7.30.2004
Go to Heavy Meadows tonight and I'll let you suck on my neck. Hell's Kitchen. Seth is opening with a solo project. I'm leaving at 5 am tomorrow. I am a person of 'lasts.'
Like this. This is the laaaaaast time I'll see you in your underwear. This is the laaaaaast time I will walk down this alleyway full of used condoms and possibly human excrement.
I have many feelings.
a/queasy
b/what the fuck have I done?
c/sad
d/sad
e/looking forward to getting a cell phone and becoming a Toronto person. Which means I'll get skinny and shop all the time.
I'm also going to the lake in 3 hours. This is the laaaaaast time I'll swim in the lake.
9:54 AM
7.28.2004
Love Bites, Love Bleeds
It’s Bringing me to my Knees
We walked through a field of wild rose bushes in our bare feet. We picked throns out when we reached the rock and I took off my shirt. Now I have legs full of bruises and scratches. We went for a swim and I jumped in without thinking about the cold, like I have taught myself to do.
A wasp attached itself to the hood of the car and Alyssa got mad and said “Go suck on a rose! What are you doing here?” and I thought it was really funny.
Then I drank gin with some friends in the Commons. In Hell, Dave P bought me a double, I wore Bob’s new Dartmouth hat, and when AJ said “Let’s do something wild” I said “You wanna see something wild” and picked up a glass from the table and tossed it to middle of the floor. It made a nice smashing sound. Not wild, just dumb. I could have made someone’s eye bleed. Except, no matter what I do, I can’t get kicked out of that place. I'm through with gin, like I'm through with love.
5:59 PM
7.26.2004
Black Sheep and your Will
I was half sleepy in bed and as I was waking up I yelled ‘fuck fuck fuck’ because I have more things to pack, like clothes I don’t wear, and that heavy green cheque presser from the 60s. I’ll need that.
I think we’re going to visit my Great Aunt Bernice in Mississauga, who really held it together, a couple of years ago when her older sister Mary died and Mary’s 42 year old son Blaise who showed up from Vancouver after 10 years of disappearance and went to the wake high on ecstasy. It was like he came he went. I remember being really drawn to him----my cousin, the black sheep. Or like, one of them. He ran around the funeral home hugging everyone, except he would have his elbows really close to his ribs and he would come at you with his palms spread near his cheekbones and this really, quite huge, smile. It was frightening. I searched for track marks. Near the coffin, he whispered in my ear “They made her hair look like a rat’s nest” and then he cackled. Bernice’s husband Ernie, who is tall and round in the middle and whom I associate with the color navy, was the one who kept running after Blaise. Blasie left the funeral to go to the bar and get smashed. In New Waterford that’s ok.
If I bring the heavy mint green cheque presser that once made it on TV in an item about cell phone boosters, I thought I could trade Ernie for one of his antique cameras. He collects antique cameras. I have always wanted to collect antique cameras and antique typewriters. I even once imagined I would have an antique room just for typewriters, if I were rich. The room would be red and each typewriter would have its own tall, thin, table. Ernie does not collect cheque pressers from the 60s, but it’s worth a whirl. Or how do you delicately bring up “When you die could you please leave me my grandfather’s coal mining lantern? I have this obsession with the dark. Thanks.”
10:15 AM
7.25.2004
Best parts of Friday Night
-drank ¾ of a quart of vanilla vodka mixed with strawberry stuff. and felt people’s bums—danced to Peaches and made Cora and Allysa laugh so loud I laughed til my stomach hurt and had to hold my legs together because I almost peed—then running to the corner to bite my nails and hide behind the crash mat and wish people would leave----not knowing 1/3 of the people there, not even recognizing faces---cutting out on a conversation to hop on the back of the palette metal thing that Annette was pushing with dancing (trippy)Kieran---falling off---trying to light Adam’s crotch on fire while he passed out and stealing his cigarettes—then chasing Adam while he rolled across the floor after waking up and taking back the cigarette---the really nice hug from Gerry---having weird conversations with people---seeing Emily come through the crowd like a pink angel---trying to clear things up---dancing to Sir-Mix-a-Lot and apparently slapping Laura's ass--nearly puking when I took a drink of whiskey---getting pins off people---Scott giving me his leather bracelet---the transparent leaf and the book---crying on Philip’s neck---finding Erin and Adam on a corner and giving up on a tightly rolled joint at 5:30 in the morning to go to bed.
