hubris pear

i love the feeling of well-being and calm i get from a tumbler of scotch. i tried to recreate that feeling monday morning with a shot of vodka in my coffee. unfortunately, it didn't work and by mid-afternoon i had a splitting headache. sometimes finding appropriate coping techniques is a challenge.

on sunday i went to alaska for the day with a friend. she decided not to claim her purchases at the canadian border on the way home and got caught. we had to wait around while the customs agents searched her car for other illegal goodies. it was a pretty tense half hour for both of us. the car actually belongs to her boyfriend who is in quebec, and i was certain there was a stash of drugs somewhere in the car that both of them forgot about in their exstensive travels across the country. but, it turned out ok, and we actually got to see a black bear on the highway right in front of us just after our adventures in border crossing. so the lesson we learned there is: doing bad things means interesting things will happen to you. or something like that.

my crotch itches like you wouldn't believe. i got a bikini wax less than 2 weeks ago and it's already growing back. i must have mutant pubic hair. it's like those really hardy weeds that you can't pull out of the ground because the roots stretch for miles or something. and it doesn't even look good anymore. all that pain and money wasted just to have 3 days with a pussy that looks like an aging porn star's. is it really worth it?

hands of lamb

i just smashed both my knees when i was running up the stairs to get the phone. i slipped on the steps and then when i was propelling myself forward off my knees i slipped again and fell really hard on the kitchen floor, which is considerably less soft than the carpeted stairs. thankfully, i was laughing hysterically the whole time because the thought that it looked like my legs didn't work properly anymore seemed very funny.

i went to a little "welcome home/birthday/congratulations on graduating from your program" party for a couple of friends last night at the hotel where i was employed until very recently. i hate these kinds of events-- i never know who is going to be there, and inevitably i end up making inane conversation and pretending to be really excited to see certain people and act like i wouldn't rather be at the bar down the street. but, since i felt it would be bad form to not to at least make an appearance, i went. overpriced drinks, bad food and the above-mentioned social awkwardness compelled me to step outside for a cigarette. i saw the bar down the street and knew there were free drinks waiting for me (my friend works there), so off i went. saying good-bye is an over-rated social obligation most of the time anyway.

several free drinks were had and i got to see an amazing blues show, so the night was salvaged somewhat. but i'm still having trouble getting back into the social scene with genuine enthusiasm. that's ok. maybe i should create my own social scene that features more trannies, art wankers and party-minded intellectuals than my current circle. i know they're around here somewhere.

but when

much has happened in the last few months. i moved in with my boyfriend and then moved out last week. i also quit my job last week and will be starting my new job this week. i have been experiencing high levels of anxiety and depression. what else? that's about it. i've decided to start posting again in the hopes it will help inspire me to write more in general. so. . .

uh. not today.

satan's toothpaste

i do this weird thing when i get stressed out or depressed. i obsess over my hair. more specifically, how i don't believe i have enough hair and everyone can see this and feels sorry for me because i have a moderately pretty face and it's a shame my hair is so horrid so they don't say anything to me about it. except hairdressers. they really like to tell me how dry and thin my hair is. it freaks me right the fuck out. i imagine that i'm a few strands away from looking like kim mitchell. for people who are not familiar with kim mitchell, he is an 80's canadian "rocker" with long stringy hair except on the top of his head. he wears a baseball cap all the time. or he used to. i have no idea what kim's doing these days. anyway, i walk around feeling like an ugly freak. no matter what my friends say, i cannot accept the fact that i simply have really fine hair and i actually look completely normal. i hate being such a neurotic weirdo sometimes. maybe my hair would be healthier if i could chill the fuck out.

i also have a urinary tract infection. i had to give a urine sample today at the walk in clinic. there's such a shortage of doctors here that i haven't been able to find a regular physician in three years. i had one for a summer (whom i hated because she said i was a drug addict after i told her how much pot i smoked. doesn't she know addicts don't like to be told to do less drugs? we also don't like harsh judgements from our health care providers.) anyway, she left town without forwarding any of her patient files to other doctors or informing her patients that she was leaving, for that matter. whatever. back to the urine sample. i had to pee in a dixie cup while looking at myself in a mirror. i was hunched over, peeing on my hand and all i could think of was how much better i would look doing that if i had more hair and how cruel it is to have mirrors like that in a walk in clinic bathroom. oh yeah, i also got my period today, so this experience was extra fun. what else happened today? hmm. well, i woke up at 2am and couldn't get back to sleep because the waves of fear just wouldn't let me. i'm having job anxiety right now because i have a new boss whose function is to make my shop and others like it way more money than we're making right now. he expects me actually work, which i am not accustomed to. really, no one has cared at all what i've been doing for the past 18 months and suddenly i'm being pushed into being some sort of "business person." i'm scared that i won't be able to perform. so there's that. and, i got served with a summons to court today for an incident that happened at the shop over the summer. one of the summer staff sold cigarettes to a minor, got caught and failed to tell me about it. i was hoping it was forgotten, but apparently health canada never forgets. all in all, a very shitty day.

