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 . . .

Enjoy

Comfort food,
as the temperature dips.

Favorites.

Restaurant special,
mom’s recipe or
make it up as you go.

Is there a better day
than today?

Be nourished.

Take the time
to enjoy.

Remember the leftovers.

09/23/2022                                                                    j.g.l.

Expression

Art is subjective,

graffiti destructive,

or is it

expressive?

 

09/22/2022                                                                   j.g.l.

Mondays are just young Fridays

There is nothing definite about autumn.
   Fall is fickle, if not downright unpredictable, right down to when it begins.
   We have ‘Meteorological” autumn: defined by splitting the year into nice simple quarters with September 1st chronologically marking the day.
   Then we have “Astronomical” autumn beginning on September 22nd and marked by the autumnal equinox.
   But last week, I observed “Spiritual” autumn, not as much defined by a date as a feeling.
   It was unexpected actually. It was Thursday. The weather had been downright balmy as of late and the trees remain lush and leafy. The gorgeous colours so familiar to autumn have hardly arrived, so the morning chill took me by surprise, and I without a sweater.
   Indeed, it felt like autumn.
   Autumn comes with the end of summer and is elated closely to going back to school.
   How many years of my life have been marked by September? Certainly those of my youth, when summer seemed to last a helluva lot longer than it does these days.
   Enjoy your autumn; stretch it out as long as you can because winter, most certainly, will be much more definite.

09/19/2022                                                                                          j.g.l.

 

I'm like a pencil;
sometimes sharp,
most days
well-rounded,
other times
dull or
occasionally
broken.
Still I write.

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

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My Admission

Posted on December 5, 2018 by j.g.lewis // 2 Comments

I am not hungry,
but starving; this inner need (or want), a craving
for anything pure, authentic,
and nourishing.

A sandwich or salad, unlike
what I have known, or consumed.

Only after I am sufficiently sated
will I be able to do battle another day, or sleep
without these images interrupting this night.
It is dark.

Ego and emotion command
too much space and mind.

Am I yet another ambiguous miracle, or
just another carney hawking candy apples
and games of chance?
Step right up.

The midway is crammed. Lovers
hand-in-hand. A noisy crowd.

Turn off the music.
I can smell the horse shit between the trailers,
sawdust, and aftershave. I can only
taste warm beer.

I need greater nutrition. I suffer
for having paid my admission.

© 2018 j.g. lewis

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2 replies on “My Admission”

When I awake in the morning and realize that I slept well, without any sleep aid, I know it is going to be a good day.

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