Thurs, Nov 29/01 9:49pm
Is it scary that I associate so much with Michael Douglas' character from the movie Falling Down? Like, until the end, anyhow, when he goes nutty over his wife and kid. But when he's pissed off and causing shit... beating up that nazi guy, lipping off to the convenience store owner, fucking up the Whammy Burger... I mean, that's good stuff, is it not?
It's a fucking zoo around here when 8:30 Thursday night rolls around. The Family Guy causes way too much uproar upstairs by the fucknut gallery. Redheaded Chris and the neighbour JC, and now I think they've even lured Jason into it... well, they get so fucking pointlessly loud and it's so irritating. They don't even get half the jokes, and when they do, it takes a whole second before they realize it IS funny, and guffaw out their retard laughter.
So loud, so very loud. Ugh.
Wed, Nov 28/01 10:30pm
Okay, so that's all done with. Fuck, I was looking pretty rough near the end. Well, feeling rough is more like it. Full update to come a bit later, when I put everything together. Hopefully my bad case of LAZY will wear off in the not too distant future and I'll be useful to someone somewhere.
So now I'm just chillin'. Class today was fairly blah, psychology wasn't even that interesting. Fuck, what was it even about? I don't remember at ALL, that's funny.
I woke up around 8:30 tonight after crashing around 1:00, to a letter. A disturbing birthday card, which I really hope was forged by my father. It reads: "I had this big plan to jump out of your birthday cake and do an exotic dance for you... then I remembered my fear of fire!"
What's so fucked up about that?
It's signed by my grandmother.
Wed, Nov 28/01 6:22am
This whole night of writing is really just a descent into madness, I realize that now. As the night/morning has worn on, I've just become more and more screwed up in my writings. Man.
I think Hoover's going to be up soon. I don't know if he needs to use the phone this morning or not, it depends if it's a school day or a work day for him. Something tells me it might be a work day, since the last two were school days.
I guess I'll go offline now for the duration of the morning, but I think I'll keep keeping notes in my little notepad as the day goes on. It should be fucking interesting, to say the least.
This morning's insanity is brought to you by the letter C, and the number 9.
Wed, Nov 28/01 5:53am
Well that certainly didn't take long. I'm referring to both the picking out of clothes and the crashing of the computer. Moving your mouse is not supposed to trigger a fatal exception or system error, dammit. It's this fucking scroll button mouse, I know it. It sucks that I'm hooked on the scroll button, or else I'd probably get half the crashes I do now. Fucking Getright bastards. They're as bad as crank dealers. Haha, crank... I love that word.
But yeah, clothes. I figure I'll wear my newly re-discovered USSR shirt (which was hiding at the bottom of the dirty clothes pile before I did laundry), my pin-zipper jeans (named so because they have safety pins where the zipper should be... because the zipper got torn out), and a cardigan for warmth on the journey to school. Mmmmmhmmmn.
I have about 17 hairs in the middle of my man-boobs trying to start some type of body-hair revolution. It also seems that some of the dark troops stationed around each of my nipples are migrating to join the new flock in the middle ground as well.
'McDonalds Girl'. I'm listening to that song on mp3, by the Barenaked Ladies. I don't know who first wrote it, but it's killer, I love it. And the words could easily be changed to 'Taco Bell Girl', it's surprising how easily.
Crazy was yipping at me earlier in the eve. Not Kingdom-Crazy, but ol' Crazy Fruit. It's a shame she never did see Taco Bell Girl, so she could see what I am/I was out for, and that she aint it. I don't remember the list Crazy gave me completely of how she fits into the niche of girls I like, but I remember some of the incorrect ones included skaters, intelligents, and... frig, what else? Well, lets go through the whole list, getting back to intelligents later. Ohh, sane! That was the other thing! But the list, the list! Uh... short red hair, skater/skaterish, intelligent, sane, punk/punkish... if there was other stuff I don't remember. So yeah. Personally, I'm off skaters, just because. I don't like skater guys that much, so I'm crossing off skater girls. I've had nothing but bad or failed attempts at romantic relationships with them. As a personal opinion, which is what *all* of this is, in case you're new to the idea of a personal journal, I either don't approve of her as being intelligent or just don't accept her level, I'm not sure which. And sane... well, that's up for debate too. But isn't everything? I sure hope so. If things weren't... Jack would be a dull boy. Hmn, I started off talking about tbg and ended up being dull. Lets go back to tbg, just for a minute, til I get a warm feeling. Mmm, Taco Bell Girl. So short, such wonderful short copper hair, so nice and polite and considerate. A brainer too. I'm positive she has a thick, juicy brain in that head of hers. I wonder if I'll ever see her again...
