On: There is still a wall in front of me.

Documenting


Between a poem and a poem
There is an age
Of memories emptiness
Who will document nonexistence?
It is the age of the poet


Still


Whenever my head shattered a wall
I said: ‘I still have a head’
Whenever a wall shattered my head
I said: ‘There is still a wall in front of me’

Nabila Zubair – A Sea Haunts Me

On: relating to pigeons

The first page of my diary-in-progress.

On: The clash.

I guess I can see why people mistake me for a hipster...

And this is me waking up.

On: Remembering dreams.

This is me going to sleep. Sleeeeeeeeeeep.

On: Distaining Men, and Oxygen, for Arrogance of them ---

I never spoke—unless addressed—
I'm here for when ever the club sippin buzz really drunk and I see a fat booty
And then, 'twas brief and low—
Got to have it I'm a grab it cause its a habbit automatic like uzi, with the sick flow
I could not bear to live—aloud—
Make a chick go crazy and plastered tatta its redfoo the dude a true party rockaaaah
The Racket shamed me so—



SORRY FOR PARTY ROCKING

On: with wild abandon.

Somewhere in the vicinity of Welland a very big very dilapidated property sits. I would Judge the yard area to be at least two acres where stand, but just barely, two sheds, one barn and this house. The ceiling is holes, the floor a mishmash of rot and strange board games, and the floor also is holes.

Fancy imagery is lacking in this post but sweet sounds will follow; M-O-O-N radio (my AWESOME gothic rock, post punk, new wave, dark wave, etc college radio show) begins again TONIGHT! Wheeeeeee! At 8! You can listen to it online at www.fusionradio.ca

Now imagine a moon here. Or here.
Or perhaps the bottom of an unruly youth.

NOTE TO SELF








FUCK YEAH

On: new casa and whatnot.

1) New bedroom, pre-postering/decoratizing. I have managed to cram most of my possesions into milkcrates, a briliant idea I stole from Neil. This will, in the future, nearly eliminate the need to pack, and when you move three times a year (on average) like me this is a great and smelly weight lifted.

2) Ian!

3-4) My neighbours crazy-perdy catty.

On: Reggie's Ren.

From Kitchen to bathroom, basement to roof, Reggie's renovations knows quality.

On: Nothing to do with anything.

I just found out that Zack Weiner, Maker of SMBC, is incredibly hot. Like a sexy nerdy viking. Mmmmmm.

Evidence:



End of off topicness.

On: caught in act.

On: my home, but only for a little while more. Moving, moving, moving, dizzy.

On: eyes like a frying pan, skin on fire.

ORP 2011

On: a night out. It was a night out...

On: 3 HUND

Oh life! You wacky substanceless wonder! You've tossed me again, like a salad, like other things that and tossed. Frisbees? I dunno man, I don't do a lot of sports.

So some guy (mommy, whats a landlord?) evicted the residents of the Wizards Tower, so no more Kensington life for me. I had planned to know every cranny, every nook, then get to know the crannys again, but t'aint gon be so. Where have I gone too you ask? Tis a glorious lang. A land where no man wears a shirt. A land where all tattoos are prison tattoos. High unemployment, slow pace, canals, cracked streets...no it's not Detroit. It's called Welland and it's AWESOME here. Buildings sit empty on Main Street, some look abandoned, some disused, and some just look derelict though they are still running. Empty factories, empty houses; it’s a playground!

It's kindof like home, actually, but the people are more "white trash-blue collar" where I'm used to "redneck and bible thumping". Either way it actually feels comfortable to be an alien again!

Ahhhh...rent free, a near zero chance of finding work (though I'm sure I'll start trying soon) and a town to explore. Thanks life! Wishes do come true!

Also: heading out to OM next week.
Also: been paintin.
Also: Wheeeee!

To your right you will see clouds over Kensington, ye olde tower (the blue/white window was mine) and...uhhh...me.

On: Towering pitfalls.

Good morning world, hows about a caffeine+smiles breakfast? Bacon flapjacks? Cat fuzz?

I’m waiting on another move now, waiting and reading quest stories and comics and reading cigarette papers and reading buds and reading reds. The death pit will be refilled without me in it and I’ll be living in a Wizards Tower instead. I’m camping in my own room now, almost everything is in a box. On Thursday I will retire to the country to paint Eastern Eggs and lie on the road at night. It sounds like I’m talking nonsense but actually this is all factual, except for reading reds. I’m not sure how that would be done…actually I am.

I can’t help but still measure years by school periods, with summer constituting some kind of glorious purgatory that isn’t really a part of the year. Then September comes and the New Year melancholy rolls in with the cool air. Three days until I enter purgatory and the most beautiful place on earth.

On: dropping.

On: blue gloved hands.

On: Old old old.

On: beltower lean.

Reading week has been/is being, as I type this, deliciously wonderful. I spent several days with my beautiful boyfriend; his name is Ian. I went to my parents’ house on Tuesday and spent more days having a lovely time with them. Dad made a horn from the spinner of a washing machine that he found in the garbage; it’s super rad, it’s named the Outside Agitator and I get to paint it someday. We have plans for a second horn that will be a collaborative project employing both of our talents. Mom and I spent lots of time hanging out, going to small towns and eating tasty things. My plan was to go visit Nox and B-Rad and others after that, but an invitation was issued that I could not refuse, and thusly it was accepted. I am currently sitting in a hotel room in Ottawa formulating plans and dreaming of future cuddles. Life is tasty!

On: no biggie, just my favorite self portrait of time thus far.