Author Archives: Jen H Mont
Mr. Paris Pigeon Pants and Making Peace with Progress
Mr. Paris Pigeon Pants and Making Peace with Progress – a novel-
The true story of a clandestine meeting between a girl and a pigeon in Paris- as captured in film by Jon Tillman. It is not a novel, but it should be, truly.
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A song written by a wonderful lady named Kelly Mitchell has become my most recent theme song. “Make peace with progress or get out of is way.” It is a harder lesson to learn than I initially thought, but I am getting there.
I feel a stretching and a growing and perhaps some reaching. What am I reaching for? That seems hard to say or pin down…. my ideas and notions about the world are being challenged, but not in a way that I am used to- it is not drastic or tragic- it is quiet and it could be ignored if I tried hard enough, but I don’t and so it is here just looking at me – wondering what I am going to do next.
I am making peace with progress… and learning as I go, but with each step- as often happens- I realize how much more there is to learn.
Annoy Authority
Mrs. Davey Crocket… Queen of the Wild Frontier
The fourth grade must be a magical time where these things are concerned. I remember being in a play about Davey Crockett. Somehow I was the only girl in the cast. I had to waltz with Davey C. which at the time horrified me and Mr. Crockett as well I think. It was all fine when he could hold my t-shirt a foot away from my waist, but when I had to wear the dress we actually had to touch… ugh…. that involved boy cooties, apparently. Clearly not as informative as Carrie Nation, but we were learning about something- I just can’t tell you what at the moment. My fourth grade year was not one of monumental teaching… I had supply teacher after supply teacher… Now my fifth grade year with Mrs. Scott- astounding, but that is an entirely different story.
But when I think of this I know that there are pieces of what I have become in that story… and yes oddly enough when I think about all the things that I have wanted to be many of them are incorporated into my daily life though sometimes in very odd ways…
When I Grow Up
I am so excited about this class and lucky enough that Shimelle asked me to participate in it as a guest artist. If you would would like to join the fun… the class starts today!!
Home is… ?

I have been pondering the meaning of home lately. What does it mean to be at home or go home? Where is home when I have family in Raleigh, North Carolina- Beaufort, South Carolina- Leesburg, Georgia- Berlin, Germany- Hamburg, Germany- and Bekum, Germany— I also have adopted family in Boone, North Carolina- North Myrtle Beach, South Carolina- Brooklyn,New York (to name a few). I was born in North Myrtle Beach. I grew up all over North and South Carolina and I live in Essex, UK.
Where is home in all of this?
For a majority of my 20’s I have worked toward the idea of Becoming the Woman I Want to Call Home – in this thought process it is me that is home and I suppose I travel or dream of traveling as a snail does with all of my belongings close to me, but belongings don’t make up home anymore than one local makes you at home.
I imagine a simplier time in the world when you belonged to one locale with family and friends all in one place, but this is a false version of reality. People have always wandered aroung looking for {fill in the blank… food, fufillment, mates, work, warmer or colder weather, something, anything}. It is simply easier or faster to stay in touch with many people now… so does that allow you the time to miss them… and what does that have to do with home? Much perhaps, but I am not sure at this point.
Home is where the heart is. Home is where you hang you hat. Home is your location. Home is where you were born…. where your children were born. Home is where most immediate family is…
It is something that is evolving in my head at the moment. I want to be at home… I know this, but I am not sure where that home is…
Learning
“It takes courage to grow up and become who really are.” -e.e.cummings
The ever enchanting sand slipper
Glass Slippers for the Cause- 1998
I came to you neatly packaged…
wrapped — trapped all boxed up
Green Ribbon to Garnish all of my
un—well put together
Thoughts—–
Pumped full of happy endings
and a sparkle in my eye
Dreaming of the Educational Wonderland
I was about to enter
where learning would be the very glass
of my slipper that would guide me into the
Perfect Dream you sell so well—
you taught me the glass was only sand
put together in a cruel enough fashion
to cut my feet– liberated– I’d prefer to
go Barefoot — I’d prefer to go naked ——
all you offer me — Is the Emperor’s New Clothes
which look really appealing on paper But is revealed
to physically mean Nothing— The Emperor’s New Degree
and to accompany this beautiful ensemble
we have some lovely slippers But watch your step
They’re sharp in places.
I ripped myself open–only to watch myself fall out
onto the street My Morality my un–well put together thoughts
Falling onto the Pavement Slipping into
the Gutter– Where we all are — Or so says Oscar
But I lost sight of the stars—-
Deciphering you Brand of Understanding and Intellect–
It means nothing to me– But you’ll only look at
the paper it’s Printed on — Sending me out to teach
your lies– Selling more Glass Slippers for the Cause
One Size Fits– All– Cinderella and Her Sisters
would disagree with that— But don’t use logic here
It won’t fit– But that shoe will Just keep trying honey
and pay no attention to the man Behind
the Curtain
Everything is all right
and you’ll get that shoe to fit
Glass Slippers for the Cause- 2003
wrapped—trapped and all boxed up
for you – again
I get here only to realize
I—am—that’s it- me
I am selling fucking glass slippers
for the cause
They don’t fit you either—well
Damn honey try harder- it’s on my agenda today
and it happens to be a standard…
Whose standards am I pimping anyway?
My own seem to have been tossed out –
wrapped trapped
and boxed on their way out the door
I wanted it to be different
but we are just shoving people into different shoes
they are still made of glass
they still cut the feet
you are still better off barefoot
So I prepare to dismount my tan horse
for even I can’t walk in these shoes
and I stand on the side of the road
thumb in air
I am done with my emperor’s degree
I am done with sand slippers
I am done and crispy about the edges
I can’t sell shoes anymore
I can’t sell what I never
believed in to start with
I am done with your glass slippers
and I am done with your cause
Happy World Book Day
“The universe it made up of stories, not atoms.” -Muriel Rukeyser
We learn and grow by telling our story and hearing the stories that other have to tell. Here’s to listening and sharing.
Wuv… True Wuv
Our love is like soft serve ice cream and trust is the hard chocolate shell that keeps it from melting onto the carpet. -Homer Simpson

