the right shades

Call.

2011-09-06T21:19:00.000-04:00

Backseat and conscious.
It's like a fight to stall. Act your age.
An ultimatum.

One.
His leg spasms as he sleeps with a crossword in his right hand.
Time is so self destructive
With no intent or motive.
Behind his eyes, he wonders; he dreams about the life he doesn't have.

He wakes and reality soon sets in.
Six letters across.
He got it.
One by one he fills the boxes with a guess until his eyes feel heavy once more.
What's the rush? He has all night.
He's already asleep.

Two.
A half-empty coffee sitting on my lap. It's hours old. The refreshingly cold wind fills the cabin and slowly, the somber looks of every passenger reminds me that winter is close. The evening train is nothing but sadness.
A funeral in transit.

Three.
Romance.
He writes her love letters. Smeared ink across the sheets and doodles to remind her he's real.
It isn't about hope, it's just about faith.
An invisible confidence possesses him to continue.
She doesn't understand why.
He was wrong to ever start.

Unanswered questions and unopened letters. He knows of nothing else. It's his routine that has spoiled their relationship.
He must.

Four.

scream

2011-07-10T11:53:00.000-04:00

And you walk around like you don't know me
I decided we weren't going to speak
So
Why be so mad? So hot and cold?
Remember the long nights fighting
Tossing and turning only to wake to your cries
Far along, too far along

We haven't talked
I couldn't look you in the eye
I wanted to pretend you didn't exist
You never came
But you did
And I let myself go

I wanted to be someone else
I wanted you to be someone else
Standing on the edge
You want me to jump
Coming with fires
Waiting
A gun in a pack of sandwiches
It's nothing

And then it was my turn
My tracks played, louder and louder
You couldn't hear me
Could you feel me?
Angry, upset
Raging

Only we could heal ourselves
We weren't there
Hooked on this or that
Lost in translation
45 minutes later, and that's how it goes
If you had to feel good
I had to hear myself

Scream

-2:52

2011-06-25T19:45:00.002-04:00

A night for vices.

There are nights when nothing seems quite right.
Then there are days when nothing could possibly go wrong.
Here I am. Somewhere in between all of it.
Where do I go from here?
I am ready, I just don't know where to begin.

I can see the sun setting.
Casting shadows in the corners of my life.
It always gets colder. I stick it out.
I wonder if it's just me or if really is you.
What's holding me back?

I'm afraid to walk away from what's comfortable.
The "comfortable" is anything but.
Turned backs, messages ignored, phones ringing for days.
There is a limit. We all have limits.
Pushed to mine, but what do I do?

Sit by candlelight. Waiting.
Tonight is a night for vices. Pushing back. Going further.
I didn't need you to tell me what was going on.
Take me to another time or I'll take myself.
Somebody else. I want somebody else.

the final sacrifice.

2011-06-11T13:32:00.000-04:00

At least these things can't go anywhere.
No hope. Don't want your shelter.
Nothing to keep me from this storm. Your storm. Your hurricane.
I'm going under.
Drinking under the table. Under the crowd with someone else. I know it's going to hurt.
Doesn't it always come as a surprise? To one of us, right?
Look over. Look right through.

Lean in for a kiss. Never felt this way before.
No words but yours. You were right. You determined the path and I was merely your servant.
You with someone else. Brace yourself. You didn't know my secrets. I made you think of your own.

Honesty for the night. It doesn't matter. It never does.
Baby steps and water works. She cries like she always does. How quickly she'll forget.
Stop spinning. Skip your steps. Stand up.
Offer up a reason, a word, something for her.
It's not enough.

Here I am.

2011-05-26T22:29:00.002-04:00

QWERTY.

Talk in the club. At the back of the room. Drinks.
You remind me of someone I know. knew. whatever.
Here comes the best part.
Shoulders back.
Arms swinging.
I know this song.
Some past life.
I came, you changed.
All the pressure you were applying.
In so few words.

