"I hardly have time to answer letters as it is, forget trying to do it from the chair in the Oval Office." (A. Ginsberg, on whether he would ever run for president)

Drinkin: coffee
Listening to: John Lennon

Odd snatches of memory as I fall asleep these days: yesterday it was a sense of being pushed into a cage submerged in water, clutching some kind of important Manuscript which may or may not have been the Gospel of Thomas. Lots of water in that one, and absolutely no fear. Other, less complex ones: sitting at tables with people, debating the merits of something or other; walking down hallways. The colourful and illusionary thread that separates me from this and that seems to be fading, or else these little tears get scratched outwards and become holes.

I have to perform some financial Magick today, which involves opening envelopes, spin doctoring at the bank, some long distance phone calls, and crossing my fingers. Important to remember: money is abstract.

So are words though -- technically they're symbols, nothing real about them -- and yet if I didn't have them I would expire. At summer camp once when I was 9 I had some kind of throat illness and was told to not speak for a period of four hours and it was the worst possible thing, I felt the threads of my sanity splintering and reforming around the large mounted Bell that summoned us to the Mess Hall for lunch: I developed an unhealthy fascination for this Bell, stared at it for almost an hour, speechless, cut off from language, until in a fit of desperation I pulled the thick cord and rang rang rang it -- the loud booming noise of it pealed all over the grounds and there was a mass confusion because it wasn't lunchtime, it wasn't anythingtime, no one knew what to do or where to go only that the bell had rung and that had to mean something, only it didn't mean anything at all, and I couldn't speak.

"You're just a bloody mother fucking asshole." (Martha Wainwright)

My main New Years resolution is to become less of an alcoholic, but there's something to be said for a Christmas Day drinkfest: 4 cups of coffee with irish creme liquer, 2 beers, a Crown and ginger, 2 egg nog and irish creme liquers, and about half a .26 of gin mixed with peach juice. Memorable!

"Love: Hearts chage -- i know they do But a part of this heart 1331." (t-shirt Steph gave me)

Listening to: Le Tigre's Feminist Sweepstakes album (Christmas present from Matt!)
Drinkin: Vancouver Islander Lager

So far Christmas has been supercool --- chillaxed morning with stockings and present-opening, then Ben and Michael stopped by for egg nog, coffee with Irish Creme liquer, and Pringles chips imprinted with Trivial Pursuit questions. Breakfast was toasted multigrain bagels with cream cheese, smoked salmon, and capers. We watched My Best Friend's Wedding for the purposes of making fun of it, but it was too terrible to do anything but stare at it in shock. Matt and I were on the front stoop with beer and cigarettes by 1:30. Spoke with my parents via the magic of telephone (my whole life I will never be able to comprehend how telephones are anything but Magick). Dinner soon -- sushi with fillings that shall include crab, smoked salmon, scallops, avocado, cucumber, and mango!

Another Christmas Thought

A dream-plan: go to Japan for two years, make enough money to pay off student loan with funds left over to finance a Master's Degree. Come back to Canada, obtain Master's Degree, possibly from the University of New Brunswick. Secure a job teaching three creative writing workshops per semester, plus a pro bono workshop at a penitentary. Earn a living this way. Write every day, earn extra living this way. Host or attend dinner parties ever Saturday, go for brunch with beautiful and stimulating people every Sunday. Attend scandalous film premieres. Cohabit with at least two large dogs. Live alongside Matt, observing his musical genius and earth-shattering live shows. ........ Seems a bit conventional, but a neat dream-plan at the moment.

A Christmas Thought

Listening to: the CBC

I want to photograph myself endlessly.

"I liked her so much better when she was a crack addict and alcoholic. She gets into one car accident and suddenly she's Little Miss Perfect." (Ghost World)

Drinkin: a glass of gin and raspberry juice
Listening to: Le Tigre

I'm listening to Le Tigre's This Island and feel like a huge nerd for sitting here typing instead of freaking out on a dance floor, cigarette in one hand and string of suitors in the other, kicking my feet and shaking my thang and raising my fist in the air again and again.

Off to a Christmas party at Ben's in a bit -- I hear there will be mulled wine.