11:09 AM
7.23.2004
It's funny how when the word 'fucking' is about to come out of your mouth (I don't mean fucking fucking but more like 'that fucking assfart' or 'I have something to fucking do') and it's about to come out and you think just for the split second when your brain decided to use that word (like the time your brain decided to pour coffee on that Irish guy who pissed you off) that maybe you shouldn't use it, you ask yourself 'is it warranted?' 'am I overusing?' and then you decide to use it and your really emphasize the F and it feels so good cause everyone gets quiet for a second and you keep frying up the haddock and then people exchange glances and all hell breaks loose and your mother screams "Don't curse at us missy!!!"
3:59 PM
7.22.2004
It is one half mine so I should probably say something about it.
Rules and Notes
-no syphilis allowed. We have special stuff that'll make it glow, so watch out. King worshipper.
-ADD definately welcome. We heart you.
-bring your own fucking drinks and your own weed.
-bring me presents. I blush and look awfully cute when given material objects.
-stay late. I have a feeling some people will come late (the shows!the shows!, which I'd like to see but if I left my own party to run around the North End, that would be gay). If you're comin late, and by that I mean after 12 which is when most parties start anyway, expect to stay late and drink. I'm not kidding.
-don't come in, say hi, then leave. It'll really annoy me.
-dance.
-even though I declared I never wanted to do mushrooms ever again. I might want to. I'll have to feel the vibe, man.
-about the dancing. DJ Juggs and Tommy Gunn will provide music. But they probably won't want to do it all night, it' s exhausting. If anyone wants to dj, let me know. I'd ask Gerry but I think he wants to drink, and I'd prefer him drunk anyway. And Esten is in Toronto. Loser.
-it's at Tobin's new space, old Bingo Hall.
-if I haven't sent you an invite or an email or talked to you directly, it doesn't matter. If we've hung out just once, it doesn't matter. I probably like you. So come.
-if you don't come you will be missed.
11:19 PM
7.21.2004
I feel like I've ruined something.
I knew it at that moment and I know it now.
I'm sorry.
1:15 PM
7.20.2004
oh hahaaha. I also found this list in a notebook I bought recently. It's a ridiculous list. It's not in my hand writing.
-bread
-orange juice
-potatoes
-butter
-foot powder
-moustache wax
-blue cheese dressing
-marmalade
If you know who you are you should come forward. MOUSTACHE WAX!!!! BLUE CHEESE DRESSING!!!! Also, can't you tell I'm avoiding the packing thing. I think all I've done is move stuff around, read stuff and post stuff.
11:48 AM
I'm packing. Going through boxes full of loose papers and pictures, trying to decide what I'll take with me. And I found this poem I wrote about my aunt, 7 years ago. Weeeeird.
On this side, you are nameless,
Pockets crammed with rabbit hair
Tufts of you. I never met---
your mousy face, the helpless eyes,
the sagging breast. The noose around your
neck.
On this side, you are nameless.
A brother mows grass---
bare.
your sister runs to Europe.
the niece remembers a birthday,
a song that crept, tired shouts, ants
in carpet.
11:15 AM
7.19.2004
Failures
So, last week, Stacey calls me up and says, “I gotta work on my karma. Issac,
(sidenote: our friend Issac is a Buddhist. He was buddhisted at the Shambhala Centre a month ago. His name is Rock Mountian. Everyone gasped.)
told me that to make myself feel better I have to be nice. Let’s volunteer for the Special Olympics.”
“Ok.”
Saturday night, after my haircut, Stacey picked me up on Spring Garden and doubled me on her bmx. Lots of people smile at us when we’re getting doubled.
We had to stop and ask several people about Tower Rd. We’ve both been there before but there’s something about that street that makes you forget about it as soon as you can. We finally got to Tower Rd, Home of the Huskies gym where the dance was being held. The nice lady at the front was named Tracey. They were giving out T-shirts. Bright yellow T-shirts.
“I look awful in yellow,” said Stacey.
“Everyone looks awful in yellow.”
“You’re the one who wanted to bring yellow back.”
I rolled my eyes at her. “As an accessory.”
It didn’t matter anyway because they only had extra large. Tracey said that Dave would be back with boxes full of T-shirts and we could have our T-shirts and that she would find us. She smiled a lot and crossed off names with a blue highlighter. I doubted she would find us. Stacey and I went in and sat on the bleachers. There were a large number of volunteers. None of them seemed to be doing anything. We sat there and got bored. We smoked and went back in and looked at people.
