sponsor/help out a friend...

wow, rough night. better now. sleep now.

they call her gold
but truth be told
she never got anything better
than a silver sweater
to keep out the cold

snuggle up in her soul
and still they called her gold
with empathy as warm as wool
yet they never chose that girl
but they would gladly keep her fold

so badly wanting to be best
in a world of significantly less
not a vest of silver, nor of gold
but a friendly waiting hand to hold
and a love so deep confessed

the winters came and the summers went
no longer would she wait for them
drying up eyes so filled with tears
she ripped away a lifetime of fears
and herself did reinvent

nothing but a segue
a rock between monuments
not feeling worth
what i'm worth
today

sponsor/help out a friend...

...and possibly someone you know, or yourself down the road:

http://www.earlrootfund.org/

i've known earl for a few years now, and he is... pretty fucking cool. i can't describe it, after a while you immediately know when people are worth your while or not. he is.



one of my best friends, leslie, is participating in the walk for a cure (i would if i was in minneapolis), and if you're feeling generous, please donate and help sponsor her. thanks!

GO HERE TO DONATE

though, i guess, it does give me a reason to buy a new ring.

motherFUCKER. i lost one of my rings today. it fell off my hand and i didn't even know until i got to work... gone. this was a one-of-a-kind dealy i bought in trinidad two Christmases ago. i am so fucking bummed and pissed off right now.

edit: now it pales in comparison with the friend i whined about this to... break-up city. :(

oops.

5pm edit: so to even further ridicufy my ring experience, my brother took his expired passport to the airport by accident (don't ask) and found out 1.5 hours before his flight leaves. him and his wife live on coxwell! and, of course, he called me in a panic, but i don't have the car today so i couldn't help him out... so i hope they caught their flight to amsterdam. last i heard they were in the midst of a very expensive cab ride to and from their house in rush hour. maybe this stressful dealy will convince him to smoke a j? heh.

Last night on my way downtown I heard a familiar bit-o-music. A small piece from a song I once knew, then quickly remembered: it was a good song of epic proportions, performed and written perfectly by a favourite band of mine.

Except for one thing: it wasn't them singing it. As the raspy, unrefined vocals kicked in, I couldn't immediately tell who it was. Thoughts of Chris Cornell ran through my head as sugar plums do on Christmas Eve™. A few more seconds of exposure brought to my attention that it was, indeed, Pearl Jam: a paste of uncultured pearls.

First off, I like Pearl Jam. I dig some of the grunge, and even though Eddie Vedder just kinda stands there these days, they are very much enjoyable to at least listen to (i.e. not paying $100 to watch Vedder stand there and make stroke-face).

Getting back to last night, however, it was a complete and utter butchery of a song that should never really be covered in the first place. Perhaps I am biased since The Who are my number one band, but Pearl Jam's cover of Love Reign O'er Me was completely uncalled for and, quite frankly, terrible. Like a bull being castrated on a humid summer morn', so too did Eddie Vedder screech himself towards the final riff. The beauty of that song is its softness: from the synth/strings to the smooth yelling of one Roger Daltrey, it's like a musical king of love reigning over his completely lobotomized kingdom. Or something.

Anyway, I was so disgusted that I actually made Disgusting Face™ at another driver at the stop light.

I never want to hear it again. However, for your (dis)pleasure, here it is in all its UNglory for you to poke audio ice picks into your own ear drums.

Horrible.

i watched a def poetry dvd where one of the performers spoke of needing to write... with that i can relate. you may have noticed that i reduced the links section, that's because i don't give a shit. i started this blog as a personal release. somewhere that i could write out my thoughts (because i am terrible at sharing them any other way) and my close friends could keep up to date. it ballooned, as things do... then it turned into a deletion, a year's hiatus, now back... and was trying to actually have a bit of an audience again. but fuck that noise.

if i don't care if anyone reads this, then why write here?- you may ask. well because if i don't let it out somewhere i will self-destruct. it's happened before and i'd prefer to try to avoid it.