"A pretty boy in his underwear / If there's a better reason to jump for joy who cares?" (the Magnetic Fields)

Needless to say I had a weirdly fucked-up-edness day, complete with tears over fallen Christmas trees and losing lottery tickets, and clean dry laundry left in the machine for hours. But things got better when Ben came over and he, Matt and I did the writing thing. Did a few one-sentence stories and scribbled a bit about a dysfunctional family where the dad (emotional weather forecaster) and sullen teenage son (Priestly) swear at each other and it ends with the father crying into his martini and deciding that "sometimes parenting is no fun." Ben gave me a neato Japanese colouring book plus a book of interviews with writers (I'm reading the Joyce Carol Oates as we speak) and ETHAN HAWKE'S novel, which I've wanted to read FOREVER! I treasure it already.

Oh -- happy Solstice! Now the days will get longer and I'll be able to walk around by myself after four-fucking-thirty without having to be "wary."

Also -- Matt and I are planning a kind of open-house thing for Christmas Day so if you want to get away from your relatives for an hour or so and have a cocktail or whatever, give us a shout.

Four One-Sentence Stories from the Writing Thing Tonight

(copyright Joy Waller 2005)

Edgar Leaves Her for Fame and Success
All I wanted was a cup of tea, dammit: never thought with that first sip the whole sordid industry would claim my fucking husband.

FREE!
What the cat wanted, the cat got: speeding down the Autobahn with a trunkful of narcotics and Abba on the radio wasn't plan A, but B was just fine.

Monday
She's lost her car keys again, along with some top secret government documents and a briefcase full of landmines and the illegal aliens in her customized sloop: typical.

Beryl's Husband Re-Defines 'Best Friend'
If you don't make that mutt sleep somewhere else I'm leaving for a pack of cigarettes and never coming back -- you know I prefer diamonds.

the latest tragedy

Well, now I've knocked the Christmas tree over and I'm not even supposed to be doing stuff with it I'm supposed to be cleaning instead. I need a vacation. I'll demand one in Springtime.

proof!

To any who still have not seen Todd Solondz's Happiness, one of my favourite films, here is a quote from the break-up scene right at the beginning (to convince you):

JOY: Oh, Andy, I just love it. It's... this really means something to me. I'll always treasure it as... a token.

ANDY: No you won't. 'Cause this is for the girl who loves me. The girl who cares about me, for who I am. Not what I look like. I just wanted you to know what you'd be missing. You think I don't appreciate art. You think I don't understand fashion. You think I'm not hip. You think I'm pathetic. A nerd. A lard-ass fatso. You think I'm shit. Well, you're wrong. 'Cause I'm champagne. And you're shit! And till the day you die... you... not me... will always be shit.

"I've got it so bad / And that ain't good." (N. Simone)

Why did I just go to the Mall on an empty stomach with three cups of coffee in me?

WHY DID I DO THAT TO MYSELF?

WHY DID I DO THAT TO MYSELF?

WHY DID I DO THAT TO MYSELF?

It got to the point where I was screaming observations inside my head. All in caps.

"THAT LOOKS HANDY!"

"I WONDER IF MY PA WOULD LIKE THIS NEWFANGLED CAR-LOCK DE-ICER!"

"THESE LEATHER GLOVES SMELL EXACTLY LIKE DEAD COWS!"

When I got home I looked at my pupils in the mirror and it was like I was on drugs. Then I was out of scotch tape so I had to use masking tape for wrapping presents and cried while doing so. There's packing tape all over my legs for some reason.

all you do is whine and complain!

I am on a hysterical caffiene high right now. It's awful awful awful and I'm stressed about laundry and the Mall, where I have to venture today. (an hysterical caffiene high?) Also my feet are cold and Sambuca's being a bitch and I joined The Society of the Crown last night, but nothing exciting seems to have happened yet.

three paragraphs

I may possibly have just arranged the world's coolest Christmas present for my lover. I'm not sure if it'll work just yet -- the timing is crucial; there are also technical considerations, but if it works -- wow.

Everyone else is getting books. Marvelous books. Ben will freak when he gets his. So will my mother, but that's because I got her The Celestine Prophecy. :)

Off to a staff meeting in fifteen minutes. For some reason I came home after work so I could spend twenty minutes here before I go back. Worth it, I reckon. I'd wanted to have a beer. Now I'm having one.

