4.28.2004
"Stigmata's in the air. I'd be careful."
2:04 PM
4.26.2004
"I'm gonna start flexing my ass."
"Me too. I never want incontinence."
7:42 PM
4.23.2004
Oh. I forgot to tell you about my birthday presents.
-2 vintage hats. One of them is a band of feathers.
-3 nightgowns
-a bottle of wine
-a growing dick
-quit smoking
-$100 down on cat bill
-free lunch
-2 cans of spray paint
4:05 PM
Alex was on death row. It was taking place in a huge building and there were thousands of people there. There was an auditorium and everyone was wearing masks. They were celebrating. I ran from room to room down hallways trying to find him. I ran into a room where people were getting ready, putting on their costumes; feathers and sparkles. People were busy, in one hallway, I screamed loud. I screamed and screamed. I thought people would stop. They kept walking and I started to cry. But my scream didn’t have an echo and nothing came out. I kept running.
I pushed through a long hallway of people and got to the front. I saw Alex. He was wearing an orange suit, he came out of a room and the guards watched him. He held his head with his hand. I yelled his name. “Alex!” He looked up. I pushed some more until I was closer. “I love you.” I said. His eyes got big. “I love you,” I said. Everyone in the room seemed to disappear, they stopped talking and they stood still. We looked in each other’s eyes. I walked towards him and said, “I love you. I love you.” Over and over, his face grew peaceful, he smiled and cried, he sunk to the ground and laid his head on the concrete, I laid down with him and we held hands with the backs of our heads touching and we both cried.
12:26 PM
4.19.2004
My friend Kerry aced her opera audition and got into the Masters program at the Royal Academy of Music.It's one of the top three music schools in THE WORLD! They fly all over the WORLD to audition people. Holy fuck, Kerry, Congratulations.
12:38 PM
4.18.2004
On the night of their departure I found a dust chewed sandal of my father’s under the bed and slept with it. I cried into the soft leather. I felt each dent of each toe with my fingers. Toes that had slipped on seaweed, toes that had run in fields, been pricked by sticky burrs, toes that burned, or cramped or cooled. Ten parts of his body had seen and heard and lived more than all my parts put together. How could I know where’d they been, whom they had loved or hated? I was only eight.
I woke to the smell of fish. I left the sandal in my bed, embarrassed to touch it now. A secret. It seemed less alive this morning, but no less intriguing. Just different and transparent in the day. This morning, with no monsters and only the truth of loss, the sandal was less my father and more a sandal. And I resented the deception.
The windows are high, though the ceiling is low, so the second half of the cabin, the kitchen and table half, is always dark. I sat in the dark and watched my grandfather at the stove. Fire spewed from the element and seemed to grip his wrist. It was only the angle of my vision. A limiting perception that ignores distance and proximity. His hair is white and flat, he is thin and he smells like the large, wet rocks in the brook.
He put the haddock in front of me, still in the frying pan.
“Don’t burn yourself.”
Papa left through the side door. It screeched shut, a sharp bang at the end. It never completely closes and must be forced shut at night, using both hands, and fastened with a rusty, metal hook. There is a large window at the back of the kitchen where I watch my grandfather in the vegetable garden. The land in the back is shaped like a disfigured sheep. There is a maple in the carrots.
I leave the window. I will try to find the other sandal while I wait. I go to the coal shed.
11:05 PM
She arrives on the island, banished. It took three lonely days, on a raft twined with the red hair ribbons of her grandmother. During those three days she only wished the wind would scoop her up and drag her to the sky with the crows that followed her banishment. She called to them, her only friends, “Take me with you” but their black eyes curled. A few of them rode the winds and pecked at the ribbons to loosen the logs in a burst. But her brothers had knotted and tightened them and her grandmothers gray strands would not give. The crows stabbed at the cushions of her bare feet until they bled and the logs were soaked with her blood, as scarlet as the ribbons, and they could no longer tell the difference. And they stabbed and stabbed. Until her toes were stubs of indigo veins and silken rivulets left a trail of her in the sea. And all the while, the crows are screaming in pain, their bloated ink stomachs shivering, shivering.