And then they started pouring in. Someone wore a bag on her head. Someone else had pink hair. I was thinking a lot of people remind me of people in the North End. Everything was going well. Stacey ate a chip and got looked at weird by another volunteer. "Maybe it's because you're wearing a low cut top," I said. We walked around and there were people dancing. We met a guy who didn’t talk but his friend talked a lot and told us about winning medals. We met Elvis. We met Sean who hugged us and kept coming back to hug us, and it was really nice, he would jump off the bleacher and hug us, he’d walk by and pat me on the back, and smile. Then Sean came over and pointed to his girlfriend who was sitting on the bleachers and said, “That’s my girlfriend. Her name is Nicole Smith.”
“She’s very pretty,” said Stacey.
“We’re getting married,” said Sean.
“Are you going to reproduce?” said Stacey.
“That’s between Nicole and I,” said Sean.
Then Sean tickled my leg and felt it up and came in for a hug and whispered, “You have nice legs” in my ear and then ran away. It felt weird and I laughed for about 3 minutes straight and nearly peed my pants because I wasn’t sure how to take it and I felt really uncomfortable
Then we walked around some more. And a teenager stood and stared at Stacey. And she felt uncomfortable so we decided to move to the other side of the gym and we browsed the art on the walls and when we got to the other side and found a place to stand, we looked up and saw the same kid staring at Stacey, in a way I can’t describe.
She looked at me, wild-eyed, had a mini panic attack, so I started picking up empty water bottles from the table.
We sat on the bleachers again. And then we got asked to slow dance. We definitely didn’t want to. We said no and had to see the hurt look and we felt awful and our karma was shot and fucked anyway, so we left. Actually we ran to the bathroom and tried to figure out how we would get out of there without anyone knowing. I paced for a bit.
We marched past Tracey without looking back cause we didn’t want her to know we were skipping out and it was the only door and we’d only been there for 40 minutes and we didn’t even get our T-shirts (which is good cause then we’d have been obligated to stay). Stacey fumbled with her bike lock key and we felt like panicing. I hopped on the pegs, off we went and the giant Special Olympics pin was so heavy it pulled on Stacey’s tank top and exposed her nipple. So she ripped it off and biffed it across the street and it pinged off the windshield of a car. And we both squealed cause that’s even WORSE.
“Even the volunteers hated us,” said Stacey. “We’re just not part of the volunteer ‘in’ crowd.”
I tried to reassure her because she felt like we had really failed and that we couldn’t even volunteer properly. I told her she’d be good at volunteering with jailbirds. I just feel like that’d be better for her.
1:09 AM
7.14.2004
The Babyhead Photo Essay.
7:36 PM
7.12.2004
It took me about 5 seconds to remember I HATE TO SEW. I fucking hate it hate hate it. I don't care if there's a big fucking rip in the ass of my favorite jeans. I'm still gonna wear them, fuck I hate sewing.
12:03 PM
7.07.2004
I saw Fahrenheit 9/11 last night. As a film maker Michael Moore is really good. He takes you to the brink of emotion and then releases you with some laughter. Classic Comic Relief. Shakespeare style. I liked the film.
But...oh hell this guy says it better.
When the film addresses this question directly, what analysis does Moore offer of the reasons for the Iraq war? A family member of a soldier who died asks, "for what?" and Moore cuts to the subject of war profiteering. That segment appropriately highlights the vulture-like nature of businesses that benefit from war. But does Moore really want us to believe that a major war was launched so that Halliburton and other companies could increase its profits for a few years? Yes, war profiteering happens, but it is not the reason nations go to war. This kind of distorted analysis helps keep viewers' attention focused on the Bush administration, by noting the close ties between Bush officials and these companies, not the routine way in which corporate America makes money off the misnamed Department of Defense, no matter who is in the White House.
Robert Jensen, Journalism Prof, Guerrila News Network
p.s. thanks to
Cybogist
for the original link.
10:55 AM
All I want is everything to be better.
As I drove home from the movie, turned to take the exit back to Sackville, my headlights flashed on four wobbly legs running along the side of the road.
All week, when I take the car out I have held onto the steering wheel with both hands, white knuckled and ready to swerve. I drive 10 k below the speed limit and I scan the side of the road, the green of it, looking for some sort of leap. I have become obsessed with the thought that I will hit a deer and I imagine all the possibilities. The brown eyes on my windshield. The warm, brown body. The meridian smashed with blood.
Yes. These are things I think about.
I saw the baby deer tonight on the side of the highway. Maybe she was looking for a place to cross. I looked around, I wanted to stop the car and get out and shoo the deer back into the woods, or carry it. Or do something. I watched the car behind me. Would she cross then? Where's her mother? Dead? Please no, no no.
