A Broken Crow

things are getting back on track between us. when we talk, it seems like they were never off. how is it possible for so much to happen and still we act as though nothing has changed? I guess nothing has. I guess I'm thankful for that. I guess I'm thankful for you, even when it hurts.

They sent me home from work because I kept breaking down and crying everytime I came back into the kitchen.

As soon as I heard, I fell apart.
I want to move away from here.

Thanks for all that work harrassment in the sexual place.

Thanks for coming across the country and sketching it up in every province.

Thanks for using words like "clit" and "pubic" in scrabble.

Thanks for hating Winnipeg as much as I did.

Thanks for waking me up in Saskatoon so I didn't miss it both ways.

Thanks for fun nights fueled by lust and whiskey. *shazz hands*

Thanks for carrying me home when i got too drunk.

Thanks for watching "The Warriors" overandoverandover....caaaaan yooou diiig iiit?

Thanks for waking me up when Garth fell on his keys.

and why is it that when you kill a man in battle, it's called heroic...but when you kill a man in the heat of passion, it's called murder? Did YOU ever find Bugs Bunny attractive when he put on a dress and played a girl bunny? What i'm trying to say is that if you were an icecream flavour...you'd certainly NOT be pralines and dick. You're unbelievably awesome. Buds?

Yes. Finally. Today was perfect. I woke up and everything made sense. There's something special about this time of year. When it's still technically summer, but every so often you feel autumn sneak up behind you and tap you on the shoulder. I got up early after little to no sleep, but i felt awake, charged and powerful. With a coffee in hand I walked determinedly all over the city. I stopped at the end of a pier just to watch the sun dance on the surface of the water for almost an hour. The light trickled across in fissures and webs, shifting over the ripples and flashing like threads of gold. The harbour seemed as though it was full of electricity, bouncing in all directions and exploding with energy. For some reason I was and still am exploding with energy. I beamed widely at every stranger and gave change to an old man in exchange for a new unsharpened pencil and a "god bless you dear, you're one of the good ones."

and do you know? I even had an epiphany today. For the first time in months, everything is clear and focused. I know what to do. I know what to say. I know that everything is going to be fine.

Also...I finally accepted the fact that I just plain don't like skim milk. I've upgraded for good. One percent all the way. Maybe now I'll actually drink it and my bones won't be so very brittle.

God I missed my laptop. Thanks Ron. You're awesome.

We had a late night, but we managed to get up early.

We had a sketchy breakfast, courtesy of Senor Cluck and the good people at the Coburg. Microwaved eggs on a bagel?? Yes please.

We left the city and drove out to hubbards.

We stopped at the quarry for a smoke and a chat, but decided not to jump.

We hiked through the woods, getting coated in spiderwebs...well he got coated in spiderwebs...thanks for taking the front. i'm a baby.

We swam at uncle mill's for the first time in years. It was fucking glorious. beautiful and perfect. everything i remember. i might have kicked a sodden, wet corpse, but i ignored it.

We went to the outback and asked for the brain. a deep fried apple dumpling type dessert. should we have been worried that the staff seemed to have no idea wwhat we were talking about, but then mysteriously found one? probably. it was equally delicious and horrible. the coffee, however, was just horrible.

We headed back to the city, barely past noon. so much sketchiness yet to be had.

We did the John A. 500 on the freshly paved parking lot. we layed the virgin strip down in the old gray Saturn. does it get any dirtier? no. the answer is no.

We left the car with the one-eyed Yank and contined through the down town on foot.

We shopped in Pro and Blue Heron.

We drank beer and ate Falafel plates at the Med. The trip to the downstairs bathroom was particularly bad this time. just disgusting.

We smoked on a dirty little stoop and ran into the guy who was sitting in Tim's the night before, talking loudly to himself and/or the voices in his head. *cue Bill* "that's what coke does to your brain!"

We checked out Frozen Ocean and Venus envy. I bought a massager! We played dress-up in Biscuit and both ended up buying something. I have new jeans! woot!

We hung out in Second Cup on the dirty old couch in the back. We lifted up all the cushions and looked underneath. He found a phone number of a girl named Roxanne under his, but my cushion was the clear winner, hosting an old pair of socks and some dirty, half-eaten licorice.

We returned to his apartment and scored some pot and some liquor. Hooray for whiskey. I blame this on the Caper.

We ended the day by watching The Warriors. Arguably the best/worst/sketchiest movie of all time.

The best and most full day I've had in a very long time. Seriously. Here's to the Clucks.

This isn't like me. This sadness. This madness. This isn't like me at all. I look into the mirror and see a stranger staring back. A sad, mad stranger holding a bundle of broken stories. thoughts that have fallen to shambles.

It's a terrible feeling that starts in the pit of my stomach. A gnawing little mouth that pulls and tightens everything inside me. It hangs on me heavily. Dead weight. Like a cold, limp corpse draped over my shoulders. All the sounds are far away, like my head is underwater. I'm thrashing like a fish on a hook, and the sun is blinking at me through the surface, beautiful but out of reach. All the smiles are fake, at least all of mine. This isn't like me at all.

And I suppose all the drugs drugs drugs that I fill my head with aren't helping my fragile disposition. I suppose i'm my own worst enemy at any given moment. I suppose that i should stop everything. change everything. go back and redo everything.

If I could go back and relive any moment, things would be different between us right now. Things would be less complicated for me. I wouldn't get confused between the equal portions of pain and love that are attached to you in my memory. It's unlikely that you would notice any change at all.

When did I become this person?

"that there...that's not me.
I'm not here. This isn't happening."