Pitter Patter

I don't know how the rain got in.
It slipped past my angled blinds,
Within the tiniest cracks
Betwixt glass and painted sill.
I can hear it on the rooftop,
I think it must be leaking somewhere...
It bounces off pavement and floods the walk.
It keeps the newspaper pages stuck together.

The puddle forming on my floor
Is lemon-flavoured--
Of this I'm sure.
I haven't dared to taste it...
My olfactory works to distinguish
The subtleties of poison.

Ovid, Explain this...

Oh my god I turned into a cat.

To Be Re-Titled

[Phase prose: I will be updating and changing this piece as the Muse strikes. Any criticisms and commentary are appreciated].

The rocks are everywhere. They fell from the sky.

That is what our Fathers told us. Our mothers weren't around, though some of us vaguely remember them from early childhood. The rest of what we hear about them comes mostly from myth, fancied tales told from child to child -- outside of any Fathers' earshot.

The rocks are pock-marked and incomplete. They don't crumble in our hands, but they fill the potholes and wells of the streets in avalanches under your foot as it lifts and marches forward. The rocks never stay in one place for too long. The feet keep marching. We forget that they leave as many holes as they fill.

Some think they remember that the mothers never wanted to leave. Most aren't sure.

Rain falls from the sky but it is mute. Our childhood lacked lullabies; we tilt our mouths ajar to the sky. The droplets thicken our blood. Our mouths are always open.

The mothers took the pearls when they left. They took the olives. They stole the sun and the warmth we've been missing during this, our extended infancy.

What will be left to stand on when the spaces are all filled,
When there are no more rocks... When the sky is squeezed dry and goes black?
The rain falls between the rocks as we walk along the rocky path.
The weather will erode these rocks.
In time.
So they say.

Experience

It's one of those moments that you waited for
A long time.
Then it comes, and tranquility
-- The calm before the storm --
Consumes the moment like embers.
Breathe on the coals.
Ignition.
The band begins to play.
Melodic, transcendental.
My out-of-body existence,
The divinity of the self
And it's celestial connection
To each and every
One.

I point to the sky because the lasers shine above our heads, the projection of clouds on a translucent green blanket above the stadium. The band is geometry, the sound trips in elysium echoes. Wishing I was on LSD, but not needing it. Dancing. Doing liquid for the first time to live Tool. Spirtual and alone in a sea of quickened heartbeats.

Running into friends I haven't seen in so long.

The drive home; rock radio is playing the entire Aenima album front-to-back over the airwaves. It's perfect outside with the fat, wet snow coming down and melting in our path, making the lighs of the street shimmer. It's the first snow of the year, it is December first and I've successfully made it a month on my own.

I finish my cigarette with my back against the door, reflecting on the evening. Feeling the love.

And for the record, I hate Tower for being in the Honduras. I could've met Tool, but he had to go to your tropical island for two weeks.... -sigh-

Let's Make This Public

I really shouldn't be so mad about it.

Scholarly Glossary; entry: "cunt"

"I imagine that in utopia, porn would wither away along with state, heroin, and Coca-Cola."
--Ellen Willis

My New Eyeliner

... runs in perfect black streaks down my face when I cry.

I punctuate sentences with cigarettes these days.

Alone in the house. Alone.
Alone.
Write it down; own it. You asked for it.

If it wasn't for the stars that, when night falls into light, still shine beyond the azure veil... well if it wasn't for them, I'd be ten times the mess that I am right now.

You should know who you are. You few, but with abundance, whose love is sent via text-messages, voicemails, and long-distance phone calls. I can only thank you from the bottom of my torn heart. I would need checking-up on if it weren't for you all checking up on me.

And I can't help this feeling of multiplicity that scrapes at the windows of my brain. And I can't get them to take turns. And I can't even go to the fucking bathroom at work without tearing up, being alone amplifies their sound and it turns me upside-down, shakes out everything in my pockets and leaves me broke, broken. And they say the grass is greener. And if you pretend you're a robot it keeps your voice from slipping into sadness on the phone.

