suckin rock and roll

2008-06-03T15:46:00.000-04:00

2008-06-03T14:43:00.004-04:00

I have to say...

I know little things make me happy and excited and content. The little extra button they give you with your quality 100% cotton button down shirt, a new song that makes you pull into the driveway but sit and wait until it's finished (Billy Bragg New England is this weeks) cooking a turkey with a little poppy bobber thing that works and pops at the total right time, drinking beer with friends, drinking wine with friends, drinking enough that you can talk fast and quick and witty but not too much that you can't drive home, finding $20 in the dryer, green tea that isn't too sugary, Annie in the rain, the puppies run run running, meeting a new guy, liking new guy, and that weird 2-3 month phase where everything is right and laying together saturday morning talking about the US foreign policy feels so right, so right, and believing for a few days, few weeks, that you could be with this guy for a while, discovering a new author and the books that go along with it, discovering new books by an old author, a new haircut, clean socks, sheets that smell like my grandma washed them, my mom's rhubarb pie, being alone, knowing you're being alone, being happy you know you're alone and you're alone, doing what you want, not having to answer to someone, not worrying, a new pen, watching a double play, writing something that even before you click save you know is good.

ANYWAY

The Roomba. I expressed interest in the Roomba months ago. It has finally arrived, courtesy of a friend who is able to get these kinds of things. you push a button, it motors aroung the house sucking up everything and anything. in particular, it's been suckin up the dog hair, so much of which i can't believe either of them don't look like moby. It motors around, making this weird, way louder sound than you'd think, and it's just so cute and loveable...i've named him Frankie. As an aside, it says right on the box that Frankie and family were created to sniff out and destroy landmines, which given my penchant for meeting and keeping very strange men around far longer than should be necessary...is probably a HUGE diplomatic plus.

ANYWAY

Watching the dogs meet Frankie is the funniest thing I've seen in a long time.

It's made a rather drab day, week, month, life? pretty freakin bright. And that is why my sarah's personal campaign for hermitude with the exception of the dogs because apparently they are the only things that can stand/love me...is back.

Get your button of support today. :)

www.irobot.com

2008-04-17T09:52:00.003-04:00

ok.

well, sigh, sigh, sigh.

things are busy. and so busy that sarah you freakin idiot have made myself so overtired and underalcoholed that now i have the wicked type of head cold that you take double the dose of day quil and apart from making you feel a bit kite flyey, doesn't even freakin touch you. so. yeah.

we'll start at the beginning which is a very good place to start.

went to the uk, saw tricia and weird b/f. yeah. he's off. like cash is off. just a little off y'know? had fun, over to ireland where i walked the ulysses walk and visited the joyce centre which like most things in ireland apart from government run national museums sits in a little house with two stories and is filled with, essentially nothing beyond a mask of his death face and the door to 7 eccles st. when the university student in her very attractive dublin speech tried to impart on me what 7 eccles st. meant i gave her my best 'you gotta be kidding me face' and she said, 'welp apart from bloomsday we only get one or two foreigners every few months that aren't just here cause it was in the lonely planet book.' ANYWAY half of eccles st. was knocked down for a condo or something including 7 but some joyce crazies kept it in a bar on the north side for like 20 years and when the joyce centre opened brought it to them. here's the thing that struck me, the entire city is literary. i mean there are plaques at each and every dublin pub, howth castle, butcher etc. that joyce mentions in ulysses commemorating it and quoting the passage it is from. at the top of the guinness brewery, there are joyce quotes surrounding the look out over dublin. there's a statue of joyce, parnell (not literary but cool), wilde, yeats etc. and all these writers are commemorated all over, from the dublin castle to their favourite pubs. very cool. and they didn't say THAT in lonely planet. then to limerick on a train bus bus bus bus train but it was worth it and beautiful.

so we stay in a hotel a little out of the city BUT there's a pub and at the pub are regulars and we all get there and tricia and off b/f go up for a nap and i go down for a drink because i understand jet lag and sleeping is not the answer. i come back out to meet tricia and off b/f we go back into the bar and the entire bar turns and says "heeeeeeey she's back" and i just thought gob would like that story because for reasons beyond me and perhaps beyond her drunk people REALLY like me.

um, then back to the UK where we did little in a day, but wandered through the tube and picadilly and such.

and now i'm back and working my ass off and sick and out to a conference in san diego next week which will be nice because a lot of the team and husbands are coming and i'm bringing new car guy who's too nice to me and frankly scaring me a little. like i'm waiting for him to throw my keys into the bushes and call the cops or throw a kettle at me. neither have occured. and that is so easy and refreshing and nice and lovely. and i think it's been a very long time since there's been someone normal who doesn't have any immediate weirdities and isn't trying to gain anything and is just kinda there. and sometime all you wanna do is be sure someone is there, and of that one thing i am sure, and also sure i like it.

oh and i'm buying an invisible fence for the dogs so i can just kinda let them out and awaiting big sister gob's comments on that.

when she bought a bark collar for her dog, tracy tried it on her own neck and has commented that i should do the same. i might on my wrist but don't know if i can do the neck thing.

and that's all the time i have today.

the next one will be better. i promise.

2008-04-13T12:39:00.000-04:00

2008-04-05T08:52:00.003-04:00

off to ireland...

back to the homeland and all that stuff.

And Patricia booked the 'cruise' to limerick...i have a funny feeling it might look like this:

2008-04-05T08:52:00.001-04:00

this kinda freaks me out frankly...

2008-03-26T23:38:00.001-04:00

And before I left I thought
about waking you
sleep filled and downed
your breath one and laid between
nestled between
my own

I thought
maybe I should stay here
tonight (forever)?
maybe it’s good here

but if you think
you’re the only one
with black dogs
demons and
those before
you’re not alone.

they follow me too

I promise.

and there’s nothing about this
whatever this is
you and I or us
two beings floating
guts streaming and scared
shitless

and the insane perpetual manner
in which I am falling
into
you and I or us

that will be easy

(but maybe
so much easier
than before?)

this is just
you or I or us
and I am just

trying to fall
as hard
(hurt)
less
as possible

and yet
when you look
at me
eyes deep blue pools

I can’t help but think
this is all
you and I or us
there ever was
to be.

2008-03-17T20:08:00.004-04:00

i'm alive

2008-03-05T10:35:00.000-05:00

2008-02-25T11:10:00.001-05:00

2008-02-22T11:00:00.005-05:00

how does it start.
it starts like this.

you go to visit someone, could be anyone, could be a random party that someone who knows someone who knows you or a stupid freakin hallowe'en party in which grown adults dress up like random whorish somebodies because tonight is the night where it's acceptable or it could be your friend who jumps from one guy to the next but never has anyone on valentine's day and so every valentine's day throws a valentine's day sucks party and invites you because she correctly believes you agree, valentines day does suck, and you go every year because although you often do have a guy you couldn't care less about this day out of all the days and holidays and made up nothingness all in all it is a complete and random start of a complete and random trip down the getting to know someone well enough to stop by randomly and this time it happens fairly randomly but not without some pre-meditation on the part of the surprise friend who's walked into you and stayed, enough so if it were a crime she would be guilt guilt guilty. so you go and meet everyone after saying you'd never do this again, after writing it off, after being happy at home with the dogs running under your feet and having your couple heinekens and going to bed holding a pillow in one arm and a puggle in the other, you throw the comfort, the write offs, and put on your gap jeans and low-ish cut shirt and go out and feast your eyes on the quiet relatively good looking guy in the corner and start doing your thing where you get that look on your face as you're going in for the kill kill for the killer kiss kiss and you two hit it off because you always hit it off and he's quiet and normal and has a house and it's clean and and and he cooks and his kid knows your sister and they talk and you start taking the short drive to his house for a beer once in a while, and he always hugs hello and hugs goodbye and says your name with a glitter of the mouth and he invites you over and you invite him over, and everything's good again and you kinda have someone again and you're learning and watching and talking and figuring him out and scared as shit that once you figure him out he'll annoy you and why this pattern? and in back of your mind you know this isn't a forever thing might even be a lonely thing might even be a tired of everyone else thing and then you open up and then you let people walk into you and then your friends stop by on their way home or to work or out and you sit, beer in one hand, smoke filled kitchen, puggle runs and stories and stories and laughing and teasing and suddenly you've opened yourself up to a town you hate(d) more than anything and you have a community of people who stop by, a community of surroundedness, a community(!) and from this community from all the stop bys and all the parties, lame as they are, all the mundane and utterly unintellectual conversations you stop by one night for a beer and have the single best kiss you've ever been given in your entire life and when you look at him in shock and ease and mutter 'you've got a mouth on you' and he smiles and leans in for the killer kiss kiss you think the move, the loneliness, the town you fuckin hate(d), is all

worth it.

2008-02-19T09:52:00.001-05:00

2008-02-19T09:50:00.001-05:00

“Just remember, the same as a spectacular Vogue magazine, remember that no matter how close you follow the jumps: Continued on page whatever. No matter how careful you are, there's going to be the sense you missed something, the collapsed feeling under your skin that you didn't experience it all. There's that fallen heart feeling that you rushed right through the moments where you should've been paying attention. Well, get used to that feeling. That's how your whole life will feel some day. This is all practice. None of this matters. We're just warming up.” chuck palahniuk...

2008-02-13T08:17:00.000-05:00

It's too cold to write anything dammit.

2008-02-13T08:16:00.000-05:00

WHOAH

2008-02-05T11:19:00.000-05:00

2008-02-04T16:22:00.000-05:00

2008-01-30T09:22:00.000-05:00

My Backyard...erg...

