11.30.2004
This is What Happens when you Tell Your Mother about Your Cat Dream Not to mention the Creepy Baby Dream which She Will Never Know.
"ohhh hahhahahahahaha. You're crazy! Hahhahhahhahha. I love you."
click.
-Do men have disturbing Freud type birth dreams where you diagnose yourself? No. eh.
10:28 AM
11.29.2004
Stepped into a Catholic High School today. Bloody Jesus. There’s a statue of the Virgin right up front, wearing blue robes like always, lily skin, folded pious hands in prayer. My heart starts pounding and I get thirsty. I go to the principle’s office and there’s a red leather Holy Bible spread open on the table, with the piece of satin in it, a bunch of candles and pictures of nuns and the Pope. Oh fuck. I’m suddenly eight years old confessing my sins to the old fat guy in purple. The only thing I could come up was how I knocked over some kids popcorn in the play ground ACCIDENTLY when I ran past. “Anything else?” he keeps asking. I couldn't think of anything else, So I had to make shit up so it would appear as though I were a sinner confessing my sins cause it looked like I was trying to hide something. "ummmm, I'm mean to my sister?"
I run back to the van and rip the plastic rosary off my neck.
“I can’t wear this!” I scream and stuff it in my bag.
“Sure you can, I saw the girls. They’re all wearing crosses.”
“NOT AS FASHION ACCESSORIES!”
6:11 PM
My glow in the dark rosary is a big hit. We tested it out by shoving it down my top. It works. Last night I dreamt a cat in a hat got my cat to buy property in Saudi Arabia. My cat signed it July 17, 2001. The date was wrong. We figured that was the only thing she could write. We had to forge her signature. My mother looked over the contract on the sofa in her pink housecoat. My father shook his head.
That's not really what I want to say. I mean it's cool that my cat owns property now. I've always wanted to go there, but jesus, you constantly make me feel like I'm having a heart attack. Trust is a big fucking deal with me. A. Big. Fucking. Deal. I don't know what to do.
1:07 PM
11.28.2004
They were arguing over one single french fry. Three pigeons. The prettier ones, with light brown mottles and cream breasts. One pigeon would clamp on the french fry, delicate, at the end, shake it like the souped up pitbulls in the news, without the grip. So, down it would go, the flabby french fry, next to cigarette butts and dried up leaves that never had a chance.
Then the second pigeon would make a move, without the smooth and the french fry flew away from the curb, right in the middle of west. Traffic.
No one cares about pigeons.
They fight over this french fry and I think about their bellies. It flies like fucked stars on acid. And you think ‘will they make it?’ and tires are fast approaching but the french fry is more important than anything, even spilled guts.
Bump.
Yesterday I asked Kevin. I said, “Kevin, you pick the coldest corner, on Bay Street, in front of Starbucks. Kevin, where will you sleep tonight?”
“Right here.”
A gentle bump, wings flapping desperado and I think. “These things can’t even fly properly. What will happen?”
Cars don’t care. Cars just want to keep going, cause cars have important places where they need to be. I consider directing traffic, jumping into the street, changing the location of the french fry. Why does a machine have more right to the road then a living, flapping, hungry creature?
The pigeons knocked against windshields and barely missed some rubber burns, fighting over the french fry, pecking at the french fry for just one salty piece. Not even the good kind. And partially frozen.
10:28 AM
11.24.2004
Dear friends,
Everytime I smoke something that feels like purple happens to the skin around my eyes. I'm not saying it looks like purple, it feels like purple. There's a difference. Not only that but I get a lump deep in my throat on the left side. You're right. It could be a fake lump. But it's a lump, nonetheless. More and more these days I'm thinking that what you believe is real is in fact real and that's all that matters. Whether it is actually real to other people does not matter.