So now I’m sitting here and I’m crying and I’m thinking about a lot of things.
1:06 AM
7.04.2004
So I did door for burlesque both nights. The little star hole punch thing for tickets might be cute but it's not practical. It broke Gretchen's bracelet and it gave us all palm palipatations.
I was a cranky door person, bordering on bitchy in fact. That might be because I have TB. My father had TB when I was a child, without symptoms, so I'm not far off. He had to get injections for like a decade. As soon as I was finished door though I started drinking. Friday night I had coronas. Since I wore a miniskirt and I never do that I thought it was ok to ask Gerry and Shannon to buy me beer. They did.
I had to carry a pink bag around all night cause it had over $1000 in it. I told everyone I was the make-up girl.
Stacey and I discussed our recent rash of fighting. Thursday night I think I yelled something about self-centered and fuck you, who knows I was drunk. I decided I don't want to drink with her anymore, that I'd rather work on our photo essay with the Baby Head during our sober hours.
I love seeing bouncing boobies. Friday night,I showed up at Gerry's cause I was drunk and I needed a place to stay. They were watching Batman 3. The piece of fur tried to do it with my mafia boot.
Saturday night was much the same. I started drinking coronos, then switched to bavaria, then to Smirnoff coolers (?) then Mike's hard lemonade (don't ask I was loaded), then peach snapps at Tobins' then something Faith gave me.
The after party at Tobin's was fun. I got wheeled around in the wheelchair, someone plucked a feather from my vintage feather hat and I didn't lose it on them. There were strawberries, veggie pate, grapes, 6 kinds of cheese (havarti, gouda, brie, swiss, etc) and spiked punch with huge chunks of watermelon in it. I remember thinking "This is like rich spread." I danced. I took a picture of Faith on one of the toilets (there's two with no doors). Philip peed while I made faces in the big round mirror and then Philip came over and we made faces together taking pictures with our mind.
I stayed on Bloomfield's couch, encountered Philip in the kitchen at 6:45 in his housecoat and me in one his T-shirts that I swiped from his drawer, went upstairs and peed the brightest, most yellowest pee ever.
2:00 PM
7.02.2004
Tonight's accessories
A plastic glow in the dark rosary.
And a dead mafia wife's black granny boots.
Come visit me at St. Antonia's. I'm doing door for the Burlesque. Even if you're not going. Although, there's capoeira, trapeze, a bus orgy, opera. Ummm. Other stuff.
5:50 PM
I bought two fancy boxes. It took me a while to pick them out. They’re romantic boxes. Like cracked vanilla cream and roses in a vase. I don’t even know if I like roses. Well, of course I like roses, but they’re not my favorite or anything.
I need to take better care of my memories.
Chapterhouse: Dune by Frank Herbert. I haven’t read it, although it was due back at the library about four years ago. There is a piece of folded paper on page 279 where the reader got distracted and stopped reading. This folded piece of paper will stay there forever or until someone else removes it when I’m old or dead. That goes in the box.
The blue rectangle shaped notebook from South Korea. It’s called Kam’s family. There’s a black character, with cross eyes, a bone through his nose and very big red lips turned downward and a gold ring through one ear. He’s wearing a Flintstone dress and waving a stone hammer. It’s obviously racist and a little odd. On the back, in a thought bubble, it says “Friendship is self-control when you are eager to hit him.” I think it was given as a gift from a child when I was in Korea. When I flipped through it, I found something familiar. My name with the big C, the tall L. The D and T’s slanted towards the left and 40$, written the French way, next to it. And the name Christine below it. No, I can never throw this out. So it goes in the box too.
The alien. It’s a glow in the dark, thumb-sized alien who used to have a bunch of alien friends. The alien and his alien friends were sent a long time ago through the mail to someone in a care package, with candy and letters and pictures. Eventually the alien and its friends came here and settled down. But this was the only one found in the purple dresser that was cleaned out for the first time since who knows. It’s ugly and stupid and it takes up space. So I’ll put it in the box.
The OC Transpo, Adult bus pass, number 205652. It is old enough now, that the dye from the photo, of a smiling man, who let his hair grow a little that winter and who is wearing an off-white dress shirt, but didn’t shave, the dye from this fuzzy photo has imprinted the plastic, so I imagine that as the years go by, because I’ll never throw it out, the photo will switch places. It will fade from one place and appear on another.
1:25 PM
7.01.2004
Do you have a microscopic camera lens? Imagine all the close-ups.
You can get that close.
You can show them in your photo-album.