2008-01-30T08:19:00.000-05:00

2008-01-30T08:18:00.001-05:00

2008-01-30T08:00:00.000-05:00

when my mother and father FINALLY came to see the house and kinda sat with me all awkward, my dad telling me to move the thermostat, and pulling up floor vents to look at the furness while my mother wandered through books and took an armful with her, and annie sat playing with the dogs, my father peered out the front window and said, 'oh you're really close to the lake, you know the water's gonna come up to your front yard eh?' to which i responded, 'i don't think so, it's been ok so far' the lake was quickly frozen this week, and this morning i woke around 4am to the sound of doors opening and closing. when i wandered downstairs the water was amazingly insane. it is literally up my front yard, and bulbous? (is that a word? i'm thinking jello and oil being whizzed around a tuperware container) it's just freaky and amazing crashing up onto my front lawn, the ice gone, and random weird shit floating by. and it's beyond windy, i took the dogs out and almost fell over walking them.

and this area is sooooooooo weird. apart from american bob next door and gay gay david a few down with the dalmations, there's no one. all the houses are pretty well boarded up, and this morning while struggling to walk the poor puppies, a cop car drives up and starts talking to me about the crazy weather and it's a cop so i have to talk and then i think that must suck, the only reason people talk back to cops is because they think they have to right?

and papa's been in and out of the hospital for weeks and everything's great, and he goes home, then he's back in and dying, then everything's great and he's going home, then he has a 'rough night' and it's just....siggghhhhh. i love watching his hands. i don't know what else to say beyond that, except that it sucks.

after my grandmother died, he was depressed and didn't leave the house for like 3 years. then he met jackie, his little gnome girlfriend and now he pratically lives there, they travel like crazy and are just so happy and in some ways it just doesn't seem fair or right for him to go now. it's weird but it's almost like he NOW has so much to do, so much i want him to do. which is probably a weird thing to think or say about a 74 year old man. i was talking to my uncle about papa and jackie in one of my more bitter moments and i said to him, and his wife, my aunt who's goofy and pessimistic and in defense of my grandfather a little i said that there are few people that find love like that EVER nevermind twice.

maybe that's it.

2008-01-23T10:58:00.001-05:00

2008-01-22T12:51:00.000-05:00

so

i've finished off two of the three curriculums for thursday, of which i am presenting most of. i am assured that writing curriculums pays good money but equally assured that they severly hurt my head in the same way that talking to drunk construction workers at fort erie bars hurt my head.

i've been listening to the nattering of cbc radio because that is my idea of a productive workspace. i was explaining to someone the other day that sometimes when i'm doing something really boring the only place i can possibly do it productively is at my bar. and there is no real reason for that except that everything going on in my brain is so freakin chaotic that in order to become settled up there i need chaos somewhere around me in which my brain can tap into subconsciously. so i put on cbc radio. and they natter and mutter and tell the same news story like 80 times an hour. sounds like canada has this thing on canada's ultimate commuter and i wrote in a said that my commute takes approximately 45 seconds to walk from upstairs to my office. i thought that was quite witty. in retrospect probably smart ass. i will never understand the difference between wit and smart ass. then they started mumbling about overfishing in freakin denmark or something and that gave me a rash so i had to turn it off and now all i hear is the wind wind wind opening and closing my front door.

and i'm feeling lonely in a weird way. it's that weird loneliness i always feel when i travel or when i'm just back from travelling, although 8 hours in another province i THOUGHT wouldn't constitute "travelling" but it did...when the houseguest is gone i feel great running around arms flung in solitude and then crumpled in anticipation of someone coming back so i can talk. to someone. in someways this whole work at home thing and the fact that i'm pretty geographically isolated is bringin back weird china feelings which inevitably ends up with me sleeping with someone i absolutely had no intention of.

in other news. the puggles have FINALLY settled down and are napping pretty well through the storm. which is what puggles are supposed to do. beware wretchedone...two dogs are fun, but they're BAD together, and it takes them a long time to re-adjust to new places, new things, new people, and each other in the new places, new things etc. etc. like molly will want to sleep, cash will nudge nudge ear bite...it goes on ALL DAY until molly gets mad and bites back blah blah...this has gone on since i moved in here, but TODAY TODAY they're back to being good puggles. I will say, without rambling forever, during the move, i inadvertently changed their food, cash shed like a....i don't even have a simile for it? ummmmm...god i don't know...until he had little bald spots in his fur, with dark tear stains, molly looked like she weighed 10 pounds heavier, and they both ran around like kids at the mcdonalds playplace after the carbs and sugar and refreshing ability to eat with their shoes off in PUBLIC...i've changed them BACK and they're calm, not balding little puppies. so, don't buy puppy chow.

beware wretchedone of the unforeseen amount of food ONE MORE DOG costs you.

2008-01-22T09:15:00.001-05:00

it's snowing so hard that i can't see the lake.

all the new people start today and have called all freaky because they're ALL stuck in traffic. i'm fly to montreal at 9am, sit in meetings all day, fly home at 5pm, and drive home from toronto through the snow, hung over this morning.

i hate snow.

2008-01-22T09:13:00.001-05:00

2008-01-20T16:58:00.001-05:00

OH!

Just gotta say...

When I was in Britain I LIVED off this stuff and LOVED IT...

As well the banana bread beer...

Why would someone go to a beer tasting event and NOT invite me? The queen of beer?

HMMMMPRH.

2008-01-18T11:02:00.002-05:00

the waves are crashing up on my front lawn. the noise is generally calming but today is just making me antsy. friday ants. the little sister is coming to stay with me for the weekend. the amount of dog hair all over eludes me. my knuckles are red and cracking. i want to have apple trees.

two days ago, the dogs run away. i go outside. i can see two tails poking out of the side of my neighbours house. he has two guys working on some sort of weird doesn't go with the rest of the house frame and the dogs have decided not only that they are the mascots for the entire process, but that they too should be climbing ladders. they sit intently and watch the two of them work, one guy gets down off the ladder, scruffs Cash's head as he walks by, and I stand and watch, and think a little of my Dad who was always one of those guys, hardworking, the type of guy that would put down whatever tool his working man hands are grasping to climb down off a ladder and talk to a dog, and yet neither of them say a word to me.

so then, the dogs run, and the mysterious next door neighbour who i've never ever seen, but who's Escalade windows are ALWAYS open (ummm it's the middle of January? that's weird) is then playing with dogs, looks up at, it's early, i've just gotten up, and says

"Hey. Come here"

And I'm thinking, Jesus he's gonna tell me the dogs have shit on his lawn, or Molly's squeky noises wake him up or something, but nope, he's worried about Molly and the coyotes...and then says,

"I was watching you"

To which I said...

"Ohhhh?"

To which he said...

"No! Not like that. Well...a little bit like that"

And what I want to reflect on is the following:

1. I am 27 years old. What happens to men when they turn 40 that they suddenly look at me and think "Hey, I could hit that?" And this guy's like late 50's. I don't know a guy with that type of confidence in their like 20's or 30's (clearly). It's beyond me and frankly makes them look a little foolish. And I don't suffer fools kindly. Y'know.

2. To his credit, I love Americans. Who else can say "Hey COME HERE" to their neighbour. And this is why a lot of people DON'T like Americans, it's that kinda semantic loudness and frankness that makes people what? offended? Anyway I like it.

3. Why do his workers talk to my dogs but not me?

It's Friday.

These are the best I can do today.

Men are utterly beyond me.

2008-01-18T11:02:00.001-05:00

2008-01-14T11:32:00.000-05:00

Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.
Leonard Cohen

always...i mean i always thought of poetry as something i wrote or was or did or read but rarely something tangible, a verb, something that happened, never was anything 'poetic', rarely was anything any one thing, any one moment, movement in time poetic...

but as i spend saturday afternoon dylan seeping out of speakers and into the kitchen, kneading dough and spreading cinnamon, the smell of fresh baked cookies and re-heated chilli, the puppies running around my feet making puppy feet noises on the floor and puppy chasing noises in the air, and the waves crashed and the house was warm and toasty and new and me and alone i cooked and baked and prepared for what? for it for being there for me...

and one split second when i glanced out the beach bay window and saw some sort of buoy float up and smash into the rocks, then back out again, then smash up again, and thinking hoping that the poor little thing would make it's florescent belly to the shore, i thought for a split second,

this is poetry.

2008-01-08T15:42:00.000-05:00

2008-01-08T12:03:00.000-05:00

It is not until love is lost, that you begin to think in love language, in love speak.

Almost without meaning, plastered on Valentine’s Day paraphernalia, greeting cards, futile pop songs, I love New York…did she love him more than New York? Really?
At what point does a word, does a phrase lose all meaning and become merely a word you say at the appropriate time? Not knowing if you should wait for the other person to say it, or take a chance and say it first. Becoming infatuated with the three word eight letter phrase. Measured in cuts and losses, loves lost, loves gained. It becomes a transaction, an expectation. It becomes a word without meaning, a modus operandi. A mere signifier. The decorous arrangement of differential elements, the messy dialectics of being in love. A massive hug endured from someone you hardly know, while you gasp and struggle over their shoulder.

Once love is gone in a way impossible to reclaim, your thoughts are consumed with love speak. You see teenagers on buses holding hands and groping, new parents in the grocery store buying remarkable amounts of baby wipes in convenient take as you go packages, old people holding hands, middle aged couples, tired of each other and comfortable, university kids in coffee shops, intensely delving into Derrida, ten year olds stealing untested pecks on the cheek, none of these make you cynical, sneering, or mocking; none of these force your ocular displeasure the other way; none of these displays of love are significant. You no longer desire to be like that, no longer yearn for that style of love. Instead, you take short reflective glances with a slight smirk, your thoughts filled with semi-sentimental language licks, and you go back fleetingly to your book about a lonely, disengaged writer, or the completion of a grocery list containing ingredients necessary to keep one adult, and two dogs alive, because that is what there is. Because that is all there ever is. Because that is.

