Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Friends?

I got to know a wonderful girl over the last year and only recently we talked about how great it is to have found a friend in each other. Why the validation? And why so late?

I broke up with my boyfriend and when we saw each other for the first time since our last fight the topic of friendship came up. How can we even try to call each other a friend? Is it just an avoidance? Is "friend" status the ultimate demotion? Or is it the stamp of mutual clingyness?

What about all those people who fall into the grey areas... the friends that turned into lovers and back into friends? The boys that became a momentary lover and have been demoted into friend status in order to avoid any further hurt or regret? The people with whom instant connections have been made and yet time and schedules have ceased any regular contact? Who are all these people and why do they all get the same blanket title?

We fall in and out of love, we meet surprising new people, we connect with strangers and turn a one night stand into a long term understanding, we see our coworkers turn from a chat near the dishpit to a bar down the street on a weekly basis....

They all mean something different and are in my life for very different reasons and for that the term friend doesn't seem to apply to any of them. Friend is tossed around so loosely and sometimes without meaning, other times for all the wrong reasons. It seems to devalue why I love the people I do.

How can you go from wanting a sign saying "just married" to forcing a sign on the relationship saying "just friends"?

It makes no sense. No sense at all.

Friday, March 23, 2007

a day in the life

I tried to go to class and ended up dancing in the streets at 1pm.
"Nooooo THIS is how gay men dance."

I tried to see Al Gore and David Suzuki speak at Place d'Armes yesterday and instead ended up with a 1.5 L bottle of champagne in a converted shoe factory talking my way out of the headquarters of an separatist election campaigner. But only after my friend and I used their facilities.
"Uhm, I don't think they can help us break into your friend's loft..."

I tried to go swimming and ended up dancing in my bikini to Kriss Kross and Salt-n-Pepa.
"In your nice jeans, you give me nice dreams, ooo ooo OOOO! when you do, what you do, you make me wanna shoop..."

I tried to eat at a pizza parlour and ended up running away from scary homeless men in the village.
"DAMN, and I left my heroin at home..."

I tried to go to Parking and ended up piling into a one-person peep-show booth with 3 of my friends.
"Are you all friends?"
"Yeah, we are all really close..."

I tried to go home and ended up at Club Date where a queen was singing a duet.... solo.
"That's not versatility, that's multiple personalities."

I'm overstimulated and undernourished. And I have to move far far far away from the village. There is just too much to do in this neighbourhood.
"Maybe I should throw up. That's what people do when they drink this much, right?"

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

how to survive in today's world

watch inconvenient truth and stop global warming
read easy way to stop smoking and quit the habit
learn about veganism and save the animals (and your body)
buy a membership to the YMCA and live till you are 90
write a play and change the face of canadian theatre
shop at local stores and bring down the big corporations

think about the whole world and become selfless.

or

fall asleep in gore's movie and feel even worse about the world because you couldn't even stay awake while thinking about the world's biggest crisis and to hell with it all because you are tired because of your own biggest crisis to date and if we get sucked into an ice age that's fine because clearly we all suck at taking care and maybe humans just need to be wiped out and let the next species attempt to not fuck it up so bad

buy a new pack of smokes and hide that goddamn book because if you start reading it somehow you end up smoking more anyways and then you have to go back to the dep and indirectly announce that you have bought your one way ticket to the happy land of emphysema

eat a steak and don't think about the animal because you are hungry dammit and there must be a reason we are higher than they are on the food chain but cling to the fact that at least you don't eat higher up on the chain because that's wrong so conclude that as long as you eat chickens trout and cow its okay as long as you don't touch shark

let exercise tapes collect dust and then cab to the bar and announce that alcohol will preserve your body till old age better than exercise and cite keith richards mick jagger and david bowie as evidence that it must be true

decide you can't write and read about other people's pseudo-brilliance and get mad about shitty art that keeps getting grants and decide that you are a grassroots performer but only because grassroots is a better word than apathetic po-mo artiste

go to walmart because you can't afford locally produced anything and decide you like your toilet paper cheap and unrecycled and you like your strawberries full of hormones from california

think about the whole world and hope to god someone else will be selfless for you.

Monday, March 19, 2007

Why a good Irish lass shouldn't go out on March 17th

I swear I'm not a fighter. I would be a vegan hippie if only my favorite animal wasn't steak and if I didn't enjoy showering frequently. But in true Irish fashion, I found myself in a fight on St. Patrick's Day.

