verb: to flush + Future

to flush
Originally uploaded by fish2000.

(siginificance: i actually sat down to write my statement summing up why the funding commitee of Blank Scholarship should (PLEASE Take Me!) accept my application, and instead ended up producing this. Bodes well, i think.) To whom it may concern ;

My future will be concerned with 'challenging the System'. (cough. Cough. Cough.) if this sounds familliar its because this system of thought is sold regularly in most urban areas; yours for free after multiple hours of free labour and workshops. I would appreciate it if you would fund me so that i can figure out which project i should adopt for life.
(i do recognize that my highly '€˜academic'€™ theatre/social studies search will occur within The system of ivory and towers panneled with the most modern iv drip from dedicated corporate funds) I mean-- Your benevolent selves will be praised every third day of every third month in the time of the harvest of souls -€”also known as the "grad-school beg" Begining ”in the months of September/october with rhythmicly whispered suplications to administrative gods, culmuinating in the in the high pitched desperate creening of January and the sound of torn robes dragging on stone floors, as the procession crawls its way to drink, by turns, from the well of begrudging acceptance or disheartining defeat.
Always pick C.
C.
If i create a statement of « I should get your money » that creatively describes in crayon and Found Objects, how i can divide my tuition among many; effectively converting unused buildings into sustainable housing, and gardens as well ....(use your wit; mine failed, im desperate, c'€™est a toi.), how would you feel about giving me money to maybe perhaps perhcance commit to a program of higher education? Higher in this situation may refer to « off the wall » or « in the air ». I know my current references, who can now identify fruit of a certain kind : « BANANA !», will be more than happy to sing for your commercials promoting €˜'intercultural relationships€', increasing your popularity and thuse your earning potential in France. Alternatively i will shave your insignia into my hair. €”all of it. I will name my pets after you. You can see i have a lot to offer. There is also, i should mention, a chance in all this that your funding will actually lead to a fulfilling and progressive lifestyle for my university-of-choice'€™s board of directors'€™ golf game. If i was really committed to such things I would abandon the McUni. and work.
Im working now. Sort of.
My kids sang me a song today « hello ; hello ; hello R ; hello€... Good Morning ! Good morning ! Good bye Good bye...good bye !» In the mean time this is the class that is having trouble telling Ass from Elbow, but as you can see it is not so much thier fault as thier instructor'€™s similar directional deficit. Your funding could rectify this.
Oh: Dear stamping commitee: If you could please furnish your reply with a sample of an acceptable completed application, i will gladly sign it. Yours in honourable dependancy of the highest order and becheement, (abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvWxyz) P”please feel welcome to create a name pleasurable to your hearing and i will undertake the necessary legal proceedings to change my name here with)



I am writing this in the school computer lab and hoping none of the teachers with english proficiency notice it. One because the spelling is terrible, and two because it is about as coherent, wity and directional as my stinky socks. I have to do laundry. The question as posed out loud for the first time, though not the first time posed is: is this (read : masters program that accepted me/can i really apply for somethign else) a Stalling tactic ?
Dundunh dunh! it is in lign with : Why are you Here ? Which is what they are asking me on the &é"è! form.

I can really only answer that if i know what i want on the other end : damn it.
Who said « if you see a light at the end of the tunnel, its probably a train. »
….
.raises hand tentatively ; suggests with hard won casualness :
I would take a train

November 8th catchup

I woke up this morning and fell back asleep to dream: I am lying in bed; I sort of shake and rub my feet together to try and motivate myself to get out of bed. My room is warm and dry from the blast of night heat I allow in the night. I am suddenly in another room, the feeling in my torso changes as I let the ache of memory go, and let myself be in it. I am lying on my bed, in my sleep warmed and loosened sheets, I kick lightly into my bed to try and wake up and the sound of cooking and morning and voices in the kitchen streams into my ears as though the volume was just turned up. I am filled with comfort and love and knowledge that those voices were the reason I wanted to get out of bed. There is sun outside and so my yellow room is lit with the difussed light that makes its way through my green curtain and all the cracks in that imperfect window dressing that was perfect because it was home. I am half awake now writing this in my head. Dear B today I woke up and dreamt I was in Montréal. I dream again: I am looking out a train window; there are no words, I can’t speak in parting moments. Somehow I just look, so there is no sound when I remember unless I try. I am looking through the rectangle of a train window, my head is outside the upper part of the window as the train I am on pulls away from a platform station. I see the pink? building recede but more importantly I am blowing kisses and sending love, and I’ll miss yous and goodbye/abientot!s through my eyes in my muted state (finally, mute then, ha). And C. is running next to the train, at first the same slow loping that I saw someone’s three friends do when we were leaving a station some stops after Cerbere (france? Spain? I can never remember). I remember thinking then how much you could see it pulling at all four of them that their friend was leaving, that they were Parting. When they began the running was a bit of a joke, good for a smile a reenactment of some movie or (if you’re Canadian) a Heritage Moment commercial—this performance gets made use of for some last minute conversations and that moment where it is still for fun but it is just you two despite all the people in the train and really the last seconds in time here and we have said goodbye so many times a good one is worth everything so you play it up and live it and then you wake only to dream again of the brown auburn flecked head lobbing easily next to the train car after the first few hesitant(laughing?) steps as the train began to move, and the dusty-lavender coloured bomber jacket that you remember the feeling of because it was a satisfying hug, and because against the grey platform floor that was its backdrop you watched until you both could wave no longer and C turned and looked so small compared to the tall electrical line or lamp post at the stations graveled edge and I am turning, laughter beeming from my eyes, to smile into my orange seat amid the glances from the other few passengers on this train from Millau. I started the memory first with a physical recollection of the smile and then the sight filled in. For a second these moments live in me like a heavy bock. The transformation between a full past coloured at the edges and this present morning which has only a green swirling dot in the centre (perhaps my bed?) and beyond which I know nothing, presses down on my back. I press into it and allow myself to be enveloped by it. It will be a shelter another layer I wear under my clothing today, and they will keep me warm.

Dear S You asked me about the colours of my fall: The colours here are green and blue and grey… and often grey… (which means when there is sun it is magnificent just in its very existence at all). The leaves have fallen yellow brown and yesterday were incredibly crunchy, like I have not found in so long. My mouth waters to step on them the crunch so satisfying, they even echoed in the Lycee school yard where I was walking. The leaves here crunch so loudly I sometimes look around because I think maybe I’m making too much noise.
Dear B
Yesterday I slept in because I think I am getting a cold, small price to pay after a fantastic break. I woke up and cleaned up a little. I am STILL unpacking. Made some coffee and sat down to eat. And got a package delivered from a 3 year old who commented on “les petits gateau” (the little cookies) I had on my kitchen table…I was caught partaking in my indulgent breakfast.