Wednesday January 30, 2019
Richard Christian Matheson
It wasn’t my fault. Coach was bullshit. I tried telling Stevie and Jay from the get-go that Coach was a turd, didn’t know what she was talking about, didn’t know her ass from the ball… Nobody listened to me! We had a good reputation, man, I mean, we weren’t seven time champions but we gave Crescent Hill a run for their money every year! When Coach Peterson retired I knew we were effed. I’d seen Coach Jenkins sniffing around the court, trying to butter up the team, trying to use her jokes to make everyone like her. I’m not gonna fall for that shit!
Wednesday January 2, 2019
Living the Wisdom of the Tao
Dr. Wayne W. Dyer
It’s okay, I mean, I’m okay. Things are okay, Brad, I don’t know what you want me to say… Everyone is happy sometimes and sad sometimes, right?! It’s not even about the balance of being happy and sad I don’t think… It’s about the quality of the feelings. Like, when you’re happy, are you really free? Is there still a little balloon in your chest slowly deflating? Don’t lie to yourself about it. No point in lying about that little balloon, she probably just needs acknowledgement! When you’re sad are you really letting yourself, like, go there? Are you crying and stuff? I don’t know how to take how you’re looking at me… We haven’t seen each other in, like, three years, and now you’re acting all concerned? Sometimes I’m really happy. Sometimes I’m really sad. That’s it.
Wednesday September 12, 2018
Mr. Bright Eyes
Who had the bright idea to go to Target and buy a 12 pack of Miller Lite? Must have been you since you’re the only one drinking Miller Lite these days. Me, I can’t swallow the stuff. Not just Miller Lite, but beer. The only thing they drink here. Not beer as in here take a sip, take a load off, take the edge off. Beer as in, here, here, here, and here, and more, and more, and more, and here. I can’t do it like that. I was told not to. My body has been trying to remind me that. You wouldn’t want me that way anyway. Those days when I used to drink beer and beer and here and here I wouldn’t know where here was or me, or my desires. I don’t recognize the person who used to drink in the shower, before the comedy show, before leaving the house. I could ask us to stay in one night, have a quiet evening sipping whiskey but, you are not the kind of person who sips anything. You like the feeling of being tipsy with me, but I can’t seem to get there anymore without losing myself. I don’t like the action of sipping things when I am simply not thirsty.
My guts have been full since I got here. You had a Miller Lite in the closet yesterday and I had one more reason to stop. The dreams come worse when I’ve been filling all the holes with the wrong kind of gold. The kind that costs four dollars at Target.
Thursday April 26, 2018
If you call me and I can’t pick up but I CALL YOU RIGHT BACK
as in I do not let you finish your voicemail
as in your phone should still be open on my number
can I just ask one little question?
WHERE THE EFF ARE YOU?
Seconds have past
Has the urgency left?
Are you passed out, dead, on the phone with someone else?
Is your ringer on?
Would you like to join the conversation?
Here’s my two cents
People who call you and then have their phone on silent
shouldn’t be allowed to own a phone
They have classes for driving a car
And if you don’t pass, you don’t drive
You should have to take a test for the use of your dinky cell phone
“Oh I don’t know how that happened, that’s weird, it was in my pocket”
I don’t want to have to wait to talk to you
if I call you I am CALLING YOU
but if you don’t pick up I will be on the phone with someone else
because you forfeit the right to speak with me and I have shit to discuss
I hope you’re not dead
Wednesday April 11, 2018
You’re online again because that’s where the answers are. That’s where you’re allowed to be sick. Because the forums are full of people like you looking for inches to turn into miles. Itches to turn into conditions and you’re convinced you’ve been cut by the hidden incision bit by the bug that borrows its fangs into your skin and then buries its offspring underneath it. You’re sick and you know it. The rash you developed shows it, the hard lump in your throat chose itself and you tell the world you did not make this up. Where all the people like you play, looking to lose at another game, maybe this way you will have something to blame for the wrong going on in your life. The invisible pains, come and go strains, the ones that buy you sympathy and community and attention.
Thursday June 22, 2017
from a sign
back to school
time to learn some things
how to deal with disappointment
how to deal with spending all the money on all the things that end up being disappointing
how to deal
how to be okay with the bruises that come from chasing perfection
how to be okay with taking ownership for all the mistakes
how to smile at the next person so
one bad day doesn’t bleed into another
how to fight the urge to cry on a bus so no one sees
how to cry on a bus so no one sees
how to cry only enough for release and not for pouchy eye bags
back to school
time to learn some things
Wednesday June 21, 2017
from an interview with Lidia Yuknavitch on http://www.bloom-site.com
Horay, you fixed the bed. Now our bones don’t crumple in at the meeting place. I never knew how much knee crawling I do until receieving the cease and desist.
It is bad for some reasons, but you don’t want to hear that because it would get in the way of you patting yourself on the back.
