I Still Would

am-bishons

2012-01-23T15:28:00.000-08:00

wanting to read more books without putting in the time
wanting to go more places but not be absent from home
wanting to cross the road but stay on this side
wanting ambition
but not wanting to fulfill it.

you ever get that way? All humans must. We're all the same person, just at different stages.

chigarettes

2012-01-19T12:36:00.000-08:00

such a beautiful specimen is sitting 3:00 from me and my gawd i have to try hard not to stare and not to make a weird face and not to think about it. I wish I could get a pep talk from someone who doesn't give a shit, someone who rolls with the punches and is jolly alone or alive.
where is that person and when is their seminar?
First day of real snow, first day of not smoking, and i'm becoming more and more aware of myself. I want to just look over, ahh, i did it, and I saw the side of her face and it calmed me the way nicotene used to (yesterday).
I am in love with a few different people in a few different ways. There is that special love I harbour for my favorite author(s), and then there is that love I harbour for a dead person (that love that no one else can live up to), and there's the love I've got for my lover, and then the love I have for the mysterious stranger that I want to give my whole self to because I can't breathe around them anyway so what purpose does my body serve? gaddamn, it hurts to look at her but it hurts worse to miss her (and not see her).I have placed myself in her line of sight, perhaps that was dumb, because I can't just look at her, at any moment she might be looking at me! Oh the catch22's.

gosh, I don't know. but I found this post from someone about their first day not smoking and I like it, I think I should write notes to cigarettes more often.

see link for full post, duh. http://cynthiafriesehassanein.typepad.com/storyboardc/2009/06/thank-you-for-not-smoking.html

down frown

2012-01-10T10:43:00.000-08:00

Why when a person is down in the dumps does it make him or her feel better to write about it and publish it on their own blog on the internet? Let's see. Reason 1: it makes them feel like someone will read it and give a damn. Reason 2: it makes them feel connected to something other than their pillow and blanket. Reason 3: it makes them feel like a real person, contributing to the web of yammering on and on. Reason 4: weak attempt to reach out to reality however, they fail to recognize the internet as a state of unreality.
Took me three hours to get out of bed this morning. After eating breakfast and getting dressed I went back to bed for another hour. Scrubs makes me laugh a little, so atleast I was entertained, but then the four deaths of the transplant patients in episode 24 of season 5 took me over the edge and left me defeated in my own illusion.

got out of the house and to the coffee shop where I am currently dousing my sorrows in caffeine. What are my sorrows, you might wonder? My moods are my sorrows, my inability to live in the present and future tense without making daily or hourly reference to times past. I am being shadowed by the ghost of a friend, or rather by a memory. I am incapable of incapable at? incapable in? I am incapable to? I cannot accept and move on. I can only accept and whine about it, I guess. Which makes me quite the conversationalist, and quite the companion, I suppose. You get down on yourself, you get down on the world, you get down on the world for letting you exist, and for having you exist this way. Some cycle this is. And then you get comfortable in your bed and never want to leave because nothing is more soothing than a head on a pillow. Phone-lines tangled and connecting you to the people who can only boast about their days of tedium, it's embarrassing, it's tired. I shouldn't even have a telephone. Why does anyone need to get a hold on me?

I guess I needed to leave the house today to get some more sustenance, I'm thinking oatmeal and oranges until I die. We all think we're invincible until we can't think anymore, at which moment others realize that you weren't invincible.

Everything seems like "too much trouble" to bother. And I apologize to those who spend time with me, to those I expect to know what to say to me. It's a matter of great expectations, and who had that right in the first place? yes, dickens. yes. I am afraid of many things, namely of wasting your time. If you have found a way to enjoy the time allotted to you, then do not devote any time to this time waster. I am kicking myself until I fall down, I am holding my own head under water, I am dying to be dying.

fun session, eh? ain't no body like your body: dead and burned up and thrown at the wind. I'm gonna make a fuckin awesome skeleton someday.

that's what you're wearing?

2012-01-02T08:08:00.000-08:00

woot woot. just a post to fulfil my sense of entitlement.
me: "just because it's my birthday I can say what I want and offend who I want and everyone has to love me!"

other: "no no, that's how every day works. to a point."

me: "so what's so special about today?"

other: "today you can do it with a tiny hat on and with cake all over your face."

me: "Oh! That's a good compromise!"

cyclical

2011-11-17T17:56:00.001-08:00

my dog is walking around, room to room, deciding what she wants to do. Walk, stare off into space, move along, bite foot, clik clak clik clak, her little toenails chime on the hardwood, waltz into a dark closet, hear nothing, stare into the shadows, turn around, lick self, look at bed, hesitate, walk around bed, hesitate, pounce, chicken out, pounce, get on bed, lie on pijama pants, lick lick, lay head down.

that is what i just watched this little fur-ball do.

why do i want a button-maker so bad.
there is something called the "happy happy poster club" based in the UK of kids like us making cool posters and touring around small gallery spaces. pretty neat. http://www.myspace.com/thehappyhappyposterclub/photos/15260395
i can't quite figure out where their images are so i can see some of the posters, but maybe someone else will have better luck.
i want to make better projects. i want to make projects.
today we had our first snow, today is my dad's birthday and we had pecan pie and it was delicious. i didn't know i liked pecan pie.

today is the second day in a row that I have felt so very hyper and ecstatic. There was a crazy sale at the west 49 outlet store today and I got some rockin new gear. mostly plaid shirts. because a canadian cannot have too much plaid.

probably change my tires tomorrow. winter and all that, safety first.
make. think. reuse.

Dove is a pigeon

2011-10-25T08:40:00.000-07:00

i don't know if you cared at all that it was his birthday the day you stopped.

might have been a whole lot of loneliness at that very moment, or maybe you spoke to him and wished you were with him, or that life was a different set of rules all together. I don't know the half of it, i'm sure.

but i sure as hell don't want to have a birthday party for anyone. i sure as hell want to just remember you whole and breathing.

The catch about anniversaries is that it's a day that's just as sad as the rest of them, but it's a dau where it's expected that I bring it up, or it's accepted that I bring it up and tear and yammer on and on about you. I do that all the time, you know? I hope you know. I bring you up all the time, and mostly in the vest way possible, until I have to explain a bit more about you and the listener gets sullen.

They never met you, their all suffering for it.

I met you, and I'm suffering for it too, but I have the benefit of fond memories to cloud those of your eviscerated soul.

No one has come along and one-upped you. no one has been nearly as great a semblance to you as I'd hope I'd find.

In many ways that is a great thing. It proves that special is real.

No you are gay.

2011-10-08T16:23:00.000-07:00

It's thanksgiving weekend and I'm spending it with my dad and my stepmom's family. They are the greatest, they are so fun and so adorable and laugh lots. We are making a butterballer turkey that is going to be deeeelicious.

There's this one thing though, the "That's so gay" phrase is a constant in this extended family's vocabulary... mostly one of the 40 year old women's vocab, she's a "cool mom" and loves top 40 songs and loves the word "gay" to mean something it does not. when I contest it, they/she assure me that it isn't "that kind of gay" but rather "it's the stupid, dumb" kind, or that's what she means. it's a word with two meanings. when I say that saying "that's gay" makes her sound stupid, and is offensive to anyone who identifies as gay (cough, ahem, myself and whoever else damn well pleases) she slaps her thigh, squints her eyes, and says " you know I love you, you know I don't mean it like that! come on! it's MY WORD"

I don't know what else to say. My best come-back is "gay is not a synonym for stupid" and that one swung back to make me look like the diction-nazi.

what can be done to adjust the inequalities between our generations?

anyone?

the books aren't only for reading.

2011-10-01T16:51:00.000-07:00

The Books are a band from new york. they are a band of two people who were friends first.

one plays the cello and the other plays the guitar and sings. together they have come up with some of the greatest combinations of words for titles. their titles of songs make my heart melt like that iceburg that the titanic hit, and make my heart sink like the titanic did after it hit that iceburg.

here is a list of two early cd's and the track titles. i got this information from wikipedia. i highlighted the ones that have particularly interesting track titles. the red highlights are the titles that make my heart warm.