I showed up to Cabane 2 hours late, greeted all of my friends with a warm and tipsy hug, ordered a pitcher and did what every well bred lady does: went out for a smoke. Two drags later, 3 of my friends who were accompanying me in the nicotine fix, noticed a group of angry young punk wannabes walking towards us. The only girl in the group was mouthing off about nothing at all and when she saw us, she targeted one of my friends.

Being a lovely little drunk, my friend tried to pacify the situation by saying "Hey, there's no problem here, we are just havin a smoke... happy st-pats!" The angry punk twat (APT for short) flipped out and started giving my friend shit. One thing led to another and next thing you know APT lunged at my friend to smack her. I broke my peaceful silence to say something like "Don't fucking touch my friend!"

That was mistake number one.

Now APT is after me, mouthing off and well, I don't take kindly to stupidity so I keep responding with "Just go fuck yourself" and of course, I added in the ever insulting smirk-like laugh.

That was mistake number two.

APT who has long forgotten my friends walked up to me and hit me twice on my head. I flipped and screamed bloody murder.

Note mistake number three.

APT threw whatever was in her hand down, ripped her jacket open, got in my face to scream "WANNA FIGHT? WANNA GO, BITCH?!" I walked right up to her, raised my smoke in a fist and yelled "YOU DON'T WANNA FUCK WITH ME."

Okay, see that was mistake number four, but it clearly blows all the other misdeeds right out of the water.

Then APT slapped me. Bitch style. I smirked because well, I was braced for a brawl. I was ready for fists, tackling, anything really... but not a stupid bitch fight. Then I think, well, let's play this game.... so I lunged at her cat clawing, bitch-slapping and shoving until it was a flurry of a full blown chick fight.

Definately mistake number five.

Then something happened - I stumbled - and in the split second I felt a bit off balance I thought "Either I get up right this moment, take her down and end this bullshit... or get the hell out of here right this moment because I don't want to fight, I didn't want to fight, and quite frankly - this whole situation is getting really dumb really fast." So I watched myself slowly fall to the snow as one of my friends said "Get inside the bar, NOW."

So I got up, went inside and faced the table full of 10-15 of my friends all staring, jaws hanging and eyes like saucers. They watched me as I beelined for the bathroom to collect myself. By this point I'm wondering why my face stings and I look down to the ground and see blood...

I realize that APT had somehow managed to make my nose bleed despite not being able to actually cause any pain whatsoever. She also clawed my cheek - a series of three little wounds that are the evidence that I got into a scrap. Evidence that I greatly resent.

So, I did what every well bred lady does after a fight and I ordered a round of tequila shots for the table and cheered every last drop of my Irish blood.

After I went inside, APT turned back to the friend she originally attacked but quickly stopped because this friend of mine had turned insane during my scrap and was now being held back by two of my other friends. So APT continued her journey north on the Main, saw some girls heading her way and began instigating a fight with them. I betcha she got hers by the time she hit Mont-Royal.

My night also took me north on the Main to Mont-Royal where I was greeted at an apartment by a guy wearing white boxer-briefs, a tie and a sock on his right hand. This special specimen then passed out on the floor while my friend and I drank some of his leftover beer and laughed about the hilarity of the evening.

I love potatoes. I love beer. But drunken fights on the Irish holiday? Thanks but no thanks. I think that next year, I might just stay home.

Saturday, March 17, 2007

tip:
don't fix it if it ain't broke
question:
can someone tell me how to put a border between the main content and the sidebar?
fact:
despite everything that is wrong with this new layout, i am most concerned with a stupid border.

Another move

This is the 5th apartment I have had since moving to montreal and I'm just finishing my 3rd year. 7 roommates, 5 apartments from NDG to Hochelaga and through most of those moves, I've carted two cats with me.

It's time to do it again.

Now that I'm living on my own, I'm face to face with a whole lot of things a 22 year old shouldn't be left alone with. When I had 2 consecutive knee surgeries 3 years ago, I had a good 6 months to work through my mind and it wasn't all fun and games. But in retrospect, it was pretty refreshing. Usually at 19 people just start running - I came to a full stop and I think it's the perfect time to do so. Just hitting independence and fate tells you to shut up and put it all into perspective.

But at 22? It's feeling a bit like overkill. I need to run, I need to fly around, I want to be completely free and sitting around my apartment surrounded by utter chaos is just not working. I can watch another movie, call another friend, cry about past loves, argue with my dirty dishes, stare at the sunset and then when I'm sick of that, go get annihilated at a bar.

And maybe living with someone wouldn't be all that different. Wouldn't we just be doing all the same things together? We watch movies, call people, cry to each other, argue with each other about dishes and when we got sick of all that, we would probably go get annihilated at a bar.

