careful with that axe..

addendum.

2010-12-03T12:09:00.000-08:00

some slight addendum
his nervous smile

i begin to understand
(this interest in)
men.

haiku.

2010-12-01T22:55:00.000-08:00

i've not realized

'till now, but i think that i

forgot to grow up.

yes.

2010-12-01T20:09:00.000-08:00

yes i slept with you
while your boyfriend waited
and yes
i fell for you
even though i knew that you weren't the type of girl
who fell for corresponding shapes
who appreciated symmetry.
yes,
i'm scared of you and
i don't necessarily trust you and
i should probably know better
by now and
you're young,
but so am i
           so am i.
so yes.
                  yes, i will forgive you
against my better judgment
regardless of what i've learned before
despite my intuition
smashing it's head against the bedroom wall.
yes.
                     yes, i want to find truth
in our confluences
rushing, frothing, choppy
nervous integration
tempestuous gyration
a sucking undercurrent to drag your body
all the way out to sea.
yes,
                    please yes.
my heart agrees
with the shapes our shadows make
together    through the blinding night
with the silence between our lips
with the promise
of blood and broken bones.

2010-11-29T22:43:00.000-08:00

oh no, you are young and impetuous
so livid that the rain beads off of you, scurries to the ground
you are hoisting up your flags and doing what you want and
there is a heady oblivion about you
there is a speculative verve about you
there is little won't pale in the face of your passion
your youthful bones.
oh no, you are young
and impetuous
and i guess i can't say that i'm not either
because i am.
yet something heavy drags it's feet along the ground
a leaden, unforgiving beast with it's claws dug in my shoulders
i drag along the ground with it
for i am frightened of incessant car tires through drowned streets
perpetual mediocrity
rushing from nowhere
to nowhere
and going very fast.
i am frightened of these useless comas
endless nonexistence
the color beige and capitalism and checking the mail
i am frightened because the hugest part of me
wants only to disappear into this mess
the hugest beast in me
dragging, dragging, dragging
tells me that's all there is
and i am not so young to vehemently ignore
this wriggling, worming reality
anymore.

2010-11-25T09:05:00.000-08:00

there are some things i like about you. for example:

the noise you make in the middle of a sentence when you are searching for the right word.
the way you hold your pens.
the sound of your shoes against the ground, or your feet across a floor.
your laughter.
your unexpected moments of innocence.
the smell of your skin.
the shapes your hands make when you are nervous.

but then... i like these things about most people.

a modest proposal.

2010-11-23T20:16:00.000-08:00

can has click for make bigger.

dear financial institution. please die.

2010-11-23T16:12:00.001-08:00

small font. click for make bigger image.

dom.

2010-11-23T01:37:00.000-08:00

my friend said, maybe you should see a dominatrix.
so i looked up a dom.
but i was too scared of her to go.
what if it wasn't the same with someone i didn't know?
what if it was terrible; what if i really didn't like it?
if i just couldn't get into subspace?
how could i give that level of submission to someone i'd just met?
my friend said, maybe you should see a dom.
but i was too scared of myself to go.

a list to convince myself.

