this is a character i have a hard time writing but when i do it ends up being way more authentic than when i try to write any of the male characters.
Fiction Alert!
I am not supposed to be pregnant. No. Especially, I am not supposed to be pregnant and painting. Where is the inspiration coming from now? Cigarettes, drugs and booze were my muse. A lot of people, men people, the ones in bands, think it's the music. No. Music is what I used to smoke during the breaks from cigarettes, drugs and booze. Now all I've got is the music and the emptiness where vice used to be and it occurs to me that music is not that bad and emptiness is okay once you tarnish it somehow with the dirt of life experience.
The attic of the B and B is no longer cold like it used to be. Byron spent the first part of September - after the tourists left and before I returned - insulating my studio. Perhaps to ensure I never leave again like I did last fall. It's too warm now but I can't tell him this. It is stifling. I open the window and the air and the sounds of outside are invited in and a little bit of my soul is allowed out. The music is different somehow now too, not better or worst, just different.
The music is distracting, yes. When you listen to familiar fingers making sounds against the guitar and know you have made similar sounds under similar circumstances, with those exact fingers, and you start to sway with brush in hand and you picture yourself as you once were, mistress-home-wrecker to guitar-wife.. you feel guilty and this guilt becomes shape and colour on canvas. It isn't a bad thing. and when you start to get the impression the music is painting through you and you feel phony for just a second when you paint the sound of his voice orange and wonder if you should worry about offending him, or worst, flattering him.
I place the brush upside down in the jar, wipe my hands down the front of my belly and make an attempt at finding an album of music consisting of a band free of past lovers, real or imagined, and it is a difficult task. I settle for Janice Joplin. Of course it is impossible to not be nostalgic when the future holds nothing but the impossibility of kinetics and the promise of pain. And Janice Joplin reminds me of the summer I just had and the boy who, unbeknown to him, changed everything about my future while fighting hard to forget his own past...
Sunday, July 3, 2011
solar eclipse
could i sit here and pretend i knew what he was thinking all those years ago, on the bottom bench of the orange lacquered bleachers of our squeaky, high school gym, scared and drenched in his own sweat?
i suppose i could. i suppose i don't need to pretend.
the boy who should have grown up next to us but his daddy was afraid to stick him in a taxi to send him off to the school across town, his dad convinced all taxi drivers were child molesters. the boy who started high school with us at the public school but after a short while transfered to the catholic school because their basketball program was way better, and he would get more exposure playing with a better team, get a free ride to university, which was probably true, and probably happened.
now he is grown and teaching school in a town i lived in only a few years back, living around the corner from my old flat, eating the same pizza and jogging the same riverside trails.
and whenever we return to the town where we grew up, at the same time, tucking ourselves in the awkward spaces of our childhood homes, we escape to the same bars with the same group of friends and acquaintances. like that Christmas he came back from Asia with all that hair and exuberance and I couldn't stop staring at him and it was too late because that boy on the bench had grown up and so had i, and our lives, when they did overlap, only overlapped for the briefest of moments, like a solar eclipse, and not enough for anything more than a vague acquaintance and a few isolated conversations, a handful a decade, where he dazzles me, having grown tall and learned to curb the teenage stink, and where perhaps, if i am lucky, i dazzle him too.
i suppose i could. i suppose i don't need to pretend.
the boy who should have grown up next to us but his daddy was afraid to stick him in a taxi to send him off to the school across town, his dad convinced all taxi drivers were child molesters. the boy who started high school with us at the public school but after a short while transfered to the catholic school because their basketball program was way better, and he would get more exposure playing with a better team, get a free ride to university, which was probably true, and probably happened.
now he is grown and teaching school in a town i lived in only a few years back, living around the corner from my old flat, eating the same pizza and jogging the same riverside trails.
and whenever we return to the town where we grew up, at the same time, tucking ourselves in the awkward spaces of our childhood homes, we escape to the same bars with the same group of friends and acquaintances. like that Christmas he came back from Asia with all that hair and exuberance and I couldn't stop staring at him and it was too late because that boy on the bench had grown up and so had i, and our lives, when they did overlap, only overlapped for the briefest of moments, like a solar eclipse, and not enough for anything more than a vague acquaintance and a few isolated conversations, a handful a decade, where he dazzles me, having grown tall and learned to curb the teenage stink, and where perhaps, if i am lucky, i dazzle him too.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
random
spent the entire day trying not to barf. so over school and everything about it. too (whats the word for i just dont care anymore)
came home and slept for hours and
i dreamt there was a tree on fire in peterborough in a backyard where we used to have keg parties and i rushed to try and put it out but it happened all on its own
came home and slept for hours and
i dreamt there was a tree on fire in peterborough in a backyard where we used to have keg parties and i rushed to try and put it out but it happened all on its own
Monday, March 28, 2011
Some teeny-bop dream i had..