I'm selfish.
I'm selfish because I want to know.
Because I love him and maybe I shouldn't say it.
I'm selfish because I want what isn't possible.
Because I wish I could make things right.
Self-ish.
Self.
-ish.
Not completely myself. Just self-ish.

"You sound like you're doing alright..."

The truth is I can't even speak to him without choking. He knows my robot switch, and without effort turns my face into a faucet.

The Value of a Can of Soup

Our lives are enriched and elevated by cultivating and exercising the capacity
to appreciate art. To fail to do so reflects poorly on ourselves. To fail to
value things appropriately is to embody in one's life an inferior conception of
human flourishing.

----Today's Phil. 232 Reading

Coeur méchanique, ou est sont piles?

Happy Halloween.... tomorrow is my first day in my new apartment. I'm excited & nervous at the same time. I think the nerves part derives from the fact that I have a total of zero boxes packed, & the same amount of words written for my 2000-word term paper in Greek Mythology.

I have to admit though... I can't wait to get settled in our new place. K.L. & I have been trying to get a place for two months. Not to mention, with my impending departure, the status on the home front is a little bit hectic. It's so cold in the house, literally & figuratively. It's hard to breathe when there's someone choking you with your own heart-strings.

In other news, I'm going to Tool in December. I'm pretty stoked about it. They're the one band I've always wanted to see, purely for their amazing talent. It's going to be an orgasmic experience, much like NIN was, only to a higher extent.

My new favourite kind of music is future lounge. Everyone go download "The Mirror Conspiracy" by Thievery Corporation.

& you heard it here first: The next new big trend is going to be gloves, cute ones with buttons & lace & such. We'll wear them all year, like Victorian England. I can see it in the equestrian jackets, it's the logical next step. Go buy cute gloves.

& Woodstock has it right when he told The Boy that suspenders are the next big thing for guys, white ones especially.

Scholastic Fantastic

My scholarly goal this term: To learn to love writing papers.

The Only Thing I'll Be Listening to for 6 Months.

Yes.

It is finally out.

Three years since Futures, two since Stay On My Side Tonight (EP).

I've missed them.

Buy it... it's their best album since Clarity. The fact that I can say that with confidence despite that I listened to it for the first time today (even though it leaked on the internet like two weeks ago) is a threat to even that album (Clarity being my absolute favourite album--by any band). If you aren't going to buy it, download it and get converted. Then buy it.

Favourite track: #6. Gotta Be Somebody's Blues.

Interesting facts:

• Jim Adkins and Zach Lind had their family members sing for parts of the album.
• Big Casino is a reference to Adkins' side project "Go Big Casino"
• Naomi would love the cello in the above "Favourite track"
• The band is getting such intense reviews for their live show (which I can personally vouch for) that this release is almost assuredly going to be their most successful. I'm really excited to see them getting the press they deserve.
• This album is a lot darker than previous ones.
• Though Rolling Stone describes them as "power pop rock", iTunes lists them as Alt/Punk. I'd have to say both are fair...

Plans for Planet

My Blog Action Day Post:

(This piece is a very old poem I wrote about 3 years ago -- before climate change became an environmental issue. I thought it would suit the theme of environmental awareness)


Autumn MD

Sweet Serenity
The leaves on the weeping trees
Are scrying for me;
To join them forever ---
The eternity of fall.

Fall;
Frisky, feathery flight ---
Dancing in autumn delight.
She blows you but one kiss that
Tastes of bark and burning clove.
Smokey resistance;
Flirting on the brink.
Take another drink,
Toast to the harvest moon.
Opens her legs only to trees
Scares the leaves, birds, and bees.
Joined you with a warm smile
To leave you cold, shivering
And exposed.
She’s a fiesty delight, bi-polar
opposed.
-------------------------------

We're in a world where fall means high wind/huricaine season, and winter is a lot milder than it was (way back?) in the nineties. Summer tsunamis because our junkyard ocean can't handle the pressure of hundreds/thousands of dying species, the grief is thick withall. Spring doesn't bring the same things it used to when insects move northward and destroy ecosystems. Our planet is dying, and we have no plan to save it.