Feeling just right. What do I say?
Thinking back there. Big picture, must focus.
Double the kick.
New to stunts.
Pulls, tracks, oil spills.
You can't make it better.
Nowhere to go.
It's alright.
Yep, it's alright.

You tell me what to say, and I will.
Well... it's dark in the city.
Lost with the stars in my eyes.
It's been a long time coming.
Change.
It's too hard beyond the sky.
Some kind of belief. That world. Your world.
No rhyme or reason.
Some sweet melody.
Where was I?

Back to the way to be.
Tell me. What was that first thing?
Tell me. Tell me all that I should do.
Say we danced like they don't know.
Beat the odds.
I got you.

2011-05-25T23:06:00.002-04:00

up.
so easily caught up.
a whirlwind.
stop, go. stop, go.
and now what?

so easily distracted.
be thoughtful
with how you use it.
can't focus.

so sorry.

down.
a moment to shine.
start the show
let's go.
i'm thinking.

i really love it.
it's so me
so i'm very confident.
no fragility.

so ready.

2011-05-16T21:13:00.004-04:00

give and take.
push and pull.
the bicycle on the street's side.
the ride home.
if it's okay with you...
...could I stay?

Either way, you're here.

breathing too tired
which one of us should take time?
that's what they say
show me the city
this moment, i claim.

Paper-cut fingers, or an alarm.

2011-05-14T22:40:00.003-04:00

Not authorized to share.

The cover's blown and nothing grows. Stripped to bone.
History, please let me go. Leave me be.
Eyes closed, bored with his kiss.
I'll sing my goodbyes.
The gesture's worth the while.
Don't forget to breathe.

Everybody knows that they're guilty.

There's no escaping when your whole philosophy is paper thin.
Could it be all of humanity? Picture that.
An invisible war. Making love with a whore.
Babylon a great history.
Our present condition.
What's going on?

heavy in your arms

2011-05-04T21:51:00.002-04:00

I didn't know what to say. I kept forgetting my words.
Coldest story ever told. Where do I begin?
True to her king. An investment. Well, what did that mean?
Permanent tattoos with a different side.

Well, yeah.
Specs for the drive. Packing bowls won't make it right.
Into the night, that's where I told him. On and on. and on. and on.
This was the final hour. I don't have forever.
So, when I say I'll do, I'll do.

Let me show you a place.
Crashing into desert sands. Shiny and new.
I won't stop spinning. It's yours to take.
Will it ever be enough?

It comes with a price.
Just throw your hands in the air. I just don't care.
Sometimes it seems the water's just too rough.
No matter what I do.
Maybe too much.

you read my mind

2011-04-29T23:15:00.000-04:00

Say that you're leaving
That feeling
Being
Left turn on Abbey Lane
This isn't anything new to me.

City sights. Lights.
Maybe I'm afraid
Amazed
You pulled me out
I really need ya.

Midnight dance
Start saving
Today
You'd understand
And so the chorus begins...

2011-04-26T08:11:00.004-04:00

Feelin' the blues.

I dressed like a modern day cowgirl to the office - brown leather, denim, plaid. Sure, I paired it with loafers, animal rings and some Asian-inspired shell earrings but nonetheless, a cowgirl.

Driving through rain, I wanted it to be foggy. I was too tired to look at the lights, the billboards or the papers but what choice do I have? Given three days of freedom, I am beyond myself.

Because nothing says music like rain and 3:30 a.m. wake ups, here:

The Grand Magnolias - American Dream
The Weeknd - High For This
Damian Marley - Pimpa's Paradise
Florence and the Machine - Drumming Song
Motion City Soundtrack - Indoor Living
Further Seems Forever - Snowbirds & Townies

so, tell me something new.

2011-04-25T20:34:00.002-04:00

through urban fields, right turns and left turns. just keep moving.

So they say there's a fork in the road. Some path that takes you to your dreams.
I'm on my way. Shoot down the skyline.
Don't save me from this okay?
Back to life.