Thought for Food (1999):Track listing

"Enjoy Your Worries, You May Never Have Them Again" – 4:05
"Read, Eat, Sleep" – 3:46
"All Bad Ends All" – 2:42
"Contempt" – 3:20
"All Our Base Are Belong to Them" – 4:18
"Thankyoubranch" – 5:05
"Motherless Bastard" – 4:11
"Mikey Bass" – 2:52
"Excess Straussess" – 2:06
"Getting the Done Job" – 3:49
"A Dead Fish Gains the Power of Observation" – 1:07
"Deafkids" – 1:10

Lost and Safe (2005): Track listing

"A Little Longing Goes Away" – 3:30
"Be Good to Them Always" – 4:51
"Vogt Dig for Kloppervok" – 3:54
"Smells Like Content" – 3:41
"It Never Changes to Stop" – 4:01
"An Animated Description of Mr. Maps." – 4:38
"Venice" – 1:42
"None But Shining Hours" – 2:42
"If Not Now, Whenever" – 3:35
"An Owl With Knees" – 4:41
"Twelve Fold Chain" – 4:44

Dear ontario

2011-09-04T07:18:00.000-07:00

I really like the new interface.

In other news, I had the strangest 2 hour flu yesterday, five hours after my girlfriend had the same thing! It might not be the flu, but we both had very similar symptoms which included sweating, being pale, feeling nauseus, feeling bloated. . . I actually vomited... let's not worry about what colour or where. And then I went to bed and, foof, out like a light and the illness lifted along with the night's sky. Dawn was a welcomed relief.

Dear anyone who's ever applied for grad-school bursaries, grants, and scholarships,
What the fuck is the deal with the websites and why are they so damn impossible to navigate? I'm rethinking my life path on that account alone.

Dear hamilton,
I love you, you are a great city. Also, I got a haircut and a lot of my friends are coming back this week from being gone all summer and I am looking forward to it.

oh mau gawd

2011-08-25T06:59:00.000-07:00

Why I want to jump across every table and road and sidewalk and strangle every dick, tom, and cindy is beyond me. I'm using self-restraint... I'm being mentally aware and using my wisemind. If I can prevent myself from committing
crimes until I die, I will have been a strong individual.

Some days I feel like a luntatic. I don't know

what is just cause for institutionalization, or criminalization, or incarceration... so I'm always pretty iffy on stating my thought processes, my thoughts, my fears, my instincts. But I guess if I get in trouble for saying things, then this would be 1984 or vanilla sky or minority report or an asimov universe or cuba or N. Kor.i.a. I'm even scared of writing out that country because Mau might have my metaphorical nads in a vice by sundown.

In zombie or apocolyptic stories no one ever

focuses on the fact that, while a huge percentage of people are dependant on pharmeceutical drugs to stay sane... we're all going to go nuts when they drop the bomb, if we don't die on impact or the radiation doesn't kill us... we'll all end up killing eachother.

Mess of a universe, we don't even need to bring aliens or zombies into the mix. we're fucked if the drug companies shut off.

abandon everything !

wally

2011-08-14T11:24:00.001-07:00

who sends dreams?

and if it's you that's sending them, am I going to have many more of you living or dying or dead?

much of my days are wasted on pondering what becomes of dreams, for one mind only, and then that mind more often forgets.

how many more dreams will you be sending to me? i don't want you to stop or anything, I just wish there were something I could do to change things for the better.

i'm having a hard time breathing today, and a hard time paying attention. I can't manage to ignite any of my writing. I want to be a writer, I want to be your friend, I want to be a fast runner, I want to read and get smarter every day, I want to sleep long hours, and be awake for long hours, and I want to die without hurting anyone.

and I want to be your best friend, and i want to call you at five a.m. and i want to see batman, and I want to fly to san fran, and i want to wake you up, and i want to stroke your face until you cringe and cackle. and i want to fall asleep on your couch, and i want to keep in touch. and i want to wake you up, and i want to be your friend, and i want to hear you sing and play guitar, and i want you to know how talented you are, and i want to laugh at you and with you, i want to be the subject of your laughter.

not much else is at the forefront. it's difficult to keep a straight face, or give a shit about current events or fireworks or alcohol, it's impossible to care about rotating my tires. i don't know how i still have any friends. i can't tell if i am a curse or a cure, if i am neither.

designed to fail. i want to die without hurting anyone.

cats

2011-08-02T19:32:00.000-07:00

i love you,

but i can't listen right now, i'm annoyed by your stories and by your trying to show off.

i hate cats. but i love cuddling them.

bizarre

2011-07-23T20:43:00.000-07:00

the 27club is just as elusive to me as the bremuda triangle.
a few things in the universe don't fit into our understanding of physical possibilities. however, that fact has no bearing on the physically/realistically unexplainable existing in spite.

i hold utmost respect for the 27club. i harbour a tender spot for the 21club, too, unfortunately.

on this day, july 2rd, 2011, amy winehouse has become, eternally, a member of this 27club.
Death is a bitch for the living.

this

2011-07-20T20:22:00.000-07:00

this this

is the best place for your memory, holy

holy heart.

this

is the greatest place for our serenity

for our illusion

our positions

our situation is indeterminate

but this is the best place for us to stay

enthralled

with the things we say. the things we say.

the conversations of every fucking day.

post poe slam

2011-06-25T21:38:00.000-07:00

(phonetic tonetic reading)

wont chu be mai frend

otherwise what else is there?

ai want to see things, be around things

i want to be in my own head,

i want to tote around without bothering the public

but when i make things happen i want to make things happen

out loud

do androids dream

2011-06-15T12:59:00.000-07:00

i don't have recurring dreams, but when something happens in one dream it usually carries over to the rest of my dream land, for instance: Last night I dreamed that sharks were released into the deep end of a swimming pool, therefore most swimming pools i dream of in the future will have sharks in them.

but more intense situations. the shark thing, that was a six year old's dream post-jaws, post-swim class.

i dream of terrible things, waking up not knowing if they're true.

they have gone

2011-05-28T17:35:00.000-07:00

none of these people know they were photographed. none of these people know they are on the internet. none of these people know where they're going.

they're going to the vancouver airport.

north west coast

2011-05-26T11:11:00.000-07:00

I don't know what's happened with my drive to write and write everything down. it appears that a whole ten days has gone by. i am coming home from vancouver today. I spent seven days on beautiful Gabriola Isl. and then three and a half days here in Van. In those three days I saw a youth poetry slam, put my feet in the pacific ocean (wreck "rek" beach), got no information on grad-school programs but not for lack of trying, had beer with a friend named Beth, had several coffees with a friend name Aly, and walked across cambie bridge and back over bunaby bridge, or whatever it may be called.

Gabriola won't be expanded on quite yet, at the moment I like to hone it as my week in gabriola, with Freddy and Mary Ann. The week belongs to us, and only us right now. and maybe molly was there too.

so ends my frolic on the north west coast.

cheerio.

2011-05-14T13:28:00.001-07:00

off to british columbia on monday. first time being there. i'm looking forward to the sea. i am looking forward to joey the dog. i am looking forward to wandering cities on my own. fuck yeah.

I just saw a "parking monitor" put a bright yellow ticket on someone's windshield. That could very well ruin that person's day. That could be the thing that pushes someone over the edge, if their day is already shit. The "parking monitor" continued to walk through the lot, and notices another metre's run out. he does the walk around, checking the car out, and when he's at the back of the car he inputs the licence plate number, the infringement, etc, and prints out another bright yellow ticket. what a sense of superiority. I know, I know, it's a job right? It's his job, so he does it, and he probably doesn't like it any more than anyone likes getting a ticket.

Two condoms in their red durex packaging are lying in the parking lot. they've been there all day. they're getting rained on, and they probably don't give a crap.

i just felt like i should write something out, it's been a while.

the men sitting at the other end of this counter just started joking about the parking monitor guy, saying how well he's doing today, "just rackin' up those tickets," they're saying.

i'm excited for the sea and the whales i might not even see. I'm excited for the airplane to take-off. I'm looking forward to potentially watching movies on the plane. for turbulence. i'm glad i cut my hair, i feel more badass.

Martelli’s Cat is a species of cat that's extinct.

I learned some shit on the internet.

gotta come up with a tag or a brilliant thing to graffiti or something. i'm so pissed at my inability to create shit lately.

amsterdam

2011-04-25T07:14:00.001-07:00

exclusion is a bitch.

elitism is shit.

nothing is more fabricated

than the family unit.

take me to the airport. i'll never look back.

2011-04-22T18:45:00.000-07:00

tell me i'm "too much"

gettin called on shit you do for breakfast

double standard, lie down

bitch

2011-04-22T13:04:00.000-07:00

i need boxes

i am moving

to a new place

i can't call home yet.

LEAVE

2011-04-17T15:04:00.001-07:00

LEAVE EVERYONE

BEFORE

EVERYONE LEAVES

YOU

BE SURE TO WEAR LONG UNDERWEAR

2011-04-14T14:19:00.000-07:00

fuck your life

kill the ocean.

sell out.

sell out for as much as you can

and rent a warehouse on the beach

and die there.