.. kind of twisted, romantic coming of age shit..
Fiction Alert!
The time at the grocery after school...two weeks to graduation. Dave, shy skater Dave, nervous shrugging Dave with the huge dark blue eyes and the quiet stutter, Dave who talked to her for hours on the telephone but had only ever held her hand. She was with him that day - witnessed something barbaric inside of him emerge and quickly vanish.
The kid followed them and egged them on the entire way to the grocery, and somehow it attracted a lot of attention and then there was a crowd and the crowd became this pulsating force, this mob of: "why are you letting this shit-head say this stuff to you Dave?" The kid wouldn't stop. he was begging for it, the mob said, "beat him Dave. You are being a pussy Dave, beat this dickwads face in". And he did. a fury of punches, nothing fancy, nothing dirty, just well placed punches, and he almost didn't stop but she was screaming, blurred, she knew he would regret it...she was screaming for him to stop and he did.
he took some hits too, was pushed into a shopping cart, off balance, winded him..but not as much as the little shit who had started it all. (Dave would later recall the sensation of the other boys jaw breaking under his knuckles, and become nauseated with the memory.)
by the end of it, his mother had been called and she came in her rusty white buick to gather her youngest son.
The girl went with them and Dave cried blood into her lap in the back seat. His mother smoked a cigarette and watched the tenderness of the girl in the rear-view mirror.
******
at home in the dishevelment of the rented white Victorian with lopsided porch and forever slamming front door, Dave's mother's boyfriend sits at the table with a beer and looks up as they arrive but Dave's mother shushed him and points the girl down the hall of this beautiful, dirty house where the bedroom doors never quite stay shut and the whitewash of the walls never quite stays white.. the girl nods and half carries Dave to the bathroom down the wooden hall and holds his hand under the water spout watching the rivulets of blood weave down his fingers to the drain. his liquid blue eyes are large and amazed in the dusty oval mirror. he doesn't talk much because when he does it's never anything that matters, he wants it to matter, feels like it should matter but it's stuttered silliness when it comes out.
*****
when he first came to high school his older brother got up and played the guitar and sang Imagine by the Beatles in front of the entire school, Dave just sat there big eyed and wished he could say it like that one day too. Hasn't yet.
****
the lockers at school are not big enough to fit the burden of youth. weren't when they were in 9th grade and still aren't now. they spill hidden bottles of booze and soiled gym clothes and he can never quite remember the combination until the last moment and he can never quite get it closed, can never erase the graffiti.
*****
she holds him all night while he sobs in the cold stillness of his bedroom because she knows he is horrified, sweet dave who has never hurt a fly, knows he will have bad dreams and wake up hating himself. she is not sure if he will remember but in his despair he kisses her three times on the lips as if gasping for air, (of course he will remember) each time more natural, more tender. he has never kissed her before. never kissed anyone. she smiles through the soft swell of his lips and tucks herself around his delirious warmth.
she watches him....watches day arrive opalescent gray through the window..the same trees sway outside and things will never be the same..
Fiction Alert!
The time at the grocery after school...two weeks to graduation. Dave, shy skater Dave, nervous shrugging Dave with the huge dark blue eyes and the quiet stutter, Dave who talked to her for hours on the telephone but had only ever held her hand. She was with him that day - witnessed something barbaric inside of him emerge and quickly vanish.
The kid followed them and egged them on the entire way to the grocery, and somehow it attracted a lot of attention and then there was a crowd and the crowd became this pulsating force, this mob of: "why are you letting this shit-head say this stuff to you Dave?" The kid wouldn't stop. he was begging for it, the mob said, "beat him Dave. You are being a pussy Dave, beat this dickwads face in". And he did. a fury of punches, nothing fancy, nothing dirty, just well placed punches, and he almost didn't stop but she was screaming, blurred, she knew he would regret it...she was screaming for him to stop and he did.
he took some hits too, was pushed into a shopping cart, off balance, winded him..but not as much as the little shit who had started it all. (Dave would later recall the sensation of the other boys jaw breaking under his knuckles, and become nauseated with the memory.)
by the end of it, his mother had been called and she came in her rusty white buick to gather her youngest son.
The girl went with them and Dave cried blood into her lap in the back seat. His mother smoked a cigarette and watched the tenderness of the girl in the rear-view mirror.