Should I do laundry? I hate doing laundry. I like folding clothes, though.

Kegger at Morgan's place was fun -- right up until I woke up at 6 a.m. in a king sized bed with no Matt beside me -- he'd been there earlier -- later found him CURLED UP IN BED with one of Morgan's male roommates. Good times all around.

Darren and his girlfriend showed up on Sunday, and Matt prepared a cool spread of Japanese delicacies and rooibos fennel tea. We had a merry time: Darren is one of the world's greatest storytellers, and M and I are thinking of writing a short film based on his How We Convinced our Roommate's Annoying Girlfriend's Anti-Social BBS Buddies to Stop Coming Round the Place yarn (it involves much nakedness and a lack of dignity -- I was thinking Darren and Bulford could play the two lead roles).

It's less than a week till Christmas and I haven't really done my shopping yet. This wouldn't be a bad thing except I need to post some stuff to Vernon. We'll see. Mostly I'm excited cuz I get THREE DAYS OFF IN A ROW!! I can't believe it. I'm not being sarcastic at all; I'm thrilled. This will be Matt's and my first Christmas with just the two of us (plus Sam) and I'm having fun thinking up new traditions. So far: serving Christmas dinner at some sort of soup kitchen, possibly the Mustard Seed if they'll have us, plus those whiskey-shot tree ornaments, which we will consume on Christmas morning. Any other suggestions?

"When I went to school / In Olympia ..." (Hole)

Yesterday I read an entire Marilyn Monroe biography after work. It was awesome on so many levels, but it's alarming how much of a loner I can be given the chance. I love people and hanging out with them but I'm lazy: a result, I think, of growing up homeschooled on a mountain and then moving almost directly into a 24-hour party house that didn't require me to go further than the living room to have a fantastic time. So anyway, tonight I'm heading across the Bridge to see a Jay Dunphy acoustic set. Should be sweet. I'll drink coffee and mingle with the Victoria folk-scene elite and may also write: I read the phrase "hunk-in-distress" in a Cosmopolitan-published horroscope booklet, and am dying to use it.

Five Friday Fives

1. If you owned a restaurant, what kind of food would you serve?
A sort of Pacific Coast/Vegetarian Fusion. Lots of sushi, salmon, and tempeh. Things with mangoes in them, imaginative drinks made of gin and exotic fruit juices, organic salads.

2. What is your favorite restaurant and why?
All-time favourite would have to be ReBar. Decadent vegetarian cusine, excellent walls (lemon and lime colours), lots of clatter and greatness. Runner-up is Japanese Village, and Floyd's Diner for breakfast.

3. What is your favorite fast food place?
Since I stopped eating meat I don't really go to fast food places, not because I'm a good person but because there are no options. If there was a meat-free fast food place with incredibly unhealthy food, I would be there in a flash. I suppose the Lotus Pond could be an equivalent. Back in the day, I was obsessed with Burger King, and would go there whenever in Comox or Colwood (there is no Burger King in Victoria!).

4. If you had to choose only one type of food to eat for a year what would it be?
Sushi.

5. What is your favorie cereal?
I don't really eat cereal because I'm allergic to milk and most soy milks come loaded with sugar (yuk). But multi-grain thingies with raisins and almonds are pretty good.
---------------------------------------------------------
1. What is your morning routine?
Days off: Four cups of coffee, two cigarettes, the Globe and Mail, then toast with eggs, cheese, and tomato.
Days on: Race out of bed, frantically look for clothes, damage-control my hair, find my cigarettes, feed Sam, kiss Matt goodbye, run to Work.

2. What is your nightly routine?
Teeth brushed, hair braided, then curling into Matt and listening to Coast to Coast AM.

3. Do you like to listen to the radio when you sleep or have it quiet?
Coast to Coast AM for sure. I have my clock-radio wake me up with annoying pop stations because I'm concerned if I have it set to the CBC, my radio station of choice, the soothing voices and witty commentary will fail to wake me.

4. What do you like to sleep in?
My big maroon SubText t-shirt. Green hemp pyjama pants and a faded orange tank top. This neat blue-and-white boxer-brief/tank top set.