I miss my Megan. All the way over in England she is, all alone. Poor girl. It's either 4 or 6 hours difference there, I can't remember. So she's either having some sort of malnutritious lunch right now, or... or it's 10:08, I don't know. Aww, Megan come home!
It's not a flattering feeling when your underwear feels big. It's like your cocknballs are shrinking or something, which is definitely something I *don't* need to happen. Anything more and you won't be able to tell what's in my pants from your average cocktail weenie. At least I don't have monstrous balls too, that'd be a sick and cruel combination.
I just re-read that underwear paragraph. I need serious fucking help.
You know what? There's no way in hell that I could list off all the people who have seen my ass. I've shown my ass to so many people it's fucking unreal. Wow. Probably most recently was Hoover's girlfriend, but that was a while ago. She had a good reaction though. It consisted of screaming, "CHRIS!!" and then him and I laughing like hell.
Wed, Nov 28/01 5:13am
Mwa ha ha, back again, exactly an hour later. And what a productive hour! I went and checked out that teeth/dentures dream thing, and it was pretty much as I thought. The place I found leaned more to the approach that the dream has to do with other peoples perceptions of me, and the worry associated therein. And I think that has some merit. I mean, I tend to think I'm a good looking guy, and it gets kind of strange and worrysome that others don't tend to always think that way. Or at least, it's not expressed. Not like if you're a good looking girl, anyhow. Good looking girls often get more signs that they're hot than their male counterparts do. Of course, on the flip side of that, some guys will drool over just about anything. Ron the Donut King would be a prime example of such behaviour. Which reminds me, I should call that bastard this weekend or something. Oh, and I should call the theatre later tonight... there's a rehearsal tonight at 6pm, and if I call at 5:30 I should be able to get Cathering and Matt on the line.
On that topic, I'm strangely excited to be going home in the next three weeks or so. Well, more like 'surprisingly' than 'strangely'. See, the highlight of the whole adventure home is going to be the big fucking rocket I smoke with Catherine and Matt. Just because A) I've only smoked pot twice, and don't think it did anything either time, and I know Matt wouldn't skimp on the goods and really *wants* to see me baked and B) how often do you get to participate in illegal behaviour with your old math teacher? Fuck, Catherine's going to be hilarious... considering that we can actually get her into it. I don't see why not though, she's been really stressed recently... if pot gets her away from her chronic suicidal thoughts, I think that's definitely a victory.
I fucking love Tilt, but I can't find their cd's anywhere. But a-ha, the internet! Yep, I just put down 10 bucks total wager on a pair of Tilt discs on Ebay. Fucking right. Same seller too, and I should win both of them, so that equals reduced shipping costs. Seller said they didn't *really* dig the use of Paypal, but fuck 'em, that's *all* I use. Tilt man, yeah. That'd definitely aid the constant bus rides, yeah baby. Uhh... what else was I going to say on that topic? Fuck, I dont' remember. Damn, I'm going to be hilarious by the time psych class rolls around later this morning. Hells yeah. Did I actually just type 'hells yeah'? Oh fuck!
This is kind of fun. Well, more than kind of. I think I'll take all the journal entries for tonight and condense them into a piece of writing for my lunguistics section. That's the section that seems to get the most hits, next to this journal section. Now that leaves me once again wondering who reads all this, and if they take any enjoyment in it. I never know, apart from sparse and mysterious guestbook entries. Seems people don't approve of or appreciate any real poetic writing urges I get though. Pity, that's what I enjoy the most. It's where I'm most raw and naked... which I suppose isn't really a picture people want to have, right?
Oh, I remember now. This one line from the Tilt song 'Lips Tits Hips'...
"I got tired of that same old face, so I quit lookin' into the mirror..."