I smoked last night. It was great and it was awful. But, if you know me, even a little, you would know that I prefer all or nothing. In fact, just last night, my roommate, who has known me for 12 years, said I have high expectations of people, which she thinks is not a bad thing, but that sometimes people are afraid of letting me down. Well, anyway, back to smoking. I like to smoke. But it's killing me. Really. If I could smoke say a cigarette or two--like you do, I'd be ok. If I could smoke only when I'm drinking, like you do, fine. But I don't do that. You see, I can smoke and smoke and smoke. I don't even want one most of the time. I'm just obsessive about lighting one cigarette after another. And another. And another. I don't even take breaks.
Cigarettes are killing me.
I also have no willpower. Oh wait. that's not true. I have excellent willpower. I just choose not to exercise it at times. When it suits me.
Cigarettes are killing me. So. I'm dumping you all. The ones who smoke and drink. I know. This is harsh...but I can no longer be around cigarettes. Bye.
Claudette
2:58 PM
11.23.2004
Think of it as my email to you
I'm so bored right now, waiting for Joe to pick me up so I can go get drunk. Not that I need to be drunk or anything, I just figure, why the fuck not? I'm also going to smoke. I'm not upset or anything. I just get this attitude where I don't care. At all. Also I'm going to apply for a line of credit so I can travel. Like I give a shit about crushing debt. Did you know that I talk to inanimate objects? Such as kettles and food. And you said I was rational. I listened to the Cinnamen Toast comp last night. Man, it sucked. I forgot. Except for maybe like 3 songs. Anyway I'm putting some of them on mixed tapes I'm making people. I haven't sent Gerry his damn letter and pictures yet even though I wrote it. And the plant still has has these crazy roots basically taking over the glass. If it doesn't get planted soon, it will die. I know it. All that time I spend looking at the plant I could be actually getting dirt and putting it in the pot I bought and planting the fucking plant. But no. I just look at it. The problem is that I still feel like I'm just visiting. You know what I mean? Today someone at work was absent mindingly hovering his crotch area. So I said "Why are you touching your crotch?" and his face went red. Opps. Tamara and I watched Sex Tips for Girls and it was about anal sex. This couple tried anal sex and they had the camera in the room and they told the camera about their experience. She didn't look very happy. Tamara told me I try to control drugs. I take medication then I don't take it, I take it then I don't, lallalalala. When I was on birth control I used to miss 4 days and then take them all at once. Smart people don't do that. lallallalala. Today I made myself laugh and splurted miso soup all over the computer. Nice. It's not really soup. It's more like tea.
6:43 PM
I want to make a 100 year long documentary on the effects of climate change on the Inuit.
Mosquitos, dead polar bears and skin cancer.
Maybe if people could see it, they would care.
4:31 PM
11.22.2004
I stole this from myself from here
In Toronto right now, there is a huge debate going on about a video that the school board is showing elementary school students. It teaches the students to be tolerant of other gay students and kids who have gay parents. It teaches them that it's not ok to be mean to people who they perceive as different. Some Muslim parents were very against it, because they said a video about homeosexuals went against their religion. They wanted their children exempt from class the day they show the video.
Supporters of the video argue it's not about sexuality---it's about intolerance, teaching students to be tolerant of others, which is exactly what we're talking about here.The school board has since ruled that Muslim students will still have to attend the video class. Some Muslims who were against the video say gay rights are more valued than religious rights.
But my questions are; what do you do when there are two oppossing human rights?
Does the greater good over ride rights? In this case, the greater good is 'teaching tolerance.' Does teaching tolerance trump religious rights? Does teaching students to be tolerant of gay people automatically teach them to be tolerant of everyone who is different, including people who don't practice the same religion? And who's to say who's right?
3:58 PM
11.18.2004
With that running commentary in my head. Boy. I am insightful and analytical and even beautiful and full of wisdom, at 3 am in jersey sheets and crinkling down.
Last night I cracked the mystery of love. I turned it on its side, unbuttoned its skin, splayed its legs, traced my finger on its bone.
A second ago, a ferocious animal ready to fight; matted paw, dragon scale, red -eye thorns. Now, after last night's murder, it shrinks and snivels on the ground. Escapes like rotten smoke from flame.
I have no use for wimps.
6:09 PM
"So, you really want to settle down some day, and have a baby in a few years?"
