This year. 

It’s the 10th of September today, which always means it’s 8 days to my birthday. And this year, more than any other year I can remember feels so faraway from where I was. 

My birthday, in my own uber-narcissistic worldview, has always been a kind of a magical time to celebrate. Next to Christmas, my birthday is the only time when I succumb to such magical thinking. Both only come two times a year. And hell, you can get away with a lot so long as you say it’s soon your birthday, right? “It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.” That’s a useful trick up your sleeve as you get older and need a reason for all the glitter and shinnies, after all. Though I hardly ever need a reason for glitter and shinnies. I’m a GD addict. (Sorry for the swearing, again, Gma. But you see – it’s almost my birthday and all.)

A magical time of year for me and a sense that who I was & where I was this time last year are nowhere similar – yet everywhere similar. As my dad likes to say, no one ever really changes after a certain age.  But I think it’s more like you change in tiny ways that maybe you are the only who’s aware of. 

I feel different than last year. Slightly. Oh it’s no giant I’m suddenly so wise kinda bullshit. I’ve never been one for the syrupy stuff. (See my sudden need to swear? Always a sign I’m feeling the need to shrug off some emotionally touchy crap. 😜) but I feel different. I’ve basically spent a whole year being more a recluse than I already was. I barely went out of the house at all. I spent these last months trying to find my centre in a world I couldn’t make sense of. It’s been great for my glow in the dark tan. 

After Deej’s death, it was more than tough to see the world go on without him. And I didn’t want it to. I had no patience for people and their pettiness. Not that I was ever known for my tolerance for that. But I couldn’t handle the world anymore. I couldn’t write about anything other than grief. I couldn’t relate. And some part of me knew that in order to not disconnect entirely I had to cocoon for a long time. And it has been a long time. And I have to thank all of you who have stood by me during it. 

It was months of watching Netflix, playing with Goo. Fighting with my emotions, denying my feelings, than accepting them. And more importantly, accepting that I have emotions periods. Bleh. Trips back home which were sorely needed and that I’m forever grateful for. And a repeat trip to Toronto to remind that at the core I am the same uber epic Nette I’ve always been. Loads of skittles and impulses indulged. Whatever got me through the day. And some days felt like years. Which is probably why I feel so far from this time last year. All things considered in a good way. 

I don’t feel like I drag the past around with so much anymore. You have to take it with you -your past- sure, but you don’t have to let it define you. Being unable to bring Deej back, that staggering unalterable fact made me face that the absence I feel and will always feel for him means I owe to myself & him to fill my future with as much GD happiness as I can find. Because in mourning him, I was also mourning the transition from childhood to adulthood. 

It’s not all I’m a grownup now crap, neither. Because I’m not. I don’t anyone is unless they’ve given up on fun. I will be 99 and still wearing glitter, and still eating skittles, and still swearing like a sailor, and still dyeing my hair rainbow colours – because that’s what’s fun for me. That’s what I like to do. There’s maybe more responsibilities now than there was when I was a child. But I still want shiny things and happy times in my days. I think we all want that. 

But you can’t go back, eh? And why should we want to even if we could? Unless to see the people we’ve lost. You’re meant to go forward with time being just as unstoppable a force as gravity. You can’t beat it unless you’re willing to become a black hole – becoming so dense as to suck up all the light around you and to literally bend time/space with your gravity. Turns out I’m not willing to be a black hole. So I let go. That’s the only way really. Let go and be a star. Blah blah blah syrupy crap. Sorta. But true. 

It’s eight days to my birthday. And it’s a magical time even more so this year. I’m going eat all the desserts. Wear all the glitter. Share all my shiny moments with my friends and family. Because I’m surrounded by magical people who make my life one giant messy bunny in a top hat trick. And I’m GD grateful for you guys. Truly. It’s been years of days that I’ve survived. And I’ve been gone a long time from the world. But it’s 8 days to my birthday and there’s so much to celebrate for. And about. And who needs a reason to indulge themselves? I sure as hell don’t. 

xoxoxo

GD, rambly post, eh? 
Cheers & Many blah blah Salutations,

❤ Nette

IDK evermore

  white parallel lights
& a black central core

a tunnel of sorts
in my closed eyelids

no motion
yet I’m flying
through the source

what’s the code
to it all?

what am I missing?

what’s the password?

what’s it all for?

IDK.
I don’t know.
I won’t ever know.
That’s the point.
to ask questions.
to hope the answers come full force.

the hope’s the thing.
in white parallel lights
& a black central core.

IDK evermore.