2011-03-27T20:11:00.001-07:00

tumblr is down

so i'll post

heeeeeeeeere

feel free to edit this and let me know what changes i should make

2011-03-27T17:13:00.000-07:00

i remember what it's like

dating a literary genius

so poetic

every post-it note

and paper napkin

can never be thrown out

so sexy

are their bookshelves

decorated

with earflapped books dog-earred

at every pivotal page

i remember what it's like

talking about e. e. cummings

and mark strand.

about the bookshop down the road

and how much they've ripped us off this time.

we'll pay for fiction

but fuck if we'll ever buy a newspaper at a news stand

i'm sick of all the earthquakes and tsunami waves,

call me insensitive,

i don't care about the flu or elroy's dog getting west nile.

i don't care about forest fires or oil spills, there are enough people

worried about starving children without shoes or mothers.

the only thing that's new in this world is

how in the hell did kurt vonnegut

come publish a book of short stories

thirteen years post-humus

and what is kafka going to publish next?

i remember what it's like

going to bed with someone

who reads and writes with such austere

that touching their pencils

and writing utensils

give me shocks in my groin

i remember magic

but i must remember

that we all remember

what we want to remember

and we forget about

the shit

she did

and said

with her full grasp of english diction

and her understanding

of philosophy;

monogamy is a fable

a parable

to keep our knees locked

shut

and our hearts cold,

she said, in fewer words,

independence goes hand in hand

with graduating

and being single.

i miss hearing her

hold a new book

every time we spoke

she never lent me a single one

but she'd go on and on about how great they were.

it's possible

she never read a single thing

but then,

where would this poem be?

what's better,

possibly,

is someone who's got all those words in their mind

but must use another mode

of transmission

to express them.

the sex is unreal.

lingers

2011-03-25T07:06:00.000-07:00

i remember why your face looks familiar to me. you're having a cup of coffee with a friend, about two point five feet from my seat. do you remember me sitting in your office not eight months ago? I sat there spewing personal information for over an hour. You wrote it all down, and placed it in a filefolder, which was further placed upon a shelf or in a cabinet so far off it wouldn't even burn if the building was set to fire, it wouldn't even burn, it would just disappear.

from this point on, i avoid eye contact and i keep my shoulders, head, turned from your place here. i keep my eyes front and focused on something else, in hopes you don't recognize me, in hopes you don't look at me in memory and think "oh, that troubled student, oh she isn't dead, that must be good."

i do not believe in "musts", nothing must be this or that or bad or great, things either are or are not, is one thing you can think. but goodness, your indecision is infuriating sometimes.

look, i'm conscious. i'm conscious which mean i have mind and able to act as i see fit or fat. tit tat.

my night-dreams have been getting more confusing by the week, the sense they fail to make is driving me bonkers. i will not suffocate in the night, i will not overdose on cigarettes and caffeine. i hydrate with hydro, so i'm on top of it all, except the world.

i long to be back in san francisco, january 1st 2009. i danced with my long-dead friend that night, we danced to "what the hell am i doin drinkin in LA" just before midnight, and then she fell tired, as she had been for so many years. tired and drunk. tired, drunk, and sad. existence is a hard state and i love her forever.

it seems everything i think and write comes back to her. one of the best people of all time beat me to the punchline. which only highlights and lingers the highlighter upon the line "best people of all time." ain't no going back, but baby, i won't go too far forward.

now

2011-03-24T18:48:00.001-07:00

Girlfriend,

I'm coming across the street

to be with you.

sundowning

2011-03-07T10:44:00.000-08:00

very interesting. i was having coffee this morning with a friend and it came up in conversation that as a child, until around age ten, i'd have a temper tantrum every day at 5 o'clock, so my mother says. no matter what she did, i still flipped my shit every day no matter where we were or if i'd eaten or not. and KJ, whom I'd been telling this to, asked if i'd ever heard of sundowning or sundown syndrome, which afflicts persons with dementia and/or alzheimers.

as i've been doing some research on that now, i realize that it is a very puzzling syndrome that causes confusion and fits of anger. no doctor or scientist knows the cause of it, or really how to prevent or cure it. the internet only has advice on how to "deal" with the situation, by trying to make the individual a little more comfortable and less likely to be aggitated.

it seems i've grown out of my fits, grew out of them early on. i wonder, though, if it's a signifier of my developing alzeheimers when i grow up. my late grandmother passed with a heavy alzheimers diagnosis coupled with parkinsons, so it's likely i'll grab one or two of those when i grow up. funny thing, they're both affiliated with the nervous system's deterioration, and a loss of control over the motorfunctions of the body... until... the autofunctions are fucked up too.

anyway, i wonder if anyone will ever figure out how to chill kids out who have tantrums. i know i never liked them. i've still got shit control over my moods, but i don't lash out, i don't ruin the days of others.

maybe it'll all come full circle and i'll be a lunatic, when i get old old. you know something? the root of "demented" just means "brought back to simple" like a child, like your mind de-matures.... comes from latin. my dad taught me that just last week actually.

so growing up to be demented won't be so bad... i've been a child once before, and it wasn't so hard.

why not

2011-02-27T11:53:00.000-08:00

get out of bed, i keep telling myself. get up. do something. anything. am i tired? sad? lonely? lazy? unmotivated? faulty? sick? cold?

thins fats

2011-02-19T10:45:00.001-08:00

really though? what are you trying to tell me, food industry? or i could just exercise some self control once in a while

can't you see?

2011-02-15T16:01:00.001-08:00

mom can't see that i'm beautiful

lately.

2011-01-25T19:31:00.000-08:00

i don't spend
enough time
alone lately.

what what

2011-01-23T12:08:00.000-08:00

what'll I do when you leave

fuck. what will i do?

the same thing i do everynight.

try to get over it.

try to grow up.

what'll i do when she leaves

when she gets over this?

what'll i do.

this isn't about the girl in the photograph

it is about what the girl in the photograph represents.

and it is about a girlfriend.

art links

2011-01-17T15:08:00.000-08:00

from Andy Fabo
about abjection and ART

Sean Landers, especially the writing-based stuff from the early 90s:

http://www.andrearosengallery.com/artists/sean-landers/#
http://dailyserving.com/2007/06/sean-landers/
http://www.thisistomorrow.info/viewArticle.aspx?artId=291
Cary Liebowitz (a.k.a. Candy Ass), especially late 80s early 90s:
http://jbkart.blogspot.com/2008/11/cary-candyass-leibowitz.html
http://www.kunstwissen.de/fach/f-kuns/o_pm/leibow0.htm

And the book you may check out is the Anti-aesthetic, Hal Foster:

http://www.kettererkunst.com/dict/abject-art.shtml
http://www.gmfboutique.com/product.php?productid=42
http://www.artnet.com/magazineus/reviews/robinson/sterling-ruby6-20-09.asp
http://www.michaeljwilson.com/2002ArtforumJust%20Pathetic.htm
http://www.escapeintolife.com/artist-watch/sean-landers/

my girlfriend won't let me photograph her naked.

2011-01-16T10:21:00.000-08:00

how can i get you

to love me

less

owning it

2011-01-12T21:28:00.001-08:00

positive thinking positive thinking.

"I'M GOING TO KEEP HAVING A GOOD TIME BUT/AND I REALLY HOPE YOU'LL STAY"

BECAUSE YOU'RE LOVELY

and i don't want to do this...

alone.

gnaw at the thaw

2011-01-11T18:22:00.000-08:00

oh don't worry about calling me back, i only call you so you feel popular. i only leave messages to let you know i'm still alive.

i'm in the midst of a phone-tag battle that will likely not be completed for half a dozen years, the person i am trying to reach has three children not yet at the age of preschool. i cannot explain why i need so "badly" to speak to her, we never say more than a few words. I am finding it difficult to follow my daily routine. i am finding myself sleepy. i am finding myself worried or not worried enough, you see, i hate middle-ground, i'm an advocate for extremes (while really appreciating the calm of those around me).

i have no opportunity to burst and thrash, i have not built up the momentum and i suppose that's something to be proud of, stopping myself from that momentum. but you know, the longer between fits, between freakouts, between mindfalls, the more extreme when it happens next. and here is pessimism rounding the corner, stealing second. stealing seconds, minutes, whole hours and days from my sham of a calm life.

it is lovely snowing outside. a soft blanket of innocence yawns over a great expanse called this city.

i don't know.

i'm feeling a bit better since this wave of sleepy came over me.

my cure for downs and lows is

sleep and more of it.

maybe i should throw in some vegetables. ah fuck it.

some idea

2011-01-04T14:30:00.000-08:00

the door closes swiftly behind me, the momentum of my pull on its handle. the winter evening welcomed my warm breath with condensation, it was visible when i spoke, it was visible when i exhaled. I make my way further into the room, wiping my wet shoes on the carpet set out to do this job alone. There is no one else here. The door was left unlocked, but no one is here. The door was left unlocked, right? The door was left unlocked or I broke it with my tight grip and torque. I naturally slip the gloves off my hands, first left then right, and drop them as I walk. I push my hood off my head, i unzip my coat, i undo my belt all the while walking further into the dim lit warmth.

eventually i'd like this to say something about how the weather outside shifts like a mood disorder, the snow began to pelt down from the atmosphere moments after a seemingly clear sky had hung high over our heads.

back then

2010-12-27T21:51:00.000-08:00

back in highschool

it was always:

do we have enough? when we run out, can we get more?

back in highschool

it was always

easy to kiss boys under the stage

or in the park at night,

it never felt like anything other than danger.

back in highschool

it was always

new bongs in the same basement

watching new episodes of futurama

and planning the most amazing dinner parties.

back in highschool

it was always

hard to get a word out that meant more than

two pennies and a pat on the back

high letter grades mean nothing about intelligence,

and i scammed them both.

back in highschool

we worried about dime bags and six packs

we worried about detentions interfering with our missions.

back in highschool

no one gave a crap

and that's something that will never change.