"Yeah, of course!"
"I dunno, Clo-debt...picturing you with a baby would be so weird."
"What do you mean, you don't know?! I'd be great with a baby."
"It would just be weird."
"No, it wouldn't."
"It wouldn't go with your outfit, that's for sure."
2:15 PM
11.17.2004
Tracy's 30th b-day. Thanks to i love gravy for the pics. Yo. Look. I'm the centre of attention.
6:08 PM
This is where we played thumbs. Right here, at this bus stop, across from Rideau Centre. This is where we played thumbs while I stood on your toes. Oh! and look, this is where we were civil and had poached eggs, poached eggs, and I missed my train. And this, look at this, this is the path under the road, this is the underpass, where you said the homeless sleep. This is the museum. Where I went to get out of you. And have I been here before? Is this the park? Is this the store?
2:45 PM
1:09 PM
11.15.2004
In the last three days I have eaten a kiwi, a muffin, a tangerine. I tried to eat some bread at 3 am but it tasted like wet cotton so I spit it out.
I feel like vomiting. Except there’s nothing there. Thinking about food makes me want to vomit. My hands are shaking. I am thirsty and my heart is pounding.
My mother will be happy. It’s easier when you have no feelings.
It’s pretty sad when the only thing you can turn to is a drug.
3:10 PM
ye banks and braes o' yorke redoubt,
how can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
how can ye chant, ye little birds,
and i'm sae weary, fu' o' care!
ye'll break my heart, ye warbling bird,
that wanders through the flow'ring thorn
mind me o' departed joys,
departed, never to return.
aft hae i roam by yorke redoubt,
to see the rose in woodbine twine;
and every bird sings all its love,
and fondly sae that i o' mine.
with lightsome heart i put a rose,
for sweet upon a thorny tree.
but robyn o' heather staw my rose,
and ah they left was the luv in me.
ye banks and braes o' yorke redoubt,
how can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
how can ye chant, ye little birds,
and i'm sae weary, fu' o' care!
ye'll break my heart, ye warbling bird,
that wanders through the flow'ring thorn
mind me o' departed joys,
departed, never to return.
--posted by 'byrd' on robin's site. I love this poem. I hope it's ok that I posted it here.
1:52 PM
11.14.2004
I should go for a walk. It’s sunny. I should eat something today. But Irony makes me feel a little queasy. I’m sick of looking over my shoulder.
3:47 PM
11.12.2004
I'm an emotional masterpiece today.
11:58 AM
11.08.2004
They were playing at Air Canada Centre when Tamara and I went to get our Beastie Boys tickets.
1:59 PM
11.05.2004
Marc LePage---this is for you baby. By the way, how's your baby?
I need to get in touch with you. I'll be in Ottawa on the 9th around 1 in the afternoon---I have afternoon, supper or night time. I'd like to see you. I'm shooting all day the 10th and leaving early on the 11th. But we can hang out the night of the 10. I hope you can.
I was looking at pictures the other night and there's this one picture where you and Jason came home really drunk and woke me up to play like you always did and I was wearing this over sized man t-shirt from Banff and you jumped on my back cause I said I could piggyback you upstairs, but I couldn't. Remember? There's also that one where I'm sticking my tongue in or around your ear.
I have a long tongue.
Call me 416-778-4395.
6:14 PM
I can have nightmares about my dead boyfriend and our Frankenstein house and our Frankenstein jobs. I can wake up crying because outsiders have poked at my illusions. I can do all of this, but I cannot move closer.
3.2.2004 When I was a little girl, I dreamt of monsters. Monsters shuffled down the hallway and bumped into the plaster, adjusting the curtains: monsters tore at the windows of the 7-Eleven, and shattered the walls at French school,
monsters shit in holes and laid razors, like a deck of cards, on the porcelain floor. Monsters hurled themselves through open wooden doors and forged alliances with my enemies.
Monsters ripped at my teeth. Monsters jumped off cliffs, hung themselves from the rafters in the garage and curled up in the corner of parking lots.
