the art + chokes of mary pat omeara

incredulity in new york

Published

on November 13, 2008

in MP

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I didn’t know what a city was until I saw New York. In honour of Bridget’s birthday, her man Andy and I plotted to deliver the best birthday present ever: MP in New York. Since Bird found herself a resident of that great city, she has been harassing me to visit. I always meant to go, but never had both the money and the time. Such is working life, I suppose. At any rate, an unbelievably inexpensive flight on LAN airlines (a Chilean company) was found and booked. Bridget had no idea. After meeting some random Irish guy at the airport bar, and after a few too many drinks thanks to the friendly leprechaun, I boarded the plan and just happened to run into some old university friends. We shared a cab into the city, and I met Andy at Juilliard. He managed to get Bridget to stop in for a visit. They chatted in the lobby, and then, from the double doors behind them, I burst forth in Canadian glory! It was absolutely brilliant. Bird took one look at me and broke down crying. It has henceforth been dubbed our ‘Oprah moment’. Definitely one of MY favourite things. And the weekend took off from there. After far too many bowls of guacamole, Grand Central Station, Soho, subways, and Kate Spade, I have finally been introduced to one fantastically bustling city. What’s more, is that I really got to see Bridget in her element. She has found her ‘bee’ people, which is an analogy I take from the Blind Melon video for No Rain. The little girl in the bee costume finally finds that field full of bee people, and they dance their hearts out. Bridget’s friends are beautifully like-minded, and have just as much heart as my little Bird which is a rare thing to find. I must admit, that I don’t think New York is the city for me, but I’d definitely like to stop by more often than not. I will be back in New York, and it will once again rock my world.

fall benediction

Published

on October 19, 2008

in MP

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I like Autumn. I like it because it is a segue; somewhere between was and will. It was warm and it will be cold, but what is it now? Autumn isn’t now. It’s nowhere, and I haven’t been present during this season that I love so much. I’ve been contemplating too much, and now when I descend the steps of my ivy-covered building, the leaves are gone. I don’t know where I’ve been since they gave up their green and became crunchy cobblestones that stick to the cuffs of my pants. Transition is a strange thing when it happens so slowly. Change seems to be crawling quite slowly, almost impossible to witness. Up until now, I thought that I could just bide my time while I wait to get to what is next, but that seems silly and idle and something that I’ve already been doing for far too long. I am looking forward to what will happen next, whatever it may be, it just seems so far away. I’m left in the wake of something fulfilling, waxing elegiac for something that I haven’t even gained to have lost. Odd. I’m MP. I am five feet and eight and a half inches tall and fancy myself artistic. I like picture frames and the poetry of Emily Brontë. I have a purple scarf that I like to wear around my neck and I never spit in public. I have blue eyes, and I can pout spectacularly. I like daisies and paper lanterns. I took ballet lessons for 15 years, and still believe that I can dance. I want to be a rockstar, but for now am content to sing to the shower tiles. I am misunderstood. I aspire to happiness, and haven’t yet decided on a formidable career, although I’m testing the waters. I wear an amber ring on my finger, but only in the winter, and painted my apartment green. I struggle. I pierced my nose as a protest against symmetry when I was a teenager, and will probably many years from now go blind due to the macular degeneration that runs in my family. If I do go blind, I will become a sculptor; but for now and until old age creeps up on me, my eyes are just fine. I have two tattoos that I used to pretend were beautiful birthmarks that I should have been born with, but now I mostly forget that they are there. I have inspiration. I like to play the Moonlight Sonata on the piano when I am angry, and adore the artwork of Carson Ellis. I am unlucky. Pathetic Fallacy always seems to be in accordance with my life, and my favourite season is Indian Summer, even though it is politically incorrect. I like to stretch. I had my first kiss when I was fourteen, and know how to play the clarinet. I have an infectious laugh and keep dried flowers in a vase by my window. I am sensitive and analytical, and I listen to Hayden. I fear loss. I open my eyes underwater and like to paint my toe nails pink. I like to stay up late and wake up early, and my favourite CBC host is Barbara Budd. I like to wear a small ragdoll pinned to my sweater, and listen to acoustic guitars. I want to be remembered. I like to take pictures of chairs people keep in alleys, and like to look at people’s shoes on the subway. I avoid confrontation. I like to pretend that love songs are written about me, and I never put milk on my cereal. I grew up in Acton and I like to write stories. They are not published. I can’t define myself in a paragraph, and I believe that there are things about me that cannot be consigned to words, but nevertheless, I want you to know me. Happy Autumn.