i don't know what i am feeling as of late, but i think i know why i am feeling it- this complete and utter (and 100% manufactured) despair. it's stupid yet makes sense... it's hilarious yet quite sad. i can't explain it, but i am told it will pass. i assume it will... it has in the past.

there are so many things i pretend not to want because i am too lazy to work for them, and so many things i can have but don't want because i didn't choose them. probably the story of everyone's life, but why do i feel so alone?

mondays. bleh.

sang with lisa and band tonight, so i shall post a couple pics sometime this week once i have had a chance to upload/edit. tara sloane was playing in the front room at the cameron house and we could hear all of the band's stuff through the curtains. go cameron house!

we've changed the chandelier since then.

i am a lazy blogger, lately.

but on the upside, i am getting an 80's road bike, in near perfect condition, tonight! el cheapo, too.

that's all for now. maybe more later, but i dunno, lazy rates have been on the rise since this morning...

if marriage means to wait around forever to be taken for granted, then count me out. my ideas of romance and love have somewhat recently been reevaluated. all because of friendly friends and being able to open myself up, truly, to at least one person. it helps when that person already knows what's in there, too. i have no illusions this time, but i am glad we are at where we are at, it's like a part of me is alive again and i believe the feeling is mutual. it's been a while.

and then there's this...

well i am home now. i started with the monster cramps around noon and had to leave. plus slow brain + irritable + customers with twangy, gross american accents = head explosion/brains in the keyboard. and we wouldn't want that. i gotta get some sleep and some ibuprofen.

just finished the rest of that seafood chowder - i'll post the recipe later on. it's so tasty. goes well with Gina mango nectar.

k, gnight then...

"it's 'uterUS', marge, not 'uterYOU'."

ricardo: i haven't seen the second lord of the rings. i don't need to, i saw the first and the last, so i know what happens. the second is inconsequential.

me: it's not the outcome that matters, but the journey there. hasn't life taught you anything?!

lately i've been feeling pretty drained. i'm pretty sure today's irritability is a result of that which i do not wish to talk about, though it might also just be life in general. i need something else to look forward to, something else to feel good about completing. i just had my art thingy, and that was good. i don't know... i think i'm going to drop off my mountain bike to be tuned up this weekend, buy some colder weather cycling gear, and get the fuck out on the trails. the only thing stopping me is only having shorts and jerseys.

in other news: they put cream in my coffee this morning instead of the milk i asked for. i've grown to like the thinner coffee, lacking the fatty film left on your tongue after each sip. it's much smoother.

this sunday i'm making a baguette-sandwich lunch for my dad's b-day and family type folks are coming over. i would like to reiterate that i am not the person to come to for relationship advice or consolation. my philosophy is pretty much "cut and run". i will be of no help.

that is all.

the facts of history are creeping in. things are never what they seem. avoidance is survival. pretending is life.

ahhh. i just finished a pot of the best low fat, low cal seafood chowder. it tastes like heaven! i can't wait for lunch tomorrow. and thursday. and friday. but for now... bedtime.

improved archie (har har! thanks tim!)

toothpastefordinner.com

paper towel was not made for this sort of thing. a statement only one who went into a bathroom, did their thing, then looked down in horror could utter and truly believe.

it's getting to that time when i need to move out. i am too much of my own person, now, and i sometimes wonder why i didn't do it sooner. it's not that i live a boring life, by all means, but i just never left home. until now. this saturday i am checking out some places along the danforth, in the east-end, to see if they are what i'm looking for. i can't wait to have my own place, i never have before, so it's all new to me. to be able to come home and be alone, truly alone, for as long as i want to be. to clean the dishes when i feel like it, and not have to hear about the dirty dishes several times before then. i lose patience too easily, these days. snapping without any real reason other than having held in the snapping several times before.

i've always been pretty independent having a job, paying my way, treating those who go out of their way for me, and so forth, so i don't anticipate this being any big surprise. budgeting and housework i have done before and will just continue, probably in the same way that my mother does (because that's pretty much where we all end up, right?). though maybe i'll really find out a lot about me, find out that the way i do things will be nothing like how she does (because that's pretty much where we all end up, right?). i don't have any preference, but am interested to see the results.