You don’t want to hear them but I am not built like a slow cooker. I make popcorn with my feelings. I burst through every single lid in this apartment.
I don’t like sleeping in and now I am more comfortable because my spine is no longer screaming at me. I am speaking body to body now. If you don’t want to hear how my silence stings, you better set your chest to ‘Listen.’
Monday November 28, 2016
From a feedback form
I wish I didn’t fall asleep when I read
Wish I didn’t love chocolate
Wish I didn’t need to spend a long time in the bathroom with the door closed not talking me to anyone for hours
Wish I didn’t only call my mom when I am walking somewhere
Wish I cared more about DIY
Wish I knew how to play the ukulele
Wish people asked me to sing for them
Wish I could wear sweatpants to the printers or the dentist
Wish I didn’t have a permanent retainer (or two) (for flossing)
Wish flossing was stupidly enjoyable
Wish someone could squeeze me all day
Wish someone would squeeze me all night
Wish I never needed to consult the Internet for recipes
Or scrabble words
Or origins of weird sayings
Wish I was born in a different decade
Or area code
Wednesday October 19, 2016
from a text
Oh no! Me? I’m THRILLED to stay at home laying on the hard wood floor instead of watching Lauryn Hill and being changed for the better. Trust me. I couldn’t be happier that my back is no longer functioning enough to hold me vertical and allow for even the most casual of swaying. I tell myself I will get an opportunity like this again and not to worry. And not to cry because crying hurts my entire body. My sister’s voice on the phone echoes off the floor. She yells at me to stay strong and to remember how many people wouldn’t dare complain about much worse. I don’t know what the fuck that means. I am missing Lauryn Fucking Hill. I don’t even have a good reason. Slipping on a patch of ice is not a good reason!
Thursday August 25, 2016
from a TMZ video
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:
I am not celebrating my birthday this year.
I AM NOT CELEBRATING MY BIRTHDAY THIS YEAR.
So. You can all go back to what you were doing. WHAT wERe YoU DOinG AnyWAY?? Celebrating something else?? Probably anything else??
I am very upset.
UPset. UPset. because. BECAUSE: I WAS Set Up. That is the truth. TO FAIL. set up to fail and to deal with the repercussions on my oWN. Which is painful. I mISs My Sister.
I miss her laugh. I miss her handssssssss.
And they want me to KEEP PUSHING?
How far before I am edging off the face of this planet? How FAR BEFORE I AM JUST Another NEWs STORy. This Just In: Everything is wrong and nothing is right and someone who needs those things to be switched is feeling the sadness of losing someone close and needs to be held but people are afraid and needs to be told IT IS GOING TO BE OKAY by someone WHO KNOWS and by someone who Won’t Turn It Into A Media Scandal.
I am not celebrating my birthday this year. I have disappointed everyone and nobody will come and everyone is mad and nobody can fix broken with cake.
Monday November 2, 2015
from the post for an English tutor
Ok, hi, can I ask you a favour? My sister, Mandy is in desperate need of assistance and I do not know if I alone can assist her. Maybe if I explain to you her issues, you’ll be able to better asses if you, in fact, can lend your help, or if you my know someone who is better equipped to deal with the inner workings of a twelve year old than you or I both are.
Ok, so, realistically speaking, she is unable to remember daily routine information. She does not know the names of her teachers, or if she has been using the blue toothbrush or the yellow one, even though all our lives we have had our very specific colours. She no longer enjoys watching reruns of Punky Brewster, which was her ever-living favourite television program of all time.
She also refuses to practice her times tables or eat ricotta cheese!
Sunday November 1, 2015
An ad for a Life Coach
The back of my computer is covered in chocolate icing because…well fuck, because, obviously. It’s been a hard month, alright, I admit that. It’s been one of those times in my life that sounds great on paper–if you get off on misery and if you romanticize inadequacy. I’d like to say that I was surprised to find myself in this situation, but the truth is, I have expected it to come at one point or another because I have never really not been the type to somehow find ninety-nine cent frosting bits smeared across my laptop. Yes it was ninety-nine cents, yes I ate it with my hands, yes I ate it in under four days, yes I did this completely on my own, and yes I enjoyed it and felt that it was, at particular wee hours of the morning, a truly smart decision…
These are tough times.
Saturday, July 18, 2015
From an email
No need to hurry, Si. You’ll trip! Your shoelaces are undone… Silas! Shit. Come here. Come here. You’re alright, you’ll be alright. Shhh… Sh… Mikey and Lizz are coming for supper. What shall we make. Burritos? How bout burritos? And you and Mikey can have fizzies and me and Lizz will have grown-up fizzes with wine. Oh. I guess we should stop at the liquor store, then. Or… No, can’t ask Lizz to bring, she’s always so low on cash. Not sure why she doesn’t ask Greg for more spending money. It’s not like he doesn’t have more than enough! And then he takes the kids to Marine Land and gets all the glory while Lizz is left – … Silas? Nevermind. Honey, don’t pick that up. That’s garbage! SILAS! Don’t you dare put that in your mouth. There’ll be no fizzy for you!