10:54 PM
Go to Heavy Meadows tonight and I'll let you suck on my neck. Hell's Kitchen. Seth is opening with a solo project. I'm leaving at 5 am tomorrow. I am a person of 'lasts.'
Like this. This is the laaaaaast time I'll see you in your underwear. This is the laaaaaast time I will walk down this alleyway full of used condoms and possibly human excrement.
I have many feelings.
a/queasy
b/what the fuck have I done?
c/sad
d/sad
e/looking forward to getting a cell phone and becoming a Toronto person. Which means I'll get skinny and shop all the time.
I'm also going to the lake in 3 hours. This is the laaaaaast time I'll swim in the lake.
9:54 AM
7.28.2004
Love Bites, Love Bleeds
It’s Bringing me to my Knees
We walked through a field of wild rose bushes in our bare feet. We picked throns out when we reached the rock and I took off my shirt. Now I have legs full of bruises and scratches. We went for a swim and I jumped in without thinking about the cold, like I have taught myself to do.
A wasp attached itself to the hood of the car and Alyssa got mad and said “Go suck on a rose! What are you doing here?” and I thought it was really funny.
Then I drank gin with some friends in the Commons. In Hell, Dave P bought me a double, I wore Bob’s new Dartmouth hat, and when AJ said “Let’s do something wild” I said “You wanna see something wild” and picked up a glass from the table and tossed it to middle of the floor. It made a nice smashing sound. Not wild, just dumb. I could have made someone’s eye bleed. Except, no matter what I do, I can’t get kicked out of that place. I'm through with gin, like I'm through with love.
5:59 PM
7.26.2004
Black Sheep and your Will
I was half sleepy in bed and as I was waking up I yelled ‘fuck fuck fuck’ because I have more things to pack, like clothes I don’t wear, and that heavy green cheque presser from the 60s. I’ll need that.
I think we’re going to visit my Great Aunt Bernice in Mississauga, who really held it together, a couple of years ago when her older sister Mary died and Mary’s 42 year old son Blaise who showed up from Vancouver after 10 years of disappearance and went to the wake high on ecstasy. It was like he came he went. I remember being really drawn to him----my cousin, the black sheep. Or like, one of them. He ran around the funeral home hugging everyone, except he would have his elbows really close to his ribs and he would come at you with his palms spread near his cheekbones and this really, quite huge, smile. It was frightening. I searched for track marks. Near the coffin, he whispered in my ear “They made her hair look like a rat’s nest” and then he cackled. Bernice’s husband Ernie, who is tall and round in the middle and whom I associate with the color navy, was the one who kept running after Blaise. Blasie left the funeral to go to the bar and get smashed. In New Waterford that’s ok.
If I bring the heavy mint green cheque presser that once made it on TV in an item about cell phone boosters, I thought I could trade Ernie for one of his antique cameras. He collects antique cameras. I have always wanted to collect antique cameras and antique typewriters. I even once imagined I would have an antique room just for typewriters, if I were rich. The room would be red and each typewriter would have its own tall, thin, table. Ernie does not collect cheque pressers from the 60s, but it’s worth a whirl. Or how do you delicately bring up “When you die could you please leave me my grandfather’s coal mining lantern? I have this obsession with the dark. Thanks.”
10:15 AM
7.25.2004
Best parts of Friday Night
-drank ¾ of a quart of vanilla vodka mixed with strawberry stuff. and felt people’s bums—danced to Peaches and made Cora and Allysa laugh so loud I laughed til my stomach hurt and had to hold my legs together because I almost peed—then running to the corner to bite my nails and hide behind the crash mat and wish people would leave----not knowing 1/3 of the people there, not even recognizing faces---cutting out on a conversation to hop on the back of the palette metal thing that Annette was pushing with dancing (trippy)Kieran---falling off---trying to light Adam’s crotch on fire while he passed out and stealing his cigarettes—then chasing Adam while he rolled across the floor after waking up and taking back the cigarette---the really nice hug from Gerry---having weird conversations with people---seeing Emily come through the crowd like a pink angel---trying to clear things up---dancing to Sir-Mix-a-Lot and apparently slapping Laura's ass--nearly puking when I took a drink of whiskey---getting pins off people---Scott giving me his leather bracelet---the transparent leaf and the book---crying on Philip’s neck---finding Erin and Adam on a corner and giving up on a tightly rolled joint at 5:30 in the morning to go to bed.