2010-11-21T21:19:00.000-08:00

i have this tendency to romanticize utterly hair-brained, ridiculous ideas.
i don't know why.
once, i decided it would be a good idea to shave my head. ok.. like, three times. some people just don't look good with shaved heads.
once i purposefully made up my mind that it would be a good idea to total my new car. a car i really liked. without insurance to cover it. my bank account hates me.
then i decided to buy another one.
another time i thought it would be a good idea to go planting the summer after i'd broken 11 vertebrae in my back and neck in a rather magnificent car wreck. yeah. that was a good plan.
or the tattoo conceived in the throes of acid at shambhala.
or the tattoo in thai script conceived on some beach somewhere near the bottom of a bucket drink. yeah. real deep, that one. i tell everyone it says "danger." what else am i supposed to say? "oh, it's lyrics from this shitty indie song that, like, mean alot to me, y'know man?" uh.
or buying my ticket to next year's shambhala whilst thoroughly screwed up.
we started a fight club, once.
or heroin. yep. that was a smart choice.
i moved to alberta, one time. well, i changed my license and insurance over, and then came to my senses and stopped myself just sort of certain suicide.
once i decided that saving up to go to southeast asia for 4 months was completely feasible. in 2 months. at minimum wage. somehow, rent didn't factor into my equations. i borrowed alot of money.
i dropped out of highschool once, thinking that only idiots needed diplomas and that cigarettes and youthful ideals could propel me through my entire life. well done, sarah.
i dated a pterodactyl.
i sold my birthright for a bowl of soup.
i decided that polyamory was a good idea. oh.. wait. i still do that.
once i thought it would be ok to start sleeping with my friend's girlfriend. hmm. for some reason i feel like i was supposed to adhere to the bro code, there. idiot. idiot idiot idiot.
one time i blatantly gave my heart to someone who obviously didn't care for me. or.. hang on. i think i always do that. hmm.
i lived on city streets.
i thought once that it might be hilariously funny to smash my cell phone. well, i may have thought that 3 times. successively.
rock bottom. yeah. once, through my astounding use of logic and foresight, i reasoned that hitting rock bottom, as hard as possible, was the best idea i'd ever had. one of its facets involved getting on a plane high on coke. i'll get back to you on that..
got arrested for arson.
got arrested for theft.
got arrested for assault.
got arrested for assaulting an officer.
got arrested for assault with a deadly weapon.
got arrested for stealing a car. destruction of public property. vandalism. breaking and entering. possession of drugs. drinking in public. disturbance of peace. being a general fucking retard.
once i was thrown in a looney bin. for being looney.
once i thought it would be smart to bank at a credit union. "hi, here are all of my hard-earned monies. i don't ever want to see them or have access to them again. kthxbai."
once i thought it was brilliant to erect a great, flaming roadblock out of haybales and gasoline.
one time i opted to fill another crew's work truck entirely with popcorn. mm, wait.. that was a good idea.
i went to a city far, far away to be with some enchanting woman i'd met once. at a music festival. while i was in a committed relationship.
once i tried to come to terms with committment.
once i thought becoming a treeplanter was the answer to all life's problems.
i once thought it might be exceedingly funny to run over my leg with a snowmobile. queue broken bones.
another time i drank a 40 of malt liquor atop a raging pallet fire. crowning moment in my life, that one.
hmm. that piercing. and that one. and the other one.
i have all these wonderful, half-baked plans, and i love nothing more than to throw myself wholeheartedly into the abyss of uncertain, illogical, detrimental situations. especially if they bear any promise of pain. i'm a sucker for pain. i don't know why.
these, and many more, are reasons why i cannot begin to think of you, or anything involving you. it makes no sense. it certainly will not work. it will fall flatly and embarrassingly on its face, and so will we. i don't even like you. i am not romanticizing this. i am not romanticizing you. this is stupid. i have no desire to lie to myself. this is utterly hair-brained and ridiculous.
utterly. hair-brained.. and ridic..
oh dear.

slight lights.

2010-11-21T00:02:00.000-08:00

i've given up thinking that hope
is a streetlamp to light my heart

vague premonitions,
divided by night.

we exist in these slight lights,
we are moths in these revelries,
our worlds defined by an unsustainable glow
an indifferent illumination
positioned by some greater and malevolent hand.

things i am trying to forget.

2010-11-20T21:13:00.001-08:00

letter to an author.

2010-11-20T19:24:00.000-08:00

i had lost faith in literature
until i read what you wrote
and now i think i've lost faith in humanity.
still, your stark, stormy sentences
fill me with hope:
we are but stories
soon enough.

a new tide.

