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Monday, July 19, 2004

I walk home through pouring rain, because I lent my umbrella to a customer earlier this morning. He had to go all the way downtown. Besides, I don't mind getting a little wet.
 
On my way down Quinpool, I step lightly into puddles, watching the water leap over the toes of my shoes. As I pass the bank, the doors open and Danny steps out in front of me. We always seem to meet up this way.
 
"Hello."
"Hey."
 
(But really, I'm thinking about the play he wrote. I'm a character in it. He brought it to my work for me to read and I haven't finished it yet. I resolve not to bring it up and to finish it tonight.)
 
I tell him that I have just finished my shift and I am on my way home, via Oxford Street. I ask him where he is headed.
 
"Dal, I suppose."
 
"What are you doing there?"
 
"Nothing. I just feel like getting soaked and I need a direction to walk in."
 
He falls in step beside me, heavy drops darkening the front of his tattered grey hoodie. Rain cascades over him, running in streams from his hair, over his face and neck. The water makes his eyes gleam, bluer than ever. Piercing and strange.
 
We start talking about family. He asks me what I imagine his parents are like. I realiz that I have never thought of them before. I always imagined Danny as solitary, even though that is quite impossible. No one comes to being totally on their own. He tells me his parents are boring even though he plans to be a writer. I tell him about my family and he laughs. He puts his hand on my shoulder and then quickly takes it away, staring intensly at the ground between his feet.
 
"Can you smell that? The whole city smells like saturated flowers. Lilacs, mostly. Can you smell it?
 
"Yes, I can." *grins*
 
"You say your sister is a lawyer? Is that what you plan to be too?"
 
"No, Danny. I think I'd rather be a rockstar."
 
"...Awesome."
 
He smiles a very genuine smile and then walks away, kicking puddles with his already soggy shoes.
 

Ow. My stomach lining.
 
I've been thoroughly MSG'd.
 
I've also made a decision. I plan to stick by it this time. I don't like the congealed grease pit that is the North American excuse for "Chinese Food". I find it genuinely revolting. All I ate last night was an "almond chicken gai ding" (rubbery chicken with celery in weird broth that had only two almonds), "beef fried rice" (dry and flavorless, with hard little peas and strange tasting meat), and an eggroll, that might have been good hours before, except by the time I got it, it was old and soggy.
 
My stomach still hurts.
 
Fuckers.
 

Saturday, July 17, 2004

fuck. what day is it? what YEAR is it?
 
Only yesterday morning I swore off the booze....I lasted a few hours? maybe? I blame this on you, Ron! You and your sexy charms.
 
Thanks to all for another fabulous Geek Beer experience. I love them. Really, I love cheap booze. They had cheap Jagermeister.....Jagermeister!!!! I had to partake. I partook? I'm silly. I might still be a little bit durnk. DURNK! Kerri would be proud. Where the hell is Kerri anyways?
 
Kaitlin, you rocked my world. Seriously. Suzanne, your voice is awesome. You both have talents that astound me every time I hear you.
 
At one point, a small woman came up to me. She looked kind of familiar, but I couldn't place her.
 
"are you Mike Gillis's girlfriend?"
 
"yes. yes i am."
 
"I fucked him last night."
 
"...........??????.....!!!!!!!!"
 
Then I remembered that I had shared a bed with him last night. Then she started giggling. Then I recognized her. Erin, of "Alex and Erin". They came for the cheap beer. She was the one who got up and danced for a while, eighties style. Fun.
 
My apologies for my last song. I was too drunk to be playing it. I remember nothing.
 
RON! We must start a band. We'll work out the Number of the Beast cover on acoustic and my jembe. We will rock them all. ALL!!!
 
Hey! I just remembered, I got that bongo guy's phone number. *reaches into pocket* His name is Mason. Fuck. Aren't my jeans actually in the wash right now?
 
(and aren't you all not the least bit surprised that I'm back on the booze this quickly? Hmmmm? aren't you all giggling and telling yourself that you called it? that you saw it coming?? Yes? don't I look just fucking foolish?)

Friday, July 16, 2004

I hurt all over. 
 
I went to the gym for the first time in months on Wednesday and I forced myself to do my usual workout. When I finished on the treadmill, I was inches from death. I was doubled over, coughing and panting, my legs trembling and quivering like jelly. I should have stopped then, but i didn't. I pushed myself through two more machines and weights and crunches before i stopped. I refused to admit to myself that I had fallen out of shape a little bit.
 