******
at home in the dishevelment of the rented white Victorian with lopsided porch and forever slamming front door, Dave's mother's boyfriend sits at the table with a beer and looks up as they arrive but Dave's mother shushed him and points the girl down the hall of this beautiful, dirty house where the bedroom doors never quite stay shut and the whitewash of the walls never quite stays white.. the girl nods and half carries Dave to the bathroom down the wooden hall and holds his hand under the water spout watching the rivulets of blood weave down his fingers to the drain. his liquid blue eyes are large and amazed in the dusty oval mirror. he doesn't talk much because when he does it's never anything that matters, he wants it to matter, feels like it should matter but it's stuttered silliness when it comes out.
*****
when he first came to high school his older brother got up and played the guitar and sang Imagine by the Beatles in front of the entire school, Dave just sat there big eyed and wished he could say it like that one day too. Hasn't yet.
****
the lockers at school are not big enough to fit the burden of youth. weren't when they were in 9th grade and still aren't now. they spill hidden bottles of booze and soiled gym clothes and he can never quite remember the combination until the last moment and he can never quite get it closed, can never erase the graffiti.
*****
she holds him all night while he sobs in the cold stillness of his bedroom because she knows he is horrified, sweet dave who has never hurt a fly, knows he will have bad dreams and wake up hating himself. she is not sure if he will remember but in his despair he kisses her three times on the lips as if gasping for air, (of course he will remember) each time more natural, more tender. he has never kissed her before. never kissed anyone. she smiles through the soft swell of his lips and tucks herself around his delirious warmth.
she watches him....watches day arrive opalescent gray through the window..the same trees sway outside and things will never be the same..
blogtrospection
Back up for a second. Sometimes I write like a late 90s born text whore, as evidenced by the last post. But sometimes that is the only way I get anything out. Not sure if this is a good thing; the writers at the Banff School in the 70s thought so. They called it freefall. W.O. Mithell was really into it. It was more of a launching pad for actual prose though, not meant to be published, not even meant as a first draft really, just meant to get the juices flowing.
Are blogs supposed to be finished? are blogs ever a finished product? can the seams show to ensure fertility of thought? For now I think so.
Are blogs supposed to be finished? are blogs ever a finished product? can the seams show to ensure fertility of thought? For now I think so.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
happy happy yey
I want to turn this into less of an outlet for my meaningless bitching.
This may be the end. hhahahahahahaha
Whateves, positive stuff is fun to write about too, I guess. Like how awesome the barn i work at is. Yeah. Love it, love the people, love the horses and how there are dogs and cats running around everywhere and beautiful fields and trees.
I am going to apply for an office assistant/ communications job with a non-for profit sled dog racing organization for the summer. super stoked abuot that. Such a cliche for the yukon, but i have sort have come around to cliches since my hatred for them in my journalism days. They become cliches for a reason, because they are true. why fix it if it aint broke. see, a good cliche to explain what i mean.
my story has been germinating within me of late i have so many secret ideas. i wish I had time to write.. maybe i'll put some down in here.
so my last day off (without school or work was MArch 4 and my next one is easter friday (good friday?) damn right it will be a good friday. I may cook a huge pot of mac and cheese, the presidents choice white kind, and sit in bed reading all day. I will wear a diaper so i don't have to get up. put one on the dog too so he doesn't have to go outside.. hahahaha oh DEUSCZ! that is one of squanch and i's words we made up in our lingo. we have a ton.
lalalalalal staying happy YAY!~ I will just icnore all the annoying ass-hats tomorrow, which means i may have to go though the day mute and deafen myself with my earplugs. There is a deaf girl in my class. I am so JEALOUS! sorta, not really. I can handle being selectively deaf... music is important to me (used to be more so, still is but i don't have the time for anything other than bob macowitch in the morning and rich terfry at night on the radio.
I'm going to go to CBC and do that compass thing to figure out what my political sway is. Pretty sure it will be Bloc Quebecsquaw. yeah, that's right, you wanna leave bitches, then leave. i throw a vote behind seperatism. kidding, i love quebec and want them to stay but it's kinda twisted a complicated kind of love like the love for a red headed stepchild.. haha philip on survivor looks like a black mr burns.
This may be the end. hhahahahahahaha
Whateves, positive stuff is fun to write about too, I guess. Like how awesome the barn i work at is. Yeah. Love it, love the people, love the horses and how there are dogs and cats running around everywhere and beautiful fields and trees.
I am going to apply for an office assistant/ communications job with a non-for profit sled dog racing organization for the summer. super stoked abuot that. Such a cliche for the yukon, but i have sort have come around to cliches since my hatred for them in my journalism days. They become cliches for a reason, because they are true. why fix it if it aint broke. see, a good cliche to explain what i mean.
my story has been germinating within me of late i have so many secret ideas. i wish I had time to write.. maybe i'll put some down in here.
so my last day off (without school or work was MArch 4 and my next one is easter friday (good friday?) damn right it will be a good friday. I may cook a huge pot of mac and cheese, the presidents choice white kind, and sit in bed reading all day. I will wear a diaper so i don't have to get up. put one on the dog too so he doesn't have to go outside.. hahahaha oh DEUSCZ! that is one of squanch and i's words we made up in our lingo. we have a ton.
lalalalalal staying happy YAY!~ I will just icnore all the annoying ass-hats tomorrow, which means i may have to go though the day mute and deafen myself with my earplugs. There is a deaf girl in my class. I am so JEALOUS! sorta, not really. I can handle being selectively deaf... music is important to me (used to be more so, still is but i don't have the time for anything other than bob macowitch in the morning and rich terfry at night on the radio.
