it's curtains for the cretins when they cut these strings

so last week i managed to catch part of my favourite documentaries (legendary sin cities - produced by the cbc). it was part one of three, and talked about the artistic culture of paris in the 20's (a subject near and dear to my heart, as you know). last night i lucked out and happened upon part 2 - berlin in the 20s and thirties... fascinating stuff. it amazes me how a society will take itself to the brink of decadence (liberation?) and then be repressed so dramatically in retaliation... i bring this up for no reason other than the fact that i'm going to see cabaret this evening and am kinda excited.

whoops kinda lost the plot there, didn't i? lol (you can't tell, but i actually forgot i was writing this and wandered away for an hour)

ok i'll try and give a review of the show etc later.... xo

sweat box, laser beam, flashin lights

he's probably reading this right now thinking about the same thing i'm thinking about not knowing how it makes me feel... that deep down guilty hand in the cookie jar feeling springing up from the dark places in your psyche. this sensation is the reason that sometimes, sometimes, you leave the blinds just... cracked... slightly. why when your soon to be lover comes to visit, you go into the next room to change and oops forget to close the door. why when you are out you sometimes let your top slip a little deeper skirt ride a little higher hands brush lightly linger a little too long.

will he catch me? does he know? can he see.... this?

and never kissed a girl

so now that i've 'outed' my self and my blog to someone i'm interested in, i'm wondering to myself in what ways it will impact the way i write. it's not like mikeb - he's known me from the beginning of this thing, reads sporadically if ever, and... well... accepts me for who i am - midnight escapades, temper tantrums, navel gazing and all. he's my bestest friend - that's what he's supposed to do.

i could never, on the other hand, tell the sister about it. if she ever found out, i would have to cease and desist immediately and go into hiding - like we're talking witness protection program hiding - like all of a sudden spo has an.... australian roommate. yeah, australian. that's it. pass the fosters and throw another shrimp on the barbie. (i know, i know.. it's a prahhhwwwwnnn not a shrimp)

anyhoo.

yeah, so how will this work? if we ended up dating long term, would i be afraid to write about stuff we'd done or said, or if i was unhappy about something, or angry about something?

(i asked him yesterday if he'd found the sex stuff yet. he said no, then asked if he might end up in here, if we were to.. erm.. you know. when i said yes he seemed ok with that fact. which, i thought, was cool.)

i mean this blog is still... 70% true. and even some of the stuff that isn't true has a kernel of truth hidden within it. but i don't reveal *every*thing that happens to me, or that i think about or feel or experience here. shocking, i know. if i did, though, i'd just be here all day long and never have a chance to go out and live, so, inevitably, would not really have anything to write about, anyway. which would kind of defeat the point, wouldn't it?

o be joyful (cause that shit spreads)

i heart the sunshine. what girl can be verklempt when it's sunny out? not i said the fly... (you told me you wanted to eat up my sadness well jump right enjoy and gorge away)

ug i'm trying to write am lying here listening to music and the dog snoring, my feet are hot and my eyes are heavy like i haven't slept in weeks and the words won't come won't flow.

interesting development - i told a boy about the blog. he's read it. it doesn't scare me. crazy huh?


goin' outside. tell me stories, please.

night after night

i am trying to write something centred around the words 'pugilist'and 'vigilante' but not to do with fighting or violence, more to do with a street scene i have in my head - driving through summer nights with the window down, scent of flowering trees in the air, streetlights flashing 'cause it's after midnight.

i come from a place where,
at some of the major intersections,
the streetlights are set to 'flash' at midnight.

the archaic quaintness of the idea that
there are so few people on the road
past midnight
that regular traffic signals are not required

charms me
more than the blind faith in drivers' ability to follow
standard four way stop procedures.

clearly these city planners have never visited
vancouver in a rainstorm.

someday i'll walk away and say you fucking disappoint me

now i may have talked about this before, but for me the beginning of the year is the beginning of september. i think that this is for a combination of reasons - my birthday falls in mid august, so a 'new year' begins then, but also because i spent so long in school. for me, fall feels fresh and clean. the air is crisp and there is a strange sense of excitement in the air.

maybe i'm just getting in touch with my inner celt.

in any case, i think part of my strange sense of transition lies in the fact that i feel as though i'm building towards something new - i feel as though there is some kind of change on my horizon. i'm not sure what shape that change will take, just that it is there. i'm excited and filled with trepidation at the same time. i'm looking forward to what comes next and i'm making plans. i caught myself contemplating my career yesterday, and actually made an appointment to talk to my boss about it. i've never done that before - work has just been something i got up each day and did; it was *work* not a *career* or a path.

i've decided to try and finish my thesis, as well. yeah i know i've said that before, but i think that this time i mean it - i'm just so close. why wouldn't i?

i want to take a sommalier course. i want to take a class or two towards my job. right now i can do more with our database than almost anyone else in our company. i should capitalize upon that and make myself indispensible.

i want to surround myself with intelligent, energetic, positive people. i have no time for those who don't care about the world around them, and who view it with negativity or contempt. this is where we dwell - we fashion our environment with our gaze and our spirit. it is our choice to make it a negative place or a beautiful one. which do you choose?

i've also begun 'coming clean' - i am realizing my habit of holding my secrets inside is toxic. somethings should be brought out into the open so that they can't poison you from within, and i've begun to do that. for example, last night i went out with my boss. she's a lot like me - her first instinct is to try and face hardship and difficult situations on her own. like me, she doesn't want to inconvenience anyone with her emotion. she's splitting up with her husband right now, and it's not the best situation, and it's forced her to reach out to the people around her and develop a support network. this is a lesson i, too, learned the hard way, and, for the first time last night, i told her a bit of everything that went on with crazyjeremy, with mr m two years ago, with me in general. i told her how my dad is having brain surgery on the fourth, and sort of intimated how i am very afraid. i told her a bit about the kiddo's dad, and about raising the kiddo on my own and how proud of *myself* i am starting to be (this, too, is a new and wondrous sensation for me).

man, just saying that outloud makes me stop and think of how rare it is for me to be proud of MYSELF. i'm so nearsighted when it comes to my own accomplishments. i need to learn how to step back and enjoy them, rather than dash headlong from one thing to the next without savouring the small victories which come each day.

ahh i don't know where i'm going with this. some days i feel like everything i write here is negative and pointless - i'm using my keyboard to masturbate my angst - today i feel excited and positive and i wanted to share that, too.

matt good is back at the top of his game and tony is writing love letters, but not to me....

xo

(ps - i know the pic is a repeat. it just kinda fit my mood today...)

incredulous at best your desire to believe in

ok so i have gone on an average of 3 'first dates' a week for the past month. that's pretty good, i figure.

here are some things i've figured out:
1) guys don't want to date women who have kids
2) guys don't want to date women who don't want kids
3) it doesn't matter if i get naked on the first date, don't get naked on the first date, dress up, dress down, am vivacious and flirty or am a quiet good listener - guys only want to shag me.
4) if i do put out on the first date, nine times out of ten they don't call back
5) if i don't put out on the first date, nine times out of ten they don't call back
6) if they do call back, it's usually to say that they aren't looking for a relationship right now, but would like to 'take it one step at a time'
7) 'take it one step at a time' means hang out long enough to a) shag again or b) shag for the first time, and *then* stop calling
8) none of the advice that anyone has given me has worked

so i'm trying to remain optimistic, but i fear that i am becoming jaded. yes, yes, i know. i mean MORE jaded. i have to admit that i've had sick headaches for a week and haven't been able to hold down my meds, so am a tad more navel-gazing than normal, but i am still lucid. mostly.

i think perhaps it has something to do with this sense of ephemerality i'm having right now... even my job is feeling very limited, and limiting. and usually i LOVE my job and everything to do with it.

ah i dunno. i need some sunshine.

and lo, the apocalypse is nigh

so last night i was on my way to another first date (ha eat that adam sandler. fifty. pshaw) when i noticed that one of my tires felt a little squishy. yes, that is the technical term.

so, naturally, i pulled into a convenient esso station to rectify the situation and continue on my way. safety first, and all that. i putter around to the air pump and pull up; jump out of the car, handy-dandy tire gauge thrust out in front of me like orlando bloom in that kingdom of heaven movie when what do i see?

no.

it can't possibly be?

yup.

air - 50cents.


i mean, i am used to spending more per litre of water than i do for gasoline (and that's not an easy thing to do these days) but now i find that the gas company is not ONLY gouging me to fill up my car but also to fill up my TIRES?! WHAT THE FUCK?

how is that even allowed? how can they possibly be allowed to charge for AIR?

someone please explain this to me.

what's my age again?

so i was sitting in the living room this morning with my mama, sipping an au lait and leafing through the weekend paper while 'to kill a mockingbird' played softly in the background.

i came across a feature article written about adults who don't grow up - about the societal changes that have taken place which differentiate parents of *my* generation from parents of ... well... myparents. it talks about how, nowadays, it is quite common to see folks in their thirties hanging out with their kids - going to concerts, downloading music, kitesurfing, snowboarding, you know - all the stuff that i do on a weekly, if not daily, basis. however, the article just kind of illustrates the actuality of it, and fails to delve into the *why*.

why is it that parents are so much 'younger' now? or, more appropriately, i guess, is it considered more acceptable for parents to shrug off the weight of familial roles - to blur the lines between mom and dad and offspring as commonly as it is now to shrug off the traditional gender roles of mom staying home in the kitchen while dad goes to work every day?

or is that what is really happening?

i don't see myself as being my kid's friend. i'm his parent - first and foremost. i do have a much more open relationship with him than i did with my parents - this is something that i've purposefully put in place in an effort to do away with the vast gulf that exists, to this day, between my mom and dad an i. when i was growing up i was dead afraid to be honest with them about anything, because i knew i'd get into trouble. so, whenever i had something painful or stressful to deal with, i just internalized it and pretended it wasn't happening - i didn't have an adult support system. i never wanted to have that happen with the kiddo and i, so i made great efforts to keep the lines of communication open - to make sure that he knows that, even though i may not approve of what he's telling me, i will always listen and be supportive and offer advice or succor to the best of my abilities.

