(from friday five)
1. What is the one outfit/piece of clothing/accessory you own that makes you feel incredibly good whenever you wear it? Why?
I'm partial to each and every one of my zip-up hoodies, because they make me feel young and daring. I suppose the Black one is my favourite at the moment. I stole it from Morgan. I also have a new Black tank top, tight, which made a lot of my errands today go more smoothly than they usually do ... Including, but not limited to, a "personal" email address from a young bank-man "should I need any more assistance."
2. What do you do to make yourself feel better when you're in a funk?
Drink a lot or go for walks with Matt, or watch very bad movies with friends.
3. Has anyone ever surprised you in a way that let you know you were special? How?
Every time Matt makes me dinner, which is a lot lately. The time last summer when Ben accosted me on Fort St. to give me Allen Ginsberg books. My recently departed Job has been pretty damn cool lately, too.
4. When you are having a "good day," how do you spread the happiness to others?
I call my family sometimes when I'm in a good mood. I give money or cigarettes to junkies. I smile at everybody.
5. What is one thing that puts you in a bad mood, no matter how good you were previously feeling?
Calls from people to whom I owe money, especially when we've spoken within the past week and I thought everything was very clear and settled, but no, they've randomly decided to make me feel as though I'm breaking the law again. Fuckers, you know who you are: I'm putting you in a fucking poem tonight, damn what the BC Arts Council thinks, ha!
Yesterday I tried on three cocktail dresses with no intention of buying them, in the following colours: champagne, flamingo, and white. I never wear these colours. I usually avoid cocktail dresses, too: they had flirty, strappy tops and lots of sparkles, swooping fabric around the waist and hemline. I blame reading about Marilyn Monroe for a week straight.
A trio of punks marched down the street, screaming, America ... Fuck yeah ....
I went to Logan's to catch the tail end of the Hootenany and was told by a drunken middle-aged man, who'd just bonded with Matt, that I was "the cutest thing he had ever seen," at least thirty times. He kept forgetting he had told me and would go into the whole spiel again. I finally said, "You're embarassing me." Then he started talking about how I reminded him of his daughter. And then, how I was a slut. Issues!
Left quite soon after. Matt made us a tofu caesar salad for dinner. I've resolved to drink one glass of soy milk a day.
Four hours ago: Slathered on sunscreen, put on hat, gathered handbag, donned airy skirt, set off in search of Boone's sangria and the Junky Park: gave up after less than thirty seconds, returned to the cool dark Womb of the house.
Last night: Went to see the double feature at the Roxy, Nacho Libra and The Da Vinci Code. Left after 20 minutes of Nacho, sipped cool beers at Fifth Street. Returned for Da Vinci: quite well-put-together guilty pleasure, suprising chemistry between the two leads, intriguing in its way. Didn't notice the last ten minutes as gripped in sudden pain by teeth, muffling sobs, gripping Matt's hand and hoping the other moviegoers didn't notice.
Night before: Going-away party with Work People. Ferris's Oyster Bar: yam fries, oyster stew, a gin oyster shooter! Followed by more drinks at Steamer's.
Couple days earlier: Vancouver. The Japanese consulate, much paperwork and panicked long distance phone calls to Toronto. Got it all done. Roaming the streets of Van, which I love all of a sudden. J and P's apartment: their friend R, Heineken in cans. Video games, yes. A solitary trip back to Vic. Ghetto ferry. Falling asleep on a succession of buses.
Painful dental work: Root canal! Fillings. Still hurt. And still, it's not all done.
Wrapped up a cool garage sale a couple of hours ago -- Matt made 280 and I made 202; hurrah! Got rid of a lot of junk, which was nice, but also saw good things go to good homes -- a dad and his little kid made away with the tv, vcr, and dvd; Ben's friend got the antique table; Ben himself got a schwak of stuff: vegetable steamer, Japanese mugs, sea wicker end table, books, cd's, a typewriter, more (thanks Ben).
Dental/physical problems are fluctuating; I'll wake up and be fine and then two hours later intense pain; by evening kind of okay, etc. Makes work kind of difficult. But I'm getting better. You know what's great? Extra-strength Advil!
Friends rock. Thanks so much to everyone who came to the garage sale. It made my day to see you guys.
It's Colin's birthday and in a couple hours there's a Dinner Thing. I'm going to wear my orange sari-skirt, my sequinned argyle top, and high-heeled black boots, but am concerned this won't clash enough.