Eight crows, one for each day she spent in the bath.
On the eighth day her brothers found her. Furious and bulging they tipped the tub over, and each of them, a steel hammer, bolted and garnished for each of their tenth birthdays, pounded the tub to pieces. She laid in the grass, on her back, with her arms spread wide, her wrists wrinkled, with her brown legs open. She whispered to the sun, to the crows, to the chunks of copper belting. A chant so low only the ants could hear. A chant so low, the best listener would turn away in shame. “I remember. I remember.”
Her brothers, who proclaimed they were wise, decided she must go. They heaved some logs together and made a sturdy raft. They put her on the raft and told her never to return. They told her she had maimed too many people and that she was strange. She spent too much time in the tub, and for what? And look, she barely spoke. Only the devil would choke on a simple word. With that, they trust the raft into the ocean and waved goodbye.
On the fourth day, she arrives on the island.
11:05 PM
4.17.2004
Yesterday I was thinking about my grade nine boyfriend. He’s Italian and he used to go to Italy and come back and tell us about getting drunk on the beach. I was really shy and from what I remember we never kissed. My friend used to have dance parties and we were slow dancing once and he leaned into me and I said "What are you doing?" and he said "I’m trying to kiss you." And I said "oh my god, don’t." It’s very funny now when I think about it but at the time it was mortifying. Like I said. I was shy.
Well, I SAW HIM LAST NIGHT at the bar! I’ve seen him on and off over the years and he would say "You’re still as beautiful as you always were" which is really flattering and I would walk away. This time I decided to talk to him. We joked and laughed and talked. I invited him to come with me to the Khyber. At first it was fun. He was affectionate and I was drunk, but then I started feeling crowded, he kept putting his arms around me and touching my neck with his fingers and I think he even kissed my neck. He invited me back to his place. I went to sit at a table by myself because I was really annoyed. He came up to me and said "You were laughing so much before, did I do something wrong?" I told him I wanted to be left alone and I have a hard time with all the touching.
It’s weird that I saw him because in grade nine, after we broke up, I think I had a crush on him for at least a year. He’s hot and he used to be the ice cream guy. So, you always think on those moments, like how I didn’t kiss him and I kind of regretted it. 11 years later that desire has been nullified. Phew.
1:25 PM
4.16.2004
Hey. Have you ever put water on to boil at your parent's house, forgot about it, half an hour later yell "The Water!" run upstairs smell something unpleasant, see that the pot has melted into the element, or is at least un-usable and now the white stove has a brown marks all over it and when you tried to clean it off the cloth hissed? It smells like chemicals in here.
5:35 PM
It was a wit battle. We would call one another on the phone and not say a word. Just breathe. Heavy. Once I think we both sat on the phone for an hour to see who would crack up first.
I remember I worked as a cashier and the intercom said "Claudette pick up on line blah blah blah." and I picked it up and this guy said "I want to lick your legs up and down" and I was all like "Jefffffff!!!!!" except it wasn't Jeff and I had to be driven home for like a week.
And he used to knock over our friend's mother and her cigarettes would go flying all over the floor and everyone would scramble around to get them cause she was too drunk to notice.
1:48 PM
4.15.2004
Something totally weird happened to my email account. It won't let me get in. I cleared my cookies and my browser and I tried the yahoo id thing. Anyway, I've changed it to claudettegermain@yahoo.ca. But this does suck for all those email addresses of friends I haven't talked to in a while. Hmmmm.
2:50 PM
From “a looking into my own brain moment” I find it psychologically interesting that anytime something in the present happens to me that deserves a few tears, or at least a moment of reflection, I automatically revert to obsessively thinking about Alex. Like he’s my crutch or something.
I keep a picture of him in my wallet, right where I’m supposed to have my driver’s license so there’s no way I don’t see him when I open it. I think about the wake over and over again, how I laid on the chair for two hours and stared at the coffin. I didn’t move. I wanted to be dead too. I laid my head on his girlfriend’s lap. To be near her, to be close to her. Because he had been close to her. It’s like a vicious bug inside that eats me and eats me for the slowest dinner. I want to beg. Leave me something. I revert back to those weeks after he died and I become that person again, the person who stares at nothing, who feels nothing.