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Conversations with Anne
Hi! Oh there are so many of you! Such a good looking group, and I swear I’m not just saying that. I don’t tell everyone that. I don’t think it’s fair to give people false interpretations of themselves. If it’s not a good looking group, I just avoid the topic entirely. But you. You are a stunning piece of work, and you should know that you are because everyone should hear it if it’s true. I don’t like when people go crazy for babies even if they’re not cute. Some people say the mothers always think their kid is cute but what about the truly ugly infants? I’m not trying to be cruel, but my friends, I value authenticity; I value reality. How does a mother look at her ugly kid and still make claims that he or she is adorable. Okay okay I know what you’re thinking, “she’s an asshole, she must be dealing with some childhood trauma, or self-image issues.” I can assure you, and maybe I should be lying here, that I do just simply hate people who won’t see the truth.
Friday, June 5, 2015 at Bicerin
from a text
Oh you want me to start with you? Tell you all the things you could be “working on?” How bout you just fucking man up and look around you for once in your life. Maybe just take two seconds to acknowledge that there are other people in the room, that I’m in the room. did you think to ask how I was doing? Did you think to maybe put aside your own needs for somebody else? Don’t answer those…They’re what we call “rhetorical questions”. They don’t need answers because I KNOW THE ANSWERS. You keep disappointing me. Do you know that that’s what you’re doing? Don’t answer that either.
I told you I didn’t want to start because I knew I would get petty and start naming off all the shit I think you’ve fucked up. I don’t think I’ve even asked you for that much and you still make it feel like I’m begging for the moon. I don’t want the fucking moon, okay, all I want is a little common courtesy. Or..I don’t know, not common. Special courtesy for once would actually be very nice, seeing as though you subscribe to the notion that the other kind is too common to even give to me.
Thursday May 7, 2015
Community service. As if I should have to serve the community for doing one thing against the legal system. Like one tiny thing, and they make you serve the entire community with your penance and your time and your new shame. There are so many people doing illegal and stupid things. SO MANY. They’re not serving the community, they’re not even worried about having to. I mean, a service to my community would be warning everybody about where not to smoke hash in this city. Tell people where not to speed. Now these are services people want. The community doesn’t give a flying fuck if I rake up some completely docile leaves. Leaves don’t bother people, why is that one of the tasks? The community doesn’t care if I scoop up all the trash in the park. There are city people who get PAID to do that so they’re not going to suddenly feel like a big weight’s been lifted off them if I, the apparently guilty, offer a bunch of hours to essentially take away job opportunities from someone who actually needs the work.
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
Better Have My Money
Went to the mailbox today. Noticed all my letters were soaked right through. Holes. I chalk it up to holes. I expect this shitbox house I am living in with its shitbox buzzing refrigerator and its shitbox screaming radiators and its shitbox location right beside not one but TWO railway tracks to also have a leaky shitbox mail collector. I have no more hopes for myself. I’m at what you would call, rock bottom. And no, though you think it might, it doesn’t feel good. Sorry I get sarcastic when I’ve slept for only 3 hours because my shitbox neighbours were up until sunrise playing a death metal rendition of The Itsy Bitsy Spider. I LOVE MY LIFE.
Wednesday April 1, 2015
I have had it up to HERE with you JEFF JONES. Oh don’t smile at me you smug piece of shit, I will end you before you can even raise your eyebrows in that cocky ass way one more time. That’s right, I’m angry. I’ve said it and I stand by it. What were you thinking? Seriously, do you have an explanation or are you going to play the “This is just who I am BULLSHIT CARD?” Cause it is bullshit. You afraid or something? Is that why you’re so guarded and so resistant to help? Cause you secretly hate yourself? Well guess what, we all hate ourselves sometimes if not at all times so I don’t give a shit if you feel a little less self-love. It’s NOT AN EXCUSE, JEFF FUCKING JONES. Even your name makes me recoil. It’s such a pretentious name. You remind me of that two first names guy, Jeff David, from high school that everyone liked because he had spiky hair and a bad attitude. He was an asshole, Jeff. And just because you share the same name doesn’t mean you have to share the same behaviour. Now. Let’s discuss it. I don’t want to even HEAR any excuses!