2010-11-20T18:25:00.000-08:00

the most peculiar part about living forever is that you don't actually live forever.

well, not physically, anyway. your body falls apart just the same as everyone else. most of the time, you will die before others your age. this hasn't happened yet, of course, but the part of you that does live forever already knows.

the strangest thing about living forever is that a part of you lives everything all at once. everything that ever was and ever will be, all at the same time as the rest of you lives a brief, bite-sized bit of existence called human life.

trust me. it gets confusing. the boundaries lose their crispness almost immediately, like dividing lines on a highway being erased by a snowstorm. sometimes you find yourself traveling in the wrong lane, wondering why all the traffic is flowing against you. being crashed into and spun around and around and around. these two lanes will never merge, and you the lonely traveler are left roaming down one, dragging your foot in the other.

sometimes i think the human part is a blessing. bodies consist of such small limits; pushing them to the brink clouds out the relentlessly everlasting demon in your brain. working your hands raw, drinking yourself stupid, drugging yourself into a stupor, fucking until you've become entirely, blissfully obsolete; there are a myriad of breaking points to be pushed. coerced. whispered to, kissed, and slapped across the face. oh, sweet, sweet deliverance.

but how short lived! and a habit that begins, sooner or later, to come out sideways. it cycles like the tides, coming to a foaming, spluttering, thrashing head before being sent slowly back whence it came. and then you're quietly living forever again. part of you, anyway. and it's ok again. for a while, anyway. like it always is. you look across the ocean from the windswept beach you stand on and don't have to wonder about what's on the other side. the past and the future both collide with the present moment, and nothing is a mystery, and everything is known. you skip a stone and don't have to watch to know that it will bounce thrice, and sink. you wander. and wait.

they say that eternal life belongs to those who live in the present, for eternity is not infinite temporal duration but timelessness. and yet, your whole life seems to be one boundless, eternal moment, whether or not you strive to live in it, or drown it out. your soul, meanwhile, lives far ahead, waiting for everything and everyone to catch up. and you, human you, nods and ushers it onward.

the most peculiar part about this timelessness is that one day it will simply cease to be.

this is the world's only immortal jellyfish.

.

briefly.

2010-11-19T18:56:00.000-08:00

i am enthralled by your taste.
the flavor of your skin, sweet, stinging. of your sex; of our sex, on both of our lips, your fingers. the taste of your sentences. as you speak i part my lips, slightly, just slightly. to capture your words and savor their tremulous resolve. rolling them on my tongue and they did off yours. your anger, your boredom, your disgusting melancholy: small sips seize me. i am startled by their intensity.
i am arrested by your taste.
your flesh cries out beneath my teeth, and i am gripped by an impulse to draw blood. to drink just a little of your metallic life.
yet the taste of your smile is perhaps the most unsettling. whether i've caught it out of the corner of my eye, a sudden, bright glimmer in the deeper fathoms of the ocean, or i am studying your face when you break into one, or i've kissed you in the midst of the turning of your lips: your smile tastes like nothing at all. your breath, a soft, sensual savor. your callous indifference, an acrid smack. but there is something too brief about your smile to register on my tongue. something about you lies unfinished.
so i am ensnared by the question of your taste.
a flicker, a flash. a siren song. the sharp rocks wait patiently, far below.

you will know us by the trail of mediocrity.

2010-11-19T15:36:00.000-08:00

a cat paws at the sliding door. windchimes. car tires through drowned streets, and somewhere, an interminable siren. fading. washing. rising.

i'm only sad they didn't find me sooner. all this time wasted. an expanse of hope, collapsed. every bit of destruction, creation, in vain.

and now i'm here. staring blankly out of the window of some mediocre house somewhere in an unremarkable city on an uninspired planet called earth. they tell me it could have been worse; i could have been killed. yeah, they said. yeah, you could be dead right now, you know. but i fail to see how that is any worse than a life of forced indifference. the rest of my days will be marked, first and foremost, by apathy. a vague feeling of ennui, yet just enough insouciance to make me casually dispassionate about doing anything for it. the only hope i've left is this letter. i must get this out. a word of warning! i must let the others know.

they caught me, and i wish they would have done it sooner. there were entire universes whirling from my fingertips by the time it all ended. models, patterns, paradigms; prototypes and archetypes and templates of old were smashing like glass bottles on concrete. i was rolling between my fingers things never before conceived, achingly beautiful and disgusting all at once.

and then..

ahh. whatever. i think i'll just go take some narcotics and float for a bit. i don't really care too much anyways. i sort of like this greyness.

but only sort of.

letter to dubstep.

