Blue Lights

The smell of the meals at the old folks home smells like blood. I sit beside you knowing full well that your dentures used to make clicking noises whenever you moved your jaw, I thought your jaw would break off. Donald gets wheeled to the table and he doesn’t take his eyes off of me. “I’ve been taking the same damn pills for 4 years straight!” Maybe he’ll go to his room and break things like he usually does. The huge dog walks down the hallway, must be done his rounds, I want to bring my dog here someday.

I was sleeping as usual. I woke up to hear that muffled tinny sorry excuse for a cell phone ring song. The only reason I knew it was Furtado song was because everytime I was with you you’d sing it as loud and clearly as possible. You’d left yourself 300 texts and phone calls in total, you must be angry that I didn’t return the phone to you sooner. Its just a phone, right?

We were sitting in that classroom, no teacher at all. We were being good kids I think, but then somebody suggested we run. Run from what I’m still not sure but I pretended I knew like everybody else did. My teeth were bothering me again, the elastics were attached to the top two teeth and the bottom ones making a funny looking triangle. It hurt so bad and they kept getting tighter and tighter as we raced around the corners and down the stairs and up the stairs. I tried rearanging them but that was difficult too. We ran to the theater and the doorman shushed us and said we could only get in when Cory started singing. None of us knew Cory so we assumed that when a male teenagers wobbly voice started singing we would enter through the wispy curtains and take a seat that we didn’t pay for. We entered at the wrong time and everybody looked at us with creased foreheads.

Its fascinating how other people can make a living by making someone popular (http://www.squareoak.com/).

Hah, we’re connected somehow! I said “If you can’t fuck em joing em.” But its nice hearing you say no more talking, no more heart beating, and no more dreams.

Reading, cooking, west wing, loud music, meditation, exercising, writing, painting make me happy right now.
Chewy habits, impatient people, fear, fetishes make me mad right now.
Vulnerability, simplicity, sunshine, the point of no return, area connection make me lethargic right now.

Last night was difficult to comprehend. I was sitting on a normal toilet in a very un-normal house. It curved this way and that but was pencil straight in others. My mind zoomed in on the bathroom and there were no walls on one side, it was like a doll house, charming yet breezy. You are mine, garlic. I was sitting there, elbows on my hard knees, hands cupping the underside of my chin and my fingers sliding up to the corners of my eyes (the part we used to pull back to look chinese). You came up to me, I didn’t mind I was only doing the number two and we’re friends, friends pop in sometimes. You have no control over what your bowels do. You farted on right by my stooped over face, I sat there with my fingers sliding up to my not so chinese cornered eyes. I finished, I can’t remember who did the wiping or if the wiping even got accomplished but we ran down the crooked stairs. Once I fell on your back and you kept going while I clung. We burst through the door and you let me fall, it was supposed to happen. We ran through the green green grass and weed seeds flew this way and that making me think that we were in a movie. I had a flashback to grade school when some friends tried to fix their problems in a park. It was a disturbing memory for some reason, back then thats just how things were done, they were fixed, while today things are supposed to be accepted.

http://jonnherschend.com/, http://cynthiaonainnis.com/index.html

The cauliflour surprise was good, I don’t know about the surprise.  Maybe if I’d made it I’d've liked it more.  Maybe next time they’ll make me open my eyes and the afro beat keeps kicking.  Today I wrote and typed for 4 hours and I’m pretty sure I hate the end result.  And maybe thats why I’m spurting out angry remarks or maybe its just the pops in all of us.  WIP!

Director: Danny Boyle
Actors: Ewan McGregor, Ewen Bremner, Jonny Lee Miller, Kevin McKidd, Robert Carlyle, Kelly Macdonald, Peter Mullan, James Cosmo, Eileen Nicholas, Susan Vidler, Pauline Lynch, Shirley Henderson, Stuart McQuarrie, Irvine Welsh, Dale Winton
Screenplay: http://www.godamongdirectors.com/scripts/trainspotting.shtml

I’ll pretend I’ve done drugs and say this film is the real deal. All joking aside, I believed every bit of this movie and that says something. This film shined where others flopped.

I usually hate narration, but not this time. I love the beginning and ending list Renton shoots off and how I sat in the comfy chair thinking about those simple yet resounding words. The one scene that is burned into my mind is the one where the camera switches between a slowmotion Renton in his flat and on a soccer feild, falling. I never knew something so simple could be so ethereal and poetic.