Strange talk to have at 4 a.m. on the dance floor.
Go ahead and break the chain.
To feel what I wanted; that hold on me.
Climbing up the walls.
See ya winter.

back through the door.

2011-04-24T21:23:00.006-04:00

01

a one-hitter.
hiding behind the scenes.
curtain call.
now what?

there's a place between wanting it all and throwing yourself into the fire.
i don't want to go...
... but i will if you say it's okay.

02

naive or playful.
confident or confused.
sexy or scared.

it didn't feel the way i thought it would.
the more of you.
down the street, around the corner.
throwdown at about midnight. i'm always late.
convenience or something.
were you thinking?
... sorry, i wasn't.

03

okay or not.
three, five, eight.
did you jump the cracks in the sidewalk?
you remind me of the time... you know the one.
throwing twenties.
tequila.

04

the funniest stories.
that soundtrack, each time.
i don't play. or i play all day. i want to hear the real thing.

it's easy to forget the dream world.
do you remember the noises in the bathroom?
cigarettes. 40 flights of stairs.
a buzz.

05

yep.

06

life's such a movie.
a small compromise. big reward.
painting stories you'd never think about.
a new breath.
a weekend.

07

at 6:30 a.m. with a tall drink.
he lived for love. he read me like a book.
so i listened.
i know, i know.

where was i?

08

i can't think.
one thing -
just stand there.
a panic. the shakes.
who'd be down for that?

09
10

what's this?

2011-04-24T13:39:00.003-04:00

the family's loud.
everyone's talking easter eggs and bunnies. he's screaming about insurance rates and starting a business venture. he has no idea what the real world is like. he will never know.

the beat of the herd.
saving himself from himself. a battle no one will ever understand. no one wants to try. sandwiches and sandwiches. he's whispering words to himself. he's fighting with reason. my dad's scraping away the burns of his grilled cheese sandwich.

home.

042111

2011-04-21T08:47:00.003-04:00

an early morning for rnb. an early morning anything substantial.
sitting at a desk in an office of no more than 5 people.
construction, oatmeal and the usual, administrative phone calls. hello? hello?

i just wanted you to know. (i just wanted to know more)
i tried. (why did i have to?)
i never wanted to see you again. (did i mention that?)

you didn't ask the right questions. (you didn't bother to try)
you were wrong from the start. (i had to believe you were)
you were everything i wanted. (of course)

i'm looking for your number.
please don't pick up.
hello?

a/b

2011-04-19T17:57:00.002-04:00

I forgot I could exist like this.
Details, maps, pictures, ideas.
A place of significance.
This is the place.

He said I could build it.
Bigger, taller, deeper, wider.
He said it was all up to me.

--

Take it off. I want it all.
He knew what I was feeling. Fearing.
He didn't listen.
I didn't want to wait.

The buzz wore off.
A pack of sandwiches and a carton of smokes.
Nothing.

Don't be scared.

2011-04-18T21:57:00.002-04:00

I don't want to wear just anything.
I don't want to be just anyone.
What did you want from me?

14 seconds. I'll take it. (I'll take you.)
You know why you're here.
Close your eyes.

The scariest man alive. Come along.
I feel you.
I'll be good.

23

2011-02-05T13:52:00.000-05:00

Always in love but never together.
Open your eyes, open your eyes.
He smiles for you.
The signs are so clear.
Spoken words that never expressed the emotions deep in his chest.
All the songs he refused to play. Didn't matter. I never wanted to listen.

It's not you, it's her.

Face in you.

2011-02-05T13:50:00.001-05:00

Sometimes she's just a silly little girl.
Any other girl sitting along the sidewalk.
Rude face, white lace.
Pointing fingers a bit too late.

Almost perfect.
Making faces in the mirror.
Waiting with anticipation.
Life in the unknown.

It's satisfactory, I know.
Sad little girl crying for nothing.
Her name in lights. Asking for more.
I scream. Just let me.

Hours ago.

2010-11-26T21:47:00.001-05:00

It’s not about you. It’s about your words.
I never thought I’d take a second look. I took hundreds.
Unstoppable. Unbreakable. Unimaginable.
All those stupid words.

