating vegan boloney sandwiches at Rick and Thom's. I also went to class and won prof Bordo's favour. I'd talk anyway, but I like it when I can present my thoughts intelligibly enough to get the nod. Tonight I get to sleep and not dream of being late, or of going to the library.

Yesterday I was at Black Honey at a poetry open mic called March of the Poets. I went with Syd, who is a lovely soul. I ended up closing the show with a word art experiment that I liked because it was confrontational, and timed. I had an egg timer and I was making up a poem called 'Transience" with themes of time, nostalgia and homesickness. The rules were that I had to finish with the hourglass, and at any point in the poem I could point at someone in the room and they'd have to say a word or a phrase that came to their mind, and I would have to use it as a jumping off point and incorporate it the next section of the poem.
It turned out great. I really liked the fact that everyone had to be engaged and thinking because I was just pointing at people at random. In addition to that their was an element of participation in the word art which isn't present at most poetry readings, we created together on the spot. Plus I had the pressure of needing to be concise (as well as poetic!) in my narrative, with this little hourglass in my left hand.

Definitely something I want to play with more.

I think tonight I am going to write a song. I'm thinking about some beautiful things that I'd rather express in a song than anywhere else. It's just starting to be warm enough to start writing blues again.
Then I am going to go to sleep with my shoes on.

FYI

I just had to post.

I spent fifteen hours at the library today. I was there from open until close. Fifteen hours.
Yesterday I was there for ten, the day before, for five.
One essay down, one to go. Thank you Desiree, Dahn, Dan, Rick and Jolene, who all provided me with human contact throughout the course of the day.

Grrrrreat. I'm back at that damn library at eight tomorrow morning. I need to finish this last essay tomorrow. Then I will be free. I will be happy. I will be an elf ranger... because they kill goblins and don't have to write essays.

Goodnight friends. Here's to tomorrow.

it wasn't exactly a sermon.

I talked at Thirdspace this morning. Mostly I felt like reading and thinking about God. So I did. I read the last ten pages or so from Life After God, by Douglas Coupland.
Here is his secret... it is mine too.


Now--here is my secret:
I tell it to you with the openness of heart that I doubt I shall ever achieve again, so I pray that you are in a quiet room as you hear these words. My secret is that I need God--that I am sick and can no longer make it alone. I need God to help me give, because I no longer seem to be capable of giving; to help me be kind, as I no longer seem capable of kindness; to help me love, as I seem beyond being able to love.



If I was in a confessional, this is what I'd whisper.
If I had a postcard, this is what I'd write on it.
If I was backed into a corner and had to be honest, I'd say this more often.

on the death of a mouse.

Twist just died in my hand. I cried.
Fucking mouse. I wasn't expecting to fall in love with this little thing and have him just go and die. I wasn't expecting my first sojourn into being responsible for an animal to go this way. I didn't want it to die. I was praying that this stupid little mouse would live and he didn't. I couldn't even care for a mouse properly.
Damn mouse. I hate that I couldn't fix it. I knew he was going to die this morning when I looked at him, so I showed Des and just held him until he did. I wanted to fix him and I couldn't. It's hardly fair that I should be responsible and helpless all at once. One or the other is big enough. Both isn't fair.
I hate that I'm sad. I only had him for two days for crying out loud. It feels somehow illegitimate that I should be sad. People's dogs and cats and rats die that they've had forever. They have a right to be sad. I don't think I do.
But I'm sad anyway and I can't turn it off and feel better by telling myself that it was just a baby mouse, like a hundred thousand other baby mouses. Because he wasn't, he was my baby mouse.

There you go. My first emo post.
To Twist: You tamed me in two days. Cheers.



I'm going to be late for church.

:: radio ::
awkward grammar appals a craftsman...

Saturday. Radio Day. You know you love it.

