Mythos & Marginalia

life notes; flaws and all

j.g. lewis

original content and images ©j.g. lewis

a daily breath...

A thought du jour, my daily breath includes collected and conceived observations, questions of life, fortune cookie philosophies, reminders, messages of peace and simplicity, unsolicited advice, inspirations, quotes and words that got me thinking. They may get you thinking too . . .


When it’s not right, we see
only what is wrong instead
of trying to make it better.

Look past the faults.
See possibilities.

Keep moving forward.

08/17/2022                                                                              j.g.l.

Mondays are just young Fridays

So, I make mistakes.
   An oversight or three, here and there, or an error or lack of judgment can (and will) happen. My lack of foresight simply happens.
   We do not learn from our mistakes, but rather we learn from the experience.
   You cannot prepare yourself for all probabilities knowing a mistake is a likely possibility.
   Pay attention.
   Experience comes from noticing what you are paying attention to.

08/15/2022                                                                                     j.g.l.


That Moon


Maybe this Moon

with the power it bleeds

      will illuminate more

      unnecessary violence

     and greed.

       Maybe this Moon

         has memories

    it simply cannot forget.

       Some of us will relate

    while others regret.

  Maybe that Moon knows

        what it is all worth

   and sets an example

       for those looking up

         from this earth.

07/27/2018                                                                            j.g.l.

I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
other times
dull or
Still I write.

j.g. lewis
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.

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Between The Covers

Posted on January 10, 2018 by j.g.lewis Leave a comment

Don’t look for me amidst words I write
between the lines or in the night. My handwriting
always rough at best, the journal is a daily test
not to myself, as much as time.
The pages stained, the thoughts are mine.
Coffee spills or drops of rain, tears
in certain places, among streaks of blood
(paper cuts) are both things I’ve done, and
things I must.
Personal. Private, page after page, book into
book, rarely do I take a second look.
I can, when I choose. I write. Memories now,
or they will be soon, a thought du jour,
there is always room between newspaper clippings
and obituaries, postage stamps and all the necessaries;
the weather, the cities, the price of gas, a few jokes
and then, a certain laugh. I never know what
I will discover, as I fill the space
between the covers.
Inspiration from a tea bag tag, a picture from a
product tag, instructions to a game, a recipe or two,
the phone number of someone I once knew.
Stories of redemption, or reflection, coupons
never redeemed, wishes and promises not once
what they seemed.
Directions to a house I’ll never visit again. Excuses
or reasons I never explain. An expired lottery ticket,
a book mark now, I always wonder the when
and the how.
Concert tickets, and transit passes, accounts of
dreams now only ashes. A label from a bottle
of premium champagne, reminders I’m reminded of,
again and again.
Let’s face it, we don’t always remember, and in years
we never will. You can write them down and still
the history in the making, of interest to myself.
Only once a kiss and tell.
The journal is, essentially, a travelogue: inner thoughts,
outward concerns as I evolve. The pencil continues
to scratch, the words keep running. It’s not
who I have become, but what I am becoming.

©2018 j.g. lewis

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