I'm going to go to CBC and do that compass thing to figure out what my political sway is. Pretty sure it will be Bloc Quebecsquaw. yeah, that's right, you wanna leave bitches, then leave. i throw a vote behind seperatism. kidding, i love quebec and want them to stay but it's kinda twisted a complicated kind of love like the love for a red headed stepchild.. haha philip on survivor looks like a black mr burns.
Friday, March 25, 2011
trying not to be a BIATCH!
Squanch is gone to the north for work and I am alone. I am also broke which is handy because I need to eat our house dry of all the random shit in the fridge and pantry and freezer before our sub-letters take over and rub their juices all over our stuff for four months. GWOSS!
Tonight's dinner.. egg noodrah pasta with tomato paste reconstituted with a few splashes from a bottle of red wine that was left open for a few days. and a greek salad sans feta, which is surprisingly tastier than it sounds. I threw some chic peas into both for substance. Oh and a coors light left from when my parents were here helping me with taxes last weekend.
Ok, I know i'm trying to be positive here but I have to say, I spent a few hours in the computer lab at school getting caught up on print outs and assignments and summer job searching and every five minutes some obnoxious twat would walk by dragging her feet effing loudly across the floor. Of course she was wearing Uggs. They pretty much demand that you walk around like a slob when you are wearing them. They are the stupidest, ugliest ,pieces of shit footwear I have ever seen and you look stupid and ugly in them because they the second you walk in them they are dirty.
Also, I do my tests in the test center (special room for students with "accommodations") I do it because i need quiet or else i loose my shit and don't know my name let alone the answer to a complex radiography problem. Well anyway this ogre comes in to write also and he starts drumming on the desk with his hands. He wouldn't stop. Last time i checked this wasn't a workshop for percussionists you illegitimate child between a hobbit and an ewoke! I told the lady at the counter i was moving because a percussionist was sitting beside me and the aspergers girl from my class snickered.
Speaking of aspergers girl.. I made friends with her the other day (sorta) and I was thinking to myself as I drove home "I made friends with the weird girl" and then it occurred to me that she could be telling herself the exact same thing. But yeah, honestly she is one of the only people I care to interact with from my school.
Tonight's dinner.. egg noodrah pasta with tomato paste reconstituted with a few splashes from a bottle of red wine that was left open for a few days. and a greek salad sans feta, which is surprisingly tastier than it sounds. I threw some chic peas into both for substance. Oh and a coors light left from when my parents were here helping me with taxes last weekend.
Ok, I know i'm trying to be positive here but I have to say, I spent a few hours in the computer lab at school getting caught up on print outs and assignments and summer job searching and every five minutes some obnoxious twat would walk by dragging her feet effing loudly across the floor. Of course she was wearing Uggs. They pretty much demand that you walk around like a slob when you are wearing them. They are the stupidest, ugliest ,pieces of shit footwear I have ever seen and you look stupid and ugly in them because they the second you walk in them they are dirty.
Also, I do my tests in the test center (special room for students with "accommodations") I do it because i need quiet or else i loose my shit and don't know my name let alone the answer to a complex radiography problem. Well anyway this ogre comes in to write also and he starts drumming on the desk with his hands. He wouldn't stop. Last time i checked this wasn't a workshop for percussionists you illegitimate child between a hobbit and an ewoke! I told the lady at the counter i was moving because a percussionist was sitting beside me and the aspergers girl from my class snickered.
Speaking of aspergers girl.. I made friends with her the other day (sorta) and I was thinking to myself as I drove home "I made friends with the weird girl" and then it occurred to me that she could be telling herself the exact same thing. But yeah, honestly she is one of the only people I care to interact with from my school.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
wasted hatred
I over heard someone say "me likey" today. I spun around to see who was spouting such obsolete verbal regurgitation and then had to pretend to laugh at how funny and charming she was because she noticed me noticing her and it was either that or smacking her in the annoying ass ironic glasses clad face.
Pretty sure it was a Simpson's reference and pretty sure the only people who quote the Simpsons are trying way too hard to be cool.