Tonight's show will be a reading from Eunoia, Christian Bok's book which I just picked up. I've done little bitty excerpts from Bok before. He edited an Avante Garde collection I have and was featured heavily in the Canadian contemporary show I did a couple of weeks back as you may recall. Listen. I've never read these poems in their entirety. They are some of the most incredible examples of word art I've ever experienced.
For crying out loud, listen.

6pm. 92.7 fm. Trent Radio. Or catch the streaming.

Yep. I'm excited. Now, back to the grind.

introducing... my pets!

Today I became the proud owner of two little baby mousies. May I introduce ::

Opus

and

Twist

Opus was the first name that occured to me. It refers to a musical work in four parts, it also means a good work or a great accomplishment. Twist is named after Oliver... I felt like something Dickensian for a wee mouse.

Right now they are sleeping in a glass tank (thanks dahn, and thanks little dan for bringing it and making a lid) and just chilling out after a busy day. Opus is smaller and likes to hide in socks. Twist is more outgoing with patchier fur and he likes to be handled. These little mice are honestly no longer than my thumb. Their ears are enormous.

These are actually the first pets I've ever had. I really like them a lot already.
A toast to my new little friends! Opus and Twist!

the procrastination machine is running out of juice.

I am sitting in the one and only Bata Library of Trent University. I need to start pretending like I'm a real student. I have found the sources. Now I just need to read twelve books and write a damn fine paper on them... soymilk anyone?

Let it be known that this library is filled with half crazed, over caffienated twenty somethings... desperate looking international students who look like they're going to cry and run onto the next plane OUT of this frigid land. Everyone is holding their mechanical pencils menacingly... with this "I'll stab you! This is MY stack of journals... MINE y'see? SEE?...(waves mechanical pencil)... SEE?!"

The world belongs to those that understand it...
Enough of this... I have am armed with a mechanical pencil... a savage looking one. I am going to the STACKS!

winter in march.
let it be known that I love the peterborough salvage yards...

Yesterday winter returned with a vengeance. I am annoyed. I was stoked for sunny spring loveliness. But nooooo, we got enough snow last night to shut down the city bus lines for awhile there. And now it's windier than a Pantene commercial outside.

It's Polyphony tonight and it's going to be fun. Polyphony is the cultural studies party at Sadlier house, and if you're local you should come tonight at nine-ish to Sadlier House. Because it's a really good time, with dancing and poetry and beer and professors. It's especially good now that it's winter in March.

And with that dear readers, I'm heading to the laundromat, for three hours of dryer sounds and listening to the Wolf. Oh classic rock and hair metal... what would I do without you?

free.

For some bizarre reason today I started weeping on the city bus. No one saw. This is a good thing. Tears are something I reserve for the eyes of close friends only. Plus, inexplicable weeping is frowned upon in public transit circles.

The bus was packed and I was thinking about this old southern gospel song and alternating between looking out at geese and looking in at all the people wedged onto the bus. For some reason it was overwhelming to think that everyone on that bus was here on purpose. That we are all created, wonderfully made. I was thinking that geese would not exist if God hadn't said that geese were worth the effort.

that's it.

rainy morning.
It's eight thirty and I'm about to head out my door to go to a meeting... maybe. I honestly can't remember whether I said that it was on Monday or Tuesday, so now I am obliged to go both days because I hate the very thought of standing someone up. I woke up long and ever before my alarm this morning because the sound of rain against my window woke me up. It's a good sound, really.

Today I write a paper. Go to class. Hand in my paper late and go to another class. I also desperately have to do laundry. It seems there always has to be a 'desperately' tagged on to when I have to do laundry. I never just sort of have to do laundry. If it's not desperate, I don't have to do it. Bloody laundry.

Okay. If the meeting is indeed today, I am late. Out, into the rain I venture.

us? we killed the radio edit.
Saturday. It's poetry day. Tonight's show is going to be loud. To hell with decorum.

I want to hear you scream for avante garde and pull your own hair out from the beauty of it all. I want to punch you in the face with it and have you get up and ask for a kick to the teeth.