5. What is the first thing you think about when you wake up in the morning?
What time I have to get to Work *or* How long I can delay Getting Up.
---------------------------------------------------
1. What is your all time favorite book?
I hate questions like this. I have about twenty all-time favourite books. I suppose my top 3 would be Jack Kerouac's Dharma Bums, Margaret Atwood's The Robber Bride, and Anais Nin's Delta of Venus.

2. What is your all time favorite movie?
Ditto. Top three (at the moment) are Woody Allen's Husbands and Wives, Todd Solondz's Happiness, and Jean-Luc Goddard's Breathless.

3. What are you reading right now?
The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13 and 3/4, by Sue Townsed. It's dead good.

4. What is your favorite show on tv?
Of all time? Sex and the City. At the moment? Lost.

5. What is the last movie you saw in the theatre?
The Wedding Crashers. But it's all spoiled now. I don't think I'd like Owen Wilson if I met him. I put him on a pedestal even though I knew I shouldn't have.
----------------------------------------------
1. If the election were tomorrow, who would you vote for?
The NDP.

2. What are the main things that lead you to vote for a certain person?
Charisma and good looks.

3. Where do you get your info on the canidates?
The Globe and Mail, Monday Magazine, and the CBC.

4. Who was president when you were born?
I haven't got a clue. The prime minister was Pierre Trudeau. Hurrah!

5. If you could choose anyone, dead or alive, to be president who would it be?
Oprah or Hillary Clinton. For Prime Minister I would choose myself, obviously, or Marg Delahanty if she was a real person.
------------------------------------------
1. What is your favorite board game?
Scrabble. I recently purchased a purple Crown Royal sack to keep all the tiles in.

2. What is your favorite card game?
Texas Hold'Em Poker.

3. Do you like to play games on the computer or on a gaming system?
Sort of. I love Tetris, and I rock at it. Jeopardy is fun, as is Weboggle.

4. If so, What is your favorite game to play?
um --

5. Do you like to play games with people or to play them alone?
With other people. Matt and I played Strip Scrabble once in November, and that was great!

"Now is the time to strike. The leader is suffering from a terrific handicap: he has no head or body!" (W. Allen)

I have $4.50 in change but none of it is loonies so instead of doing laundry I'm drinking coffee and listening to the Tosca Tango Orchestra.

Staff Christmas party on Monday night was fun -- it was in a private room at Swan's -- but I spilled my first beer all over the table in front of the three founding members of the company. Matt bought me another but I didn't get over it. Other than minor spills, I have only spilled three drinks in my life, including this one. (First one was at a residence party in Jeremy Fiddy's room when I was 18 -- I kicked over Matt's glass of rye and Coke and wanted to die because I had a crush on Matt and thought he would think I was a terrible person; second one was when I was 19 and called in sick for my last day of work at Chapters so that I could film the 8-person jazz jam in the Green St livining room and Lisa made me a double rye and Ginger and I kicked it over and wanted to die because Matt was involved in the jazz jam and I had a crush on him and thought he would think I was a terrible person.)

I want to start seeing a therapist but I'm terrified she would find my troubles dull, would go over her grocery shopping list in her head like the therapist in Happiness.

Insane Good Deal

Such an insane good deal, I can't even give you the specifics cuz I can scarcely believe it .... But okay. How insane is this? Ten books, for a total (with tax) of $1.07.

1) Old Madam Yin: A Memoir of Peking Life, by Ida Pruitt (feeding my insatiable appetite for Chinese biographies)
2) Comfort Me With Apples: Considering the Pleasures of the Table, by Joe Fiorito (food short stories -- mmmmmm)
3) Dogless in Metchosin, by Tom Henry (book of non-fiction by a memorable former prof of mine)
4) Tuesdays with Morrie, by Mitch Albom (I'm not sure what this book is but the cover is stunning and it looks sort of like a masculine-spiritual book, which is the kind of thing I've been meaning to get for my brother Lance for Christmas)
5) The Good Cook Book, by Yves (a classic vegi cookery manual)
6) An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness, by Kay Redfield Jamison ('nuff said)
7) Norma Jean: My Secret Life with Marilyn Monroe, by Ted Jordan (scandalous unauthorized biography of everyone's favourite sex vixen!)
8) Shampoo Planet, by Douglas Coupland (because I've been meaning to give Douglas Coupland another shot)
9) Miss Wyoming, by Douglas Coupland (ditto)
10) Surface Tension, by Joanna Hines (random British 1970s murder mystery thriller by an author I've never heard of; excellent candy looks like)

!!!