i suddenly don't want to think about any of this anymore. i wish m. was here right now.

insert here

i think it's time to let go of long hair. who am i trying to kid? and the thought of working for anyone other than myself is making me more and more angry these days. i was all worried that my lack of enthusiasm for "jobs" and "work" meant that i was lazy and unambitious, a "slacker" or possibly even a loser. i'm certainly not the "go-getter" type that is so revered in what i've come to truly understand as the most idiotic model for successful living ever produced in modern society. i don't need to have a fraction of the things that i'm supposed to be working for. i don't want to make money to buy things. i don't think debt is a good idea. i don't want to sell my time to anyone. i got really high last night and started going off on how the only time i feel truly gratified and at peace with myself is when i'm cutting up magazines and arranging the pieces in grid patterns. i felt my eyes get wet when i was trying to describe to my boyfriend how much i like sharp scissors and glue. he said i should just face the fact that i am really an artist and i should stop dismissing those impulses as frivolous side line activities. he also said i was the cutest marxist he's ever seen. so, now i'm relieved to know that i'm not actually lazy, i'm just not interested in what almost everyone else thinks is important. i already knew that, but good pot really clarifies my feelings sometimes. it makes it a lot easier for me articulate the things that actually are important. my goal is to eventually stop working for other people so that all my time is mine to make things i want to look at.

i also revealed to m. last night that i want to take voice lessons. i always thought it would be great to be able to sing loudly and on key about sea creatures and what went on during my day.

m. is gone for an entire month- i drove him to the airport this morning and now i'm sitting in front of the computer wearing his favorite t-shirt (i know that sounds lame, but this shirt is fucking awesome. it has a giant faded skull on the front and is 19 years old.) my hair is really greasy and i've just finished making plans to babysit on new year's eve. at least my sweatpants still fit. january is going to be a long month. at least x-mas is over.

speaking of which, i spent x-mas eve with m. in a hotel room snorting coke and fucking for hours. we rented non-stop porn on pay per view. it was great, but i've discovered my maximum porn saturation point is three hours. m. hates x-mas so we had to do something subversive. on x-mas day, i went to turkey dinner with 20 of my friends in a cabin in the woods. m. stayed home and watched an animated movie he found under our couch. no one knows who it belongs to or where it came from.

horrified by sugar

something really gross happened to me the other day. i grabbed a yogurt from the kitchen at work first thing in the morning. it was the "fruit at the bottom" kind, so i shook it up before i opened it. it tasted different, but good. after a few more mouthfuls, i noticed i was doing a lot more chewing than tiny bits of peaches warranted, so i spit some of it out. as it happens, i was actually chewing on rubbery chunks of mold. mmmmmmm. mmmmmmmmmmmm. yeah.

i have just discovered a relatively excellent video store in town. i had kind of resigned myself to the Roger's Video Shithole Experience, which actually makes Roger's look like a fun place to work: hunky teenage boys engaged in "horseplay" and eating pizza behind the counter to a punk music soundtrack. But I fucking hated renting from there. Those hunky boys have one functional brain cell between them, so getting any sort of information from them beyond "how much?" just wasn't going to happen without at least fifteen minutes of hand gestures and slow talking. plus, the selection is seriously lacking in the good department. my new video store is heaven in comparison.

it is the simple pleasures in life that really move me.



i have to say i think rob zombie is a good film maker. rent the devil's rejects dvd if only for the documentary of the making of the film, thirty days in hell. the production was under budget for one thing, but zombie's approach to film making is economical in several other ways: time, space, ideas. he also has some excellent criticisms of hollywood and violence. it's great to see the actors talking about the shit they had to do and how they felt about it, too.

speaking of uncomfortable movies, i watched palindromes last night. i loved it, but now i want todd solondz to make another movie about dawn weiner- i have to see what happened to her life (obesity?! rutgers?!) palindromes also has the best contemporary christian song and dance number i've seen in ages. it was so good it just about made me gay.