Monday March 30, 2015 at the TPL
The BC Arts Council website
I have never been so nervous! I’m sweating behind my knees and I’m gassy like a bagel on a cow’s hip. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING? BECAUSE I CARE WAY TOO MUCH?? IS IT MY FAULT? I just want them to like me. To accept me and recognize me for my efforts. I think that’s a normal human thing to want. But this is big. It’s not just like, oh, you didn’t gain approval, it means, oh, you didn’t get funding, validation, encouragement to continue trying, etc, etc. I’m fully aware of the competition. I don’t want to be the kind of person who competes with the people out there who compete in these things for sport. But can a nobody compete against his or herself? Can this be turned into a positive somehow? I can’t think, I just want this. But did I do enough work to earn it? I don’t know, I’m sitting here waxing ridiculous to a bunch of overly medicated rich people who all equally believe that their kid deserves this over me.
Monday March 30, 2015
The BC Arts Council website
Ladies and gentlemen, theys and theirs, it is of the utmost importance that you understand that this is a highly competitive, adjudicated process. Not everyone will succeed. In fact, look around you, look at the over-plucked or unkempt eyebrows and the chapped lips and the waxy moustaches… Only a handful of these toenailed toes will make it onwards. This is not to dissuade you. This is to INSPIRE YOU! This is to set you FREE! Competition is the fire in your loins or loinettes! It’s the rumble in your belly (and not from burrito night!) It’s setting your mind to something with the whole-hearted belief that YOU CANNOT FAIL! (But you can. And you most likely will. Always allow that littttttle voice in the back of your head that says you’re a loser to taunt you and judge you and keep you in check.)
Monday February 16, 2015
Okay so I started this day with a hunger for both burgers and living my life to the fullest. I haven’t touched a burger in at least 8 months, and unfortunately I can say the same for living my life to the fullest. I wasn’t even living my life at all, so what I’m saying is that I’ve been ignoring my cravings to taste the world and touch the internal madness that drives me. I miss burgers every time I write the damn word. I miss living my life now, but before I didn’t even notice it was missing. It’s the same thing when I put all my long necklaces into a jewelry box, or shove my old notebooks into a drawer. If I don’t see them on a daily basis, I genuinely forget that they’re there. I don’t know if that’s a weak character trait passed down to me from my ancestors a thousand years ago, or if it’s just true because I’m such a wild moment to moment kind of gal (spoiler alert: it is NOT because I’m busy being present in the current anything. I wish that to be true, but it is not true. The spoiler alert is the only thing true. Because the truth is that I’m spoiling myself. This parenthetical has taken a turn for the worst. Okay just leave while there’s still a chance. Alright, forget it: I’ll go).
Sunday February 15, 2015
overheard at Caffe W
I don’t want that shit. It’s nasty! It’s sticky and it slides around my mouth like it thinks it knows where it’s going but it DON’T. You’ve got that look like I’ve said something wrong but really I’m just trying to practice truthfulness, like that stinky yoga teacher talks about. Everyone makes such a big deal about chocolate but I do not get it. I really don’t! Maybe it’s a woman thing. I’m not an oppressor of women, or anything so don’t get the wrong idea, I just know what women do around chocolate and I’ve never seen a man do that. It’s borderline sexually erotic. Chocolate is. For women. Are you gonna finish that burrito? I would. I mean, if you’re not going to. Are you coming to Becca’s Mad Men party on Saturday? I haven’t decided yet… I mean, I like an excuse to wear a suit and tie, but I’m allergic to cats and Becca has three. It’s like, either I take the anti-histamines and pray to the allergy gods that they work or I…
Wednesday January 28, 2015
Sell me your shit! I wanna make it cool! I wanna fix it! Sell it to me cheap! I can do better than you, but I’m to laz-yyyyy! Gimme dat blanket – Imma make it a pillow. BANG! Gimme dat dreamcatcher! Imma catch some real randy dreams! Sell me your shit! I’m jonesin’ for a nice hit of… STUFF! Your stuff. Your old, used, wet, wilted, sticky, sexy, slimy, gross, gorgeous stuff. Imma make a soup outta it and let that shit simmer simmer simmer. Have a garage sale, biatch, and I’ll be the only muthafuckah there!
Thursday January 22, 2015
The girl overreacted. I watched her do it. Someone cut in front of her in line at the dollar store. She reacted. It was over the top. An overreaction, you know. She looked like she was searching for answers-as if they’d come by opening and closing her eyes rapidly. I wanted to yell at her, “Hey! There’s nothing to switch on!” But it wouldn’t have been worth it. It wouldn’t have meant anything to her. I think she was just one of those empty birds, desperate to hold onto something. The type of girl who says, “I’m not much of a reader. I don’t have the attention span.” Or “I prefer audio books cause then your eyes don’t get tired.” Or “Each to his own. Each to his own.”