Tentative plans to quit smoking when this pack is done.
Matt's at the Hootenany.
Our house is in shambles! But a good shambles.
When I was 12, I wrote a novel called Chelsea's Revenge. My brother J, 10 at the time, wrote a non-fiction novella called Winter Wonderland. He's never written anything since, but going through files today I found a copy of the novella, and think he'd better get writing again soon -- I was a decent writer at 10 but nothing as good as the excerpts that follow:
(1)
When we got home Dad drove Joy to her job and I changed into some dry clothes. Then I fetched myself an apple and snuggled down to read No Creeps Need Apply. I contentedly read my book for about two hours before Rick got home. He had some flowers, some cheesecake with strawberries, a half eaten bag of ripple chips, two cans of chicken noodle soup, and lots of grapes.
When supper was ready he called my mom. She came into the dining room more asleep than awake and clicked on the TV. Star Trek: The Next Generation crackled to life. "Damn," I thought, "it's half-over."
When we finished Star Trek we watched Inside Edition, and Jeopardy, and then Rick turned it off. "I'm gonna hit the sack early tonight," he said.
Karen hobbled towards her bedroom.
"But Dad," I protested, "Street Legal is on soon, plus it's eight and we don't usually go to sleep till NINE."
"Bedtime," my father said.
"Well, okay," I reluctantly agreed.
!!!!
(I should mention here that my mother was not, as the narrative suggests, a drunk or a drug addict, but rather was quite seriously ill with pnemonia or something similar, which explains her behaviour, the huge amounts of tv, and the weird food ..... - Joy)
(2)
My brother Lance mouthed "Faggot" at me, and stuck his tongue out. Of course Karen didn't see any of this going on so I had a long argument with Lance but of course he won.
Then I started to watch Men's figure skating. Guess what? Kurt Browning got all 1st ordinals but only got 3rd place, I'm disgusted. I was so mad I popped a personal pizza in the oven! (I eat when I get mad, I eat.) I ate all that pizza. Then Joy came home and we talked about the tribulations of babysitting. Kurt got fifth overall.
"I think I'll plow the driveway," said Rick.
"I'll help you," I ventured.
Then he plowed. Man oh man did he ever plow! He plowed over my secret hiding forts and then he plowed about a quarter of Rogers Road.
When he finished all that I asked him if I could steer for a bit. He said okay so away I went. I can steer pretty good, but then I went into the driveway and tried to park the tractor. This as all things turned out to be a failure. Everything went in slo-mo. I didn't know how to stop the thing so slowly it crushed Rick's tools. Seconds later it sputtered to a sickening stop. I managed to help my dad a bit by getting his tools out from under the tractor.
(3)
I quickly jogged back to the house. As soon as I got there I drew myself a nice, hot bath. I rested in sheer hotness. Then I got out. When I had towelled off I ducked into my room and got changed. When I got out my dad asked me if I wanted to go get some groceries.
"Sure," I said.
On the way down we talked about cars. Then we bought some soup from Cooper's. On the way back we talked about automatics and standards. Rick said back in his day they called an automatic an old lady's car. I had to chuckle about that.
When we got home I went to the pumphouse with Keto. We were a quarter way down when I saw a little snowbank with some rubbish under it. Keto started digging it up. "Looks like a little troll," I remarked to myself.
(I love this! It's like a Guy Madden short film crossed with a Raymond Carver story crossed with one of Adrian Mole's diaries, and there's EIGHT PAGES OF IT. I'm photocopying it and sending a copy to J asap. I think my parents will get a kick out of it, too. It's all pizza, sibling angst, my dad's gruffness, mum's phantom illness, the '94 Olympics, and lots of unkind and sexist comments about yours truly: eg, 'We did the dishes -- "EWWWWWW" Joy protested, "IT'S RUINING MY SOFT LITTLE HANDS."' I also love that this is an honest representation of what our home-schooled lives were like: J did an incredible amount of chores, including cooking; I was often out at a babysitting job, in great demand because I was available during school hours; and we watched an unhealthy amount of tv and also played outside in the woods for hours and hours. Let it be noted, my parents are not to blame: J and I were often punished for not finishing our schoolwork, and more rigid schedules were put into place, but then they would disappear, and I think we wound up with a better education because of it ... )
So, in that fucked up sense of 'humour' the universe has, it seems like Sambuca will be dead -- cancer -- few weeks to few months.
What is your most marked characteristic?