Manifesto

Today I will become an achiever.

Today I will print out "Desiderata" and read it each morning when my alarm goes off, until I can do it by memory.

When I read the poem at my alarm, I will actually get out of bed instead of hitting the snooze button.

Throughout my day, I will consciously let go of things that shouldn't bother me: Like the cigarette that beats pangs of stress, despite the broken accomplisment meant for better health; stress takes more years off your life than carbon monoxide.

My day will be accomplished with the help of no one. Head held high, responsibility all mine. I will take joy in cooking my own meals, making my own bed, prioritizing my life.

I won't let the bastards get me down.

Surrounding myself with people whom I love that love me.

Embellishing my stories. Letting my internal monologue turn into a conversation. The freedom of the stage of mind flourishing from floorboard to fly. I will be the main actor; the director; the crowd. I will cheer for the happy and sympathise with the sad. Allow my distance to be catharsis.

I can kill the plastic piece-off-something posed as a spider.
I can manage time so that it doesn't manage me.
I can burn the bridges to my fireproof Empire.
Allow myself to justify things -- stop this twenty-year guilt trip.
One day I will be able to look back on this and laugh.
One day I'll appreciate the internal dialogue.
One day I'll say this was how I became who I am.
Without fear, reproof, or undue anxiety.
I will be healthy even though it hurts.
I will sleep properly even though I'm never awake.
I will find myself even though I don't feel lost.

/Sidenote

I'm twenty now. Yes, birthday party was a success. Had close friends over for dinner, out-of-town friend arrived safe (1/2). We bussed to where others were celebrating, bands were playing and drinks were consumed with vigor. You know it's good when the party is "interrupted" by the police before midnight. It was quite violent actually: attack dogs, tasers, fourteen or so spending the night in the drunk tank... luckily my whole party managed to get out safely to taxicabs or Denny's. And I got a new fish from Ebsedtha who is heretofore dubbed: Topoeia Chiron Centaury. Or "Fish", just like the last one.

Drawn With a Steady Hand (Fireproof)

Yes, these are pictures I took with my camera.


Which of course indicates my level of ecstaticness -- my camera returned on Wednesday morning, the same day I left on the ferry to Metropolis to see my favorite band in the world play at the most beautiful venue on this side of the country. I also had the pleasaure of staying with my ol' buddy Led (You know that online-friend phase? Led is one of those ones who stuck -- known him for seven years but only met twice).



We saw Jimmy Eat World play at the Commodore, which was a defining point in my life. Led understood my need to be free in the crowds of fans who all loved the band as much as I did. I explored the ballroom entirely, it's an amazing venue. Afterwards, Led and I burned inscence (so to speak) in Robson Square and he skillfully recited some Anglo-Saxon poetry. Learned that he was an English major too. Reminds me I have a lot to learn...

After getting two hours of sleep, Led woke up and made me a beautiful tofu breakfast. I didn't have time to eat much as I had to catch my taxi to the bus terminal so I could make the 7:00am ferry back home. Slept a few more hours, got up just in time to hop in my car and make my Greek and Roman Mythology midterm -- which I raped -- and come back home to skip women's studies and sleep until 5:00pm.

The folks are in town again. I came home to my brother asleep on my couch, having gotten in through the side entrance. Anyone who's been in close touch with me knows what that means... and yeah, I'm coping just fine aside from the occassional nuclear meltdown in my cerebral cortex.

Ethical Treatment of Self

Orbital path leads me round the stack of potential futures. The conundrum of throwing away the blueprints, years in the making, is still a paramount feature of my resistance. What does it mean to be? As if waxing philosophical about the lot I've sowed will bring relief.

Like a moth to a flame,
I'll never learn;
Again and again
In vain I burn.



