Life - Much To Offer

I don't have much to offer you.  Except for what I write.



I'm a Canadian artist, I wear my heart on my sleeve.  I compose music, write stories, poetry and plays.  I have a discerning eye and intellectual tastes.  I work long hours and longer days, I sleep through the mornings and am up all night.  Sometimes I don't go to sleep.  I fill journals with meanderings about the human condition.

Sometimes I cry for no reason other than that I despair.

I go for long walks and like to disappear.  I shake hands with strangers and read every sign placed in front of me.  I don't like driving but I almost do it for a living.

I recycle.

I hope for the best and expect the worst.  I look at lights and the breath of wind for meaning.

I hear music at sunset.

When I close my eyes, I see other worlds, places indescribable, with elemental minutiae of emotions flowing liquid past me.  I see moments transfixed in time as crystal, a never ending spiral out from myself that connects me to eternity entire.

I like playing with children, and am transfixed by watching them discover their world.  I cherish a moment in memory when my niece sleeps on my chest, her tiny breaths in perfect tandem with my rising and falling lungs.  The softest smile of a child on her face, she is perfectly content.

I play guitar because it's a lonely instrument, and a piano because it isn't.

I know how to cook and know the exact proportions of flour to sugar to get a rise out of bread.  I like cooking because I enjoy the moment people taste something they've never had before.

I feel like falling, hearing wind rushing through me and feeling the way it blasts past my skin.

I don't have much to offer you.  But I do know, that at this moment I like you.  If you'll have me, who knows?  This might turn out to be a grand adventure.