A Broken Crow

I have an abcessed tooth. This means pain. Throbbing, nauseating, unbearable pain. Pain that I must live with until *gasp* a super fun root canal that might be happening tomorrow or the next day!!

The point is, I called my mom to help me deal with the pain and she got some super fun pain killers from dad. Now I'm pumped full of codeine and muscle relaxants. *Smiles*

I couldn't even stop myself from giggling with glee when mom dropped off the drugs a few minutes ago. That's right, mother. Leave it to me to enjoy a toothache....ba ha ha!!

I had coffee with Danny a few days ago, but it wasn't at all like any of the other times. Something has changed between us. The thread that pulled us together as friends seems to have faded. Maybe it's that we only hung out because we had class together and now that the necessity of seeing each other every week has passed, we're discovering that we didn't actually have anything in common except a timetable.

Maybe Danny really is getting weirder. I didn't think it was possible.

Danny is that kind of weird that makes even the simplest conversations awkward. At the same time, he's brilliant and completely fascinating. He's like a perfect human oddity. A deformed body part that you know you shouldn't stare at, but you simply cannot take your eyes from it. Both terrifying and beautiful in equal amounts. When we hang out, I'm often torn between running for my life and reaching out to hug him. I don't think he ever gets hugged. I wonder what he would do if I tried...

This time, he was stranger than usual. A lot of time had passed since we last saw each other and it seemed that all the nervous tendencies that he had gotten past with me had flooded back and taken over his body. The entire time we sat next to one another, he spoke to me while staring directly at the floor between his feet. He contantly shook his head from side to side, as if to negate everything that was coming out of his mouth. His sentences trailed off into bizarre facial expressions and incomprehensible noises. He reminded me over and over not to listen to a word he said, because "he didn't know what he was talking about".

I felt sad at the progress we had lost. I wondered if there had ever been any.

When the conversation turned to Snuff films and the fact that he was interested in seeing one.....well not much was said after that. We finished our coffees and each made up a reason to leave, promising to do something again soon. I'm not so sure that will happen, but at the same time I don't want him out of my life. I'm not afraid of him...am I?

Before we parted, Danny gave me the address to his blog. I looked it up when I got home, only to discover post after post of suicidal ranting. I can't say I'm terribly surprised...just sad. The strange thing about Danny's depression is the apathy involved. He says over and over again that he has nothing to live for and that "really, he should just get around to killing himself soon"...but he never does, simply because he doesn't even care enough about life to end it. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I don't know.

I used to think that Danny was the perfect character for a novel that I might write someday, but now I don't think I could ever fictionalize him. I could never box him in like that. (because isn't that really all that fiction is? the selective twisting of reality?)

on another note....I have two ideas for novels. One is about love. Another is about death.

i wanted to talk to you this morning, but you weren't in a terribly coherent state of mind. on my first attempt to talk to you, i had trouble even finding you. why the hell did you sleep on the floor behind the couch last night? did you even say goodnight to me? when i did find you, it was because i almost walked on you. i woke you up and said some things i'm pretty sure you didn't hear. you took my water out of my hands and drank it all. you muttered a few nonsensical syllables and then went back to sleep. i went back to your room by myself. i noticed the shirt i was wearing. red? what the? oh right. i bought a band T-shirt. ten bucks. rad.

i hate being drunk enough that people feel the need to babysit me.
i hate it because i am drunk, but not as drunk as they think. ( i know that i fall down a lot. it doesn't mean i'm out of control. i always fall down a lot when i've been drinking.)
i hate it because i'm drunk enough that i can't really explain that and have it sound very convincing.
i hate it because i know how dumb and sloppy i sound, but all the while there is a sober, rational voice in my own head, laughing at me.
i hate it because those who try to take control of me are usually just as drunk.
i hate it because i attempt, uselessly, to argue their "authority" over me.
i hate it because i can't argue so well when i've been drinking.
i hate it because it turns into me thrashing and screaming out of frustration from not being able to express myself properly.
i hate it because this makes me look drunker, and only solidifies the case against me.
i hate it because i should know better.
i hate it because you should know better.


you didn't laugh last night. you barely cracked a smile. i noticed. even amanda noticed. why weren't you having a good time? why did you sleep on the floor behind the couch? why didn't you come to bed when i asked?