We didn't get the place. We didn't even apply, as the den was big enough for, perhaps, a bed. Now there are no two-bedroom places in town for less than a grand. It's going to be insane trying to find a place for November, let alone the fifteenth.

My family are in town this weekend to visit my grandfather, who is in palliative care. I can't deal with everything going on right now, so I'm ignoring the most important things in my life so that I feel fine. Desensitized. Ignorant to the red calendar circles and egdewise conscience.

However strangely, happy also.

Home Economics

So this is a pre-emptive post, I just can't hide my anxiety/excitement about this prospect.

There's this place on Yates Street that sounds like a dream.

The downside is it's going to cost $550/month to live in. Not that that is expensive by this city's standards. And, I did just get an $0.80 raise. Then there's the fact that my current rent is $200 less than that.

Oh, the inconveniences of moving. Yet, the prospect is too much to take.

I've sent the manager an email and left a phone message, but the place just got up on craigslist.com today at 4:00pm, so I hope it isn't yet gone. K.L. and I are calling tomorrow morning to set up a viewing, hopefully an immediate one.

I really want this place. Rooftop patio with fireplace. Scenic downtown views. Literal steps from the heart and core of the city. Dishwasher.

These are the manifold attractions of our prospective apartment. K.L. and I have been hunting, DAILY, checking the classifieds and postings online looking for anything remotely close to what we want. This is exactly what we want. I will be seriously heartbroken if this one doesn't pan out. So close to the end of the month, and it's available IMMEDIATELY.

I've done all I can to try to do my readings tonight but I can't focus. I wish it was 7:30AM right now so I could get up, shower and call the lady so that we're the first to snatch it.

Oh god, I hope it isn't gone. Really, like I'm exhausted with searching. Anyone reading this -- pray for me. Pray, even though god doesn't exist.

How To Survive A Plane Crash

1. Fasten seatbelt
2. Let the flow of oxygen numb your mind.
3. Throw away your worldly cares for objects, people, and ambitions.
4. Relax your body entirely.
5. Prepare for the onset of death; oblivion; the Afterlife -- whatever beliefs you hold of the shadowy mystery that lies beyond life.
6. Upon impact, do not brace yourself.
7. Watch in silent serenity your life's story.
8. Allow your body to smash forward into the front seat, hearing the awful screeching crash and twisting metal, watching the entrails from passengers near you splattering against the windows as they expire amidst blackened smoke and hot fire.
9. Bruised and worse-for-wear, you've been preserved by becoming one with your descending vessel of doom, relaxing and allowing Death to come.
10. For those who expect it do not respect it -- and respect for Death is his natural repellant.

Neuron Perdition

My life seems to be more full than I'd like. I think it all started when I dropped my camera. Incidentally, it's the same time I started this blog. (Look to my first entry if you don't believe)

Surprisingly, I am caught up in the readings. Got 95% on my first quiz. Am lamenting the 5% I lost... I think I need to go easier on myself. I got accepted into co-op too. Now let's just hope I can find a decent job, locally... otherwise in the next sevenmonth I ought to be making preparations for moving. This would make moving out with K.L. so much more benefical. If I'm not self-sufficient now it'll be that much more of a shock to my system later.

My grandfather is in the hospital. Has had lung cancer for five years and this is the first time my grandmother has called me at 11:00 at night.

The Poet Swift

Life happens quickly.
Events conspire, and grow overnight like a damp petri dish.

The Decemberists are playing in Seattle in (ha-ha) December. I desperately want to go, but current financial forecasts tell of a hard winter ahead.

So that thing that I didn't mention in the previous, previous entry? Yeah, you're going to hear it now.

I'm moving out.

The Boy and I are still together. Stitched together, roughly and in good need of a proper seamstress -- but I really think that leaving will solve everything. I think we'll be better if we're apart for a while... it'll force us to take time with each other instead of co-existing. I think moving out is exactly what I need.

