in due time

...everything runs its course.


things go back to the way they were. i'm back here waffling. i have nothing to give to anyone.
guys are lame here though- no thanks!


just because i let you massage me doesn't mean you're moving in. go home!
the only one i want is _____ and he is crazy.
yum!

If the writing is good, it is such a pleasure.

If the writing is bad, get it out.

this must be new to me! i have lost it!

come in to my world, my mind, and my keyboard. See the dust settled.

inhale one strong breath and blow for me. blow onto me, into my lungs, until they open for you.

i want to get pumped up by you, and your life force! Be generous to me and i’ll heal you too. I need to be cared for, to be pushed. i’m dying to be on fire again. please don’t let this computer die, or my mind wither. my organs are starved of creative life. i need it back, i twitch inside my mind until i fall asleep, and then i twitch in my dreams. Iiam dying in the desert, it’s a five, six, seven year draught. please, water me.

this is such amazing pain, and such fun to reread. these exercises bring me back, they do! ive been writing again! and reading ________’s blog, a joy, like two kids doing what they have always wanted to do, only older now and on the cusp of a new decade. i’m thirty years old and that means nothing anymore. it used to mean fear, or being uncomfortable. NOW IT IS NOTHING. no, i’m not afraid. i’ve seen older people that hate themselves but i will just keep writing, beucase when i stop, that’s when i’m afraid. i can’t keep going on these fumes. i’m time travelling back five, six, seven years. Ii love to travel, but this is not for pleasure, it’s for my life. it’s for meaning, for intensity, for feeling. it’s for wanting to be alive again. it’s for every minute i haven’t wanted to do anything. Ii’s for not caring. it’s for thirst, and it’s for me,and i'll bring it back to you.

even a big change seems easy at the exact second you make up your mind. but that second is only the spark that sets the fire. it seems like an inspired, logical thing (whatever it is you've decided to do) and actually, it is. but sometimes your whole life will get shuffled around as a result of that second. you may want to turn around and go back...mom, take me home!...but keep on it and things come to you. i just keep telling myself that over and over. right now i'm at my computer with a heavy gold chain around my neck and my computer on my lap. my eyes are smudged with eyeliner and i'm pretty sure some of it is smeared around my face, since i've been swiping at my eyes periodically. i've just had a "second" a few minutes ago. i'm already mourning the things in my past that i will let go. i'm ready to explain to people why i've made a change. i'm letting go of someone i love and i am terrified of doing this. i don't want him to be with anyone else. i don't want to hurt him. i don't want to move on, i'm scared, so scared that i will never again experience the feelings i've experienced with him. but i know everything in life is timing. that, and commitment. and work. i'm not there, i can't find a second to change my life to the extent i need to be with him. i'm going to be alone in my heart for a while, and keep people at arms length. i was a told i do this the other day. it's  very true. i don't want anyone but _____. haven't since i met him really, it's eery. soulmates you could say if you were a person inclined to use cliches, which i try not to be. but i digress, this is not about him, but about the experience i am having right now, calming down writing, here with watery eyes and a heavy heart and a strange, distracting throbbing in my _____, the old compulsions making their way to the surface already. i'm alone for now, except when i let people in for a while, but then i send them back again after i'm done- i must see someone for these sociopathic tendencies. one day. until then, i am releasing and relaxing and contracting in pain when i remember the one i let go, in that curious little second that was the catalyst for who knows what.

damn u

not just a prince song anymore.
a state of mind! goddamn it, you occupy so much of my time. my head is clanging with you.
i can't even write anymore or paint or draw
well i can
i just don't make the time. i want to

imagine
if we lived together it would be horrible. i'm just convinced of this. we're so immature
you make me want to strange you, you're so irrational!
but sexy...
and funny. you're getting older and you're still up for many things.

i'm getting older too.
but i just want to be alone, and see you often, and
listen to you sleeping a few nights a week but miss you the other nights
since it's what i'm used to. it doesn't bother me being alone.
there are always people to call who make me feel good.

most of the time i'm working for them- my friends are gorgeous but exhausting
i work for you as well
you are the most high maintenence person i've ever met
i must love it though?

delish

passion you can't fake

animal

the animal i am
i want more all the time
are you this way?