A.

2010-12-11T19:24:00.000-08:00

interesting what it is you might need to say to a friend

disregarding your views on the world, you know it's shit but

it would be more shit without them

so you come up with things

that should be enough to keep you here,

because you see these things as enough to keep her here:

there are too many things we still have to do, you can't go yet.

you can't go yet.

and i fear being selfish,

trying to persuade you to stay here

when i, myself am not sure of anything

when, day to dusk, i too have your thoughts.

i too want to kick things

like the bucket beneath my feet

and the garbage in the street.

and i'm so sure nothing will change that

except sleep.

but darling, darling,

own the world.

allow yourself, not, to be stricken from it.

a good place

2010-11-22T20:01:00.000-08:00

"the world forgot about us, but the universe demands that we exist" -AL

at least for now.

i write from the perspective of being a human. ten long fingers, ten slender toes. nice short nails.

though i greatly identify with the queer adults of today, i am hardly pressed to join the activists in their fight against homophobia. i am hardly pressed to speak up for lower taxes. i am hardly pressed to fight and fight. i oft find that i myself, though have i fought little in life, have no strength in me to fight even a little harder. i want it all to be over. i want the strife to be stroke down by thor's hefty hammer. i have no heart in me for fighting nay more, nor ever. there are things more pressing on my mind, on my pituitary gland, on my amygdala- if i even have one. little am i worried about the use of queer identity, little am i worried about the confrontations, the squawking of chums in a pub, or out of a drive-by car; young men hollering at me "you're gay!" is much, to me, like them yelling "you have blue eyes!" or "you left handed fuck!" it's annoying, yes, but little do i have the patience. they are driving themselves into the ground, into a lap-post, late at night, coke lining their nostrils. they, as i, will find themselves cold and stiff, excrement in their pants, running down their legs. they too, as i, have shat themselves before- as toddlers, as babies, as old men with poor anus control. we hath all vomited and washed our salty tears down a drain or two in our day.

all beings, living and dead, have felt the pinch of time, the prick of reality- however large, however small. i will vow, today, to feel nothing. and then tomorrow, i will fall to my knees. my eyes will well up, my face a welt of throbbing sorrow. and i will, once again, swear i have no use for the morrow.

and at the best moments of my shine, i will be stroked in awe, i will avow to love and love and love- all tears are tears of love. to feel is to live, to live is to love. i will feel complete. and in that moment, i will, too, beg of the sky, beg of mine hands, to viciously claw the life from my own eyes, to hurl my lifeblood t'ward the rivers, to hang my throat off of a bridge and n'er breathe another. trip my own feet to the ground, scrape my knees, my elbows, and my chin. deface my epethelials, till they cannot be recognized. 'scape from another moment lost in time, to mine own eyes, 'scape the laughter, 'scape it. give what'er's left of the corpse to the birds, set me on a scar, and have the universe absorb what'er's left. i haven't got the patience for this unfolding existence.

and i place my napkin by the cutlery, and ask to be excused.

wants

2010-10-24T16:17:00.000-07:00

i can be a little over the top sometimes

a little dramatic i guess

meh.

smoke when the hard times roll

like the days of the week

and the waves of the tide

they roll in

like deep clouds

we smoke to make typical conversations

in a foreign ally way

when we don't know where the nearest bathroom is

and we haven't pissed in hours

when living friends

bring you less comfort

than dead ones.

the dead one.

as we pass the time

we can't figure out where to place a pencil

on a blank page.

should it be a vacant cityscape

or a vacant stall?

a vacant bed might portray

enough for the both of them.

and i can't offer enough right now

to morally take what i need

css

2010-10-23T18:40:00.000-07:00

couldn't for the life of me change a few little things on my tumblr CSS sheet.

the whole xhtml thing is intense.

i did learn how to make triangles... but not how to input them in the right places on style sheets to go where i want them. so to exercise my talent i will place them here.

here perhaps

a few extra words

sexy letter spacing

triangle; transparent=" red="" 0px="" 200px="">

open water calls

2010-10-22T20:14:00.000-07:00

open water calls

and broken shit is allowed.

i will be only parts of who i am at one time.

being all of me at once is too much.

being all of myself at this house

is too much

i will only be myself outdoors, and behind closed ones.

fuck the noise.

fuck all the noise.

one day i will be an ocean.

today though, only a lake.

myouuzik

2010-10-17T14:31:00.000-07:00

oh, canadian folk queers. how i wish i could marry any one of you.

http://www.daytrotter.com/dt/chris-pureka-concert/20032237-37382265.html

and may i mention,

too long in the same place might be mistaken for sickness

i have too many roots in the soil

too much furniture to move

it makes me want to vomit

when i think how you've left

and we packed up everything

we went through all your things

and decided what to keep

or what to throw away

or what to leave on the curb for the hobos

it makes me sick

to my head

to my heart

it makes me sick

losing you

and i am forever ill

just like you,

i'm not getting any better, miss,

i'm not getting any better at all.

how we

2010-10-16T15:51:00.000-07:00

the way the leaves look at the stars, it's unbelievable.

the way the moon looks at the earth, it's full of envy.

the way a child looks at its own death, hard to look a that kid in the eyes.

the way we feel about the movies

and girls who play guitar

the way a man in a suit looks on a bicycle, briefcase latched to the back,

it's unreal.

the way that dreams look in daylight

the way fingers go numb

and cigarettes fill us up

the way we write better outdoors

the way we catch ourselves before we swear, infront of grownups.

the way we never grow up.

the way we preserve the dead.

we freeze them or burn them, we burry them. we keep them, we leave them to rot.

how bodies are utterly alone, unless utterly submerged IN eachother.

the way we can submerge into eachother. the way we can indulge.

how an atom can be in two places at once

how our hearts are anywhere except in our chests.

how the leaves fall. how do the leaves fall?

they fall by the wind.

how the leaves fall.

they fall to their deaths.

how young adults walk in groups down an illuminated road.

how trees are all that we see when we look up.

the way that building can be all that we see when we look up.

the way that it is always the sky, it is always the sky when we look up

never much of a surprise.

the way that whales need to rise to the surface to live.

the way that we harpoon them.

and when we harken for birds.

the way that the branches look at the ground

for their clothes

how we leave socks

everywhere.

the way that the moon looks at the earth,

spiteful bright.

the way that the moon looks at the earth,

completely well.

piano man

2010-10-09T15:38:00.000-07:00

remember in highschool, how we were supposed to be stupid immature kids?

what's with all the flack i'm getting these days about it. I'll find my way. Errrryone's got their panties in a bunch about it. I keep ending sentences incorrectly, what is it they say in grade school? don't end a sentence with "it" or.... what are those words called? a preposition. well, some people on the internet don't think it's wrong to end sentences like that. "that" is also a preposition, i believe.

a neato artist online: blublu at blublu.org

and for this seems to be a good place to post such images, here is a molldrawing. i don't know what to do with it. i don't know what to do with anything i make.

"storage" or what might be better referred to as my parent's basement, not that it's all that welcomed there, what can i say, i'm a being of mass production, and... irrational attachments to things i make and or spend time with; see also, the toy room in my parents' basement, still equipped to entertain children ages 3-12.

i know it is blurry... so my hands are shaky sometimes, SO WHAT. ooo, that was a little too angry, unintended, forgive me forgive me.

dearest, sing me a song, you're the piano man.