When I was a little girl I dreamt of monsters chasing me. I lived in the most complicated house ever imagined. With narrow stairs in the walls and trap doors. So huge and slender.
Those are old posts I wrote in response to recurring nightmares I was having. You remember who the true monster was in Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’, don’t you? Why did pop culture get it mixed up? It’s Dr. Frankenstein, the creator. The monster didn’t have a name.
In my dreams I built him out of parts. I tried to pass him off as a living person. I even moved us far away to a villa where old people slapped a poker table. They ignored us mostly. Until one day, I kissed him goodbye as he went to work. When I turned around they were staring at me.
“You know he’s not real, don’t you?”
And the truth filled me and it was awful. The truth stretched me too thin. Yet, I have always sought it. The way I touch people. The truth. Does it even exist? There are several truths. Multiple realities. This is why I always get illusions mixed up with hope and the truth seems unattainable. Sometimes I am not even sure I want it.
Sometimes I think I am healing. But there’s a name I can barely speak out loud. And now I dream of her.
Which is the nightmare? The dream or the truth?
I wish I could tell you where it hurts.
2:01 PM
11.02.2004
There are lots of things I could do in life. I'm feeling like a major change is in order. I want opinions.
a) Go to publishing school. It's here in Toronto. It's hard to get into. Whatever that doesn't bother me.
b) Apply for internships/jobs with the United Nations (or wherever--possibly grants) teaching objective journalism to countries previously living in police states. I would love to do this.
c) Apply for my Masters in Creative Writing at UBC. Long time dream. Actually I should probably just get my Masters degree in something anyway. I don't know where.
5:09 PM
My sister put a picture of me on her desk and now one of her friends wants to make out with me. She told him he wasn’t my type. I trust my sister’s taste in men for me. She really loved Tweedie. And he loved her. He always used to threaten me with her involvement in order to bring me to my senses when the I Ching and doing it up against the wall didn’t work. We rented ‘The Unbearable Lightness of Being” once but then I had a panic attack and had to return it.
This morning I sat next to a woman who talked about the parish with this guy who wore beige pants and kept rubbing his thigh. Parish this, parish that. Why do people describe it as “I wandered away…” You’re not really a lamb, you know. That’s like. A metaphor. Maybe I’m Christianity intolerant. I admit it. I am. But my Sunday school teacher called me a slut when I said I wore bathing suits in front of guys. I wonder what she would have thought if she knew I was letting my boyfriend put his hand up my skirt. I’m also eating some really sick tasting hommus made in St. Laurent. I could do without the sesame butter, sodium benzoate and potassium sorbate. Now I have to go to boxing class and CBC Radio got me all teary eyed cause today, well today, is a story.
1:25 PM
11.01.2004
Let's talk about tits. It's nice to know my roommate covets tits like mine, the ones I have right now, that is, cause lately I've been coveting the tits I had in pictures. I want A's. I want those tits. God, they change so much. Anyway, I think there's a huge problem when a 5 year old child screams in terror in a room full of people, gripping to her mother's hair and then her mother lifts her shirt and the child starts sucking on her mother's nipple and everyone on the couch gets up and leaves. We're not in the fucking woods.
I realize every situation is different and some call for "special" circumstances and as long as you're a good parent (and they were) do what you will. I've never seen terror so effortlessly averted and so easily plumped for the future in one moment. Dearest mom, you're not helping your child by teaching her to avoid the world and turn to you because you have some fucked up need to be needed.
9:22 AM
This is What Happens when you Tell Your Mother about Your Cat Dream Not to mention the Creepy Baby Dream which She Will Never Know.
"ohhh hahhahahahahaha. You're crazy! Hahhahhahhahha. I love you."
click.
-Do men have disturbing Freud type birth dreams where you diagnose yourself? No. eh.