2010-11-12T13:48:00.000-08:00

dear dubstep,

you ruined my life.

yours truly.

a dream.

2010-11-09T21:19:00.000-08:00

dear a.

i dreamed about you last night. about your broad smile gently wrinkling the corners of your eyes, about the way you look away from me when it does, and smile even more. i dreamed about the contours of your face, about the way your shirt lay against your torso, about your awkward sort of grace. i was so happy to see you. i awoke missing your inherent strength of character, as well as the strength of your body; angled, raw. i feel sad now; i regret not having sex with you that night. after so many wrong ones, i'm fairly certain you'd have finally been right. which i think we both knew. and which i think, now, i may have been more scared about than having you be wrong.

yours truly.

negative space

2010-11-09T16:08:00.000-08:00

these moments are everything. somewhere between falling and flight, my eyes are open and closed and i exist and have never been alive all at once. the continuity of an instant spread so thin by opposite forces is a drug like i have never known. my skin is alight, my veins race with an urgency reserved for the infinite instance right before an orgasm; your whole being pleading for release, yet crying out for it never to end. these moments are nothing.
there is no release at such a time.
there is no closure, no cessation, no folding.
everything you have known to be becomes inconsequential. your self is an abstract concept involving a great smile when you've been drinking and an affinity for substances which induce vomiting. time is irrelevant; although, when has it ever been of any real consequence? these moments are infinite questions, and they are answered over and over and over again with each and every asking. there is no wrong answer. there is no right answer. there is a suspended uncertainty, and its grasp consumes my soul.
and for every answer offered, poised on the brink of absolution, there is still no release. when the moment ceases to be, you are left shaken and hollow; confused, awkwardly sober. you are simply heavy once more, the weight of your being entwining once again with the gravity of earth.
which you may or may not have hit with your car at 80km/h upside down in a dark, wet ditch in the middle of the night.
so these moments stack up, out of focus, shivering.
i squint, adjust my glasses. clear my throat. yet they are no more defined, and i am no more certain of their enticement beyond their vague semblance of infinity. simultaneity. everything and nothing all in one beautiful burst. a perfect balance of contrast, so that nothing is, and nothing is not.
everything is a possibility, an occurrence, and impossibility. the freedom is astounding. somewhere, i am crying. or am i?

how dubstep ruined my life.

2010-11-07T20:46:00.000-08:00

alright, alright. dubstep didn't ruin my life. i ruined my life. but every epic failure needs an equally epic scapegoat, no? and i suppose i didn't really even ruin my life, at that. just hit rock bottom at a rather decent speed.. with my face. anyways.  it started with a little womp womp. a bit of wobble. some wah wah wah. before we knew it, a curse had taken hold. it was funny at first. we made jokes about trivial things, and they kept coming true. we joked about going on benders, being drunk for weeks, losing things, dropping things, breaking things, getting caught doing things, not doings things we should be doing. all of these jokes kept coming true. in response, we joked more. the feedback loop got thicker and thicker, threatening to spiral out of control.
we were driving in the car one day, the 5 of us, packed in there like detachable tentacles of some strange sea monster that fed on womp womp and sexual undertones. we were packed in the car, joking about drinking pussy crushers (which we really shouldn't have, because lo and behold, that night found us staring quizzically into the bottom of our drinks and wondering just how that had happened), and joking about breaking the car. we laughed. we shrugged. we made awkward gestures and turned up the dubstep. womp womp! wah womp wobble wobble wah womp! but the womp changed a little, began to sound a little less like music and a little more like part of the car.
"what's that noise?" someone said.
the song wobbled on; the driver smiled: "it's the dubstep!"
meanwhile: a flat tire.
we were driving in the car one day, the 5 of us, packed in there like we had every intention of crashing the bar and making out with each other all night long. the dubstep making our pupils vibrate. we were packed in the car, joking about getting pulled over, and the dubstep hiccuped and strange little sinister laugh at us. suddenly there were cop lights in the rear view mirror.
we were driving in my car one night, just the two of us. dubstep was playing for the first half of the bottle of whatever the hell we were drinking, but we changed it later. we changed it to lady gaga somewhere out on the winding dirt roads, perhaps sensing its glistening fangs just waiting to mar our existence. the wobble, however, had set in. it crouched, waiting. and then we started joking. we joked about crashing the car, and then blew round a 30 corner at somewhere near 80, and did just that.
how does lady gaga like her steak?..