The last time I saw him was a year ago from January, on Agricola St., outside of the antique store, which used to be a garden store. There were icicles dripping from the roof. I wanted one. So I jumped and jumped. One of them appeared in my mitten and it made me smile and laugh. And someone was watching me. And he looked at me the way I look at people.
Alex ended his suicide note. hugs and kisses. This is the only part about what happened that makes me angry. I want to say. Who are you kidding, you fucker? What hugs? What kisses?
Even as a dead man, he is the most beautiful, the most frustrating person I know. He had honesty in his eyes. Even when he was trying to fool us.
I have described depression as living on the edge of a cliff. Sometimes you’re sitting in the field a few feet away, with moss between your fingers and a little bit of sun. It’s calm and peaceful. But the cliff is still there. You can see it. Sometimes you’re sitting on the edge, your feet are dangling. It seems dangerous, but you’re still safe because the field is not so far. Besides it’s kind of fun here. Other times you’re over the edge, you grab onto roots and rocks, any one that’ll get you out of this, because you know what’s coming. You have a ferocious instinct to survive. You keep thinking, oh my god, which one will save me? And then, of course, you’re not on the edge at all, you’re way down below, where there is no sun, no moon, no field, no rocks, no roots. Just the bodies of all the other people who tried to get to the top.
I guess I just need to figure out how I got from the field to the edge, how I got from the edge to hanging on. Did I walk? Did I fall? Or was I pushed?
12:57 PM
4.08.2004
We played a game with leftover balloons. Here’s what we had.
-an exacto knife
-a screwdriver
-scissors
-a couple of saws
-a sledgehammer
We took turns pitching weapons at the balloons. Trying to pop ‘em. We were looking for an explosion. We talked about the Hutus, the Harpers, the perception of privilege, the personal hang-ups, the FBI, and the ECO-terrorist.
With you, you’re confusing. You have this career, you have this job or anything you want, but you live in shitholes and you move more than anyone I know.
There is too much to choose. And we both know it, so we played a game with these birthday balloons.
That’s been done to me before. I know what you’re saying. But you have to let someone go, with it all on the table.
1:15 AM
4.05.2004
Friday was nuts. I was exhausted from running around Thursday, trying to find a parasol, a plastic baby and printing off 600 zines for the burlesque show. Friday’s show was great, there weren’t that many people I knew in the audience but the line-up started at 7 pm and wove around the street to the corner of Gottigen. When Alyssa and I were on stage I found it really hard not to crack up and I thought I was going to pee my underpants. Our costumes were ridiculous. We made short ballerina skirts and a bustier out of chicken wire and glued Chinese hell money all over them. We did our item to an Eartha Kitt song (she played Catwoman in 60s TV and sang ‘Santa Baby’) started it in black wraparound lining, which I had picked up at Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart is trippy. Have you noticed people bump into you a lot there? I get kind of mad when I’m there and I say “Jesus Fucking Christ” a lot and talk to myself.
Saturday was fun because Stacey, Mark, Gerry and my sister came out to the show. Stacey said she was in the bathroom and she asked the person in the next stall for some toilet paper and the woman said,“Could you wait a minute?” and then left without giving her any toilet paper. Rude. It was probably the same woman who sat in the chair next to the bar and the line-up and then got mad when someone bumped into her. I snuck Mark and Gerry down to the smoking lounge because I wanted to hang out with them, which was just for performers, and then we got in trouble and they were asked to leave. I stayed and smoked and got yelled at for not going with them, something about solidarity.
We went to the after party at Jay’s. Mark had his scarf and jacket on the dance floor, and Nora, in pasties, took off his scarf and his jacket, Simone joined in and Dusty ripped open his dress shirt and he lost all of his buttons. He took his pants off and danced with them around his ankles, then he took off his boxers and AJ whipped his bare bum with the leather strap.
12:38 PM
4.01.2004
(Hmm, it's April Fool's Day, what truly retarded prank can I pull today.)
SIIIIIIKE
posted by: Mr. X
[screenshot]
4:15 AM
"Stigmata's in the air. I'd be careful."