(As it appears on my @ClubNette Instagram, below)

  

the fans spins & an insomniac scrawls

the fan spins
in an unheard rhythm
& an insomniac scrawls
way after dark

she sees an S curve
in the compact fluorescent bulb
& the LED one
looks like a flower
that’ll never bloom
until turned on
off white blazing
all 40 watts of it

the fan spins
in the twilight
it’s never dark
under the city glow

she feels the breeze
against her bare arms
& shivers
pulling the blankets
up to her neck

she wonders when sleep
will fall over her
in an unheard rhythm
lulling
the fan spins
& an insomniac scrawls
way after dark

(And below is how the poem appears on my @ClubNette Instagram account ❤️)

  

obscure ode to the dead man’s hand

I always shoot from the hip
aim off a little bit
taking out people
I never wanted marked
for harm
nor death

taking action
but ending up with
reactions
I never could predict

still acting like a kid
as if I were still
the centre of the universe
still the special sun

been practicing my aim
hitting some bullseyes
more often than
slaying the felt sidelines
all part of the game
improving my hand
& eye coordination

still can’t see what
lies ahead
know better now
than to think I can
predict it

but at least now 
I see what’s 
around me
here in the present

nah

I don’t forget now
where I am
& how blessed I am

or at least
I try my best
not to get surrounded
by the words
long ago said
or the deeds
long ago dead
all in my head

yeah

all the past
all in my head
kept well fed

yeah

letting go of
regret
as well as one
really can

yeah

not
empyting the clip
trying to kill
dead ends
of regret

nah

I am everyday
reminding myself
I am here

I am here
and far away –
out of the 
prism-prisoned past
we all sometimes
make cages of

Etsy & Me

Yep! That’s right! I did what I threatened forever ago. I opened an Etsy shop to sell all my available prints from that March 2015 print run. 

I can’t thank everyone who’s already bought one enough. You know you you are. Thanks so much. 

Also, special thanks goes to my sister Christina for being as always my special cheer squad and convincing me to order real prints of my digital ‘art’ as she calls it. My life changed, when I held them in my hands. No really it totally blew me away. 

A billion thanks to everyone who told me to sell them once they saw them. I’ve been showcasing them to all the peoples I’ve seen since March. And I’ve appreciated all the compliments & love & tips I’ve been given. I really am the luckiest person on Earth to have the friends and family I’ve been blessed with. You guys sure know how to make a dragon blush. 

*nose flare*

You want a print? Go get one. 

Either search ClubNettePrintShop on Etsy’s site (www.etsy.com) or click here
(I so wanted to write: You want a print? You can’t handle a print, btw.)

Cheers,
Nette
xoxoxo

just to let you know

fighting through
my brain’s 
traumatic patterns
was hard enough
even when I was giving in to them

now that I’m usurping
their throne
skittering those
tragic rectangles
into rippling circles
breaking apart

now that it’s long past time
to reclaim my crown
I’m untangling things 
I’ve long run away from
& I feel exhausted
but lighter
death does that you know

a scythe cuts to the soul
better yet the bone

just to let you know
I’m doing okay
taking it day by day
keeping to myself

forgive me
for keeping out of sight
forgive me
for staying pretty much silent
for so long

even though
I’m doing nothing wrong
I’m just surviving
as we all are

forgive me anyways
just as I’d understand
if you’d chance to
take your turn

I’m just surviving
as we all are
I just can’t do it
within the glare

just to let you know
I’m doing okay
taking it day by day
bit fragile
but none the worse for wear

joy & a wry smile

joy
&
a wry smile
been a while
my friends
at the ends
of a fraying thread
there’s a rainbow
sprinkling a little
refraction
white light
divided
a fraction
like an iris
blooming with
joy
&
a wry smile
  

there’s a shadow on the page

there’s a shadow on the page
putting the pen to pape
causes me pain

I’m tired of writing
about bleeding hearts
all I desire is rest

but the urge to write
burns my insides
and I must have ink on my palms
to feel accomplished

so I put pen to paper
but there’s a shadow on the page
I can’t escape

midnight black hood over the words
I can’t run away
it’s everywhere
stealing up 
each and every blank page

following me
stalking the blue lines
that remain untouched 

pour me a drink
so I might spit
right in its damn face
better than the useless tears
blinking 
raining
on the page

there’s a shadow on the page
and I’m sending it back to the hell it came from

I’ve had enough 
of bleeding hearts
and useless tears

give me a pen
so I can stab up the page
and ruin the darkness
that’s fallen over my words

no more shadows
for me
nevermore said the raven in my brain

entitled

dreamt of gas seared lungs and a drowning death that took years in killing me. woke with a shattered sense. reality in shards – pretty cut glass. reflecting. all I thought I was entitled to. all I was sure I was entitled to. for being alive. broken was the promise that was never made. laid before me. writhing in its undeath. have we lost that memory? held up so preciously? as we bathed the world in blood? there is no guarantee. no entitlement. for being alive. everything is a gift. somewhere we’ve forgotten, I think. we know the lines. read them a thousand times. but do not know them in our hearts. all to life is love and there are no guarantees. so each brought to self: is not to own. is a gift: to be treated as such. less a mirror to what you feel entitled. empty lies
those whispers preach; albeit fervently. 

bloom

my heart’s so heavy
feels like
it’ll sink right through me
nestle into the soil
grow deep roots
in the black, rich 
earth
settle in
warm wombed
maybe bloom again