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the flowers

the flowers i gave you wilted on your porch while you drank your 7am coffee

while you typed emails to your brother about this article you read on gawker

while you sucked the last bit of chicken soup you made last night out of a green ceramic bowl

while you held onto the back of the chair you sat on, and twisted your torso so that every notch in your spine made a loud popping noise

while you rubbed the dry skin on the bottom of your elbow and wondered if you should buy that moisturizer somebody told you about

the flowers i gave you wilted on your porch while you watched the bus you were supposed to catch drive past you indifferently

while the bus driver thought about his ex wife in the yukon taking stool samples from endangered bison

while the bison licked the frozen sap off a leafless tree

while your mother ran herself a hot bath and rubbed lavender oil on her legs

while your father watched women’s tennis in his basement on his flat screen tv

the flowers i gave to you wilted while i fucked my art history professor in the back of his navy blue honda civic

while my jeans stopped fitting like they used to because i’ve been eating a lot of baked goods and drinking a lot of iced coffee

while you imagine me sitting in your living room, wearing your t shirt, reading the book by charles de lint that you got me for christmas

while your girlfriend comes over and cooks steak and potatoes and watches the real housewives of atlanta

while you open and close gchat conversations from 2 years ago and adjust your testicles

while the spider living in the corner of your top left bedpost gives birth to 100,000,000 spider babies

while the spider babies crawl into your mouth as you sleep

while they crawl through your stomach and intestines and out of your asshole and onto the floor and through the kitchen and out the door

while they crawl up the wall into the planter where

the flowers i gave you wilted on your porch



forever is the last stop on the #18 bus

after our performance art class lydia and i went to a bar in chinatown that is known for serving over 100 types of beer. seated at the corner booth beside us were a man and woman having an extremely audible, dramatic conversation about the contents of the guy’s phone and their seemingly, failing relationship. the girl became increasingly aggravated as her boyfriend simultaneously texted people and denied acts of infidelity and untruthfulness. she took the phone out of his hands and began scrolling through it. she began alternating between ‘oh, you lied about this’ and ‘oh, you lied about that too’, while simultaneously jolting left and right to avoid his half-hearted, occasional, attempts to grab the phone

an hour later while on the subway to lydia’s drug dealer t’s house the train stopped, and, for ~3.5 minutes the doors opened and closed on a poster of zac efron’s enlarged face for his film ‘that awkward moment when’ that someone vandalized so that zac efron had a poorly drawn moustache

at the door to t's basement apartment off queen street we were greeted with an impossibly huge black doberman which t, he later explained, purchased  to ‘be friends with cops’ and ‘attract people.’ we made small talk and smoked 2 joints that t rolled. i pet the doberman absently, while searching for music to play on t’s lenovo thinkpad. lydia mentioned that i was a ‘killer dj’, and i felt momentarily like committing suicide.‘woah, crazy.’ said t

‘so do you like, play shows or whatever?’ 

‘i haven’t in a while. it seems harder to find gigs in toronto than anywhere else’

‘what kind of music do you play? edm mostly?’

‘no not really. a lot of ambient stuff i guess. maybe i’m aiming at the wrong market… i should probably be playing art parties or gallery openings or something’

i turned on freak, go home by darkside and took a hit from the joint, feeling extremely anxious about having to continue with the current social interaction for any longer. i wanted to speed up the transition into the drug transaction portion of the evening, but it seemed like both lydia and t were ‘having a great time’ discussing european politics, and couldn’t find a polite way to change the subject to my purchase. i remembered the poster of zac efron in ‘that awkward moment when’, and sunk into the worn leather couch 

45 minutes later t handed me a plastic ziploc bag containing 5 xanax bars and 2 morphine tablets. i handed him some money and put the plastic bag in a coin purse with a picture of massachusetts on it. ‘hey, you ever need anything, just call’ said t, and handed me a ripped piece of looseleaf with his number written on it in sharpie. ‘thanks, will do!’ i said, trying and failing to sound earnestly appreciative. the doberman ran around the apartment at ~75mph while we put on our shoes, and t repeatedly laugh-yelled at the dog to 'calm the fuck down,'. while leaving t quietly, hopefully chirped  ‘enjoy the drugs!’ to which i replied ‘thanks, you too’ 

later that night at a bar in kensington called thirsty and miserable clara and i sat outside smoking, drinking gin and tonic’s and discussing the benefits of picking your nose in public

‘i feel like, if you don’t then you are also the kind of person that refuses to eat anything of any kind in their bedroom’

‘yeah it seems like people who don’t pick their nose in public would enjoy trips to the DMV, because they would see it as 'another item checked off their to-do list'. like, they would look forward to checking it off on their to do list in their day planner’

‘or they would check it off on the Wunderlist app on their iphone, that they use 30-40 times a day.’

‘i like to pick my nose and look small children in the eyes while i purchase office supplies at wal mart.’

