stop

me as a book

2005-05-24T20:02:00.000-03:00

Charles Baudelaire: The Flowers of Evil. You are
one of the most loved and hated poetic works.
Death and decadence are important themes for
you, but none should overlook your impressive
aesthetics, either. Deep down youre not evil at
all, you just like to play the tough guy on the
block.

Which literature classic are you?
brought to you by

death throes

2005-05-13T23:55:00.000-03:00

so in the final moments of my friday the 13th birthday.. i've learned nothing and may get into even more trouble than originally planned. home early before it's even over. heard a very big secret i will keep. woke up at 4am and listened to the sounds of the biggest black cat crossing my path... another day. another year. lines leading me.

hip! hip! hor-mone!

2005-04-18T17:52:00.000-03:00

i'm fat. within 6 minutes of being home after work i managed to get bird and cat shit all over me. full moon in 5 days... great ocean shoppers... start your pendulums (origin: latin, meaning "thing hanging down"). had a lovely chat with lycradog last night. i like him because he laughs at my nonsensical fried rants of all that is hypothetical yet impossible. bravo lycradog. maybe you should try out for st. peter. " judgement? anyone? condemnation of soul? tea?"

pansy

2005-04-17T11:09:00.000-03:00

i just looked over some past blogs. man. i am a pansy. sorry about that. bobhuns would appreciate.

made up mind making up make

2005-04-17T11:04:00.000-03:00

head case sunday. i read pistolwhips blog and it made me look at and think about this being in love/ tolerating a particular person more than most - thing (in the general sex/ living together/ proposals bits). i get to weird thinking when people are in it/ can't have it/ are miserable in it. let me compare said feeling to... sticky. sticky clings, like romantic feelings. it gets over you and changes with your mood, situation etc: a/ you enjoy ("hot hot dryhumping on leatherette backseat in august" sticky) b/is annoyingly shitty and slightly painful ("loose tooth bleeding, making "sucksuck noise", it itchy, sore and clinging by 2 roots" sticky, or "fall down in dirt and razorblades after spilling blackstrap molasses over wool sweater and exposed flesh"sticky). it is much safer to not get involved. to me. period. then again i remember how comfortable, convenient, and safe companionship feels at times. i thought i had things figured out with the person i am not seeing and was satisfied with my decision and now it is buggered - again. happy anniversary specific neurosis. 1 year and going strong. huck a ring at that.
haaaalllllloooooooo????? poooooooint????? tooo annnnnnythiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing??
yesterday was reallywarm and i spent most of it in my fuckin' around hat, in the "gardens" gettin' dirty and moving garbage around. there is nothing more gratifying than moving garbage around. "good. now the garbage is here, not there. this is exactly where i wanted the garbage. well done, me". sun makes pasty flowers in the attic children tired. so i am a loser and didn't go out because i thought it would be nice to move more garbage around today. selfish, i know.
my cat has taken to eating my cousin's cat's food and chucking up unchewed yellow all over the fucking place. latest - on top of the computer (who barfs on top of a computer???? - that feeling doesn't SO quickly overtake ANYONE - besides i've seen him do his theatrical "horkhorkhorkhorkhorkhork" mantra for a good five minutes before the shit looking barf flies). he. is . a. scallywag. (cutest word ever - besides sugarsnaps - 2, i know). i want to buy a holiday snaps album today, it will be nice to move garbage around to.
today i'm having brunch with (one of) my dead ex boyfriends mothers where he used to work. it won't be bizarre. i wonder what it will be. it will be olde. and hammy. right hammy.
ben would have his 27th birthday on friday - 3 weeks before mine(buy me stuff). i will be 27. that doesn't make any sense (get yer gift on). i'm not old enough to be 27 and there are no signs of settling down ( although i couldn't really imagine myself to be going any slower). i'm going to be put out to pasture soon. then there is the snowballing towards death theory (all y'all know that one - even if you don't) (presents help).
so i smell like jasmine instead of rose as not to get stagnant in my reek and my hormones are shifting me into something that hates you for the next week or so. being alive is absolutely unbearable. i wish i was in a j-aquarium rignt now - i'm certain that black fish is actually me.

and was i ever hungover

2005-04-07T08:22:00.000-03:00

i went to work it was tolerable in a good mood and then went and got hair cut into a quasi mullet and then went downtown and had a coffee and was bitchy to a good friend and cried and yelled about a dead friend and then had 2 doubles and his mom and cousin and uncle walked in and we talked about him and then had a nother double and then beer and then yoga and now i have a bruise on my knee from my friend dropping me and then put on eyeliner and went downtown and another friend bought us lots more beer and then i got lost in the casino and my friend won $47 so we bought nachoes in our favorite seat in economy shoeshop and then came home and smoked a joint and then drank 3 green concoctions and went to bed and i will have creases on my chest because i sleep with my arms flung up over my head i should really call someone back but i don't want to. and that is the inventory of yesterday.

my cat did not die

2005-04-05T18:43:00.000-03:00

last night i dreamt that 2 people had cancer and were informing me about it's progression over the internet as i made my way across the globe to save them. one died and got away and the other way cut off when i came to damned consciousness. another day of wondering whether or not it mattered if i am happy or not.. got a crocus and a cd from a boy. the crocus died pretty fast (i should lock my hands in a box) - i felt ugly today but was charming with periods of crankass. and didn't steal. bought two bags of sugar from my roomates and have chosen to bite my tongue for now about what's pissing me off - because i don't even know if i care. am dissapointed in the opposite sex ingeneral and don't really feel that anything matters in this world of socially constructed meaning - i mean who cares about scandelous political spending like 4 years ago - we're fucked anyway. better expend energy "getting" them - i don't understand it even when i try and feel too stupid for this world, but i maybe just don't care and that makes me "feel" even sadder. but i don't care about that too. the title of this blog makes me happy.

i hate my blog

2005-04-04T21:34:00.000-03:00

i almost deleted the whole damn thing but maybe if i rekindle the romance i'll get back that lovin' (lowwwwwveeenn?) feeling (fiiiilleee-eeennee??). right. also - my cat is acting funny. if something happens to him - i quit.

media living

2005-04-04T19:02:00.000-03:00

i looked at a newspaper today from 3 days ago. that news is not news any more, but according to the laws of media as omniscient, then it is all we really knew at the time and we had no idea that it would unfold as such. if you want to cling to the past (as much as i do) - wallpaper your room and cover the windows in past issues and look at them and know nothing else and be happily oblivious to the present state of things because you don't know any better or different, according to the news.

nothing.