Because if the word means nothing, then nothing is ever lost, is it?

2008-01-03T15:29:00.001-05:00

And this is stolen from wretchedwant but is the funniest thing I've seen forever. When the guys ass comes out and he starts smashing the stove...I don't know why, I was crying it was so funny...

2008-01-03T15:18:00.000-05:00

Wretchedwant has accussed moi of hitting bars and making roomfuls of friends.

This I tell you is not entirely true.

Although, the curse of being a happy happy loud drunk is that quite often I wake up in the morning with about 18 sms's from people I ummmmm don't quite remember giving my number to (READ Viking) annnnnnnnd then these 18 people hang around for about 3 weeks, obsessively because I am supposedly SO FUN and wacky and then after week 3 of watching me walk my dogs, organize my Auster titles alphabetically and by degree of self loathing, buy insane amounts of 100% fruit juice, and lay morosely on the couch reading insane amount of Sarah Waters books, they do something I term "fuckin insane" and don't go away until I tell them to.

On New Years I was the designated driver, as a good way to begin the not drinking so much 2008 which has been surprisingly easy given the new house which is a whole other story. ANYWAY and I just didn't feel like drinking so it was good and after 4 glasses of coke (who knew?) I was just as hyper, shooting off confetti at midnight and making people visibly uncomfortable with my sweet dance moves as I am when I drink.

I don't know what the point of that slight digression was...

But, I do feel a bit guilty about the locked in syndrome remark, although I can see it being quite witty and wretchedwant doing that cute little head down laugh with the little clasping of hands that she does when I say something completely insane, irrelevant or just rude to the big guy at the end of the bar I just met...but I feel equally as guilty for taking her out to find "her bar" and probably leaving with 2 other my bars.

However, you do have Viking, who is a lot of fun and did say we're both trips and fuck the guy's name's VIKING and he slid us into Hutch's as fast as I was sliding beers off the bar.

In other news, the house freakin ROCKS god I love it, the dogs love, I can cook, I clean, I wander, turn the thermostat up, turn it down, run upstairs, run down...

I bought a case of beer and it's in my FRIDGE.

I bought stir fry stuff and can make enough for leftovers.

I love my fridge.

I love that I can pick to shower upstairs or down.

2008 is gonna freakin ROCK.

I hope.

Cross eyed and finger tied.

2007-12-29T09:07:00.001-05:00

Moving day tomorrow. I don't know WHY I do this, but I did it again...waited on a truck that was supposed to be borrowed, but now isn't, so I'm wandering around Saturday morning trying to find a UHaul anywhere in Mississauga and attempting to negotiate how to get my car up there to pick up the truck without having to get a ride back up there to pick up my car after I drive the truck down (does that make sense?). And because I have no friends, and any I do and was counting on have gone AWOL, I have to pack pretty much everything tonight (apart from some books and such I did last week) and have it ready for when my one sole (soul?) friend the bartender comes up and we load up the truck and drive to Fort Erie BACK.

It a bit like looking for France this morning.

2007-12-27T12:07:00.000-05:00

maybe all i ever learned of love
was how to shoot someone
who out drew you.

leonard cohen

2007-12-26T09:57:00.001-05:00

Christmas crept like it always does and then...poof! gone.

Merry Christmas to meeeeeeeeeeeee...

2007-12-21T07:32:00.000-05:00

The BBC want to censor Fairytale of New York this year...

Why? Honestly? WTF? It's been fine for like years, and it was I thought the BBC that voted it the Best Christmas Song ever (I could be wrong)...suddenly, the televised world can't handle the word slut?

2007-12-20T12:27:00.001-05:00

Gore Wins Oscar, Nobel Peace Prize For Slide-Show Presentation

2007-12-20T09:06:00.000-05:00

Horoscope: You worked your ass off in 2007. Am I right, my fellow Cancerian? In fact, you threw yourself into your hard labors with so much dutiful fervor that you sometimes lost sight of the fact that they were mostly just preparation for bigger and better assignments. Luckily for you, I'm here to snap you out of your amnesia. Please begin immediately to formulate a vision of how you will make the transition to those bigger and better assignments.

Thank God.

Annie's going to a new school in January. My Mother and Father are going to the very private, very pretentious school in the Falls that GOB was considering sending the boys to, in order to enroll her.

I am worried about her transition wise but at the same time happy happy and god I hope she starts to excel SOMEWHERE.

Be well little bear...

2007-12-19T10:47:00.001-05:00

December slush filled
thoughts I thought
about staying
up here
with you
a loft of our past
after promising I’d
never do that again
after promising
we should never
do that again
and just be happy with
the us now
but every once in a while
after going to bed
leaving the lights on
moving through the walls
there’s a shadow in the mirror
and I know it’s you
it’s time to go home
to get things done,
get things right,
I fuck up
always do
buried in the words
about us and you
and when Christmas
comes I’ll lay my head
resting in shame
watching seasons change
and I’ll think of you
and while I swim
through time alone
you will cross my mind
shadows tossed over
the alarm clock
rain down my back
your laugh lines
in my mind
and we will
build walls leading
back to each other
come home with me
and I will promise
not to
leave you
again

2007-12-19T09:12:00.000-05:00

so the airplane cold turned into an airplane flu, and i was knocked out in bed all day yesterday which is weird because i just had this kinda flu thing, and the weird thing is both times i had a little to drink the night before...not a lot, certainly not enough to be THAT sick with, but now i'm worried.

my father can't drink. deathly allergic to it, makes him hideously sick the next day. and i'm thinking, and i've thought this before that it's quite possible it's making me sick too now. which is upsetting.

so amidst the emails from my mother asking me if there is blood in my vomit, if i have right upper quadrent pain, if my back hurts and if so where? it has been concluded that i have an ulcer which if you didn't know also explains my 'chronic cough' as my mother calls it. so being the BMH she is, she's placed me on a no alcohol, white food, diet with a little pill every like 3 hours in an attempt to re-line my stomach or whatever from the ulcer that BMH probably freakin gave me.

and everything is so weird.

i'm moving january 1st. it's surreal. it's such a nice place and i am so very very excited and can't wait to get in but i HATE moving and i HATE moving alone i'm always moving ALONE and i HATE IT. gonna grab some boxes today ish and start packing books etc. tricia and hip attachment are moving the end of the month to britain. gob's x is apparently moving up here. it's just so WEIRD everyone's movement and moving and i'm kinda sitting here with all my own shit to do telling people what kind of currency they have there, what the neighbourhoods in toronto are named, what grocery stores to go to, and what neighbourhoods to stay away from while everyone else shoots off emails to me, long and indecisive, and worried, which should in turn make me anxious and crazy but in fact is making me very calm while i enjoy a plate of rice and bread and drink my herbal tea.

molly and cash are like best friends now. it's so cute. but molly has this stupid little sponge ball that she somehow and honestly, i don't know why or how throws with her paws under the couch incessantly. then she lays on her side, and gets her head almost all the way under the couch kinda whining, the cash comes and tries...then i get down on the floor and they both get so excited they jump on my head and lick me and on and on and on it goes all morning. they're so weird and will so very very much enjoy a HOUSE. A HOUSE! WHOAH.

and i guess that's all the news.

my head hurts.

2007-12-17T08:50:00.001-05:00

i don't know why or if it is right for this to crack me up. i think it's the serious and numerously stated "rogue elf" that makes that weird little snorty laugh to erupt.

the even funnier part is the moron canadian, who frankly, in his little picture doesn't look purebred, connects this as an utter and completely logical and apparently obvious correlation to the canadian immigration policy. what, immigrants don't like santa?

2007-12-17T07:07:00.000-05:00

horoscope
Are your cohorts looking at you quizzically, wondering why you seem so energized from exploring the shadowy, off-limits places? I'll offer some suggestions about what you could say to them. First, try to make them see that until you've risked going too far, you may not know when to stop. Second, tell them that you suspect there are healthy desires buried at the roots of your dark feelings, and you're hoping to free them. Third, explain to them that you're not picking at your scabs in order to prolong your hurt, but rather to better understand the hurt. If those rationales are too subtle for your companions to understand, cackle softly and say that you just need to be a little bad in order to give your goodness more soul.

for reasons unknown to me, all i can think is beastiality...and since i'm really without cohorts ummmmm...yeah...

back from the bahamas with braids in my hair and a slight winter sunburn.

the crawl last night from the airport through the snow in my summer khakis and sneakers was insane. the vacation was a nice break but i am happy to be back. i got the house and will post a picture a bit later. but it freaking ROCKS. and of course i have the airplane cold, that is really just plugged ears and a snotty head...

my puppies are in fort erie so i need to suffer through the cold stuff to get them. poor little things...

christmas is beyond me right now. sigh.