11:09 AM
7.23.2004
It's funny how when the word 'fucking' is about to come out of your mouth (I don't mean fucking fucking but more like 'that fucking assfart' or 'I have something to fucking do') and it's about to come out and you think just for the split second when your brain decided to use that word (like the time your brain decided to pour coffee on that Irish guy who pissed you off) that maybe you shouldn't use it, you ask yourself 'is it warranted?' 'am I overusing?' and then you decide to use it and your really emphasize the F and it feels so good cause everyone gets quiet for a second and you keep frying up the haddock and then people exchange glances and all hell breaks loose and your mother screams "Don't curse at us missy!!!"
3:59 PM
7.22.2004
It is one half mine so I should probably say something about it.
Rules and Notes
-no syphilis allowed. We have special stuff that'll make it glow, so watch out. King worshipper.
-ADD definately welcome. We heart you.
-bring your own fucking drinks and your own weed.
-bring me presents. I blush and look awfully cute when given material objects.
-stay late. I have a feeling some people will come late (the shows!the shows!, which I'd like to see but if I left my own party to run around the North End, that would be gay). If you're comin late, and by that I mean after 12 which is when most parties start anyway, expect to stay late and drink. I'm not kidding.
-don't come in, say hi, then leave. It'll really annoy me.
-dance.
-even though I declared I never wanted to do mushrooms ever again. I might want to. I'll have to feel the vibe, man.
-about the dancing. DJ Juggs and Tommy Gunn will provide music. But they probably won't want to do it all night, it' s exhausting. If anyone wants to dj, let me know. I'd ask Gerry but I think he wants to drink, and I'd prefer him drunk anyway. And Esten is in Toronto. Loser.
-it's at Tobin's new space, old Bingo Hall.
-if I haven't sent you an invite or an email or talked to you directly, it doesn't matter. If we've hung out just once, it doesn't matter. I probably like you. So come.
-if you don't come you will be missed.
11:19 PM
7.21.2004
I feel like I've ruined something.
I knew it at that moment and I know it now.
I'm sorry.
1:15 PM
7.20.2004
oh hahaaha. I also found this list in a notebook I bought recently. It's a ridiculous list. It's not in my hand writing.
-bread
-orange juice
-potatoes
-butter
-foot powder
-moustache wax
-blue cheese dressing
-marmalade
If you know who you are you should come forward. MOUSTACHE WAX!!!! BLUE CHEESE DRESSING!!!! Also, can't you tell I'm avoiding the packing thing. I think all I've done is move stuff around, read stuff and post stuff.
11:48 AM
I'm packing. Going through boxes full of loose papers and pictures, trying to decide what I'll take with me. And I found this poem I wrote about my aunt, 7 years ago. Weeeeird.
On this side, you are nameless,
Pockets crammed with rabbit hair
Tufts of you. I never met---
your mousy face, the helpless eyes,
the sagging breast. The noose around your
neck.
On this side, you are nameless.
A brother mows grass---
bare.
your sister runs to Europe.
the niece remembers a birthday,
a song that crept, tired shouts, ants
in carpet.
11:15 AM
7.19.2004
Failures
So, last week, Stacey calls me up and says, “I gotta work on my karma. Issac,
(sidenote: our friend Issac is a Buddhist. He was buddhisted at the Shambhala Centre a month ago. His name is Rock Mountian. Everyone gasped.)
told me that to make myself feel better I have to be nice. Let’s volunteer for the Special Olympics.”
“Ok.”
Saturday night, after my haircut, Stacey picked me up on Spring Garden and doubled me on her bmx. Lots of people smile at us when we’re getting doubled.
We had to stop and ask several people about Tower Rd. We’ve both been there before but there’s something about that street that makes you forget about it as soon as you can. We finally got to Tower Rd, Home of the Huskies gym where the dance was being held. The nice lady at the front was named Tracey. They were giving out T-shirts. Bright yellow T-shirts.
“I look awful in yellow,” said Stacey.
“Everyone looks awful in yellow.”
“You’re the one who wanted to bring yellow back.”
I rolled my eyes at her. “As an accessory.”
It didn’t matter anyway because they only had extra large. Tracey said that Dave would be back with boxes full of T-shirts and we could have our T-shirts and that she would find us. She smiled a lot and crossed off names with a blue highlighter. I doubted she would find us. Stacey and I went in and sat on the bleachers. There were a large number of volunteers. None of them seemed to be doing anything. We sat there and got bored. We smoked and went back in and looked at people.