help me to slow down the hunger
i devour the sidewalk i walk upon
i'm so fucking hungry
for more

when i come toward you with my smile
like an automatic weapon

i love you though
i don't mean to
hurt
but i like to so much
sometimes

it's so delicious
and so undeniable

though i have eaten salmon and occasionally other seafood over the past four years (since quitting all other meats and dairy), i have been passive about voicing my opinion to others about their meat consumption. i figure if they want to eat animals, there is nothing i can do about it. everyone wants to strangle the self-righteous vegetarian, and no one likes to know what it is they are actually putting in their mouths.
no one cares! it's so easy not to care.

we grow up thinking it is necessary to eat animals. that it is a sign of prosperity, and that it is delicious.
i used to cook pork chops and steaks for my ex-boyfriend when we lived together. i never liked eating the meat. i ate it because he "needed" it- he felt "weird" when he didn't eat meat with every meal. in my experience, this is not uncommon among men. i have a few girlfriends who love a charcuterie plate more than a good session of pussy eating.

and how judgmental we are of others.
vegetarians and vegans are, in my opinion, not as bad as the meat eaters!
we may hear a guy from alberta say he hates people who don't eat steak: sumthin' wrong with 'em.
my ex mother in law was from wisconsin, the dairy state. she covered everything in arm's length with a pound of butter and cheddar cheese. she was a fat, moody crier.
i grew up on the west coast of canada. i like salmon. it's dark orange-red, clean. these are the associations i have. it makes you feel good, it's "brain food".
it's still... a dead animal.
untreated by antibiotics (wild salmon, anyway), out of the cold waters an hour away. not raised in a stall in the dark, starved, medicated, injected, defeated, untouched, prodded, abused, filled with fear and wildness, before dying in a surge of adrenelin and desperation that fills every cell with the pain of its life before it hits your plate....
...but an animal nonetheless.

i can rationalize any way i want. so can you. but the reality is, we have no excuse anymore. with the availability of information at our fingertips we should be ashamed that to eat an animal is to vote for death. this torture is the very example of luxury, success, good business. globalization. millions of animals slaughtered to feed our fat mouths and the mouths of our children. to be educated about the fuel that powers your body is true power.

steaks, filets, chops, breasts, sausages, casseroles, stews, mince. our intestines clogged with the decaying flesh of any animal that in its natural setting would be grazing, snuffling, running, nudging, breeding, swimming, pecking, frolicking, raising its babies. for what- so we can get cancer in our 40's, even 30's? so we can be sluggish, fat, "tired", medicated, processed, wrapped in cling wrap and frozen?

our heads are  up our own asses. removal would be so easy, but like europeans ignoring the holocaust becuase admitting reality would be too hard to live with, we continue to consume, and vote with our dollars everyday in favour or enslavement, torture and slaughter of innocent animals.

things were better back then

right now i'm like an old man stroking my wife's disgusting veiny hand and staring into space, mumbling about how much i miss the days of yore....only i'm by myself wearing shorts that are possibly illegal (definitely not arab-friendly) and alone, as usual, with the hum of the fridge.

LOOK AT HER. I MEAN, JUST LOOK!!!!

the hair, the face, the breasts, the voice, the jumpsuit. the lack of gameplaying with the lens. the talent that you can feel, the emotion.
dude....THINGS WERE BETTER BACK THEN!
or were they??
uhhh..psssshaaaa, when it came to living in vancouver you bet your ass they were.
i've grown up hearing the stories; you and your stoner friends each throwing in 50 bucks a month to rent a seaside mansion; nude beach inspired orgies; rolling out of university into a decent paying job.
not to mention the zany clothes, mountains of lsd fueled fuck sessions, and the best music ever written!!

i guess people still had the same concerns, trials, tribulations, and ailments they have now back then, but it just seems so much more exhausting now. the lack of privacy these days is really getting to me. since i'm tall and exotic looking (read: kind of strange), i've had strangers come up to me lots of times and ask to take my picture. i've always said yes, thinking they will just take the snapshot home to germany or japan or wherever and glance at it maybe a few times in their lives, perhaps not even. but now it makes a creepy feeling come over me.
"they are going to put this online," i think, and then someone will download it, or at least look at it, and i will never meet that person but they will have seen me and to see me is to know me.