(as an aside, the sister scoffed at the idea that this relationship was something i've built purposefully. she figures it's just the kiddo's nature to be honest. which it is, of course, but let's not kid - his honesty and openness with me is one of my proudest accomplishments as a parent. it's not an easy thing to develop and maintain - especially now that he's 16 going on 32 and thinks he's seen it all. heh. she should just wait till she has kids and realizes how hard it actually is to walk the line between parental panic at what you are being told and calmly and rationally accepting the fact that this *person* beside you has a life of their own and as easily capable of hiding it from you as you are at hiding yours from them. but anyway...)

i don't think that parents should view or treat their kids as their best friends - there has to be a level of detachment. kids still need to know that you are strong enough to guide them through the rough times. when they want friends, they'll go to their peers. they need the discipline and the security that comes from knowing that there is someone with authority who is manning the gates, as it were.

however, i also don't think that, just because a person becomes a parent they should give up their life and their interests. kids shouldn't mean that you have to change who you are. they should enhance your life and give you a new appreciation of the world and the wonders within it. kids can, if you let them, keep you young - they see the world with new perspectives, without the world-weariness of someone who has been there, done that. and they are people - they have opinions and attitudes and interests of their own, and they learn different things and have different perspectives which can only serve to enhance those of whom they choose to share them with.

i know that there are people who don't agree with the way i'm raising my kid. i know that, at times, it's hard for *my* parents to understand. when he was going through such a rough patch a couple of years ago, a woman who knew me kind of remotely told me that it was my fault - that because i worked so much and lived my life the way i have, i was too blame for him being "fucked up" (her words not mine). that was hard to take, at the time, 'cause it spoke to any parent's deepest fear - that your failings as a parent have damaged your children.

but i also know that my son and i have an amazing relationship. i know that he will cancel plans with his friends to hang out with me. i watched him, when we were at the nine inch nails show, make a wall with his body between me and some guys who were totally slam dancing to keep me from getting banged around. i know that he's kind of a momma's boy, even though you'd never know it. and, more than anything, i know he respects me, my opinions, and my intelligence, and he knows that i love him fiercely and will stick by him through anything.

and that, i think, is the most important thing of all.

let it pass let it pass let it pass over you

ok so for the second morning in a row i've woken up with a draft beer headache. this wouldn't irritate me as greatly if i'd actually been *drinking* draft beer last night, but whatevs.

the sister and i rode all along the richmond dyke last night - all in all, about 15km or so. not a bad ride. she led the way down, so it was... erm.... let's say a leisurely pace. i, however, was in the lead on our return, so we moved a little quickly. she had jello legs at the end. heheh. we rode past this little spot called finn slough - it's the last working fishing village on the fraser river, and is a wonderful little spot. if you click the link you can look at all sorts of photos, and learn about the interesting history of the area.

i really like steveston for exactly this reason - vancouver is still so *new*, and it's hard to get a sense of history when you are here. places like finn slough are steeped in a sense of the past - like you have stepped out of your own time and into a place that is simpler, less rushed, just better.

there is enough hippie in me that the idea of living somewhere isolated from the city really appeals to me. if i didn't murder every green thing that comes into my line of vision, i love the idea of growing vegetables and stuff, you know?

ah well... maybe if i am good, demeter will let me grow some herbs in pots this year....

his sight goes red again

i have this homepage thing that gives me headlines, horoscopes, and comix in the morning. i come into work, check my voicemail, scan over my emails for anything urgent, make coffee and read this as a way to settle into my day. this morning i encountered an article in an online sanfrancisco paper extremely interesting, as it mirrors a)some of my own uneasiness with our current medical system and b)the sarcastic journalistic writing style i aspire to:

But you do not have to believe me. You merely need to glance at the latest version of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (known to devotees as DSM-IV), the deeply creepy bible of the psychiatric profession.

The DSM, it is like a tumor. It is like a Christian megachurch. And while it has been, I'm sure, hugely helpful and necessary to many, it is churning and growing and seething all the time, swallowing all of humanity in its vortex of new and vaguely quantifiable suffering. To read any part of it is to come away convinced you suffer from at least a dozen happy disorders.

Which is just another way of saying we are aswim in a bizarre and surreal system, one in which shiny good-hearted doctors conduct well-funded studies and then write the descriptions of the resultant disorder they invariably find (and they always, always find something), then turn around and make a nice payment on their sweet new Mercedes SL with the money they made from the pharmaceutical company that paid them to identify the new disorder for which the pharmco can now invent fun, toxic, new behavior-modifying drugs to treat. See? Everybody's happy.

I am now enjoying this trend. Surely, the next major update of the DSM, in 2011, will include all manner of new conditions, including IED. But perhaps it can also include other common afflictions of the modern world.

Let us now suggest: Rumsfeld Hope/Joy Dysplasia, or Oozing Coulter Panic Arrhythmia, or Spasmodic Ben Stiller Recoil. Let us offer up, say, Sudden Leather-Whiffing Swoon Syndrome, or Fingerling Potato Polycystic Neuroplasmia, or Diastrophic Cervical Frat Boy Rejection Clampdown. Then there's always Hyperkinetic Eyeball Flutter Related to Excessive Images of Dead Innocent Iraqis (HEFREIDII).

GOP Colon Self-Knotting Disease. Jingoism Synapse Slaughter. Jesus Did Not Say That Repetitive Exclamation Fatigue. Vatican-Induced Blood-Boiling Soul Trauma. Lynne Cheney.

Why not define some of your own? Submit them to the DSM-V, laugh and watch your own tendency toward IED drop dramatically. Hell, who needs Prozac?
- Mark Morford

read the whole article here.

i stick my fingers into my eyes

i'm in a funny headplace. i'm trying to force myself into transition i feel the need to enact a paradigm shift in my own existance. i'm making lists and lists and lists - things i have, things i no longer own but will need to buy, and, of all things, goals. in all this time i've never ever made a list of goals for myself - a list of goals in writing on a page with space to tick them off as they reach completion with space to stare at me accusingly as they remain unticked. i've given myself a hard deadline of september 15 to be on the move - this inbetween world of my current life grows cloying and i no longer can maintain my semi-conciousness. i need to be on my own.

i have stayed living in my current space because it's been easy, and 'cause my dad's been sick, and because i've been afraid - afraid to be by myself, here, in this city where it is so hard to make connections with people and so hard to be alone. but, when i stop and consider, i have made connections - i have met people, and now i want to bring them into my world instead of briefly dipping my toes into the pool of theirs.

you are all invited.

xo

bare me no ill will i'm there

so my li'l brother has asked where i find these guys. well you see, a long time ago, tom cruise approached me with a proposition. he offered me the opportunity to be the breeding ground for his first alien fetus - the initial assault, shall we say, in his bid for world domination. i, of course, said hells no - first of all, i don't find him attractive in the least. having sex with him would require a feat of imaginative powers that exceed even my own. second - i had no desire to become a scientologist. i was worried that i may have to hang with john travolta on a semi-regular basis. that dancing thing must grow old pretty fast - i mean, for how many movies can you really expect a thrusting finger and a hip wiggle to disguise the fact that my left bcbg boot is a better actor than you are?

tom, of course, does not take rejection well (look what he did to poor nicole's face). however, he balked at tampering with my seductive beauty, and instead decided to put it to work against me. he implanted a top-secret military weapon in my brain - an asshole magnet. any asshole within a 72 mile radius will be hypnotically drawn into my presence. no big deal, you may be thinking to yourself. just fend them off with your superpowers, sweet raspberry.

no can do, my friends, no can do.

see, this magnet also counteracts any asshole repelling superpowers i have - it's like kryptonite to my no-asshole mojo. i'm rendered helpless by their charms. and, frighteninly, it works exponentially: the bigger the asshole, the sweeter, more attracted, and more defenseless i become. and, conversely, the nicer the guy, the more repelled i am.

i currently have a secret laboratory full of the most brilliant scientists and mojo-fixers frenetically working away at a cure. in the meantime, i'm doomed to date asshole after asshole.

le sigh.