This is not my piano jazz poetry night.
I love poetry. It moves me. It makes me cry. More importantly it makes me want to write. It forces me to understand and then subsequently to try to create. It makes me want to do something, piano jazz or no. And tonight I'm going to do my damnedest to either make you feel it or make you shut your radio off.
See if I care.

Tonight's show is called "not so fast"
92.7 fm. 6:00 pm.

black lollipops
On Thursday for the most part I pretended that I didn't know a soul, hid from everyone and went downtown without a coat on.

It suprises me sometimes, how much I love solitude. It reminds me of when I was on hikes last year and forgot to drink, until I remembered and with one sip realized how thirsty I really was.

I ended up going to all my favourite places where I used to hide when I was in highschool. My favourite stairwells. The roofs of buildings. I hid in my favourite used bookstore for two hours and made friends with the owner.

Later on, I bought a beer and was given a black hard candy with the bill. There was this stage in highschool when I always had a black lollipop in my mouth. The epitome of a goth accessory I guess. It was night by this point and I was rolling this hard candy in my mouth and clambering up a wall to get to my favourite place to read. I haven't really gone there since I got back from B.C. From this spot you can see all of the city. All I could taste was black licorice and I felt like I did when I was fifteen or so, and I could feel small without trying to.

Then it hit me, that I have become so sick of nostalgia.


All the time I hear from people my age, about how they wish they could be like they were last year/when they were seven/when they were in highschool/whenever.

I can't entertain these thoughts. I will be as I am now, not as I was. And God help me, I will be better tomorrow. Or at least I'll be different. But I'll aim for an unknown future rather than throw back to a romanticized past.
I wax Kerouac-like on my life thusfar, but for shitsakes I'm twenty. There's more to it than this.

After that I sat on the wet brick and prayed like I haven't before. Ever prayed with ferocity?
It was like every fibre of my being was focused into my words, my heart, the dirty knees of my jeans. I bit down on the black candy, and spat it out.

friday at the radio.

everyone listen to Trent Radio 92.7 fm. All day, all the time.

But especially today because it's live music day. I'm playing at 11:30 and I'm about to head down for some poetry banter for an hour with Laurel. Early morning banter... seriously not what would be my first course of action, but it's pretty fantastic. Laurel wakes me up. She's like... a ball of pent up energy in a powersuit waiting for a cup of coffee and a microphone.

today I write songs. and play D&D
Thursday dawned. And I fought the dawn. I was supposed to be out and back already this morning but I ended up not going anywhere. So, I am taking this one step at a time. I am hungry. I am going to eat some leftover rice.

... five minutes later, rice is consumed. Hunger satiated. Still vegan, for those of you laying bets.

Today I feel like making a list. Here is my list.

Today.
-need to start research for big imposing papers due monday
-have a meeting in an hour
-want to finish a song I've been working on
-need to name my D&D character. And play!
-going to a movie at 379. Education! You come too!
- start on some spinny garden sculptures
- going to... drink coffee and read for politics
-bake something?

Okay. Well, that is my list. I really do like lists. Happy Thursday

all my classes and a hockey game.
Today was my Dad's birthday. I celebrated by eating white people food.

I got a near frantic phone call from my dear mother this morning saying
"Meaghan, I'm making roast beef for your father tonight. What can I make for you?"
"I dunno Mum, you've got veggies to go with right? I can just eat those."
"Yes, I can make your mashed potatoes with soymilk, your broccoli without cheese, and your carrots and corn and squash with margarine. But oh! You have no main course!"
"Well, I have the vegetables..."
"But the main course, Meaghan... and what about cake...?"

Eventually we decided that she'd make me some veggie burgers for me to eat with my vegetables. And I'd purchase a vegan brownie at the Planet for dessert. I forgot to bring the brownie, and mom was so perturbed at the thought of me being left out at dessert that she just kept refilling my wine glass during cake time. I ended up half soused.