"Shake your head / It's empty." (Metric)

I was just trapped in a supermarket turnstile. Unable to move forward or backward. A stranger had to help me, tugging at the straps of my handbag while I stood on tiptoe and then wrenched forward and to the side. At least I bought normal things (milk, coffee beans). Had this been last week, when I bought cat food and potatoes, and people looked at me like I was going to make some sort of casserole out of it, I would have felt worse.

"Could I be a Lipstick Lesbian if I never wear lipstick?" (me)

Work is super-stressing me out. I love what I'm doing but I don't get a weekend: days off are usually Friday and Sunday, or Thursday and Sunday. I hate it. No matter how much I love a job, I need that little two-day break from it. Gah. Management has been alerted to my dissatisfaction but is slow in making amends. Double-gah. Don't know what to do.

Guilt re: bitching out on Ben hang-outage tonight. Sorry, Ben. I got home from work and read a trashy magazine for an hour and then realized the temperature was MINUS-ZERO inside the house. Furnace was broken and I flew into a rage. Made dinner for Matt and I. Matt called landlord and tinkered in basement, shouting German obscenities through the heat vents. Very creepy. Then I took a shower to warm up only the water TURNED TO ICE after only five minutes. I forgot to return your call(s). Triple-gah. Read "The Gorilla Girlz Illustrated Guide to Female Stereotypes" and parts of a book about reading different tarot spreads. (Suspicions: one of the spreads directly relates to winning lottery numbers. Like I said, suspicions.) Helped Matt write some ad copy for his Work. Found out Bessie Smith was a Lesbian. Tried to decide what kind of Lesbian I would be. Could I be a Lipstick Lesbian if I never wear lipstick? I had sex with girls in high school. I wonder why I'm not more bi. Conversations at Work this morning with people discussing the "confusion" regarding bisexuality, ie, bisexuals are "confused." This rankled me somewhat. I said, "I think we're all confused." Was I in the present moment, or was I projecting five hours into the future, when I bought two strands of outdoor lights for our Christmas tree? Life is a mess.

Okay: Best Sex

Yes. Let's try to turn this blog into a forum. Best sex story in Comments. You can skim over details, but give a sort of modest idea. I'll start. (But others have to contribute otherwise I'll feel like a sex fiend. Which isn't technically a bad thing ... But really. Requisites: stories from Ben, Steph, and Caroline.)

"I bet there's rich folk eatin' in a fancy dining car / They're prob'ly drinkin' coffee and smokin' big cigars." (J. Cash)

Matt brought home a Christmas tree! Sambuca snarled, skittered across the floor, and hid under the kitchen table. And she's been terribly hostile towards the whole idea since then. The whole house smells like pine needles!

Breakfast at Floyd's, then Matt and I went to the photo kiosk in the mall to take four pictures of ourselves holding four paper plates that said "Merry" "Christmas" "to" "YOU!" for future use in Christmas card. There was a beautiful punk-pixie girl ahead of us, and she had pieces of loose-leaf paper that said "Merry" "Christmas" "Mom" "and Bob."

Then we went to the ocean and collected pebbles and I had cigarettes. There were a lot of dogs around. Moka House, grocery store. Some rye. That poem. A lot of black and white photographs. I love Sundays.

A Poem I Wrote Today on the Moka House Patio

The Skin
is a light
peach and the eyes
are blue as candies
but it's the inside
he likes the folds
of her lungs limp
feathers in heartbeat
soup and the coil
of intestine slippery
as a barrista Get
to know the real
me she said and he
licks that tongue
like it's a living thing.

(copyright Joy Waller 2005)

"I don't appreciate your ruse, ma'am." (Clerks)

Not pregnant!

I have a lot of criticism about the way reproduction works (ie, why can't we lay eggs?), and my new one is, why give a girl a period each month, that relieving little reminder that she's not pregnant, if you're going to randomly let it happen five days late, thus paving the way for five days of anxiety?