10:28 AM
11.29.2004
Stepped into a Catholic High School today. Bloody Jesus. There’s a statue of the Virgin right up front, wearing blue robes like always, lily skin, folded pious hands in prayer. My heart starts pounding and I get thirsty. I go to the principle’s office and there’s a red leather Holy Bible spread open on the table, with the piece of satin in it, a bunch of candles and pictures of nuns and the Pope. Oh fuck. I’m suddenly eight years old confessing my sins to the old fat guy in purple. The only thing I could come up was how I knocked over some kids popcorn in the play ground ACCIDENTLY when I ran past. “Anything else?” he keeps asking. I couldn't think of anything else, So I had to make shit up so it would appear as though I were a sinner confessing my sins cause it looked like I was trying to hide something. "ummmm, I'm mean to my sister?"
I run back to the van and rip the plastic rosary off my neck.
“I can’t wear this!” I scream and stuff it in my bag.
“Sure you can, I saw the girls. They’re all wearing crosses.”
“NOT AS FASHION ACCESSORIES!”
6:11 PM
My glow in the dark rosary is a big hit. We tested it out by shoving it down my top. It works. Last night I dreamt a cat in a hat got my cat to buy property in Saudi Arabia. My cat signed it July 17, 2001. The date was wrong. We figured that was the only thing she could write. We had to forge her signature. My mother looked over the contract on the sofa in her pink housecoat. My father shook his head.
That's not really what I want to say. I mean it's cool that my cat owns property now. I've always wanted to go there, but jesus, you constantly make me feel like I'm having a heart attack. Trust is a big fucking deal with me. A. Big. Fucking. Deal. I don't know what to do.
1:07 PM
11.28.2004
They were arguing over one single french fry. Three pigeons. The prettier ones, with light brown mottles and cream breasts. One pigeon would clamp on the french fry, delicate, at the end, shake it like the souped up pitbulls in the news, without the grip. So, down it would go, the flabby french fry, next to cigarette butts and dried up leaves that never had a chance.
Then the second pigeon would make a move, without the smooth and the french fry flew away from the curb, right in the middle of west. Traffic.
No one cares about pigeons.
They fight over this french fry and I think about their bellies. It flies like fucked stars on acid. And you think ‘will they make it?’ and tires are fast approaching but the french fry is more important than anything, even spilled guts.
Bump.
Yesterday I asked Kevin. I said, “Kevin, you pick the coldest corner, on Bay Street, in front of Starbucks. Kevin, where will you sleep tonight?”
“Right here.”
A gentle bump, wings flapping desperado and I think. “These things can’t even fly properly. What will happen?”
Cars don’t care. Cars just want to keep going, cause cars have important places where they need to be. I consider directing traffic, jumping into the street, changing the location of the french fry. Why does a machine have more right to the road then a living, flapping, hungry creature?
The pigeons knocked against windshields and barely missed some rubber burns, fighting over the french fry, pecking at the french fry for just one salty piece. Not even the good kind. And partially frozen.
10:28 AM
11.24.2004
Dear friends,
Everytime I smoke something that feels like purple happens to the skin around my eyes. I'm not saying it looks like purple, it feels like purple. There's a difference. Not only that but I get a lump deep in my throat on the left side. You're right. It could be a fake lump. But it's a lump, nonetheless. More and more these days I'm thinking that what you believe is real is in fact real and that's all that matters. Whether it is actually real to other people does not matter.
I smoked last night. It was great and it was awful. But, if you know me, even a little, you would know that I prefer all or nothing. In fact, just last night, my roommate, who has known me for 12 years, said I have high expectations of people, which she thinks is not a bad thing, but that sometimes people are afraid of letting me down. Well, anyway, back to smoking. I like to smoke. But it's killing me. Really. If I could smoke say a cigarette or two--like you do, I'd be ok. If I could smoke only when I'm drinking, like you do, fine. But I don't do that. You see, I can smoke and smoke and smoke. I don't even want one most of the time. I'm just obsessive about lighting one cigarette after another. And another. And another. I don't even take breaks.
Cigarettes are killing me.
I also have no willpower. Oh wait. that's not true. I have excellent willpower. I just choose not to exercise it at times. When it suits me.