2007-12-13T10:04:00.000-05:00

so i'm in the bahamas.

and although i should probably take the huge RANT that was quite possible unneccessary down i am not going to, keeping it as proof that i do get pissed off, that people do annoy the fuck out of me and eventually i snap. that was a snap. the cyber equivelant of punching the wall and going to bed with bleeding knuckles that take weeks to heal (i'm still scraping the scabs off the ones from the last SNAP). People ask why i don't write, why i don't get published blah blah blah...it just pisses me off SO MUCH when someone reads something and then goes on this HUGE thing written with entire subconscious idea that they absolutely understand and know what it is about. god is pisses me off. and i don't know why. it's like GOB'S suck stick...there's a fine line, there's a fine line between obscurity and ability to understand something someone's written, but y'know maybe they are all just too obscure for anyone to get. and goddamn i'm tired of being a walking pussy. jesus. it's like in 8mile when he's like "you're saying the same shit that he said" everyone just says the same SHIT TO ME...i wish i was enjoying someone else's company as much as everyone says i am.

anyway...

it's warm here and nice, the boys are gorgeous and speak sweetly with odd little accents somewhere between jamaica and the east side of b-lo. it's unlike anywhere i've ever been with parallels to thailand a bit but it ends somewhere between the fresh coconut and lack of friendly service.

tricia and i found the library. we're gonna swim with sharks, eat pineapple, and nestle with our books and a couple of pina colodas on the beach.

i'm telling no one when i'm back or where i'm moving to (again except gob, cause i like you).

and i will continue walking home alone
until there's someone
that will slip arm between mine
and quietly lead me along,
without saying
a word.

it's a good thing i'm not drinking...

2007-12-12T00:40:00.000-05:00

i have to catch a plane in like seven hours. i've not packed. i'm tired. i drove home today. and this is probably going to seem like a weird drunken rant buuuut i just feel i might actually sleep if i finish this...

i am so goddamn tired of people.

henceforth, i'm leaving. gone. poof. i am tired of the selfishness by individuals who have no fuckin idea what a fuckin metaphor is and immediately assume everything i write is about them or concerns them in some way. that poem was strangely about one of the only people who would FUCKIN understand it, and said individual has said NOTHING.

i did this monitoring, insanity, paranoia, obsession with who i see, what i FUCKIN WRITE...why, and immediate relation to themselves before...

i cannot believe close friends are doing the same thing.

please, delete your bookmarks and pretend i don't fuckin exist.

maybe i should make a different identity...anonymous...

i'm not writing in communist china here...if you don't understand a simile, metaphor, or fuckin ME go away...

the house thing is looking good, to be fuckin alone without any of this high school retardedness is so very very appealing.

and as a sign of my own personal stubbornness, newfound independence, and just WHATEVER i'm not fuckin taking that down. i love that fuckin piece, the rest of you think whatever the fuck you want to think because i don't fuckin care anymore.

i'm going to my cave, and won't be back.

goddamn i hate fuckin people.

(not you GOB...you're the only fuckin saving grace).

and i'll take this down tomorrow when i'm less fuckin pissed off.

i walked the fuck home fuckin alone.

hfduafhdougefuhrewoituewtpoersafdnmskfdxzNK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2007-12-11T14:20:00.001-05:00

2007-12-11T14:14:00.000-05:00

bubbling moët & chandon corks
over and under our previous
and accepted mindless fucks
of discourse
literature & poetry
your life & mine
tonight we ran
head first
you first
into sex & love
& people we both know
well & ontario skies
& sadness & isolation

finally i thought
maybe i’m letting someone into my lack
of misery and
accepted solitude

you had finally
given into
love
or the lack thereof
and i wondered
about the island
and how we ended up here

it crossed my mind
that i might wake up one day
without a breath left
in my hair
tossed up over
the bedframe
hiding a neatly written poem

it’s like waking
the morning after a nightmare
trying to figure out
this thing between you and i

hiding in the bedroom
you flip me a smile
and i promised not to leave
tight loveless arms
around me on the street
it’s all in my head
i bang into a mental poem
words subtitled in kanji
you whisper it will never happen
you whisper you’re terrified
you move hair from face
and whisper i’m beautiful
you move eyes from the ground
and whisper that we will go
that we will be ok
i tell you
you’ll be ok

and walked home alone.

2007-12-09T09:12:00.000-05:00

2007-12-06T18:07:00.001-05:00

well ya just never know
i thought to myself
3 days in winnipeg at 30 below
i walked the streets alone
utterly alone
too cold for anyone
even the homeless to be out
3 days in different hospitals
talking to different patients
with different things
a 60 year old with lung cancer
a 30 year old with ms
her two sons sat at her bedside and
did their homework
one with a carpentry textbook
the other guy surrounded by his family
going in for a triple bypass
and the old people
all the old people
who want to go home
but sleep there now
talking to someone who isn't there
never was there
about their plans for the weekend
dementia taking over
already taken
the mutters and mumblings
utter insane
the woman
my age
just back from chemo
hair gone in tuffs
her mother
and sister
sat and they talked
and laughed
her room covered with flowers
balloons
rubbing fruits & passion
her room
smelling of mangos and papaya
covering the smell
??
and i wander the streets alone
all i want is someone to tell me
to take my time
while they take my hand
and peer into a freeze frame
of my soul
so someone might know
what is means
someone might figure
my head out
before
my body out
who would leave things
in my room?

2007-11-28T16:06:00.000-05:00

hey
heard you say
you could use another drink
i dunno if another one will get
me through
this time
do you remember
that time?
we lived for a time
in a hotel
watching the time
stagger and unconscious
around us

hey
why don't you read another book?
as i lay dying is too depressing
for this time of year
leaves falling and snow
melting before it hits the ground
what am i without you?

hey
watch while i preserve you
even though it's clear i don't deserve
you
or anyone but me
really
there's some strange
danger
hurry up
lemme spray my face
real quick
with make-up
eye lined and bottom lined
the bottom line

hey
take some time and think
spin another line we can all pretend
we had a good time
remember that time?
someone let me ring their bell
we were living in that room
without windows
fuckin and fighting
someone else did the dishes
that time

hey
my memory
there's something
on my hands
laughter or blood
happy ever after
stringing up a heart
and letting is wring
from the rafters
what am i without
you?

2007-11-23T00:47:00.001-05:00

My nights...

Molly falls asleep first, and then, just Cash and I...Johnny Walker might have been a better name yeah? yeaaaaaaaah.

And I'm relatively obsessed with Amy Wineburg and the song "rehab" and everyone I share it with are like: Are you an alcoholic? And the first time in a long time I'M NOT this makes me wonder...

The little one is doing like stuff we didn't do until we were 17/18 and by we I mean Patricia by 17 and me...um, never cause I was perfect and sweet and completely academic...Really, seriously...I know I've made up for it and such but STILL...AND I'm in Winnipeg in December and do you KNOW HOW COLD WINNIPEG is in December? It's hideous! Why did I trade Shenzhen in for this? So if anyone is free for puppy duty let me know and I will make it worth your while...

Things are good.

And I'm not bored.

Also good.

I am TIRED.

And yet...

I'm still awake???

How is that FAIR??

2007-11-19T14:35:00.000-05:00

I PROMISE these are the last ones...

2007-11-19T14:28:00.000-05:00

2007-11-16T18:53:00.000-05:00

2007-11-15T09:11:00.000-05:00

So.

Long few days. 2.5 hours at the passport office, plus a skip the line pass to GO back today with some form properly signed. Purolator cannot, for reasons beyond me and 3 phone calls later, find my parents house which I must say is RIGHT OFF THE HIGHWAY. So I have to drive to freakin Niagara-on-the-lake and get a very important package that I need in order to drop a very important document off on Friday. Annie for 3 days...she's actually growing into some quirkiness and is very funny. In the midst of working on this lead management thing, and attempting to make it some sort of tangible felt board something something, Cash's old owner emails me and asks how he's doing.

And I, for all my ability or seemingly inability to write struggle with what to say.

First, I struggle with people who have the ability to give up a dog. Especially a really cute dog, (I mean c'mon, some of the dogs at the park, NOT CUTE not even close) but a really cute dog who's only 6 months old. When I went to get Cash, to the little house in Tonawanda, she said that he destroys everything, eats everything, is rough with the kids, always hungry blah blah blah, barks at everyone and everything...which freaked me out frankly.

He does still bark, but really, not as much. He is the MOST gentle dog I have ever ever seen in my entire life. Really. I can get Molly going well enough that she will inadvertently nip me, but not Cash. No matter what. Him and Molly play so well together, run so well together, just everything is so so easy. He has not destroyed anything. I did find him head first in a jar of peanut butter, and there was the regular butter incident, but y'know my fault for leaving it there.

So then I'm thinking, as I read all these Ceasar Milan books, and consciously assert calm assertiveness when around the dogs...that some people, really just shouldn't have dogs. I mean the poor thing lived in a back yard, which some might say well, you live in an apartment, atleast in the back yard he got to run around...I never understood what that does to a dog...but it makes them kinda anti-social and destructive and bored. Now, the 2 hour to hour and a half walks a day, and the all day runs around the ranch in Fort Erie, the dog SLEEPS when he's home, or chews on a pig ear for a bit.

And he's been hit and yelled at. You can tell. Why I don't know. He's just such a good freakin dog.

People come over, see me with the dogs, and the dogs with me and say that they are so lucky to have me, but I and I do understand this, am so lucky to have THEM. Both good good dogs.

But then I think that maybe, it's not really so much about the dogs as the owners. I never really thought this before, which is weird for an educator...I don't know if I believe there are "bad" dogs...I think they just kinda act out and the way they're raised dictates how they act. Kinda like kids huh?

Anyway, my days are full, and my nights are cosy and snuggly. Cash opts for the spooning spot next to me, while Molly prefers under the covers, at my feet.

2007-11-14T20:43:00.000-05:00

The second picture cracks me up. They look like Cheech and Chong.