In small spaces in the middle of the night.
The square root of 69. I’ve been trying to work it out.
The only thing you have on is the radio.
Twenty minutes.

A lot is changing. Growing or something like that.
Music, lights, everything. The world spins.
Hush hush, under the rug.
Shh.

Sooner than later, the things you love challenge you.
And then there are all those things you had idea about.
Well… no time to waste.
Just do it. (I know).

call.

2010-11-23T19:27:00.000-05:00

Backseat and conscious.
It's a fight to stall. Act your age.

One.
His leg spasms as he sleeps with a crossword in his right hand.
Time is so self destructive.
With no intent or motive.
Behind his eyes, he wonders; he dreams about the life he doesn't have.

He wakes and reality soon sets in. Six letters across. He got it. One by one he fills the boxes with a guess until his eyes feel heavy once more. What's the rush? He has all night. He's already asleep.

Two.
A half-empty coffee sitting on my lap. It's hours old. The refreshingly cold wind fills the cabin and slowly, the somber looks of every passenger reminds me that winter is close. The evening train is nothing but sadness. A funeral in transit.

Three.
Romance. He writes her love letters. Smeared ink across the sheets and doodles to remind her he's real. It isn't about hope, it's just about faith. An invisible confidence possesses him to continue. She doesn't understand why. He was wrong to ever start.

Unanswered questions and unopened letters. He knows of nothing else. It's his routine that has spoiled their relationship. He must.

Four.
...

hearts.

2010-11-01T17:57:00.001-04:00

Lost all my direction.
Now I wish I would have believed all the words that undid my world.
Hearts will go in search of more.

Why light a fire when no one will be there?
Tell me the truth rather than seven ways around it.
Throw off your new shoes, burn off the soles.
Do something more than stand there.

Frustrated doesn't even begin to explain just how I feel. Pissed, exhausted, wasted.
How many tries does it take? Too many.
I can't keep waiting and now I really can't help but wonder why. Why not?

I hate you but maybe I just hate myself more.
Chained to the ones I love. You're not allowed in. Not anymore.
Cursed from the start. You were always trouble.
A deal gone wrong.

Cmon baby. Get a clue.

the camera's on

2010-10-25T23:41:00.004-04:00

Hyperextended. One left too many times.
Don't care what you do now.
Don't want to be spun around.

Something about horoscopes.
Make the blue sky blush.
I'm burned out on this rush.

The last of your worries.
Sonic flares, battleships and smores.
Dressed up in leather.

Every three seconds.
Tense fingers. I'm just too busy.
A bit conflicted; all red inside.

Hot blooded.

Running up that hill.

2010-10-24T01:07:00.000-04:00

Doesn't hurt me.
You want to know that it doesn't hurt me.
You and me. If I only could make a deal. We'd swap places. You'd run.

If I would do that.
You don't want to hurt me. Just see how deep the bullet lies.
There's a thunder in our hearts, baby. We both matter don't we?

We don't be unhappy.
Interludes always get me - a strange calm before the storm.
Let's exchange the experience.
No problem.

I want to. You could be someone else and I could just explode.
You asked. With a gun and a pack of sandwiches. It's nothing.
Nothing.

The last one.

2010-10-11T02:11:00.001-04:00

And when everything goes up in flames, who’s there?
I can’t tell you what it really is. I can only tell you what it feels like.
Uninhibited. Honest. Risky. What is there to lose? How much is there to gain?

You push and pull. Deal breakers. And you just stand there watching. It’s impossible not to worry. Maybe it’s the easiest façade in the world. Maybe it’s nothing but old patterns with new faces. Blinded and mistaken.

I get confused as to whether or not I want to let you in. You get me thinking. Your words are beautiful. I can’t help but be attracted, intrigued, turned on. I don’t want it to end. I don’t want to be hurt. But it’s no coincidence.