The one scene I hated was the one showing where he was moving. It seemed like an amateur move and something I’d see in a tv sitcom between set movements.

This movie made me laugh (toilet dive), and feel horrid inside (withdrawal, baby). It was a rollecoaster I might want to get on a couple more times in the future.

The phone kept ringing.
I had so much groceries in my bag I could barely lift them. You didn’t have as much but you did have quite a fair amount. We checked them out, got our colorful reciepts and brought them to the bar to pay. I didn’t have any cash like you did. I remember the time when you said you wanted to go to Seattle and low and behold there was a brochure sitting there saying “Seattle” in sparkly obnoxious letters. I pointed at it but you didn’t look. You refused to give into my pleadings and for that I hated you. You asked the bar tender if people called Seattle the south lake and he said -yes, the south lake of british columbia-. Satisfied you turned to me and said -we’ll go there, do some extreme rollerblading-. I thought you were kidding, I always think that. We went to Seattle and strapped on those rollerblades and went up and down those steep paved mountain trails like it was 1999. I was scared I’d fall but when you put your mind to it you don’t have to fall, you don’t. Then I saw you in pause, rewind, fastforward, slowmotion, pause, and then rewind again. I was a little scared.

Sunday I couldn’t hear, monday I ran half of a marathon and later couldn’t see, hear, or think, tuesday was my dizzy day. Catching up could be disgusting. Please remove me from your humble lists.

We drove and drove until we saw the 24 hour donut shop.  It looked greasy, full of sugar, and just enough sketch to get us through the night.  We stocked up on the donuts (and a couple donut holes too).  We drove a bit more, I had a bit of icing sugar dust on my shirt but I shook it off onto the already dusted floor.  We arrived at a univercity and thought that it had nice architectual features so we went inside. We sat down on the bright red couches and lounged. Some freshman asked where the nearest donut shop was and we butted in and said to them four doors down. A couple of them stayed behind, one said he didn’t need any extra fat. We took him and his friend who happened to be a girl to the local pool. It was a perfect day for staying in and swimming. He said he wanted to be able to feel his ribs again. I jumped on him and tried to feel his ribs, we toppled over on the wooden steps and our bodies pressed against each other. I couldn’t help but feel a little bit aroused. I jumped off and he walked into the showering room, fantasize some. We heard the voice of a twenty something laughing (or giggling) and were both pleasantly surprised.

Maybe the doctor needs to be called, maybe I should be worried about my ears, or maybe I should just give them an enema, eitherway, I should worry more about my body (teeth, ear lobes, toes). I’m thankful for this house, this job, this shrew, and this water, I do believe in this.

This weekend has been a doozy. Friday night after school we ate cheerios for supper and zucchini chocolate cake for dessert then booked it to a concert. We didn’t get lost on the way but on the way out take a wild guess. They sang I stressed. He offered coffee I said “no, I need to get up early to work” so I went home without any coffee in my body. I got home turned off the light so nobody would have a sleepless night. I ate cheerios till 1 and got up at 7 and worked till 5 and played texting games with a human I’ve talked less than the amount of fingers on a hand. I went to bed at 1 again and lost that god forsaken hour of sleep.

I woke up this morning and it felt like I was in an airplane and forgot to chew gum. I’m making this too difficult. I updated the blogs theme, title, widgets, pages, and banner. I needed something to change for the better today. I’ll call you now I think.

The Lookout
MAR 27 Jason Collett - Park Theater
MAR 29 Minus the Bear - Royal Albert
APR 13 Caribou - Royal Albert
MAY 9 Tokyo Police Club - Garrick
MAY 31 City and Colour - Burt
JUL 10 Folk Fest - Birds Hill

Haircuts & Triangles
Au Revoir Simone - The Disco Song - 2:19
8MM - Never Enough - 4:15
Kings of Leon - Velvet Snow - 2:11
Patrick Wolf - The Libertine - 4:23
Pretty Girls make Graves - Blue Lights - 3:03
Say Hi to your Mom - They Write Books about This Sort of Thing - 3:53
The Organ - Brother - 4:01