Building on that: stress makes your period late, I recently discovered this. So what it means is -- Hey, that girl's stressed! Let's have some fun! Let's make her really stressed out!

Anyhow, all is well now. A delightful dinner at Koto: a California roll, two pieces of tuna nigiri, sunomono salad, and a piece of cheese tempura, which was out of this world -- I didn't even know such a wonderful and savoury thing existed. Had meant to go to that party; Matt cancelled; I bought popcorn and came home to him; only, he had gone to the party. But all is still well.

"I don't want to meet someone who shares my interests. I hate my interests." (Ghost World)

I have a wonderful new jacket -- more of a coat really -- it's a patchworky thing with ruffles of warmth at the neck and wrists. Also, a red t-shirt that says "Fairway Market" on the front. I want to get high and then go to Fairway Market with it. Give people advice about produce. How mangoes are a "spiritual" food, etc.

So the student loan people have left me two threatening messages. I can't imagine why. I don't owe them money for three weeks and they successfully took the money I owed them last week, bankrupting me in the process. What could it be about? They were very mysterious. They just said "Call us," but not in a fun, breezy way, it was more of a "We'll shoot you in the knee caps if you don't" way. Idiots. I'm not going to call them until they leave a more detailed message. Two can play that game, darlings.

Off for sushi tonight, I think, then a party at the home of one of Matt's work cronies.

Disappointed Fan Mail from a Canadian neo-Feminist

Yes, that will be the header of the Disappointed Letter I send to Owen Wilson. Words can't say. But: Sure you're not Dignan -- who could be? -- but couldn't you be perfect anyway?

PS Why do I care. I'm a disgrace to independent thought. Also I ate chocolate today. (how predictable -- !)

"If there's one thing you can't hide / It's when you're crippled inside." (J. Lennon)

God, raising a teenager sucks. Yesterday I caught Sambuca strutting around on the kitchen table, which is basically the only thing in her whole entire life she's not allowed to do. She became abusive when I flicked her off, and we had a "session" in front of the full-length mirror, in which I made her stare at her reflection and "reflect" on the kind of life her cosmic twin is living in an alternate universe. Needless to say, this alternate Sambuca was much better behaved than the Sambuca in this plane, which made her very bitchy and uncooperative in general. Also she said some unkind things about the cosmic twin. Thank God she's not qualified to drive.

Imagine

(9 October 1940 – 8 December 1980)

"And I don't feel ashamed / That I sang along." (the Moonshine Revellers)

Drinkin: a strange and strong German beer called HOLSTEN Maibock
Listening to: Tom Waits

Cuts all over my hands, from Sambuca, cardboard boxes, and assorted strife. The world is very bleak but all you need to do is say "Some people look for sushi in all the wrong places" for everything to feel like a magic show.

Plus: Nina Simone -- if we'd ever met, would she have hugged me? She seems like she would have been a hugger.

A page done on the opera story.

Movie: "Tarnation." Composed of old Super-8 home movies, answering machine messages, 80s tv montage. So mint it's excruciating. Samples from "Rosemary's Baby" superimposed over an 11-year-old boy's nervous breakdown, in drag. Directed by Jonathan Caouette and financed in part by Gus Van Sant; I have a feeling I'll be watching "Drugstore Cowboy" soon.

Internet Radio Station Interview With Hot Young Up-and-Coming Canadian Author

(copyright 2005 Joy Waller)

RADIO STATION: But getting back to my original point -- why call the main character 'Gwenyth Paltrow' if she not only has nothing to do with the actress, but also the story is in no way 'winking' at the reader, or indeed making any sort of metaphoric stylistic choices at all?

HOT AUTHOR: It just seemed like the right name.

RS: It felt ... Well, un-considered to me.

HA: Stop it. Stop trying to turn me into a misunderstood young artist!

RS: But you don't have a good reason for calling her Gwenyth Paltrow. In fact, the only time her full name is even mentioned is when the protagonist obsesses over the similarities between the words 'Paltrow' and 'paltry' and wonders if her current economic status isn't perhaps a reflection of --

HA: Well, there's your answer.

RS: But in a novel of over 40,000 words surely the protagonist's name could have more significance. Or any at all.

HA: The significance is that there is no significance. In essence, Gwenyth Paltrow defies significance.

[dead air]
Dead air.