Now *that's* fucking logic. I admire that kind of problem solving, you know? That's not sarcasm, I really do. Like, how simple is that?! It's perfect! And it's written and sung by a woman! Simple simple simple! You can break everything down into it's basest parts, and if you can do that, you're fucking set for life, I think. Fuck, maybe there's hope for me afterall. Somewhere there's a secret society of rational, logical females, just waiting for me to stumble upon their lair. Yeah, the song just came on my winamp, yeah!
I'm saying 'yeah' altogether too much. That, and I'm still saying 'daddy' and 'baby' a lot, like some washed-up, moustachioed porn star eating a cheeseburger.
My regular time to get up is only an hour and a quarter away, but I'm still having doubts regardless. Oh, I do love my sleep so. I just need to keep reminding myself that it'll be better when I come back from class at 12:30 and just CRASH. It'll be fucking spectacular, it will.
I think I'm going to pick out what I'm going to wear... and then find something else to do too. Be back baby, oh, you *know* I'll be back.
Wed, Nov 28/01 4:13am
There's a certain point in the lifespan of popcorn where it reaches utter perfection. That's normally 8 or so hours *after* initial microwave popping. Fuck that's good stuff.
So I just spent the last 3 hours or so talking to a girl who has lung cancer and actually happens to live just down the road from me. Poor kid. She seems really positive, brave and optomistic about everything, and I hope in the end it's all justified. She's going in for surgery on the 5th in Toronto and is going to be stuck there for Christmas with a drip sticking into her chest. Fuck, does that every rot my heart out. I don't know man, cancer scares the fuck out of me. I mean, one day it's just *there*, and until something goes wrong, you don't know, and when that time comes, it can be too late. That is seriously fucked up, and I most definitely cannot get behind that. What exactly is the hold-up on the cure for that?!
So yeah... new subject. 3 hours to go til my bus arrives. Fuck, for the first time this year I might actually be able to shower before I go to class, rather than the night before. My bed is turning into a war zone, and it won't be long before these sheets are totally unsalvagable. I've now added coffee stains to the bedsheet, fuck am I ever a klutz.
So I had a couple of dreams in my earlier (5-10) nap. The ones I remember most clearly involve A) putting together an entire set of set items in Diablo II and having my character turn into some type of rusted gargoyle looking creature and B) having a set of really weird looking dentures which were partially transparent. I didn't realize why they were partially transparent until I took them out of my mouth and saw that I had some teeth left underneath them. I didn't quite get that, since the teeth I had left were in quite sorry shape anyhow, and were all either ready to be pulled, or just really sunken in or small... which reminds me of this girl at school who everyone thinks is pretty, but has really bad sunken/small teeth which I find absolutely hideous. Man, that was a long fucking sentence. One thing just kept relating to another in my head there. But like I was saying, the dentures & teeth. I had maybe 8 real teeth left, all sunken in, all covered in this yellowish fluid which seemed to be some kind of liquid tartar. Needless to say, it was really really disgusting. Now, I realize dreams about tooth loss are supposed to relate to control, but where do the dentures fit in? An artificial solution to my turmoil? Strange.
I think I'll take a little time and try to look that up, yo. I'll almost surely be back to write some more later, if my typing skills can keep holding up.
Wed, Nov 28/01 1:06am
I don't know how I do it. Fell asleep around 5:30, got up around 10:10, and here I am again at one in the morning. I hope to stay up all night, I think I can really get some things done if I do. Project stuff? Yeah, maybe. But more likely I'll end up upstairs with a pen and paper just writing. Despite earlier conditions of loneliness, I actually had a fairly wistful day.
Ahem. I just restarted. I can't wait for next year, when I spend my tax return on a new computer. That'll be the good stuff. But anyhow, as I was saying. Wistful, yeah baby, yeah. I spent the better part of the second bus ride to school just lost in daydream. This Sublime song, Santaria, has had a nice calmative, tranquilizer kind of effect on me lately. I was listening to the Sublime album I still have borrowed from Alana, and it just puts me in a kind of hazy mood when I really let it. I was day(if you can call 7:30 in the morning 'day')dreaming about... well, for some reason it almost feels embarassing, but what the hell. About... getting it right. About being in the middle of another hapless, innocent situation... maybe at the bus station or something, and out of the corner of my ear hearing this girl bitch. That's how it starts.