2005-04-02T10:29:00.000-04:00

what makes you think i didn't lie on every answer. have we met? played scrabble? if either of you had a clue you would know that it was nihilism.

p-o-s-i-t-i-v-i-t-y

2005-03-31T09:04:00.000-04:00

watched 2/3 of napoleon dynamite last night. as soon as i saw the mtv logo i knew it sucked. not that it would suck. but that it did suck. from that second. would rather listen to bone machine and get blown away (lit and met) outside in the final lurch of lion march gales. lamb... eh? i think the lamb went to bed mid month. i would rather do about 468 things than go to work today. i can feel jaques ponay's pissy pant shit mood from here. a good day isn't comin' i can wait.

give me what i don't get

2005-03-30T22:07:00.000-04:00

everyone was an asshole again today, save about 5 people. work is stupid - i need to find a way to not work and still be able to buy lots of shoes and not be bored. i'll find plenty to hate without the daily obligation to help weeping hormally manipulated harpies. haven't seen any worms or robins yet this year. i really need to have hateful sex soon. or beat up a window or wall. memememememememememememememememem
it is windy like business outside. i hope it blows away half of the population. none of the cats. all of the cars and the people who drive them so i don't have to see them on the sidewalks. none of the trees (or unseen robins and worms) not the bird wings on my back porch. not my greenbin. i hope it blows the perfect person back. i want them to show up at my door.
no cigarettes for days and days - for no real reason at all.no drugs no alcohol. no reason. seems to be a pattern when people die.
walked around in his shoes and pretended that the sounds they made were him.
what i could hear over the wind.
between tracks.
and it was fine.

i'm hating in the rain, just haaating in the rain

2005-03-29T19:45:00.000-04:00

here are some smells i thought i would remind you of/ point out to you.
silk ties, hotel pools, rain on dirt, dirty vintage bags, hospital hand squirt, formaldehyde soaked fetal pigs, bone marrow, black labs and cigarettes, old hair filled sofas, chemotherapy sweat,"outrageous" shampoo on vapid girls waiting for the school bus, armpits after curry, the inside boys ball caps, shinpads. those are some of my favorites and not favorites. today was knowing who my friends are, wondering if some are at all, meeting new ones, being mildly pissed off and indifferent, and trying to generally get the fuck over "it" - it being a myriad of things. and very wet. it is raining like fuck. people are stupid assholes and i want to go and live on a goat farm.
i'm sorry i have a sailor's mouth and don't dress my age. but i'm not too - i don't care.
i'm not going to vancouver for the wake. that is fine. it doesn't matter and i won't stress about it any more because no matter what - he is dead - so no matter. i will go when i am in a better mood. i love my turntable. i hate the phone. i hate finishing crosswards. i hate my body. i hate wet garbage. i hate snotty customers who do their fucking hair with a cookie cutter (available at most downtown trendy overpriced salons featuring minimalist photography, blonde hardwood interior, silver detailing, and the token frost and tip gay guy with squarish thick black rimmed glasses - "hey stop [not] looking at me like you are a prettier girl at the prom asshole! and your intentional bought worn jeans are a little last year outside of this shantytown dump, e-bay slut!")
i am apparently cranky - so maybe i'm back.

p.s. i hate my hair the most. more then death. no shit.

we hit the snow. the snow and me.

2005-03-25T08:28:00.000-04:00

good friday. i woke up and my cat was asleep at my feet. this could be any morning for he last 5 years - whether or not there was someone in my bed with me. things don't change. the sky is blue in spots with soft whipped clouds. without him here? i need go out for some of this innocent air before the afternoon and people get hold of the day. all that has happened in the last few weeks i'm not sure if they happened at all. he died with my hands around him and his eyes would not close when i stayed with him. see the snow? mom didn't like that and the family ran upstream, out through the door. i'm going to stay until you hold my hand back. thankyou. i'm taking your toothbrush. his body was so small, made smaller into ashes, ashes. your burnt tattoo. here's a rose, i cut myself first, and your cowboy boots have a hole in them. stop laughing at my wet head because i may in charge of some of your body and i have not lost my sense of humour. you loved it, too. i'll need it for the east and west war over you.
i am not a widow and there is no orphan, like your tattoo said- but who will beat the grey beast?
i could get lost in the snow from the winter. i can happily be buried in the snow from the winter.i can be happy with the virgins and messiahs, and nothing but olives.

fuck this

2005-03-20T12:34:00.000-04:00

stolen culling song

2005-03-18T19:55:00.000-04:00

and now it seems so odd to me that I believed in anything,will this winter hold let go in spring?Becoming more than how I'm viewing everything.This is what you've been planning on?Say you want to know what been going on.Can't you tell?we always are falling apart

tripping and kicking

2005-03-08T20:42:00.000-04:00

a raging core of fire there inlies.

2005-02-28T20:02:00.000-04:00

i am sick and it hurts and burns tight in the centre of my head where my nose mouth and ears meet.

stupid dreams come true

2005-02-17T21:45:00.000-04:00

yeah and i fuck things up again. yeah and someone's mom is intense and i feel deeper in things than they could possibly be. i feel shallow. all in all a busy fucking week. bullshit rep meetings. romantic stress. family guilt. personal irresponsibility. hospital. hospital. hospital. but things on the friendship front are good. mind you it seems as if noone can be mad at me because they feel sorry for me. i hate slipping into self pity but its easy to get out when i know it's not bad at all.
and then i got a reality check and can't get sucked down. time to listen to everyone else.

in a nutblog....

2005-02-16T23:07:00.000-04:00

this general period sucks. it is angstier than angst ridden years of adolescence. it is teeming with pressure, disillusionment, insecurity and loss. all of my relationships with the opposite sex are fucked.

snips and snails and puppydog tails

2005-02-16T07:56:00.000-04:00

i didn't go to the hospital last night. i came home and drank alot of wine and everyone said goodbye to morgan. i dreamt all night that i was taking care of a swan who had a huge slice taken from it's throat and i kept fucking up.

can't stop what's coming can't stop what's on its way

2005-02-15T19:18:00.000-04:00

now she seems to be sand under his shoe
there's nothing i can do

love and suction

2005-02-14T07:32:00.000-04:00

yesterday i syphoned my ex boyfriend's bile through a 5 foot tube for an hour and a half.
it sounds like a bitter girl's valentine's dream come true.

breakthrough

2005-02-12T00:28:00.000-04:00

it is friday night and i am exhausted. not as exhausted as someone i know even though i'm sure he is still in a drug induced sleep. i have been so fortunate so far as not to have had seen someone i love hooked up to living by wires and i can't imagine what they are and are not feeling.
when i went last night he was awake and we laughed and i moved him and his things around the room where dozens have died. i doubt their ghosts stuck around because i looked and couldn't find any - maybe they are in bean's cup - besides there are better places to haunt. he ate a grape and was sick for an hour and a half. i moved his legs because he can't. i wiped buckets of water that he can't reach from his head and neck that can't find the way to his mouth. i adjusted the tube of piss and cleaned up piles of books from well wishers. we're all wishing.
i left when the nurses came to put him to sleep. then i walked through coldcold rain and caught a bus on which i decided to buy a pack of cigarettes. the man at my corner store gave me a picture of the virgin he took in lebanon. he said i didn't need to be baptised and if i had good in my heart, then i was in the heart of "the lord". i didn't have to say a thing - except which pack i wanted.
when i went back tonight i watched him sleep through a tube for an hour. i left mary there with him to do whatever he needed done.

still

2005-02-09T23:08:00.000-04:00

it's still hard, but it is getting easier. such are weeks.

is this desire?