Perhaps that is exactly what I'm missing. A compadre, a partner in crime. Someone that will be around when I wake up hungover and we can giggle about the debauchery together. Someone that will be around to kick my ass when I have another ideological struggle with my dishes. Someone to make sure that I'm fed, watered and not too introspective. And someone that I can return all the favors to.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

its electrifying when you see this every day
in a search to find happiness and solace
i think that seeing the sparkle of the city i chose as my home
live and breathe below me is more important than ever
especially when you live in a 1.5
having a view that stretches past la ronde makes me feel like i live in a castle
now the only thing is to get up enough courage to stand on my 10th floor balcony
i might just be able to take a picture of my own
however this view is only about 2 blocks away and for that i bless the internet in all it's glory

Grocery shopping is overrated. But getting taken out for dinner by your boss is incredibly underrated.

I mean, why go buy yourself some milk at the local IGA when you can order a nice bottle of whatever your heart desires?

Why attempt to cook when you can be served 3 courses?

And why get strange looks from fellow grocery shoppers for stepping out of the house in PJ's when you can get funny looks from the entire restaurant for looking like cheap arm fluff?

I mean, the choice is pretty simple here, is it not?

and therein lay the issue

I was afraid you'd hit me if i'd spoken up I was
afraid of your physical strength I was afraid
you'd hit below the belt I was afraid of your
sucker punch I was afraid of you reducing me
I was afraid of your alocohol breath I was afraid
of your complete disregard for me I was afraid
of your temper I was afraid of handles being
flown off of I was afraid of holes being punched
into walls I was afraid of your testosterone

I have as much rage as you have
I have as much pain as you do
I've lived as much hell as you have
and i've kept mine bubbling under for you

you were my best friend
you were my lover
you were my mentor
you were my brother
you were my partner
you were my teacher
you were my very own sympathetic character

I was afraid of verbal daggers I was afraid of the
calm before the storm I was afraid for my own
bones I was afraid of your seduction I was afraid
of your coercion I was afraid of your rejection
I was afraid of your intimidation I was afraid of
your punishment I was afraid of your icy silences
I was afraid of your volume I was afraid of your
manipulation I was afraid of your explosions

I have as much rage as you have
I have as much pain as you do
I've lived as much hell as you have

and i've kept mine bubbling under for you
you were my best friend
you were my lover
you were my mentor
you were my brother
you were my partner
you were my teacher
you were my very own sympathetic character

you were my keeper
you were my anchor
you were my family
you were my saviour

and therein lay the issue

and therein lay the problem

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

can't not

i'd be lying if I said I was completely unscathed
I might be proving you right with my silence or my retaliation
would I be letting you win in my non reaction?
how would I explain?
how would I explain this to my children if I had them?
because I can't not
because I can't not
because I can't afford to be misread one more time
would I be whining if I said I needed a hug?
would you feel slighted if I said your love's not enough?
how can I complain?
how can I complain when i'm the one who reaches for it?
because I can't not
because I can't not
because I cannot walk without my crutches
because I can't not
because I can't not
because I can't help wonder why you ask me
to all the unheard wisdom in the schoolyard
you think you're the right ones
you think you're the charmed ones i'm sure
how can you go on with such conviction?
and who do you think you are why do you question me?
because we can't not
because we can't not
because we can't help laugh at underestimations
because we can't not
because we can't not
because we can't afford to be misled one more time
because we can't not
because we can't not
because we cannot help without your willingness
why do you affect me? why do you affect me still?
why do you hinder me? why do you hinder me still?
why do you unnerve? why do you unnerve me still?
why do you trigger me? why do you trigger me still?

Monday, March 12, 2007

weight loss muscle tension nausea heartache
sleep deprivation stuffy nose apathy heartache
clammy palms lethargy anxiety heartache
memory loss vertigo drowsiness heartache

if only my symptoms would fit into iambic pentameter
coulda been poetry

Saturday, March 10, 2007

the unbearable heaviness of hair

Last month my friends and I were hammered by 3pm and not in the bad way it was drunk in the bond till our faces fall off way and in the way that sordid sex secrets were made public to everyone in the room. By 7pm at one of their apartments I was so drunk I wanted to shave all my hair off. So I saw a razor on a table and announced "TODAY I'M CUTTING MY HAIR". So my friend ran to get scissors and a better razor and he chopped off my ponytail for me. Then I chopped away and gave myself a really cute bob cut. Layered and everything.