Thursday January 22, 2015
I’m glad that you’re living your life, Bets, but there are some of us that don’t have the privilege of touring around the the God damn world for two years! Some of us have to W-O-R-K! I know you’re pretty into being radical and telling us stories about when you stole, or ate three pizzas in one day or when you had a threesome in Venice… But, like… Do you think we actually care? I’m going to spin class and giving tired blow jobs to Ken and trying to forget about the fact that this is just the beginning of a VERY LONG WINTER. I’m really happy for you that your Instagram feed is more important than your dignity. Good for friggen you. I’m not jealous. I have no desire to abandon every single person I love for a two years of a selfish “me” party. Gag me! Gag me, Bets!
Sunday December 7, 2014
Overheard on a bridge in Venice
I’m not sure about this snap snap craze
I’m on the other side and I’ve been there for days
I dig the reclamation of representation of self
But there’s something about connection that’s up on a shelf
Looking up and down the row of face and phone
I wonder about reality, what’s here and what’s shown
Portraiture has always and forever been a thing
But the self obsession and preoccupation makes me wanna fling
My iPhone in the ocean and let it wash out to sea
I don’t need a photo to tell myself who’s me
Wednesday November 5, 2014
Overheard on Via Zamboni
I’m making small talk with a fucking Doberman, right, and like, I’m trying to look cool, but, like, probably failing. He just keeps wiggling his nose! And, like, licking his nuts! I’m like, “HELLO?! Could you just restrain yourself for two whole minutes!” I finally look up and talk to his dumb owner, this real dumb looking guy in a Blue Jays baseball hat. “How old his he?” I don’t even know why I asked that! I mean, why do I care how old this dog is? Baseball Hat looks, like, touched or something. He’s like, “Vernon is twelve.” VERNON?! Who the fuck names their dog Vernon?! I’m partial to Bud or Max or Larry. Vernon. Ha!
Thursday September 18, 2014
a Word document
Sometimes I have pretty serious questions about living. Often, they concern Instagram. Okay. I apologize in advance if this turns “rant-y” cuz that’s not usually my style but sometimes girl’s gotta preach… AMIRIGHT?
Okay. So. I’m considering taking a ‘Gram break. (That sounds like a drug break. No way that’s happening! Haha! Just kidding! I’ve been clean since May, bitches!) I’m sick and Rick (I don’t know what that means but it’s strangely humorous to me) and tired of all you fakers posting picture of your
fucking SALAD. Like, I know you be eating all the Smartfood! And your slices of cucumber?! And your half an orange?!!! LIKE, REALLY?!? And then, as if that fruit and vegetable isn’t annoying enough, what you write underneath really puts me over the GD edge. “#healthy” “#myskinisglowing” “#LIVECLEAN” GAG ME. GAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGG ME.
Not to be like, negative, cuz that’s not what this Tumblr is about, yo. Also, not to be gangsta, but that’s just, like, how this is coming out today. Funny, right? I don’t want my words to be empty so I’m gonna take a break from it. From the scrolling and the trolling (basically I’m Shakespeare) and the, like, liking shit I actually think is dumb! I’m gonna stop getting stuck in a vortex of all the photos by ex-boyfriends step-sister liked! I can’t get that time back, bitches!
Thursday June 19, 2014
killing me waiting on me to fold to fold over to bend to bend over and go and go somewhere so i can’t tell the time the time to wait to be killed or the time to wait to be kept alive
yeah she said that it was fast
on the phone
in an e-mail
i deleted it
deleted it all and all of it was killed
there was someone there giving directions to the parking lot
the parking lot of empty promises
drive away drive away away
and then i said i love you to no on in particular in particular
winding down and out and in and over and the time is out it’s running running
got on its kicks, its nike new balance its do it now it’s doing it something like that or something or other
and it’s still running because time runs it doesn’t crawl it doesn’t beg it doesn’t plead it doesn’t wait
it kills and kills and kills
i’m here on the mend on the mend and up and out bigger better things and bigger better moments
yeah he said that it was quick
on the phone
in an e-mail
i deleted it
deleted it all and all of it came right back
can’t escape the motions the slogans the misused lotions the potions the daily quotients
Sunday May 25, 2014
A sign on Queen St. West
HI, my name is HOLLY and I will be your PERSONAL ROBOT. I’m a robot I’m a GIRL ROBOT.
Just kidding. I hate robots. Like hate hate hate.
I just thought it would be a cute joke, you know, those kinds that you tell over the internet when someone e-mails you and begs for your help and you’re like, what am I a freaking computer? What is this, New Years?
That’s something my boyfriend says. What is this, New Years? I stole it, whatever. No big D.
Taryn asked me to help her do her taxes and I’ve been doing her taxes since 2009 and I’m pissed about it because it would cost her $50 freaking dollars to go to H & R Block but she’s my sister and she has a pouty face and insecurity issues and inferiority issues and self-esteem issues so I help her because I would really rather she didn’t use not knowing how to do her own taxes as a personal excuse to stop living.