(in boat boy's defense, it was actually his friend who did the text messaging. he was unaware of the whole thing till the end. he apologized profusely yesterday. in any case, i'm still pretty much turned off by him and the whole escapade. the scientists must be making some headway....)

but lately I feel like I'm just gonna rain and it goes over, and over, and over again

i wish i could figure a way out to forward myself entire transcripts of text message conversations. it started innocently enough.... with the boat boy trying to talk me into getting out of bed and come over 'cause he was horny. he'd been out with some friends earlier - his best buddy and a girl - and was home now. i had maybe been going to meet up with them but didn't.

anyway, about halfway through the conversation he was telling me how worked up him and (insert female name here) were, and how they wanted me.

what to the the fuck?

oh wait - apparently the big conversation we had about how i wasn't looking for casual sex was a figment of my imagination. the part where i specifically said i was looking for *more* and he said that he was too somehow was all talk. he signed off the text messages after i said i wasn't interested in just being his piece of ass - as he had to "finish what he started". then, about five minutes later, he was back asking if i had plans for tomorrow and if i wanted to fuck.

oh i'm so confused.

didn't we just HAVE this conversation?

i'm sure we did. wait - let me scroll back through the ... ah yes. here it is. I DON'T WANT TO JUST BE YOUR PIECE OF ASS. yes - i was quite clear, though the .... oh hang on. new text message. "my friend (insert female name here) abducted my phone. i'm sorry - it wasn't me".

AGAIN. WHAT TO THE THE FUCK?

oh i'm so confused.....

you were the last good thing about this part of town

so what's the usual length of time you date someone before you stop dating, or trying to date, other people? i know it usually depends from person to person but on average? i'm just curious. and how do you ask someone that you've kinda been seeing that question? or should you? my problem is that i like to know where i stand. i hate the not knowing, you know? like i don't want to hang out with someone and invest time and energy, then find out after a few weeks that you aren't really what they are looking for, you have just been fun in the meantime. you know? and i don't have any real reason for asking this, i guess. i've been out with the boat boy twice, and have talked to him pretty much every day for the past three weeks or so - clearly too early to be exclusive. or is it? i just don't know. i'm not good with this dating thing. i'm good with meeting someone, totally digging their company, and being with that person. or - on the complete opposite side of the spectrum - meeting someone, being totally attracted to them, getting naked with them, and never looking back.

le sigh.

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

so today i took screetus along the seawall. ok let's tell the truth, here - i made him walk about ten kilometers across vancouver, down the seawall, around stanley park, and back across vancouver. along the route we ate gelato, saw lululemon clad exercise junkies, checked out the rock piles on english bay, and saw a pack of naked cyclists blocking traffic on denman street.

yup.

naked.

on bicycles.

naked cyclists.

only in vancouver.

i also pointed out my favourite cupcake spot, but i had just finished gelato and heck i can't very well be gluttinous in front of someone who's only just met me...so last night i hung out with the boat boy again. he puzzles me - he's intensely private (he lives somewhere you can only reach BY BOAT for jeebus' sake), so getting him to talk about himself is pretty much impossible. but hell, you know me and unavailable men. like a bee to honey... a bee to honey. i say again - le sigh. when oh when will you learn little raspberry girl?

can we briefly revisit the fact that i watched fifty naked people ride their bikes up a major downtown throughfare this afternoon? i don't care HOW culturally advanced toronto thinks it is - but judging by the look on screetus' face, i betcha they don't see that shit very often. and let's not kid - there are fewer higher cultural peaks than naked bike riders.

in a pack.

on a saturday afternoon.

in tourist season.

i love summer.

hurdle through the forest of doubt

so what do i want to say?
i had all this stuff this morning - stuff about driving in the rain and wishing the sun was shining, but i seem to have lost it all. i guess maybe 'cause it's fourteen hours later and who the heck can be expected to hold a thought for that long? not i said the fly.

so last night i was going to go out with a wildlife photographer - he was going to show me how to use my camera (oh is that what the kids are calling it these days?). it was a beautiful night, though, so instead i went to the sister's place. we rode bikes (her on a chopper, me on her bf's bmx, and went down to the point and had some supper on the beach. then we cruised around a little more, and back through the village, had some gelato, and headed off home. it was one of my favourite nights in a long time.

i might be burning out of the party party thing. all i want to do now is hang out with my sister and my friends and lie on the beach and read books. i want to go to yoga and drink some beer on a patio. i want to hang out with the boat boy, or another nice fun boy who likes me lots and lots and go for walks and hold hands and lie face to face naked on a bed, on top of the blankets because it's too hot to crawl underneath, let the cool breeze from the fan wash slowly over us, and talk and kiss.

any takers? you must be cute. you must like summer nights and beer. you must be willing to hold my hand when we go walking. you must be willing to give me my space. you must like to kiss and talk and sometimes do nothing else but that. you must like chocolate croissants, or be willing to maybe go get me one for breakfast every once in a while (ohh an americano, too). you must like seeing me wear skirts and know that i really like it when you put your hand on the curve under my ass - just at the top of my thigh, and when you hold it lightly on the small of my back when we are standing side by side. you must be able to have a conversation with me. you must get along with the sister and mike b. most of all you must like me for ME - not for my tits or my mouth or the way i fuck.

still interested? you know how to find me.

all I wanna do is stand in this lie

i introduced a boy to my favourite pub last night. he's a drug rep so is an interesting friendship to cultivate.. i like to test people based on the reaction they have to this place. sure it's in my little town and sure it's in the middle of nowhere but the patio is pretty much unsurpassed in the lower mainland, the drinks are reasonably priced, the service is good and the food is great. i'm not sure what i'm seeking in people's reactions - perhaps some recognition of the fact that i'm letting them in on a little secret, a hidden place that i don't show to everyone. the drug rep guy kinda got it - i could see a hint of revelation in his eyes.

halfway through the evening boat boy called - my phone lit up like christmas and sure enough there he was and it was all i could do to not answer. i called him back when i got home - lying on my bed in the dark, half undressed, breeze lilting through the window, dancing across my skin.

'i'm half drunk' he said.
'funny - me too' my eyes closed, smile at my lips.
'where are you right now?' i descriped the scene painted on the back of my eyelids, drowsily adding details as they appeared in my mind.
'hm. don't you wish you were here?' he asked. i said yes, of course i did, but really i didn't want to be. i wanted his voice in my mind, leading my imagination by the hand through his desire and fantasy.
'are you coming to see me friday?'
'mmmm' i breathed.
'do you want to hear what i'm going to do to you when you get here?' that's what i want - i want the flight of fancy. it's always so much better when i play the scene for myself.

let the love in, let the love in, come back to me

ok

so

i think it is safe to say that i am in desparate need of a vacation.

why do i think this? well, for one, i can't stop thinking about work. for two, i failed to allow another car to change lanes in front of me this morning - i wasn't an asshole, and didn't *prevent* it from happening, i just didn't slow down to accommodate them. for three, i was hanging out with a boy last night and i found myself tensing up every time he touched me. and he's a nice boy - a cute boy, and he didn't affect me like this the other night.

hmfph.

what should i do? i don't have a lot of money. i could maybe scrape together enough airfair to go to rotterdam. or perhaps i could pop down to LA for a couple of days. i've been to neither place. i don't really want to go by myself though. i can do solo vacations, but i find it's more fun when you have someone to adventure with. and, of course, there is the alberta crew, but that's not so far from home.

hmmmm....

In theory, there is no difference between theory and practice; In practice, there is. (chuck reid)

happy birthday chad

wake up and face me

ok i am no longer allowed to have the keys. i just went to the bank on my way home, came out after depositing money and discovered i'd locked my keys in the car. well done , me - keyless adventures twice in one week (you'll understand when i tell the saga of sunday). fortunately, there was a nice gentleman standing staring at his apartment building as he'd locked himself out of it. he had a bungee cord. it is, indeed, possible to break into my car with a will and a bungee cord. don't ask.

he said he had noticed me and wondered what someone like me was doing at a bank in tsawwassen at 7.30 in the morning. i replied 'unsaid - looking like i haven't been home yet?' he laughed and said he had noticed but it wasn't his place to comment. then he asked if it had been a good night. why yes, yes indeed it was not bad at all.

i sunburned my lips so badly last weekend that i am missing a huge chunk of skin on my lower lip where it peeled. it hurts like a motherfucker, and is, needless to say, damm sexy. rawr.