The last time I cut my hair off it was following a summer where some asshole broke my heart. Not even truly broke my heart because I was lacking in the soul department that year, but he did hurt me. When I mentioned to him that I wanted short hair again he protested saying all sorts of stupid things. So I kept it long for him. But when he was gone, so was the hair.

I grew my hair out recently for me. Also because of someone in my life. It wasn't forced upon me but part of the reason, however small, I did keep it long for him. After the break-up, I chopped it off. Nearly shaved it to boot.

Now, Britney just shaved her head. She did it after my impulse, and well, to be honest, I completely understand.

But I also understand that it didn't make her feel better. You feel light for about 2 days. Then you just start noticing that there is weight everywhere and the hair was just the easiest thing to get rid of.

You can cut your hair and buy new clothes. You can even clean everything you own to avoid a memory surfacing when it is least expected. You can pack things that remind you of someone away in a box. But you cannot feel lighter.

You can, however, feel a nasty draft at the back of your neck when the wind howls.

dreaming

since living on my own my prophetic and mesmerizing dreams have returned
i remember colours and smells and feelings
i wake feeling better

but my waking dreams
the ones that used to drive me and ground me and give me hope for the future
are all gone
they dropped off

i have more drive for my work
more pride in my day
living moment by moment is far more interesting than i thought

but the future - elusive shadow it is - got more cyptic
it is completely unknown
and not because my life just changed drastically
it's because my waking dreams of a happy ride off into the sunset no longer keep me company

and i don't know if i want them back

i just don't know if its right to connect to reality through the hopes and dreams we have
and isn't this at the heart of every metaphysical debate?
is it my concrete existence that makes me real or is it my ability to dream that forms my reality?

why do i miss those hoop dreams so much?
life was simpler and less elusive with a certain stability
the future was spoke of in the past tense
the present was a means to get to there

now even my verb tenses need reevaluation

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

jack?

jack bauer where are you?
i know i channeled your spirit a while back
but like dude
i have a problem or two

all of westmount either went broke or found another restaurant to go to
now i'm broke
wanna rob from the rich terrorists and hand it to the poor?
or force them all from their homes and into my restaurant by planting some bomb on the mountain?
(but don't kill anyone, they all have to be alive in the restaurant so they can tip me)

i have a test to do tomorrow
can you arrange to meet the ex-president with a sketchy past on the 4th floor of the hall building
then have a huge shoot-out so i don't have to write the test?
thanks

muchos appreciated, man.

oh and hows about you pitch to the guys over at 24 that you need a hot little sidekick
i would make a great secret service agent
and if i can't be one in real life, at least let me play one on tv
just like 5 episodes or so
you can even kill me off afterwards
no big deal
i won't hold it against you

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

last night

so my friend told me he likes to get drunk alone sometimes
he said it was liberating

so i sat down with a box of wine that was a house warming present from my old roomie

the first glass was normal
the second and third pretty fine
then i realized i was out of food and getting drunk fast
so i had to keep drinking to forget the hunger

then next thing you know

im doing bumps of drugs off my hand
watching brokeback mountain
and suddenly i felt like shit

it could have been the drugs i shouldn't have done alone
it could have been ang lee fucking with my head
but i think it was the cheap wine

in fact, safe to say, it was the cheap wine

but ang lee didn't help at all

suddenly it was 4am and i had written about 8 pages of bad poetry

exhibit a:

i kiss red wine with blood stained lips
i am a woman
and i will make love to a crocodile
and i have
fucked you.

(i don't even know why those last sentences were written...)

exhibit b:

you have to make a choice
otherwise its
(facing up to an ultimatum)
its a choice we make in order
to lose nothing
to not lose love
to lose love
in order to gain nothing

(yeah and that doesn't make a lick of sense)

and those are the best bits.
makes me wonder... what's more pathetic... that "poetry" or the fact i was drunk alone?

so i learned a lesson that i will carry with me for my whole life:

do not get drunk alone.
and if you must, drink really really nice wine that you can't afford, don't pick up a pen (or the vial of drugs on the table next to you, for that matter) and do not, under any circumstance, watch ang lee anything.

you leave 1.50$ on a 150$ bill... yeah i'm gonna say something.

you add only 5$... yeah i have enough guts to point out your gross mathematical error.

you pretend you don't know what 15% means... yeah i think it's safe to say that you are pretty fuggin dumb.

you pull ditz and tell me you are going to the bank so you don't have to put 20$ on your credit card... yeah i'm not dumb... yeah i know you are not coming back.


waitressing is one thing. dealing with twits for 6.50$ over the course of 2 hours is something completely different.