Like not in a suicidal way—she’s not depressed. Not that I know of. Not that everyone who is depressed offs themselves, but like, you know what I’m saying. Whatever I’m tired, I’ve been sitting at this computer for far too long and all the words are crumbling or disappearing and I’m on my way to sleep land anyway.
I don’t know when Taryn’s going to finally just do herself a favour and open the internet to research how to do this. It’s not like she has to read a book or anything.
Monday February 24, 2014
The Laramie Project
When Capitalism is in crisis I rejoice. Fuck. What do I even mean by that. I’m not smart. I’m not a thought worthy of the name “idea”. What counts as something or nothing or… I’m not trying to impress you anymore. I’m tired of that charade.
Tonight I told a woman with fake tits and a fur scarf to Google “David Suzuki”. I made a joke about fish and then said something about my main man Suzuki and she looked at me blankly. Oh My God, I thought. She doesn’t know who the fuck that is. Oh good grief. I wrote his name on the back of a chit from the bar and said, “Google him. He’ll blow your mind.”
Monday February 3, 2014
The Essential Rumi
Rumi tr. Coleman Barks
Get on those steal toes, that hard hat, that tool belt. Get on outside where the real world fights its fights. Protected by the construction of our warm and cozy houses, we sit and we contemplate. We fear the windows when the blinds are drawn, we fear the callousness of strangers we have not yet had the pleasure of meeting. We fear the ambulance and its never-ending cries. We stay indoors, thankful for running water and a steady stream of television programs or movies ordered by e-mail. We don’t leave the couch to see the world in action outside of us. There is a whole big thing out there, and it looks just like your imagination dreams it does. Only worse. Only better. There’s no way of knowing if the dead bolt on the front door stays locked. Just a thought. Just a hunch. That we thank those pillars and roofs and hardwood floors for keeping us safe and sheltered and avoiding anything that might cause us even the slightest amount of pain. There are people living in their nightmares all around, and not in a house with books rescued from the streets. Not in a house with a pumpkin loaf baking in the oven. Not that we should choose sadness. Choose hardship. But we should not stay in our pyjamas until noon, just because our jeans are cold from the wind blowing in through the cracks.
Tuesday January 28, 2014
from a Loblaws receipt
And I would buy so many thermal things, seriously you don't even know. I would spend the $500 on a winter coat that I was denying myself before because it seemed just effing ridiculous if I couldn't even afford to pay my phone bill. I would get the warmest boots money can buy. They would be toasty and stylish. That is the dream. I would buy those hand warmer things and wear them daily and I wouldn't care about the environment because clearly the environment doesn't care about me. It would be a war on the elements and I would be a warrior for warmer temperatures, fighting only for my extremities and my facial features that can't be protected without looking like an extreme bank robber. And with the rest of the money I'd spend it on taxies so I would never have to wait in the cold for a stupid transit system to be 15 minutes later than it says it's going to be and I would be happy. And after saying all that I realize I could JUST LEAVE THIS CITY!! $2000 can get me that right??
Monday January 20, 2014 at Capital Espresso
Glad you got Toby an ant farm. Really really glad. You’re not going to have to deal with sand everywhere, and his crazy outburst when he forgets about them and they all die. Thanks for that. Really. You’re twelve months behind on child support payments, Ron. DO you know what twelve months makes? A YEAR. I could send you to jail. But I wouldn’t want to do that to Toby. I want his Daddy to be around for him. God forbid he end up like you. Next time you get him a goddamn birthday present that requires a living thing, can you just, like, okay it with me first? Please? You know that I’m going to be the one that has to clean it. Does it require cleaning? If it does, I’m going to be the one… He’s four, Ron. He just learned how to wipe his ass. Oh, and your mother can’t bring him to Florida. No way. No effing way.
Saturday January 11, 2014
from the floss threader package
Here’s the rundown of things you should know about Sally before you ever consider being friends with her. It’s crucial that you know. To avoid disappoints. To get the whole picture.
Sally likes her HEALTHY LIFE
Sally likes her CLEAN HAIR
Sally needs her PROTEIN BARS
Sally hates DUST
Sally makes PALEO PANCAKES
Sally goes to SPIN CLASS
Sally gives HANDMADE GIFTS FROM TEN THOUSAND VILLAGES
Sally feels guilty when she eats CAKE
Sally does NIA
Sally drinks GREEN JUICE
Sally takes her MULTIVITAMINS
Sally forgets about the FAIR TRADE CHOCOLATE IN HER CUPBOARD
Fucking Sally, man! I feel so bad for her I feel good for her. Good for her, with her HEALTHY LIFE. Good for her/bad for her. You know what I mean?