------------------------------------------------------------------------
he took my bottom lip between his teeth. i gasped a little and my eyes widened - it hurts where it was sunburned and even kissing is spiked with pain. 'does that hurt?' he asked. i nodded, eyes still wide. he bit down a little harder and the electricity charged up my spine into my brain - white hot on fire. he rolled me over on top of him, pressing himself against me, still holding my lip between his teeth. the sensations radiated out into my fingertips, my ass, shivers extending across my skin. he reached up and took my breasts in his hands, squeezing the nipples between thumb and forefinger - hard, harder, hardest. 'what about now?' my back arched, my lip nearly ripping free from his teeth but he me firm with his teeth, his fingers, pushing his cock inside me. 'and now? how does it feel now?'

speak the truth, or make your peace some other way

i really do like that godsmack song.

i don't feel like writing about sunday right now, even though it was possibly the most... shall we say *eventful* day i've had in a very long time. it's supposed to rain all weekend, though, so maybe i'll get to it tomorrow or sunday. not tonight - i've got plans. sorry.

other maintenance -
lurkers, i know you are out there. if you link to me would you please let me know so i can update my blogroll? i'm not so good about following up on that stuff, but i'd like to return the favour. leave a comment, or if you prefer, shoot me an email and we'll keep it on the down to the l-o, if you get my drift.

homesqueeze.

you know who you are.


xo

in a dictatorship you don't have to waste your time voting

i like little twists of synchronicity. you know, like how the other day i posted spam bukowski. then, this morning, i was waking up with tony like i do everyday and he was talking about bukowski and how he doesn't read him enough (me either, baby). and then, when i went over to google to look up ride share here in vancouver 'cause gas prices are cutting in to my beer-and-shoe budget, what should pop up but one of my favourite quotes from sir charles himself.

i heart that.

so last night i was all set to go home and post day two of sasquatch for you, but i ended up going for a drink with a guy i met over the innerweb and then the drink turned into dinner and then dinner turned into going back to his place and his place turned out to be at a house accessible only by boat so wtf i guess i had to stay over 'cause i sure as heck ain't rude enough to make someone drive (boat? sail?) me back to shore in the middle of the night. and you know, he kissed really sweetly and so one thing led to another (again) (as it often does) and we stayed up super late and got up at 4.30 so i could get home to shower and change and come to work. sure i coulda worn the same clothes two days in a row but i chucked my underwear overboard on the way to his place and didn't want to show up for work ala commando. you know how it is.

day two - saturday
so mikeb had to drive back to vancity on friday night after the show to participate in a rowing regatta first thing saturday morning. he's way more responsible than i am, man, cause i would have said fuckthatshit and just kept getting drunk. which i did. he left the kiddo, l-o and i to our own devices and a cooler of beer. we got up saturday and broke out the campstove and proceeded to make pancakes, which, by the way, is a two person job when the people are hungover and you are using a kerosene stove. you know, just in case you were curious. we have no photos of the scrambled pancakes, but the edmonton boys didn't mind them at all. some guy was randomly walking past and we gave him some pancakes too. he tried to give us money but that's dumb - karma is sweet to you (and trust me i'm awaiting my payback with bated breath) if you are sweet to her first. (he came back sunday, too, but he missed out by like forty seconds) (serves him for sleeping in).

annnyhooo. as soon as breakfast was cleared up we pulled the camp chairs up with our friends and broke into the beer. after we'd had a few, we packed up some snax, some pb&j sandwiches, and some bottled water and headed down to the show. we got there in time to see the second half of gomez on the side stage, and the rest of the bands from there on in. the sun was shining, we were surrounded by good company, we were all half cut, and the music was great. how could a day get better?

heh.


well, i'll tell you how it could *not* get better - by the skies opening up to the biggest thunderstorms i've seen since leaving peegee, replete with pouring rain, wind, and driving hail. like, two inches worth of hail on the ground. we hauled out the emergency rain ponchos i'd fortuitously purchased before leaving home and struggled against the wind to catch the constantines. who had started their set early. who got to play one song before being shut down due to weather. they hung around on stage to see if they could start again, and some diehard in the crowd in front of them broke into an impromptu chorus of 'oh canada'. the rest of us diehards joined in. the poor kiddo, though, seems to be doomed to never see them play live.

the venue shut down the side stages, so, soaked, we all moved over to the main stage. the hip came next, then the shins, and then the flaming lips where scheduled to come up next. however, because everyone was tired and wet and cold, and you couldn't purchase a hot drink within the venue to save your life, the promoters flipped ben harper and the lips, so that ben harper took the stage next. now, i'm not a die hard ben harper fan - i enjoy his stuff, and even have a few albums, but i don't have heart palpitations if i don't get a listen fix on a regular basis, you know? with that said, there were moments in his 2 and a half hour long set where he was so into the music you could have sworn he was crying. the passion and talent he displayed were, perhaps, unmatched at that event - and i saw some great acts. sadly, i don't have any photos, 'cause mikeb was on a picture bender during nin and my camera batteries died just as the shins started playing. i do, however, have pictures in my mind that i'll have forever.

next up - sunday. sunshine, kisses, keys, and the amazing ems staff of quincy washington....

it's a love affair - mainly jesus and my hotrod

so we went to this three day festival right - me, mike b, his friend l-o and the kiddo. perhaps when, five minutes down the road, i realized i had forgotten the tent i should have taken it as an inauspicious sign, but heck, what's a road trip without a few adventures, right?

right.

ahem.

part one - friday
so after returning for the tent, we made it across the border with no real hitches. we hit a couple o' parking lots on the freeway, and stopped at an albertsons for provisions (and when i say provisions, i mean beer. clearly.) (ok we may have bought some apples and peanut butter too. but i digress.) we arrived at the gorge on a beautiful friday evening and fell into what became the rhythm of the weekend - missing bands in favour of campground comradarie. we set up the tents, threw the beer in the cooler (no room for food. good sign.) and made friends with the neighbours. so interesting that we'd driven five hours deep into another country only to find ourselves surrounded by albertans. le sigh.

now being my raspberry self, i immediately developed a crush on one of them. go me. sadly, i'd sworn off men and unnecessary nudity for the weekend, given the presence of the kiddo. i did, however, manage to procure his email address by the end of the weekend and, now that i've translated the drunken chicken scratch in my journal, i've sent him a quick note to say hello. perhaps a roadtrip to edmonton is in the works for the summer, hm?)aaaanyhooo..... so we settle in to drink some beer, having come to grips with the fact that we will be missing some of the bands playing friday night (and when i say some, i mean all save NIN). the calgary girls in the tent to our right had been abandoned by their friends, who were in charge of bringing the beer, so we adopted them and poured liquor down their throats. ah the unifying properties of sweet sweet alcohol never fail to amaze me... as it got dark, we tucked our things away and headed off down to the ampitheatre. as we walked down, the kiddo had a bit of a vomit (another theme for the weekend), but reaching the show was pretty uneventful.

inside, however, it was kind of a gong show. a small order of curly fries was $5.50US. beer was $8.25. there were drunken people everywhere and vomit on the ground (see, toldya). we picked up some burgers etc as a makeshift dinner and were walking down to the stage when we passed by some guy who was pretty much twitching on the ground. the kiddo and i stopped to see if he was ok - his eyes were nearly rolling back in his head. we sat him up, the kiddo handed him the remaining half of his burger, and we watched him eat it, then continued on our way. who the hell leaves their friends like that? i don't get people.
anyway, we made it to within about 40ft of the stage - NIN put on a great show: all sorts of lights and smoke and spectacle. he did, however, pretend to play the keyboards during one of his songs (hurt, i think) - his keyboard player was hidden in the darkness at the back of the stage, but trent's hands were clearly not moving in time to the music. after the show we herded back to the campground and met up with our edmontonian friends (the calgary girls had succumbed to beer for dinner and passed out by the time we returned), and got to bed.

next: saturday - nature's wrath and ben harper....

spam bukowski

Anthem Anthem
mad...
Tuesday Channel Fuck
impacted
capital churning impacted capital churning
newly recruits witnessed firepower
backIron copy
bumping tapings Youre look.
Property unleashes Property unleashes

my fifty mission cap

things learned this weekend

emergency rain ponchos - best investment ever

trent reznor fake-plays the piano on stage

you should never hand the only set of car keys to me when i'm panicked /distracted by a projectile vomitting kiddo. i will lose them.

it is humanly possible to go for distance when puking

there are no taxies in quincy, washington

i heart london gourmet brand blueberry trailmix

people from alberta aren't that bad.

the walls at the 'country cabin' motel (in quincy washington) are really not very thick at all.

i can, indeed, wear my contacts day and night for three days.

ok that's all for now. i need to make my eyes not wear plastic bits, and i need to go to sleep. someone, somewhere needs to write an epic poem about my last 26 hours. you'll understand tomorrow..... :)

bunk skunk trunk

i will write you in the style of the raspberry, to pretend it's her. it's not though, it's me again. i'm in charge of keeping posts in this blog so it keeps the hits and it keeps it's readers. i also guess i need to keep the style and tradition you all have come to expect in raspberry land.

you know she once went into my blog and posted about her sexual encounter in a car? i told her to be dirty and shit, and she pulled through in flying colors. so in that sense i will tell you about ridley's first time. you know i'm not even doing this for you, i'm doing this for rasp really, cuz i know she'll get a kick out of it. but i hope you appreciate it.

ok my first came when i was 19. i know, shitty. especially when all my friends were like "dude i had some major sex the other day, man it was banging!" you know they're problaby full of shit, but you believe it anyways eh? i then you wonder "how do I get that?" and "how does it even feel?"and then shit becomes depressing, and then you act like an idiot. man, youth is retarded. i don't even wanna touch the ridley i was when i was in high school. anyways....

i was seeing this girl for a good month or month and half or so, and it was getting heavy, and some heavy petting occured, and boobaged happened (by then I never have held a true boob), and all that fun stuff. she knew i was a virgin. she could sense it in my eyes, in my weirded-out-ness, she wasn't one of course, but she would "teach" me. ok I was still kinda weirded out on the whole thing because as a guy I was supposed to know, y'know?

it wasn't romantic at all. it was like 3 in the afternoon, we were at her mom's house watching tv, and her mom came home and we went upstairs to "listen to music," in which she put on Dr Dre 2000, her favorite rap record. she then took off her clothes to reveal a black bra and matching panties. she then told me to take off my pants to play with my penis. she then mounted me, and asked me if I could stick it in. of course I said (I mean come on). she then groaned and gave this sexy look that I will always remember because it became the look I would always see when we were fucking. I'm sure all girls have a look, but that was her look. It was unique, it was something burned in my mind, it made me horny when I thought about it. It's funny because you think of the uniqueness of the people you go out with and you think like music, or like common interests, or like a smile, or like a joke, or like a saying. the look was for me. you could not replicate it.

it was done quickly, she changed, i sat down and thought "that was it?" then I went home and thought about it some more and congratulated myself in that pathetic sort of way. but it was an accomplishment, a rite of passage, no one forgets that, no one forgets who, no one forgets the clothes, the scenery, the noises, the sensation as different as you thought it would be.

needless to say, the next time was much much better, and much more proper.

i know, not as sexy or quality as a quality rasp sex post, it's not my style, but I tried and it's something at least that everyone can relate to.

let's get sandy!!!