RS: Don't tell me how to do my job.

HA: Then stop meddling in mine. Frankly I'm not sure why you asked me onto the show. It's obvious you're jealous of my youth. Why rub your face in it?

RS: Well. [more dead air] About the open ending, followed by two alternate endings --

HA: To be fair, Janet, I'm going to have to say: 'About that skirt.'

( ..... To be continued ..... It seems as though the Hot Author could be Jen from the Second Story Sessions. I don't recognize Janet however.)

Please settle an arguement for me

I told Matt that Leonard Cohen singing (mumbling) "I'm Your Man" makes me wet and he had to go and talk about that song Gwen Stefani sings where she's panting for the rhythm and how it makes him wet and I said it wasn't original to get wet from panting sounds in fact I would almost consider that to be a gimmick on Ms. Stefani's behalf. Thoughts?

"Everyone's always in favour of saving Hitler's brain. But when you put it in the body of a great white shark, ooohh! Suddenly you've gone too far!" (the Professor, Futurama)

Drinkin: coffee
Listening to: the Breeders

Agenda for day off: purchase very on-sale dress for upcoming staff Christmas party; scrounge up some money to buy Sam more cat food; organize all my papers; write; ration my cigarettes (yesterday: only 8!)

I'm working on a meta-fiction piece about the neighbour on Green St. who used to blast mournful opera music from a tape player at all hours.

Solving the Mysteries of the Universe III

LL cool J,( you have good taste) your guy would
tough on the outside but sweet on the inside!


What would your dream boyfriend look like?
brought to you by Quizilla

Some random Friday Fivers

If you could do one thing in the world, what would you do?
Oversee a media empire.

What is something you collect? Why?
Books, mainly Can-Lit with well-designed covers. Because I can ...

If you could interview any person, who would it be?
Martha Stewart.

If you could ask that person one controversial question, what would it be?
"Is it true you're having phone sex with Burt Reynolds?"

Are you addicted to anything?
Technically? I suppose, cigarettes and alcohol.

If you were told you need to abstain from that one addiction for a week, how long would it take you to crack?
An hour and a half on the cigarettes, maybe three days on the alcohol.

If you could make one ice cream flavor, what would the ingredients be and what would be the name?
Avocado, mango, and pine nuts. The World's Biggest Vaginal Orgasm.

If you could be any character from a book, movie, or television show, who would you be? Why?
Miranda, from Sex and the City. I would like to have total control and be shielded from emotional pain.

If you could be any person in history past, who would you be? Why?
Any of the evil British monarchs. For the parties.

If you could be any celebrity who would you be? Why?
Jude Law. I like his hair.

If you chould change one thing in the world, what would it be?
Nobody would ever hurt an animal.

What if there were horrible consequences to that change?
Bring them on! Let cows be given pocketmoney to purchase human jerky!

What if you had to make a choice, which would ultimately lead to a death, yours or another person's, would you be able to do it?
No, I don't think so. I would fall on my own sword, as it were.

What if that choice also allowed a life for someone else?
Nope. Too chickenshit. Let's all fall on our own swords together.

If you could make out with one person of the same sex, who would it be?
Lauren Ambrose.

If you chould make out with one person of the opposite sex, who would it be?
Johnny Depp.

"I'm so ronery." (Team America)

Ugh, a bad day at work. Why can't everybody be perfect? Like me?

Lately, I have been going to Mall Stores and trying on little black dresses that are out of my price range. I look best in the strapless ones, but I don't have a strapless bra and I'm too accident-prone to wear one without a bra.

bananas and strife

I've been working like a MOFO at work lately. I have three and a half positions at two different locations, and one of them (the positions) is apparently a job that really should be done by two people. It's marvelous. Being overworked refreshes me and it's super-better than being bored or under-utilized. (luggage shop!) Today I even brought a lunch (!) and it was excellent, a multi-grain sandwhich with aged cheddar and avocado and tomato and spinach. Also a banana, which I didn't eat -- bananas always "seem like a good idea at the time," but when it comes to actually peeling and eating them, I usually find myself at a loss ...

