Vouloir?

It was all prefab art and cheap perfume. And too fat for my taste but two cats so okay. Wasted, drunk, a spindle. Goodnight Desdemona, I'm going home alone again.

Soul Survivor

A decade. I made it. Time for resolve. Resolutions and dissolutions.

You need not hope for answers yet.

Dues are paid. Stars align to make changes. Seize. Throttle. Destroy.

Without guidance I would be worried that I was a beast made of black poison. Or a self-righteous lunatic. But I'm not these things. My brain is leaky and full of devils. My heart is leaky and full of gold. My eyes can see into the Twilight Zone and all the could'ves that mercifully aren't.

A decade of burned bridges. A decade of mistakes. A decade, and no regrets.

Enjoy the longest night. I killed the Monster.

Blow vember

Home sweet home.

It took a while, but I'm finally settled in. It's funny, the day I moved in they had just cleaned the carpets, so I couldn't actually put any of my furniture in the living room. Everything I owned had to be Tetris-stacked in the kitchen and storage room. Made for a fun second day (naturally, when I finished moving all of the stuff in, I went out and got drunk). The thing is, I felt immediately more at home here than at the old place, or really, any place I'd ever lived, save for my grandparents' house, which is always home.

So I took my time and got the furniture exactly how I like it. Set up my record player and it of course wouldn't work. Somehow the belt had come off during the move. After a week of trying to figure it out I resolved myself to the idea of buying a sexy brand new Rega P1.

Ain't she sweet?

I was explaining my problem to my dad yesterday and through some kind of divine intervention he actually suggested something that was totally genius. I was showing him the problem (there is too much belt, where do I put it? What does it wrap around?") when he asked if any of the things inside had belt marks on them. No, I realized, and when I got home flipped over the removed sub platter and saw the missing belt marks. Turns out it works the same as any other record player and that I'm a total idiot. So the turntable is fixed, and today I celebrated with Pig Lib on sweet sweet vinyl. Delicious.

Daisy returned home this week too. Three weeks without her here did a lot for my confidence levels. Now I'm back to this weird feeling of dread and anxiety.

She's actually in the other room right now marking English papers. Helped with the hanging of pictures and rearranging of things. The place looks good, and to be honest I was looking forward to her coming home because I knew she would straighten things out. These little domestic pictures we paint don't seem to bother me at all, or at least, they wouldn't if they were legit.
A quick run to Ikea, to Home Depot, to the grocery store and back home to make supper.
I was at one point so close to that being a reality with the absolute wrong person. I avoid that kind of domesticity like the fucking plague, and so does she. I don't know why we both slide into that mold so easily.

It would be easy to point to the stars, but I can't.

After months of repeating myself, what else can I say to "what is wrong?" Nothing is usually the best answer. It says everything. "That is not true." But what else can I say?

Death of Loserco

4 am now.

So hungry. Can't sleep. Like a crackhead, I'm cleaning what's left to be cleaned.

Tonight is the last night is the place I've called home for 3 years. I'll maybe sleep now, as tomorrow will be busy all day. My fingers smell like bleach.

Jon5 will be over tomorrow to help with the move. Then it's all LOSERCO 2.0, bitches.

FACT:
I've kept every penny I've ever found from 1984. It's like, I think they're lucky. I have two rolls of them, plus a few more just laying around. I keep one in the tiny pocket of every pair of jeans I own.

Weirddd.

Goodbye home. See you tomorrow.

Ramblin' ambitions

Long day.

Every Tuesday I host a radio show on CJSR called Makin' Whoopee. I didn't name it. 3 and a half years I've done this show now. Today we had a pre-Halloween special. My usual co-host is in Vancouver seeing U2 so I brought my friend Bo on instead. I like it. Playing music for people is the awesomest thing in the world sometimes, especially on days like today when I am inspired by EVIL to make a themed set.

Over the last year we've been getting a more dedicated fan base, and we started podcasting our shows via our website and people actually download it. We have dozens of people that actually choose to listen to our show now. I find that so hard to believe. For our fundraising episode (the joys of community radio) we pulled in an unexpected 3 grand, leading me to think that hey, maybe we've got something here. MAYBE, Colin and I are good at radio.

So this new found confidence combines with my love of playing music and I start thinking "Hey, maybe I flunked out of school for a reason. Maybe it's because I don't like it." I tried doing correspondence courses this year. Well, I mean, I bought one course and didn't do one page, nay, one word of work on it, and then just returned it. FAIL AT TRYING.
So maybe I should think about not going back to finish the degree I failed to get. Why should I do 8 courses at some internet school so that I can go back to real school to get a degree that I will not use to be a teacher? We're looking at at least 3 more years of school there.
Or maybe, maybe, maybe, I should think about broadcasting school. Radio. Full time. Imagine working at the CBC. Actually doing work in a field that I find exciting. There is a lot of thinking to do before I make this a real goal, but I need a real goal. And I mean, why not try this? I'm 25 years old and I've been working in a liquor store for the last 6 years. I don't want to still be there when I'm 30.

I can do this. Do I want to?

Thugs in Perpetuity

A date?

Not a good one. Pretty early on I got that feeling...we have nothing in common, really, and I don't know how long I can fake it...

I don't usually feel like I'm not the least bit interesting. That was neat.

So I'm home not even two hours later. As a bonus, I stopped at a record store and picked up both My Bloody Valentine LPs, Isn't Anything and Loveless. I'd been meaning to buy them for ages, and it just felt like a good move tonight. Never mind the fact that I shouldn't be spending on non-essentials.

To prepare for date town I spent all day packing. I took down all the posters in my room and it looks terrifying. Oh well. 6 more sleeps here.

What the fuck am I doing?

Brain Damage

Never mind, I totally got drunk.

I've spent the entire day floating through hangover land. One thing about the Garneau: the beer will kill you. That won't stop me from drinking it, but I know there's something not quite right about it. I like it, though, it reminds me of the bars back home. And the jukebox is basically perfect.

So today my landlord started showing off my suite. I didn't want to be around for it so I took off. I went to London Drugs to buy a mop, but I forgot to put my cheque in the bank and thus was out of funds. No mop. To kill time I stopped by the BIG MALL on the way to work. I do that sometimes. I don't know why. I really hate that mall, but there is a quality to it that I find very relaxing. I've been going there since I was a kid, and I guess that makes it comfortable? I don't know. So I mallratted for a few hours, looking at things and not buying them. I'm trying to keep my mind occupied on the move. So I went to some home stores, pretended to be someone with cash in their pockets.

I ate in the food court and watched dads have awkward mall days with their teenage daughters. I don't want kids, really. But I know that if I do, and they're girls, I'd be wrapped around their finger for life. What is that like, I wonder? And then the awkward mall days? The attempts at bonding? Sometimes I have dreams...that kid is in them. She's mine. It weirds me out.

"Hey kiddo."