I need to start this caboose back up!

You ever get that feel where all you want to do is just…run away for a bit, catch up on listening to music, making things, sleeping, and just sort of…talking to yourself? I’ve been too busy lately. I feel like I’m not really up to speed with myself, if that makes sense. But anyways, updates:

Working at Starbucks is like drinking the proverbial cup of cult-ish corporate blood, but is fun if you tune out the “Starbucks is God” mantra. I don’t get bothered by the Armageddon of students slavering at the thought of sugar-jacked espresso and milk, because it doesn’t matter. They’ll get their drinks, eventually, and I’ll go home, eventually, and then I’ll get to sleep, or procrastinate from homework, or whatever. It’s all chill, man. Anyways. That’s that.

Writing class: I honestly thought I’d be putting everything I wrote up here, because it’s loads better than what I usually post, but after getting critiques from classmates and teachers all I want to do is rework it over and over again until it’s perfect before I let it see the light of the internet. So hence the poetry dry spell. It’s good, though–the class, I mean. Makes me feel like I’ve found my people, yo.

A quick shout-out to the Peak Performance Project artists: you should check them all out HERE. I voted for Good for Grapes, but it was a tough go between them, Hannah Epperson, Van Damsel, Luca Fogale…man, there’s just some really stellar music coming out of this thing this year, and you should go immerse yourself in it (totally too late to vote now, I’m sorry, but on Tuesday they’re announcing the top 5 bands! This is exciting stuff).

One more thing: I’ve been semi-dared to do a series on flirting and seduction for NaBloPoMo (National Blog Post Month, where one posts every day—oh god) by the super-suave Scott over at In Spite of That, with the assurance that he’s going to do a series on trying one new hobby each day in November (and blogging about it). I’ve already failed one day, but I will post TWICE today to make up for it.

Last thing: I love you all, you beautiful blogger people you.

bittersweet

It’s all bittersweet
The taste of hellish burning madness
With a hint of honey.
A honeyed smile masking the devil’s grin.
Walk with me a while, he said with
Crooked eyebrows, slanted smile.
I kicked my legs high, and I followed.
We walked a while.

© Emily Bragg 2013

I Seek to Stumble

Bramble switches lay quiet
waiting
waiting for unwary feet running haphazardly
prick
stab
tumble
blood on my new stockings.

Yesterday, only yesterday I
washed them and now
rust stains and

tiny tears
rolling down my cheeks.
The meadow looked so green,
how was I to know?

Perhaps my feet picked the thorns
not unaware at all, 
but subconscious
toes seeking stocking revenge. 

© Emily Bragg 2013

nighttime mindwanders

there’s a time in cool hours of dark
where time doesn’t stop, but suspends
oil in water, hovering
and the mind takes a quiet walk across the lawn
never stopping, ever padding ever so
quiet
whispering technicolour switchback stories
gathering a handful of violets, a nest
of infant shale birds
quiet
as the stars hide coy behind flared
cirrostratus geisha fans
eyes twinkling
and the soft-furred rabbits skitter across moon-drenched grass.

© Emily Bragg 2013

Drowning in Drafts and Gluten-Free Research

I wish I meant beer. I don’t mean beer. My drafts folder has so many partially finished pieces of writing (like, actually creative writing, not just mind-vomit) that it’s ridiculous. I just haven’t had time to sit down with them and hammer out exactly who they are quite yet.

Surprisingly enough, though, not solely because of school, but because I’ve been spearheading this event in my community featuring a bunch of local bands from the Vancouver area. It’s been a blast, I’ve gotten to design posters and research gluten-free and vegan baking recipes (some members of the band and audience require eatables that won’t make them break their diet) and talk to the bands which is really cool. Granted, I knew most of them by association or face-to-face, but it has still been a ridiculously cool experience meeting lots of cool people.