Pretty sure people who quote anything in day to day dialogue are trying way to hard to be cool. Like that chic that Squanch's best friend brought over here the other weekend who was pretending to be the starving artist meanwhile daddy pays for an internship because she doesn't have to work. sorry, no amount of strategically nonchalant boho scarves will be able to cover your fucking prada purse and fur hat you poser biatch.
So anyway, she kept engaging in conversation with the guys about world politics and bla bla bla and not once did she look at me and then she would pluck some reference out of her ass and so and so scholar said this about that and I am brilliant and then look at squanch like she wanted some kind of reassurence that he thought she was smart and the whole time I was just knowing that he was thinking she was a pompous twat same as what i was thinking.
there was this feminist feeling i got from her but instead of being happy to be a strong intelligent woman she was trying to prove herself to have a dick and that it was bigger than squanchs dick, which is impossible if you ask me.
She actually bragged to the cashier at the grocery store that Squanch's friend was a poet.. haha I bet she has all kinds of fantasies about how she is slumming with a ginger, woodsy, philosopher poet. too bad he will be writing poems in spooge on the walls of the tents of whatever girls take his fancy at planting this season.
woah rant.
so much angers me these days.I know it's a waste of time but i need it out of my head so i can get on with everything else
Pretty sure it was a Simpson's reference and pretty sure the only people who quote the Simpsons are trying way too hard to be cool.
Pretty sure people who quote anything in day to day dialogue are trying way to hard to be cool. Like that chic that Squanch's best friend brought over here the other weekend who was pretending to be the starving artist meanwhile daddy pays for an internship because she doesn't have to work. sorry, no amount of strategically nonchalant boho scarves will be able to cover your fucking prada purse and fur hat you poser biatch.
So anyway, she kept engaging in conversation with the guys about world politics and bla bla bla and not once did she look at me and then she would pluck some reference out of her ass and so and so scholar said this about that and I am brilliant and then look at squanch like she wanted some kind of reassurence that he thought she was smart and the whole time I was just knowing that he was thinking she was a pompous twat same as what i was thinking.
there was this feminist feeling i got from her but instead of being happy to be a strong intelligent woman she was trying to prove herself to have a dick and that it was bigger than squanchs dick, which is impossible if you ask me.
She actually bragged to the cashier at the grocery store that Squanch's friend was a poet.. haha I bet she has all kinds of fantasies about how she is slumming with a ginger, woodsy, philosopher poet. too bad he will be writing poems in spooge on the walls of the tents of whatever girls take his fancy at planting this season.
woah rant.
so much angers me these days.I know it's a waste of time but i need it out of my head so i can get on with everything else
Monday, February 28, 2011
dear unnamed college,
please accept more males into the veterinary technician program. the bitches are going to drive me insane and a few more guys thrown into the mix would probably shut them up a bit. i don't care if they are gay or straight, as long as they do not have a vagina.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
ginger i once knew
the red hair and the tattoos and the spacers in the ears.. freckles as frequent as the word fuck and who'd have known you hadn't been behind that bar in Calgary all your life, born behind the bar, squirted out from between some drunken woman's legs into a pint glass.....
GWOSCH
GWOSCH
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
i'm studying so you're studying
pots and pots of tea.. but not so much that you need to pee all the time.. (only every 30 mins :)and not caffeinated after 6pm because you need your sleep. peppermint is great as it stimulates the memory and calms those tummy jitters. yes I just said tummy.
highlighters and multicolored page darts and pens and pencils and cue cards and whatever superfluous stationary supplies you feel you need to feel adequately armed to attack dense material such as the veterinary hematological exam.
ambient music without words, or music with words that you do not already know the words too, and especially not music from a band containing (a) member(s) you have slept with.\
rules like no internets, phone, and other distractions for the 25 to 30 minute blitzes you will be studying.
5 min breaks with snacks, more tea, peeing and such... you will be suprised how much you will crave returning to your material!!!
repeat this often. write as you study..do not just read.. keep a positive attitude..
use a scented oil while you study adn also while you write the test to bring back the memories.. or chew the same flaour of gum to bring you back to the mindset of your studying:)
sunshine!
highlighters and multicolored page darts and pens and pencils and cue cards and whatever superfluous stationary supplies you feel you need to feel adequately armed to attack dense material such as the veterinary hematological exam.
ambient music without words, or music with words that you do not already know the words too, and especially not music from a band containing (a) member(s) you have slept with.\
rules like no internets, phone, and other distractions for the 25 to 30 minute blitzes you will be studying.
5 min breaks with snacks, more tea, peeing and such... you will be suprised how much you will crave returning to your material!!!
repeat this often. write as you study..do not just read.. keep a positive attitude..
use a scented oil while you study adn also while you write the test to bring back the memories.. or chew the same flaour of gum to bring you back to the mindset of your studying:)
sunshine!
