Blue Monday?

(Me, My sister, Nancy and a “friend” in the 80s)

I happened upon Sally’s blog this morning because Eleanor, at the lovelyThatchwick Cottage mentioned that she (Sally) was having a “Blue Monday” (see photo in sidebar). Naturally, I could not resist. So, despite having told her I would write a sweet little poem about bluejays (there’s a trio in my backyard each day and I may get to that eventually– sorry for getting sidetracked), I was more inclined to go back in time and relive those wild days of my youth.

“Blue Monday” meant only one thing to me for the longest time. Take a look at this odd video from 1983. Now, just picture me dancing by myself on a pokey dance floor in some grotty backstreet club alongside a load of posers who spent most of their time looking at themselves in the mirrors that flanked the walls. Of course I NEVER did that!
Picture me in a black crinoline, black mesh tee-shirt, black ankle boots, studded belt, spikey RED hair, black eyeliner and loads of jewelry! Rings galore – always silver, NEVER gold adorned my fingers! Don’t forget the mismatched dangling ear-rings!

Yes! That was Poetikat, back in the day.

Now, picture my best friend, Debbie on her wedding day at The Sutton Place Hotel in Toronto, bopping around the dance floor to this song (by herself) in her full-length wedding gown! What fun we had! (Wish I had a picture of that!)

Here I go, whirling around my living room trying to avoid the cats. “Oops! Look out Gilbey! Blanche! Don’t get in my way. Red, mind your tail! Don’t worry, Daisy, I’m turning off the racket soon”…those were the days, huh?


If you enjoyed this (and I sure hope you did), be sure to check out my latest post at Generation X – Blasts from the past where you’ll catch an old K.C. and the Sunshine Band great from my teendom).


Get down tonight, Baby!

Grade Eight. Summer of 1974. This song hit the airwaves.

My friend Kelly and I were doing the “Bump” in her swanky family room with the huge stone fireplace and the walkout to a luxurious kidney-shaped pool a la a Columbo set. This, along with a whole host of great disco, was the music of choice. Whether it was a K-tel collection or the singles we carted back and forth to each other’s homes, this was our favourite pastime and the urge to dance has never left me (only these days I’m usually in my kitchen).

We knew nothing of Studio 54 in New York or what was going on in clubs in our big city of Toronto. We were 13 year-olds in suburbia listening to CHUM radio on our mini transistors with the one earphone and we were shakin’ our booties in Earth shoes, toe-socks, short-shorts and tight tees (although neither of us were well-endowed and I was even nicknamed “Flatsy” after a plastic doll of the same name).

We were reading “Tiger Beat” and “Seventeen” and “Mad” magazines and eating candy necklaces and chasing down the Dickie Dee guy on his bike, for some strawberry- shortcake bars.

The words of this song went right over our heads, as did the fact that the group was breaking down racial barriers by having a white American as front-man to a predominantly African American band. We just knew it was a great song and it was a blast to dance to it.

Kathleen Mortensen©2009

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How cool is it that K.C. is giving out flowers in this video?

In my dreams…

Photo borrowed from Flickr

A Wake

What dreams are these which nightly they, me haunt
With shades and shadows flitting through my head?
Not alcohol-induced, yet still they taunt
Through visitations, manifesting dread.

Here comes a man in black to beckon me
With garish gladiolas in his hands;
Beyond, another bows in turn, I see,
And deeper still, a box of pine there stands.

Now list and I can hear pipe-organ play
Its droning sound enshrouds in notes of calm;
As congregated come to mark some day,
Giving their voices to a well-loved psalm.

Some body rests so rigid in its case,
The person that I love–my father, fine;
Come closer, I, to kiss the waxen face,
Recoil as revelation proves it’s mine.

Then views of Hell and Heaven flash in turn
Of Lewis, Dante and Apocalypse;
Purgatory’s cleanse, or fiery burn?
Saved by necessity of toilet trips!

Kathleen Mortensen ©2008

In times of stress – go for a new look!

Mia Farrow did it after Frank Sinatra, Britney Spears did it after K-Fed (oops, I guess that doesn’t count, because she actually shaved her head, didn’t she?) and I did it yesterday!
I have a history of drastic cuts in times of crisis – many times I actually butchered my own hair, but these days I leave it to the professionals. Here’s a glimpse of what the last “hairy” year has been for me.

The photo above is my new “do”. I was tired of being hot, having hair in my face and looking old. (I took the picture myself, so my head is tilted back to get my face in the picture. I don’t normally have this twisted look.)