Ha! I have the interent back! Victory is mine!!

p.s. I miss Matt

p.p.s. I saw Matthew Lewis the other night and he was all huggy and kissy with the girls. He kissed me right smack on the mouth. It was hilarious.

p.p.p.s. I broke my bed today, running away from a shit-covered lightbulb. Seriously.

the other day, i was walking to mike's place and something out of the ordinary occurred. I was on spring garden road, earphones in place and my head filled with sweet music. I walked up along side of a bus that had stopped to pick up and drop off streams of busting, nameless people. I stopped to glance across the street at the newly renovated Le Chateau. It's fucking huge now. I stood there, unmoving for a few moments, until the sounds of the bus starting up again jostled me back to reality. Just as I was about to start walking again, I heard something. banging. pummling. fists against glass. my eyes darted upwards to the balled hands beating against the back bus window. I made eye contact with the total stranger looking down upon me. Just as the bus was pulling away, the stranger pressed a piece of paper against the back window of the bus. There was one word written across it in a bold, black print. "BEAUTIFUL". I blushed and watched the bus pull away until it was only two eyes and two hands and a piece of paper. Then just the hands framing a rectangle of white. then nothing. I will never see that person again. I will never know them.

home from a wine tasting banquet with my father.
i was only asked to go because my mother and two sisters are away right now.
i am, as always, a last resort for company and conversation
it's okay. i don't mind. i'm drunk and full of expensive salmon.
happy fucking father's day.


lately things have been fucked.
that's all you're getting right now. just. fucked.

everything is swirling around me.
i'm drunk with indecision.

it's happening again.
it's happening again.
it's happening again.
it's happening again.

home from a wine tasting banquet with my father.
i was only asked to go because my mother and two sisters are away right now.
i am, as always, a last resort for company and conversation
it's okay. i don't mind. i'm drunk and full of expensive salmon.
happy fucking father's day.


lately things have been fucked.
that's all you're getting right now. just. fucked.

everything is swirling around me.
i'm drunk with indecision.

it's happening again.
it's happening again.
it's happening again.
it's happening again.

How does such a great concert turn into such a bad night for everyone? Motherfucker.

Buck 65 can hold my soul in the palm of his hand like a crazed, musical demon, but my thoughts were somewhere else. I heard the music without listening to it. I watched the stage without seeing him. I felt everything and nothing all at once.

I tried to get into it. I scolded myself. Stop this sulking. Stop. You love this music. You love this song. This. Song. And you're not letting yourself enjoy it. You'll hate yourself in the morning you know. (And it's true, you know. But how is that any different from any other morning?)

I couldn't get it off of me. The weight of decision. The weight of emotion. The weight of a drunken clumsy body draped over my back, beer bottle jammed against my shoulder blade and always screaming screaming screaming in my ear. I bit my lip to keep from crying and ruined my own night. Because nothing seems right anymore. Nothing at all. When did this happen? Anxiety is a slippery bastard that crawls into my bed at night.

We all managed to get separated. Really, it's my own fault, sneaking off in the last encore to find some space. I waited for you to find me and you never came. You left without me, thinking I had left without you and I was left to scowl into my veggie dog and sit on the cold cold rock wall. Did you know that one of the bouncers sounds a lot like you? I kept whipping my head around to be disappointed every time.

Ron and I shared a cab home. Your home, not mine. You weren't there and my stomach was ravaged with guilt. You were looking for me in all the places you would not find me. We all sat around waiting and talking. We were all in terrible moods. I'm sorry about the way it all turned out. I'm sorry for saying I didn't want to be involved and not always sticking to that. I'm sorry about your hand. Why am I apologizing?

Graeme, you asked me what bothered me. What consumed my thoughts each and every day. Do you know you are the only person to ever ask me that? Reality packs an icy cold punch and it likes to get you when you're looking the other way.

I went to bed feeling wide awake and woke up feeling sick. Mentally sick. Not the same sick as you, love. Crouching. Sweating. Pasty. Lurching over a toilet bowl.

"Can you give me a smile?"
"No, I can't."
"Why not?"
"I don't have any today."

I still don't. I hope to change that by mid-afternoon.

And you know, sometimes it's hard to dance this dance with you. My feet don't know the steps and they can't always follow yours. I don't even like this song.

working more now, at least four shifts a week
getting messages three days too late
missing Katie...i've been calling at all the wrong times
playing exausting games of phone tag
breaking the law
cutting back on the boozing...sort of
watching laundry pile up
watching groceries disappear
wishing matty wasn't leaving for the summer
(didn't we just cross the divide between us?)
destroying my fingertips on my guitar
thinking about johnny cash and ray charles
staring at blank paper
sitting with my pen, frozen in hand
drawing a thousand blanks
trying to fill the holes with my own breath
feeling that hollow space
wishing it was full
knowing that it isn't
trying harder
harder
harder
i can do this.
i already have.

Question: What do you get when you put Amanda and Kathryn in a boat together??
Answer: Two girls drenched with dirty harbour water. Woot.