Sunday January 5, 2014
Suzuki GS 500 Haynes Manual
CARLA: I don’t know what that means. I really don’t. I’ve looked it up, and I mean, it’s on the internet cause everything is, but I still don’t get it. Which then makes me feel stupid and sad. Because I know I’m neither of those things but then I’m made to feel like I’m both of them and there’s no getting out. It’s weird, it’s like, saying “I don’t know” and truly not knowing is completely unacceptable to people. Why do I have to pretend to know everything, and look it all up before I send my response? To keep you guessing, to keep you thinking that I’m intelligent. Some people are just not word people, you know? Some people are really good at reading HUMAN BEINGS and THEIR BEHAVIOUR and might be legally illiterate. Is that so bad? Those people get away with not knowing and nobody says ANYTHING to them. And nobody should. Nobody should say anything to the people are “supposed” to be smart and just don’t know all the things that ever existed either, but they do. Higher standards apply to those people. The same way when a skinny person puts on even just a tiny bit of weight, everybody notices and now they get called ‘fat’. Can we do a couple things this year? Like banish the words “stupid” and “fat” because they are relative and they’re just not helping anyone? I can’t be the only one who thinks this. I’m going to look it up on the internet.
Thursday, November 28, 2013 at El Cafecito
I’ve been on a particular website, I won’t name names cause I’m embarrassed, but for maybe hours now. I haven’t eaten one single solitary thing all day, because you can’t count a decaf latte, and I don’t even feel the hunger anymore. It’s like my drive kicked in and all I need is to watch…those…videos….no, not videos! Just the “featured products” on the site….not videos! That’s stupid! There’s nothing worth talking about with regards to the videos. In fact, what videos? Ha! I’ll tell you they’d just be the regular type if they were being watched at all! I’d just have to say that the “products” being “featured” are really addictive. Sort of in a way that makes you feel satisfied and content without having to do anything yourself. And I mean, just looking at them, not watching them, because they’re not videos. Above all else I feel relief. Just a lot of relief and excitement about my next coming hours, not necessarily revolving around the same thing, but just knowing I saw them….knowing I witnessed them in some form, not in a moving picture form, I told you, just…Oh I wish I could tell you. I wish you would understand, but you won’t. You won’t and then things will only be medium good. I’ll be thinking about how you don’t understand and I won’t be able to enjoy it the same way at all.
Monday November 25, 2013 at the Starbucks at Queen and Bay
The American Express Ad
The Wifi connection page
We deliver all the things! To your front door, your back door, your wherever’s most convenient door! We even do it when you’re not looking! When you’re not home! Like crazy people wearing ski masks in the dark! Just kidding! We don’t own ski masks! But we do creep around a bit. But only so it doesn’t disturb you! Only so you can rest and relax and watch your family show with your family, in absolute peace! We know about the family show, yes, but don’t be alarmed! Every family has one. It’s an easy thing to know about a person. We also know that you were saving those frozen pizza shells in the freezer for a special occasion and when it finally came, you wouldn’t eat them because “someone” forgot to buy the proper “melting cheese”. We know about that because don’t fool yourself! That one is more common than you think! The uncommon things you do are the common things we know about. We know because we’re human beings! Human beings are connected by the root, by the guts, and by the throat on most days! Those feelings are not new. Someone somewhere has had them before. That’s a wonderful thing! Your cheese problems are not rare! You are! But the experience is shared! Don’t you see? It’s not meant to trouble you! It’s meant to free you! I am you and you are me and we are we are we are we! Say it with me! I am you and you are me and we are we are we are we. Whatever you need! You can call us and we’ll know exactly when, where and why!
Monday, October 7, 2013
The Four Agreements
Don Miguel Ruiz
The way we judge hurts and flirts with all the good things. All the good things.
Closed eyes, hand on heart, sort of reaching in every which direction without knowing the destination. Knocking off every single mantle-piece, art installation, packet of stale crackers.
And things get in the way, like the people we love, like the people we trust. And we throw them into a pit filled entirely with piranhas.
We don’t know it yet but it isn’t very useful. We do it because it’s easy and it feels good to take the blame off of ourselves every now and again. Especially when the biggest critic there is lives inside our skulls and pounds every wall down just to be heard.
It sounds like humour but it’s a pretty little mask.
We can’t stand to be alone and we can’t stand to think that someone else was justified in doing anything at all. We pick at each other’s scabs because we don’t like the sight of our own blood.
Squeamish little fuckers.
Then we smile and laugh and sing and dance and pretend like we’re all best friends with each other.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
The City Of Toronto Permit Policy
Okay so you’re moving? You’re just up and leaving? Didn’t you think about what I would have to do? Fucking course not. You’re a selfish dick. You could have warned me, at least, that you wanted to move. That you wanted to travel. Like, now I’m stuck either paying all the rent, or finding a roommate, which I know you know sucks ass. You have to leave me your throw blankets now. And the microwave, and the coffee table. I don’t think you get a say, sorry. Selfish people need to be accountable for their actions. What do you mean “not a big deal” ? Huh? Are you fucking kidding me? My best friend is LEAVING THE COUNTRY for an undetermined length of time and you want me to calm down? How about, WHEN WILL I EVER SEE YOU AGAIN? Or, Hey, just a head’s up, you might want to get all your shit-ducks in a row cause I’m about to DISORGANIZE THE FUCK OUT OF THE ONES THAT ARE ALREADY TRYING TO LINE UP.