2:04 PM
4.26.2004
"I'm gonna start flexing my ass."
"Me too. I never want incontinence."
7:42 PM
4.23.2004
Oh. I forgot to tell you about my birthday presents.
-2 vintage hats. One of them is a band of feathers.
-3 nightgowns
-a bottle of wine
-a growing dick
-quit smoking
-$100 down on cat bill
-free lunch
-2 cans of spray paint
4:05 PM
Alex was on death row. It was taking place in a huge building and there were thousands of people there. There was an auditorium and everyone was wearing masks. They were celebrating. I ran from room to room down hallways trying to find him. I ran into a room where people were getting ready, putting on their costumes; feathers and sparkles. People were busy, in one hallway, I screamed loud. I screamed and screamed. I thought people would stop. They kept walking and I started to cry. But my scream didn’t have an echo and nothing came out. I kept running.
I pushed through a long hallway of people and got to the front. I saw Alex. He was wearing an orange suit, he came out of a room and the guards watched him. He held his head with his hand. I yelled his name. “Alex!” He looked up. I pushed some more until I was closer. “I love you.” I said. His eyes got big. “I love you,” I said. Everyone in the room seemed to disappear, they stopped talking and they stood still. We looked in each other’s eyes. I walked towards him and said, “I love you. I love you.” Over and over, his face grew peaceful, he smiled and cried, he sunk to the ground and laid his head on the concrete, I laid down with him and we held hands with the backs of our heads touching and we both cried.
12:26 PM
4.19.2004
My friend Kerry aced her opera audition and got into the Masters program at the Royal Academy of Music.It's one of the top three music schools in THE WORLD! They fly all over the WORLD to audition people. Holy fuck, Kerry, Congratulations.
12:38 PM
4.18.2004
On the night of their departure I found a dust chewed sandal of my father’s under the bed and slept with it. I cried into the soft leather. I felt each dent of each toe with my fingers. Toes that had slipped on seaweed, toes that had run in fields, been pricked by sticky burrs, toes that burned, or cramped or cooled. Ten parts of his body had seen and heard and lived more than all my parts put together. How could I know where’d they been, whom they had loved or hated? I was only eight.
I woke to the smell of fish. I left the sandal in my bed, embarrassed to touch it now. A secret. It seemed less alive this morning, but no less intriguing. Just different and transparent in the day. This morning, with no monsters and only the truth of loss, the sandal was less my father and more a sandal. And I resented the deception.
The windows are high, though the ceiling is low, so the second half of the cabin, the kitchen and table half, is always dark. I sat in the dark and watched my grandfather at the stove. Fire spewed from the element and seemed to grip his wrist. It was only the angle of my vision. A limiting perception that ignores distance and proximity. His hair is white and flat, he is thin and he smells like the large, wet rocks in the brook.
He put the haddock in front of me, still in the frying pan.
“Don’t burn yourself.”
Papa left through the side door. It screeched shut, a sharp bang at the end. It never completely closes and must be forced shut at night, using both hands, and fastened with a rusty, metal hook. There is a large window at the back of the kitchen where I watch my grandfather in the vegetable garden. The land in the back is shaped like a disfigured sheep. There is a maple in the carrots.
I leave the window. I will try to find the other sandal while I wait. I go to the coal shed.
11:05 PM
She arrives on the island, banished. It took three lonely days, on a raft twined with the red hair ribbons of her grandmother. During those three days she only wished the wind would scoop her up and drag her to the sky with the crows that followed her banishment. She called to them, her only friends, “Take me with you” but their black eyes curled. A few of them rode the winds and pecked at the ribbons to loosen the logs in a burst. But her brothers had knotted and tightened them and her grandmothers gray strands would not give. The crows stabbed at the cushions of her bare feet until they bled and the logs were soaked with her blood, as scarlet as the ribbons, and they could no longer tell the difference. And they stabbed and stabbed. Until her toes were stubs of indigo veins and silken rivulets left a trail of her in the sea. And all the while, the crows are screaming in pain, their bloated ink stomachs shivering, shivering.