2005-02-02T20:38:00.000-04:00

i feel fire light itself under my mudsunk heels and the resolution from the dregs of 2003 echoes.

you go about things the wrong way

2005-01-31T20:01:00.000-04:00

when i woke up my chest felt terrible and i didn't feel good enough for anything in this world. i was up too late listening and smoking too much and slept closely with a cat. when i stood out of bed, i was so close to falling down. i can't see properly anymore. work was awful and my dad was wonderful. now i am home and i am listening to the morrissey show i went to. someone i haven't seen for a while dropped off to me. i can't remember, i'm trying to remember that i was there. then i go downstairs and there is the crib board that he stole for me.

surface tension

2005-01-30T20:59:00.000-04:00

everyone in the family seems to have their true words sealed up in an envelope in their chest cavities. things unwritten and unsaid and unsent. the broken teeth of slight forced smiles lies in several uneven piles, scattered over a section of the world. my grandmother is worried and the childrens' fingers are still too small to try to put them on what they can't see or poke at behind buttoned lips. i can't reach anyone to pull them up from under the january snow. i feel too tired to dive past the ice floes without hitting my head if i were to try to cut the surface of the still waters. i want to start fixing my lungs - not dive so deep that they explode. it's too cold and i'm not ready.
i was in the country for the weekend and shared a bed with my mother. her body was warm and the air outside of the yak wool blanket wasn't, so i was content, although 9 mg of melatonin was needed to suffer through the sleep noises she makes. i woke early and watched my aunt sleep with the cat, and listening to my cousin cough and roll over through the thin walls. i wrote and read, and read about writing and the chickadees were dive bombing the feeder. the dog that was the moat around the ramshakled kingdom is gone, so we were all a little vulnerable. but our mothers bravely mounted the roof and beat the ice off of it while we rolled our eyes, drank coffee and slid comfortably into the infinite wisdom of our adolescent years.
i have thought alot about wedding dresses over the last few days but my grandmother and aunts have all thrown them all away. i want mine to be made from an old lace curtain then, and have perfect fingernails and smooth hair. a looped cookie cutter short film for the little girl trapped beneath the slime swamp surface of my caustic humour. my aunt asked me what was under there, anyway.
"why do you hide behind......?"
on the drive back to the city i made a small pillow bed in the backseat, and didn't speak. instead of watching the countryside i thought about home, and wished that we made time so we could drive out and look at my house and beach and woods. when i got here i put on a black slip and had a scorching salt water bath in the dark and thought about having children and a home. then i thought maybe all i really wanted was sex. i sat in the dark until these thoughts and water got cold.
now i'm thinking thought about my grandfather's ashes in the closet and all the dogs that died in the country. i wonder if my grandmother remembers every day and if she ever stares at nothing, trying to will them back. i wonder how the women in my family feel about love, and if they remember and hope for it during the moments when they turn into their pillows to smother another day. i hope they quiet their thoughts with warm bedding so they can finally sleep.

lily livered

2005-01-28T01:25:00.000-04:00

today was a series of blood boiling spikes and esteem floggings. nerosis reaching a high of plus ten, with desperate conversational flurries. high continuing into the evening with a soul chill of minus 7, followed by periods of tummy butterflies.
for tomorrow; partly melancholy followed by a 60% chance of guilt in late afternoon.
weekend forecast; high pressure system in several areas of the province, ending in hysterical showers, with a low typical of sundays bringing cumulation of good intentions.

shhhhhh. don't say peep.

2005-01-26T22:25:00.000-04:00

i bought a bag of livers today and wrote a story about the untimely death of three rabbits.
tomorrow i'll eat the livers and write a story about the well timed death of three girls.
the next day i'll poison my liver and tear up the pages of both of the stories.

too torn hearts

2005-01-25T22:23:00.000-04:00

all of the january tears of my sisters' have frozen in a drift in my backyard. it has broken the screen and is pressed against the pane.

lovely eek

2005-01-25T20:07:00.000-04:00

i swear that the full moon is using my breath to hold itself up in the sky tonight. i can't seem to catch it - it's up high and out of reach. too bad there isn't a piss warm tidepool full of pointy stars and shells and underneath the covers of my bed, where i feel like spending forever as wetsand tonight. or i could make a semblance and mess out of the bathtub and finally get some sleep.
when people in halifax talk about the snowstorms they hold up their fingers to me to show me how many there were, as if i have just cleared the snow from my face and couldn't discern the snowfall from the weight welling up in my eyes. tears and oceans don't freeze so the cumulative effect makes perfect sense. even though all i can think of is water and birds when i sit down to type and am feeling numb it's all of the snow that has fallen in around us all. it's got things on ice that i can cope with in the cruelest month when it all melts away and i remember all the people i killed in januarys and want to hit my head. when it's cold and things get colder and scarcer i guess i would rather eat my young than starve. that is nature, and regret is a warning sign of emotional bulimia. that, and lots of dirty clouded spoon handles scattered on the floors.
here's how today really went:
i saw a lady who hid her mouth from me and she made me laugh and poked fun and wagged a warning gloved finger at my heart. i flirted and bummed backrubs from all of the girls and offered my mittens to 4 dogs for sniffing. i read morrissey lyrics in the globe and mail. i thought about what my friend should do with her mouse. i thought about being pregnant. i thought of running away to pretend somewhere for the rest of my life. pretending here is pointless because everyone knows everything about. i remembered the time i stole a hammer from a pizza joint and got caught and lied and gave it to my boyfriend for his birthday. i thought about working less. i thought myself in circles, cycles, opposites and mirrors. and everything looks the same.

stars and scenes

2005-01-23T13:16:00.000-04:00

i loved the music last night. someone with red hair was closing his eyes and trying to hold my hand in a crowd. i didn't mind. there was one performer i didn't get to see and would have liked to, and i lost my egg almost immediately, but i wanted to be alone-ish in a way last night. on the way home, walking by myself, there was a woven mist of white wrapped loosely around the moon. it was getting warmer and it the earth and the sky were both getting ready for a snow they can't hold.
now it's morning and they are fighting over where to put it. when it all falls the moon will reign as princess and i will be the pea with the snow between us.

do i ever need self motivation.