2007-11-14T10:27:00.000-05:00

In the late 1990's I think, there was a movies called Mr. Holland's Opus which I fell in love with. I loved everything about. The time it was set through, the story, the high school experience...and at the end, Mr. Holland, a music teacher, is retiring after cuts to the arts, and a student gets up and says that for years there had been rumours that Mr. Holland was working on a symphony...anyway, I don't want to be Mr. Holland, and those of you who are around, know that I'm writing...so here's Ch. 1...although I'm totally re-working it...

tell me if it's shit.

It was the act of getting there, the slow, cautious walk towards the small crowd, dominating her thoughts this morning. And so she placed, foot over foot, slow and deliberate. Her black high heeled strides keeping a mixed up double timed beat to his quick miniature 6 year old strides. They walked, with deep conscious purpose toward where they were supposed to be. Supposed like it was obligatory, but really, from the day she met him, there was, never would, be anything obligatory. Except Aedan. That was an obligation without pretence. She couldn’t blame him, especially now. She could still feel the overwhelming force of guilt towards him for not knowing. Or herself, for not knowing he should know. She looked down, clutching his hand, little curls of blond randomly hit with rain, springing as he walked, his eyes a mixture of ocean blue and stormy gray, darting up and back, trying to catch the voyage of each drop falling from each curl, knowing by his Mother’s expression, black suit, and the umbrella they stopped to buy on the way (he had never seen his Mother with anything as reasonable as an umbrella in the rain), that this was sombre. Like church. But without his books or kneelers to kick with toe of shoe making his Mother break into the devilish grin she used when he was funny but shouldn’t be. He would have to be both quiet and seemingly fascinated with the events. He knew this. And yet, also knew, was conscious, of a feeling down below, between stomach and knees, that this was a day he needed to remember.

She knew it started at 11:00. She also knew she didn’t want to go to the church. Couldn’t be forced, by conscious or unconscious drive or sense of duty to go to the church. She had prepared herself just as she had prepared herself for this day. Knowing this day would arrive, prepared for this day to arrive, but unaware, had no knowledge of the timing. She knew, had prepared, this second dutiful good-bye. Would make it better than the first, she knew. Though it didn’t matter now. Really. Her eyes darting over the paper, reading the name once, twice, three times, before allowing herself, to understand that it was him. His name, the name she had muttered, uttered, moaned a million times, 57, died at home, blah blah she read over and over and over and somehow for some reason had cut it out, and placed it above her bed, scotch taped it next to the picture he always hated but she loved and moved with her carefully from place to place town to town to the old farmhouse that was too warm in the summer and too cold in the winter with its sounds and noises at night, keeping Aedan asleep and her dumbly wide awake. The house he would have loved, had he seen, but probably had seen. She had thought she saw, his car outside, nights before, just sitting. Knowing she knew he was there and she knowing he was there, the collective consciousness she had never felt with anyone before or since, allowing them to know each other’s thoughts at the precise moment of thought, sometimes before the other realized they were thinking together.

She knew every thought, every utterance, every love laced sigh.

She walked, with Aedan, hand clenched through the rain (and why does it always rain at these things?) thinking of Vancouver, over perfectly trimmed grass they only ever have in cemeteries and ball parks, some retired cop and his ride on lawnmower every Wednesday, looking briefly and without interest at random, dried out and withered arrangements left by families who’ve already done today, thinking of love and loss and death and forgiveness and anything but him and anything but today, the small crowd coming into vision, she looked down at her son, at their son, who with the impeccable timing of his father, squeezed her hand, looked up, with that same tired smile, and said “Come on Mom. We’ll miss it.”

2007-11-14T10:24:00.000-05:00

you call
and i know
you sound
drunk with
impatience
permeating
discomfort
and i don't
know
why it always
comes to this
a hello
irritation
a sigh
and ends with
whatever.

all my loves
go away
ending
with
whatever.

it's like that ron white joke...about being at the airbase, performing for like 9,000 airmen or something, and the lady from the back yells out "Yeah, and every one of them's a bad lay" and ron says, after the 8,999, wouldn't you think...

maybe it's me?

maybe it's me?

i mean really. maybe i'm destined to love and be loved by puggles and friends and maybe that's as good as it's gonna get...

2007-11-14T10:23:00.000-05:00

'Earn headier lush.'

http://www.anagramgenius.com/server.html

2007-11-11T12:23:00.001-05:00

Early morning walks. Lonnnnnng walks. The zoom button is clearly beyond me. But it's COLD. My little fingers chatter their teeth...

2007-11-08T12:20:00.000-05:00

Calliope is back.

A foul-mouthed (sometimes) black haired (sometimes) hippy chick who smokes an incredible amount of cigarettes.

When drain'd is the nectar which gladdens the bowl,
How vain is the effort delight to prolong!
When cold is the beauty which dwelt in my soul,
What magic of Fancy can lengthen my song?

Can the lips sing of Love in the desert alone,
Of kisses and smiles which they now must resign ?
Or dwell with delight on the hours that are flown ?
Ah, no! for those hours can no longer be mine.

Can they speak of the friends that I lived but to love?
Ah, surely Affection ennobles the strain!
But how can my numbers in sympathy move,
When I scarcely can hope to behold them again?

Byron (obvious)

2007-11-08T12:16:00.000-05:00

But you, but you...

You write such pretty words
But life's no storybook
Love's an excuse to get hurt
And to hurt.
Do you like to hurt?
I do, I do

Then hurt me...

A Lover I don't have to Love, Bright Eyes

2007-11-05T07:56:00.000-05:00

First there was Molly Bloom.
She was cute and well behaved and working through the incontinence. But one day...

She jumped on my bed and said:

"Psssssst"
"Molllllllllyyyyy I'm sleeping. Go back to bed"
"Ok Ok but I have to tell you something, I had a terrible dream"
"Ok, what?"
"I dreamed I was alone."
"Well, we're all alone dude."
"Don't call me dude. No, I mean really alone. What if I didn't have Hershey to play with? And I get so SAD when I leave the Ranch! And you know when you stop talking to COI then I don't get to play with Blaze annnnnnd we NEVER see GOB and Jasper and and and..."
"What about TJ?"
"TJ? THE MENTALLY HANDICAPPED SHEPARD AT THE PARK? Good grief, he should wear a helmet."
"That's not nice. He was overbred."
"We eat the dogs like that you know. Ok LISTEN."
"Stop yelling"
"I want a little brother"
"Good god NO! You're FINE"
"PLLLLLLLLLEEEAAASE I'll be really good with him and love him and play with him and you know if you have one dog what's the difference with two? HUH? Come on..."
"Ask GOB what she thinks"
"Ok"

Type type type type type...AIM BLEEEEEEMP sound...

"GOB said yes she thinks I need a little brother and SHE KNOWS BECAUSE SHE HAS KIDS"
"I'll think about it"
"And I want to name him Johnny Cash. We can call him Cash."
"No. Then he'll develop a drug habit, and wave his little middle paw at me, plus Molly Bloom would never ever ever hang around someone like Johnny Cash"
"Seriously. I insist. I don't want him if I don't get to name him."

I'm a sucker for puppy rationalization. Dammit.

They are HAPPY...Look at the little smiling Molly face...

Then SLEEPY...

2007-11-03T07:59:00.001-04:00

2007-11-01T10:09:00.000-04:00

Molly and I spent her first Halloween struggling through the HUGE pile of Johnny Depp movies Penny has somehow acquired. We chose Secret Window which is not really mentionable except that it appears to be a pretty normal kinda cliche movie UNTIL you get to the end which is also cliche but only in the way that if you've read a lot of Palahniuk or Philip K Dick or maybe even Koontz you would find it cliche. The non-readers would find it, I suppose, an insanely good ending, that they never saw coming...(God I'm pretentious sometimes)...however, the one part toward the end that I did like although it was CRAZY contrived...there's a guy throughout the movie called "Shooter" but at the end, carved into the walls is "Shoot Her" which I SHOULD have caught but didn't and was like wooooooow that's pretty cool.

BUT the part that was most enjoyable by Molly and myself...was that Johnny Depp, a hermit writer, spends the majority of his time, staring at his computer screen, re reading sentences his written aloud, then there's an overdub of his "editor" voice saying "that's just bad writing. that's all it is"...taking naps in the middle of the day, and talking to his dog as if he's a person.

Molly and I found this to be quite...applicable to our own days and ways.

There weren't many kids around last night, I don't know why, I suppose the apartments drive them to the suburbs, residential areas, which is weird to me. As a teen driving to St. Catharines or Toronto and wandering the streets on Halloween was...the best.

I'm going to go to do some rather boring work now I think. Sigh. My existence is becoming spreadsheets and expensive medical equipment.

