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Thursday, February 24, 2005

i like the feeling right after a good work-out. when your system feels so light and empty, and your head so full and heavy. (i ran and ran and ran until the sweat poured over my eyes and i couldn't see.)

i'm going on a sketchy little quest. it's one of those times that would be so much easier with you around. you can always manage to luck into everything you want. i have to work for everything and i still usually fail. i called but you were gone out. I felt really stupid when i hung up the phone. i always do.

girl's night tonight?
i'm in a weird mood. sorry.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

today was productive. i cut off all my services and changed my billing addresses. i still have to return to my bunker and clean that fucker till it shines. after class.

it's weird to be in a new part of the city. i've been south for so long, i feel like i'm in a different world. i have so many new greasy all-day breakfasts to try! i haven't been able to really post much lately due to the move and midterms and all. the internet is non-functional at the new place for some unknown reason. i think i broke it just by moving in. technology cowers in my presence.

my last midterm was last night. i got impromptu drunk at iain's and thoroughly enjoyed 'true romance' for the tenth time. stumbling home with sean along robie, eating old pizza. i felt completely new. stumbling in a new direction, through a different door. same old shit. different location. i take what i can get. is it even possible that my bed would feel more comfortable in a different room, in a different building, in a different part of the city? everything is sweeter further north. i'm convinced.

this is rambling. nonsensical. where is my brain? it was in my pocket and now it's gone, scuffling along the sidewalks with all the traffic of dirty feet.

if you want my new number, call my old one and you can be "redirected". it's a free three month service. woot.

more later.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

everyday for the last week, i've walked home facing a sky so vibrant i could almost taste it. pink clouds spreading across the sky like strawberry jam on toast. smears of tangerine sherbert, soft and smooth.

this means that everyday i return home at sunset.
and then do hours of homework.
and then torture myself with inadequate sleep.

i just need to stop for a little while, curl up somewhere and rest for about a month. yes. i'm worn out. so worn out. i looked so bad in class today that my teachers kept giving me pity smiles. ( it's alright, just lay your head on your desk and try to nap while the other students are learning.) i don't know how much longer i can keep this up. i feel like my feet are going to crumble under my weight like sand and slip down between the cracks in my floor. i feel like i'm going to cry all the time. i feel like i'm going to scream at random and if one more person tells me that i look like hell than i'm going to gut them like fish. yup. fish.

ok. ok. ok. everything is cool. nothing is ruined. a mug of tea. a mug of tea and some hot soup and that essay with just fall out of your brain like a warm spring shower. (or i'll take the route of plan b and pull it directly out of my ass.) whatever works.

Monday, February 07, 2005

i am not myself anymore. i don't know this person. we have not been introduced, but she's here and she's wearing all my clothes.

Friday, February 04, 2005

a little update... 

today's agenda:

i have to clean, pack.
show my apartment to a number of people.
poster dal for carolle.
finish my novel.
read two "short" stories (my ass.)
read an article.
finish at least two of the four assignments that are due between monday and thursday

eeps.

tomorrow i have no time. work and then straight to black tie.

this weekend will destroy me.

Thursday, February 03, 2005

it's strange how memories get pushed back, buried, forgotten in the constant influx of the new. i haven't thought of it in so long, almost like it never happened, or maybe it was just a scene in a movie i saw once, black and white and without sound. and then something as simple as a sentence in a book. i hear a chord progression from a song and there it is. there you are. everything is real and present again.

late summer during the weeks of experimentation, excess a la ernest hemingway. i had been crying over my relationship with mike for so long that everything seemed broken. irreperable. my voice scratching out of my throat like an ancient recording, those ones where the singer sounds strange and far away. i stayed over simply because i had had too much to drink and because we were both so collectively miserable at the time that being alone always felt dangerous. you gave me your hospital pants to sleep in that are way too big, even on you. that night there was a thunderstorm, one more threatening and violent than any other i can remember. the lightning would flash. all the dark at once bright with an intensity that was painful. and then the thunder would follow. the sky howled like a savage animal in the throws of death. the walls trembled under the force of the sound, as though your room was slowly being crushed, chewed up by enormous, gnashing teeth and digested. i was still crying a little, and everytime the screaming noise and searing light made me jump, you reached across the bed and smoothed my hair with your hand. it was such a natural thing to do for a friend, so natural that i never uttered a word about it and neither did you. tears. a flash of white. a clap of thunder. fingers slipping through my hair.

i had forgotten all about it.
i write about it not to dredge, but to preserve. it was beautiful and i want to remember it.

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

Brian Locke doesn't stand at the front of the class, he dances. He jumps around during his lectures and flails his arms in tune to the ever-growing frenzy of his voice. He gets so excited when he talks that he constantly interrupts the students when they ask questions. Sometimes, the urge is so great that he has to physically clamp one hand over his mouth and dance around like a child who needs to go to the bathroom in order to keep himself quiet for a few seconds. His round nose and wide mouth make him resemble a large, gangly puppet. I always find myself casually looking for marionette strings to explain his haphazard and energetic movements. He would be at the height of fashion if the clock turned back ten years, but even then, his clothes are always three sizes too big for him, hanging off his body in billowing, droopy folds. He looks less like a teacher and more like a hyperactive child playing dress up.

When Dani took over at the end, he never stood. He sat calmly on the table at the front of the room, still wearing his blue fleece hat, pulled just slightly off his head and had a grungy red scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. "Free Jazz is such a loaded statement." Catharsis? He screamed without warning. An agonized, bellowing sound coming from a tiny body, his feet dangling over the table and lightly kicking. My heart plunged and teetered.

And then he played and everything was different. The notes came down onto me like teeth sinking into my neck. A hot little mouth. The sharpness of it. the pleasure and the pain all at once. I shivered and let the music pierce me with its tiny spears, all the while Dani nonchalant about the volcanic power that exists between his lips and an instrument. "so i guess i'll just check that out now. i'll just check that out."

sometimes, the ugliest sounds are really the most beautiful.

which school are you? is it still music? is it just noise?witheverythingblurringtogetherandmewantingsimultaneouslyforittostopand
nevereverstopandthatsaxaphonejustkeptscreamingandscreaminglikeableedinganimal...

check that out.

Dani. Noise.

"see where the music takes you as opposed to where you want to take the music."

and it's all about control. you just have to let go of it. once.

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

this isn't right.

i woke up drunk when the lady from bathurst with the stupid accent called me. i don't think she understood anything i said. i might have hung up on her.

(everything was fine. no trouble. i told you there would be no trouble.)

i mean it now. gonna cut down. gonna hit the gym a few times a week. shifting gears.

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