stinky can come visit me some weekends and pee covertly, bark non-stop, and run around being cute.

i am so excited that it's drowning out the scariness of being on my own.

the final step in becoming an adult, i guess.

though who will laugh at my jokes? watch me make a mouth-puppet and speak to them with what's left of my gut? who will pick lint off my shoulder? funny, 'cause a lot of people who i don't speak to too often have asked if i'm moving in with a boyfriend or something, but no no no no. not at this point in life. i need my space, i need me space and am pretty dog-like in protection of said space. roommates have been ruled out because of that reason. i get pretty cranky when i don't have aimoo time.

oh well, better start stocking up on the wine.

just kidding, dreams don't mean shit.

having only gotten about two hours of sleep the night before, last night i went to bed at eight o'clock and dreamt about every piece of garbage possible, it involved the following:

-the approaching manchurian army
-rollercoasters inside of a fortress
-a movie theatre
-guns (i didn't have one, and nobody would lend me one)
-the edge of the world which consisted of carpets with extra-long tassle edges, blowing in the wind towards the black and starry sky. and there was the moon, also.
-a pope pretending he didn't see me 'hide' by hanging off the edge of the earth, by the carpet's tassles, just so i could get away from the manchurian army (coward)
-vestial virgins who lived in the garden by the edge of the earth
-the suicide of our leader in front of me (an honourable death while facing defeat)
-the homicide of me as i laid at the edge of the earth watching our leader die as he stabbed me
-watching a middle-aged, pudgy woman (looks like a typical grade school teacher) sword fight with the leader of the manchurian army as i died (she appeared earlier and was all unsuspecting)

then i woke up. our leader was played by that black guy from snatch, the one who plays SOL. he is now in the show "jericho" and pretends he is Americo... i saw an ad for this the other day, thus i assume that is how he got into my dream. the sneaky bastard.

what do you think it all means?!

$1050/MO. for a bsement apartment, just 'cause it's on palmerston? people really are stupid...

this is how i feel today.

both literally and metaphorically.

... or is it?

seeing two infinite companions tonight brought up emotions i never expected. perhaps, like so many before me, i am too close to it...

suffering the true lack of meaning in life, tonight. stupid. nothing means anything and the opposite is true, then why the strange and frequent coincidences? a heightened sense of being, or paranoia?

why keep checking over your shoulder for shadows when you know it's just your hair?

why is there a separation between what we would actually do and what turns us on? is it really 'the taboo' or is it something else? in real life, certain things seem to not only turn us off, but to make us disgusted, so why the separation between reality and fantasy?

moreso, is this necessary for our mental stability... do we rely on there being certain things about ourselves that only we know? is it reassuring to know that nobody else will ever know some of those things?

the onset of blogging and exposing your fantasies would contradict this, like more and more people want others to know what we desire in our bedrooms at one in the morning (whether it's bondage porn or mcdonald's or michael bolton doesn't matter). yet, that's not really owning up to your desires, is it? blogging, however realistically you present yourself, is still a separate world from the one we see as real (mostly subconsciously since most bloggers will tell you they see this world as real). reality is based on the interactions we have with other people, how we are perceived, how we perceive others, and what colour our sweater is- happening in the present-tense and something we have very little control over. but the online world happens much more slowly than real life and allows us to have a lot more control over all of the above. there's lags, delays, time zones, moderating, censoring, everything to worry about we don't consider much when we're having beers with some buddies.

being alone in my bedroom is the same sorta thing (even with a computer and an internet connection): a choice to be free of all of those interactions that, in our minds, tell us that what is happening is real. letting the argument of what it means to be real rest for the sake of this idea, what's the difference between these states of existence? and why do people want others to know about their taboo desires, but really not want other people to know at all?

but getting back to the first point, there are many things that turn me on in fantasy that i would not ever find arousing in the real. it's the same thing with people who find yngwie malmsteen technically orgasmic but realistically repulsive- i just haven't been able to pinpoint why.