cornhole

i've been rereading a collection of books that i loved when i was a kid. they're gothic novels for children by a man named john bellairs. i had superb taste when i was eight, because i'm totally loving these books now. and it's very interesting to play a little investigative pop psychology and pick out elements from these books that obviously influenced me as a child, and subsequently informs me, at least somewhat, as an adult. for example: my favorite color is purple and in the house with a clock in it's walls, purple is mrs. zimmerman's signature color. there are a lot more subtle and nuanced connections i've been making, but, you know, i'm only illustrating a point here, ok?

i'm taking the day off from the boyfriend, which is something i badly needed. i said i was going to do some "homework" on this stupid correspondence course i'm in, but i think i'm just going to spend the day reading books and magazines and nibbling on crackers. i might make some pornaments or start a postcard for jason later. maybe. i felt a bit guilty for blowing off the very thing i was scheduling this time for, but i haven't really had time to lay around on a gloomy sunday afternoon and read for a long time either, so fuck it. i've been proscrastinating so long with this course that one more day means nothing. plus, i plan on making a lot more time for myself in the future anyway, so it's not like today is the only time i have to be responsible. i have to make an effort to not spend time with m. as a matter of habit or obligation, because that's the kiss of death in a relationship (at least one of them) and i want to at least make the real effort of having something good and honest with this person. i can't do that if i'm on autopilot in any way, or if i'm crabby and irrational simply because i'm spending too much time away from my own time and space. so, no bra today for sure.

art tubes

i was pretty bored at work today, so i came up with a new art project to work on. (in other words, another project that i will lose interest in and then feel guilty about, most likely.) i'm going to make original art postcards and mail them to my friend jason. nothing special, really. and not terribly original, but i like the dimensions of standard postcards, and i have always had a weird fascination with mail. plus, i enter into a "post modern dialogue" regarding image reproduction (which almost all postcards are, except mine, of course), the marriage of visual art and literature, and all that other crappy crap bullshit that art people like to talk about. sometimes, i like to talk about that kind of thing too. but more often than not, it makes me really impatient. i like to learn about art, but not necessarily from artists and/or art critics. especially not from art students. anyway, i know this is something jason will appreciate because he likes mail and he likes art, so everybody wins. i will mail the first one tomorrow. when jason reads this post, this will be the first time he's heard anything about it. so, note to jason: please don't throw these postcards away. i'm not sure what i want to do with them, but it would be hilarious to put up a show in regina, and get some arts sponsorship to pay for my trip back home so i can attend my gallery debut. then i can sell the postcards for a "reasonable" price and buy booze and pot for all my regina art wanker friends. sounds like a good idea, doesn't it?

in other art related news, there's something here called "festival of trees." every year, corporations/companies/etc. decorate an x-mas tree and they all get displayed downtown in our federal government building. well, i like to do something called a "porn tree" but i don't think i'd be allowed to put it in the "festival of trees" mostly because i'm not a corporation and also mostly because i think hard core porn is frowned upon in public federal buildings. anyway, right across the street is a little gallery called "arts underground." (it's underground.) and i thought they might like to display my porn tree. i'd have to probably write a proposal and/or some kind of artist's statement, but i can deal with that because i would love, love, love to have one of my porn trees officially labeled as art. (and, yes, wendy, i will send you a pornament or two.) they might actually go for it. we'll see if i actually get the nerve to do it. this town is really small and i would end up having to explain myself to a lot of people.

i have to bake cookies now. we got a new oven and i need to try it out.

like snow for mocha

i invented a new kind of tobogganing. it's called "porn sledding" and i discovered it quite by accident. did you know that it's possible to "perform" at least six sexually suggestive positions while tobogganing down a hill on an inner tube? your partner doesn't even have to be willing, let alone know what's going on. "porn sledding" is aided by break-neck speed, limited visibility and friends who know "what you're like."

here's the aftermath



what really happened: kim and i were coming down the hill and i was starting to slide off the front of the tube. my legs were getting caught in front of us and i had a horrible premonition of breaking them both in a spectacular freak tobogganing accident. i didn't want to break my legs, so i was clutching and flailing at anything to hoist myself back on the tube. it just happened to be kim's leg that i grabbed in such a way that it became hooked over my shoulder, thus putting her in an awkward spread eagle. her crotch was in my face. i mean, other things happened too, but i want to keep that private. anyway, it was a lot of fun for me. i laughed and laughed.

