Friday, January 25, 2013

Which one of us is free.

Every year this happens.
"It's me again! Oh hello mirror." I'm sitting on my bed, looking at my body. Its naked. I've spent the past two weeks in a flurry, hurriedly exercising (IF YOU DON'T TRAIN INSANE, YOU REMAIN THE SAME!) spreading honey over my body, painting parts of myself, removing hair from other parts. I've crunched, and plucked and exfoliated and provided ample amounts of moisturizer to everywhere. I'm sore and clean, and I kinda feel brand new. As if the cold, dreary sludge of winter that I let get caked into all of my pores had finally been sloughed off, as if the outer protected shell had been released and here I stand now, at my tentative best.

I think I'm ready finally. I quiver in my bed smiling maniacally Upward into the darkness. 
My empty tummy groans but it's worth it. 
There are only two sleeps left. 

I start to become uneasy, tossing and turning, flinging an arm/pillow; it becomes hot suddenly. 

My passport, sitting at attention on my nightstand consoles me. 

"It's okay! Just rest. Just BREATHEEEEE. You're alright." I am clearly not alright, I am weary and sad I realize.

"No one will even question it! They think you are a lesbian anyway!" I flip over away from the nightstand, slamming a pillow Over my ear. Yet I still hear it.

"They were all ALONE at one time! They were all lost man! The beginning of their careers were milestones on the journey, not the starting point."

I start sobbing silently. What the heck does that dumb little booklet thi-

"STOP FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF! Everything is incredible right now! It is about to become more incredible-er if you would just hush your mouth and fall asleep, just let it happen."

I slowly calm down, and eventually roll back, eyes pointed towards the planes.   

Sunday, January 6, 2013

I snorted in disgust so hard that I farted so hard that I ripped the seam in my jeans so hard that everyone on the sky train is now peering at me in the relative silence. 

Phases of Loneliness - A guide for the groping. 

Part One - Are you even actually lonely? Sometimes we manifest the gaping hole of uninhabitable solitude that is loneliness in our hearts when dealing with vague and unquellable symptoms. Perhaps you should use this simple symptom checker to asay your mind, and bring awareness to the actual issue. 

1. Am I cold?
2. Am I wet?
3. Am I hungry?

If you answered "yes" to questions 1 through 2 - Congratulations! You are not lonely! Just damp, which, come to think of it, isn't that great either. So, yea, I suppose just good luck with that.

If you answered "yes" or " no" to question 3 - you have an eating disorder.  

If you answered "maybe....?" to question 3 - YOU ARE lonely. Please proceed to the next section for helpful tips on suppressing this unpleasant emotion.  

Part Two - Phases of Lonliness - or alternatively - Suppression: An Arc of Acquisition ...


Well, I made a new plan! For the new year, maaaaybs.

Im just going to exercise.  And stay in my apt, and maybe sometimes leave. Only if I have to! Hahahahaha. Hahahaha. I have a little sippy cuppy that holds the most perfect amount of beer/tea. I have the sound of the rain. Falling down and etc outside my window.
I might have more......but it's exhausting to recount everything. I'm just thankful enough for right now, and don't want to look too hard at what may be missing now. 

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Bad date ends with blood everywhere

Fucking artists. If you are friends with one, you will probably, at one point,  have your your eternal solitude broken as they gallop along with you to east van, ears turned to the left, as you hunt out the abandoned warehouse that the kids are hanging out at that night. By hanging out I mean, in a cloud of expensive cigarette smoke (which is rank) people ranging from 16 to 47 are dancing badly, drinking shitty beer, having to scuttle past the Amazonian/androgynians in line for the washroom.........beards are frizzing out and scraping your body all over as the humidity is high, and the square is low.  

I don't know if any of that made sense, because it shouldn't. 

Anyway, so I remember being in this place, and really enjoying myself..... - Because the music is so good, and the people are so beautiful, you're brain can actually process these horrific conditions as enjoyable - when all of a sudden a Talker strolls up to me. He starts talking, in the middle of the room where the dj is. I am directly in front of the dj. I have a hard time dealing with shocking and obscene behavior, so I cold shoulder him and float away, taking a drag offered to me by a bisexual girl dressed as a flapper, and then crawling over two twinks caressing each other horizontally, escaping to the back of the stage. I felt like we were all on a stage, except we were the audience too. 