2010-09-22T20:04:00.000-07:00

joni mitchel: "lookin for the key to set me free... i wanna belong to the living... do you want to dance with me... well come on."

to my dead friend, to my dear friend,

joni's voice is a little high for my enamour. but her lyrics are agreeable to me. you're still dead, and i'm starting to think this is going to last a long time. i'm listening to music i ripped from your harddrive, isn't that strange? you have no use for harddrives, baby, but i used it just that last time to take your tunes. a cigarette just ashed ambers on my index and middle finger, are you telling me things? remember the way feelings couldn't get out without a tall boy and an acoustic guitar? these thoughts and words are only for you, i guess. you're the only one who would get a damn out of them. i should have written to you more, but i must have thought there was plenty of time for letters, and good friends don't often write letters anyway-not these days. i guess i figured that late night phone calls were good enough. now it seems i haven't got enough memories, enough materiality to keep us grounded. and who knows where you are these days? it's a pain trying to track you down.

i cannot grasp the thought that people throughout time have felt and thought and hurt like this, and furthermore, like you. now that it is done, i can't help but latch to the thought that all we need is company to keep us safe; and where have you gone? won't be company for me, but what about all those times. i'm glad we travelled and laughed in a different city, and laughed and cried with time zones stretched between us. i'm glad about those things. what difference is the divide between being and seising? just a larger gap, a longer plane ride.

what will you tell me when i tell you i'm struggling to stay on top of the empty coffee pots and the unread books? what about when i need your advice about medical stuff? who will.. well, there will be someone else to do those things... or maybe a combination of a few fellows, because you were one compact fellow.

ok. i don't think i can stand joni mitchel much longer. i'm glad you loved her to death. i'm scared you'll stop visiting me in my dreams. i'm scared i'll stop worrying about you. i'm scared you'll stop.

if you stop, then what is this? it's madness.

i taste blood, but it is likely just thirst.

and even if i ever write anything of worth, what is its use.

most often, the best things have no function; look at the stars. find me one person who can state their function.

i guess i don't really think the stars are "the best" of things.

what when the medicine stops working? what then?

and in this past year? what have i done? what would you have done. what would you have regretted? what would you have hated this year?

i hate how

it's hard to breathe

and i wish i knew better

the feeling of choking.

and i hate how

tears mix with snot

and drip

onto a perfectly wrinkled shirt.

no one will help me figure out

in words, what i cannot help think.

no one gives a fuck.

everyone

is busy.

whales

2010-09-12T17:49:00.000-07:00

time passes fine now
stale dr. pepper at my side
school has started, as has my mind
restarted and exists now all the while
inside a tempo no one can quite register
as poetry or any thing.

i've read four cantos of a four canto poem

by sir nabakov, a god, no less, in verse

i want so strongly just to shake his hand

and take all iambic tune from him

and invigorate, inject, my every word

with his vocabulary and his way with sounds

that bounce around

in mind and off the tongue

and through the eyes to off the page

and back again

into a book, shut and set upon a shelf,

hiding, stealth, in plain view

in a library of wealth

where books cost less than ten dollars a piece

but would never be sold again

because of their worth.

some foolish publisher just let them go

for peanuts. for peanuts costing less than pennies.

for peanut made of pennies, with top hats and staphs

and staph infections.

now i think i've lost my rhymeing and my purpose

but my momentum runs with screaming verses.

and here it is at this point that i snatch

away the keyboard

and give up the words

and put them to rest

with my head lain on a pillow

closing my eyes

to see superheros and magic in disguise,

a world that i can only go

between the dusk and dawn, alone,

and have no memory of sharing,

and think

that maybe i am greedy for keeping dreams

and reveries

of everything

from my perspective.

they are mine.

unlike the way my body is mine.

my body will wither.

my words, on paper, will burn

one day, they will burn.

for the time, i have things to do during sunshine

so will not think of how purposeless

the bees are to the birds

and the seas are to the herds

of whales

who kill themselves, sometimes,

like humans do.

2010-08-30T18:56:00.001-07:00

oh, how existing makes me (want to) vomit.

others

2010-08-29T18:22:00.001-07:00

it seems i cannot content myself lately.

managing to get as much alone time as i can, it isn't making me happy.

i apologize for my very self-centred ness, it is a qualm i doubt i will ever kill off in my lifetime.

scrambling for company during the daylight hours, no one seems to do it though, no one seems to quell my need for company. and while alone, i can't manage to motivate myself to do much of anything. writing here, i suppose, is doing something or other, but this is as natural as a sneeze.

i am finding no one engaging at the moment. i am finding nothing entertaining. what is this called? disillusionment. disenchantment.

comfort and balance are "meant" to extend from within, right? if one cannot be content with their own company, alone, then nothing will bring solace.

i am calmer now than i have been in days, days on and on lasting, dragging. calm but uncomfortable, constantly seeking companionship only to be unhappy with its result. what is that?

and finding words to fit these definitions, what would be the help in that? A single word to concise a plunder of feelings only gets a point across quicker, but does nothing to contend with the ultimate meaning of it all.

terms are not treatments.

treatments are trial by error.

terms are absolutes for lists of symptoms,

used to determine treatments

to begin a trial

and learn by failure

what does not work

leaving lists with no end

of possible errors to come

when "working on it"

is much less than "working through it"

and neither work to harmonize

a mind

with all the others.

dood meh

2010-08-27T20:58:00.001-07:00

I have lost touch with plenty of things before. Some times feel different.

I haven't a clue though, about this one.

What things are supposed to be funny. When should I laugh.

follow the strokes of the majority and perhaps fall into normalcy. I know what things I'm curious about, but am I curious enough to add a question mark at the end of a line.

Tomorrow. The elusive "tomorrow" will, at the very least, be sunnier than this night.

2010-08-25T20:09:00.001-07:00

don't bother with the morning, this shit just happens all over again

short

2010-08-25T15:46:00.000-07:00

i want to watch you fail

.....just 'cuz i'm evil.

d.m.h.

2010-08-16T21:54:00.000-07:00

it will be you and me for a long time now

blindmelon melon

2010-08-10T16:55:00.000-07:00

back to that good old phrase: "Elitism is shit"

and i'm sitting here in my regular spot

"life ain't so shitty" - blind melon

is kickin my speakers and ear drums.

even the wind is indecisive today,

blowin smoke all different ways

my new lover

2010-08-09T20:02:00.000-07:00

2010-08-09T15:50:00.000-07:00

i haven't got a clue of who to write these words to. i haven't. i haven't.

this is like a typhoon on mars; everyone will watch the newscast but no one will mention the names of the dead. this is like that time america sent troops to the middle east and ten years later no one talks about those soldiers' grown up babies and the gangs and the deficit. this is just so small scale and there are no words. there are no words except to say, "me too now" to an ear that has no head, to an ear that is since deadddddd DEAD DEAD DEAD dead dead dead so dead.

my goodness. so dead.

Neve Lover

2010-08-09T11:30:00.000-07:00

UHHHHM why hasn't anyone ever let me know that NEVE CAMPBELL was in a hyper lezzy movie in 1998?? "Wild Things" is the movie of the day for me, it seems. I have still to watch it and consider its dialogue and story development, but given that Neve is a main lezzy on screen, and has also been on my TOP 5 celebrity women i would sleep with given the chance, no matter my marital status for the past 5 years, i will confidently say that this movie is awesome, and she may father my babies any day.

just end that book and get on with the next one already.

2010-08-08T13:39:00.001-07:00

"it's terrible isn't it?" She asked, shying her eyes from any sight unbearable.

"it's terrible. yes. it is terrible," came the response from the strong voice to her left, "it's terrible, but i will hold your hand until the cast is on."

"no. no. forget it. i can handle this. i can handle this." Next time i won't keep my head up, i'll let it hit the pillow faster than my silly palms, keeping my brain safe from such shatter and damage.

silly muscle reflexes.

research.