2007-10-29T14:42:00.000-04:00

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart...
-- wordsworth

i'm thinking of writing. and the sudden inability to have little to say onto the page. i'm thinking of the idea of an audience, someone or something or some mass of people that will collectively gather their consciousness together and wander through words i created. i don't know if it is the sudden lack of audience or the sudden interest of an audience that has made my writing heart wince, clench up into a ball, roll over defeated and whimper noooooooooo...

and it's not that there is nothing to say. there is much to say. there is one really big thing to say and yet and yet and yet...

nothing.

in other news i went to shopper's drug mart today and bought a pair of $13 reading glasses. it's a terrible thing to be a writer and a reader and suddenly feel your vision seeping away. joyce wrote the last part of the wake almost completely blind, on huge sheets of butcher paper, in crayon...i remember when i was told that story how deeply it affected me. that a man, with such a gift, such a story to TELL to transcribe suddenly becomes completely without the ability to do so, and not because of his hand, not because of the instrument which MAKES the story, not even the mind but because of what SEES the creation in process. it's a bit like the audience thing...maybe i'm having trouble seeing what i write, really SEEING it...dr. penelope used to talk about the 'writers' eye in this weird kinda eastern buddist way, the kinda third eye the writer has or has to have as audience in the creation...when you feel it slipping, i think you'll do anything, butcher paper and crayons to hold onto it.

the thing is...gravity has always been beyond me. and as a rule, i don't know i'm slipping until i've fallen head first and limb splayed outside on some massively populated parking lot.

do any of us really have anything to say? really? it's the whole those who came before me have already said it. how many love stories can be told? the fear of failing in comparison isn't as strong as the fear of creating something that has been created before.

ohhhhh my little writer's eye is squinting...

self staggering + reading

2007-10-27T14:51:00.000-04:00

There are very very few writers/books I find funny. the problem being my obvious penchant for the hilarity of people being momentarily physically injured. Sedaris sometimes. But this book, "She Got Up Off the Couch" by Haven Kimmel cracks me up almost on every page. She's from Indiana but I swear she grew up in Fort Erie in my family. And she's not trying to be funny. Sedaris is contrived sometimes but honestly, these are the funniest unintentional things I've read in a LONG time...and she's a Quaker. Why are these writers that grew up in weird kinda religious homes so funny and such great story tellers? Maybe cause I grew up in a weird kinda religious home...so Catholics are weird and Quakers are funny.

We kept a fifty-pound bag of dog food on the back porch, and one evening my dad reached in with the dog's pan and a rat ran up his arm. Dad threw the pan so hard it broke the light fixture above the door, and in trying to shake the rat off, spun himself around in a circle and smacked his head against the door frame.

I don't know why, but this made me do the weird giggle snort that gets stuck up my nose noise...it was the hitting the door frame...

A Short List of Records my Father Threatened to Break Over My Head If I Played Them One More Time:

3. Someone Saved my Life Tonight by Elton John: I understood only one line of this song: "And butterflies are free to fly, fly away." The rest was completely lost on me. I assumed the British did not speak English, which was a puzzle as they were sometimes referred to as the English. Not understanding the lyrics required me to listen to the song hundreds, perhaps thousands of times, filling in with nonsense words, which my sister said made me look oxygen deprived and sad.

2007-10-24T15:31:00.001-04:00

Tell me you know who wouldn't win...

http://bix.yahoo.com/contest/23416

2007-10-22T12:53:00.000-04:00

i promise i haven't fallen off the face of the earth.

just into me a bit.

and i didn't know the rules gob. now i do, it shall never occur again.

2007-10-11T09:08:00.001-04:00

the infamous wedding.

2007-10-11T09:02:00.000-04:00

The infamous bone battle.

it went on FOREVER.

2007-10-10T14:48:00.000-04:00

two days in fort erie "watching" annie, who oddly enough, i've seen for about two 30 minutes intervals during dinner. the rest of the time spend in one of her little caves upstairs or down.

kids are weeeeird these days.

kinda rolling out of dim rooms, the only light computer or tv screens and wince wince wincing at the sun upon embarking on outdoor activities.

molly hurt her toe so she's kinda icky.

and i'm just working away and doing my thing.

i don't really miss the sauga too much which is odd because i usually get antsy around day 2, but i think the whole lonnnng wedding - thanksgiving - thanksgiving again thing kinda supersaturated my need or ability to engage with people.

i do miss the gardener though.

sigh.

2007-10-09T13:13:00.001-04:00

2007-10-05T11:09:00.001-04:00

Oh and...

I LOVE this...

2007-10-05T11:02:00.001-04:00

Why didn't I think of that?
Thanks g...

2007-10-04T15:50:00.000-04:00

I got to wear this today.

I am deeply considering the whole go back to school and get my CNS thing that BMH's been pushing for years.

I do love it.

I can't tell you WHERE i was today but i can tell you i met 4 old women in a hospital room, and their combined ages were 383. they were all so sharp and sweet and funny. the one women, little italian lady, lives alone in a three storey house, and burned herself while she was cooking soup FOR THE WEEK. i told her i would come live with her and she could take care of me. i don't know what was wrong with the other 3 but they looked fine to me. it was like mama's family in there. one of them had the cutest little old lady voice omg, it was like a tv cliche old lady voice.

it is shocking how much i talk and act like my mother in the clinical setting.

sigh.

it just feels like i've done enough school y'know? and yet, there's this weird incredible urge to do this.

this urge urged last time i worked in the clinical setting. i should have listened to it rather than the whole education insanity.

a posse ad esse...

2007-10-03T08:45:00.000-04:00

yesterday i woke up to the teeniest tiniest cutest little hickey.

today i have meetings in fort erie.

tomorrow i have clinical rounds (i SO feel like i'm on house)...

and it goes on and on and on and on...

i'm getting a little tired...like not like sleep for 3 days tired but running around thinking all the time tired and it has been SO VERY LONG since i've had that...like since student teaching probably. i can't say i got any of it at 511.

hummmmmm...

the 511 student, jd, is quitting.

i haven't heard from the freak.

i miss the gardener.

i really just have to pee and am trying to finish this as quick as possible, because i'm sitting at BMH's desk and there are incontinence flyers and products staring me in the face

OK

more LATER

2007-10-02T08:24:00.000-04:00

yeah so molly and i have decided that we want to live as near to the elora gorge as humanly possible. molly LOVES it...

2007-10-02T07:30:00.001-04:00

Really, the fact that my apartment is ONE ROOM with very little cute knick knacks (if any)...the only thing i could possibly throw out is the stupid shit he ever bought me (which i already have...the accordian GOD...) and the stupid shit i bought him that he sent back.

Beyond that, i have no choice but to accept this as metaphor...

Move the furniture around. In fact, why not move some of it right through the front door and out of your life? If we're lucky, this will get you in the mood to launch a purge of everything that no longer belongs under your roof. Maybe you could throw a Simplification Party, complete with an exorcism. Or corral your friends for a haul-it-all-away caravan to the garbage dump. I don't care how you do it, Cancerian. Just get rid of all knick-knacks, wall hangings, funny mirrors, broken dreams, balls and chains, and formerly cute mementoes that have lost their cuteness. It's time to liberate your home.

2007-10-02T06:50:00.000-04:00

random 6am thoughts...

1. having a coming out party, posting posters all over port credit advertising, with a random date when all friends, acquintances and random gay people would randomly show up at his place. (this was a very very vivid dream).

2. the way the gardener tastes...wine slurpy kisses (which is kinda the gardener's line but i forget the EXACTNESS of it.)

3. the way the gardener tastes in the morning.

4. the way he says good-bye, walking up the stairs little coveralls and work boots clunking up the stairs...

i sent him with lunch this morning which is odd in that he generally doesn't take lunch, but he did, and i reminded myself of my mother. utterly. packing everything just so, placing apple on top with cutlery and a little bottle of the cider we bought at the farmer's market, then writing a little love note totally cheesy while he dresses in the other room...

i'm falling into him hard.

and i like it.

a lot.

it feels so different to start loving someone who loves back, who isn't competing...

and you know i've never ever ever even wanted to BEGIN this whole argument because i find it way egotistical to ever say this in a self reflective manner but it just seems my entire life, from my mother to my sister to any man i've ever dated to most of the friends i've ever had to my inability for the most part to have any friends forever and any man that wasn't psychotic...that everything is a constant constant state of competition. and the artist writes that [blank] is being crazy because he thinks i've won or whatever which is just so INSANE to me...and i'm a competitive person but not within relationships y'know? at it's core, aren't mutually beneficial relationships supposed to be some give and take, some reciprocation, some working together for the attainment of a same goal? but then like yesterday in all these meetings with BMH, i'm sitting there at like the 6th hour of the last one, and it just completely strikes me that we are all....9 people....working toward ONE GOAL and that never ever happened with [blank]. really. it was always him trying to WIN and in any relationship moment we've had it was kinda the same thing...

and (metaphorically) the night i drank him under the table and was still coherent enough to brag about it was the day he lost his mind. well, that or the coke i suppose. and i get the napolean complex, the dysmorphophobia, as well as the whole locker room syndrome thing or SPS or whatever (the guy drove a suburban when i met him...COME ON)...but i'm just not nuturing enough to these concerns (i think it's stupid) nor able to have a complete disassociation of temperment, character and physical deformaties.

hummmmmmmm....

so now i'm thinking because the gardener had this cute little look and looks at me and says 'why do you think they all end like this..." and "maybe it's you" which is pretty funny and we have this running joke like "OH here comes the real sarah" but and i know i have to try at this...i don't REALLY think it's me. kinda. to a point. and the point is this...

i am VERY easy going with men. really. i have, as the artist says, no hang-ups. which is i believe a good thing. the bad thing, and i know those of you who know know me won't believe this but if we all stop and think i think it will become clear...i'm a bit too easy going and a bit of a push over. sleeping with someone else? well whatever. illegal drugs? oh well, i'll help. out every night of the week with other men and women? have fun...MISS MY FREAKIN BIRTHDAY? it just goes on and on and on...so i think when i let so much be gotten away with, and then i finally leave or whatever...it's this final NO after very little NO's and it makes them nutty. which isn't to say there hasn't been ANY no's...the black eye was a no. so was the broken window. but i think that was more a power struggle than a definite no-ness. if there is such a thing. and then things he's done...top those two defining sarah no moments. really.

(so hands up, walking backwards waving the white flag YOU WIN. i don't understand the competition i don't know how i even got into the competition but ummm yeah you win, gold star or whatever you expect now. you got me. now leave me alone. forever. is the state of mind at this point.)

so the best i can do, what i've figured out, is to find someone who is not in the words of BMH a slimy creep and hope i won't have to deal with the drugs and women and drinking and slightly sexually off situations.

and i think i maybe found him.

not like "where's my pen? WHOOPS there's the little guy" found, i mean found like trust him and trust myself with him for us to do this.

happily.

ever.