tomfoolery pizza hell

i wish andy warhol had come to my school and given a talk about art. i wouldn't have cared or known who andy warhol was- i think i was 11 when he died- but it sure would be nice to have that memory now. in fact, i'm sure it would have been hilarious to remember andy warhol surrounded by a bunch of grade schoolers from southern saskatchewan in one of those totally "classroom looking" classrooms, mumbling things like "gee, you sure are cute" and "art is what you make" with his wig slightly askew. oh well. who needs real memories when you can just make this shit up? i just made that "memory" for myself and it was pretty good. emotions related to this "memory" are just as easily manufactured as the images of it-- it just requires a lot of detail. mmmm. . .now i can "remember" having sex with ewan mcgregor when i was 17. this is so great. who knew you could use your imagination for such wonderful things?

my friend kim is coming over tonight. we're going to go play "upwords" at a "rock and roll" bar. seriously, the logo includes the phrase "rockus maximus." no one goes there for obvious reasons, so it's an excellent place to play board games or have really private conversations. i am going to drink mimosa just to piss the owner off. i'm sure he'll be bartending since i don't see how he can possibly be making enough money to pay someone else to be there. i love tuesdays.

eye diseases

i am so very, very hung over today. m. prepared a mexican feast for me and my room mates last night and i thought having a large bottle of tequila and 24 corona on hand would be appropriate. i blacked out a short time after eating a portion of the worm that was in the bottle of mescal kismet had stashed in her room. apparently, anything goes after a "mescal martini." i don't remember much. m. and i apparently attempted to have sex, but the only recollection i have of that is trying not throw up from the spins. it was pretty hot. i wore special "festive" outfits last night, too. there were like, three different costume changes. one of them was a red plaid tam and a short black dress with line drawings of flowers on it. for some reason, that ensemble said "mexico" to me at the time. god, tequila hurts bad.

bring on the bacon, francis

fuckabaloo

i watched caligula last night. it was the uncut version, but it was still pretty boring. peter o'toole was great, though. i have no other compelling comments regarding this film at the present time.

what is pork doing in my chicken chow mein?

alright. i admit i have nothing compelling to say about anything at the present time.

hoe town

my rant yesterday regarding slutty halloween costumes was in no way a criticism of real, honest to goodness sluts. open your vagina to the world girls, just be smart about it. what i don't like are "pretend" sluts and the sexualization of children. oh, and i don't like women (or men) who think that overt displays of raunch for the benefit of crowds of drunk men is "liberating." there's a lack of irony in today's mass culture i find disturbing. maybe it's because i'm from "generation x" when irony reached it's cultural pinnacle. whatever.

m. bought me a vibrator yesterday. i'm so in love. (why are vibrators ok and artificial vaginas just creepy?) we met some friends on the street when we were on our way home from the sex shop. they were going to the coffee house with their manual typewriter. we were going to m.'s house with a vibrator and a bottle of brandy. there are lots of ways to spend a sunday afternoon. . .

ass years away

m. and i are starting a band called "slutty fetus." our debut album will be titled faster than the speed of ass. we came up with this high concept endeavour after witnessing the parade of slutty costumes the girls were wearing for their big halloween night on the town. april was a slutty witch and amber-lee (yes, that is her real name) was dressed as a slutty brownie. if you're canadian, you'll recall that brownies were the step before girl guides (similar to girl scouts, etc.) brownies are in the 7 to 8 year old range, and i myself was a brownie, but i thought it was stupid and did not continue onto girl guides. the uniform for a brownie is a utilitarian brown dress with an orange and white neck scarf that has to be tied in a special knot. anyway, a slutty brownie? come on. that's gross. m. was like, "what's next? the slutty toddler outfit?" and i was like "no. next year it should be the slutty fetus." how awesome would that be? because, really, if the fetishization of children has become as acceptable as women choosing to sexualize their childhood experiences to that extent, then i say we need to go back to the womb. imagine how disturbing it would be to see an image of a fetus, all veiny, bulbous eyes, still partially "webbed" fingers, umbilical cord, maybe even covered in a little blood and mucus, wearing fishnets, a short skirt and a tube top. people would be appalled. but, somehow, the slutty brownie is a-ok. christ. have you seen what 7 and 8 year old kids are wearing these days? it makes me want to live in a remote part of northern canada. the "post-feminist" cultural scene is really creeping me out.

i'm going to watch hedwig and the angry inch tonight to make myself feel better. another great show to watch when you're feeling utter despair about the vacuous wasteland of current pop culture, is strangers with candy. it's a tv series created by and starring amy sedaris. that's some funny shit, man.