Eight crows, one for each day she spent in the bath.
On the eighth day her brothers found her. Furious and bulging they tipped the tub over, and each of them, a steel hammer, bolted and garnished for each of their tenth birthdays, pounded the tub to pieces. She laid in the grass, on her back, with her arms spread wide, her wrists wrinkled, with her brown legs open. She whispered to the sun, to the crows, to the chunks of copper belting. A chant so low only the ants could hear. A chant so low, the best listener would turn away in shame. “I remember. I remember.”
Her brothers, who proclaimed they were wise, decided she must go. They heaved some logs together and made a sturdy raft. They put her on the raft and told her never to return. They told her she had maimed too many people and that she was strange. She spent too much time in the tub, and for what? And look, she barely spoke. Only the devil would choke on a simple word. With that, they trust the raft into the ocean and waved goodbye.
On the fourth day, she arrives on the island.
11:05 PM
4.17.2004
Yesterday I was thinking about my grade nine boyfriend. He’s Italian and he used to go to Italy and come back and tell us about getting drunk on the beach. I was really shy and from what I remember we never kissed. My friend used to have dance parties and we were slow dancing once and he leaned into me and I said "What are you doing?" and he said "I’m trying to kiss you." And I said "oh my god, don’t." It’s very funny now when I think about it but at the time it was mortifying. Like I said. I was shy.
Well, I SAW HIM LAST NIGHT at the bar! I’ve seen him on and off over the years and he would say "You’re still as beautiful as you always were" which is really flattering and I would walk away. This time I decided to talk to him. We joked and laughed and talked. I invited him to come with me to the Khyber. At first it was fun. He was affectionate and I was drunk, but then I started feeling crowded, he kept putting his arms around me and touching my neck with his fingers and I think he even kissed my neck. He invited me back to his place. I went to sit at a table by myself because I was really annoyed. He came up to me and said "You were laughing so much before, did I do something wrong?" I told him I wanted to be left alone and I have a hard time with all the touching.
It’s weird that I saw him because in grade nine, after we broke up, I think I had a crush on him for at least a year. He’s hot and he used to be the ice cream guy. So, you always think on those moments, like how I didn’t kiss him and I kind of regretted it. 11 years later that desire has been nullified. Phew.
1:25 PM
4.16.2004
Hey. Have you ever put water on to boil at your parent's house, forgot about it, half an hour later yell "The Water!" run upstairs smell something unpleasant, see that the pot has melted into the element, or is at least un-usable and now the white stove has a brown marks all over it and when you tried to clean it off the cloth hissed? It smells like chemicals in here.
5:35 PM
It was a wit battle. We would call one another on the phone and not say a word. Just breathe. Heavy. Once I think we both sat on the phone for an hour to see who would crack up first.
I remember I worked as a cashier and the intercom said "Claudette pick up on line blah blah blah." and I picked it up and this guy said "I want to lick your legs up and down" and I was all like "Jefffffff!!!!!" except it wasn't Jeff and I had to be driven home for like a week.
And he used to knock over our friend's mother and her cigarettes would go flying all over the floor and everyone would scramble around to get them cause she was too drunk to notice.
1:48 PM
4.15.2004
Something totally weird happened to my email account. It won't let me get in. I cleared my cookies and my browser and I tried the yahoo id thing. Anyway, I've changed it to claudettegermain@yahoo.ca. But this does suck for all those email addresses of friends I haven't talked to in a while. Hmmmm.
2:50 PM
From “a looking into my own brain moment” I find it psychologically interesting that anytime something in the present happens to me that deserves a few tears, or at least a moment of reflection, I automatically revert to obsessively thinking about Alex. Like he’s my crutch or something.
I keep a picture of him in my wallet, right where I’m supposed to have my driver’s license so there’s no way I don’t see him when I open it. I think about the wake over and over again, how I laid on the chair for two hours and stared at the coffin. I didn’t move. I wanted to be dead too. I laid my head on his girlfriend’s lap. To be near her, to be close to her. Because he had been close to her. It’s like a vicious bug inside that eats me and eats me for the slowest dinner. I want to beg. Leave me something. I revert back to those weeks after he died and I become that person again, the person who stares at nothing, who feels nothing.