2007-10-01T20:22:00.000-04:00

so

i. don't. even. want. to. give. any. more. enabling. words.

but...

i wrote something really liberating and REALLY mean last night. i'd like to post it but only in a vindictive way and the things he does that then makes me respond in that way is enabling. and i can use that word because he doesn't know what it means. which is a yardstick for the future. indeed. any dateable man must know the common psychological term 'enabling' that way when i say it, and refuse to do it they will know what i'm saying and what i'm refusing.

there are random eminem songs floating in and out and in and out of my head. you can guess them. one is about throwing up and one is about kim. huh. weird.

i had the best day of my life with NORMAL BUSINESS MEN (who knew? it's not about getting drunk and making raunchy boob jokes in front of me. there are business people who don't swear and actually DO STUFF IN THE FIRST MEETING).

ANYWAY

i will end this thread of my life with the following...(props to sinead, you really have to HEAR it to get it, but i can't grasp the whole upload a song thing, even with GOB's step by step DYC directions...i suck...) so. with this. goodbye. and good luck. or whatever. nhfjdshfou7yuhfku&*&**()((&(*&F*&(*FEWYFHFN.

ERG.

Phew.

This is the last day of our acquaintance
I will meet you later in somebody's office
I'll talk but you won't listen to me
I know what your answer will be
I know you don't love me anymore
You used to hold my hand when the plane took off
Two years ago there just seemed so much more
And I don't know what happened to our love
Today's the day
Our friendship has been stale
And we will meet later to finalize the details
Two years ago the seed was planted
And since then you have taken me for granted
But this is the last day of our acquaintance
I will meet you later in somebody's office
I'll talk but you won't listen to me
I know your answer already
But this is the last day of our acquaintance
I will meet you later in somebody's office
I'll talk but you won't listen to me
I know your answer already
I know your answer already
I know your answer already

2007-09-28T15:22:00.000-04:00

Falling into him is like this...

2007-09-27T19:25:00.001-04:00

oh and

[blank] who i've been recently getting 'along' with and doing the weird kinda 'friend' thing where you still do choice things that you liked in the relationship, the only things that you liked doing in the relationship and it's been ok, but in the back of my mind, next to all the random jeopardy knowledge is the little ghost of relationships past who squeeks in my ear and says she knows how this will end,

and she was right.

and that saddens me more than the break-up did.

we were at our core, at our prime, at the height of the [blank]andsarah team really good friends. there are things i can tell him and all that stuff that i don't really have anyone else to tell them to. i know he feels the same, and this kinda sucks.

but i'm done enabling him.

that's the new mantra.

i just caught a glimpse of the little ghost and she's is smiling through tears.

2007-09-27T18:59:00.000-04:00

so...

i spent a much needed mental health day with the gardener today. not much needed like i'm so overworked and blah blah but much needed for him and i, i think. it was just great to spend some time together doing what we both do best, or what he's teaching me to do atleast 1/3 as well as he does...hanging out, going with the flow and doing whatever.

whoah. back-up...

so i pick the gardener up from the wisdom teeth thing...which wasn't as bad as i thought and really he's fine which is WEIRD but he is weird so there. fuzzy headed i walk him to car, to drug store, through 2 beers, 2 oxy, 4 advil and he was FINE. talking and chatting and READING the body artist...

so today we wake up, he's taken the day off and as such, so must i...and go to the farmer's market in st. jacob's, which is by far one of my favourite places to go ever. we used to go once every few years as kids, and i just remember the food and smells and sounds and they were ALL THERE and molly came and got pig ears, and knuckle bones that she is now chomp chomp chomping on, and ate sausage and attained utter stardom.

the highlights:

ontario grapes that are SO good, buckwheat honey, unpasterized apple cider from a couple menonites in their little buggy insisting their brother bred molly, then saying the guy next to him was the brothers brother, and then calling the other brother over but the brother who supposedly bred her was absent so who will ever know...blueberry struedel, jerky, honey crisp apples, homemade soap (called china night), little girls in bonnets, and this...the highlights of all highlights (apart from watching molly in the gorge...)

we went to a cow auction. it was so very...farmy? then because the gardener is familiar with these type of things and answered all my ridiculous questions (me: where does milk come from? like why do they have so much milk? him: they're pregnant me: oh. why are they so thin? him: all their nutrients go into the milk me: oh. why are they hitting them? him: to get them to move. me: where are they going? him: probably to a truck. me: oh. can we buy a pig? him: you have to register. me: oh. can i register? him: i guess. me: why do they sell them? him: for money. me: oh. how much is a cow? him: i'm not sure, the prices are probably different now. they have a scale in the floor and it goes by pound. me: oh. him: we can go watch. me: ok. what does 71 mean? him: 71 cents a pound me: oh. so a cow is only like $500? him: yes. me: can i get one? him: no. me: don't let me leave here with a piglet ok? him: ok. ) so he takes me to the 'observation deck' which in most places is a cheesy little gate blocking a cheesy little 'kodak camera' spot that you're supposed to take pictures or look at with a little binocular thing that you put quarters in and never works BUT at an auction the observation deck is this HUGE walk-around where you go and look at all the cows that are being auctioned. and like there's a THOUSAND cows and all these little menonites (who are so HOT? am i wrong?) and they're all moo-ing and molly's just like completely out of her realm of capability in dealing with THIS, and we walked around and looked at the cows and he tells me all about them, and i picked out the ones i liked and there were little ones and a couple horses...then we go to the auction and there's a guy like on tv talking all fast and wearing dirty overalls. apparently you have to go to school for that.

it was amazing. really.

then we take all these little side roads and the gardener leads us to the alora? gorge and molly ohmigod was SO FREAKIN funny running through the little river, following the gardener run run running all over wet and muddy and seaweed smelling and it was just SO FUNNY.

then beer on top of a water fall.

then i took him home. and molly put two front paws up and looked out the back window and whimpered for a while, watching him walk away...

so.

one of if not THE best day i have had in MONTHS. i forget what it's like to be with someone smart and neat and weird and fun...and not a type of let's rent something expensive fun that i've become accustomed to, and y'know that's fun too, but the just doing nothing but doing so much watching cows kinda fun. god it was great. like so great. so great in fact that the only adjective i have is great which is ridiculous, the second dumbest adjective in the english language, the first being nice, followed by dumbest. frankly.

it was just so easy. and i, so content.

2007-09-26T07:36:00.000-04:00

Tonight is the Harvest Moon. Molly and I are gonna go out and find a good spot by the water and sit and sigh and think and watch and take pictures of her face lit up in fall light from the moon.

Tonight is wisdom teeth. the gardener. and in my sympathy wisdom teeth pulling i have discovered something very strange about the tooth near the back, the 'problem' one that they've wanted to pull, root canal etc. i'm ignoring it, until it really hurts anyway, attempting my best to will my way out of major dentistry which is what i KNOW will happen.

OH bought a ralph lauren brass buttoned blazer on ebay. i like it A LOT.

i'm having a hard time getting out of bed and rolling...

Molly's watching dogs with jobs, about a dog (peedy peedy is the dog's unfortunate name) from New Zeland who chases but does not EAT endangered kiwi (the birds not the food), then a pug who competes and wins in agility tests. i'm seriously thinking of making molly DO something. she's so stubborn though. hummmmm....

seemingly a boring post

hummmmmmmmmmmmmmm....

a good post.

2007-09-25T15:55:00.001-04:00

it's glenn gould's birthday today.

i had cbc news cranked this morning during the morning croissants and the station had tecnical difficulties throughout the ENTIRE glenn gould THING which you know is just kinda my luck.

i'm obsessed with these people, these music makers or makers of music about 10 - 15 years too late and it is just SO UNFAIR.

i'm re-reading the johnny cash biography, which i lent to the landscaper and he brought it back and tried to talk to me about it and there was so much i forgot, so i started re-reading. ANYWAY his manager from the 1970's to until he stopped recording was from London Ontario. He proposed to June in Toronto. I mean it sucks like hell that I never see him perform, that I just barely barely missed it, but there's also all these weird other geographical nearnesses. so i had my afternoon nap and dreamed about him, that i lived in a cabin next door to him and i should just get up the courage to go over and say hi WHICH is very telling about something else in my life, but there ya go.

ANYWAY

if you know me or don't know me you should know this about me...

i have a strange obsession with gould, that is on par with my joyce obsession EXCEPT the gould obsession is different in that...it's an obsession like i'm obsessed with stephen dedealus or molly bloom (the original not the fuzzy one). which doesn't make complete sense, using the joyce formula (and jon the physicist could help me out here) i should be obsessed with bach, who wrote the music not with gould who played it, as i would be obsessed with joyce who made dedealus.

the obsession is rooted i believe in my grandparents somehow who used to play this horrible AM radio station that made those horrible AM radio station noises, and they'd play a lot of opera type stuff, some big band, some plan bad, and of course gould. i think my grandmother may have 'seen' him, but i may be mixing that up with trudeau who i believe she kissed. my grandmother was a good looking women when she was younger.