So Amanda has her own little zodiac boat now. we made plans today to spend the afternoon together, puttering around the water in it. The day began well. Amanda picked me up when she got off work and I prepared myself for some serious sun exposure. Time to slather on the sunscreen. No one ever needs to experience heat stroke twice. Before going to the docks, we dropped Mike off at home and I sold a few of my cds for drinking money. I got fifteen dollars for three cds, but he laughed at the other four and refused to even take them for free. Can't say that i blame him. I certainly don't want them.

Down at the docks, I zipped up my orange life jacket with nostalgic glee. I used to spend entire summers on other people's boats. I miss that. We hopped in and puttered slowly around to the little gas stop just in case. In a matter of moments, we were all gassed up and zooming out towards open waters.

You know, for two girls who pretty much grew up on boats, we know nothing about how they work. We couldn't figure out the plug device that lets all the rain water drain out. We were afraid that even more water was coming in, threatening to fill the boat.

"it can't fill up when we're going this fast..."
"true. ok, so we just can't stop once we get going....no problem."

We went out along the arm and past Point Pleasant Park. It was the first time I had seen it since the hurricane. I was absolutely devastated. There was hardly anything left to see. The second we came out of the arm and into rougher waters, the wind picked up. The waves started to rock us pretty hard. We realized that neither one of us had checked the weather before we left home. Stupid girls are we. At that exact moment, we ran out of gas. Fuck. Good thing we filled up that can before we left eh? Otherwise, we'd still be paddling. Amanda filled up the tank, getting nearly as much gasoline on herself. I laughed at her. Once we were ready to go again, we looked and realized that we had drifted a huge distance in a very short time. Oh my. We had better head back now.

Turns out, the waves HAD gotten much bigger since we left. In order to get home, we had to cut right into them, avoiding a weird reef. With every wave, a shower of filthy harbour water came down over our heads. We got absolutely fucking soaked. It was revolting, but we couldn't stop laughing.

"Keep your mouth shut!"
"I can't!"
"It burns!"
"Oh God!!!!"

As you can see, it became a vicious cycle of laughing, trying not to laugh, thus laughing harder while torrents of dirty sewage water poured over us.

"I feel like i fell in a toilet."
"You pretty much did."

I half expected to be peeling slimy, used condoms off of my arms, but we were fortunate. We got back to the dock, messy and giggling. Of course this happened. It wouldn't be a Kathryn and Amanda day if it didn't turn ridiculous. Christ. I probably have a dozen diseases right now. Hopefully a shower will fix it.

Now....to drink in celebration of another moment of hilarity. Add ot to the list. Only two decades in the making.

p.s. I just checked the weather for the rest of the day. Severe storm warning. Thunder and lightning. Whew. Who have golden horseshoes up their bums? We do.

all is not well in waitressing land. don't get me wrong, i love that job. i like the people i work with and i generally enjoy the work. the money is good and the tips kick ass. the only problem is that i hardly ever work. when they hired me, i was told it was for full-time hours. now...is two shifts a week considered full time? i think not. that's what i work when i'm in school full time. oh. right. school. that thing that i'm supposed to pay for in september by saving my money from working FULL TIME ALL SUMMER! fuck. FUCK! i don't know what to do. i don't want to quit, because even with only a few shifts a week, the money is really good. i'm going to have to look for a second job, which means having two set schedules, which means likely never having a day off this summer. this. is. not. good. i'm considering busking on my days off. i could go down to the waterfront, or somewhere in the downtown that's heavily peopled and whore my musical talents for spare change from strangers and tourists. how delightful. what the fuck?! any suggestions?

i spend a large portion of every day worrying about the people i love.

are you okay? are you happy? are you eating enough? do you feel lost? do you need someone to talk to? do you need a hug? are you being honest with yourself? with others? with me? are you bottling your emotions? are you putting on a face? is it harder and harder each passing day? are you tired? can i help?

most days, i don't get a chance to worry about myself. whether this is good or bad i have yet to tell.

yesterday was supposed to be a day for the market and the gym. instead of that, we watched movies and got drunk. i was supposed to get up early. instead, i finished breakfast around 4 pm. why do i do this to myself?

we had breakfast at the Athens, because i feel weird going into the Greek house now to eat and not work. i skulked past their window like a criminal and guiltily enjoyed a meal with their biggest competitors. they will never know.

on the walk home, we picked up some movies, thus cementing the plan to stay inside on the first truly beautiful day in weeks. why? why not. i watched Half Baked for the first time and got a respectably-sized kick out of it. i think i'm generally too old to start seeing these movies now though. the lines are supposed to be constantly fed into every teenage conversation and spawn into inside jokes that everyone is in on. they weren't for me. i just couldn't laugh as hard as them.