We ran down the hall like zombies were chasing us. There were in fact no zombies or reality, either way you look at it they both don’t count.  We went to the kinder’s room.  It had a balcony and everything but not in the dark.  We waited and waited.  I thought we waited.  We really were supposed to do it together, its in the rule book.  We opened the door together, I thought we did, the crack of light split your bodies in two.  You didn’t stop, you never would do that for me.  Instead you shot me in the dark.  I give the fuck up.  Nope, you sure as hell can’t decide.  I slipped through the cracking light and flitted across the parking lot.  Slipped a couple of times, but nobody was looking, absolutely nobody.  You teens were supposed to follow me but were back in that innocent room doing those secret crimes against humanity.  I fumbled with my pocketed keys and found the rounded cornered one, slid it into the hole, and twisted my wrist.  That was easy.  I drove onto the highway and the car seemed to guide itself into a farm’s driveway.  Sometimes its nice not thinking for myself.  Cars make things mundane and interesting all together.  I yank the keys, turn them back and push the lever so the neon orange shows.  Good.  I walked to the door and a couple of loonies are staring back at me.  They hold what looks like those cups that aren’t biodegradable that come from those columns beside work water coolers except that these cups look brown and bubbly, almost crispy.  The two loonies offer me some baked cup and I take it.  A big burnt bubble stares back at me, I can’t help it and so I take a nibble.  Thats how it’ll go down I guess.  The cup was gross so its time to lay on their couch.  They stare but I take it in stride and relax.

I wish I could pinpoint things inside of my head.  Its my peace of mind and I can fill it with whatever I please.  I guess you could say that I’m down, but its not like last time.  I’m not sick to my stomach, I’m not feeling terrible.  I’m just not up like I should be.  My comments may not make sense but art doesn’t have to make sense, going to the bathroom doesn’t have to make sense, reading a book doesn’t have to make sense, walking doesn’t have to make sense.  They shouldn’t be able to control what I listen to and what I look at but they do.  Round and oiled is what you are, common I’ll drive you in that muscle car.  Internal fuck-up.  Too bad I don’t want it!  Whatevs.

I can’t remember totally what I wrote last night but I can remember it was good and then word press was angry with my ass and decided it wouldn’t post anything. This is what I can muster up from the depths of a part of my brain that I can’t even pronounce. Maybe this is fates way of saying what I will do shouldn’t be done but who needs fate anyways?

The blood smelt of hospital meat and hospice feet. There’s something about the undiscovered and the intrigue. Those drunks and pinstriped overalls make me cry at night. I want to give up but I only want to take one step backwards, is that even possible? Its been knocking me all the wrong ways.

Ode to the people beside me:
-I want to smack you up main street and back with your inappropriate words, but you will go on to do great things.
-You should remember me more often even when I remember you, you almost got me that morsel of food.
-You didn’t intimidate me today, maybe it was because we were lovers hypothetically speaking.
-I thought you looked different today, I stared at you at class when you were unawares and I wondered if I felt differently about you. Damn stirrings.
-I can’t believe you ever did anything with her, you don’t seem alike and you seem like its old news when really its not.
-Stop talking like that please, I like it when you refer to yourself as I and Me and Pee.
-I’m scared that being a failure will make you act like I’m a failure.
-Its like you have a totally different mind than I do and yet you know me, you really do.

He lay on his makeshift bed and envisioned naked women, tried to rather. Fantasies don’t always come true. She threw a pillow at him and he was jerked back into the real world, where the real people can see naked girls in their minds. Maybe this wasn’t his night, maybe he wouldn’t get any sleep, maybe he’d end up in a cold sweat not knowing what to do. He stumbles to the bathroom and turns the tap to ‘frigid’. He sprays water on his face and looks at his brown eyes in the mirror. Cold showers help you burn calories and a cold shower is a right of passage. He pulls of his zoo shirt and slips off his flannel pants and starry boxers. He looks back in the mirror and tries to envision a naked woman beside his flaccid penis. He turns the shower to C and forces himself not to shiver and weeps like a baby. Maybe this was the right of passage he’d been searching for, maybe this was how he’d get through the day. He choked back the tears until he stopped producing them and turned the shower off and stepping back onto the cold tile floor of the bland bathroom. He pulls up the starry boxers and flannel pants over his shrunken penis. He pulls on his zoo shirt and slips back into bed. He likes to think that in the morning the sheets will be dry and there won’t be anything on his skin. He stares at the ceiling.