ardent, and often unconscious.

2010-04-09T02:36:00.000-07:00

perhaps this is where we become dusty history volumes in a silent library.

in a baffling array of our rejections of love (a rather vast umbrella term encompassing so much more than anything we can begin to express), we are quickly rushing into an existence without meaning.
there are those of us searching for what we've somehow collectively lost along the way, trailing around with our feet in the sky and our head on the ground looking for trampled breadcrumbs and simplicity.
there are those of us who are lost, and completely caught up in an insular existence in which they believe they have found truth and meaning.
what we are grasping at, like a sleep numbed hand in the dark clawing for the light switch, is an understanding of love.
we are searching for love.
since you cannot find in another's eyes the light you do not have yourself, to love yourself, you must become love. and this is where we find ourselves, at the brink of some shameless moment, reaching for a secret fire, a blinding light.
this is where we stumble.
a gentle descent creases our greatness with the cost of goodness.
how does one (truly) love part of the terrible machine it has become?

they tell me there is a crack in everything, and that is where the light comes in.
i struggle desperately with this challenge, and wonder at mankind's desolate lack of love.

too late to live.

2009-12-21T22:26:00.000-08:00

we fought against everything when we were young. we rejected the preconceived notions that authority figures and media tried to spoon-feed us. we refused to accept stereotypes and social constraints and meaningless, hollow small talk. we rejected the typical nuclear family ideal, the breadwinning man, the bread-baking woman. we said no to resource exploitation and rampant global warming and mindless consumerism. we championed women's rights and racial equality, we built schools in poor countries, we rode bicycles.
we believed in freedom.
the thing about us now is that we WANT what they're selling. we want those cars, those clothes, that house, those kids. we want that paradigm, regardless of how many lies it comes with. we want security and peace of mind and comfort and, hell, if they're on the market, why not buy them?
now, we have business degrees and children. we are nuclear families. we are men, or women, and there is no grey area about our sexuality. we are womanizers and we are disconnected and we live in cities with jobs we don't particularly like. we aren't sure how it happened, or even that it really did. the change was gradual; a creeping defeat. we are silent, now. we are accepting. this is the revolution, grown up and washed out.
we used to believe in freedom.
not all of us have always wanted these things in this way. we were young and pleasantly angry most of the time, we were hashing out morals and values that dared to look outside the preconceived cookie-cutter molds we'd been handed the day we were born. we cared about the planet, about the people on it, about the things we did, and ate, and created. we cared about HOW things happened, or were produced, shipped, manufactured, sold. we cared about WHY things happened. we cared about smashing presuppositions and laughed at stereotypes and stagnant paradigms. we cared about equality and rights and health and peace.
we believed in freedom.
and in the blink of an eye, in less years than there are fingers on a hand, we went up in smoke. we stepped across the line without even realizing it. a slow, creeping lure. a subversive defeat. where have we all gone? we are not who we think we are. we have compromised and compromised and compromised. we have compromised, and we are no longer sane.
we've given up asking questions and cemented our favorite assumptions. we are solidly, unfortunately, amazingly ignorant. stagnant. oblivious. we are like statues, graven images of the life we used to be, and there is little room for anything else. there is little room for lives less holy, for people with their eyes open. we are lulled softly back to sleep, by the rocking of a city bus, by the blinking of neon lights, by a duvet of alcohol thrown over our prone and drooling brains.
i'm 21 years old and i feel like it's already too late to live.
we have forgotten about freedom.

edmonton.