Since I'm Rasp's Evil Twin Brother, I have known her for a while. But now that she's gone I can tell you a bunch of things about her you might not know:

1) She likes to tell people that she gives money to homeless people, but she doesn't
2) Raspberry is not her favorite fruit. It's problaby not even top 5.
3) She had black and she went back
4) Her favorite Beatle song is "Maxwell's Silver Hammer," sneers when someone mentions the White Album
5) When she is "Away" on MSN, she isn't really
6) Once punched out a guy on street because he looked at her funny. She went "WHAT?!" and Poof! he was on the floor
7) She hasn't even shown you her favorite tattoo
8) Once saved a man in Reno
9) Then killed him
10) She received a spanking from Prince William
11) Her favorite emoticon is the one with the humping stormtrooper
12) When she cries, she looks at herself in the mirror, just so she can freak herself out
13) Told a racist joke to a dead baby
14) Secretly cheers for the Edmonton Oilers
15) Her favorite t-shirt is the one that has the Good Times guy that says "Dynomiteee!"
16) Hated Lord Of The Rings
17) She has a friend whose birthday lands on Christmas. She double gifts.
18) Made Paul McCartney divorce his ex-wife
19) Not even a natural blonde.....more like strawberry blonde
20) Didn't even go to the festival, she's hunting secret maneating aliens in the dessert....

Oops, I've said too much

one last thing before i go

raspberry out.

swim out past the breakers, watch the world die

ok kids so i'm outtie-500. which is to say, work will probably be nuts as everyone realizes i'm not going to be here until tuesday, and i'm going to the constantines tonight and so probably won't be able to post again till i get back monday. i'll try and take lots of pictures, and will be thinking of you with love.

in the meantime i leave you in the capable hands of my twin brother, mister ridley thunder. or, if he should feel so inclined nk. or heck, even ciavarro but he's currently on a mission to kill all of his readers, so maybe we don't want that, huh?

so goodnight, and goodluck, and play nice with your sister while i'm away....

UPDATE!!!
ok we have an extra cons ticket for tonight. who wants to come?

old and fat

oh i'm SO not ready for this trip this weekend... the kiddo lost his birth certificate, so i paid to express a new one and it hasn't arrived.. we need to get it so he can get across the border....

oh i'm so stressed out. i have a list of things i need to get to bring with me, and i am going to see the constantines tomorrow night, so i headed out to london drugs to pick up some stuff. i returned home with a bag of blueberry trail mix, a travel sized container of sunscreen, and some roap. i'm all set right?

right.

no sinister blade will poison us

i feel as though i need to apologize with you. i feel as though i've not been pulling my weight around here these days - my posts have been uninspiring and there has not been nearly enough photography. well, until the last couple of days, anyway, 'cause i think i've been back to normal lately. this morning i was staring at my little bloggity trying to figure out what was going on, and why i've felt so disassociated with my life and my creativity, and i popped on over to read tony ('cause i always read him first in the morning, and 'cause he always kicks me out of my slump). lo and behold what did i find? it's like he's tapped into my brain all the time and i don't know if it's 'cause he's the blogfather or if it's 'cause i'm sending out an sos to his heart, but he's got a list of the causes of 'blogger burnout':

heres when you will experience "blogger burnout":

1. when your internal dialogue gets hijacked by your concerns about what your readers will think.
2. when you are afraid to write down what you are truly thinking about at that moment.
3. when you believe the lie that some people just arent capable of good writing.
4. when you believe the lie that there is a certain way that you "should" write anything.
5. when you get more involved in punctuation, spelling, or aestetics than saying what you want to say.
6. when you get caught up in traffic, hits, popularity, readers, and/or fame.
7. when you believe the lie that what you think doesnt matter.
8. when you believe the lie that what youre about to say has been said before and/or written down better.
9. when you forget that most ideas can be expressed in less than 15 minutes.
10. when you dont set aside a little bit of time each day to update your blog.

now the question to be answered is which of these nasty stds have i caught?

1) well, i guess that happens sometimes. after the whole 'raspberry's a homewrecking whore' extravaganza of a couple of months ago, it's kinda been at the back of my mind.
2)see number one.
3)i think that everyone is capable of writing well. i taught first year university english - i know these things...
4)yeah i get caught up in this. sometimes my academic brain gets pissed off at the laissez faire style of my freewriting brain and i just can't make them talk to each other.
5)see number four
6)now if that were true i'd *only* be posting naked pictures and talking about sex
7)yeah that happens - especially when the voices start whispering whispering in the back of my skull
8)hello, grad school neuroses...
9)no i fully agree with this
10)ok guilty as charged.

so i guess my point is that i am going to try and be a good little blogger and really kick your asses with posts and pictures and all the fun stuff you want. and really, shouldn't there be at least one spanking, for the all the slack-ness? i can't believe that no one has suggested it before now.....

allow me to retort

ok so the other day ridley offered some advice to women posting online dating profiles, and i felt as though i should respond in kind. i know his profile is good, 'cause i screened it for him before i let him put it up. hey, what are older, less evil sisters for?

1) learn how to spell. the letter zed has not, does not, and will not, replace(d) the letter ess. unless you are jay-z, of course, in which case you are a dirty cheating bastard - go home to beyonce. call me!

2) we all know you snowboard. this is vancouver. you can't swing a stick without hitting a guy who skis, snowboards, and does the grind for fun. you tried surfing / want to try surfing / love to surf. your middle name is 'extreme sports'. you all like sitting on patios in the summer, and you all live in kitsilano. let it go.

3) don't post a picture of you with your arm around another girl. period.

4) if you are just looking to get laid, they have a section for you. use it. don't put a profile in every one to expand your market - you are playing with people's emotions and that's a Very Bad Thing.

5) please, if you are posting a photo, make it current. if it can't be current, please ensure that it still *looks* like you. your class photo from 1989 just won't cut it, unless you drive a delorean.

6) of *course* you are laid back / a really nice guy. what else are you going to say? you're a neurotic workaholic asshole who bites his nails and roadrages in the bumpercars at the PNE?

7) what's up with the fish? why is six out of ten of you holding a fish?

evil twin brother!

i've decided that ridley is my evil twin brother. you know, just because. my younger evil twin brother, but my evil twin brother none-the-less.

ok it's time for some self reflection, because for some reason i have neglected to take my meds since thursday, and i tend to get like this on such occasions. i can feel the anxiety creeping up - that "i blew up a balloon too vigorously" feeling in my jaw, the scratchy itchy tears hiding just behind my glasses, the inability to sit still. my hands are jitterbugging across the keyboard chasing my fingers through the forest for the keys like i've had seven cups of coffee and no food in a week.

i went out on an emotional limb on saturday. i let myself get caught in a moment with the cruiseship boy and i let down my guard. i forgot that time hadn't stopped - that after i left the ship he'd still be on it and i'd be back in my real life and that i wasn't indestructible. safe within four walls and deep within the confines of a down duvet i was a superhero, for a while, and nothing could hurt me. but here i am back on dry land hacking away at the jungle vines of insecurities and self doubt.

this is when i get self destructive. this is when i throw myself into mindless sexual encounters hoping that i can lose myself in the touch and the heat, lose myself in the fucking and kissing and biting and screaming and drown out the voices in my head.

and it works, you know, works for that lifetime encapsulated within a moment and the taste of sweat on my lips.

then before i've climbed off your body, your eyes still closed and your bottom lip caught beneath your teeth, my brain's already racing running chasing west through the narrows. won't somebody please hit pause? won't somebody please catch my hand pull me in tight wrap their arms around me remind me that it's ok to stop, ok to breathe just breathe.

an affectionate date - i'm section eight

ok from the 'world's colliding' department.....

last night i was chatting with someone i'd met at the height of the online dating madness. he had gone to a myspace party (which sucked, naturally) and i berated him because of course he should be supporting buzznet not myspace. he asked what the difference was, and i responded nothing except i have a good friend who works for buzznet. he replied "oh tony pierce?" and i said yes. he apparently has met tony, and used to read the blog.