Friday, February 18, 2011
squanch-a-medic
squanch is getting tired of not being able to find a job down here in the cityish place. he knows up north there are lots of jobs for squanches like him. he may move to far north and work as a medic there. the plan is in motion. i will go to be with him when school is done for the summer. exciting.
treeplanting journal
The dust from the logging roads coats my teeth, whiter now if only for the grimy tan of my face. Squished up with duffel bags and his long legs, there is silence and there is sunshine. It’s calm in this truck limbo, and I’ve been starved for calm.
The dandelions have burst forth overnight from the prairie floor. I’m planning a painting in my mind, how I’ll use an old toothbrush to splatter the yellow in atop the green grass, fluorescent in the lazy afternoon sunshine. The sky is bigger here than any sky I have ever seen. I can’t fathom a canvas big enough for the abundance of clouds, languid they lay about like corpulent Romans following a feast.
Beside me he shifts his hands on the steering wheel and I notice him noticing a bird flicking in the wind, its energy bursts through the stillness of the afternoon, but the fluidity of flight remains true to my tranquility. We do not speak.
(GP May 2009 planting journal excerpt)
meredith by the fire
At night, the sky smudged a gradient of cobalt to ash, she sits by the fire and makes an attempt at the moment. It’s all she can do. Zen falls like the crumbs from the cake of others and she’s there to catch a few in her swollen hands, savoring seconds of peace.
She’s pegged the restlessness of her mind to the vastness of her country, the never-ending possibilities of people and place; the hearts she’s broken and the hearts that have broken her and all the hearts lined up like bottles on a fence waiting for someone to pull the trigger.
Every pair of eyes she’s ever seen stay with her, become a constant presence, watching, judging, laughing. Here in the wilderness, the layers of herself have been peeled away and her soul cowers and spins, dances and winces, a grub in the sun. And she’s not sure if this means she’s lost or if it means she’s found.
(May 2009)
waiting things
Cigarettes smoke themselves
in anticipation
collars darken like the day
and still, still
boot darkened socks
wait on the floor
damp and alone.
Branches accumulate
and the open space
becomes tired and dirty
strewn with waiting things
patient like the earth
beneath fingernails
calm as the filth
in hidden crevices.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
hangin on with a thread sister
Bad Kelly and I smoked some rez darts in her car before Radiography study group and all we did was talk about how stressed we are right now and how this is the last chance for us to do something with our lives and how freaking hard it is to keep up with the workload even when all you do is school work. failure is not an option haha but something else is...
I dropped an f-bomb in my med lab the other day right as i was handing in a botched assignment, right in the teachers ear. She said I was the last person she would expect it from. I guess I blew my cover, like I forgot to shower and the stink of this nasty mouthed dart hacking, squat pissing, tree-planter came out. oops. sometimes I forget that i kinda look civilized and refined in the real world.
there are many ways you can acquire the status of pissing me off, read:
You are fat and disgusting
you talk too much too loud about asinine things (that's what blogs are for, get one)
you are arrogant
you wear retarded t-shirts that say things like "this is what awesome looks like"
you are a teenager
you drive a rental bmw suv
you wear tights as pants and really shouldn't
you still live with your parents and think life is oh so hard
you go on facebook and play games during lecture
ok this is a lot of negativity all at once, I know, I am working on it... just had to get it out of my system
I dropped an f-bomb in my med lab the other day right as i was handing in a botched assignment, right in the teachers ear. She said I was the last person she would expect it from. I guess I blew my cover, like I forgot to shower and the stink of this nasty mouthed dart hacking, squat pissing, tree-planter came out. oops. sometimes I forget that i kinda look civilized and refined in the real world.
there are many ways you can acquire the status of pissing me off, read:
You are fat and disgusting
you talk too much too loud about asinine things (that's what blogs are for, get one)
you are arrogant
you wear retarded t-shirts that say things like "this is what awesome looks like"
you are a teenager
you drive a rental bmw suv
you wear tights as pants and really shouldn't
you still live with your parents and think life is oh so hard
you go on facebook and play games during lecture
ok this is a lot of negativity all at once, I know, I am working on it... just had to get it out of my system
basement
The carpet in the basement was yellow-green and it was thread bare in the most unusual places which meant it had been somewhere else entirely before it came to lay on this concrete floor. Same with me. I was just glad to be somewhere under a roof and not tossed out to the curb.
Monday, February 7, 2011
jonny braill
Fiction Alert!
one winter i was blind and it didn't matter because you played guitar and sang and had a bed with furry sheets and the kind of stomach you don't need eyes to appreciate.