Kashuby Summer

Published

on August 25, 2008

in Andrew and MP

. 1 Comment

In 1859 a small group of families arrived in the beautiful Madawaska Valley. Hailing from a region of Poland known as ‘Kaszuby’, they found this small pocket of Canadian wildnerness as their home. At the north end of Lake Kamaniskeg, at the town of Barry’s Bay, they lay claim to the land and rooted their culture in the rocky earth. The surrounding area was primarily Irish in its settlement, and to this day both cultures are prominent between the townships of Wilno and Barry’s Bay. Years later, as fate would have it, two cottagers of the area would meet. A Polish lad named Andrzej would win the heart of a young Irish lass named Mary Patricia, and the duo would enjoy the cool waters of the Madawaska Valley together, united in the cultural and historical diversity of the land. The young Irish lass would then paint a bench in traditional Kashub tradition to try and win over the family of the Polish lad. It was a lovely bench of love.

cottaging on

Published

on August 10, 2008

in Andrew, MP and Tyler

. 1 Comment

People in transition are all around. Back to School Sale signs have started to pop up in store windows. The cold wind of seasonal change is about to begin blowing an ominous breeze of scheduled existence and early sunsets. And I’m sure the odd leaf will soon fall to the ground, brining the end of summer with it. People will leave, people will return, and I will remain with my bad haircut. The perpetual Sunday that is August is here, and still I feel as though my summer hasn’t really started. Odd.

At any rate, the end has begun and Andrew’s apartment over on Windermere is now empty of us. Last week we packed up all of his earthly possessions and somehow managed to fit most of them into the little blue car. With our seats pushed up as forward as they could go, we set out on a very long and very cramped journey to Barry’s Bay. After 20 minutes of unloading what took as nearly 12 hours to pack, we dropped in at the Trout Lake cottage to see my family and some summer friends of yore. After a couple beers, a couple burgers, and a game of ‘Last Man Standing’ on the raft with the Nagy kids, we returned to the cottage on Lake Wadsworth, and swiftly set out on an Eastern Ontario adventure to Tyler’s cottage down on Big Rideau Lake.

A small congregation of Andrew’s housemates from Queen’s came together at Tyler’s island abode. Beer, boats, and belly-aches were made our pleasures at the gracious hands of our hosts. I don’t know if I’ve ever been to a finer cottage. Love and comfort oozed from every wonderfully uneven floorboard… even in the outhouse. You could just feel the years of childhood joy that several generations of Tyler’s family have experienced there. After a kayaking excursion, a barefoot trail hike, some sailing, and a whole lotta risk, we had to leave the lovely oasis and head home like the rest of the long-weekend adventurers. A car full of Queen’s alumni traversed the 401, when we realized that during the 4 years each of us had going back and forth in between Kingston and Toronto, none of us had ever stopped in at the Big Apple. As we saw that red orb grow in front of us on the horizon we figured ‘why not?’ We stopped, we ate pie, and we climbed the steps inside the Big Apple that let us look out upon the bad traffic we would soon face. It was all actually incredibly anticlimactic. In the end, we made it back to Toronto with overly full stomachs.

In Toronto I remain, with a new bad haircut and trying to lose the 6 pounds I gained over the long weekend. Humbug. Now Andrew and I are trying to find ways to escape the city again… which is made more difficult with work pending and schedules undefined. Feels like Fall already.

refurbished words

Published

on July 29, 2008

in Andrew and MP

. 0 Comments

I love you because you are beautiful and smart and in control of your life and finances your business acumen astonishes me and makes me want to arrange your flowers.