Every morning, I wake up with the overwhemling feeling that I have something to prove. It's getting exhausting. I wish I could stop.

Thursday, July 15, 2004

what? what??

I don't have much time before work to get this out. My deepest apologies to everyone at the bar last night. I went temporarily insane. No really.

I had so much fun with Ron and Amanda and Melissa and everyone there. Ron, we should have requested that milkshake song. Who cares if it isn't retro...and that it's just awful. Certainly not me. So vodka and whiskey proved an interesting and effective mix. I got too drunk too quickly and my brain became a sponge for negative thoughts. I heard she was there. Someone saw her. I didn't have to. Knowing she was there made my blood run cold. It isn't healthy to harbour all this rage, but I can't make it go away. Time has done nothing. I was trying to calm down. I was trying to shrug it off, but her name kept coming back up and my hands were balling into tense little fists. Punching my palms. Punching the padded booth. Punching the table. Punching the air. I was trying to get the aggression out so that it wouldn't come out all over her face, but I was only getting madder. I haven't seen her when i was that drunk since highschool, back when I was still afriad of her. I'm not afraid of her anymore. I just hate her. I hate her more than anything in the whole world and I wanted her to know it. I wedged myself into the corner and tried not to gleefully picture my fists sinking into her face. I wanted to hurt her and it scared me, so I sat there and freaked out in front of everyone. I'm sorry. I kept hearing her laugh. The same one from the seat on the bus right behind me. The same laugh from Can Lit. The same laugh from the hallway where they all ate lunch together, only twenty feet away from where I sat by myself. I heard it in the bar. I heard it in my head and it wouldn't stop. Suddenly I felt a strange sensation and I knew that I had lost something. My purse was open. The clasp, broken. My keys, gone. Fuck. FUCK! It's almost better that I spent the next hour looking for my keys, as it kept me from looking for her. I had things to tell her. Terrible things. The two negative situations came together in a one-two punch. An ambush from both sides that left me reeling. I'm sorry for crying. I feel like an idiot. That's why I left early. I didn't want to ruin anyone's night. Back at Mike's we ordered garlic fingers and I thought of Stephanie. The last time I ate them was with her.

I had a dream last night. It went like this: Another family reunion in Sydney, but it wasn't the same Sydney or the same family. I didn't know anyone. They all looked at me strangely and whispered when I walked by. These two girls walked by me a dozen times, each time repeating the same two sentences in the same tone, like it was dubbed over and over again. "That's Gillis's girlfriend." "Oh. She's fat." This is ridiculous. I'm not fat. I screamed at them but they didn't respond. They couldn't hear me. I complained to Mike about them and he pushed me in the water. Water? Where was I? WHo were these people. A stranger passed me half of a cigarette and a plastic bag full of butts and ashes. I threw it away and went inside. Someone I'd never met before kept coming on to me. He wouldn't listen when i told him that Mike was just in the other room. I tried to read the clock, but the numbers made no sense. I realized that I was dreaming. I left the stranger and went over to sit by Ron. He draped his arm around my waist and I said nothing. When Mike came, he got up and left, like he was saving Mike's spot, or keeping his girlfriend warm for him. Mike sat down and spilled Greek Salad all over my lap. I screamed so loud that I woke up.

When I woke up I was in Mike's bed alone, still in my clothes, covered in sweat. My keys were sitting on my chest. I noticed them when I sat up and they fell, jingling, into my lap. Thank-you to whoever found them. (Curtis? I think?) I went out to find Mike asleep on the couch. I woke him up and got him to come to bed. I layed down and closed my eyes. I pretended that none of it happened. I pretended she didn't exist.

Thursday, July 08, 2004

Man do my feet hurt. The Athens was closed today, so we got all their business...and we've got only half the tables. Ah yes. We ran out of everything. By the end of the night, Maria and I were drinking Kouros (Greek white wine) while we were drying the silverware. We worked our asses off today. Cheers to you, baby. Cheers.