Bitching... about looking how she wants to look, and she wants to look punk, but her friends who think *they're* punk... they give her flak for it. They say to her how punk isn't a style of dress, so she shouldn't be bothering with spikes and leather and black and piercings. But why not?, she says. Why the hell not? It's all obviously things I myself would just love to hear. Because that's how I felt in BC this summer. I go there with my spikes and leather and black and piercings and mohawk, and the other punks had their noses up in the air, because they were so punk they didn't *have to* dress like that. Well fuck, I don't *have to* do anything! I like it, because I think it looks good, and because I think it looks good on other people, and I want to attract those people. Fucking pigs.
But yeah, I'm getting offtrack. My daydream... it kind of started there and went through years of time. And I couldn't control my smiling. I had to look out the window constantly to not look like I was completely insane. I hope I can produce that again tomorrow, fuck, would that ever be nice. Hm, I say tomorrow even though it's really today, and even though I do intend to not sleep again until after class. Kind of strange how ingrained on you night is, and the concepts of night vs. early morning vs. 'the next day' are. It's like shitting in your pants. I bet you couldn't do it. Some university did these studies and kept like 20 people in a room, and told them to shit their pants. They offered rewards and everything, but almost none of them could do it. Weird, huh?
Tues, Nov 27/01 11:41am
The true north strong and free, baby. Uh huh, here come da snow, mothafuckas.
I'm glad I didn't sleep in today, or else I would have just woken up, and there it'd be, and I'd be going crazy. It's still going pretty strong out there... the next time I go upstairs it could be up to mid-shin. Some of the locals say that the first snow always melts off and it heats up again... but I don't know about this. I feel differently on the matter.
So I don't know what the deal is on the matter, but I feel like the one guy I hang out with at school, Andre, is putting some distance in between us. Mair too, a bit. And when I thought I saw Alana just walk right by me, well, I wasn't doing too well this morning. It wasn't her though, and Mair seems fine... almost affectionate, which is strange as well... but there's still Andre. The two could be related... Andre has a boner for Mair, and maybe I'm not hallucinating, maybe she is feeling friendly. It's a possibility, anyhow.
So, I'm watching Ricki Lake, don't ask me why... and this suave big time dj guy has this classy date going on, right? Romantic-like dinner, horse drawn carriage ride... but while she's climbing into the carriage, they show a clip of him just staring at her ass. Fucking classy to the max, man, classy to the max. The guy looks like fucking Barry White to boot. Geez. Oh man, and check out this "slammin' dj"... looks like a fucking mongoloid. No wonder he has to go on a blind date.
Mon, Nov 26/01 1:47am
I've only written a couple of times this month, that's kind of odd. I guess I'm just busy with other crap, and the key word there really is 'crap'. Just... little nothings, really. And there's so many things I have to do too. Too bad they won't be done tomorrow... I have to get groceries and watch Raw. Basically I've got to email a whole bunch of people, do two projects that were assigned in the start of the year (so I guess they have to be done well, too), a half dozen computer projects, do some massive cleaning, and get my life in order. Doesn't sound like much, I know, but when you divide that between all the goofing off I want to do, it's pretty hard. I wish I could take all the hours I'm putting into Diablo with Hoover and make them be involved in something useful... that would be a fucking accomplishment!
So yeah. Today was laundry, and I did a fucking huge amount of laundry. I'm quite satisfied with myself on that. My arm was really hurting and I didn't think I'd be able to carry it all the way to the laundromat, but I surprised myself and played through the pain. During the drying cycle, I wandered over to Wendys for some of the good stuff, as usual. I had the new chicken bacon swiss burger, and hollleeeee shit, was that ever excellent! I long for the day when I find the female who brings me as much satisfaction and joy as that wonderful fast food outlet. Like, I don't know exactly what it was... it was totally the combination of everything. And it was a big fucking sandwich too! I almost didn't finish the combo, and in fact, there were a couple of fries sitting on the bottom of the fry-cup thing. Now *that's* something. That sauce though... ohhh boy. I have to find out what kind of fucking sauce that was, that weird-ass bbq sauce on it. It was like the stuff they used to put on the smoky bacon cheeseburger... fuck do I ever miss those burgers. Damn do I ever love food. But yeah, as I was saying... laundry. My arms is really going to be bad news tomorrow when I have to carry the groceries back from Sobeys. I'll be popping some pain killers then, I tell you.