Baby. All I remember is thinking I wanted to be like them. I want nothing to do with it. It’s simple, really. It’s all about touch, but you know that. There’s water in the wires. Don’t hesitate right? I’m trying. Take time to explore me. Show it face to face.

You’re the last one.

Which?

2010-10-03T23:53:00.002-04:00

Your property.
If you see something, speak up.
Sometimes it feels like my hands are in the air.
It goes on no matter what I do.

You want to be one of them.
Well hey. Off on an adventure.
Where are you headed?

Knock down. Pull the fantasy in.
Feeling shot down.
Forever is a long time. What are you in the mood for today?
Happy?

Under. Really, I'm with you. Laid back.
Baby take it down. Tell them just like this.
The joy of repetition is really in you.
When you look this way, I really adore you.

Don't you let me go tonight. Go on.
The two-seater. Speak your piece.
You know it. Run through the moss. That's what I'll do.
Throw out the boomerang. And wait.

When I grow up, I want to live near the sea.
A penthouse suite. Staring at the lake, the townhomes, the parks.
What just happened? A home? A future?
Anticipating a change. Signing my name to it. A cheque.

It goes way back. It started from nothing.
Keeping the soil moist. A 10th day of rest.
Back on my feet. Calls for you.
This bed.

Monday, September 27.

2010-09-27T18:07:00.000-04:00

You may be waiting on some kind of news that seems to be taking its own sweet time in getting to you. You may even be anticipating the worst, and planning ahead for whatever might go wrong. But why stop there? Why not start making arrangements to deal with some massive disappointment? Why not alert your friends and family members that something unfortunate is about to happen? Hopefully you are beginning to see how ridiculous it is to go down that path. Stop worrying. No matter what you hear, the news will ultimately be good. Think positive.

soft morning light.

2010-09-27T18:05:00.000-04:00

The glamour of the underground.
I barely know. I can't succeed.
Frozen and paralyzed all winter.

A mask of lies that I feel none but guilty for.
Her feelings, her world.
His lust, his secret.

And only today, with a single word, is it over.
A break in the chain. A lack of conviction.
You marked the end.
No one will wait.

Without a trace of memories, tell me yours.
Look around. Search yourself.
Can I depend on you?

Fighting her own battles. She's the warrior.
Isn't it just getting old?
Maybe not. It's up to you.

And yet nothing.

Tomorrow.

2010-09-22T23:02:00.002-04:00

Every time you ask me, I say the same thing.
In short, I'm just not sure.
Is it this or is it that? What was a lie? Who said what?
It gets complicated. It is complicated.
Despite all that, there's something about you.
The world stops, spins, turns. For a minute but that's enough.
Between barriers and bars. I never really know how to go about it.
(Do you know? A hint would be nice.)

Dr. Evil on the phone at 3 a.m.

2010-09-10T08:03:00.000-04:00

Naked. Thursdays are long ones. Two hours in and I'm wondering what I've gotten myself into. Ipods in bed. The rumblings through the wall are too loud, too distracting. I can feel it in my mind. Change the world.

I am my own worst enemy, the greatest critic. A pat on the back might not always be so; nothing is ever perfect enough. Something similar to "how is today, today?" I'll tell you tomorrow night.

I'm most alive at night. My body filled with emotions. The accumulation of a day's activities, events, successes and failures. Sanity. Standing for the weekend. I couldn't help myself. Moving onward.

v.2

Facing you.

2010-07-29T08:33:00.001-04:00

Sometimes she's just a silly little girl.
Any other girl sitting along the sidewalk.
Rude face, white lace.
Pointing fingers a bit too late.

Almost perfect.
Making faces in the mirror.
Waiting with anticipation.
Life in the unknown.

It's satisfactory, I know.
Sad little girl. Crying for nothing.
Her name in lights. Asking for more.
I scream.

Just let me.

Facing you.

2010-07-29T08:33:00.000-04:00

Sometimes she's just a silly little girl.
Any other girl sitting along the sidewalk.
Rude face, white lace.
Pointing fingers a bit too late.