2009-12-18T12:27:00.000-08:00

aeroplane.

2009-12-17T22:19:00.001-08:00

there is nothing of interest here.

fail.

2009-12-14T19:23:00.000-08:00

dear self.
must resolve to reconsider the merits of more thoroughly planning ahead. perhaps structure and commitment aren't so detrimental after all.
would most likely benefit from increased socialization. or at least learning to carry a conversation. social conventions (however unfortunately) do have a place.
also, do not lose wallet again while fighting drunk in the snow for shotgun. just don't.
and get a haircut.
yours truly.

growing old is getting old

2009-12-03T03:40:00.000-08:00

instead of doing anything productive, such as, perhaps, physiotherapy or school work, i keep reading all these articles and watching all these documentaries on evolution and the origins of life on earth. somewhat obsessively, i won't lie. i don't know why; i just can't stop. i'm morbidly fascinated with the pertinence of all this evidence to our future, collectively. i guess we just seem so doomed to failure, to destruction and extinction through our general ignorance, that i can't tear my mind away from it. like if i blink i might miss it; the burst of light marking the disappearance of life on Earth. such a trivial and insignificant explosion, i guess, given the scope of everything around us. but it's unsettling to think that we could just flicker out like that, and be gone forever. it's disconcerting to think that we won't have been intelligent enough to save ourselves from our own unenlightenment, our own rampant idiocy. it's sort of like watching a race car hurtle towards a brick wall at mach speed while the driver swigs at a gin bottle and drags on a cigarette with his unbuckled seatbelt flapping out the window. how can you tear your eyes away?

sometimes i feel like it's already happened. and it may as well have. if the evolutionary time scale of the earth were to be measured out on a piano's keys, the length of time humans have been around would only be the width of one piano STRING. so i stand in the middle of a throbbing, speeding city, listening to the cars and walk signals and aching traffic lights, watching life whip by as fast as it possibly can, and sometimes everything around me just disappears. i blink and all the buildings are gone, the vehicles and the billboards and the streams of droid-like people, gone. a jagged, brown landscape is left; nothing green grows. a warm breeze nudges papers about the ruins, and there is complete, ear-shattering silence. sometimes i blink and i am left in the chaos alone, wondering.. what next?

the other night i had one of those 'end-of-the-world' dreams. it started from the point of view of some large and omniscient sort of being watching the movement of planets and stars, and sort of waving a hand about to guide their happenings. they were dark against a darker background, with these slender, delicate, multicolored strings of light swirling around them. they were beautiful, just orbiting about, reacting to the forces around them, but then i whispered "supernova" with an outstretched hand and one of the stars exploded into millions of brightly colored strings that slowly wound their way around the other planets and stars in the vicinity. it was pretty sweet. except then it switched to me, the human being, down on earth, and it was turning into some sort of ice age and people were losing their shit and looting and pillaging and dying and i couldn't find anyone i knew, i was alone and struck by the pointlessness of struggling to continue. we were all just silly animals again, and without very many skills for survival in a world without concrete and online shopping, without any real understanding of the carefully balanced struggle that every other species is born into.

anyway, now my brain is stuck in 'millenia' time mode, and it's as if everything around me turns to dust as i see it, it's that transparently brief.
i'm having a hard time with this 'be-a-normal-person' thing. pretty sure i have an inherent 'freak' gene hardwired into my dna.