2005-01-22T19:49:00.000-04:00

saturday afternoon on the prettiest winter day yet. very robert bateman out there. worked the morning and it was so. cold. i had tiny iceburgs floating in my eyes and some one has beat me about the cheeks and brow with a mostly frozen hand. i imagine that i could have chipped away my thighs into neat pucks resembling canned ham. then i saw my father which is a constant painful reminder of constant pain. constant pain = mental nausea and vertigo from spinning constantly in directions of potential, scanning thenonexistent horizon for i have no idea.
how can it be that i am seasick in a stagnant swamp?
the worst part about the neurosis is the delusional notions that leave one in an extreme "flight" mode. there is no "fight or", you just want to get out of the mind hold trap, as fast as you can. and one does not hesitate to chew one's own ego off to do so.
it's like a "fat" mirror. you know the reflection of yourself is distorted and it's no fault of your own that you appear to be so undesirable. in fact you are happy in knowing the you appear better to others than you look to yourself. "it is better to look good than to feel good".
well the only logical thing to do now is put on my first smiths. and feel that flicker of guilt for eating meat again. i can think about listening to it in bed late at night, curled up tight, not in flight.
i just noticed a sudden shift of the sun which led me to look out the window and it is pretty.

peer pressure

2005-01-22T01:01:00.000-04:00

if i didn't love those two bitches so much i would be happier to not freeze my interstitial fluid.

snowblog

2005-01-21T00:13:00.000-04:00

i love real winters. i love snow. it is the type that smells like water freezing. it smells like ice when you lie down on a pond near the edge where grass is blown flat and caked with pretty little white drifts of snow. it smells like tying up skate laces.

13 broken mirrors

2005-01-19T01:43:00.000-04:00

so......
an attractive, recent graduate from a massage program walks into a health store. he walks up to a girl and says "you must be -----". "indeed i am", she replies". "well i'm ---- and i work with ----- at -----point clinic", says he. "the reason i'm here is to arrange a free hour long treatment, so you have a better idea of what i do when you make massage referrals". "this is the best thing that has ever happened to me" she thought aloud while scanning the steel beams overhead to make sure that one was poised to snap and crush her skull, knocking her dead to the floor, causing her entrails to splatter the shoes of this man-gel.
punchline: one wasn't

bel-seb and the snowhoeg

2005-01-18T00:07:00.000-04:00

so much for the snow day although getting out of the house and listening to "me and the major" while bounding through the snow is one of my new favorite wintertime activities. it reminds me of the snowday between xmas and the new year, on my way to a lovely "ball" after a morning... and afternoon in bed. the guilt of not going to work was also relieved. sweet sweet guilt relief. i hate my job right now but i guess it's not really so bad and if i can get some other things on my plate then it may even be bearable - especially if i can work less. working for other people is for chumps. all i have left to do today is figure out my destiny. i may also grab some dvds and bound over to the house of snoot for tea and complaining. i woke up at 2 am and the snow was silent and perfect and i had beer and salmon for breakfast. everyone else in the house is suffering from sickness, so this rat is sneaking off of the ship.

should i stay or should i go?

2005-01-17T11:18:00.000-04:00

i enjoy a good drink

2005-01-16T22:08:00.000-04:00

You are a RSYT--Reserved Sentimental Physical Taker. This makes you a Brute.You are volatile, stormy and incredibly sexy. You have a hungry, fascinating way about you. You are a riot when you're happy and a menace when you're angry. You are strangely appealing to your target sex, and they find themselves drawn in despite their wiser instincts. In your professional life, your type makes you a star, a force to be reckoned with, and the one people trust when they have a problem that's beyond them. In a relationship, you are a bull in a china shop, and if your partner isn't clever s/he may get plowed down. I could warn you to be more communicative with and sensitive to your partner, but that's just not going to happen. You don't ask much of your significant other, so you have no tolerance for high demands on you. For you, it's either love it or leave it. You work hard and play hard. You enjoy a good drink. You have had many lovers and will have many more. People try and fail to get you into bed. They want you for a friend and fear you as an enemy. This may not sound too flattering, but the truth is that because you know yourself so well you're happier in a relationship than most everybody else.

i am far away on a tundra somewhere

2005-01-16T18:52:00.000-04:00

i'm wearing grey and listening to sigur ros- it sounds like i thought iceland would look when i was a child. i'm half looking out of the window and heard a child scream and laugh and a dog bark once. i'm hoping that it is me and my dog somewhere cold playing where noone knows what i'm saying and we're forgetting all about here. i'm filth and i can't bring myself to get into the bath and i'm sick of sad.
the sun has been burning a lazy yellow-white wound in the otherwise frozen sky, for two days now and probably another thousand that i have noticed before. a rancid egg yolk in a steel pan on a stove that hasn't worked for a long time. i was awake for hours before the sun came up this morning being really impatient and scared. i woke up hot and fell asleep cold.
i have a really good friend. she indulges me on these shit days. she's really patient and can see better than me. she gives me coffee and tea and beer and date stuffed buns that taste like perfume. then i left her and i feel empty because there is noone around and it is one of those days where you just won't go away and you want you to because you hate you right now. i think the buns seemed perfumed because there is certainly a bad taste in my mouth. it replaced the taste of something sweet i've been drinking. sweet in a way i couldn't remember.
i feel painted into a corner. again. one decorated with flowers and notes and music and christmas presents not yet given. i decided to just walk out through the paint - leaving stains (telltale signs that you were painted into a corner and maybe even deservedly so - if you were hanging out in that corner in the first place.)
when cornered, you might attack or you might run away. i like to play dead because things get broken when you panic if someone comes too close to you wielding a bristled weapon of a distressing colour. it looks crimson, and they the type to strike with a warning only your intuition can provide. back and forth, methodically with stoic intent. when someone doesn't make eye contact with you, how are you supposed to know that their intention is to paint you in rather than help you make the space beautiful? there is nothing beautiful in this room. no sunbeams. no friends. just someone left finishing their replacement of me with a colour they have chosen and the retreating steps of a coward.

today did not fucking suck

2005-01-15T20:55:00.000-04:00

i have a fish bone lodged in my throat. it's soft but certainly sideways.
i have a thorn in my side too. or maybe my paw because i feel a little crippled.
i lit my african violet on fire by mistake. the roots were ignited by inscense. i threw it into the snow and there were sparks like a streamer. i didn't smell a thing for hours.
i swept feathers and dust out from under most things in my room today. it was much nicer than yesterday. playing records always makes a day nice - like it is 10 years ago and everyone loves you. i talked to people i love today, but not everyone. downtown was nice. i ran into a curly patch of lavender and spoke pleasantly about small things. i had three perfect cups of coffee and plan to plant an amarylis (that i will not set alight) and draw a portrait and sleep deep.
the day was so calm in sky and music and intentions maybe i'll let the bone stay in my throat.

today fucking sucked

2005-01-15T01:47:00.000-04:00

today fucking sucked.