This was the most recent cut for my “debut” – it looked great that night and the day after, but from then on it was a sight! I like “wash’n’go” – don’t have time to fuss.

The cut I got for my old boyfriend’s second wedding – it was okay, but grew out kind of ragged. (Incidentally, I don’t think he and his bride liked the art deco vase we got for their wedding – we haven’t heard from them since!)

This was the $50 haircut I got last winter. Again, it looked nice until I tried to do the blow-drying act. As you can see from the top photo, I’ve got a bit of a wave to my hair, so it NEVER turned out like this again.

This was sometime late in 2007. My hair was fairly long, but getting a bit hard to deal with. The one thing about longer cuts in the wintertime is, they do keep your ears warm. So, with the short new cut, I’ll have to be wearing earmuffs, and lots of scarves to keep me cozy. I’ll post a shot someday of how I bundle up for the brrr-inducing Canadian coldsnaps!

Hospitality & Parkinson’s

Photo borrowed from Flickr

A Nervous System

There is a spot in town we go
As often as we can, we show;
Next of kin sleeps sound inside,
And no place other can he bide.

Its walls are cold and old the paint
Sweet smell of death the air doth taint;
Youth and age yet haunt the halls,
Where maids of mercy answer calls.

In tiny rooms, or depths of drapes
The barest breath of life escapes;
Cancer lies in wing and ward,
Where broken bargain with their Lord.

And yet the fools still smoking are
Hooked up to lines, they can’t go far;
Burgled beds left warm to wait
‘Til once more patient falls prostrate.

Inside he lies with bed-wound deep
We stand and watch him in his sleep;
Dopamine, the brain invades,
As slowly, sure his flower fades.

He waits – we wait to learn his place
Where next he goes to end the race;
Close his days in care-filled home,
Before he reach the Pleasure Dome.

Kathleen Mortensen ©2008

By Request: Classic Catwomen

I’ve had a thing for cats ever since I can remember. When I was in nursery school, I crawled on the floor and pretended to be Clarence the Cross-eyed lion from Daktari. I read Top Cat books, watched the cartoon and it goes without saying, I adore The Aristocats.

I have owned cats all my life.

Perhaps the biggest influence on my feline fanaticism has been the Catwoman from the campy Batman and Robin t.v. series from the 60s. I honestly believe that I was rooting for Catwoman everytime she made an appearance in her skin-tight, black catsuit, her cat’s eye glasses and her pointy ears (and boots). Her henchmen in their tiger striped jackets and black ears and whiskers made me giggle with glee.

My favourite Catwoman was played by Julie Newmar – a gorgeous, voluptuous cat-lady with a mane of reddish-brown hair. I even had a red plastic View Master to watch slideshows of my fave feline-fatale stealing rare Egyptian cat figures from a glass case.

Eartha Kitt was a fabulous Catwoman too, with her gravelly growl, her long dark hair, mysterious black mask and lovely coffee-coloured skin. She had the most fabulous mouth for a cat – pristine pearly teeth and luscious pink lips.

My least favourite Catwoman was Lee Meriweather’s. I’m not sure why I didn’t buy her as the feline villainess, but even as a little girl, I wasn’t a fan. (I did like her as Barnaby Jones’ daughter-in-law, Betty.)

Of course, some would argue that Michelle Pfeiffer and the lovely Halle Berry have surpassed the Catwomen of old. To that I say, “Pshaw!” They have their merits, but are poor copies of the originals.

I hear tell that Cher is lined up to do a Diva performance of Catwoman for director Christopher Nolan. I imagine she will be pretty much at the end of her 9 Lives. That should be something to see. Meeow!

Kathleen Mortensen©2009

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Here’s a video of all the Catwomen from the beginning to the present. This should really take you back.

The other side of Poetikat

Photo courtesy of Tripod

Okay folks. You know I’m going through a bit of a rough patch. So, let me show you what one of my greatest diversions is at this time. I created a blog a little while back called Generation X – Blasts from the Past. It’s a video-clip record of the odd things that strike my wacky brain every once in a while. Unfortunately, not many people have stopped in to check it out and this truly saddens me. I put a lot of work into this and am hopeful that most of you will enjoy travelling back down Memory Lane with some video clips from Movies, Music, Television and more from the past.

For example, today’s post features a clip from a rather unusual James Bond film – and who doesn’t love Bond?

I’ve created a widget (see sidebar at top) to make it easy for you to check out the headlines and look up earlier posts. I guarantee you will find something that catches your eye and takes you back to your youth and beyond.

So all you folks – whenever you were born – check it out and have some fun!