Saturday September 12, 2015
I think Luke heard it from his dad or something. Luke is always coming into class with his big words and his big hate and it sounds like stuff his dad says. My dad says that Luke’s dad is a vessel of pure sadness. I don’t get how he thinks he’s sad, cause Luke’s dad is always yelling and screaming and swearing and stuff and that seems like he’s pretty angry to me. Sad is when you cry and when your nose leaks and your stomach gets that empty feeling. How do you get that sad empty feeling when you’re always filling your stomach with cans of beer?
Luke is always saying things to me or to Ruby about our skin and about our voices. He laughs and his face goes all red when he holds my arms behind my back and calls me a “terrorist.”
Sunday March 30, 2014
Westjet In-flight magazine
I’m happy to report that I’m leaving. I’m leaving this town. I’m leaving my job. I’m leaving my life. I’m leaving my rotten running shoes. I’m leaving my favourite tree in the city. I’m going. I’m going to a new place. I’m going to be happy. I’m going to start over. I’m going to find a human I can love more than myself. I’m going to dye my hair the colour of autumn.
I’m learning. I’m changing. I’m growing. I’m committing. I’m living.
It took a long time for me to decide.
Mostly because I hate flying. I hate waiting. I hate the pressure building in my sinuses. I hate the people who bring their uncomfortable babies. I hate the idea of having to sit in an aisle seat and get my elbows bashed in by someone named Darla or Emmanuel.
Thursday, July 11, 2013 at Ka Chi
Blue Moon Girls postcard
There was a cat with a broken leg begging to get into my house. I told him to fuck off and to stop being such a creep. It’s not his house–the cat’s house is literally anywhere with moderate warmth and humans. Maybe he’d be wrong about me anyway, so I don’t feel bad. He’d come seeking refuge and some love and I just don’t have any of that to give right now. Not enough for a persistent cat, at least. Another day I saw the same pathetic cat begging for a hand out on the corner of my street and I looked at him and just said, “Get a job.” you know? Am I supposed to spend my hard earned money on baby mice and like tuna for this thing? I never a had a cat. I don’t know what they eat but I bet it’s expensive. Especially if they have a broken leg, just limping everywhere trying to tug on someone’s heart strings long enough to be pet and scratched. He’s there every day at my door. I think about letting him in and then the phone rings and I forget about that.