snow ball

2005-01-10T22:46:00.000-04:00

the belief system that built itself around me is begining to crumble beneath the hot, beating truth. in places, actually - alot of the fallacy has remained intact, and will survive me.
the snow isn't fluffy at all. i push pills. nothing ever looks good.
people are fucked.
lalalalalalalala.

it's just a silly phase i'm going through

2005-01-10T01:01:00.000-04:00

when we lived the the house together we would mostly take turns getting coffee and green drinks for each other in bed in the mornings. i had the advantage of being demanding and pouty, so i generally lounged while he spoiled me.
he knew how to do everything right.
when he was lazy his approach was more like tossing violently and kicking the wall, until i threw the covers back in frustration to boil the water in the kettle he insisted i leave the whistle on because he liked the way it sounded.
wow, i was happy and it felt safe, and linear, and like the proper way the "rest of your life" would unfold had we the ability to truely navigate our lives. my cat and him became best friends - my lap was used merely for brief moments of sentimentality - but the grey beast decided to spend the rest of with him. he deserves moss... he ran to him and everybody then found out how sick he really was.
now everybody is sitting around hoping, or assuming, or denying. he can't really walk. sometimes he can't talk - he doesn't make sense - and the suffering is rippling through everyone's consciousness. i just talked to him and realize that there is a stable fluidity well and far below the skipping surface.
even though our house is torn down and our favorite tree and some small creatures were killed.......... we are still here.
*******************
we were laying on a bed with christmas lights and a cup of tea & conversation between us
"...that's where i learned that love is transient" i said
"how can you say that???.... everything is transient" he responded.
then he probably kissed me, but if so, it only lasted for a moment.... and the memory has left me.
*******************************************************
i am terrified to let someone know where i am hoarding the eggs from the foxes. wiley creatures who will admire my flight patterns and then steal from my nest.
I am a little dove and the world feels covered with water tonight. I can't find an olive branch.

underneath the covers

2005-01-08T16:47:00.000-04:00

flying feathers are drifting little brown ghosts that nicely haunt with a floating warmth of which i was half out of breath in for a little while. i like the things that make my lungs hurt.
lungs are the organs of despair.
my stomach feels like it is a five lane highway for bunny rabbits. white and soft is where i want to be so i understand why heaven is always painted the way it is and why people want to get there.
i don't know where my parents are. my father is somewhere where the ripples of destructive waters are touching the beaches. my mother is somewhere breathing dirt, meat, flies and shit with a drunk lover. maybe they are both happy.
most of the time i think that my sisters aren't scared of anything and i wish i could be brown and golden too. maybe they are both happy.
but i am black and white and red in a new spot and maybe i am happy too. but i miss so many people today.
that is what love is i suppose - missing - (slightly, by a hair, acutely, desperately, with frustration, trying again)

once bitten, twice smitten

2005-01-05T01:22:00.000-04:00

"my" cat has finally fallen in love with me and is spinning circles around my feet every morning.
she's my gemini right now though i am firmly in the planets of taurus. mind you, the taurus is always firm - that's why there are so few that are true. tomorrow i might change but not back into anything.
i felt a deep sadness for a good part of today - sadness and the echoes of loss bounced back of the walls of my boxy universe so i went to buy fruit from around the world and smelled all of those from thailand. poor thailand. i cradled your durian to the confusion of the piano man.
water walls dented the population, but it never seems to happen to us meanies.
i am wondering about those in england tying up their sneakers. people cracking eggshells in mexico. sand blowing all over and rain and animal noises in the small pockets where noone can hear their wise reports of distress. they know more.
i am not lost in all of this. hesitating to even poise to dive, and need to transplant my stems in something other than my own ideals. i should plant myself in nature all over this globe - it's my mind hanging around the neck of an albatross in this neck of the too familier woods.
time to get lost and scared.
am i going to make the same mistake in my own universe all over again?

so fucking cute

2005-01-03T23:09:00.000-04:00

today i helped the local celebrities with their bronchitis and their dog's cataracts. i cleaned alot and made a fool of myself juggling bottles. silly girl. silly silly girl.
dammit.
everyone is trying to keep their promise to themselves but don't understand that it doesn't really matter at all. i tried to explain that love is transient and was reminded that everything is transient. life suddenly bleeds out the colour of what once was. like a mini zen garden or etch a sketch.
....so through the artificial sand and mini shards of magnetic fodder i trudge, looking for myself in what has already been erased.
i am so happy right now in this spot where some cherry stains remain.

things have changed

2005-01-02T17:43:00.000-04:00

the new year has a different feeling of renewal than the autumn does. it is like a shift without the clear motivation crisp air and hard light bring about. it is easier to change when not up to one's neck in chocolate, noise makers, shed clothing and cherry pits.
the season of excuses is over and now the cusp of temporary reality (which is january)
is passing like fast liquid. i guess pissing would be the proper term then. everything gets pissed away in the end or pissed on. or pissed off.
i resolve to be more positive this year.

i am freezing

2004-12-26T15:41:00.000-04:00

boxing day. sunday. no oil. barely any fingers in fact. less blood in them. or cold blood. certainly not blue blood. i definately represent the reptilian more so than the aristocratic.
running around the outside of house in a slip with a cordless phone certainly amused the elderly neighbors.
i have stockpiled canned goods for the xmas holidays (prepared for emergencies, always).
unfortunatly my non perishables always seem to be cans of worms and it's not that cold.

this isn't really me. these words start out right but then i remember that here is the spot where i am seen and i guess i want to be because i write

2004-12-20T01:03:00.000-04:00

i broke all of my nails and my cousin's dog died. she walked out into the backyard next to a woodpile and died there. she walked out and laid down and died. there is nothing where she was.earlier i walked along the harbour on a greasy wharf and looked across at the other side. there were dark spots where i imagine trees to be growing by the hospital where i used to stare across at this yellow side at night. i remember writing how the colour of the lights thrown against the sky struck me. it was something like butterscotch when i close my eyes and see it like it's now.

(the water was smooth and the deepest dark blue and grey. undulating silken carpet with the waste of the city swept beneath.)

when i finished i turned and walked down a 1749 cobbled alley between golden trees. it was empty and i walked through it and a photographer took a picture of me kissing a branch. that felt different than the rest of the day. it felt nothing like christmas though. the city was warm and wet and i can never decide what to do when i don't have to be doing anything. i can't decide whether to have a cigarette. i can't decide whether or not to detach my fingers from these keys at all. let's talk about something else. let's think about something else.