Last night was bizarre on many accounts. I keep replaying the events in my head, but they all melt together, like an old back and white movie that's been scrambled. Last night I was unhappy. I didn't want to see anyone. Last night I made plans to hang out at Mike's place for a few hours before he came home from work. I planned on walking slowly, watching the orange haze of each street light pass over my head. Last night I was ambushed by Ben and Matthew, and convinced to go up to Matthew's for one beer. It was his birthday/going away party after all. Last night one beer became three beer and a joint. Last night I was lost in you. I was blissfully nostalgic, caught up in your laugh and tangled in your words until my limbs went rigid and cold. We don't hang out much anymore, you know. I miss it. I miss you. Last night you asked me a lot of questions. Last night you showed me that you really cared about me. Last night I didn't want to leave, but I also didn't want to worry anyone any further. I gave you a hug with your new guitar pressed between us. I left with enough time to get there as mike got off work. Last night I strode quickly through dark, wet streets, with sweet music filling my ears. Last night I gave in to the urge to dance on Queen street. Last night I was five minutes too late. Last night I just missed you. I found the note and sat on the floor in the lobby, trying to concentrate on the hum of the lights overhead and not how heavy my own drug-addled head felt. Last night I waited for you. I heard your keys and saw you come in the back door. You were red, sweaty, panting, angry. Rightfully so. Last night you didn't yell at me. I hugged you and you were quiet. You didn't say much to me as I apologized for causing an unintentional fuss. You didn't yell at me. I hugged you and you were quiet. Last night I tried not to think about how quiet you were while I hugged you.


Tuesday, July 06, 2004

We got back from Sydney late last night. It took two separate shuttle drivers to get us the entire distance. Neither one spoke very much which was just fine with me. I passed the time staring out the window and concentrating on the feeling of Mike's sleeping head bobbing up and down against my shoulder. I like the feeling of his weight on me. I like the pressure.

The weekend was fast-paced and fun. We arrived at the bus station at 4:30pm only to find Mike's parents there, waiting to pick us up. As we came into the city, I spotted murky water in the distance. "Are those the tar ponds?" "No, Dear. That's a park where children play." Then I noticed the benches and swings. How embarrassing. The bus station itself, however, IS located next to the tar ponds. The most toxic spot in all of North America. I saw it. Gross. After a delicious and much needed supper and a nice hot shower, we were off to "the boys' place"...in town....directly across form a bar/pub/place to gamble called "Steel City". I won't tell you what the locals actually call it. It's vulgar. I met the illustrious Matt, Chris, Kevin and Tracy. Lovely people. Much booze was consumed. Much pot was smoked. We ended up at Jasper's for a 3:30am snack. We walked the forty minute walk back to his old subdivision, taking all the old shortcuts along the way. Mike showed me his favorite place in the whole world. When we're in Prospect next, I'm going to show him mine. I don't like dark roads. No lights. Only darkness and woods and noises that come from nothing because there is only darkness to look at. If this shortcut was in Halifax, it would be a sketchy place to be in. I was assured that I was perfectly safe. Still...

Saturday was the day of the anniverary party/family reunion/excuse to get plastered. I decided to wear my denim skirt. Trying to look nice. Trying to make a good impression. After a few hours, the temperature dropped so much that I had to put on Mike's uncle's track pants to stay warm. Man...did I look hot then. More beer was consumed, the bulk of it by Mike's brother, Sandy. He got plastered. It was very entertaining to watch him chase a five year old around and around the lawn, while screaming profanities. As the sun went down, the gravel driveway became a dance floor, each uncle taking his turn to show his moves to the rest of the family. Fucking hilarious. The party ended on a sad note. Bad news. Drunken tears. A car ride home, silent, except for the sound of choked back sobs. A brother hugging a brother. We eventually went back into the city and back to the boys' place for more drinks. Tracy and I picked up smokes and plowed a bottle of wine together. Smooth Herman's you say? Skanky girls you say? Minors you say? After two slings, I had to get out. We bought hotdogs from a street vendor and cabbed it back to Cantley Village for the night.

Sunday was a day of exploration on foot. Mike showed me all his old haunts. All the places that I've heard about in all the stories. We walked back through the woods until we reached the ruins of one of the cabins, crushed Wildcat cans still scattered liberally about. Evidence that a Gillis had been there. We walked to the Plaza and had a bite to eat at Jaspers. Apparently, Mike's been banned for life from there, as well as Smooth Hermans. Huh. We couldn't get a hold of Tracy, so we went to see Spiderman 2 without her. Awesome. Fucking awesome. Back to the boys place for a bit. Hung out with Chris and smoked a joint. Watched Ozzy and Louie fight each other. Crazy cats. Listened to Chris bitch about Matt. They won't last six months. Impossible.

Monday we mostly just chilled with Sandy until we had to catch the shuttle. He was talking again. He was eating again. After 48 hours, he finally got dressed. Poor guy. It's too bad this had to happen this weekend. Played some guitar with Seamus, the five year old and had a beer in the garage. What a fun weekend. Thanks to the Capers for a truly excellent time.


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