The last time I saw him was a year ago from January, on Agricola St., outside of the antique store, which used to be a garden store. There were icicles dripping from the roof. I wanted one. So I jumped and jumped. One of them appeared in my mitten and it made me smile and laugh. And someone was watching me. And he looked at me the way I look at people.
Alex ended his suicide note. hugs and kisses. This is the only part about what happened that makes me angry. I want to say. Who are you kidding, you fucker? What hugs? What kisses?
Even as a dead man, he is the most beautiful, the most frustrating person I know. He had honesty in his eyes. Even when he was trying to fool us.
I have described depression as living on the edge of a cliff. Sometimes you’re sitting in the field a few feet away, with moss between your fingers and a little bit of sun. It’s calm and peaceful. But the cliff is still there. You can see it. Sometimes you’re sitting on the edge, your feet are dangling. It seems dangerous, but you’re still safe because the field is not so far. Besides it’s kind of fun here. Other times you’re over the edge, you grab onto roots and rocks, any one that’ll get you out of this, because you know what’s coming. You have a ferocious instinct to survive. You keep thinking, oh my god, which one will save me? And then, of course, you’re not on the edge at all, you’re way down below, where there is no sun, no moon, no field, no rocks, no roots. Just the bodies of all the other people who tried to get to the top.
I guess I just need to figure out how I got from the field to the edge, how I got from the edge to hanging on. Did I walk? Did I fall? Or was I pushed?
12:57 PM
4.08.2004
We played a game with leftover balloons. Here’s what we had.
-an exacto knife
-a screwdriver
-scissors
-a couple of saws
-a sledgehammer
We took turns pitching weapons at the balloons. Trying to pop ‘em. We were looking for an explosion. We talked about the Hutus, the Harpers, the perception of privilege, the personal hang-ups, the FBI, and the ECO-terrorist.
With you, you’re confusing. You have this career, you have this job or anything you want, but you live in shitholes and you move more than anyone I know.
There is too much to choose. And we both know it, so we played a game with these birthday balloons.
That’s been done to me before. I know what you’re saying. But you have to let someone go, with it all on the table.
1:15 AM
4.05.2004
Friday was nuts. I was exhausted from running around Thursday, trying to find a parasol, a plastic baby and printing off 600 zines for the burlesque show. Friday’s show was great, there weren’t that many people I knew in the audience but the line-up started at 7 pm and wove around the street to the corner of Gottigen. When Alyssa and I were on stage I found it really hard not to crack up and I thought I was going to pee my underpants. Our costumes were ridiculous. We made short ballerina skirts and a bustier out of chicken wire and glued Chinese hell money all over them. We did our item to an Eartha Kitt song (she played Catwoman in 60s TV and sang ‘Santa Baby’) started it in black wraparound lining, which I had picked up at Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart is trippy. Have you noticed people bump into you a lot there? I get kind of mad when I’m there and I say “Jesus Fucking Christ” a lot and talk to myself.
Saturday was fun because Stacey, Mark, Gerry and my sister came out to the show. Stacey said she was in the bathroom and she asked the person in the next stall for some toilet paper and the woman said,“Could you wait a minute?” and then left without giving her any toilet paper. Rude. It was probably the same woman who sat in the chair next to the bar and the line-up and then got mad when someone bumped into her. I snuck Mark and Gerry down to the smoking lounge because I wanted to hang out with them, which was just for performers, and then we got in trouble and they were asked to leave. I stayed and smoked and got yelled at for not going with them, something about solidarity.
We went to the after party at Jay’s. Mark had his scarf and jacket on the dance floor, and Nora, in pasties, took off his scarf and his jacket, Simone joined in and Dusty ripped open his dress shirt and he lost all of his buttons. He took his pants off and danced with them around his ankles, then he took off his boxers and AJ whipped his bare bum with the leather strap.
12:38 PM
4.01.2004
(Hmm, it's April Fool's Day, what truly retarded prank can I pull today.)
SIIIIIIKE
posted by: Mr. X
[screenshot]
4:15 AM