Speaking of, Friday night we went to the liquor store for some goods. I picked up a six of Blue and a bottle of Jagermeister. Damn that's good stuff. I didn't realize how much I went through on Friday night until Saturday afternoon... I must have been *right* fucked.
I'm pretty hungry now, with all that Wendys talk earlier. I think my love for that place might be replacing the spot Taco Bell has in my heart, just because I don't have any access to a Taco Bell up here. Fuck, Brantford really was the shit for good fast food. There was totally a sliding scale there, for both cost and quality. At the bottom, but still a Brantford classic, you got your Eddies. A bit higher up you got McDonalds, then Pizza Pizza. Ahh, and then the greasy, nasty goodness of Pizza Perfect and Taco Bell. Finally at the top... Wendys. Anything you fucking want, you can get it at Wendys. They make fucking salads taste good, them bad mofos. Man. This really isn't helping the hunger. I'm going to bed before this gets out of control.
Fri, Nov 16/01 10:52pm
Well hip hip hooray, the weekend's here. The only good thing about the weekend is sleeping in.
I had an up and down week. Monday was a horror. Well, Monday night anyhow. I must have had some food poisoning that night, it was hell there for a while. Some moments where I didn't think I was going to survive and that I'd die in dirty clothes in a bathroom in a basement in North Bay. At first it was just tremendous intestinal pain... then we moved onto the stomach... I was moaning and close to crying for that much. Then dizziness, cold sweat, and tingling sensations in the arms. That's when I started thinking I was having a stroke. Stumbled upstairs, found Jason, wandered back down, puked my guts out, felt better. Blasted some turds, felt better still. But fuck, I was still weak for the night. And I couldn't eat the chips I'd bought specially for Raw either! Yet, I was alive, so I didn't really feel the urge to complain.
Blah blah, what else...? I've discovered the show Undergrads. It's a pretty decent piece of animation. Idealistic too.
I feel like I want to write about stuff. I don't know, I guess things are going on. Internal things I mean, of course. I'm constantly questioning things, and sort of can't decide whether I'm content or miserable. I think my thirst for newness is unquenchable. I'm making friends and influencing people and all that shit, but... to what end? Is it taking me anywhere? Anywhere towards what I want to ultimately end up with? That's a tough one. And I'm not sure if it's accurate, but it looks like the job I really want back home might be opening up sooner than I thought. I'm coming to a bunch of different conclusions on different things and ideas, and as much as it is satisfying to figure things out, it's also kind of scary. I guess it all sounds very vague and uninteresting to someone on the outside, but to explain it would take too much time that I don't want to spend on a book of revelations right now. Corrections is good. Better than I thought even, and I could really dig a couple of years in the system; a few working in prisons, a few doing probation, a few on parole... but even a decade seems wayyy too long. Is that unusual? There really isn't much I can see myself doing until I'm 32, but theatre *does* make that short list. I don't know. Maybe working corrections will give me the time to pick up a work ethic and really get down to business with my writing. And fuck, you know the other thing I've actually been trying to put some thought to as to a job? Comedy. One of the guys in my course used to do stand up comedy in Vancouver, and I'm finding that intriguing.
I don't know, baby. All this and more, really. Much more.
Sun, Nov 4/01 1:07am
I slept for 16 hours, from 7 last night to 11 this morning. Not bad, eh? That's where these headaches are taking me, anyhow.
So not like I really expected it to be, but Campbells prime rib and vegetable soup? That shit's hardly 'prime rib', alright?
The weekend bothers me. I eat too much and sit around too much. At least on weekdays it feels like I've done something. I had to write an email today just so I didn't believe myself to be utterly useless. See, yesterday was pretty killer, as days around here go. Got up late and missed my psych class, showed up at school to a welcome of 'Where the fuck WERE YOU?!' from Andre and Mair (pronounced Meyer). They were mad because I wasn't there to help create a buffer zone between them and the dumb kids. See, recently I've been accepted, and actually kind of drafted me. Andre's older, and he's a smart cookie too, and Mair is just a weird girl. Probably bright too. They've decided that I have to start sitting beside them at the back of the class, as to create some kind of intelligence bubble and chase the dummies away. So yeah, their welcome was actually pretty flattering.