yeah, i said "cum rag"

i'm listening to pork soda, released by primus in 1993. i haven't listened to this in over 10 years. i found it in the discount bin at the local cd shop and couldn't resist. my favorites were, and still are "my name is mud" and "nature boy." i almost didn't buy it though because i thought it would reek of highschool too much. thankfully i've been able to listen to it with a "fresh ear."

m. and i went to the history of violence last night. david cronenberg is a subversive freak and i love it. when we got back to my house, i made us some tea. i never really got to drink my tea because m. was naked almost as soon as we got upstairs. i'll spare you the gory details but i have to say m. is a subversive freak and i love it. it's always weird coming downstairs to use the bathroom after m. and i have just fucked our brains out. can my room mates hear us? we try to be quiet but, you know, whatever. does our heterosexual passion gross out the lesbians and they're just too polite to say anything? i hate coming downstairs in my bathrobe (which is really just a bath towel) to get a "cum rag" or to use the shower for a quick rinse and meesh will just be sitting at the dining room table reading. is she really reading or is she just too traumatized to move or say anything?

my mouth still hurts, but i think it may be getting better. i still wake up every night in excruciating pain, though. maybe i need to elevate my head. you know, like sleep propped up a bit. i don't know. what do you think? maybe i'll actaully get some useful blog spam commentary, not the private road construction one again. i just don't understand it.

love is annoying

i feel contemptuous today. specifically of my boyfriend. i am alarmed by this because i am supposed to be in love with him. i'm hoping that i feel this way because i quit smoking cold turkey and have a nagging weird pain in my mouth that never goes away. plus, there's a variety of drugs swimming in my veins that are supposed to relieve that nagging weird pain. at any rate, i need more personal space. i can't spend too much time with even my closest friends without hating them a little bit. i'm sure he'll understand. he's used to tempermental head cases-- he was a theatre promoter in the late 80's- early 90's in toronto. it's hard not to be jealous of him sometimes-- he's had the life that i always kind of wanted: full of famous people (including kid's in the hall and kurt cobain-- major influences when i was a teenager, icons of my youth, etc.) travelling, the "finer things in life" and drugs. sigh. oh well. biologically, he should die before i do, especially now that i've quit smoking.

i saw what i might look like with a penis this morning, though. that was interesting. m. was laying on his bed naked and i was straddling him while fully clothed. when i looked down, his penis was positioned in a way that it looked like it was coming out of my pants. i said, "i have a penis." and we laughed and laughed.

private road construction

my boyfriend rocks. he's making me "soft dinner" tonight: garlic mashed potatoes, poached salmon and chocolate ice cream. yummy. then he's going to spank me while i call him "mister discipline." should be fun. he told me last night that my mouth smells like a hospital. sexy. it's because of the medicinal clove goo. the magical goo that saves me from "dry socket." he still wants to have sex with me, so maybe he finds "hospital mouth" titillating. whatever. as long as i'm getting some.

dinner time. . .

dry socket

a "few" years ago i did a lot of peeing in public places. this was on my birthday: a harrowing night of mushrooms and "treasure" hunting. i got tired of pissing in the bushes so i switched to these comfy concrete trash receptacles. . .



in other news, i spent the majority of last night writhing in agony on the couch. i seriously wanted to kill myself. i found out today that bit of fun is called "dry socket." exposed nerves from the extraction of my teeth. i was warned about "dry socket" but i figured i was safe since i have been religious about salt water rinses, no straws and no smoking. that's right, folks. i haven't had a cigarette in 5 days. i think i've quit, and that's the only good thing about this whole experience. i went back to the dentist today and she stuffed some clove goo into my "dry socket" and like magic, i feel no pain. now the other side of my mouth is starting to hurt and i have to go back. the receptionist advised me to bring a book because there's going to be a long wait. why am i so retarded? there's no way i'm not going, though. after last night's extreme torture i'd rather swallow broken glass than feel "dry socket" again.

hmmm. i think my perogies have been sufficiently over-boiled, so i must now eat them. soft food. . . .

grimace

i want to die. the codeine i've been taking has made me constipated and it's not even killing the pain anymore. i also haven't had a cigarette in 4 days because i want my mouth to heal as quickly as possible. so i'm bunged up and incredibly bitchy. and i am in p a i n. pain. pain. it has become the only thing. i don't know how people with chronic pain issues manage not to kill themselves and/or everyone around them. if i have to hear "you poor thing" one more time, i am going to start stabbing.

i am in hell.