It is hard to dance in public unless you are caught in the shoestrings of the party beast, the beer behemoth. And I wasn't really drunk that night,so I fake danced in the back for a bit. Time continued, the dj kept on, gorgeous, and eventually another talker approached. Except this time, I was obliged to ....maybe not social norm but definitely a response. 

It was this older grey haired/ no haired fellow, with a face that was jolly, although you could probably see visible bones if you were to look down his clavicle. He was friends with my friend, and had slept on our couch a few weeks prior. I remember that morning vividly, I had emerged at one point, as Brian slept in my bed, and had bantered with my roommate and the jolly fellow briefly while I made tea. We watched this YouTube together, it was of a girl dancing in the street, to this song. It was his girlfriends daughter, 12, and we were discussing pedophiles etc, was it weird that she was wearing so littles clothing? Etc. To me, it was so devoid of commercial sexuality, it couldn't possible be dangerous. 

Anyway, so here he was... Chatting to me. I couldn't hear him. All of a sudden, my body had to piss. And I thankfully went, surprised when he asked me to re confirm that I would return after and chat with him some more. 

I emerged from the toilet, which was dirty. It existed though, which is amazing in its own right....   Anyway I came out and he was waiting fore me there, a full 180 second walk from where we had last parted.

Anyway.  Next I'm at the Waldorf, in a room, where there is no sink because it's been removed, and books and records are cascading over it..... Miniatures are everywhere..... And I remember I was just bleeding everywhere and he was laughing. Because his face was full of blood and he liked it. And then I slept, and then I went home. And as we walked down the hall, there was this boy, in front of 132, fetal position, ground. He was asleep, and he was bleeding too. I wanted to help him, vaguely I remembered something about vomit and rock stars under the age of 27. 

It was so strange, both of us covered in blood at the same time, so close to another in physical proximity. Except he can tell his friends the story of that night, and I'm not sure if I want to tell mine. 

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

That moment of bliss right before you realize your fake personality is ONE HUNDRED times worse than your real one. 

Sooooo Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! Texty text text tappity tap screen swipy whooxoxoxo can you tell yet that this text is forced, and the face of the sender is completely devoid of emotion/Christmas cheer/ tears of friggin love and hope?

I feel an appropriate sense of joy and happiness right now, moderately enthused..... Probably going to take a nap. All of this holiday fakery has rumbled my slumber bone. 

I hope I may write here, without causing offense, a paragraph about a thought I had two weeks ago, in lieu of some countdown/recap situation about last year. It all started with my phone, in my hand, loneliness personified, a bottomless pit of shame and regret forthcoming, inputting; send. It seemed to cease not, the banter and the late night phone calls, .....The coffee date that was rescheduled and cancelled, proposed and accepted over the span of one million texts. That is an actual figure folks. 

And then, I suppose something dramatic happens here or whatever, immediately before I SLEPT WITH HIM. WILLINGLY! And then it became clear....... So many truths that have fogged over again since then. The main truth, I think, was that I am actually not that interesting, and clearly could not even  friend zone a puppy dog if I had a penis.  Soooooooooooo yea. This was hard for me to take. ........... So ooooooooooooo I decided to drop. 

The Dom Bomb. Of friendship.  

It's hard for me to go back to that day, but to my best recollection, I was just walking down Robson when I had the thought. It came unexpectedly, cluttered in with the anxious thoughts I was having about coming back to my apartment from Jacobs, clutching a coffee, hair in a swarm, piled on my head like greasy nylon.  It was awful, walking along all midday Mary shame walker amidst stylishly dressed asian girls with puppies. The thought billowed up, soundlessly encompassing my mind, like a cloud of soft, silty, insanity. It was Time, 12345766899    End text. The text to end it all.

"have you ever heard me fart or poo" 

I sit here, on my little wooden stool sobbing, trying to type the details, but it is useless to try and explain.