---
(oh gawd i have so many random little bits like this in my brain. so many imaginary boys swimming like so many lost sperm in my head. i'd be a writer except it would probably only be boy crazy teeny hoppers who would read my stuff. not a bad market i hear... i could just make them all vampires or wizards or the next best thing ... which i will keep to myself because it is too lucrative an idea to give away.
one winter i was blind and it didn't matter because you played guitar and sang and had a bed with furry sheets and the kind of stomach you don't need eyes to appreciate.
---
(oh gawd i have so many random little bits like this in my brain. so many imaginary boys swimming like so many lost sperm in my head. i'd be a writer except it would probably only be boy crazy teeny hoppers who would read my stuff. not a bad market i hear... i could just make them all vampires or wizards or the next best thing ... which i will keep to myself because it is too lucrative an idea to give away.
overwhelm
oh my god school is effing hard.
i can barely keep track of one course let alone all a bazillion of them
Radiography - wow. so this is why we needed to know physics. oops.
Parasitology - the eggs are fun to look at through the microscope. the worms themselves are going to make me barf something fierce one day. giant kidney worm. ya. NOTHANKYOU. I'm going to think i have everysingle one of these nasties before the year is over... just you wait until i get more blog savvy and learn how to post the lovily torture-masked-as-education videos we have to sit through without fainting.
Pharmacology - fuck fuck fuck this shit is complicated.
Math for Veterinary Technicians - easy, in theory, but the lectures are so BORING.. powerpoints for math.. come on.. what ever happened to chalk lady.. i sit there feeling so bad for the teacher because we all turn into waste-cases and secretive little digital texting daemon beep beep fbfbfbfbfbfbfbfb twits. fml. there are times i just get up and leave or else i will have a nervous breakdown
Clinical Care of Animals - This is a rather simple and fun course except that it involves shifts of feeding and caring for the lovily animals super early in the morning and if you miss or are late more than once you can pretty much say goodbye to your education and/or life. enter the anxiety i feel the night before a shift which fucks me up for the rest of the week and turns me into an amoeba/starfish/never putting out again exhaustion chalice wearing a-sexual sac of sleep.
Thank god for spending $40,000+ on a BA because now i don't have to take general ed courses which would sink this fucking ship.
Love the weekend job at the horse farm, but man, all this shit is close to too much.
i can barely keep track of one course let alone all a bazillion of them
Radiography - wow. so this is why we needed to know physics. oops.
Parasitology - the eggs are fun to look at through the microscope. the worms themselves are going to make me barf something fierce one day. giant kidney worm. ya. NOTHANKYOU. I'm going to think i have everysingle one of these nasties before the year is over... just you wait until i get more blog savvy and learn how to post the lovily torture-masked-as-education videos we have to sit through without fainting.
Pharmacology - fuck fuck fuck this shit is complicated.
Math for Veterinary Technicians - easy, in theory, but the lectures are so BORING.. powerpoints for math.. come on.. what ever happened to chalk lady.. i sit there feeling so bad for the teacher because we all turn into waste-cases and secretive little digital texting daemon beep beep fbfbfbfbfbfbfbfb twits. fml. there are times i just get up and leave or else i will have a nervous breakdown
Clinical Care of Animals - This is a rather simple and fun course except that it involves shifts of feeding and caring for the lovily animals super early in the morning and if you miss or are late more than once you can pretty much say goodbye to your education and/or life. enter the anxiety i feel the night before a shift which fucks me up for the rest of the week and turns me into an amoeba/starfish/never putting out again exhaustion chalice wearing a-sexual sac of sleep.
Thank god for spending $40,000+ on a BA because now i don't have to take general ed courses which would sink this fucking ship.
Love the weekend job at the horse farm, but man, all this shit is close to too much.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
looking for the perfect man?
do what i did:
step 1: go treeplanting under the guise of making money and finding yourself and becomming one with the natureness of canada.
step 2: find a samsquanch
step 3: shave said samsquanch
volia!
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Goodmorning (I've missed my make believe people)
When Lily slips out in the early morning she finds Arden elbow deep in the engine of his truck. He's got smudges of black car blood mingling with the tattoo on his arm, creating a whole new design. He scoops her up into an embrace, her feet dangling off the ground sway and she can smell the engine oil and him, completely enclosed, unable to move, not wanting to. She listens to his whispers and could stay there in this floating limbo of embrace forever.
Monday, January 31, 2011
salty mcnulty
wanted to shake you and scream that the high level of functioning you exhibit, despite the brick wall of debauchery around you makes me grieve everything extraordinary you are not accomplishing. and i don't even know you. i'm going to change your name to Doolots and beat the irishness out of you one of these days.
oops
"I hate convention."
( There is a book on my shelf about how hating convention has become conventional. )
( There is a book on my shelf about how hating convention has become conventional. )
Friday, January 28, 2011
bigfoot impress
Mansquanch had a big interview yesterday and came home buzzing and excited and full of knowing that he impressed them.