2010-08-06T13:04:00.000-07:00

did some research in human sexuality today and found myself even more unenthralled by the hetero-dynamic. potentially by all dynamics, but really, the hetero one... because as a woman i exercise my reflex of power over the weaker sexual species and reach very little enjoyment. of course, other than anticipation, i am most always bored after two minutes of research and will reinstate my desired citizenship on the homo side of the line. adequate research always leads to these results and i am happy to report that nothing yet has made me the dumber to think otherwise.

and my cigarette smells of marijawana. to the homo question: "marriage, ya wanna?" i say yes, in five to fifteen years.

today today

2010-08-04T07:49:00.000-07:00

let's hope there's an explanation for all this tired shit. i've been up for half an hour and im ready for more sleep. today we see what is inside my skull... minimal thinking required. magic used, instead.

what she's saying

2010-08-02T15:47:00.001-07:00

maybe what she's saying with death is,

"really, baby, this relationship is just not working out."

this distance between us won't ever be conquered, and i was sick of high phone bills and waking up to the dial tone cemented to my head. my bed was always cold.

what she's saying with death is, "I'm breaking up with you. Don't bother with a shrine. I won't ever come back and let it break my heart."

all it is is a very permanent breakup. she's unlisted. she's off the grid. she's flying through the air. she's been turned into the soil and she's done with soft whispers and loud moans. she will forever be a distant memory which i can never fully reclaim.

artifice

2010-07-31T20:56:00.000-07:00

REALLY Really not interested in romance right now. REALLY really not interested. Really Really not excited to see you
or talk to you
or hear you
or touch you.

probably all signs that i should just peace the fuck out.
bandana around my wrist, holding me tight.

i can artifice the illusion of someone loving me sweetly.

I cannot love you sweetly.

[I understand that "artifice" is a noun, but i would like to suggest it as a verb]

cake batter

2010-07-29T23:04:00.001-07:00

and if i do not go to sleep,

what then?

and if i spend all night awake,

what?

if i do not listen to your suggestions on life

if i shaft it all, completely, what then?

and if i do not shut my eyes before or after dawn,

what then?

if i go crazy soon and eat nothing but cotton balls.

what happens, happens i suppose.

the ultimate situation is to have friends you can rely on

when you really need them most,

and to like them so much that you do your best to never need them

and this is what makes you better- that desire to be better so as not to

inconvenience or plague the ones you love.

what then?

they usually help or leave. they usually help then leave.. they usually leave, which helps. they usually leave which never helps.

one last thing for the night:

you cannot expect a cake before you mix the batter.

be being be

2010-07-24T19:38:00.000-07:00

being pulled in several directions, the stress of the conflicting pulls are what cause the most trouble. not even my mind can stay decided on one outcome. one conclusion.

i haven't had a smoke since two-thirty today... nor had i thought about that until just now. i missed my dose today... which is what i attribute to my head's sleepiness.

i want a pet goat.

and i want to stop thinking about being and just be.

return to it

2010-07-23T16:17:00.000-07:00

http://www.celinewouters.com/index.php?/ongoing/newspaper-2/

found new type art

reading a lot of e. e. cummings. number one favourite poet of the week.

way too many letters in the word "favourite"

i am a child i am a child i am a child

oiy vey zmear

2010-07-23T07:46:00.000-07:00

helping me understand your body

like i could understand a thing at all

helping me understand where you've gone

beyond beyond

ultimately stopping

	Kimya Dawson - Underground

	Found at Underground on Duck.fm

my jealousy is slight

i still have coffee and sugar

and watermelon

could anything ever help me

or help me understand?

this is the length of living

each moment bringing about new curious questions

never never to be answered

"wanting to show you a cure for your hiccups"

helping you find new ways for your body to pick up

drink less, it'll be easier to stand, but you never never

thought to listen.

i had answers for your life

so someone will have answers for mine.

and we just need a year or 22 to find

that one who'll make sense of it for us.

maybe at your 22nd, there will be answers

that can flood your stupid stale urn

and overflow your condensed body

unto the floor unto the waves of wireless phones and internet

and make their clever way to my forefront into my view.

so where is home

if every person is at the end of an extended life, each second an extra moment

all of us waiting to drop dead

finding things to fill our time

instead, i mostly sit and wonder about when

filling my time with nothing at all

you know, it doesn't make a difference.

you showed it doesn't make a difference

although if i am fun and interesting, i'll have more company

in the waiting room

before the bones are burned or take their healthy time to rot.

mystery

2010-07-15T19:34:00.000-07:00

joe blow

down the rabbit hole

feeding his curds away

when the bough breaks

and it shifts and it shakes

joe blow

takes a blow

to the face.

shape shifter

no longer

giving a damn

about which different shapes

will make me stand

shape shifter

giving it a rest

and taking the form

of penultimate stress

leaving the movements

be controlled now by the winds

fuck off the motion

of the twists and the bends

lay down pretending

for hours and days

that nothing can touch you

in whatever the chase

no one will ever crack this code

and recognize i am so bold

no one will see what i ever do mean

because my words make no sense

in the minds of the serene.

and this isn't mumbo jumbo

and this isn't psychotic babble

or babble

it all means something.

it may be the mystery that

make words rich.

remember 3 doors down?

2010-07-15T18:51:00.000-07:00

this is the story of a girl

she cried a river and drowned the whole world

she looks so sad in photographs

i absolutely love her

when she smiles

stuck in my head today

tepid

2010-07-13T20:42:00.000-07:00

today, it seems, every thought is incomplete. i think of something, try to say it, and then drift off in an absent state. i am, to say, disenchanted. maybe i should get a tattoo. but i never really cared much for them. maybe i should bungee jump, but i always rather stay home, on the porch, or within walking distance of all my belongings.

perhaps it is this lack of sleep i have encountered. a lack i do not care the alter. i will be sleeping tonight, but yet again to wake up at 7am.... not that 7 hours of sleep isn't healthy enough. but it isn't enough enough, you know?

and i haven't written a damn in the past month. i haven't written a damn. and i have no fresh ideas. i have no motivation or drive.

i almost feel i should put these words into a secret folder in my computer so that one day in the maybe not so distant future someone will stumble across it and realize that, yes, i am rather bland. i am rather undermotivated and tepid.

everyone is evolving around me, i feel like a mountain or a rock... something relatively ordinary and stationary and constant while the paleozoic era and the prehistoric era and the post apocolyptic era just occur while this mountain or rock just sits there unawares. i am that thing. and i can't ever go any-damn place.

also i am rather sleepy, so please excuse my aggression and pessimism. i am likely exaggerating every aespect of the universe right now just for the sake of emphasis.

i am stationary. and horizontal. and 'lone.

rather be 'lone than with bad company. rather be 'lone than cold and hungry with many.

every human is an island.

and this island hates politics.

mess.

2010-07-13T15:06:00.001-07:00

dearest,

your birthday is coming up. your birthday that you will never realize again.

the whole world is a mess. it is a stupid fucking mess.

i will be watching firefly all day and all night that day. i am taking that day off. i will likely be in a basement alone without you, you dead fuck.

i will not be smoking camels. your cigarettes are so stupid.

i haven't really thought too hard about you the past few days... and on days i don't think about you much i just stalk your phantom facebook page and miss you only a little bit. like you were in victoria. like you were a phonecall away, but likely asleep.

i hate the distance you've put between us.

feef ah

2010-07-11T20:21:00.000-07:00

today i

looked angry when i wasn't thinking of anything.

i wasn't in a bad mood, but maybe in a bad way.

no! wait! today i was okay. ya. ya! i was okay!

just another day, trudged along and conquered.

i conquered left-overs and beer and the porch.

i watched a soccer game, the soccer game of the year. the world cup final. turns out spain beats holland in the end. i don't

know what that means about the genetics inside me, and outside me, making up my skin and facial features. spain wins. in 2010, spain takes the world cup and tells everyone else to shut it while they/we have their/our moment.

hot hot heat

2010-07-06T18:37:00.000-07:00

now, i don't want to be denoted as a complainer... but it has been 30degrees plus this week.... and isn't planing on chilling down anytime soon.
i made maceroni and... it was too hot.... it is too hot to eat... i couldn't eat because it was raising my internal body temp. too much. i am sticking to cold cereal and glasses of water until winter.
fuck. winter come soon.
too hot to function....
more sleep than usual.
busy morning ahead.
almost 10pm, don't mind tucking in now.
should rain by friday.
i think my pumpkins are suffering.

just a tid bit for the day.
my journal is up two flights of stairs... and with each flight comes an additional five to ten degrees...
so you see why i'm opting for the bunker tonight.

much obliged, housemate X. i've brought down my own pillow and blankets.... fear not of my germs or whatever. i also just had a shower.

the ice in the burg.