And then they started pouring in. Someone wore a bag on her head. Someone else had pink hair. I was thinking a lot of people remind me of people in the North End. Everything was going well. Stacey ate a chip and got looked at weird by another volunteer. "Maybe it's because you're wearing a low cut top," I said. We walked around and there were people dancing. We met a guy who didn’t talk but his friend talked a lot and told us about winning medals. We met Elvis. We met Sean who hugged us and kept coming back to hug us, and it was really nice, he would jump off the bleacher and hug us, he’d walk by and pat me on the back, and smile. Then Sean came over and pointed to his girlfriend who was sitting on the bleachers and said, “That’s my girlfriend. Her name is Nicole Smith.”
“She’s very pretty,” said Stacey.
“We’re getting married,” said Sean.
“Are you going to reproduce?” said Stacey.
“That’s between Nicole and I,” said Sean.
Then Sean tickled my leg and felt it up and came in for a hug and whispered, “You have nice legs” in my ear and then ran away. It felt weird and I laughed for about 3 minutes straight and nearly peed my pants because I wasn’t sure how to take it and I felt really uncomfortable
Then we walked around some more. And a teenager stood and stared at Stacey. And she felt uncomfortable so we decided to move to the other side of the gym and we browsed the art on the walls and when we got to the other side and found a place to stand, we looked up and saw the same kid staring at Stacey, in a way I can’t describe.
She looked at me, wild-eyed, had a mini panic attack, so I started picking up empty water bottles from the table.
We sat on the bleachers again. And then we got asked to slow dance. We definitely didn’t want to. We said no and had to see the hurt look and we felt awful and our karma was shot and fucked anyway, so we left. Actually we ran to the bathroom and tried to figure out how we would get out of there without anyone knowing. I paced for a bit.
We marched past Tracey without looking back cause we didn’t want her to know we were skipping out and it was the only door and we’d only been there for 40 minutes and we didn’t even get our T-shirts (which is good cause then we’d have been obligated to stay). Stacey fumbled with her bike lock key and we felt like panicing. I hopped on the pegs, off we went and the giant Special Olympics pin was so heavy it pulled on Stacey’s tank top and exposed her nipple. So she ripped it off and biffed it across the street and it pinged off the windshield of a car. And we both squealed cause that’s even WORSE.
“Even the volunteers hated us,” said Stacey. “We’re just not part of the volunteer ‘in’ crowd.”
I tried to reassure her because she felt like we had really failed and that we couldn’t even volunteer properly. I told her she’d be good at volunteering with jailbirds. I just feel like that’d be better for her.
1:09 AM
7.14.2004
The Babyhead Photo Essay.
7:36 PM
7.12.2004
It took me about 5 seconds to remember I HATE TO SEW. I fucking hate it hate hate it. I don't care if there's a big fucking rip in the ass of my favorite jeans. I'm still gonna wear them, fuck I hate sewing.
12:03 PM
7.07.2004
I saw Fahrenheit 9/11 last night. As a film maker Michael Moore is really good. He takes you to the brink of emotion and then releases you with some laughter. Classic Comic Relief. Shakespeare style. I liked the film.
But...oh hell this guy says it better.
When the film addresses this question directly, what analysis does Moore offer of the reasons for the Iraq war? A family member of a soldier who died asks, "for what?" and Moore cuts to the subject of war profiteering. That segment appropriately highlights the vulture-like nature of businesses that benefit from war. But does Moore really want us to believe that a major war was launched so that Halliburton and other companies could increase its profits for a few years? Yes, war profiteering happens, but it is not the reason nations go to war. This kind of distorted analysis helps keep viewers' attention focused on the Bush administration, by noting the close ties between Bush officials and these companies, not the routine way in which corporate America makes money off the misnamed Department of Defense, no matter who is in the White House.
Robert Jensen, Journalism Prof, Guerrila News Network
p.s. thanks to
Cybogist
for the original link.
10:55 AM
All I want is everything to be better.
As I drove home from the movie, turned to take the exit back to Sackville, my headlights flashed on four wobbly legs running along the side of the road.
All week, when I take the car out I have held onto the steering wheel with both hands, white knuckled and ready to swerve. I drive 10 k below the speed limit and I scan the side of the road, the green of it, looking for some sort of leap. I have become obsessed with the thought that I will hit a deer and I imagine all the possibilities. The brown eyes on my windshield. The warm, brown body. The meridian smashed with blood.
Yes. These are things I think about.
I saw the baby deer tonight on the side of the highway. Maybe she was looking for a place to cross. I looked around, I wanted to stop the car and get out and shoo the deer back into the woods, or carry it. Or do something. I watched the car behind me. Would she cross then? Where's her mother? Dead? Please no, no no.