Complete organization crossed with complete panic. Or, optimism and gallows humour in the face of adversity that is (probably) self-created. Everything is funny, even flowers.
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
What are these trinkets, these tokens? All mean something and represent work done competently (since when do I consider art work?) but probably living with someone for 7 years without driving him away is most special.
When and where were you happiest?
Green St. drinking white russians on the back porch with Trev. Opening my mouth and looking at my recent, disgustingly expensive, and beautiful dental work. Curving my arm around Matt's waist at 3 am. Drinking cups of coffee with beautiful friends as they spout genius in the form of gossip or self-reflexive neurosis.
What is your greatest regret?
Let's go on the light side and say never taking Barry up on the free guitar lessons. I could have been girl-with-guitar by now, folks.
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Being around my family, increasingly. I want them all -- Ma and Pa, Clint + Elisa and kids, the Other Brothers, Matt's family -- to live near me and we shall have Sunday afternoon dinners. Fuck I AM AGING, THIS IS THE FIRST SIGN IS IT NOT?
What is your most treasured possession?
My optimism.
Where would you like to live?
The East Coast. For one stereotypical year.
What is your greatest fear?
Failure. At anything. Especially: love, writing, likability.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Oh, being a heartless bitch, I suppose. No. Procrastination. Paranoia. Emotional distance.
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Inconsistency. Without a doubt. Exhibit any negative trait you like, and I will learn to deal with it -- but you must be this way always. Don't change. Don't be nice one second and mean the next. Don't, for the love of God, be a Gemini.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Piety.
What is your greatest extravagance?
Cigarettes. Reading for several hours a day.
What is your favorite journey?
Thanks to BH, I will always have a fondness for ... you know ... the mythical journey.
What is it that you most dislike?
Fake. Dumb. War. Money.
What is the quality you most like in a man?
Integrity. Though that's vague, yeah? How about, the ability to shout Newfies are all sodomists it's not racist if it's true on a crowded Sunday afternoon Logan's pub patio?
What is the quality you most like in a woman?
Intelligence. Times fifty.
What do you most value in your friends?
Well, I like my friends to be good-looking.
If you were to come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
A Gypsy, but a modernized kind of shallow one.
Who have been the greatest influences on you?
Positive or negative? I guess everybody's both. My mother. My father. Matt. My fifth grade english teacher, Mrs. Biggar. High school: Dave Fehr. Rick Mercer I like, same with everybody in Kids in the Hall ... Mrs. Margaret Thatcher for her downright audacity! Who I hate though: is Claire Dains. God!
How would you like to die?
Firing squad. Absolutely no doubt. A final cigarette, a final Long live the Republic!, and it's all over.
Tip! Don't mix extra-strength painkillers with antibiotics and four cups of coffee on an empty stomach! DON'T! Unless it's your thing. I am talking to myself, but veryvery fast, words tripping over one another legs and arms vibrating and my fingers snapping and flicking at the air! Listsmental lists! Will go to bed, will read Joyce Carol Oates like a madwoman, will photocopy and frame author photo of Joyce Carol Oates, will try to remember what I just said to the chap at the Japanese Embassy in Vancouver, will place pack of frozen peas on my forehead!
1. Have you ever had an addiction?
This question is laughable. Ha! What haven't I been addicted to? It started aged five, eating a dozen apples at a time just because I could. Now I guess smoking and coffee are the main ones, alcohol being more a problem to monitor and make cynical wisecracks about than an addiction.
2. Are you afraid of the dark?
Only if I'm sleeping alone.
3. What's your favorite flavor of ice cream?
Vanilla. Deconstruct as you will.
4. Have you ever been to the circus?
Yes, as a youngster. I rode an elephant, which was a huge disappointment, because I'd assumed I would be the only person on the elephant, and that it would be bareback, and that the elephant would sing and dance. None of these things came to pass. There were eight of us kids, on some kind of horrible red saddle, and the elephant shat and the kids' mouths were smeared with cotton candy and I remember feeling so, so sad that the elephant had to carry all of us.
5. What do you think of North Korea testing nuclear weapons?
What I think about this is beside the point. What is on the other side of the point is that if the USA is testing nuclear weapons, as they have been doing for quite some time, they should grow up, give their little red button a good polish, and stop throwing a hissy fit every time it looks like someone else might blow up the world before they get a chance to. Go oil!
Today I walked past a youth hostel carefree in flowing orange skirt and tight purple shirt, bare feet in two-toned shoes, and heard someone lolling on the patio chairs comment "Hairy legs" to a companion.