huh, i think to myself. he then mentions that he, too, has a blog, but an msn thingy. so naturally i read it. he's kinda angry - like says things that piss people off lots. i comment that i have a friend who writes that way as well - even managed to ruffle the feathers of deaf america. he asks 'oh ciavarro?'

oh why yes i do... so now i'm trying to figure out if he's read *this* blog, and, if so, how do i feel if he doesn't own up to it? like isn't that poor manners? so i didn't say anything, i just let it pass on by, 'cause of course if i asked he'd want the address and then he'd see me with my tah-tahs out and there wouldnt' be any milestones for him to try and reach, you know?

but what *is* the etiquette of a situation like that? if you are introduced to someone, or meet them in a similar fashion, and you've read their blog so kinda know them intimately, shouldn't you say, oh by the way, i know about that funny growth on your thigh - go to the doctor - and i agree with j-mo. you should cut the guy with the chia pet fetish loose.

anyhooo... he was spending today baking green and chocolate flavoured brownies, if you get my drift. i pointed out that they taste like ass unless you drench them in chocolate/espresso sauce, baileys, and vanilla ice cream. he respects the way i managed to combine alcohol *and* drugs and so has asked if i'd like to hang this week. perhaps i'll solve the mystery at that point. or should i wait for him to mention it, if he's even been here?

curse the corpses, call in the futurists.

ok so the sister may have been on to something with this whole matthew mc... ok i'm gonna have to learn how to spell that. one moment.

ok let's start this again, shall we?

ok so the sister may have been on to something with this whole Matthew McConaughey thing. i just spent the day with him. he makes my heart pit-a-pat. (as an aside, there's NO WAY i would ever have guessed at the spelling of that name). i displayed REMARKABLE restraint - like unheard of for me restraint. which is to say, i was in his bedroom, on his bed, for almost the entire day, and neither one of us removed a single article of clothing. the skirt may have ridden up my legs a few times, but skirt has a mind of its own. it really can't be controlled - let's not kid. i also drove him nearly to the point of insanity, which kinda wasn't really a win win situation 'cause fuckinell i was along for the ride, wasn't i?

le sigh.

southern men, i swear - the born in georgia lives in arkansas accent; the good manners; the values; did i mention the accent? oh and a tattoo that he'd have to be naked for me to see? and i still don't know what it is? and it's driving me INSANE with curiosity? i am a leo, after all, and you know what curiosity does to us kittens.

------------------------------------------------------------------
a hundred million thank you's and kisses to mr tony pierce, who very sweetly contributed to my sasquatch fund xoxoxoxo

love love love is a dangerous drug

i'm searching for my summer '06 record. you know - the one that i'll play over and over again when i'm driving, windows down, sunglasses on, moving too fast in and out of commuters nursing their third cups of coffee of the morning scowling at the newsradio headlines and traffic reports. i'm searching for the sound that will help me transcend the roadwork and flashing four way stops sail on past the speedtraps and c.h.i.p.s. i'm searching for sweet mellow happy chair-dance singalong songs - not too hot, not too cold, juuuust right.

any thoughts?

so few people have favourite moments - go through the comments and judge who wins a date with sundae.

i had possibly the worst date ever this evening. i know i know - i swore off. i should really listen to my own advice. i'll tell you about it in the morning; i had just enough beer to make me verryy sleepyy.

gnite xoxo

ps - oh and i gave ridley possibly the sweetest seduction move ever. maybe if you are sweet to him he'll share.

scratch a living

ok housekeeping - i'm tired of looking at the cd list. i kept it, but until i have a 'real' computer there will be no downloading of fun songs. yes it sucks, but hell.

numero duo - i'm really fucking broke. i'm freaking out about this whole sasquatch fest thing. soooo tacky as it is i added a paypal thing. if you want to donate, cool. if not, no worries i won't hold it against you at all. i'm just sayin'. the link is over there......

ok so only one person wants to date me? so close to real life, sadly... mind you, i guess it makes the judging a whole lot easier, doesn't it?

celebrate good times (come on!)

ok so i'm 95 hits away from 40K.

this seems like a big deal.

what shall we do?

how about... 'win a date with raspberry'?

and, since it's my party, i'm gonna be a little narcissistic about it. tell me your five favourite raspberry sundae moments - comments or posts - or just five favourite raspberry trivia items, the best answer wins a date with me. it'll be open judging - i'll put them up and everyone can vote but you can't vote for yourself.

the caveat is you have to make it to vancouver. i'll take you out to dinner, to see a band, whatevs. you know, as long as i can afford it.

ok... GO!

like the deserts miss the rain

i have allergy induced asthma. fun stuff, batman. at least i know i don't have pneumonia, or bronchitis, or consumption.

ok maybe still consumption. i wanna be your huckleberry.

i bought myself a moleskin notebook today. i have a convoluted relationship with paper journalling. i used to do it faithfully at least once a day - sometimes three or four. i was particularly fond of plain, spiral bound notebooks with dividers. everytime i hit a divider i'd note something significant about myself - who i was dating at that moment, what my favourite song was, mundane stuff like that. kind of a cliffs notes to the previous chapter, if you will.

oh shit i fully got distracted by the intro to charlie's angels and lucy liu's luscious luscious freckles...

where was i? ah yes, print journalling. so i used notebooks and i wrote everything down - bad thoughts, good thoughts, boring thoughts, grocery lists... everything. then i came home from school one day, after a night class, and found the guy i'd been living with for almost a year reading my journal. he went cover to cover while i was at school and i haven't been able to get over a distrust of putting my inner monologue down on paper ever since. interesting, huh, since i've spent two years putting it out into the universe where anyone can follow along.

when you buy a moleskin you also get either a postcard or stamps, each with a quotation about writing. you can send in your quotations and they'll use them in their next print run. on the set of stamps that i got with my book, there's a quote from de maupassant.... "words dazzle and deceive because they are mimed by the face. but black words on a white page are the soul laid bare."

i haven't been around much in the last week. i've been sick, and sick and tired. not of anything in particular - just in general. i'm not comfortable in my skin. i don't know if it's because of all of the drugs, or if it's just spring and i'm getting caught up in my head. sometimes i have trouble laying out my deepest feelings here - this is still a facet of me, not the whole thing, and there are things that go on that i'm not comfortable sharing with other people. i am still a very private person and some stuff i just can't share. so i'm going to try and do both. we'll see how it goes, huh?

just breathe

ok so this whole not being able to breathe thing is getting old. actually it already is old. the sister is now calling me 'darth'. sadly, it fits.

i'm so doped up on antihistamines that i can't even see straight, and yet i managed to pull off some more excel spreadsheet miraculousness today at work - i truly rule the spreadsheet realm, at a cellular level. fuck the columns and rows. i rock the cells, man. me & johnny cash at fulsom prison, bustin out all over the cellblock, drinkin yellow water.

i just reread that last paragraph. it made no sense at all.

tomorrow i go to victoria for the night with the sister. she has a man she wants me to tame. this sounds like bad news. mind you, he is reputed to talk like matthew mcconnaghy. macconahie. fuckit - you know who i mean. this is not a bad thing. nope, not bad at all.

ok i'll stop now.

radio killed the video star

so here's what i've been thinking about lately.

when i was young, my grandparents had muchmusic *way* before we did. no, they weren't progressive - it's just the way their cable package worked. heck we were the LAST kids on the block to get hooked up with much - my folks always figured it was a frivolous luxury. clearly they didn't understand that muchmusic was to kids of *my* generation what dick clark's american bandstand was to theirs. from day that muchmusic (or mtv) hit the screens, it immediately took over from radio as a way to broadcast popular culture

luckily for my sister and i, we visited my grandparents pretty much every other weekend. sunday mornings were, in my world, dedicated to citylimits and that supercilious scion of the urban myth of toronto cultural superiority, kim clarke champniss. now citylimits aired at midnight on fridays, but rarely did i get to watch it at that time. lucky for me it was rebroadcast on sunday mornings.

it was through citylimits that i was first introduced to so many of the bands which fostered my burgeoning sense of teen angst and alienation: depeche mode, the smiths, bronski beat, the cure, husker du, the red hot chili peppers, nitzer ebb, skinny puppy... oh the list of videos and bands i discovered through that show goes on and on. citylimits, and muchmusic as a whole, exposed kids, especially kids like me who lived in small northern cities or towns without access to a real 'underground' culture, kids like me who were surrounded by people who figured that nazareth and trooper were the end all and be all of the music world, to music that they NEVER would have heard otherwise, to clothes and styles and attitudes they would only see (maybe) on summer trips to vancouver or edmonton or toronto. muchmusic shaped my musical identity; it nurtured my teenaged pop culture psyche; it showed me that there was MORE.

in the early nineties, citylimits was replaced by the wedge - a half hour long primetime watered down version of its programming big brother. actually, the wedge is still on today - an isolated island of music and interesting ideas in the reality tv sludge that is the 'new' muchmusic. canada's music station had to take ren & stimpy off the air in that same decade, because its lack of musical content violated the stations licensing agreements. where, i ask you, are those broadcast regulators today? watered down clones of their mtv big brother programs dominate canadian music television airwaves. nowadays, videos make up a minute fraction of what is actually aired.