I never get to eat white people food, like mashed potatoes. It just doesnt make a lot of sense when you're eating vegan to make a meat and potatoes kind of meal without the meat. Still, mom's cooking is good cooking. And she's a sweetheart for fussing over me so.

I followed the white people food by going to my brothers last game ofthe season. They won, the little rinkrats, and I nearly screamed out half my internal organs in the process. Mashed potatoes and rink coffee all in one day? I might need to go spray some patchouli oil to avert an identity crisis...

je joue la guitare.

My headphones have been overtaken by Jean Leloup. Shannon got me a late birthday present of a collection of Leloup's recordings (some rare ones!) and music videos. I am immersed in a world of franco-rock ecstasy.

I left for the radio station on Saturday afternoon and didn't get home till eleven o'clock on sunday night. I ended up staying at Rick's house and then going to the Thirdspace the next morning. After that point I hung out with my sister and Rick, then went to my dad's fiddle concert at the Market Hall. It was a lot of fun, in a fiddle concert kind of way.
Then it was to my parents house for vegan eats, and then to James Kirklands house for a dessert party with a bunch of Thirdspace people. It was pretty darn fantastic. I ate oreos, fruit, nature-gummies, fair trade coffee and soy-smoothies! I love being an included vegan.

The bunch of us sat in the attic and grabbed a guitar and had a three-hour nineties singalong. I mean really, who can resist singing along to songs from the nineties?

Then we walked home along the path as a convoy and recited our favourite parts of The Holy Grail... and whenever somebody reached their doorstep we had do make an elaborate goodbye, such as:

- Fairwell sweet Syd! Member of our convoy! Comrade and Friend! Safety to you on this Night!
-Fairwell sweet Jordan, you will not have been mortally wounded in vain!

This is what happens when too much dessert is eaten.

Radio. I mean really, it's Radio.


Saturday, you know what that means...

Poetry on the radio!
Tonight's show is called Stairwells. I'll be reading from a journal called "Lyre" that Capilano college in North Vancouver puts out. Back in my first or second show I read a couple from here, and since then I've read the whole book and it's a frigging fantastic example of lesser known contemporary Canadian poetry.

The great part about these poems is that they are quite accessible, many are story-driven so they'll be great on the radio. Listen tonight at 6pm, 92.7 fm. Or catch the streaming.

This is contemporary stuff, so there will be some mature themes and content explored. As always, take courage. Take poetry with an open heart.

Going for the Artery.
Well, tonight is make-forty-bucks-modeling at The Artery night. I am excited, for this day comes but every once in a while.

In preparation I am showering, listening to my hipster roommate & co squawk excitedly about Metric, and I am eating soynut-butter sandwiches. I would rather not be working tonight. I'm tired as all get out, but you can't exactly call in "tired" can you?

Today I wrote and passed in my late politics paper. It was only slightly late, but it (among other things) weighed on me heavily enough to make me have constant nightmares for the past three nights. I have dreamed :

- That I have been in a job interview and forgot to wear shoes
- at another job interview and forgot how to speak english
- that I was on a tightrope walking over a crevasse carrying a crate full of essays that obscured my vision, with a snake yelling at me to hand them in on time
- that I was being yelled at for being a lesbian by an angry mob, and couldn't get a word in edgewise to say that I'm actually straight.
- that I showed up to Trent Radio for radio art day, and thought it was folk art day and brought pictures of squirrels and chickadees instead.
- that I showed up to Trent radio for radio art day with songs that were too pretty, and got yelled at
- that my room was a mess that could never be cleaned up, no matter how hard I tried
- that I fell into my closet and inside was a portal to the World of Warcraft, where I was chased by a dragon.

This is quite honestly just a start. And in ALL these dreams I have the feeling that I am late. Honestly, thank God this paper is in. I don't have another to write till next week.

On with the arts!