times are viral!
the whole world has going viral! look at all those little d-bags at the canucks riots who thought they were invisible (or didn't care) and now half the country and people all over the world have seen their zitty faces grinning as they lit up a cop car or threw a garbage can through the window of a pizza joint.
i hear there is a no hire policy for five years enforced for those individuals who were recognized. that means if they want to apply for a job as a fuckin sandwich artist at subway the owner can google the nerd's name and BOOM you, sir, are not for hire.
you are the weakest link- goodbye! (these days if you drop that line people stare at you blankly.)
you are going to be in a world of suck for a looooong time!

even the friendly neighbourhood flasher on the commuter train isn't there anymore- too many cameras. maybe he took his show on the road, or went with the classic "hide in outhouse" method.
though i heard that was an urban legend.

i'm over everything being photographed. narcissism is only fun if you pre-approve everything that is recorded, and half the fun in that is knowing your audience. if your audience is potientially the whole world, dang! no fun in that! i feel i should include an asterix here*

if a time machine ever gets invented for real- not like back to the future, or the one uncle rico bought in napoleon dynamite but a real bonfide, badass time machine- i'm setting it to a fleetwood mac concert in 1978 and having sex with 28,467 men, women and farm animals in one night on six hits of acid, a field of mushrooms, twelve grams of cocaine and three hundred handrolled marijuana cigarettes while wearing an orange corduroy thong and eating a can of spam. you can all kiss my ass. even though i'd be dead at the end of the night, at least no one would know what i'd done- unless they forgot to burn one of the polaroids.

*not that anyone gives a shit about me, or you, anyway

thank you terry fox

today marks the 30th anniversary of terry fox's death.

for those of you reading from other countries, you may or may not have heard the name. terry fox was raised just outside of my hometown, vancouver. since i was a little kid i ran the terry fox run every fall, and even throughout highschool would listen once a year as teachers, students, or anyone who wanted gave emotional speeches in his name.

terry fox died when he was only 21 years old, on june 28th, 1981. his right leg had been amputated a few years before, and though he continued to play sports in a wheelchair and run competitively, he was frustrated with the limitations his cancer imposed. he had an idea to run across canada and raise money for cancer research. he began the marathon of hope in 1980 in st. john's, newfoundland- his goal was to raise one dollar for every 24 million canadian citizens.

he was forced to stop running in thunder bay, ontario, after 143 days. he ran the equivilent of a marathon on each of those days, rain or shine, with one leg.
though i have been very lucky and healthy in this life and am blessed to have healthy people around me, i don't want to take this for granted, ever.

thank you terry fox.

i want the love that

makes me turn and listen to the bushes as i walk down a dark street
what is it?
>>>>>   LOVE   <<<<<<
it sounds so good in there
it makes every heart that walks by
skip a beat

....................................................................................................................................................................

the pages of the book are softly crisping against each other
there is a candle, perhaps, burning gently
on the table beside my bed
what is that light
what do you think it is
>>>>>   LOVE   <<<<<
of course

........................................................................................................................................................................

crickets in a hot desert at night
with rocks cooling and sighing beside them in the black
can only creak so brightly with
you to light them
i hear you. your persistence is attractive
since you follow gently and never push
i like when you take my hand and
guide me

.......................................................................................................................................................................

you are the only one i
>>>>>   LOVE   <<<<<

if it doesn't feel acceptable, it probably isn't.
and if it hurts, it isn't love.
right?

fuuuuuck.

baby, i

jaded me

now that i am 29, i can't believe how fast time is passing.
i used to look at a 29 year old and think: fuck!..take them out back and shoot them!
they are so old.
especially if they were clearly unsuccessful and a failure at life.
my friend tonight added, "and unmarried!"
i never noticed whether or not people were married though.
still don't.
i don't care about marriage, never have.

it seems so retarded! so impossible.
from another time. when people didn't ask questions, or travel beyond pages of the bible (or their fathers' command). before globalization, the internet, overcomplication.
honey, i'm jaded as a country singer with one black eye and a broken string on a greyhound heading back to omaha..."this will never work."
what's the point?
everyone changes, evolves or regresses, yearns to leave.
their hearts nailed to a couch with the grubby hands of children snatching. withering stares, mortgages. aging parents, cancer, alzheimers.
an obsession with pornography, drugs, youth. anything to inspire any feeling at all.

