Here is some important information following the election that concerned citizens may want to learn:

Official Lyrics of O Canada!

O Canada!
Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all thy sons command.

With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!

From far and wide,
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

God keep our land glorious and free!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

Or you could read this editorial on Commondreams.org by Sarah Anderson called "Ten Reasons Not to Move to Canada"

On Tuesday night while watching the electoral results come in I got a phone call informing me that Maria is dead. They found her body in Lake Erie on Sunday and weren't able to identify it definitively until Tuesday. She drowned the same night she disappeared. We'll never know if it was an accident or a choice she made on her own. She was manic depressive, and I don't blame anyone, myself, her family, even Maria, I blame the disease that drove her from her home in the middle of the night.

I can't really say what I'm feeling about the whole thing. When I found out I sobbed in this really surprised gasping way, just fighting against the reality of it. From now on, for the rest of our lives, Maria will always be gone. I can picture her in my living room watching old movies, I still have messages from her jotted down on the notepad by my phone, and my travel mug is probably still in her car. The last time we talked she said she would drop it off at my place.

You know, as someone who is very melodramatic and prone to some pretty self-pitying fits of depression, I've often talked and thought about suicide. My friend last night was saying how mourning is the most selfish act, beacuse it's all about the loss of the living, and not the suffering of the dead. But now I see how selfish suicide is. Maria stole herself from us, stole herself from herself. I'm reading a book she gave me, Bergson's Time and Free Will, but it is a poor substitute for her conversations, her mind, the intonations of her voice. She may have been found, but I'll always keep asking, "Maria, where are you?"

So yesterday was my 29th birthday, and I didn't really tell anyone. I spent the day running around trying to get things done, worrying about Maria, and stressing about being overcommitted. I've signed up to do a short performance for the cabaret this weekend, just to keep busy, so of course I'm trying to get a million things together for it. I had to go to the craft store and the fabric store, and then at midnight last night I was with Brian, god bless him, in the Buffalo subway video taping trains. Then I went home and sewed the baby mole puppet for the Mole People Messiah act.

So basically, I'm planning to celebrate my mid-life mid-life in crises Saturday night after the cabaret, if anyone would care to join me ((e:soyeon), sorry I missed you last night! How's Saturday?) If you haven't seen the Real Dream Cabaret at Rust Belt Books yet, you really have to go. Although maybe not this weekend. The theme is the Underground, so it should be dark, and also, my skit is in very bad taste... But maybe you're in to that kind of thing.

But here are the real Real Dreamers, below. The last night they perform this year is Election Night. That's November 2 for all you abstainers or anyone who has just emerged from a cave. (Is that what the 5% undecideds are, cave dwellers who have just crept from the depths of the earth? Or is that the Mole People? Are they in search of a Mole People Messiah to lead them)?

My Friend Maria has been missing for a week today. She just disappeared into thin air last Thursday morning. I found out about it while I was in Montreal presenting at a conference. Apparently the police thought that she was with me when they couldn't get in touch with me.

So I've been totally out of it, trying to think where she could be, whether she's been kidnapped or wandered off... I don't know. I understand now how that's the worst part.

So, I have so much else to say... about Montreal and other things, but for now all I can think is "Maria, where are you?"

"(Port Colborne, ON, Canada, October 22, 2004) - - Rescue crews across the border are resuming their search for a missing Western New York woman.

Niagara Regional Police say relatives reported 40 year old Maria Repec missing Thursday morning.

Police say Repec is vacationing at her family's Port Colborne cottage and is an avid walker.

Rescue workers, volunteers, and a search dog spent much of Thursday combing the woods in and around Port Colborne.

Rick Geady of the Niagara Regional Police said, "She has since left the area, she's walking somewhere in this area we believe. She's commonly doing long walks."

If you've seen Repec, you're asked to contact Niagara Regional Police at 905-735-7811."

I'm realizing more and more how this journal actually helps me to remember what's going on in my life. It prolly isn't interesting for the rest of you to read (well, except my mom), but sometimes I just gotta make a list of what's been happening. Otherwise I honestly forget. They say people who keep lifelong journals are less likely to get Alzheimers. Here are my attempts to prevent it.

Sunday- Killed time at Medaille with Brian, reading Times, waiting for editing computer to open up so we could work on the Swan documentary. It didn't. Saw Sky Captain with Maria. Followed by sky party on the roof of Emily's boyfriend Graham's loft. Met interesting Argentinian horse trainer-turned high school teacher.

Monday- Columbus day. Classes were cancelled at Medaille, so I didn't have to teach. Drawing class in the afternoon. Stopped by my sister Wendy's house for dinner. Played with goat. Can't remember what I did after. TV maybe? Talked to Sebastian? Dozed on couch? Definately dreamed a strange dream of being a little Indian girl running away from a blonde brother and sister while also being the brother and sister. It was all a mix up, you see.