So now I’m sitting here and I’m crying and I’m thinking about a lot of things.
1:06 AM
7.04.2004
So I did door for burlesque both nights. The little star hole punch thing for tickets might be cute but it's not practical. It broke Gretchen's bracelet and it gave us all palm palipatations.
I was a cranky door person, bordering on bitchy in fact. That might be because I have TB. My father had TB when I was a child, without symptoms, so I'm not far off. He had to get injections for like a decade. As soon as I was finished door though I started drinking. Friday night I had coronas. Since I wore a miniskirt and I never do that I thought it was ok to ask Gerry and Shannon to buy me beer. They did.
I had to carry a pink bag around all night cause it had over $1000 in it. I told everyone I was the make-up girl.
Stacey and I discussed our recent rash of fighting. Thursday night I think I yelled something about self-centered and fuck you, who knows I was drunk. I decided I don't want to drink with her anymore, that I'd rather work on our photo essay with the Baby Head during our sober hours.
I love seeing bouncing boobies. Friday night,I showed up at Gerry's cause I was drunk and I needed a place to stay. They were watching Batman 3. The piece of fur tried to do it with my mafia boot.
Saturday night was much the same. I started drinking coronos, then switched to bavaria, then to Smirnoff coolers (?) then Mike's hard lemonade (don't ask I was loaded), then peach snapps at Tobins' then something Faith gave me.
The after party at Tobin's was fun. I got wheeled around in the wheelchair, someone plucked a feather from my vintage feather hat and I didn't lose it on them. There were strawberries, veggie pate, grapes, 6 kinds of cheese (havarti, gouda, brie, swiss, etc) and spiked punch with huge chunks of watermelon in it. I remember thinking "This is like rich spread." I danced. I took a picture of Faith on one of the toilets (there's two with no doors). Philip peed while I made faces in the big round mirror and then Philip came over and we made faces together taking pictures with our mind.
I stayed on Bloomfield's couch, encountered Philip in the kitchen at 6:45 in his housecoat and me in one his T-shirts that I swiped from his drawer, went upstairs and peed the brightest, most yellowest pee ever.
2:00 PM
7.02.2004
Tonight's accessories
A plastic glow in the dark rosary.
And a dead mafia wife's black granny boots.
Come visit me at St. Antonia's. I'm doing door for the Burlesque. Even if you're not going. Although, there's capoeira, trapeze, a bus orgy, opera. Ummm. Other stuff.
5:50 PM
I bought two fancy boxes. It took me a while to pick them out. They’re romantic boxes. Like cracked vanilla cream and roses in a vase. I don’t even know if I like roses. Well, of course I like roses, but they’re not my favorite or anything.
I need to take better care of my memories.
Chapterhouse: Dune by Frank Herbert. I haven’t read it, although it was due back at the library about four years ago. There is a piece of folded paper on page 279 where the reader got distracted and stopped reading. This folded piece of paper will stay there forever or until someone else removes it when I’m old or dead. That goes in the box.
The blue rectangle shaped notebook from South Korea. It’s called Kam’s family. There’s a black character, with cross eyes, a bone through his nose and very big red lips turned downward and a gold ring through one ear. He’s wearing a Flintstone dress and waving a stone hammer. It’s obviously racist and a little odd. On the back, in a thought bubble, it says “Friendship is self-control when you are eager to hit him.” I think it was given as a gift from a child when I was in Korea. When I flipped through it, I found something familiar. My name with the big C, the tall L. The D and T’s slanted towards the left and 40$, written the French way, next to it. And the name Christine below it. No, I can never throw this out. So it goes in the box too.
The alien. It’s a glow in the dark, thumb-sized alien who used to have a bunch of alien friends. The alien and his alien friends were sent a long time ago through the mail to someone in a care package, with candy and letters and pictures. Eventually the alien and its friends came here and settled down. But this was the only one found in the purple dresser that was cleaned out for the first time since who knows. It’s ugly and stupid and it takes up space. So I’ll put it in the box.
The OC Transpo, Adult bus pass, number 205652. It is old enough now, that the dye from the photo, of a smiling man, who let his hair grow a little that winter and who is wearing an off-white dress shirt, but didn’t shave, the dye from this fuzzy photo has imprinted the plastic, so I imagine that as the years go by, because I’ll never throw it out, the photo will switch places. It will fade from one place and appear on another.
1:25 PM
7.01.2004
Do you have a microscopic camera lens? Imagine all the close-ups.
You can get that close.
You can show them in your photo-album.
10:54 PM