plus: everyone cheats.
i never used to, but now i do.
emotional insurance, _________ calls it.
he's a fag, and therefore has a realistic bar level in terms of expectations.
we want to fuck who we want to fuck when we want to fuck them!
we could all learn from this, if we were able to let go of our own insecurities. which, being heterosexual WASPs and emotionally stunted, is impossible.

put your balls or your pussy in a box, hand me the key, and shut your mouth when you're talking to me!
"i do."
ugh. spare me- i'm not even married or in a relationship and i'm over it.

if sex is a pain in the ass
you're doing it wrong

-rodney dangerfield

may his immortal words resonate
for all eternity.

bring me something

change is the best
if it happened everyday there would be no need for periodic drastic change
it would just be consistent, natural, organic, and flowing one event into the next
breakfast lunch dinner
meet greet defeat
i'm loving these new days of noneventfulness and work and routine
with change being something i need not acknowledge
for right now at least
it just happens
and happens
again

i guess today was full. like tuesday or saturday it just came and went and here i am at the end of it, saying "seeya later" and
"what the hell happened today",
retrospect being less than nothing.
a bottle of pinot and who cares about time and circumstance, professionalism, names to remember and
moreover:
who cares about chapters in life
unfolding daily yet not impressing me at all.

and YOU!

you're like gravel in my shoe that follows my footprint everywhere
annoying and still a part of me
and you are together
and you annoy me
and follow me
and leave your prints on my cups and my lips ache
your full mouth dirty and swirling with words
my eyes dropping to the ground imagining with each step your pebble is there!

go away
and yet stay!
stay with me

forever would be the best,
i'm a highschool kid with a flaming case of something.
you gave it to me.
thank you

enough is enough

just fuck off!!!!!

commandments

buy land, cuz god ain't makin any more of it.
yeah, thanks! tell "god" he can kiss my ass...and speaking of land, i'm moving to rural BC, the uncharted part, where no other human vermin can find me.
"god" is happy to let too much slide on this planet, and i'm sick of hearing about it!
with kazillions of hypocrites "praising" him.

pass the hat and grab a brain!
it's time to get realistic:

resources
production
globalization
food
land
water
natural disasters
disease

...we have more important things to think about than what happens after we die.

on earth right now... a creepy world
entire cities built with no one to inhabit them. massive lakes with hundreds of thousands of gold fish and real estate and towers and stadiums and hotels and not a soul inhabiting. i am legend... hold the movie star. talk to china about finance and about starvation- masters of duality, as we here in the western world strive to be, swiping credit cards and hoping no one will notice...where is the money? there is none (for so many), but there are factories. and there is always productivity.
and global takeover.
the chinese are smarter, faster, and
better
than
you.
with ideas and money to make things happen.

one of china's empty cities

let's be honest
money
is god

and
the
house
of
god
is
a
b a n k.

the future of your planet



our world

our problems

such dichotomy should not exist.
and if god existed, he surely would not allow it
or have created a species who does.

the scroll

recently i have been discovered, and outed, by my own media.

i'm not referring to the instantly accessible and vacuous land of social networking,or even emailing or faxing. because faxes are sheets of paper sailing quickly and invisibly through the atmosphere, they are very hard to intercept.
nor am i referring to someone eavesdropping on a phone call or rooting through my mailbox to tear open a secret letter with glee. no sir...
i'm talking about the scroll.

i keep a scroll in a glass tube duct taped to the underside of my bed. glued to the outside of the scroll are several seagull feathers and the skeleton of a minnow for a "message in a bottle" kind of effect- it looks great, and every time i stick my head under there to look i feel like christopher columbus without the hat.

the ship navigates the stormy waters of the subconscious
what is contained in the bottle?

the scroll of my life:
the story of how i grew.

the bottle which popped from my lips as warm, squirming baby.
the screaming in my brother's face at age seven.
_____'s dad's stolen "green death" cigarettes at tweleve. the black woods where we went at night, stupidly, to smoke them.
the virginity that was taken in an almost holy manner at sixteen- the sweat, the candles, the absurdity.
the long road trip at twenty-one. two weeks in the car, never once behind the wheel!
the breakup at twenty-six that goes on and on.
the rain tonight as i walked in my new shoes downtown, umbrella pointing to the sky.

retrospect written in code on the scroll in the glass case of my life under the bed.

these stories have not been written for me, they have been written for you to hear. evaluate, compare and contrast.
ask me anything- i want to tell.
and i want to hear, too.

where do you keep your bottle?