(I wish I could commit to that last sentence with a full heart. I know the truth of its words, at least, my mind does. I blame astrology for my indecision. It seems like a great idea seeing as I have no idea how I would fare independently in the world. I think I need this before I become to old to enjoy being poor.)

Neo already knew, before I told The Boy. I don't want this household to fall apart, I love living next to the cheesy-sounding Swan Lake. I love having a backyard, a decent neighbourhood. I love being close to work and en-route to school.

But there's this totally other part of me that wants to be free, live in a grungy apartment with K.L. and walk downtown every day for coffee. To be close to the vital organs of this amazing city that I've come to call home. To be closer to the artistic spirit inside me that keeps begging for a place to let loose. I think to do that I need to get out of this cycle, to stop caring about domestic life and start enjoying creative strife.

R.I.P. "Fish"

Cassiopeia Phi Centaury
(August 20, 2005 -- September 7, 2007)

Explodingdog.com posted this today. I thought it was a suiting illustration.

That fish had a good life.

The Insomnia Theory

Ground says he can see my mind racing. If I'm that transparent to him, how can I hide it from anyone else?


K.L. and I met up downtown the other day. We walked past the Sunday market to hit up the delicious iced mochas in Chinatown. We watched some martial arts demos performed in the street amidst hungry tourists. Eventually we found our way to the water walkways, across bridges and through blackberry thickets. Hopping fences and climbing prickly hillsides -- all for the sake of adventure. We did a lot of talking about things I may mention in a future entry. It's nice to know someone is in the same boat as I. Unfortunately, I feel hard-pressed to make a decision before this window-of-oppourtunity closes... and the Libra in me is naturally inable.



Although K.L. is a Libra too. So is Ground. Maybe that's why they're more sympathetic to my mind's idle jive. Strange how K.L is so able to make it work almost without effort... when all I have is doubt, fear, and uncertainty.


On Saturday Rainbow took me to the Jellyfish Lounge. It was very sophisticated, a few blacklights coupled with red-and-blue lighting. Some white leather couches, LCD flatscreen videos of marine life, and bubble displays. We met up with a few different people downtown, some by accident. A party of about ten ended up at the Jellyfish, where we drank martinis and ate crème brulée cheesecake.

Yesterday I met up with Blondie. Pilot was supposed to come too, but she had to fly that morning. Blondie and I reminisced about highschool and what it would be like to have a PG-reunion for those of us now living in Victoria. It's interesting to see how much her and I have become the same since our childhood friendship, despite the years in highschool that we never spoke to each other. The world is full of surprises.

Vanity Research

First day of classes tomorrow.
Second day without cigarettes.
The worst won't be over for a few more.

For those who don't know what a vanity search is, have you ever googled your name?

It's interesting how many footprints we leave over the internet. Luckily, I usually cover mine -- the blog I had for five years is in smoldering ruins as I type. Paranoid... me?

Things written in teenage ignorance are too embarrassing to keep. I'm sure in five years I'll trash this too, thinking I was a silly twentysomething. It's an interesting thought.

Moral of the story: stop posting drunk pictures of yourself on Facebook. I've recently fell victim to the rumour that it is run by the CIA, and that in all likelihood they catalog the website every six months. Could come in handy if years down the professional line they need to ruin you in the media. I've already seen Facebook quoted or used as a source in a handful of news briefs.

---Sorry. I almost threw up there. Next we'll all be using Wikipedia as a scholarly source.

Beetlegeuse is back in town. Nineteen on Thursday. What a fantastic night to get drunk! I can't wait to announce the gift I've got for her.... until then, secrecy remains...

It seems lately my social life has begun to bustle. Strange, after such a long hiatus without much company aside from The Boy and Neo. Even they've been distant lately... living in the same house must not be enough to promote conversation and fraternity.

K.L. and I are meeting for a quick coffee on Friday. Ebsedtha and I are doing sushi tomorrow night. Aqua is in a crisis and I need to see her. Suddenly -- as if by some voodoo magic possessed only by the first week of class -- my life is too busy to juggle, despite my calendar reminders and to-do lists.