Cigarettes are killing me. So. I'm dumping you all. The ones who smoke and drink. I know. This is harsh...but I can no longer be around cigarettes. Bye.
Claudette
2:58 PM
11.23.2004
Think of it as my email to you
I'm so bored right now, waiting for Joe to pick me up so I can go get drunk. Not that I need to be drunk or anything, I just figure, why the fuck not? I'm also going to smoke. I'm not upset or anything. I just get this attitude where I don't care. At all. Also I'm going to apply for a line of credit so I can travel. Like I give a shit about crushing debt. Did you know that I talk to inanimate objects? Such as kettles and food. And you said I was rational. I listened to the Cinnamen Toast comp last night. Man, it sucked. I forgot. Except for maybe like 3 songs. Anyway I'm putting some of them on mixed tapes I'm making people. I haven't sent Gerry his damn letter and pictures yet even though I wrote it. And the plant still has has these crazy roots basically taking over the glass. If it doesn't get planted soon, it will die. I know it. All that time I spend looking at the plant I could be actually getting dirt and putting it in the pot I bought and planting the fucking plant. But no. I just look at it. The problem is that I still feel like I'm just visiting. You know what I mean? Today someone at work was absent mindingly hovering his crotch area. So I said "Why are you touching your crotch?" and his face went red. Opps. Tamara and I watched Sex Tips for Girls and it was about anal sex. This couple tried anal sex and they had the camera in the room and they told the camera about their experience. She didn't look very happy. Tamara told me I try to control drugs. I take medication then I don't take it, I take it then I don't, lallalalala. When I was on birth control I used to miss 4 days and then take them all at once. Smart people don't do that. lallallalala. Today I made myself laugh and splurted miso soup all over the computer. Nice. It's not really soup. It's more like tea.
6:43 PM
I want to make a 100 year long documentary on the effects of climate change on the Inuit.
Mosquitos, dead polar bears and skin cancer.
Maybe if people could see it, they would care.
4:31 PM
11.22.2004
I stole this from myself from here
In Toronto right now, there is a huge debate going on about a video that the school board is showing elementary school students. It teaches the students to be tolerant of other gay students and kids who have gay parents. It teaches them that it's not ok to be mean to people who they perceive as different. Some Muslim parents were very against it, because they said a video about homeosexuals went against their religion. They wanted their children exempt from class the day they show the video.
Supporters of the video argue it's not about sexuality---it's about intolerance, teaching students to be tolerant of others, which is exactly what we're talking about here.The school board has since ruled that Muslim students will still have to attend the video class. Some Muslims who were against the video say gay rights are more valued than religious rights.
But my questions are; what do you do when there are two oppossing human rights?
Does the greater good over ride rights? In this case, the greater good is 'teaching tolerance.' Does teaching tolerance trump religious rights? Does teaching students to be tolerant of gay people automatically teach them to be tolerant of everyone who is different, including people who don't practice the same religion? And who's to say who's right?
3:58 PM
11.18.2004
With that running commentary in my head. Boy. I am insightful and analytical and even beautiful and full of wisdom, at 3 am in jersey sheets and crinkling down.
Last night I cracked the mystery of love. I turned it on its side, unbuttoned its skin, splayed its legs, traced my finger on its bone.
A second ago, a ferocious animal ready to fight; matted paw, dragon scale, red -eye thorns. Now, after last night's murder, it shrinks and snivels on the ground. Escapes like rotten smoke from flame.
I have no use for wimps.
6:09 PM
"So, you really want to settle down some day, and have a baby in a few years?"
"Yeah, of course!"
"I dunno, Clo-debt...picturing you with a baby would be so weird."
"What do you mean, you don't know?! I'd be great with a baby."
"It would just be weird."
"No, it wouldn't."
"It wouldn't go with your outfit, that's for sure."
2:15 PM
11.17.2004
Tracy's 30th b-day. Thanks to i love gravy for the pics. Yo. Look. I'm the centre of attention.