.......like tomorrow on this yellow side of the water

the importance of my dead body

2004-12-19T17:57:00.000-04:00

it is december and it is rainy. the dimness i was hoping for isn't here. the darkness of winter is a myth. it is perfectly light outside. perhaps the water is providing enough reflection to amplify this uncharacteristic light. i am left with the elements out of balance. i am not "cozy".
i don't feel like having a fire but i want one. now. i want wood and fire.
i don't want a watery death. watery grave. float. sink. float. how often do you think about drowning? i hear that's where you can get the ultimate sensation of peace. of course you would have to convince yourself to not swim towards light and air. make a deal to remain below the surface. the bridge is handy to here but if you jump from too high to gain enough depth - just in case you don't have yourself convinced - then you will probably pass out and miss the whole thing. also, if you don't get romantically whisked out into the sea then there is the very good chance that you will not be suitable for an open casket. what's the point in dying tragically unless you are beautiful for the mourners? bloat and bruising simply will not do.
water traps air. and me.
a house on fire in the winter. seeing as i sleep with burning candles fequently - it's slightly likely. dumping vinyl and cats out of the windows won't buy me much time for escape and floorboards will be too hot for running on. choke on smoke, melt my pelt and then there would be no remains and i'm not photogenic. no collapsing church table photo shrines thanks- my beautiful corpse is my only means of conjuring the wailing and bottomless desire i would like to think that my absence would provoke.
fire devours air. and wood. and me.
metal is clean but stabbings are rare and often not fatal. likely again as i tend to walk late and alone and sometimes even drunk. if they botched the job i would just look foolish limping and if they do hit the fatal spot chances are it will be in an undesirable setting (think gas station, dumpster and greasy gum spots). all of the dead primp in the world won't compensate for the vision of yourself slumped in a pool of your own shit with mouth agape and filled with metallic, salty clotted purple. death by stabbing is not the most desirable DIY activity either.
metal brings metal to air.
the only safe place really is under the earth. and one way or another the other elements will get us there.
this was going to be about the festive season. but i got lost.

worth

2004-12-09T01:05:00.000-04:00

dear conceptual diary,

i don't get paid enough to feel people's glands.
i don't deserve so many presents.
i don't know who to work for.
i appreciate the flattery.
i look like a slob.
i now need to.
sleep lots.
and.
write some.
can't really think.
don't want to eat food.
all i want is music in my head.
and something nice to wear at night.
so keep loving and hating and buying me.
stuff and hugs and long talks or nothing at all.

so i wrote that with about a quarter of my brain engaged. was talking on the other electromagnetic emitting device which probably explains the mental lapses i experience now and then, and then, and that other time, and right now.

1/"if it missed your brainstem, you'd be laughing" (on a woman involved in a rather unfortunate accident)
2/"this tastes like a wet dog smells" (on shrunken granola bars)
3/"your prostate is important to me because i need you to have beautiful dark children with" (to co-worker drinking sprite)
4/"well you look healthy but you sound....... nothing" (to a customer with laryngitis)
5/ i would work that green dress" (on a green dress that i would, most certainly, "work")

god knows i'm ready,
em-tertain-ily popsocksicles

wonders never cease

2004-11-16T20:34:00.000-04:00

so.......... the sympathetic adrenal exhaustion mentioned yesterday was from a woman splattered on newspaper pages across the country. not literally though. if you read the articles you can imagine the stress seeping from her. imagine the hours of labour.
work ws god although i did find something to stress about today - although i've commited myself to not worrying about it.
had coffee with a friend and then indulged in some canadian humour with some more. this city is cold tonight. 5x30=150 more days roughly of this. yeeks. i like it when the air is still. which it isn't now. filled the kitchen with chili smoke upon return. busy busy busy. this is my guilty pleasure alone time right now. quickie. tomorrow to the land of nod, stay awake and schmooze.
.....and on.

heave a sigh

2004-11-15T18:39:00.000-04:00

i think my pace, each footstep, is rhythmically faster than my heartbeat. probably not, but it's hard counting 2 things at once. i can however, manage to not step on the sidewalk cracks and change a cd at the same time. my talent becomes apparent. i am poor but managed to buy 2 different versions of the same single. p-r-i-o-r-i-t-i-e-s.
i am home and out of the various elements filling the city from harbour to cloudcover. the wind hurt my ear and the rainsnow curled my hair. my arms are shaking and have been since 4:30- bad case of sympathic endrocrine exhaustion.
i was hoping to toss some mental confetti tonight but will sink into a bath of milk honey and roses instead. a tiny baptism in waters of queens and a tiny death in the arms of sleep. such is the life when subjected to the punishment of this weather blown from the briny ocean tossed. tiny life cycles. over and over and over again. tomorrow and the tomorrow after that.
here we will all be again, keep the time with metronomic footsteps and heartbeats.

waste and empty is the sea

2004-11-14T19:57:00.000-04:00

i spent the second day of the first storm of my twenth sixth year in bed with dead authors. i feel these men speak the truth of things like no others. they begin on a perfect level of neutrality and do not ignore. they identify the unsightly. they allude to images and tales which do not even exist and are pristine. they embrace and reject at once, our flawed human condition.
i am in love with this.
it was then but it is still.
their landscapes are harsh and the alternating wet and solid precipitation beating my biscuit box house to a shamble of shingles brings their words to all of my senses. dirty beaches with squeaking shells are sprawled out for miles in the gutter outside of my bedroom - sagging and groaning under the weight and force of the elements. their disgust with the characters they have themselves rendered reminds me of all my own failed art, like the tea i have overbrewed. the bitterness of the concentrated tannins has the roof of my mouth drawn tightly and roughly like the elbow pads one would expect prufrock to patch his shameful coat with.
a dead dog will appear. a dead girl has dissapeared. and i am neutral too.
waste and empty is the sea.....
like the half of my stark bedding which has not given shelter for either sleep or lust to another's body. i
my melancholy hatches in these nests of sentiments and concepts.
it was hatched across the ocean to where i was, before i was me.
and there were once only parts of this emily.

chances aren't

2004-11-07T12:03:00.000-04:00

i tried to get myself off in the bathtub and couldn't. i looked in the mirror for about half an hour to look at me and see me and i'm still here. here i'll stay but things are going to change. i was a drunk bird the morning after hallowe'en and lost my flock. things are going to change. one bird has just flown back into the nest and one egg fell. changing myself is hard to do i had to examine my raw materials. i had a cigarette and now i'm ill.
all of halifax seemed to be drunk last night. lots of dancing and drinking and love was all around. i feel bad today about it. i should have slept but didn't and here i am and i'm still not sleeping. my bed is clean and heavenly. perhaps i'll strap my wings on and lie down in it.
why can't i just stop. because maybe i'm scared if i do i'll die.
but i probably won't.

spooky sparrow.....

