spotted dick

i don't know what i'd do without coronation street. i used to make fun of my friend shaeya when we were room mates because she was a fan. i always thought it was a tv program that was solely produced for the elderly and mentally unstable. i was sort of right, i guess. m. got me into it when we first started seeing each other, and i've been hooked ever since. i thought it was so quirky and sweet when m. wanted to get up bright and early on the sunday morning of the weekend we first spent together to watch the week's worth of episodes. my room mates were out of town and m. and i went on a "date" that friday night and he ended up staying the whole weekend. it was total bliss. (sigh.) anyway, coronation street has become one of those comfort shows for me, like kids in the hall used to be.

oh the drama of corry. now i'm ready for brunch. stoned sunday morning brunch binge. i love it. my best and oldest friend heather just called from toronto. she asked me to collaborate on a performance art piece that i and another performer will produce for a conference at the university of regina. i'm super excited about it-- it's my first paying gig as an "artist." she's sending me the contract today.

it constantly amazes me how creative and talented my friends are-- all of them, without exception. it also amazes me how most of us, myself included, have trouble generating money for ourselves. like, a majority of my friends are highly gifted and financially restricted. there are a lot of different circumstances that contribute to this state for all of us, and i'm not suggesting that each of us is not personally responsible for our own financial situation. i'm just curious as to why a bunch of smart, educated people who have known each other for years, are kind of meandering down a similar path, unsure of where we want to go. or maybe i'm just projecting. hmmm. stoned on a sunday morning.

photo essay of my apartment by jason

candy, darling

i had a whole list of productive things to do today including getting my taxes done, cleaning my apartment and running over to the "family planning" clinic to get my birth control prescription refilled. so far i've been laying around in bed reading holy terror: andy warhol close up by bob colacello. i got up for just enough time to feed myself soup and cheese, then tucked right back into bed and the book. it's almost noon, and i've spent almost the entire morning horizontal. maybe i'm depressed today. i still want to go back to bed and read for the rest of the day, but i know i'm going to hate myself if i do that. maybe i'll make a deal with myself: have a shower, then i can lay around some more, but only if i go to the gym later. failing doing anything i thought i should really do today, i should at the very least leave my apartment. as i mentioned last night, i probably don't need birth control anyway. i'll take the beard. . . yep. i'm depressed today in the particular way that means i don't want to do anything about it. it's a day for wallowing, immersed in self loathing and avoidance. oh my god, no wonder i never go out. . .

i miss m. truth is, sex with him is what i miss the most. that, and how goofy he is, and smart, and how much fun it was to hang out (when we were both not feeling crummy, that is.) i lived in his apartment with him for a little over a month last winter, and it ended up being pretty terrible. it's a very small space and we were both going down our respective roads of mental/emotional disintegration. living together really didn't help. in fact, i know it made it worse for both of us. i didn't want to admit it though. i was hanging on to the optimistic illusion that two depressed, fucked up people could help each other, when we were really just dragging each other further into the dark in spite of how much we cared about each other. (at least that's my perspective. maybe m. has a different take on it.) love does not conquer all, i guess. ok. that sounded pretty bitter. for the record, i moved out and it ended up being ok. i got to have a mental breakdown without dumping the entire thing into m.'s personal space. it wasn't a great situation by any means, but it would have been a million times worse if i hadn't been offered a house sit at just the right time. that really was a gift from the "universe." or whatever. anyway. . .

i feel weird writing about my personal stuff, especially with regards to m. on this blog. i want to do it though. i feel compelled to do it-- it's my outlet. i don't really talk to any of my friends around here about this stuff anymore because i end up always bitching about living here and how much i miss whitehorse and a bunch of people they don't know or understand anything about. i realize i'm alienating myself from my old friends from regina, but once you leave, when you come back, it's never going to be the same, right? excuses, excuses. i know. i've got a million of them for being unhappy. anyway, m. might read this and it might be weird for him too. in fact, it has gotten a bit strange for him for a different, more creepy reason that i won't bother discussing in any real detail, except to say, i realize that the whole point of a blog is that it's in the public domain for anyone to read-- for me, part of the "thrill" of having this blog is never knowing who might look at it. but i feel like i've been exposed in a way that isn't the result of genuine interest or random curiosity. apparently, a link to my blog has possibly been "shared" to further someone else's "agenda" or something. i don't really know, but it creeps me out. and it kind of pisses me off, even though i may not have the "right" to feel that way. i just want to ramble and write any old garbage that i want, about whoever i want (within respectful reason, i suppose) without having to edit to suit anyone but me. or having to worry about someone using my dumbass blog to create discomfort or drama for other people. anyway, that's all i have to say about that. i wasn't going to bother mentioning it, but it's something i've been thinking about, therefore it's blog material.

hmmmm. . . the fascinating/inane life of andy warhol is calling me back to bed. less thinking about "personal issues," more avoidance. oh andy, i love you. . .

living the dream

yawn. i've finally figured out exactly why i moved back to regina: i'm taking a holiday from fun. this town is a colossal drag. i'm know there must be some kind of interesting fun to be had around here, but i'm not interested in trying to find it. i rarely drink anymore, i hardly ever go out, and i usually don't talk to people when i'm not at work. sounds pretty sad, but i like to think of my current lifestyle as therapeutic "spinsterism." the only reason i still take birth control pills is to prevent myself from growing a beard.

i'm getting to know myself again without the influence of other people. yeah, that's it. no drama, no craziness (except at work, but that shit is "confidential" or "in camera" or subject to "non-disclosure." too bad, because it gets pretty juicy, as well as incredibly frustrating for far too many reasons to even think about right now.) no boyfriend, no relationships to fret about. well, i still fret occasionally over m. in whitehorse, but it's minimal. the thought of actually going out in order to meet men, or try to get laid seems like the most draining, unenjoyable activity in the world. do i sound bitter? i'm not. maybe vaguely pathetic (apathetic?), but i have enough of a sense of humour to accept that characterization. my apartment is always clean, and i always get up early on the weekends.

one weird "habit" i've developed since moving here is taking a gravol or two before bed. for some reason, gravol makes me fall asleep instantly and i have really detailed dreams. i started taking tranquilizers in the summer after i went totally mental. i was having serious anxiety problems and i couldn't sleep, so my doc prescribed some fantastic pills. now, i've got a bit of a thing for various types of "sleep aids." generally, most kinds of "drowsy drugs" don't really have that much of an effect on me, so the gravol thing is kind of a novelty. really, it's not that interesting, and i don't ride the "gravol pony to sleepy town" every night, but sleeping to dream has become a large part of my "self-entertainment" activities recently. that, and sweating my ass off at the gym. and reading.

see? none of my preferred passtimes involve contact with other people. too bad i can't get motivated to write anything other than this stupid blog. i could have written a novel given all the time i spent unemployed, but that would have been way too stressful and i was "recovering." i couldn't even get it together enough to write 500 word book reviews for what's up yukon. god. it was ridiculous how much i stressed out over that. i only ended up writing one review that they never did publish, and i was supposed to write five more. ditched out on that altogether. slightly emabarassing to think about now. oh well, periodically emotionally unstable people do will do that kind of shit from time to time.

well, law and order is on now, so my friday night can really get started.