6:08 PM
This is where we played thumbs. Right here, at this bus stop, across from Rideau Centre. This is where we played thumbs while I stood on your toes. Oh! and look, this is where we were civil and had poached eggs, poached eggs, and I missed my train. And this, look at this, this is the path under the road, this is the underpass, where you said the homeless sleep. This is the museum. Where I went to get out of you. And have I been here before? Is this the park? Is this the store?
2:45 PM
1:09 PM
11.15.2004
In the last three days I have eaten a kiwi, a muffin, a tangerine. I tried to eat some bread at 3 am but it tasted like wet cotton so I spit it out.
I feel like vomiting. Except there’s nothing there. Thinking about food makes me want to vomit. My hands are shaking. I am thirsty and my heart is pounding.
My mother will be happy. It’s easier when you have no feelings.
It’s pretty sad when the only thing you can turn to is a drug.
3:10 PM
ye banks and braes o' yorke redoubt,
how can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
how can ye chant, ye little birds,
and i'm sae weary, fu' o' care!
ye'll break my heart, ye warbling bird,
that wanders through the flow'ring thorn
mind me o' departed joys,
departed, never to return.
aft hae i roam by yorke redoubt,
to see the rose in woodbine twine;
and every bird sings all its love,
and fondly sae that i o' mine.
with lightsome heart i put a rose,
for sweet upon a thorny tree.
but robyn o' heather staw my rose,
and ah they left was the luv in me.
ye banks and braes o' yorke redoubt,
how can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
how can ye chant, ye little birds,
and i'm sae weary, fu' o' care!
ye'll break my heart, ye warbling bird,
that wanders through the flow'ring thorn
mind me o' departed joys,
departed, never to return.
--posted by 'byrd' on robin's site. I love this poem. I hope it's ok that I posted it here.
1:52 PM
11.14.2004
I should go for a walk. It’s sunny. I should eat something today. But Irony makes me feel a little queasy. I’m sick of looking over my shoulder.
3:47 PM
11.12.2004
I'm an emotional masterpiece today.
11:58 AM
11.08.2004
They were playing at Air Canada Centre when Tamara and I went to get our Beastie Boys tickets.
The security dude just let us in to use the washroom! and there we were! On the inside. Some girl in the washroom told us what was up. I thought, no way man. We’re in for free! There must be lots of leftover seats.
"I want popcorn!" I declared and I strutted among the crowd. “Let’s stay! I can’t believe he let us in.”
Tamara followed me around. “You really want popcorn?”
“Fuck ya! It’s a hockey game. They eat popcorn at those, don’t they?”
“You wanna watch the hockey game?” She curled her lip, but kept following me. “Who are the original seven?”
“I think it’s the original six.”
“oh….ummm, don’t you feel like a lost art kid getting sucked in by the big bad sports arena?”
“NO!”
“Who are the Original Six anyway?”
“…..ummm…Doug Gilmour? ….I dunno. thought they were dead. Is Maurice Richard dead?”
“I hate hockey. Hockey is boring. ”
“No way man! It's exciting! But... I do kind of wish it was basketball. It’s exciting when you have someone to root for.”
‘Who are we rooting for?”
“The ORIGINAL SIX!”
“Can we go now?”
"yeahhhhh....The popcorn’s too expensive anyway. I’d rather buy cheese.”
1:59 PM
11.05.2004
Marc LePage---this is for you baby. By the way, how's your baby?
I need to get in touch with you. I'll be in Ottawa on the 9th around 1 in the afternoon---I have afternoon, supper or night time. I'd like to see you. I'm shooting all day the 10th and leaving early on the 11th. But we can hang out the night of the 10. I hope you can.
I was looking at pictures the other night and there's this one picture where you and Jason came home really drunk and woke me up to play like you always did and I was wearing this over sized man t-shirt from Banff and you jumped on my back cause I said I could piggyback you upstairs, but I couldn't. Remember? There's also that one where I'm sticking my tongue in or around your ear.
I have a long tongue.
Call me 416-778-4395.
6:14 PM
I can have nightmares about my dead boyfriend and our Frankenstein house and our Frankenstein jobs. I can wake up crying because outsiders have poked at my illusions. I can do all of this, but I cannot move closer.