Tuesday- Gallery trip to see Bruce Jackson's photos of photos of 1930's Arkansas prisoners. Hated it. Kinda told him so. What a wind bag. Work meeting, helped set up for Naples/Higgins debate. Totally blanked (e:southernyankee) and (e:tina) party. Sorry gals. You know if my mind weren't such swiss cheese I would have partied down with you. Asked someone to John Cale concert at Mohawk Place, got turned down for a plumber. Went to hear John Cale with buddy anyways. Didn't sleep at home anyways... doh! Ambivalent feelings about buddy sex in the cold grey morning-after morning of...

Wednesday- something like: dawn-drive home, work, teach, draw, then spend four hours on video lighting excercise with (e:paulnotpaul) and others for class. Lots of work, but lots of fun. Exhausted by the end. Merciful sleep.

Thursday- Work. Sleep. Didn't go to see Stelarc. Sleep.

Friday- School, teach, work. Sleep. Party at Paul V's house with (e:soyeon), (e:robin), (e:liz), other sundry u-b-ers (that's you-bee-ers, not ubers) and assorted Medaille folks. Fun time. Tried on Paul's invention, the security bra. Didn't make out with anyone, especially not the beautiful opera teacher with the cupid bow lips. Sigh. Now if only he were a pervert, he could cure me of my hysteria. See, let me explain, hysterics don't want buddies, they want perverts. Oh, never mind. Ended up at Robin's with Soyeon til 5 am. Had to work...

Saturday- 10 am arrived at work on time can you believe it. And then I actually worked. Well, except for this part where I'm writing in my journal.

It's strange how much I actually remembered as I was going along writing this. Back, back fierce alzheimer's! You won't get this blogger's mind!

the giant bride and groom amid the fall foliage. your wedding was beauti-fall (e:trish) and (e:paulnotpaul)! it couldn't have been better. the peeps, as you can learn from (e:matthew), (e:terry), (e:paul), and I'm sure others to come ((e:southernyankee), (e:tina), (e:lilho), (e:flaccidness), (e:springfairie)) partied in style, as usual. hopefully we can all be there to help celebrate the happy couple's 1st, 10th, 50th wedding anniversaries... which will all take place on our collectively owned sheep (and goat) farm, of course. although trisha's family told me of her plans to have twelve sons and one daughter! i'm all for collective living and "it takes a village" child rearing, but i'm trying to imagine a room full of a baker's-dozen kordos-lehnen babies! seeing as trish and paul are some of the happiest and funniest people i know, i think it'd be a good time.

I'm becoming a postmodern conceptual artist. Last night I took digital photographs of my TV, which I have made a little slide show out of. I realize I was in part inspired by (e:matthew) 's Lucy pictures. Please take a look at the whole thing and tell me if it works, Medaille's servers are really slow. You can view them all by following this

Update on my progress in figure drawing class. This woman may seem strange but really this is what she looks like. She has the most beautiful medieval face with a high round forehead. My cat Roshi is a tough critic:

My friend Anna and I went to Forest Lawn cemetery on Sunday to make some grave rubbings. We were looking for names that were also common words, which we recombined into new phrases. Anna had some really good ones, including, and I'm not kidding, "Twitty Valentine Love." Here are some of my results. I'm going to write a very French kind of artist statment about what I think these are about: monumentality, the symbolic register, the proper name as collective category, urban density, self-destroying practices in the buddhist sense as a prerequisite for collaboration and compassion. But first here are the pictures:

"As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so life well used brings happy death." -- Leonardo da Vinci

Not because I want to, but because I've had to, I've been experimenting with what's called a polyphasic sleep cycle. Basically it means that you sleep several times a day in small increments, and in the end you actually sleep less overall, but still feel rested. Leonardo da Vinci, crazy genius that he was, supposedly slept only fifteen minutes every 4 hours. No wonder he managed to become one of the world's greatest artists, engineers, and scientists.

My aspirations are not quite so noble. Mostly it's about being able to party while still maintaining my roles as a student, teacher, researcher, and lab monkey. Here's how it works. I come home from my daily duties about 6pm, sleep till 8 or 9. Then I go out with people who actually have free time, which means that the evening begins around 11 or 12, since they can all sleep in the next day. Okay, so, party till about 3 or 4am, then home again. Sleep from 4-8. Get up, rub red eyes, drag deadweight body to car, proceed through day's responsibilites. Repeat.

How long can I keep this up? My sister worked nights for years, and she actually split her sleep in two. Some at 7am when she came home, some before she had to go in at 11. She maintains it nearly killed her, and thinks she accrued a sleep deficit she'll never quite replenish. She did kinda wander around in a haze in those days.

But this method has allowed me to do all I need to do: plan for class, finish projects, drink prodigeously. Oh, and avoid dreaming (see previous journals). It also gave me the opportunity to join in the Girl Power (plus Steve) Midnight Normal Ave Robin Move on Thursday night. And last night I was able to act like a petulant child watching a man I was attracted to nuzzle his girlfriend, while at the same time rebuffing the advances of subpar dive-bar y-chromos who think if you're wearing a little eyeliner you'll fuck anyone who's mostly upright. It was a full night.

So here's my question, if da Vinci never slept, then how could he believe that a well-spent day brings happy sleep? And what in this world or the next is a happy death?

I'll hopefully find out tomorrow in the cemetery. I'll go rub graves, since nobody rubs me.