2010-07-03T10:04:00.000-07:00

i believe i have not been the centre of any one's attention since i was ten years old.

this is probably a positive. it could have gone either way, but i haven't dabbled in too many illicit things. i think i am fairly average in every respect.

no one jumps for the opportunity to photograph me at family gatherings, but many are pleased to have me. my family is obsessive about meals, and so upon my arrival at the family cottage, i was fed- they filled that need of hunger for me without my needing to think. they are aware of the prevalence of eating disorders at the tender age of university academics and so, unawares, they push food like drugs. it is a good thing, in my mind, because i often am shabby at meals on my own- my staples are oatmeal and cheesy macaroni, topped with copious amounts of coffee and cigarettes- the latter unbeknownst to them.

funny then, i feel most welcomed at meal times, though not excluded from anything- i need to express a desire to do anything else that might be going on to be included.

now that i'm past high school, now that i'm well into my twenties this is expected. i can understand this independence as being given grace instead of being the object of neglect... but in retrospect, in narcissistic retrospect i was an object of neglect from the age of ten... not that i wanted for much, but maybe attention would have been useful so as to be a more confident individual now- in my prime, optimal time of independent flourish.

no one really understands my need for attention, attachment, compassion, and affection- but i think this tips the ice burg right onto its side, exposing more ice to the sky.

oiy

2010-07-01T19:47:00.001-07:00

i once encouraged her not to do anything she didn't want to do.

now

i am something she doesn't want to do.

Can you say "bummer"?

music

2010-07-01T19:38:00.001-07:00

it all circles back around

to that music

you listened to early on in life.

many call it terrible. but you still harbour a devotion deep in your bluish veins

the used.

chevelle.

mest.

something corporate.

deftones

blink182

alexis on fire

belladonnakillz

mindless self indulgence

finch! REMEMBER FINCH!

matchbook romance

oh it was all terrible.... except deftones and something corporate... and alexis on fire... and belladonnakillz... they're still pretty awesome. right?

baby mo

2010-06-30T18:09:00.000-07:00

dear baby mo,

I will do my best to be the best. I can't wait to be the best with you.

I am trying hard to get through these twenties unscathed, baby.

We are going to do amazing things, and everyone will want to be our friend.

Finding it hard to hang on to the present with nothing but the future in mind.

such an untouchable future... but all it takes is hours and days to get there.

if i ever

2010-06-29T15:34:00.000-07:00

dear you silly young thing, rachel played this and sang this in your backyard on the 30th. the day after you didn't leave this world alive. still, you dead thing you, let's listen to this song and sway our heads from side to side, giggling at the loves that keep leaving, the sun that keeps coming up, and the living that's sustaining our bodies.

hate

2010-06-28T17:41:00.000-07:00

hate. it is a feeling congruent with anger and rage.

some people feel this when an injustice occurs, when seals die, when whales are beached. some people feel hate and disgust at the same time, when someone extremely obtuse enters the scene with horrid things to say.

the two people in my life who best evoke this feeling "hate" in me are those two who created me in whatever accident or intention sex was on that fateful day in 1987.

here i am, i have arrived and you continue to provide in a very separatist fashion. you continue to disappoint and fall short when i need things you have but aren't willing to give. there is no one else in this universe who can give me the emotions you happen to channel in me.

for this hate i feel when confrontation occurs, it is ridiculous. it is an anger i cannot repeal. it is determined. it is a drive that directs me to any clear exit on any clear day.

the smallest sense of negative overshadows any sliver of love, let me tell you.

there is nothing out there but the moons, the suns, the stars. the dark matter, the strings, and mars. there is nothing out there but useless space, atmospheres, disgrace.

however you did it, you made me dependant and needy. you made me shaky. you made me helpless. you made me fit and able. you made me loving and emotional. you made me breakable and weak. you made me capable of anger and rage. you made me capable of hate.

you made me able to turn on you. you made me solitary. you made me isolated. you made me lonely. you made me cold in the night. you made me and for this i cannot blame you, because you cannot blame or punish he who knows not what he did.

however: if it is that you want me to be independant of you. if it is that you want me to be self sufficient, an adult in this society. if it is that you want me to leave you to your life- then also it is that you recognize i can say "fuck you" at any point in time, and i might.

you cannot make me compassionate without yourself using compassion. you somehow made me pitiful though, without yourself being pitiful.

i'm full of suppressed anxiety. i'm full of medicated anxiety.

i'm full of it.

i am. and i can. and i can hate you.

it's magic

2010-06-25T20:15:00.000-07:00

well, things are too fresh to get into it yet.

i made a word-art on photoshop but i'm gonna harbour it for a few days, see if it grows to enchant or disgust me before i publicize it.

a few tid-bits of internet

wonder for you, then.

1) music: darwin deez

2) the jealous curator - a blog

3) daniel milton

4) Mike Monteiro (which is the

dude that made the images

attached to this post...

as well, he inspired my

word-art tonight.)

mantra

2010-06-22T19:45:00.000-07:00

and i recommend

baby-steps, baby

b'cuz you're one extreme to the next

just baby-step, baby

is what i suggest

b'cuz baby-steps, baby

will flex out the rest

then there is that opposite point when you say to yourself,

"Nothing can define me. I will destroy everything."

fall asleep

2010-06-21T21:21:00.001-07:00

i'm pretty sure i'm one of the most juvenile writers at the moment. maybe it's the hour of the night. maybe i am consistently writing below my potential. maybe my potential is lower than we think. whatever though. this is what came of my fingertips tonight... after being asked today what "i still would" means/what would i still would... in a sense... it sparked in me a realization that i still would a lot of things.... even if what i want is out of reach. i still would try and hold that distant possibility. you know, on good day.

-------------------------------------

i still would

fall asleep to silence

from time to time.

and if it rained, i would slumber to patters of raindrops.

i still would

fall asleep to the radio

if it just wasn't too loud.

i still would

fall asleep to silence

i would stare up at my darkened ceiling and hum

i still would

fall asleep stroking my foot against the sheet

stroking my face with my free hand

coaxing myself into dreaming.

i still would

fall asleep with your body lain next to mine

doing its own sleepy thing

i still would

fall asleep alone in the night

or the late afternoon

fall asleep alone in my room

yet i still would

quite rather

hear the sound of the patter

and your breath

calmly existing to soothe

i still would

prefer you in my room

i still would

ya i still would.

capo 4th fret, A5, G5, C5

------------------------------------------

bl'update

2010-06-21T16:29:00.000-07:00

what is the obsession with zombies? i don't ever really want to know. don't ever really tell me, just shrug it off and say you like 'em or not.

i've been having massacre dreams, and violent dreams where i'm terrified. ghandi spoke in tongue last night. ghandi had magic powers and animated an inanimate man called "The Producer". It was all very poetic, yet terrifying, and I was scared to wake up, and scared to keep sleeping.

did a bit of googling, and the vivid dreams might be some sort of side effect. I found and interesting blog from this chick in philly, USA,and she seems to be chronicling her bouts and whatever, with some interesting stats and studies to back up things. not a bad thing to read from time to time.

i've been thinking about mail. mail for molly. i hardly see the use in all this living. not to be a downer. i'm filling my days just fine lately.

this pumpkin photo is of Dani and I.... just a few minutes after I got the dead molly call.

wes anderson.

2010-06-17T20:09:00.000-07:00

luck running out.

losing one more time.

cycle come full circle, happening again.

no real directions anymore.

losing feelings

watching life aquatic. it is pretty hilarious. wes anderson is way too awesome.

words

2010-06-14T21:47:00.000-07:00

i can't seem to say anything right. i can't seem to say little enough.

i should pull a walden and hole up in my living quarters until i'm ready to associate with society again. i wouldn't write a goddamn thing worth peanuts but i'd steer clear of jeapordizing any friendships. i'd avoid negatively inflating my moods. i'd keep a grand distance between me and the others, as well as the grave.

semantics are killing me. rederick is stabbing me in the chest, in the eyes. discourse is cutting out my tongue and feeding it to a wise owl.

i will make a ten year plan, i will make a twenty year plan and i will tell no one of my whereabouts. and in twenty-one years i will creep up from the shadows and return unscathed. unscathed by the decades. unscathed by human interaction. i will be the only one of my kind, and will find compatibility with no one. but i will be no less whole than i am now, which will be remarkably more whole than anyone else at 43.

pictcha

2010-06-13T20:10:00.000-07:00

pictures look so much cooler after you change some shit up on fotoshop. fauxtoshop.

stability is a nice mind state.

im not bored of it today.

can't kick the sleepies though, mad sleepy.

coffee makes the head feel neat.

2010-06-12T09:20:00.001-07:00

coffee makes the head feel neat,
the sugar in it makes me sweet.
avoid the home your mother lives in
holy fuck, i'm avoiding it like the plague.
i apologize to my brother
because i'm leaving him there alone,
but fuck it, i don't belong there.
i can't manage it a moment.
most times i think i'm most of the conflict
and if i'm not there
or here
shit will balance out.

ohhh
i wish i was a rock star
i wish i had a black drum set in my life
i wish i was a fast car
i wish i had racing stripes on my head

but no i'm just normal i'm totally regular
ya i'm just normal, drained and plain.

oh wait,
i'm just crazy, i'm totally mad.
ya i'm just crazy i'm fucked in the head

( citation and inspiration: Lust for life by Girls)

neato blog/sites:
http://www.amosmac.com/
http://amosmac.wordpress.com/
http://www.lockupyourdaughtersmagazine.co.uk/new%20news/index.html
alison bechdel
texas toast

here here

2010-06-08T20:03:00.000-07:00

here i am being things and doing things. here i am laughing joking, and smiling. here i am shaking my head or crying. here i am being and doing. here, here i am.

falling asleep and dreaming. watching tv and breathing. here i am keeping

the world together with the invisible glue they call gravity.

what? there's no way to know it's not me.