a shower and some ultimate nachos later, we were on our way to Plum's house for drinky drinks. i stopped at Clyde street to purchase my wine and saved my change for the pirate outside the store. i gave him a loonie and he passed me a card about learning sign language. he clasped my hand in his and before i knew it, gave it a kiss. he smiled a very toothless smile and gave me a thumbs up and a garbled "wow" before i walked away. the boys were waiting for me on the red fence, laughing at the scene. mike better waych himself. i heart pirates.

at the party, i became messy. sloppy. drunky drunk drunk. i drank my whole bottle of wine in less than an hour and topped it off with a shot of jagermeister and a double rum and coke. i was on a rampage for numbness. for not feeling. i talked to josh for a while about amanda. i love her more than she'll ever know. i hope she does what's right for her.

once i was thoroughly soused, i began to wonder about the depth of everyone's actions. i tried to pick apart and dissect every word that was spoken for hidden meanings. i began to doubt. i asked josh and ron if they thought of me as one of the guys. i never want to be seen as only someone's girlfriend. i don't want to be an attachment. they assured me that i wasn't. i thanked them in slurs and hiccups and wondered how desperate and needy i had just sounded asking them that. very, i would assume.

mike bummed a smoke for me and i savored it out on the patio. i tried to pretend that i wasn't really enjoying it but it only made the voice in the back of my head snicker at my insincerity. what can i do? i love smoking. i have to be careful now. curling grey tendrils escaped my lips and i leaned over the four story balcony, looking at the busy street below. i followed the tail lights with my eyes until each set disappeared from my sight. i blew my smoke after the speeding cars and pretended that it pushed them and made them go faster. i pretended to be a strange and powerful being, watching a silly chaotic world, rather than a drunk, silly girl, whose too tired of herself to write as much now, peering over a ledge, sucking back poisons.

i decided i should leave. mike offered to walk me part of the way, but after i fell over for the second time, he vowed to see me safely in my apartment. for a while it was almost a pattern. a choreographed little dance of debauchery. walk. walk. stumble. giggle. slump over. walk. walk. stumble. giggle hysterically. fall on face.

but after i told you. everything. the pattern fell apart. i told you and the world swirled around us in a black tornado, pulling us. pulling me. pulling. i clung to your chest and cried and you were incredulous at my previous silence. why didn't you tell me? always tell me. always tell me. i'm sorry for keeping it inside. i'm sorry for looking for it. and what would i have done if you found it? maybe nothing. i don't know. i don't think i would have done anything. only to see it. only to hold it. only to frighten me away from myself one last time. never again. i love you.

i woke up this morning. you were beside me, sleeping in your clothes. the air felt stale and old around us. i got a glass of water and went back to sleep, curled around your back. clinging.

for the last few days in a row now, i've woken up only to wonder if i know who i really am. that line between what i say to others and what i say to myself in my head has blurred and become intangible. i feel like a tethered beast, pulled in too many directions. i feel like not enough material over too much flesh. i can cover it all, but i'm stretched so thin that i'm transparent, revealing all the blemishes and ugliness underneath. if i can't hide the ugliness, should i instead try to cultivate it? it's strange the way i've been thinking lately. actively seeking my own destruction, mostly in an emotional sense. i know it's masochistic, but it feels disturbingly natural. it seems lately that everywhere i plant my feet, i can feel them sliding backwards. i am perpetually face down in my own personal mud puddle. so really, i'm only speeding up the inevitable. in that sense, i might even be considered productive? who knows. who cares. not me. certainly not anyone else. this is just all too familiar to be terribly concerned about it. with me, deja vu seems to only occur in misery.

and wouldn't you know, i truly believed that i was too old for this. it's funny how where you've already been creeps up on you when you're not looking.

i'm cloaked in silence and soft soft light. the only noise being the unmelodic hum of my refridgerator. the air is still and cold, like no one really lives here. the dirty dishes have piled up to outnumber the clean ones, stacked precariously on the counter and overflowing the sink. i fear that the ones on the bottom have begun to take on a new life and are plotting against me. the mice are back, running behind my cupboards in heavily trained armies. tens of thousands of them, practicing drills and methods of attack. i'm sure of it. my mouth no longer feels exceptionally sore, just robbed. the hurt has almost gone completely, but i'm still left with four gaping holes where bone used to be. they feel like tiny, pulsing mouths, trying to devour me from the inside. trying to fill themselves. i'm existing in the median right now. i'm on the cusp of a full recovery, but i'm not quite there yet. i feel well enough to do anything, but still i am not working nor am i allowed to go to the gym, lest i start to hemorrhage. what fun. the long and short of the matter is: i'm bored and lonely. anyone want to play?

.....my tea is cold.

*sigh*