80's trivial pursuit asks its players to identify the first video played when mtv hit the airwaves august 1, 1981. the answer, of course, is the buggles' "video killed the radio star". as i was listening to 'left of center' on sirius, the question that i asked myself was whether or not radio has reasserted itself as the dominant purveyor of "alternative" youth culture - has radio once again become the primary means to disseminate new music?

as i was cooking supper tonight, for example, i heard gnarls barkley, gomez, beck, and death cab for cutie. out of curiosity, checked my television listings - much music is currently playing much on demand (and hour long program of inane posturing by vapid presenters loosely disguised as a viewer's choice program), while muchondemand is showing an mtv-produced documentary on george michael. see what i mean? is the music video even a valid art form, anymore? the artistically acclaimed postal service video 'such great heights' was recently converted into an apple commercial, without the band's permission - could it be that music videos are now merely training grounds for advertisers and movie producers?

mainstream fm radio has a long way to go before it generates the energy and excitment of satellite. commercial radio is just that: commercial, and it is tied to the moral sanctitude of its advertisers. satellite, of course, has none of those boundaries to traverse, so is free to explore the frontiers of music and cultural ideas. it may very well be that satellite radio has, indeed, killed the video star.

i could astound you if i wanted

so i'm sitting here gazing fondly at the product of two days (off and on) of work - a perfectly organized and pared down closet. ok when i say pared down you have to understand that it's still crammed full. also that i do not, by any means, have a small closet. but it's pared down none the less and is exceedingly tidy.

i think i've written here before about having mild o.c.d - it manifests itself in certain funny ways like how my desktop icons are arranged, and being distressed if anything but tea goes in the cupboard tea basket, and things like that. so as i was organizing my closet i knew that i was putting things back based on the type of clothing - jacket, skirt, pants whatevs and (to a lesser extent) by season. what i didn't notice until a third of the way in was that i was also sorting by colour, and making sure that the colours eased from one into the next smoothly. how did i notice myself doing this, you might be asking? well self was becoming rather distraught over the fact that i couldn't figure out where to place an aqua coloured top. i was rearranging stuff in my head, and actually had a moment of triumph - a moment significant enough for me to crow aloud - when i realized that a little pink summer blouse did indeed have small aqua coloured flowers in it: flowers which would allow me to segue neatly from the pink to the blue family.

the fact that this whole closet tidying venture probably would not have taken two days if i hadn't been quite so obsessive about the replacment of the clothes has not escaped me. And neither has the fact that, if i hadn't been so obsessive about sorting the clothes i was keeping as i removed them from the closet, as well as the clothes i earmarked for the thrift shop, i probably could have been done in an hour.

they’ll pin your renegade heart to wall and leave you there to hang

whoopsy - friday i do not have a date with an english teacher (as in a teacher of english, not an englishman. or woman. or muffin. *ahem*.) i actually have a date with someone else entirely. then i'm going out with an artis. and then maybe to a cinco de mayo party. 'cause you know, it's friday and how am i gonna possibly top last week otherwise?

there will be, however, no gin. this i guarantee.

i was *supposed* to go out with the english teacher tonight but accidentally doublebooked him with punkrock boy - not that prb is guaranteed to be available, but heck. i did actually see him for a bit last night - i was in his 'hood and he had some time before going ot a stag, so i stopped by for a while, hung out, drank some beer, talked about life and stuff and the things inbetween.

oh hey did i mention that he's probably moving to costa rica next month?

break the pressure, come play my game of gesture

things i don't understand:

1) how i can work in a building surrounded by some of the most brilliant engineers and designers in the world, and not a single one of them can find the extra sugar packets to refill the container when it is empty.

2) how i can go for months at a time without spilling on myself, and the moment i wear white i morph into raspberry spillypants.

3) why some mornings my meds make me pukey and some they don't.

4) why i always resist the thought of *going* to yoga, but once i'm there i feel a million times better. moreover, i KNOW that this is the way, and yet i get all grumpy about it everytime, regardless. in fact, last night i was so mellow that once i got home i didn't even speak for half an hour. i just didn't feel the need. i heart that.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------
ok so tonight begins the end of my dating spell. i am having drinks with the accountant, then might visit with punkrock boy, and then am coming home. tomorrow night prb and i were thinking about going to see that bettie page flick, but he's fifty-fifty on whether or not he has to work. hence the tonight thing - he didn't want to not see me this week. he's so cute. then friday i have a date with an english teacher... then i'm done for a bit. i'll do some re-dates, but nothing new.

should be interesting...

todae's horoscope

i like this one:

No one has better instincts than you, as you will so handily prove today when you whip off the mask of someone who's all talk and no action -- be generous when you reveal their true identity. Chances are they were just trying to impress you anyway. There are many mixed signals coming from a friendship you thought was solid -- again, trust your instincts on this and consider that this person isn't always the best at communicating. Ask them what's up and get to the truth.

so i went and had dinner with the mushroom king last night. we were going to work on his business plan (he asked for my help) and i'd promised to cook him dinner so i figured i'd do that too. i made good food, we went for a walk to get wine, watched the ufc on tv, didn't do the plan 'cause his computer was having issues.

i kinda feel like we're married, or in some kind of long term relationship. weird huh? i'm strangely comfortable with him, he tells me about his dates and stuff, i don't tell him about mine, and things are good. friends, i guess, but still weird. there are definately moments where i feel like there is something.. more.. but i might be misreading them. artboy proved that my instincts aren't the best, anymore. or maybe ever were. i dunno.

i have a couple of dates pending, but i think that i might go on them and then give up on this whole dating thing. it is kinda making me feel empty inside. this isn't how i want to spend my days or evenings.

le sigh.

i'd like advice please. i don't want to be ripped apart, and i am listening (i always do), but i'm feeling kinda fragile and i don't want to be insulted. that's the difference between advice and criticism, i figure.

two fifty for an eyeball

ok so yesterday when i was shopping with the sister i bought myself knee-length skinny white capri thingys. i'm wearing them today with an off-the shoulder black sweater. about twenty minutes ago, i thought to myself 'self, how long do you think we can keept these little pants spot-free?' and self responded 'look down, dumbass, you already splashed coffee on them.'

le sigh.

this is what sundaes are all about

lying in bed with a cat at your feet, eating almond croissant, drinking cafe au lait, and looking at pictures of freddie ljungberg... there can't be anything bad about a man who looks like that, now can there? seriously - look at those eyes, that intense expression. you can imagine him looking down at you as his dick is just poised at the edge of ramming into you... *fans self*. whoops sorry, had a bit of a moment there. *ahem*. ok. moving on.....

random personal confession of the 'wow i'm delighted' variety: now some of you may recall that when i began taking the anti-sad pills, i was very distressed because they were giving me the anorgasmia. so i started taking wellbutrin in addition to the celexa to try and combat it, but nothing seemed to be working. this was causing me distress 'cause the sex part was never affected by the depression. i always liked doing it and having it and everything about it - it was one of the good things i still had, you know? so then i started with the antisads and all of a sudden i couldn't cum and started to lose interest, even while i was feeling better about life. sick joke, kinda, huh?


so i went back to the doctor for my monthly follow up about a week and a half ago, and she said to me "are you taking the generic brand?" to which i replied, yes, because my medical plan asks you to take generic to cut down on costs, and she said to stop because the only time they've had trouble with anorgasmia and celexa is when people take the generic. so i ditched the balance of my prescription and picked up the name brand and lo and behold, within two days i was back to my regular self - six seconds to take off, multiple heaven. damn. who knew? funny, huh, 'cause they are supposed to be exactly the same drug makeup. buu-uut the side effect of celexa which i am still super worried about is the weight gain - i dance dangerously close to the edge of eating disorder land as it is, so i may just go back to taking non-generic wellbutrin to go along with it (ah drug cocktails. my favourite).


internet dating update, captain's log stardate... erm... today:

• the mushroom king - i talked to him about it yesterday and there will be no romantic involvement. nice guy, so friends is a possibility, but i think that he needs to figure out what he wants fro a girl - a companion or a personal assistant. i like helping people out, so there is always the risk that i will be taken advantage of. he was almost there.
• punk rock boy - hm this one.... is sticking in my head. we'll see. i don't want to jinx it by talking to much about it.
• the electrician - still around. still cute. i haven't seen him in a week, but i talk to him pretty much daily. not sure what's gonna happen. he said to me this morning "i wanna tap that ass". it's very early on a sunday to hear such things via the ehm-ess-ehn. we'll see.
• rockstar 25 - (ridley gave him the nickname. i like it better than the one i had). he's damn fucking hot. rawr. nuff said.
• nikki - he's new. i just talked to him last night. he's *covered* in tattoos.he's 37. he's kinda kinky. he's looking for a relationship. he was worried that (when he put on his webcam to talk to me) i'd be disappointed that he doesn't look like his rockstar pictures. i said he looks like he would every day so that was better, in my book. i showed him my silly emoticons. he laughed out loud (best thing about webcams is that you can see people's reactions. i heart that.) huh. he's kinda in my head too. maybe it's the ink.