to me, there doesn't seem to be a difference between someone's individual parts and their whole. well the obvious answer would be that it's generalities vs. specifics- which is a good argument, except for one thing: one cannot exist without the other so they cannot battle to the death since they can't really exist completely independently of one another (unlike luke and darth who could, and did).

which leads to my next question: what is so arousing about the parts of ourselves that we seemingly hate? it's an inner conflict that seems to exist for no other reason than to please other people's ideas of what should be liked and what shouldn't. people love those who hate their whole but love their parts- even if it's a bit of a paradox in my mind. it all plays into the self-deprecating humour that's everywhere, and i'll admit i really like and play into sometimes. it just seems that through and through we love to hate ourselves- even if we claim the opposite by liking this or that about ourselves, it's just not as much fun to actually love everything yourself- it's egotistical, apparently, and unhealthy.

when that link between fantasy and reality is nonexistent, we call it psychosis, but should we? another paradox created between the idea of perfection and the necessity of "controlled schizophrenia" to maintain it...

those graveyard pics are from HERE, i forgot to link last time.

last night's art thingy was a success. a nice laid back event whereby i drank beer, watched my friends play, and tried to talk to everyone without seeming like a schmoozy dick. hopefully success was achieved there, but if not, what can ya do? ended up at lisa's b/f's place for some cartoons afterwards, but only lasted through one ep. of south park then three of us took off in haste to find a bed-like accomodation. we were all falling asleep. walked over to queen/spadina with lisa's friend jay since i had to get some cash, then zippy zip down to the ol' crash pad.

drove home from my brother's couch this morning around 9 'cause i got antsy. what a great night. it felt so good to have my stuff up on the walls somewhere other than home or flickr, and to have everyone there, even for a short bit, to check'em out and support me. there'll be more, i just have to find places to hang them. friends are like flowers!

feeling hangover moody today, but sjm invited me over for beer/pizza hockey party so i'm planning on that. gonna skip UFC night since i hung with my bro and other bro (from another mo') last night. and tomorrow for easter lunch.

you reek, uhhhh...

perhaps i should just be more patient? move out still, but you know, in general...

st. thomas, on.

M.E. told me the "legend of the witch's grave" from st. thomas, ontario when we drove there a couple weekends ago. it was a restless sunday, so we hopped in her car and drove around the london area for a few hours. she showed me her old haunts in aylmer, sparta- a large quaker settlement, port stanley on lake erie (where we plan to go back in the summer for beachness, beerness, and ice cream. then we ended up in st. thomas to see a "surprise"... as she called it.

she recalled the location after a couple zips around town, and we came upon it- a 17th century graveyard. within were white stones with corroded writing, some were completely illegible from years of fighting a losing battle with the elements. a sight to see, for sure. among all of the once-white gravestones, there is one tall, slim, black stone. surrounding it are four black iron posts that connect by a chain to form a secluded courtyard for this particular site, the legend, as it was told to me, is that the preacher's wife who is inscribed to have been buried here was witch. apparently the stone was once white as snow, but then was struck with some fierce lightning and turned black (the colour of ev0l).

it is said that if you stand between all four posts, at midnight during a full moon, you will be cursed. she told me they would hang out there, stoned and paranoid, as teenagers. can you imagine being stoned in a place like this, at midnight, on the edge of a steep hill? do you want to?

she's a real beaut'!

my newest toy, and a great deal! i am uploading from it right now.

hi i'm sixteen years old.

i just have absolutely no patience left tonight. nit nit nit, pick pick pick pick pick. my parents don't even realize they do it, so i have brought it to their attention nicely a number of times, but they still can't manage to think for a second before picking at me or nagging about how i'm doing something differently than they might. or point out my greasy hair. or tell me to do stuff i was just about to do. ARGH!!!

this is why most sane people move out before they hit breaking point. perhaps it is because i know having my own place is on the horizon that the last few weeks have been almost unbearable- but then again, maybe they've gotten worse. at least when i'm gone they will have to get their OWN glass of water from the kitchen, or fill their own plate with food or what the fuck ever... i'm just out of anything resembling patience. tonight, i am irritable and it's best that i be in my room as i am with the door closed watching 30rock.