Right now, though, it’s the baking that’s got me antsy. I want to start on it tomorrow night (the thing’s on Saturday) but I don’t even have a solid idea of what I’m making yet. I’m thinking gluten-free blueberry banana loaf, possibly wacky cake (I nearly fell over when I heard this; what do you mean there’s a cake called wacky cake), and gluten-free gingersnaps. Plus, le boyfriendo is coming over for a baking spree Friday evening (he’s such a doll), so maybe we’ll throw some normal cookies in there. OH I COULD MAKE GUITAR-SHAPED SUGAR COOKIES AGHHGHGHGHHH

There comes a point where I have to give my head a shake and go “NO EMILY. YOU ARE HUMAN. NOT BAKEWOMAN.” The vegan anti-gluten stuff’ll be hard enough. Anyone know a good recipe for coconut milk icing? I had a TA first semester at uni who was, like me, lactose intolerant, and baked for her class. The golden age. Her coconut milk icing was freaking delicious. Maybe I’ll shoot her an email.

Oh, and while I’m on the topic: have some related-to-blog-post YouTube. This’ll tickle all you Les Mis aficionados out there.

© Emily Bragg 2013

Falling

I’m looking out the window and it’s raining
And I’m wishing I was out there with you
With life running down our cheeks;
Happiness increasing with each drop tracing across
And under our skin, setting our eyes afire with the knowledge
That I’ll never tire of your touch.

I want to stand on your toes, and step where you step
I want to arrange a time and place for your lips to meet mine
Over coffee, and maybe after they could take a walk.
I want to know you behind your smile.

I want to throw myself across the space between us and hold you,
Like there’s a time limit for the idea of us
But we’re slowing down the clock so that each second
Seems like an hour.

And every hour I spend with you is like
An injection of peace
And every second I spend away from you
Is like a lease, like a debt I can’t repay, like time is a bank vault
Locking each moment of aching loneliness away.

And I know sometimes I get worried,
Worried that I’ve said too much and you’ll start avoiding me
Worried that I’ve drowned your affection in my own;
Too late for resuscitation or a loan of
Breath from my lungs.

But it’s a transient state of disquiet that evaporates
Like the steam on the bathroom mirror in which I traced the words
‘I love you’.
We might end. But I hope to skies of spirits
That it isn’t soon.

Because this ancient emotion feels like a revelation,
And I’m reevaluating my diction into the words that lovers use.

And this sensation confuses me, because I’m not used to
This carved out hole in the side of me
That marks your absence;
I’m not accustomed to finding want in solitude;
But I could exist with you for days and days and find myself missing you
If you left for an hour.

And this overpowering awareness of the space where you could be
Is like trying to ignore an addiction, it’s a contradiction
To all that’s glorious and free.

Over time, I’ve learned cynicism to be the best ism to follow when falling in love,
But my surety is slowly eroding away, the cracks filled by fidelity
And the solemnity of ascending to something higher
And sweeter than anything I would have ever known to dream of
Before you.

I want to thank you
For making me feel like a live wire cut from a telephone pole when you’re around me,
For making each brush of your lips a story,
For making each page of each story full of suspense, without
Common sense or inhibitions,
Without definition of boundaries or conditions
Each intermission filled with reverence
And only the position of hands on the clock can bring us back to reality.

There are times when I wish I could plot each point
Charting a voyage from your thoughts to mine
Running a ruler across a map of cerebral connections
Just to find out what you’re thinking.

But I know that silence can be beautiful,
Because silence with you is often unusual,
Crystalline in its perfection
Every moment a reflection of quieted passion rippling from our bodies,
Breathing in harmony with understanding
Falling in tandem into something deeper than expected.

And I know alone is okay,
But somehow alone is just an echo
Of being with you.

I wrote this ages ago, during the first few months of my now-almost-two-year relationship with my love. Everything was such an incredible revelation, I can still conjure up the intense feelings that I tried so hard to put into words. This is meant to be spoken; whisper it to yourself. If you have this, rejoice. If you don’t, wait; it will come to you.

© Emily Bragg 2013