I am proud of my dashing paramedic.
I am proud of my dashing paramedic.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Zen and the Art of too many bitches
Being in a program with 150 other chicks is infuriating on a daily basis for so many different reasons. The passive-aggressive, nonchalant alpha female, panties in a wad, I know everything and I am not getting my way wah wah wahing has to stop or I am going to go insane.
There is a reason I went into the veterinary field and it's not my love of people.
Yoga is the only thing keeping me from flipping out on these twats.
Ohm muthafucker Ohm
There is a reason I went into the veterinary field and it's not my love of people.
Yoga is the only thing keeping me from flipping out on these twats.
Ohm muthafucker Ohm
Sunday, January 23, 2011
flood
So the other morning when I woke up to the sound of water and thought it was the rain outside my bedroom window, well, it wasn't the rain. It was a burst pipe in the apartment below us where the rodentia couple live. They have been on their little rodentia vacation for about a week now and while they were gone their little rodentia world got a bit wet.
We alerted our landlord when we noticed our water pressure had become super low. My Manquanch had a shower and it was just drip drip... Type A landlord brushed it off as probably the city and the construction But later that day Squanch discovered a river of ice flowing from one of the rodentia's window sills and called the landlord who freaked and came up from the city to check it out. All I could hear from up stairs when he finally arrived was "OH SHIT. Oh man-o-man o-man." I was just waiting for the F-bombs and they eventually came but only after I thought the poor man was going to burst into tears as he dialed every plumber he knew and kept getting no response. Rodentia have no idea life as they know it has changed and are off in rodentia lala land. I hope they have renters insurance, but who ever does?
my equestrian dog
The dog came with me to the barn today. Two amazing parts of my life colliding and it worked out wonderfully. Welli got to run around like a maniac and meet all kinds of creatures and people, and I got the satisfaction of being able to bring my dog to work with me. He was hilariously afraid of the horses at first, and I was worried he would be an idiot like that one time he chased one of the therapeutic riding academy horses through an electric fence when I was helping with the lessons. Good thing all the riders had gone home by then or I would have been in SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!
But yeah, it worked out so well having the little fella with me I think I will bring him every weekend now. He's going to be an equestrian before I know it!
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
conflict-free ziptie
Got the news from my pseudo-hippie University roommate that she is engaged. She tells me her fiance made sure to ask for her if the diamonds were Canadian and conflict free. I guess everyone has to sleep at night somehow and if this is what works for them then, sure.
I don't have to worry about blood diamonds because my engagement ring is a ziptie. And, Yeah, the thing cops use to mass-cuff the cuttoff wearing "bystanders" at the g-15 whatever this summer.
Ziptie. At a planting camp these little buggers are indispensable. Especially when the supervisor, (my fiance) becomes so enamored by the cook (me) that he decides to lock down her and her meal-making abilities for good. I was eating water-mellon on my cook shack porch waiting for muffins to rise when he came back to camp to get something and that's when it happened...
Enough about me. So, I went to tell the news to my other best friend from university but i dawdled because she is not yet engaged and has been with her boyfriend since forever. And yeah, I admit, if i wasn't engaged I would probably, deep down, be pissed to hear this news just as i am secretly ticked when i find out people are pregnant ("accidental" pregnancy really pisses me off especially as i do not believe it is possible but more on this later) so I'm still talking about me. So, yeah, I probably just ruined my other friends day... but the news had to come to her somehow. Sorry blondie...
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
melt mothafucka melt
It sounds like wet outside this morning and it is tricking me into believing it is spring. I'm not excited in the way that I usually am for spring, hyped up to get the fuck out of the city and into the bush for 4 months of alternate reality- planting trees and being dirty and surrounded by 50 alcoholic pot-head peter-pan forever-life crisisers.
no, we are not going treeplanting. we have escaped the cult. (my decade in the bush treeplanter partner and i who have collectively placed in the ground 1, 000, 000 lucky little saplings)
He is so close to finally getting a job (paramedic) and I am so happy being surrounded by animals all day and planting is just a blip on our life radar, a fun story to tell people as to how we met (he was my supervisor and i spent an entire summer pine-ing over him...bahaha)
Plus, I think this winter we have planted more than trees, but of course i always think that (but this month my breasts have been swollen for weeks) (i should take a photo, apparently people are into boobs).
I'm excited for spring because it means I won't be cold all the time, instead i will be wraped up in the warm cozy duvet of life instead of in bed shivering on a Tuesday morning. Lakes and beaches and sunshine and horseback riding without snot-cicles. canoe. canoe. canoe. and wild berries and daisies.
MELT mothafucka MELT
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)