2004-10-29T08:56:00.000-03:00

it think for my costume i'm going to lay in a pile of leaves for about 65 minutes and whatever clings to me and my black wings wll be my disguise so i wil be one of 3 things
-a bird hit by a car
-a bird half eaten and/or pissed on by a canine
- frozen dead bird with beetles and twigs and all
............ but i don't want to be a bird at all.

em-ptiest potential

2004-10-27T22:25:00.000-03:00

i carved a pumpkin and it looked dreadful. i was embarrassed but put in my place for being hasty. swept alot of things i didn't want to say under black vodka and kept eyes firmly planted on the tiles. i wish i could hear people when they remind me where i am and i wish i could remember the directions.
i also wish i carved the coolest pumpkin... and never dissapointed anyone ever...

my body is behind glass

2004-10-26T19:00:00.000-03:00

........... not nearly as glamorous as it sounds. i'm now a guilty consumer of flesh, and although i've maintained that i've never been vegan - i long for the purer days. even though my body is thriving (my acid mantle is...and then some) something else is shrinking in this sudden shift of pH. at present - i hate my own guts and would sell them, for i'm tired of being poor, although my bravery in the face of banks i owe money to was noble in a shit of the chicken kind of way. I even owe to dead accounts. How can I run away unfunded? Not desperate enough yet I guess.
OK Jack here we go....I'll take all my problems and rip them apart.........

i'm sad about his sickness but can't muster acceptance
i'm sad for my own irresponsibility at this age
i'm sad for carelessness with other's feelings
i'm better with houseplant watering schedules than with relationships
my hair sucks (my problems lie in my curls)
my health sucks/i'm a hypocrite
i miss my cat
i hate being on the phone with 2.5 people (which i am)
i hate losing everything (which i do)
i hate not being in ireland (which i'm not)
i hate myself for whining - but unsecretly love whining

however... i have good friends, a lukewarm bed, no fleas, and a steady income (albeit - an insulting one). i also got to see morrissey and would like to attribute my vertigo to a sickness due to immaculate conception.

i'm going to change all of this . i've started. i'm impatient and want to roll my head in manure rather than step in anymore autumn concealed dogshit.
so thank you mr. gillis. i need to be like the squirrels - preferably of the large grey variety. look out for me lycra-d.
p.s. i'm fine.

my biggest mistake

2004-10-03T12:55:00.000-03:00

i think that ink stole all of the words i had to say.
it will have to remain a secret until i lose my diary.
my niece just walked in and the guilt throbs, and i can't stop about thinking about what all i never should have done. i'm really sorry but you can't hear because you never learned how - i stole that from you and wonder why. thinkg happen. this is all so long ago so let's stick to now. thankyou everyone. i'm working on me. promisepromisepromise

totally isolated

2004-10-01T20:40:00.000-03:00

i lost my shit - literally not metaphorically - although i almost did when i tried to get killed by a paddy wagon on crack corner and threw my faux dead raccoon in a puddle. dammit dammit. not too pleased with myself. got totally dissed by the thorn in my side. hate my body hair face life. hate stealers and then promptly stole today. i have no cards no phone no music (although that was remedied by a savior) trying to cry but get too stoned and the eyes don't function properly at best. had a bath in a vanilla milkshake (sans cow runoff) after 48 hours with 5.7845 of them actually sleeping. laughed with bean and she helped ease the pain i've brought about myself over the last few days. 11 days until Morrissey - i hope he can bring about the tsunami of emotions in a drippy liquid form and spill it on toronto soil. i'll be there if you see me kiss me sweetly on the head. i'll accept your random love. don't call me. because you can't. i don't really exist right now although i'm sure the people i owe know exactly where i am. i'm so sorry to you and me.

inkling

2004-09-23T21:47:00.000-03:00

i've discovered that the joke isn't funny anymore.
i have been cooked for 36 consecutive days. no big/ small feat. that would make me tender - you'd imagine.
But, instead i have a bad case of mutton hear.. The heart shard soup of summer is finished. No more dirty spilling of dirty guts, no more knee deep sticky guilt. Fresh yellow/orange winds are washing it all away. I miss 2 boys very much and of course the third and have a yellow square house where my body breathes as if it has found "home" - a sturdy lilypad anyway.
I spent one of my best days in a caffeine driven tour of swans, graves, turtles and diaramas.
pull your comfortsad scarf even tighter to you own neck and hold on for..........

fall is your morning after

2004-08-22T18:52:00.000-03:00

you all went out and overdid it and in states of giddy, hopeful, repressive and melancholy drunkeness you've gone and pitched your hearts into the tar pit mess that is left after the summer has heated up the air and your loins and feelings. i remember the sheer pleasure in watching your own fall, and craning necks and tip toes to see how big a splash yours can make. when you sober up you'll find a messy hole in your chest and head that are going to stink and fill with flies in hours.
but check out the view from here. late summer is a big looming beast whose fur is matted with very bad things. it hurts and will death roll your logic and vulnerabilities and in the final throes then you'll see all that it has done to you and you didn't mean anything but the heat makes you crazy, you know. they say.
don't worry i know what to do and i've known you and this creature from before. kick him off (he'll be fine) and hold for september when the air and indian light will cool this sick stew and we'll pick out our toughened hearts out and pat them neatly back into place for each other. i managed to hang onto mine - this year - but i'm willing to help you put yours back. tell me when it's in the right spot and i'll secure it with a kiss. you don't have to say a thing.
with love and apologies from your friend

parts of something written not by me but for me

2004-08-20T10:29:00.000-03:00

girl

don't have much to say about today...i bought some music, some books and a dvd. bought you a morrissey single...most rewarding when you were lying on the futon with your eyes closed smiling. still a little sore that you made me watch moz shake his fingers in the air and twirl his mic chord...but whatever. I may have to call an old friend to give me some crib pointers....am slightly concerned you will start feeling unchallenged with my game. it was pretty fucking funny when that dude went and got that massive fuckin' crib board...it looked like something i would've made in grade 9 wood shop. playing crib was good and made me think about liverpool ( i think the first 6 hours with you was the best...though the ocean dip was very awaking)

(then there were some things i took away)

Have to do laundry tomorrow.....and now it's raining...shall look out window and fall asleep.