Stress is like a drug to me.

Safety Manual (comes with bonus CD sing-along)

Safety meetings at a café.
Sorry. Coffee lounge.
I suppose café is too pretentious for rock and roll. Anyhow, it was a fantastic evening. Ground's band surprised and impressed. Mouthful of Bees had great stage presence and there were many good laughs. K.L came with me. The more I spend with her, the more I realise that her and I are so much alike. I enjoy her silent company, and that speaks volumes. It'd be great to a have friend who was just a friend, and not a competitor, co-conspirateur, or crutch.
-looks in purse-
Three cigarettes left.
Then, I'm a quitter.
Only quitters quit.
Quit,
Quit.
The word purses your lips just like when you smoke.

Johnny Two F*ckin' Pesos. If you're out there... I may see you at the Ween Concert during reading break. Let me know about that couch.

The semester isn't yet begun and I am already planning my first break.

Speaking of music, Father got me some shiny tickets to Jimmy Eat World this October -- Four days after my birthday and six days before they release their new album Chase This Light. Which, evidently, I am so stoked about that I jumped around, spinning in circles I was so giddy about this new development. It should be an interesting six months after, without any music save that album.

The Republic of Insanity

Question: Am I the only one who thinks the fact that I have recently rediscovered Brand New's album entitled Deja Entendu quite ironic? The great part is that I had no idea I had heard the album at all before "Sic Transit Gloria" caught in my memory (which, incidentally, is increasingly foggy).

Question 2: Were the above sentences grammatical?

I have found myself in love with music again recently. A reveiw of albums in my rotation:
-Brand New: both Deja, and The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me
-Mae: Singularity
-Blackalicious: The Craft
-Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Show Your Bones

Experiment #62: Co-operative Education
---So here's an idea,
Me, eight months from now.
Going to work somewhere in Canada with a company that suits my degree. Real life experience in my field, an oppourtunity to learn so much, not to mention the sound of "Graduated with Co-op Distinction." It would be difficult, but do-able. I'm already striving for Honours, why stop now?

Scratch the above title: Replace with "Begetting Self-Confidence" or perhaps, "Skeleto-Spinal Inflammation"

-Sigh-

I'm in a place in my head where burning inscence has become one of my favourite things. The smell of nicoteine disflavours tastebuds but punctuates the gruelling regularity of life so divinely. Boy says I should quit or he won't. He takes his lack and stacks it onto mine.
Guilt. Such a fearsome creature.
It's a good thing I don't have to worry about him reading this.
Although I wish he would.
Not so he could hear these semi-revealing notes about him, for I never write these.
Just so I knew he actually was interested in me these days.
That he took any interest in the things I am capable of, or even of the things I'm not, but wished to be.
If he were more of a partner, and not taciturn.

Or, the questioning voice from the back of the room begins, is it really just you?
I mean, you have been out of sorts lately.
Some may even say crazy.
--No, I'm not saying that.
Really, I don't think you're crazy at all.
...Wait.
Are we talking to ourself?

A Lesson In Prudence

Once again, these lessons come at the most inoppourtune moments in life. When every responsibility and propriety are shelved among dusty volumes containing lessons from previous encounters of this kind. I've seen this phenomena a few times 'fore.

--Without a red flag going up in time, I'm lost in the midst without a roadmap back to safety.

I'm in a complete rage of folly. Reduced to staying up all night pondering the evidence that I'm exactly 99.9% sure these feelings are a broken record, a familiar groove that feels good -- but the record-needle stings and leaves scars. This I know. However, that 0.1% is a thief that robs my brain of thought, taking everything it has and replacing itself with doubt, fear, and unbridled curiosity -- the exact kind that kills.

It's a shame that sometimes we're forced to choose between the inconsistent but passionate muse, or the permanence of idyllic domesticity.

Instructions Against Carelessness

I learned a $300 lesson today.

Don't drop your camera.