ANYWAY

so then i start wondering why do i have this thing for gould? and the artist and i talk about it, and he decides it's the flaws of gould, as i cite that i loved when the cbc re-released unedited versions of the goldberg variations and if you turn it up you can hear gould hummmmmm, through the entire recording. so i ask the artist WHY would they take that out? and he said because it's a flaw. and looking at the long list of men i've been with, or been accussed of being with (some of them are just ridiculous) i suppose it's somewhat easy to agree with him, that i have this fascination or obsession with the flawed. but then i think what is flawed? i mean at what point is something or some situation flawed? i don't believe the humming is a flaw, i believe it's amazing and brilliant and weird and i dunno....i dunno how to talk about classical music and i'm gonna let a fuckin awesome slip, but that's what it's like. i put it on, and stop and stare and listen, really really listen. it's amazing. the way his voice goes with the music, the way his voice leads his fingers over the keys. i suppose the older guys, the guys who aren't employed in the jobs they could or should be, the guys with tattoos (which is the simpliest of all self inflicted flaws...as oppossed to say? marriage) the piercings, and unattainable, the drugs, the drinking, in retrospect i've had them all and i guess that certainly isn't flaw-less...clearly walking talking imperfections.

but gould is perfect to me.

just as they were all at some point perfect to me.

i didn't want this to turn into a weird introspective sparring session.

i really just wanted to say happy birthday glenn.

i'm gonna crank the goldbergs, maybe take molly for her evening walk around the just named glenn gould plaza by metro hall, and walking down toronto streets, fuzz bucket strutting along side, i'll hummmmm as much i can remember as celebration.

2007-09-25T15:53:00.000-04:00

2007-09-23T16:50:00.000-04:00

2007-09-23T16:46:00.000-04:00

2007-09-22T10:58:00.000-04:00

getting iced tea in a cup.

2007-09-21T13:01:00.000-04:00

2007-09-21T12:57:00.001-04:00

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	High
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	Very High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Very High
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Low
Level 7 (Violent)	High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Moderate
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Second Level of Hell

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You have come to a place mute of all light, where the wind bellows as the sea does in a tempest. This is the realm where the lustful spend eternity. Here, sinners are blown around endlessly by the unforgiving winds of unquenchable desire as punishment for their transgressions. The infernal hurricane that never rests hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine, whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them. You have betrayed reason at the behest of your appetite for pleasure, and so here you are doomed to remain. Cleopatra and Helen of Troy are two that share in your fate.

2007-09-20T11:30:00.000-04:00

2007-09-20T11:08:00.000-04:00

i wait all week for the pruning of foliage and now it's fall and still i wait, even though it's an important time of year, as far as i can tell, for matters of foliage and horticulture or whatever is the appropriate david suzuki or whatever term and suddenly everything i touch has pruning shears, everything i delve into, everyone i surround myself with know the latin names and are way way beyond my fleeting love of miracle grow and into these things flowers and plants and things i have an incredible capacity to kill, terrible floodings or terrible droughts i take a seemingly healthly little violet spread and bring it home ohhhhhh coy coy little thing so sweet i place it in the window and play with it, and talk to it, and play glen gould to it, and this lasts between 48 and 72 hours and then i forget and in my guilt drown it or give up and let the poor thing leave this world...and i'm surrounding myself with people who are totally into this shit, totally into it, and as far as i can tell, really good at it...

and the gardener comes confused as hell but accepting the way it is, the way we are, and we hold hands as we walk through the parking lot, and we tell good stories and sad stories and i ask point blank what he's gonna do about the hw or me or us and he doesn't know, says he doesn't know and i'm an easier plant to take care of i think, stick me in the window and i'll grow and wilt and re grow and wilt and transplant me once in a while from little black pot to huge expansive clay one made in mongolia (OH GOB remember that poster in Shenzhen? the "make clay with our noses" or whatever it was? what WAS it?? god that was funny) and other than that i will thrive and grow and be the pride of any gardener and i don't know that he sees that yet, i don't know what he sees, but he lays next to me waking up at 3 coughing and i go get water, and i have a nuturing for him that i haven't felt since high school, and i don't know why...i think being with the men i was with, men that pushed anything remotely nuturing away, made me way too self conscious of it, but he smiles and says it's cute when i wash his coveralls for him, and hang up his clothes.

and the other flowerboy is more academic in his pruning...and it's different but good, he leaves tea at the back door and pops up when i need him and talks about foliage but in a different way...

and xxxx is around fleetingly and we don't talk about plants or flowers but work and business and he tells me all that is going on and i listen, and talk back and we hold each other, two people, our wilted branches, and infested parts visible to each other...

and all is easy and full and remarkable to find myself at this spot, in this place, so much has changed, so much is free and i think i see a new little bud next to the wilted branch on my pinky finger...

but honest to god, if i don't get out of this apartment today, i'm gonna start eating the desk.

2007-09-18T09:56:00.000-04:00

The picture was taken in 1936 by Captain Provand and Indre Shira, on assignment at Raynham Hall for the magazine Country Life. It purports to show the ghost of the 'Brown Lady' who haunts Raynham Hall in England. The image is widely believed to be one of the best and most convincing of all the known photographs of ghosts.

According to legend, the Brown Lady of Raynham is the ghost of Lady Townshend who was married to Charles Townshend, a man known for his fiery temper. When Charles learned of his wife's infidelity, he punished her by imprisoning her in the family estate at Raynham Hall, located in Norfolk, England. He never allowed her to leave its premises, not even to see her children. She remained there until her death, when she was an old woman.

Over the next two centuries Lady Townshend's ghost was repeatedly sighted wandering through Raynham Hall, suggesting that she never left its premises even after her death.

2007-09-17T22:39:00.001-04:00

I was lying in my bed last night staring
At a ceiling full of stars
When it suddenly hit me
I just have to let you know how I feel
We live together in a photograph of time
I look into your eyes
And the seas open up to me
I tell you I love you
And I always will
And I know you can't tell me
I know you can't tell me

So I'm left to pick up
The hints, the little symbols of your devotion

2007-09-17T22:25:00.001-04:00

2007-09-17T22:17:00.000-04:00

I’m working on a curriculum all week, actually Sunday – Tuesday when I’m supposed to be in Peterborough teaching, I’m here trying to re-work a curriculum in which the nurse who wrote it wrote “centred” for “centered” through the entire 200 pages. So last night I had a total melt down and deleted the entire thing and am now re-writing it.

and the other night I went for dinner with *** and kids and it ended gooooood and apart from civil every couple day emails I don’t hear from him which is really really great in a non-sarcastic way, just in a way, and I told him I didn’t want to ever do the whole relationship thing again and he agreed so now we’re friends who hold each other every couple of days when the need to hold something become non-negotiable…then this guy who talks like alan rickman though he says he doesn't i think he does and is pretty fuckin charming...and the landscaper was over last week? And it was good…then calls yesterday morning at like 7am and says he needs to see me and he sounds all weird and I think god someone’s died and I don’t have the ability to deal with this this Sunday morning, but he comes over, clean shaven, well dressed, shirt starched, totally hot as hell, and looks all weird and comes in while I’m making molly’s eggs, and holds me and kisses me long and deep and says he just has to see me, he misses me and doesn’t know that he doesn’t know what to do, and then in 15 mins. is gone for a family thing with the other hw, and when alan rickman is over with coffee and croissants I tell him the story and he says that I have to take control and stop just going with the flow and I’m all like the going with the flow thing is my new mantra and he tells me to shut up which is cute only because of the accent and he laughs at my replies and says I’m too smart for people and I sigh, and the other night after the landscaper and I watched walk the line and talked about Johnny Cash and he helped me get my shirt off and into bed and into his arms, before that he read Dante to me in the dark in Italian while I gleeming peering over his shoulder and read the English translations…

And there's a wedding, which is great, it's a good wedding and one which i am happy to go to (almost except for the weird anxiety thing) and the landscaper is coming with me which settle settle settles me, and i can wear the pretty new dress which is cute only because it will be the landscaper who will appreciate it and call me gorgeous and take my hand and i'll be happy and full...

And life is good. I just don’t need anything else falling from the sky at me y’know?

I think I’m somehow making peace.

2007-09-17T14:29:00.000-04:00

2007-09-14T12:37:00.000-04:00

so i have this kinda ebay obsession that mirrors GOB's not so recent ebay obsession...i'm atleast 3 years late...sometimes i'm SO out of it. but molly's 15 random squeky plush toys arrived today and she kinda sits there with her little under-over bite poking out, butterfly ears pulled back, while i cut open the package giving her little molly murmurs and turn it upside down, some of them hitting her on her head, and she picks each one up and shakes and squeks it, puts it down, picks up another one, shakes it and squeks it. her favourite seems to be this little green like witch hat with fuzz on the top and eyes and jelly fish tentacles on the bottom...she is as happy as i've ever seen her though i worry that since i've been working at home....it's kinda like the home school thing...a constant worry with a lot of positives. i'm scared she'll get weird like i get weird when i'm alone too long.

the landscaper was over. we watched walk the line, he for the first time, me for like the thousandth. i love johnn cash. i now have a poster of him lighting a cigarette from hammersmith odeon in 1966 over my bed, and i like it.
unrelated, i have a weird little almost zit that's been forming on my upper lip for days that's hurt for days and that is now this weird little red dot that hurts like hell.
the xxx emails...then says nothing for HOURS. his emails have become what it used to be like sleeping with him...this huge snore, as i laid awake and tried not to listen, then silence, then another, then a gap where he'd get stuck and NOT breath and i'd wait and wait and then just when i'd get freaked there would be this HUGE snore that'd scare the crap outta me...his emails are following the same progression.

OH! i also got the 2nd edition finnegans wake yesterday that i bought off ebay...it's sooooooo cool. i always wanted to kinda be a book collector type person but never quite got into it...the landscaper and i sat outside drinking beer, smelling the pages like petals, and reading random lines...