i can't believe i lasted this long. they're good people and they treat me well and all that, but holy fuck i am 24 going on 25 and i don't need any more parenting! i know how to remove pizza from the oven! i know how to do stuff in the kitchen without mom watching every move i make!

okay i have to stop and go chill my blood pressure is rising thinking about it, heh.

i think it's time for a looooong bath, some reading, and fat j later.

ahhhhhhhhhh..........

thank vishnu for christianity.

without the good christian people tomorrow would be a regular work day. four day weekend bodes well for beer consumption and sleep occurrences.

in other news: i haven't had much to say lately. or writer's block. or just maybe a lot of stuff i don't want to say, but keep in my slowly-deteriorating journal called my brain. i wonder if the rate of deterioration of paper is higher or lower than that of grey matter? though the environment of your skull doesn't change too much, where paper might be subject to many different and varying (possibly corrosive) circumstances.

hmm.

yesterday i went for sushi-lunch with my brother at this place near both of our scarlem workplaces. they make the nigiri sushi with very small beds of rice, so you're not eating a bucket every single time you go there. the only thing i forgot was that they prepare the spicy salmon roll differently than most other places. instead of some hot mayo, cucumber, and salmon, they take the smaller pieces of salmon and blend it making a paste-like spicy substance which they then roll inside the nori and rice, etc. it's not that good. even though the spicy is spicy, and the salmon is salmony, it's a little too mushy. they need to throw some tempura batter in there or something, or cucumber- spice it up.

well, that was boring.

tomorrow is the big opening thing which is really a night of music and drinking while my photos (which are already on the walls) hang there silently emitting awesome waves.

yeah, i got nothin'.

convenience store.

zanta needs you!

like, totally.

HERE

who the fuck is mick jagger?

where in the world is carmen sandiego?

newsflash.

i would just like to inform everyone that the peanut cookie thinsations are delicious. buy them. they taste like real peanut cookies, even, and you can eat the whole bag.

that is all.

oh, internet. immediate discreditation when you post a comment as anonymous- even if that comment was profound and answered that stupid, fucking hippie's question about life and the meaning of and bla bla.

GAY.

i was preparing for bed, trying desperately to keep this pursuit on the backburner, but failing for just a couple moments... and then i saw this. how can i sleep now?

EEP!

as homer awakes from his beer-in-the=paint-shaker-induced coma...

the deepest secrets
should never become words
actions beget what?

out of the corner of my eye i swear i see movement, but maybe the extra-perceptive peripheral vision just creates movement where there is none. maybe ghosts are in our heads... in fact i think it's less maybe and more probably and more absolutely.

what a long weekend it was. stress brought on by late photos from the printer brought on a migraine that brought on me missing a good night out for a raymi's b-day, but i guess it was for the best. hanging photographs at noon on a sunday, traipsing through the rain in search of a doorway isn't something i would have wished to do while also hungover. and boy, it's been a while since i had at the fun nights out... on friday i will try to contain myself but all signs point to YES YES YES! and possibly no, but mostly yes.

i'm having a good hair day. that always happens when nobody's looking.

there's nose spray and generic vick's rub on my desk and a best of depeched mode cd i just put on my ipod... and wow, that sentenced sounded like i was trying to be cool except it was an afterthought, a thought after the fact, something i did not plan, though now may start to seem contrived because of how much i am talking about it.

king of the hill's on again, earlier it was the one with zz top and their neck beards that consume television screens. and those were the animated ones! i rented the matador and sin city on friday, but finally mom watched the matador with me tonight. she liked it as i thought she would... sin city i watched after everyone was in bed and my lungs filled with smoke and i sat there, on the living room floor, watching mickey rourke repeat the only part he's ever played. but oh so good.

and here i am, now, locked away in my panic room writing to you pretending that movement over there isn't standing right behind me waiting for me to stop typing... so it can...

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