Monday, September 23, 2013
I hate everything, Age. So what. If you don’t already know this about me, now you know.
It’s not something I’m even ashamed of anymore. I just hate everything. I hate that my feet don’t touch the floor when I’m sitting at my kitchen table. I hate that I don’t tell everyone who I hate that I hate them. I hate that when someone mistreats a server at a restaurant that everyone in the establishment doesn’t stand up and stare them down until they leave. I hate that people are dying every single second of every single day and we spend all of our time reading about celebrities on crappy blog cites. Am I supposed to feel bad about this? I hate. At least I’m doing something. I didn’t say I hated everyone, Age, that’s different. That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s not like that. It’s like…Everything is annoying because it’s a thing. Even things I love, I hate. There’s always something to hate about something you love. Loving something doesn’t mean you can’t find flaw in it. That’s the biggest mistake human beings make. I’m serious, Age! Love doesn’t mean ‘no matter what’. Even unconditional love doesn’t mean that. It just means there’s an abundance of joy and admiration and care and whatever else love is. I’m not denying that love is beautiful. It’s just swell. But it’s not perfect. So there is room to hate things that you love. I love hot peppers and yet I hate that they burn my eyeballs if I touch them right after chopping. If we loved everything without hating something about it, we’d all be just a bunch of idiots.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
The Norton Anthology of English literature
He’s all like “So, uh, I’m, uh, performing at this open mic and uh, do you, uh, like, wanna come?” And I basically lost it from here to next Sunday! I was like, “NO I DON’T WANT TO GO TO YOUR OPEN MIC! NO THANK YOU!” I stormed off, out the door, slammed the thing behind me, only to realize that I’d forgotten my sweater on the friggen barstool. I had to go back in there! He was smiling, holding my sweater like it was a dirty dishcloth and was like, chuckling. Like, completely chuckling. GOD! I was like, “What’s so funny?” And he was like, “You’re so dramatic. It’s cute.” Instead of losing it again I just said, “Thank you,” grabbed my sweater and left. So, I get home and there’s Isabel, waiting on the steps. “Dan needs to talk to you,” she said, looking all concerned, all, like, worried. “I JUST friggen saw him!” I said. She looked so confused. She looked like how we all look in Calculus, you know? And I was like, “What does he want?” “His Dad died,” said Isabel, looking at me like I was the asshole.
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
The Norton Anthology of English literature
And here’s where I pick a relatively HUGE-ASS bone with people who refer to their parents as their “best friends”. For the record, I am not saying that one cannot get a long with their parents, or want to spend time with them, or tell hem personal things, or feel loved or love or whatever, blabbity blah blah. But best friends? BEST FRIENDS? This is not okay. Your parents HAVE TO LOVE YOU. They signed up for it when they decided to raise you even after you shat all over their NEW COUCH/KITCHEN TABLE/BED/BATHTUB/CAR/SINK/FAVOURITE SKIRT/PERFECT PANTS. They were like, this shitting machine is still somewhat cute and needs a lot of guidance to stop SHITTING EVERYWHERE, oh look, I’m the only one who spends this much time with it, I might be a good fit to lend some teaching, also, have you seen those cheeks? UNREAL! They were not like, I CHOOSE YOU IN SPITE Of YOUR FLAWS, they were like, I GUESS I’M THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHAT THIS CRYING THING YOU’RE DOING MEANS, GODDAMMIT.
So. I rest. Parents can be your “best parents”, but they cannot be your “best friends”. SEEK HELP. K, thanks.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
If you leave, will you please take the star-shaped welcome mat from the front hallway and burn it in the yard? I always hated that thing, and I only kept it because you like that weird freaky shit that sort of makes you look like a wizard, or a Larper. You know? You just collect all these annoying little figurines and you put them in every corner of every room and like, sometimes, I’m not gonna lie, I’m worried that you’re gonna make me pray to them, or look at them when we’re getting it on. That shit is too weird for me. So take the mat, and take the lavender that you’ve pulverized and stuffed into my old pantyhose, or like two pairs at least, and whatever else you’ve armed the house with. I wonder if you’re trying to get rid of me, there’s so many fucking trinkets everywhere. I mean, I’m all for little jars with twine or whatever, but I do not need tiny satchels of a “Pixie’s promise” to haunt me in my own home after you’ve gone and cursed everything I’ve ever even touched. So. When you leave. I guess, is the thing. When, not if, because in stating all of this out loud, I’m fairly certain you’re a lawn gnome that’s come to life to try and kill me in my sleep.