ps - ladies you can thank me later.
pps - the multiple heaven has *nothing* to do with the photographs. nothing. i swear. *ahem*. clearly. (backs away from microphone...)
finally - i've been fudging with the pictures so if you looked and it was kinda messed, hit reload. i think i've got it fixed, now.

be firm and sit in silence

oh i haven't disappeared - i've just been enjoying the conversation in the comments for the last post. sometimes when it is going well i don't want to post again 'cause i hate to interrupt.

so feel free to keep talking, if you want, or start something new here. your pick.

oh man i'm so tired. yesterday i took a personal day and it was supposed to be a restful kinda thing, but i ended up running around going to the dentist, going to valoo village with my lil brother, and then went downtown and ended up sitting and drinking gin with ... well let's call him punk rock boy, shall we? i hung out there till mikeb came to get me for the franz ferdinand concert (and was *loaded* by that point, by the way), hung out at the show, then went back to the prb's house and made out with him. he's very cool - not my usual 'cute', but very cool in personality and life experience. and fuck it he's really cute - just not my usual type.

so i came home at 6.30, then at 9am the mushroom man called me to help him drive to hope. he was too hungover to make it on his own. the irony of the fact that i was possibly the most hungover girl in the world this morning did not escape me, let me tell you. so i drove to hope & back, then helped him run some more errands, then came home for a family dinner out, took a bath, and am now nearly comatose.

and, by the way, can still taste gin.

ew.

concert review -
now keep in mind that i was very drunk, but my general impression of the show is that i much preferred death cab for cutie to franz ferdinand. which, i think, is interesting, 'cause i was initially worried that their sound wouldn't translate well to such a big arena. they were totally fun though - good for them. i'm looking forward to seeing them again at sasquatch. yeah ok that's not much of a review, but shit i'm the sex & dating girl. if you want music reviews / hockey news, go see ridley. mind you, now that he's dating, he may start giving me a run for my money in that arena. perhaps i should expand my horizons.....

lay me down in sheets of linen

i got asked last night if i was picky - if the reason i didn't have a guy was not 'cause tom cruise implanted an asshole magnet in my cerebellum, but actually because of *me*.

the cheek.

sheesh.

anyway, this set my big brain a'runnin. what prerequisites does a guy have to meet before i will consider him to be someone i could spend some time with? i mean, everyone has some, but what are mine?

1) he has to turn me on - mentally and physically. i have to feel electrified when i'm in his presence. if you can only do it mentally you'll be a friend. if you can only do it physially, well you'll never go beyond someone i shag.

2) he has to make me laugh. if you can't see the absurdity of the universe and want to share it with me then i don't understand your species. move on.

3) he has to be able to teach me something. i think that everyone is smart at something - math, economics, fishing, hockey whatever. if i can't learn something from you every day then i'll get bored fast.

4) he has to fit into my 'world'. i have to be able to see how he will blend into my everyday - whether or not he has something in common with my friends. i have to be able to know that i can leave him alone at a table in the presence of mikeb, or the sister, or her boyfriend and he'll be able to converse and enjoy himself.

5) he has to meet the approval of three people, in this order of importance: the kiddo, the sister, and mike b.

6) he has to understand that i will almost never invite him back to my house to spend the night (it upsets my dad), and that i will almost never spend the night on a worknight. i have my routine in the morning and it freaks me out to have it interrupted. i will, however, play sleepover most other occasions.

7) he has to be willing to hold my hand in public.

8) he has to understand that there will always be nights that i go dancing and don't come home all night. i'm not out fucking around - i'm having a kickass time with my friends and i need to do it now and again. if he's into doing it with me, then i will probably invite him on occasion, but sometimes i'll want it to be just me.

i think that those are the big ones. they're not major hoops to jump through, i don't think. are they unreasonable? do you have dealbreakers with the opposite sex? what are they?

hot sticky scenes you know what i mean

ok so i had an interesting offer this weekend.

there's a guy who does erotic bdsm photography out of victoria - like award winning black and whites, really beautiful shots. he asked me if i'd pose for him. he likes the idea of transposing the softness of me with the hard edge of his motif. i'm seriously tempted. i mean, it's not something i could ever show my parents, but it'd sure be a neat experience. ha neat. i bet you never thought you'd ever hear the word 'neat' to describe bondage photography, huh?

so what's new on the dating front? well last night i met a musician. he's pretty young - like 25 - but seems way laid back, plays tool-esque metal, and has fucking HOT tattoos, as well. nothing wrong with that, in my book. i do heart the ink. 25 might be a little young for me though - mind you, i talked to him on the phone for over an hour last night, and he seems pretty mature (though has a rabid love of the edmonton oilers, which i can't quite fathom. i'm sure he'll grow out of it. *ahem* ridley.)

anyhoooooo... i should do some work. i'm really tired and i'm afraid i'm burning out. i need a holiday, and i need some happy things to happen to me - i need to be showered with attention or pampered or something for a little while. i'm stretching myself too thin and giving too much to too many people who just want to take and take but not give anything back and i'm not sure how long i can keep doing it, you know?

le sigh.

when i raise my trigger finger all you f***ers hit the deck

dating update. captain's log. stardate whatever today is.

ok so i met this guy - talked to him on the phone a couple of times, via msn, all that good stuff. he's super cute - has a really dry sense of humour, total deadpan delivery, seems smart. i decided to try a different approach - when i went out for tea/a walk with him the first time, i totally dressed down - like jeans, a shirt, converse sneakers. same thing when i went out with him friday night - just basic clothes. like i went out of my way to NOT be sexy. no talking about sex, no referring to sex even obliquely.

he told me he had a theory of thirty - that is, if you meet thirty people, 25 you will never want to see again; 2 you will want for friends; two you will want to sleep with - one you will, one you won't bother; and one is the one you will want to pursue a 'relationship' with. he said you can tell this almost immediately after meeting someone. so, given my experiences, of late, at the end of our second date, i asked him which one he thought i was. he told me i was a #2. i sighed and said that's what i figured. he asked why? so i told him that's how everyone sees me. i told him how i'd even purposefully *tried* to be not sexy when i met him and talked to him. he laughed at me and said that it wasn't possible for me to not be sexy - he said it's just who i am.

le sigh.

ok it's fucking beautiful out. i'm going to get my bikini, my novel, my deck chair and hit the back yard. i have a well deserved date with myself and mister sunshine.

xo

rally round the family pocket full of shells

so i don't think i've ever talked much about my little brother. he's nine years younger than i am, and is as different from me as night and day. but at the same time he's more like me than my sister or either of my parents. he loves books and words and reading and writing. when he was going into grade 11, he was trying to pick the courses to determine his career path. my folk were pushing him into computer science, but he hated math - it made him miserable, the same way it did to me. so i sat down with him and said 'why not try english? you love writing, and you are really good at it. you want to pick something that is going to make you happy - not something that you are going to hate, otherwise you are just setting yourself up to fail.' so he did. he went to uvic and did his ba, then transferred up to unbc to work with my former supervisor for his ma. during his final high school years and the first couple of years of his ba i went over his papers with a fine toothed comb giving advice and fixing grammar. after that he didn't need me anymore.

he'd gained a lot of weight during university. he's never really been a small kid - e even when he was a baby he was really solid. i remember laughing at the dimples in his knees. anyway, in the last few years it's really gotten out of hand. his weight was up around 250, and that is way too much for a guy of 5'10". in september he decided to do something about it, (i think that my dad had a quiet word with him 'cause it was pretty clear that he was jeapordizing his health) and he joined weight watchers. he's lost over seventy pounds - you would never even recognize him as the same person. it's unbelievable.

yesterday, he defended his master's thesis. his external examiner said that he'd never seen a more thorough defense. he passed with no revisions, which is quite extraordinary. his supervisor said to my dad that he's only ever seen one writer who was better, and that was me.

i'm so proud of him i could squeal. he's applied across canada to do his PhD and i know he's going to excel in that, too.

so anyway, this is my congratulations to my brother, even though he'll probably never see it.

i love you, shmoo. xo


UPDATE: he just got word that he's been accepted to the PhD program at the University of Western Ontario!!!

dance like the queen of the eyesores

OK here are my picks for the first round:

Western Conference
Detroit
Colorado
Calgary
San Jose
Eastern Conference
Ottawa
Carolina
Jersey
Philadelphia

now, ideally, i'd like to see an Ottawa / Calgary final, but the chances of that happening are slim. still, a girl can dream huh?

check out my faux-black eye in that photo. i dunno if it's a trick of the light, or if i really was walking around with circles that big, or what, but hey, there it is.

sadly, now that the chef is gone, i don't get to see the black crowes. on the plus side, i have a spare ticket to see the constantines. i should run some kind of contest - a date with raspberry. may 25. any takers?

cause the sex is so much better when you're mad at me

what the fuck is up with the apathetic lethargy plaguing my psyche? eat sleep work drink puke i can't even keep the hours straight. what day is today? who am i?

more importantly, who are you and why haven't you bought me a drink yet? yeah you - i see you there, leaning against the wall, watching the dancers. you think i can't tell that it's me you're really tracking with your eyes, following my movements across the bar. i can feel you touch me in your mind as you send your thoughts towards me, slipping under my clothes caressing my skin with their shivers. some would think it's just the bass, just the music pounding pounding against the people and the night, but i know better.