Was it my imagination? I've been prone to delusion in the past. Ya never can tell.
Tomorrow evening is a picnic potluck for Matt's birthday, followed by beers and music on the beach. I can't wait. I will make a mighty potato salad.
I've had deja vu a couple of times lately. This is a good sign.
Sambuca is GONE.
She's been taken away to a better home, a better life, but the pain is great.
Our first morning without her: no purrs, no mad dashes for the front door (she did that cuz she loved us), no jumping up onto the lap.
- doing shots (X6)
- nikki mah (X2)
- what is the waist size of jade on america's next top model
- femme joy
- "you long legged guitar pickin man"
- Joseph Sabovcik
- joy
- doing laundry
- famous canadian favourite drinks
- shots for breakfast
- breakfast cool names
- middle names for "Joy"
- matt and jen rogers
- girl jedi names
Thank God, no more sex ones! I stopped doing this ping list for a couple of months because the number of obscene sex ones was so high, and writing the words down here again just generated more hits. Ya reap what ya sow, yeah?
It's Canada Day night. The fireworks just ended: I don't like the fireworks, so many reasons, just one of which is the screaming and terrified sea gulls you can hear between the explosions. It's so sad.
Matt got off work at 10:30 -- 10:30! -- and I'm waiting for him to come home so we can hang out and celebrate a little.
Canada Days Past:
2005 -- Michael, Ben and I decide to hang out and have a few drinks; Matt shows us his digital camera tour pics; pics accidentilly get deleted; Matt in his grief blames the three of us and actually yells at company; the three of us walk sadly up and down Oak Bay Ave till B+M decide to go home.
2004 -- A big party on Haultain; I get irrational and flee to a field to pout; Jess and Steph find me and try to cheer me up; I yell at Steph's roommate; Ford (an American) leads the party in O Canada at midnight; I ride great distances in a shopping cart.
2003 -- Matt and I watch the fireworks downtown and are so disillusioned that we leave halfway through, wind up at Big Bad John's. Randomly, Morgan is there and we get superdrunk together. We share a table with a bunch of foreigners who are staying at the youth hostel. For no reason under the sun, I start smoking again.
2002 -- Matt and I catch a Big Sugar concert at the Legislature.
2001 -- Watching the fireworks at the Inner Harbour while sipping nips of rye from a flask.
The downtown is nuts today. Thousands of people, half of them waving mini Canadian flags or wearing t-shirts that say CANADA EH or HUG A CANADIAN or HAPPY CANADA DAY. There were also two women, spotted an hour or so apart, fiercely wearing cleavage-revealing tank tops with agressive patterns of bald eagles sporting huge talons all mixed up with stars and stripes. Tourist season.
Hung out at the pub with a bunch of co-workers yesterday but left after a couple hours, feeling all withdrawn and alienated. I fucking hate that. Sometimes it just hits with no warning and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
Day before was way better -- after spending a stupid amount of time terrified out of my wits that I'd done my taxes wrong, Angel Michael came round and looked it all over for me and pronounced it perfect. And gave me tips and whatnot. Right on. Took him out for a beer after -- and by beer I mean jug, if it's all in one vessel it still counts as one, right? Right? -- and it was uberfun.
Like attracts like: you reap what you sow. The truth of the universe is contained in that idea ..... People who are loving, for example, automatically attract love; people whose lives are ruled by fear will consistently be presented with something very real to be fearful about. Your thought patterns can actually physically change the experiences you go through. It seems like once you know this, it should be so easy, which is not the case -- when you're stressed, as I am now, it's difficult to just turn it off, and as a result every time I turn around it seems I've created this big huge new stress. But at least being aware of it is something. I'm attracted to how logical this idea is. Like it should be abstract but it really isn't.
Some things that aren't logical and therefore piss me off:
1) How women who give birth -- perhaps one of the most difficult things on the planet -- are rewarded with .... stretch marks and weight gain and sometimes depression!
2) How people who live to be very old are rewared with .... poverty and poor health!
3) How people who quit smoking are rewarded with .... weight gain!
Why wasn't I consulted on these things? I would have done it way different:
1) Women who give birth get $10,000 and a permanently super-toned bod.
2) Old people receive a free mansion and the closer they get to death the better their health becomes.
3) People who quit smoking get a lifetime supply of organic mangoes plus super-toned bod for life, and no cravings, ever.
