Monday, October 27, 2003
So I'm back home now, well I suppose it's not really home. Sure a lot of my stuff is here, but it doesn't necessarily feel like home. Very few if any of my friends live here anymore and those that I do know I feel awkward about calling. "Remember that time we played in that shitty band that released that shitty demo that had Hitler on the front cover with a gun in his mouth and his brains being blown out the back of his head and it said 'Follow Your Leader' underneath...that was pretty cool huh?" So instead of that I ended up talking to my friend's mom for twenty minutes about parents threatening to beat her up for failing their kid (Fat Pat), menopause, and her youngest daughter's fake id.
I think part of me is bummed about seeing Cape Breton. It's not that I'm sad about being reminded about past experiences like the time I ran 6 blocks to get away from a girl I couldn't/wouldn't kiss and I was embarassed that I was 'green' or that time that kid snuck up behind him and pissed all over my new jacket (I swear to god that's true, I had no idea he was behind and above me standing on a huge embankment until it was too late). I think it's that Holy Shit!? this place is depressing. I love it and it's still beautiful underneath it's abandoned buildings and chipped paint. I love it's double wide streets, it's company houses that have two different colours on each side of the house, I love that regardless of where I go in the city I have a memory about it or I see someone I went to school with or grew up with, but I hate the fact that there are so many broken windows and collapsing walls.
When you reach a certain age, your parents suddenly turn mortal. Their faces start to sag, their turns grey, you can actually beat up your dad. You start to see that they're old and vincible. I guess I'm seeing that with Sydney and it's a little sad because this place isn't so invincible anymore and I suppose it never was.
Enough with the fucking nostalgia Black, get to the smut.
I went to the flea market today, bought some fireworks and one was called a Hummer which means I can make 50% more hummer jokes and in front of my parents. They bought me a duffle bag for Christmas last year that has the word 'Hummer' emblazoned across the side. All Christmas day I get telling everyone that mom and dad gave me this terrific hummer for Christmas. Lindsay and I have been making the same joke this trip (I brought the hummer bag with me) and it feels sort of 'bad' to be making jokes about oral sex in front of your parents, like that first time you saw or heard 'gay' used in a reference that wasn't homosexul (in my case it was driving to Bangor and discovering a grocery store called 'Gay's Shop and Save'). It's just juvenile and stupid.
Lindsay and I also bought short shorts for our halloween costumes. We're going to wear them the night we have our Hummer.
I think part of me is bummed about seeing Cape Breton. It's not that I'm sad about being reminded about past experiences like the time I ran 6 blocks to get away from a girl I couldn't/wouldn't kiss and I was embarassed that I was 'green' or that time that kid snuck up behind him and pissed all over my new jacket (I swear to god that's true, I had no idea he was behind and above me standing on a huge embankment until it was too late). I think it's that Holy Shit!? this place is depressing. I love it and it's still beautiful underneath it's abandoned buildings and chipped paint. I love it's double wide streets, it's company houses that have two different colours on each side of the house, I love that regardless of where I go in the city I have a memory about it or I see someone I went to school with or grew up with, but I hate the fact that there are so many broken windows and collapsing walls.
When you reach a certain age, your parents suddenly turn mortal. Their faces start to sag, their turns grey, you can actually beat up your dad. You start to see that they're old and vincible. I guess I'm seeing that with Sydney and it's a little sad because this place isn't so invincible anymore and I suppose it never was.
Enough with the fucking nostalgia Black, get to the smut.
I went to the flea market today, bought some fireworks and one was called a Hummer which means I can make 50% more hummer jokes and in front of my parents. They bought me a duffle bag for Christmas last year that has the word 'Hummer' emblazoned across the side. All Christmas day I get telling everyone that mom and dad gave me this terrific hummer for Christmas. Lindsay and I have been making the same joke this trip (I brought the hummer bag with me) and it feels sort of 'bad' to be making jokes about oral sex in front of your parents, like that first time you saw or heard 'gay' used in a reference that wasn't homosexul (in my case it was driving to Bangor and discovering a grocery store called 'Gay's Shop and Save'). It's just juvenile and stupid.
Lindsay and I also bought short shorts for our halloween costumes. We're going to wear them the night we have our Hummer.