G-unit to G20

2010-06-07T21:07:00.000-07:00

For once, a political post.
G20. I don't give much of a fuck about politics and politalks. Let them have their meeting. everybody needs to chill.

I am a product of capitalism. A child of immigrants. I am a child of free business. I am a child of the positive aspects of free business and free healthcare. I am a child of parents who believe in the liberality of our government. I am a child whose parents vote conservative. I am a child of the positive effects of hard work and smarts and success. I am a child whose parents correct my spelling and speech. I am a child of socialists striving for a chance to make it big in a liberal economy. I am a result of that success.

We are all products of our surroundings. There are few products who look just like me. There are few products who look just like you. We have the freedom to make what we want out of this world, out of this country, out of our finances and our bank statements.

I am a child of vegetable gardens and soccer on weekends.

I am told that the G20 is something I should be concerned about. That I should be an active activist against consumerism. I am a passive activist. I own what I need, I own what I like and want, I sell what I want if I want. I make shit, DIY in my bedroom and living room. I DO IT MYSELF for the sheer satisfaction of making my own photo albums and cd cover art, collage art. I don't do it in protest of free trade, i don't do it in protest of mass produced books with shitty titles. I don't do it because I can do it better. I do it so that i know i can do it. I do it because i can do it, and why should i pay someone else if i can do it myself?

I cannot make a computer. I never never never want to know how to make a computer. I don't have the patience or the interest. And so, this is a product i have no problem paying for.

I don't know if i'm talking about the right shit here or not, but that is the best part of a DIY blog, I can write anything and be incorrect at times.

That is what I'm thinking about the G20 summit. Let them have their meeting, they think they are doing some good. And don't we need more people trying to do some good?

They are going to have a meeting no matter how many protesters show up, no matter how many pamphlets are mailed. Protesters and activists are wasting valuable passive-activism time. Rallies and protests, what a shit show.

Here is to apathy. Here is to crafts. Here is to let shit happen. Maybe i'm a misinformed idiot. Don't try to convince me of things, just inform me on your perspective. Educate me on what you know. Don't preach, teach.

make lots

2010-06-05T08:53:00.000-07:00

how fucking adorable is this:
i found this on a craft website, here, here is the link
suggested as a valentine's gift. how cool would it be if there was mouldable metal? instead of clay, we could mold with metal... that would be intense.
i guess that's the point of molds... and.... welding.

along with this, i've been memorizing matthew dickman's poem "self-portrait with sadness, denis johnson, and wild turkey" so i'll have something to blather tomorrow at rehearsal.
rathskeller is my word of the day.
i'm thinking of artsy crafty ways to send letters... i am really bad with writing long letters... so i think i should make up for that with some amazing craft-stylez... and then with that, i feel like i'm endlessly copying other artier craftier people. the best advice i can give myself here is just to MAKE LOTS OF SHIT.

the scanner works fine

2010-06-03T20:38:00.000-07:00

i scanned the header, finally. and i scanned this other page

in my sketchbook that i like quite a bit.i've been thinking hard about spontaneity tonight.

about impulses and people's inclinations toward certain coping mechanisms. i've been thinking about mine. crafting is my most positive mechanism i would have to say. then comes sleeping and reading.... reading to calm down is a new good one i've picked up.

why do we have some positive and some negative mechanisms?

what are the extremes? do we all have extremes, or do some people consistently survive on tepid mechanisms while others rollercoaster the shit out of their daylives?

well, here, i'm uploading the sketchbook picture. it's a positive message with confusing visuals.

even miro

2010-06-01T21:43:00.000-07:00

Even Miro....

Evan poisoned the dinner guest. Undercooked chicken, to be specific. Way to go Evan Miro!

This post is for him.

And this post is for you.

Step one: Do not poison dinner guests.

Evan's Epic Universe Fail. Universal lesson of the day.

evening in the summer

2010-05-30T17:09:00.000-07:00

dozy head, but busy mind.

things to do

and crafts to find.

glad for the kiddos on my porch this afternoon. so good.

born ruffians on the stereo. beer bottles skeeting on our shirts.

breeze during the sundown.

supposed to supposed to

keep in mind: this is a much better day than it wouldda been.

supposed to supposed to bounce back

but i don't really know how fast.

your influence is wonderful, trust me. it's positive and wonderful.

last me as long as you can.

censor boat

2010-05-29T09:44:00.001-07:00

censorship has been stricken from our vocabulary since the reading and absorption of Orwell's "1984" and Huxley's "Brave New World".
Forget it. Forget censorship. It's just a wall built up to separate the many. To enhance anti-social behaviours. "Tell me something," something useful.
"Tell me something baseless. Tell me something."
To censor and speak is to be mute. If your thoughts and ideas are censored then you aren't expressing anything, you might as well forget how to talk. you might as well forget what these letters are used for (words). you might as well be an absurdist.
minimalists would strive to get the most across with the fewest words.

code everything, code everything but give some people the key. code everything and be completely and bluntly honest.

i really wish you'd spend the day with me in the sun. talking and laughing despite everyone. i really wish you'd spend the night. under the moon, with speakers singing in our ears, you'd let me hold you tight.

mumble.

2010-05-27T21:11:00.000-07:00

rain. please. for the love of shrubbery and foliage.

rain.

if it's a warm rain tomorrow i will pull out the bikini and dance and do kartwheels with you, mollface.

how do people ever "move on" from the dead? how?

it comes with time, they say. plenty of fucking time.

along with all that resistance to change i have, along with all that hate of the idea to move on from you, this might be the last empire i ever build.

how many times, though, have i sworn that before? one last chance for the universe to show a little sparkle. well, fuck the universe, right? oh, what do i know. even einstein only hit the tip of relativity- that took him sixty years and a PhD. well?

humanity is an island all its own. earth is a particle. a spec.

a spectacle.

and nothing's really racing through my head anymore. just crazy dreams of empty houses, lots of room to fuck and fuck shit up.

if i refuse to move with the grain? what if then? a new one, for me; thinking of "what if's" of the future.

i want to drop out of the play. i want to drop out of school. i want to pitch a tent and stare at the moon. i want to give away all my stuff. i want to keep all of my stuff. i want gertrude stein to put a baby in me. i want molly harris to kick rocks. i want molly harris to be flesh and bones instead of ash. who the fuck burns a body like that? who the fuck has the cahones (balls; spanish) to fucking do that?

what's the difference?

why do people leave used condoms on the grass?

how come coherency leaves me at the same time as annunciation? so that when i stutter and mumble words, they wouldn't make sense sounded-out either. it's a combination like peanut butter and honey- something to make your mouth sticky (peanut butter) rendering a person speech-impaired and something sweet enough (the honey) to make real words meaningless.

i wonder if the phrase "sweetness and light" will come up in "the unbearable lightness of being", i'm 200 pages in now and there's been no sign of it.

yada yada

2010-05-24T09:24:00.000-07:00

it's been an hour baby

and i'm bored without you.

a fag for the lad.

2010-05-21T09:56:00.000-07:00

to kill the taste of the last dragged cigarette,

we must have

another.

tomorrow we die

2010-05-20T13:56:00.000-07:00

i just saw the phrase "dance tonight" and it made me think something drastic but punching:

"dance tonight, tomorrow we die" dance tonight because tomorrow we die.

i'm thinking about the vivid dreams i've been having, how much i love vivid dreams. How confusing they've become. For the first and last five minutes of every day I confuse dreams for reality.

During the waking hours, I remember moments that happened in dreams and wonder what the difference would be.

During happy moments, moments of overwhelming joy, i think of nothing else but the end of it, the end on a high note.

Is it a fantasy? Is it a problem? is it a downer?

Well, those are moments that I keep to myself.

Over all the things i say over and over again, I repeat so many instances, but remain removed.

the distinctions between phantasy and the real are merged, between 2 and 5 in the morning and i say and think anything i like, i do anything i might otherwise overlook. And those are instances unique to my memory alone.

and i don't know what any of this means, there is no thesis and no theme...

reveries, if anything.