Last night Matt and I went out for yuppy-dinner at Pagliacci's with Ben and Michael and basked when the lead singer of the yiddish orchestra that was playing swooped on Michael, thus bringing attention and envy to our table. Back at home Ben and I made mixed berry and chocolate muffins while Michael and Matt did various computer things. Tonight: writing thing.

"So fill the air / With memorized breaths." (the Amps)

So I have come to the realization -- a doctor told me, actually! -- that there is too much stress in my life. Fascinating. And I would say not entirely accurate: it's not that there's stress around per se, but that I have a creative and constant ability to make very small occurences -- no red juice at the store for example -- seem like terrible, terrible things.

When I was eleven a friend of my mother's asked me how I was doing -- at the time, I was doing rewrites for my escapist novel, Chelsea's Revenge -- I glanced up and told her that I was feeling stressed out lately. She sneered and said that at eleven I didn't know what stress was. This all happened, by the way, in a muffin shop.

Bill Valgardson once told me that my ability to observe and detect the hypocricy behind small details is part of what made me a good writer but also, he suspected, a distressed one.

Stress n : A state of extreme difficulty, pressure, or strain
Distress n : Anxiety or mental suffering
or
The condition of being in need of immediate assistance
Writer n : A person who is able to write and has written something
Muffin Shop n : No entry found for muffin shop. (Did you mean Mutton Chop?)
(courtesy of dictionary.com)

Recent Hits

- shots for breakfast (X 13)
- ben isitt (X2)
- maishment (X2)
- The Notebook Kiss in the rain letters excruciating pain
- smirnoff vodka cost half mickey
- butterscotch liquor

Weird Abundance X2

X1: Our invoice for the Share Organics box lists one portabello mushroom -- and that is all we are charged for -- but there are two in the box.

X2: I buy a six-pack of frozen cod fillets only to open the box and discover seven.

Is this an omen? Should I buy a lottery ticket?

"Hey, take all the booze you want! ... But if you drink my last shot, FUCK YOU." (M. Little)

Life sucks.

Except for:

- Matt arriving home with two styrophoam bowls of Manhatten clam chowder.

- The beauty that is orange juice and vodka.

- The prospect of the first season of "Corner Gas" on dvd tonight.

- Ben talking me down from Student Loan fear.

- Matt's promise of venturing out for beer later this evening.

- Sambuca's sleekly beautiful baby gorilla face.

- Nice comments.

- The realization that no matter what else I do in life, I will always have blue eyes, and they will pierce.

- The knowledge that I live in a reality where Twin Peaks existed.

- Hardwood floors.

- Clean laundry.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid day." (B. Rawluk)

Here is the thing. Say you are Student Loan People. Say you decide to take money out of somebody's account with no verbal or written notice or permission. Say you decide to take out not one, not two, not three, but four (4) hundred (100) dollars. Can we say all this? ("Because it really happened!") So we've said it, and maybe in a perfect world we could understand it, and maybe it's not such a big deal, but if you're Student Loan People and you're going to do all that, why also do it on the one day out of 31 that rent is due?

I don't feel like explaining in great detail so here are some fun phrases and words:

BOUNCE

CHEQUE

NEW LANDLORD

OVERDRAFT

SAVINGS ACCOUNT

DECIDE TO QUIT SMOKING

BUY VODKA

TREAT NICE LADY AT BANK LIKE FREE PSYCHOTHERAPIST

Bonus points to whomever can plot what my afternoon was like. Serious. I will write a poem in your honour.

Litany

A whole day off!

On the agenda: laundry, administering aloe vera gel to Sambuca's back, dishes, a mighty breakfast (eggs, tomato, and aged cheddar on multi-grain toast; also orange juice and coffee), call Student Loan people, call my parents, try to memorize the meanings of at least five tarot cards, buy new jeans (or, "new" jeans), go write somewhere, send someone an interesting postcard.

Listening to the Gorillaz; craving clean laundry and a white russian

It snowed today and I felt such an incredible sense of loss because I can no longer point and laugh at the neighbour's gaudy Christmas display -- giant plastic snowmen lit from within -- because now instead of sunshine and fallen leaves there's, well, slush and it almost looks authentic.

Sambuca, it must be noted, does not approve of snow and has started to Act Out.

"March of the Penguins" is an absolutely stunning movie. But somebody forgot to remind me: in nature documentaries, ANIMALS DIE.