‘i like to pick my nose during matinee’s at TIFF's Bell Lightbox theatre’

on the way home, while listening to ‘i would rather go blind’ by etta james, the bus driver boisterously discussed his distaste for the frequently changing schedules he is faced with. he seemed to be talking to no one and everyone on the bus simultaneously, but no one 'piped in’ at any point. he went on to discuss the length of his arms in relation to the steering wheel, and other objects in the area near the drivers seat. when i got off the bus he said ‘goodnight sunshine’ and honked while driving away. i felt irrationally angry at him, but couldn’t decide whether it was for honking, saying ‘goodnight sunshine’ or both. when i got home i took the elevator to the basement to get a luna bar from the vending machine, but all that was left was a stale-seeming honey bun and a box of good n’ plenty. i went upstairs to my apartment, ate a bowl of dorset granola while responding to emails, and fell asleep in my clothes



bpa free water bottle

my bpa free water bottle holds approximately 32oz (1000ml) liquid. it is nalgene brand, "made in the USA", eggplant purple, with a now (due to aging and discoloration) off-white, large, grooved cap, attached by an also off-white plastic strap of sorts. inside of it, at all times, is a mcdonalds plastic straw, white, with one red stripe and one yellow. there seems to be, at any given moment, at least .01oz liquid (primarily water) inside the bottle, regardless of when it was most recently used

i try to the consume the entire contents of my bpa free water bottle at least twice a day, but often fail. i sometimes fail due to laziness, not wanting to exert the effort required to retrieve the bottle from my backpack. sometimes i fail because after retrieving the bottle i realize that i did not fill it previously, and therefore cannot consume the liquid i had expected to find inside of it. other times i fail because i forgot the bottle at home, or cannot in the location that i am in, find a place to fill it

i use a straw in my water bottle because i often wear lipstick, and dislike when, due to straight from the bottle liquid consumption, lipstick gets on my chin, the rim of the bottle, or otherwise. the straw allows me to consume the liquid inside the bpa free water bottle with little to no lipstick fallout. i also use a straw because i find that the rim of the bottle is extremely, almost comically large, and i often spill on myself while trying to consume the liquid. i have been using the same straw for 5 months, 1 week, 2 days

the bpa free water bottle is, by nature, unfashionable. i care about seeming 'put together' most of the time, so i try to hide or 'place' it in inconspicuous locations such as my backpack, a plastic bag, or, if need be, attached to my purse. if i am placing the bottle in a portable container of some kind, i will usually chug the liquid to reduce it's weight and, as a result, the strain on my back etc

things that have (accidentally or otherwise) been inside my bpa free water bottle:
-green tea
-sd card
-iced coffee
-mcdonalds french fry
-bobby pin
-green juice



new york city, as a premise, seems insane. the moment i arrived here i felt extremely 'at home' which, while expected, felt bizarre because i have never been here before. everyone here seems to be "turned up to 11" at all times. there is also a very distinct disposition carried by everyone here in manhattan especially. people feel the need to make eye contact and acknowledge each other's presence, which is something i am in no way accustomed to. since my arrival on monday i haven't done much other than walk around and look at things, eat food in various locations and search for free wifi. i prepared for my trip here by compiling a list of extremely unrealistic experiences and interactions  i was certain i would have, starting with 'having meetings'

i have been telling everyone that i have 'meetings' to go to while i am in new york, which really is not the case and doesn't even make sense. i contacted a few people on facebook that i admire, most of which i believe are or could be, in the near future, attracted to me. i feel depressed re not having sex for the past 1.5 months, which, now that i am looking at it typed on my computer screen does not seem like a long time at all. my feelings of loneliness seem more magnified because i have spent almost all of my time in new york alone

i have been texting richard, a fairly successful web artist and 'entrepreneur' that i have known since 2010. we met on a website he created that was dedicated to remixing images, text, pop culture iconography etc. the site was used mostly by emerging web artists, and in many ways was a catalyst for all of the new media art that is being produced currently. i feel like he recently tweeted something along the lines of 'someone should really write a book about this website....' and then something else but i forget

there were a few more people i was hoping to meet with: a writer, a musician, a psuedo-socialite painter; but i am starting to feel like i might not meet any of them. i want all of these people to like me but i don't know why. keep thinking 'networking, networking'... not sure what that means really

i posted a song to the internet that i made with my friend gregory for my birthday; it has been well received but something about it bothers me. something about my birthday bothered me too. my mother 'surprised' me by taking my sister and i to see a play starring bryan cranston which she knew i had no interest in at all. she made us wait outside for half an hour to get his autograph, and eventually i just walked away and took a train to chelsea to meet people

the people i met with were not interesting or 'fun'

i want to have 'fun'

i don't know how

i have been alive for 20 years... twenty years.... that seems totally fucked



it's 11:30 pm and i'm stoned and listening to comeback kid

i lost my wallet today, and i am feeling extremely anxious as a result

my compositing and digital animation prof always finds a way to lure all of his students into his hologram studio outside of class time. i feel stressed, for some reason, about going there again. 

i just noticed that the penthouse suite on top of the apartment building across from mine is considerably larger and more well lit than any other apartment

seems bleak



2 years, 9 months


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