But anyhow, I spent a good percentage of my day with Alana, just hanging out for most of it. Sat around with me in the cafeteria while I finished my law homework, which was nice. I've come to the conclusion that she only normally talks to myself and the sister of her boyfriend. Also kind of flattering. But she's a little weird, so I can see a basis for that. I skipped off my last class to get something to eat at the mall, and she joined me for that. She told me before about this recurring dream she has where she's running from/through school and sometimes the mall too. Well, it seems a short while ago I found myself in that dream, and in it I hid her in the back of my bookstore. I thought that was pretty flattering too. Fairly symbolic I thought, too. She thought the same thing, and I was glad she said it, because I didn't know if it was my place to say so. Apparently even her boyfriend only very very rarely shows up in her dreams, and not in such a capacity. I caught a glimpse of him in a picture and ehn... wasn't overly impressed. Sounds kind of lazy and unappreciative... which you can get away with if you look like *me*, but he doesn't, heh heh. But yeah. So I waited with her until the bus before her bus came to the mall (she had to teach a piano lesson, how cool is that?), and buggered off home. And at the bus station, I'm waiting for my bus, and up out of nowhere comes Bus Girl. Right before my damn bus fucking shows up. So my eye tag game with her gets cut way too short, and I get on the bus feeling like a putz for not just waiting for the next one and striking up a conversation. Oh well. It's not like I'll never see her again, I figured. Fuck, if I'd even left the house today I probably would have came across her.
And I wait, I wait for Monday. I think if Alana's there I'll start bitching about girls to her, see how that goes over. Yeah.
"All the fists in the world can't save you now." I like that.
Thurs, Nov 1/01 9:13pm
I've reached a strange turning point. I don't really want to go home now. Things would just be more complicated if I did. See, if I went home, I'd want to go to the Kingdom, quite obviously, and among other things. If I went to the Kingdom, I'd have to meet up with my Kingdom girls, and how things are lately... I just don't fucking want to. Quite honestly, I'm getting really fucking tired of people who can't A) sustain an intelligent conversation or B) manage their own stupid life. I don't understand why every fucking girl I meet has to be so damned disturbed... to a point where they're basically retarded. Like, lets go over what I've been chasing.
1. Manic depressive girl who can somehow say 'all her friends' this and that, and 'I have no friends' in the same sentence. She also switches moods more than Redheaded Chris yells and faster than I fall asleep when I get home from class. Super.
2. Chubby blonde girl who can't talk about anything other than sex for more than 5 minutes in a night. Takes everything too seriously and quite literally. Marvellous.
3. Victimized girl who is alternately very nice and very bitchy... but that's the good part. Bad part is that I've somehow become totally invisible to her in this past week. Fantastic.
4. The punk girl on the bus who I play visual tag with and feel nice about, but whom I see about once every two weeks. Yippie-skippy.
5. She's Australian, has dyed black hair, and has a studded belt. Show's all kinds of interest in me. Is round and hot... and I bet her boyfriend thinks so too. Hip hip hooray.
Girls have a strange disease of the brain, it's true... oh it's DAMN true. So yeah, not going home sounds kind of good. It'll save me money I can spend on beer (or if I'm lucky, a coat!), and will keep me out of trouble for a couple of months til I go home for the holidays. I've bought my last bus pass of the year... getting a December one would be convenient, but a waste of cash.
So yeah, I've spent the last couple of days depressed. Since at least Halloween, anyhow. I'm being accepted more and more at school... people are vying for me in some off circumstances even, but when the classes are over... I'm stuck here again. There's a show tomorrow night, and hopefully I'll talk to Alana tomorrow and she'll also want to go and also have no one else to go with. A night out would be good. I was upstairs while the monkeys were there, and got a little sympathy from one of the guy's girlfriends, which was nice. I also had some cheesesticks, mmm.
You know what would be good? Cutting a rug out. I mean getting the fuck *down*. Fucking grooving out to *everything*. I think my ideal dance floor mix right now would include... hmn... some Manson (a la Fight Song), Black Flag (Spray Paint), Beastie Boys (Body Movin' or Hey Ladies), that Gorillaz song... yes, really, Dance Hall Crashers - DHC, Garbage - #1 Crush, etc etc.