Historically, I tend to hate you.
“In the not so distant futures” aside, going crazy isn’t as fun as you might think. I cried a lot about my grandma recently. Don’t worry I managed to milk a hug out of one half of a set of twins that I’m crushing on. Even in despair I got my eye on the prize. Although I mustn’t have looked very cool, eyes red and puffy while trying to bat my eyelashes in a meager attempt to have her notice their lusciousness.
Got madder then I can ever remember, and it did something to me. An unassociated gush of emotion that I had sequestered came out at the most inopportune of times. Crowded rooms and flashing lights didn’t help; enemies lurking in every corner trying to have couched conversations about irrelevant things didn’t either.
Fuck you doctors who suck at your jobs. Fuck you shitty cousins and know it all aunts who descend upon my house with stuff to fill the freezer.
Spinach pie aint gonna help no one right now...
Labels: bad friends
Some things I dont take part in
With nothing else to do I watched the flesh of my fingers part to reveal the outline of my bone as my hands struggled against the wind out of my car window. Maybe I’m getting too fat? I drifted in and out of radio reception and was content to listen to static and was pleasantly surprised whenever tone emerged. Tops of hills sounded great!
Things in Montreal were good, I drove a lot. I didn’t need a 300 pound friend puking in the rental. I didn’t need to have my car towed or to be locked out of the hotel, sleeping in the parking lot in my puke car. Topless breakfast was good, but not as enjoyable as I had remembered. I guess it was a slow day, only one girl was working.
Most importantly I thought a lot about peoples eyes, you always know where to find them. Suspicious sideways glances on dark city streets, two sets of eyes will dart from their feet to meet each other and back again as strangers pass in the night. Vivid wide eyes, feline or otherwise, still catch you even as they twirl on a dance floor. Why is that? Little round orbs alerting you to ones passion, betraying the anonymity that unfamiliarity provides.
Damn.
Labels: tender tender flesh, travel
You know when I heard that? When I was back home.
Going back to Ottawa as good for me this weekend.
Had a great hotel room paid for by great company, it was worlds apart from my small bachelor apartment I had moved from just 4 months earlier. I was just down the street from my old apartment and I could probably even see my old office building from my 16th floor window had I bothered to even think to look in its direction.
Now that I think of it, I felt pretty good about that.
Labels: actual stuff, travel
Oops…I get side tracked sometimes
I heard city and Colour and thought of Saskatoon because they sing of it and I heard it for the first time on a dusty backroad while drinking and driving on the way to the lake. Then I thought of the giant sky… that expressive giant sky.
I wanted to tell you my plans for the summer. Edmonton and St John’s this summer. Completing the circuit, I will now have been to every province in the country. I’ve met both Albertans and Newfies and they’re both kind of fucked and delightful, perhaps I’d be more disgusted were it not for my sexy indifference to incest (no one should tell you how to feel!).
Alas, I’m excited, both seem to be the very extremes of the parts of the country I like the most; the prairies and the Atlantic. Its like Africa...but with like...more food.
I’m getting the feeling my days are numbered…
It’s positively apocalyptic outside. Violent shades of red stab forward beyond menacing and embattled clouds that seem to bleed across the sky in a punishing wind. The sky is threatening, the heat oppressive, the air clutches the sides of your lungs and it makes me feel under attack personally.
I remember the stench of Manhattan in July, the stickiness of a long drive home, the lightness of your fingers trembling in the wind at 100 miles an hour. The air it seems has always been indicative of my feelings, a manifestation of the fact that were all connected despite our best efforts. You think carbon emissions suck? Try breathing in the sloppy seconds out of my lungs bitch.
I just can’t help myself sometimes
So after a particularly raucous final night at the bar I headed back to my hotel. And as usual I started planning out my pee schedule. This is a nightly thing especially when drinking, when I walk down a street rather than taking in the sights or checking girls, I’m scouting locations to pee. That dark alley, that potted plant, that sleeping bum, all catalogued because even if I don’t need them now, I may on the way home.
I was very proud of myself for holding it all the way to my room (although I did have a weak moment in the stairwell when I saw those empty bottles). So when I arrive to find my washroom otherwise indisposed I started to panic. Of course the window was locked and I wasn’t really in the mood to share this side of me with my roommate who was getting lucky in the bathroom, so I headed back out to the hall. Could I make it back to the stair well? This is Poland people prob just piss against the wall all the time, what to do? So as I did my quickest, “oh shit I’m gonna piss myself hobble” down the hall I spotted the garbage can right by the elevators. I had no choice I whipped it out and started pissing. It was a glorious high intensity stream that rang off the inside of the polished metal bin. All around me elevators blinked and beeped up and down as I tried to force out this massive whiz.
I was actually surprised when I didn’t get caught, I have become accustomed to all sorts of embarrassing conversations, although I did have a twinge of awkward shame when waiting for the elevator the next morning and one of the girls on the trip remarked that “this hotel smells like piss”
Labels: actual stuff, travel
still awsome
So one night I woke up on the floor of the hotel hallway in Krakow. My head was tingling and my teeth were itchy so I figured I must have been sleepwalking then physically passed out and collapsed. So I looked up as these two Polish security guards were yelling at me (in Polish) and then I realized what the big deal was…I was naked.
What the eff right? Yeah, I’m not really sure either. So I’m trying to explain to the guard that he needs to calm the fuck down and if he gave me like two seconds to get my shit straight I could remember my room number and we all could be spared the awkwardness of my poorly timed morning wood. SO he clues in that I don’t know where I am (my ahem. ..”divining rod’ isn’t exactly helping) so he starts knocking on doors to see if he can find my roommate. So the last thing I need is more judgmental people from my trip to cry about my dong in the circle the next day so I have to figure something out fast.
Just then I see my friend Alexi and he lets me into his room to hide while I try and remember my room number. So I agree to hide in his bathroom while he goes to the front desk to figure out my room number, of course that’s precisely the moment his roommate wakes up to find me naked in his bathroom…awkward! So after a few embarrassing minutes we determine the coast is clear and I’m able to creep down the hallway to my hotel room which I know remember. As I’m tip toeing out of his room, a group of people on the trip come around the corner to catch me sneaking out of his room naked. Great.
The pictures are already on facebook.
Labels: little thoughts, tender tender flesh, travel
There's nothing special, I swear
One of the things I really wrestled with in Europe was over whether or not to take a stone from Birkenau. I wanted it for my Naugpapa’s grave, as he was Jew who survived the Holocaust; I though it would be a nice “fuck you” to the Nazis. Not really sure what it meant, but I guess control over the very soil that housed these atrocities, the simple fact that you were able to leave and take what you wish was empowering I suppose.
So I stood on the rusted tracks at the platform where selection would take place, to my left you were sent directly to the gas chambers, to my right, you live another day. So where the track split I bent down and picked up the stone closest to the division between life and death. I was worried that I would be bringing evil back home with me, and I made several attempts before I could finally do it. I considered leaving it behind as well, first at Birkenau, then in Warsaw, then at the airport. Now it’s sitting in my living room waiting until I can visit my Naugpapa’s burial site.