3.2.2004 When I was a little girl, I dreamt of monsters. Monsters shuffled down the hallway and bumped into the plaster, adjusting the curtains: monsters tore at the windows of the 7-Eleven, and shattered the walls at French school,
monsters shit in holes and laid razors, like a deck of cards, on the porcelain floor. Monsters hurled themselves through open wooden doors and forged alliances with my enemies.
Monsters ripped at my teeth. Monsters jumped off cliffs, hung themselves from the rafters in the garage and curled up in the corner of parking lots.
When I was a little girl I dreamt of monsters chasing me. I lived in the most complicated house ever imagined. With narrow stairs in the walls and trap doors. So huge and slender.
Those are old posts I wrote in response to recurring nightmares I was having. You remember who the true monster was in Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’, don’t you? Why did pop culture get it mixed up? It’s Dr. Frankenstein, the creator. The monster didn’t have a name.
In my dreams I built him out of parts. I tried to pass him off as a living person. I even moved us far away to a villa where old people slapped a poker table. They ignored us mostly. Until one day, I kissed him goodbye as he went to work. When I turned around they were staring at me.
“You know he’s not real, don’t you?”
And the truth filled me and it was awful. The truth stretched me too thin. Yet, I have always sought it. The way I touch people. The truth. Does it even exist? There are several truths. Multiple realities. This is why I always get illusions mixed up with hope and the truth seems unattainable. Sometimes I am not even sure I want it.
Sometimes I think I am healing. But there’s a name I can barely speak out loud. And now I dream of her.
Which is the nightmare? The dream or the truth?
I wish I could tell you where it hurts.
2:01 PM
11.02.2004
There are lots of things I could do in life. I'm feeling like a major change is in order. I want opinions.
a) Go to publishing school. It's here in Toronto. It's hard to get into. Whatever that doesn't bother me.
b) Apply for internships/jobs with the United Nations (or wherever--possibly grants) teaching objective journalism to countries previously living in police states. I would love to do this.
c) Apply for my Masters in Creative Writing at UBC. Long time dream. Actually I should probably just get my Masters degree in something anyway. I don't know where.
5:09 PM
My sister put a picture of me on her desk and now one of her friends wants to make out with me. She told him he wasn’t my type. I trust my sister’s taste in men for me. She really loved Tweedie. And he loved her. He always used to threaten me with her involvement in order to bring me to my senses when the I Ching and doing it up against the wall didn’t work. We rented ‘The Unbearable Lightness of Being” once but then I had a panic attack and had to return it.
This morning I sat next to a woman who talked about the parish with this guy who wore beige pants and kept rubbing his thigh. Parish this, parish that. Why do people describe it as “I wandered away…” You’re not really a lamb, you know. That’s like. A metaphor. Maybe I’m Christianity intolerant. I admit it. I am. But my Sunday school teacher called me a slut when I said I wore bathing suits in front of guys. I wonder what she would have thought if she knew I was letting my boyfriend put his hand up my skirt. I’m also eating some really sick tasting hommus made in St. Laurent. I could do without the sesame butter, sodium benzoate and potassium sorbate. Now I have to go to boxing class and CBC Radio got me all teary eyed cause today, well today, is a story.
1:25 PM
11.01.2004
Let's talk about tits. It's nice to know my roommate covets tits like mine, the ones I have right now, that is, cause lately I've been coveting the tits I had in pictures. I want A's. I want those tits. God, they change so much. Anyway, I think there's a huge problem when a 5 year old child screams in terror in a room full of people, gripping to her mother's hair and then her mother lifts her shirt and the child starts sucking on her mother's nipple and everyone on the couch gets up and leaves. We're not in the fucking woods.
I realize every situation is different and some call for "special" circumstances and as long as you're a good parent (and they were) do what you will. I've never seen terror so effortlessly averted and so easily plumped for the future in one moment. Dearest mom, you're not helping your child by teaching her to avoid the world and turn to you because you have some fucked up need to be needed.
9:22 AM