Boy

there's no home for me here

2004-08-19T20:22:00.000-03:00

i have a house. it's yellow and in the north.

i haven't had a house since ... well i never really did. i lived in a house once where a bathtub was rotting through the ceiling of the kitchen. I lived there with 3 boys (one of which I was under the self imposed impression/ assumption that i was in love with. However I've realized since, that love is intangible, unattainable, and most of all transient.)
i can't believe the bastards have the nerve to put it in the fucking dictionary.

i've chosen to try to ignore this pathetically visceral, and overblown emotional concept like i would a aching phantom limb.

my new home is where my heart is, i'll lock the windows and doors lest it slip into the greasy hands of a mere mortal.

why make one man happy when you can make so many miserable

2004-08-16T23:59:00.000-03:00

hello bunny,

even though i was nostalgic for my loves the last 8 days i am happy again that i'm alone and only wish one of them wasn't gone. that'e because i've reserved myself for to pine for the elusive, exotic, and dead.

as far as sex goes... it's at my fingertips if i only stand in a chair.

there are people fucking like crazy right above my head.
smacksmacksmack
heads or tails
squeaksqueaksqueak
flip the nickel. beaver up. it sounds like no fun at all.

i think my cousin is home puking too. i just left her standing in the doorway. i had nothing to do with it - the blond cherub siblings and cousins aren't shedding angel virgin dust you know.

the best (and i mean it) thing about the city is the reflection of gas station lights in puddles on a night where it is warm enough that getting you hair wet from pissing rain doesn't make you want to freeze to death. you can cast yourself away to anyothercity where you imagine there are knives,late, loud music, a million women i'm jealous of and general trouble. the rainbow ripples of wasted gasoline renders chemical creative possibility and vitals of a potential life you though has been on mute for several years now. or maybe even since it may have beagn, whenever that was. it looks so.......... from inside a fishbowl. it's my favorite thing to do anyway, with a buzz and melancholy lyrics tucked neatly in your ears.

fuck-bot continues his preprogrammed ego wanking empty frat-task.

highlight: i was just able to use saccharine in a sentence with someone i would like to fight.

love,
sweetheart

.. is where i wanna be

2004-08-14T15:49:00.000-03:00

being....
soaking wet and having people ask you if you "got caught in the rain" and you say yes even though you know damn well you did it on purpose - it makes you feel like an icon.
"you're going to get sick" noted one concerned motorist - my response was a shrug. nothing clever springs to a soggy mind. my pants gained 5 pounds. - but i felt like a nasty/sweet fuck walking.
i only made a fool of myself once today in my own mind, (christ would you shut up?) although to reality, i'm sure it went unoticed. good thing - I"ll punish myself for hours to come. i wonder if all of the anybodys feel that way - i don't think my brand of misery loves company - it prefers loud music, cheap tea and the unique alone where you block and/ or avoid. intentionally lonely.
i saw an old friend who i recognize as a constant at this point. a landmark in my friend field. we talked about the boy i should have married's wedding and the one who i kicked in the heart as often as i could. he invited me into a sticky situation accidently on purpose. a neatly mutual verbal avoidance of the scabby topic. the bipolar side(s) of me want to strike a bet as to how long it takes to drink enough so I trip heartfirst into the torturous rusty clamp trap set innocently by my chemical soul mate/hate.please don't catch me this time.
if you don't understand any of this (maybe "65%") remember this is just a self indulgent left brain vomit recorded in symbolic staccato to mark my existence in the endless and artificial mechanical universe.
oh and i just poured blackstrap fucking molasses down the front of my new leopard print sweater.
good - another sticky situation

strange garden

2004-08-12T08:20:00.000-03:00

blueberries, cranberries, milk thistle, licorice, bee pollen, alfalfa, dandelion
i'm chewing my drink. it's so nice outsied I should really be in there. 8:22am.
boy, bean's gonna be pissed when she sees that the balloon popped.

this is what marriage means to me

2004-08-11T20:22:00.000-03:00

there was a wedding this past weekend. an event that you should pull yourself out of your own ass to appreciate. respect. spectate. observe. envy. weep. reflect. i got too stoned to do (m)any of these things. even during the ceremony I was so caught up in the concept of fleeting vows (do they exist only as they are spoken?) that everything was missed entirely.
i think right now anyway it'll probably pass.
pot doesn't always enhance a situation, it actually follows closely behind as a delete key. even if the implication of what was done or said bobs on the surface of a conceptual existence. what is concrete or objectively "real" is more easily distorted or destroyed.
okay delete that. no I won't that's not fair.
it's good thing i have :
1/ a shell
2/bubbles
3/ a mickey of jack daniels
4/ a piece of cake still under my pillow
or i wouldn't be sure that it ever happened at all because:
i spent the weekend in a cloud of paranoid self absorption for the most part. without pouting although. i am jealous. i covet. i am frigid. but. i smiled. i made coffee i hogged the bed but cannot be held responsible for anything i ever do.
it was fun. i wrote a love letter to ben in some wet sand and there was jeweled sunlight on the ocean bright like a million shards of a heaven

.... and all of the excesses of the desperate clinging to no tomorrow was concentrated in a final moment of lost meaning and shot up so high and hard in the smoke of the driftwood bonfire, it smashed heaven all over the atlantic...
...by the next day it had positioned its endlessness into a lazy morning sprawl on the blanket of the sea, winking blindingly with flirtation and it seduced the sun, if only to hitch a ride way back up high.

hitch another ride a na na

we all made this beautiful together you and i and us and them. kissing girls and cage fighting boys, hair cutters and smoking fiends, shy haters, knowers of jesus, topless adventurers, rock stars, team leaders, girlfriends, saints, sluts, man and wife, dance winners and crib losers, rabbits and freezing beans.

we did and we will

editor's note (the "shot up so high in the smoke....." comment was in no way a reference to anyone's (mr freesneakers) beachgrass tumblings. i would not be so myself at this moment to represent such a deperately magical evening in a base manifestation of a cum shot. the joy far surpassed the emotional force i assume millions of sperm are capable of experiencing.
even all at once. I could be wrong)

wake up - here again

2004-08-03T08:09:00.000-03:00

the thought of standing on my feet all day selling mushroom extract and vitamin c to a dissatified crowd of faithful complainers is not appealing. the sun is perfect and clear - which will be the hot topic of conversation in the bio-dome today. i scraped some brownie that the ants didn't carry off, off of some paper in the kitchen, shoved it in my maw and then returned my thoughts towards restoring my liver after the excess that was yesterday. now i will go to work in fear of fucking up another day. i don't have it so bad - but i like to think so.

pop the blog cherry

2004-08-02T11:43:00.000-03:00

so it's come to this.
summer is too fucking hot and every article of clothing i own has become a 4 size smaller shell of its former self. I have no sympathy for my shrunken clothing - i am pissy and impatient and hateful (resulting from the toleration of the climate and all of the cheery muffin fucker tall ships mouthbreathers.) i will now go and repeatedly spit into a pair of trousers, and with the assistence of a bottle opener - perhaps shimmy them up and over my bruised and sunless knees.
i feel very detached from my family and am blatently and rudely avoiding them. it's either fear or dissapointment but I'll be careful to avoid saying "always", "never" and as i learned from a friend last night ,"forever" (ie. "i will love soandso forever". "i will remember this night forever"). she doesn't and i don't therefore you don't.
thank you for forgetfulness. keeps you sane and safe from overflow.
i am in the kind of loveright now where your ribs feel as if they about to split foward and you have the overwhelming urge to chew the insides of your cheeks raw
noonereallygivesafucksosayonara
thisishowitisforeveryone
theonlygoodthingaboutsummeriswearingonlysheetsatnight
itsfuntomakepeopleworkalittlehardertoreadanddecipherindividualwords
happy fabricated holiday y'all