Almost perfect.
Making faces in the mirror.
Waiting with anticipation.
Life in the unknown.

It's satisfactory, I know.
Sad little girl. Crying for nothing.
Her name in lights. Asking for more.
I scream.

Just let me.

Packing up the weekend.

2010-06-29T08:36:00.000-04:00

Welcome to the imaginary seas, imaginary girl.
Stranded in the middle of the night and washed out to sea.
A dream.

Reinventing flaws and changing perspectives.
Giving you something to live for. Thank her.
Waves and waves.

Strangers and friends looking out to the world.
Pulling up, pushing down. Be strong.
A journey to go.

Battlefields are tipping the scale.
The weakest are weeping.
Don't cry, imaginary girl.

Some might get left behind. No rewind today.
Live on forever. Never say never. Be the go-getter.
Trust in measure. Don't be a begger. Feel relief.
It's just Tuesday.

step one.

2010-06-12T00:37:00.003-04:00

Taking photos. Capturing moments. Blah blah blah.
Well. When you get the chance to say the truth, why not?
This one is for you.

In slow motion, I'm still doing my thing.
Sneaking out to see the night.
I want to be as good as you are.
Five strings. Patience first.

In the dark, you can see it all.
With you, I'll always share.
In a room full of people and music too loud.
Tall shoes, tight clothes.
Celebrating.

Renewed.

2010-06-11T08:42:00.000-04:00

In the night, I hear him.
Whispering nothing.
Speaking to no one but himself.
Pacing. Back and forth between here and there.
Wasting away the minutes.

Get into it.

Bringing out a side of me that I don't know.
Don't be mad. Don't be scared.
I already know how this goes.
Packing a bag and grabbing the keys.
He doesn't know. I don't care.
Taking off into the night.

And then it's morning.

Friday.

2010-05-24T00:41:00.001-04:00

And so she said:
Sometimes you just don't make it.
There are the highs and the lows.
Maybe - just maybe - this'll be a high.

I'm applying for a job. I might not get it. I might. I think I will.
And then it hit me. As if reality had finally set in.
Am I too young?

It's easy to underestimate just what kind of drive a person may have.
Age doesn't reflect intelligence nor ability.
I honestly barely reach the requirements, however, I don't think that matters. Not here at least.

Attractive from the start. A few words to describe what it really is about.
I get it. I like it.

And then she continued:
Try me. If you say jump, I'll jump. If you say walk, I'm going to have to leave.
It's not the first time, but you won't wait for the second. I wouldn't.
Pretend and scream and sigh. It's the same story, just years apart.

Exit/Sortie.

2010-05-20T20:50:00.000-04:00

Drunk scribbles on the way home. Who could know any better? To the guy I don't know, I wish I did.

40 minutes from a bathroom. I'm counting every second. Three, two, one. The same thing far too many times.

Checking emails. Taking walks. Throwing fits and stashing drugs. I never wanted it more and I never wanted it less. I forget the day ends so early with very few regrets.

Hello's through a window. It's the closest I'll ever get. Toothpaste on the bathroom mirror. Whatever, or so and so she says.

Taking a bus to the 'burbs and every second feels so long. Maybe a drink or pitcher too many. Oh well. Too late.

Not too hard to function but feelings are loose and rearing to go. Hello? Can you hear me? Damn, I wish you could.

ceeps.

2010-05-09T01:01:00.000-04:00

I do my own thing.
I'll wander the block just because.
With earbuds in, stay in the moment.
I'll talk some shit and give the space more time.
I'll be fine.

It's May and snowflakes have fallen.
Hail, high winds, flying cows. So and so.
Transformations are beginning.
Tweet pic that shit? Not quite.

There's a song I always promised to hear.
And a book to read.
Crashing into desert sands.
I'll admit, this time so scared.
There's a a light there.

Wooden minds. These are my bones.
Polished hands and unfortunately rough words.
Late night drinks. Pretty thing.
And so now, what else?

It is what it is.

2010-04-30T11:40:00.001-04:00

I've refrained from ever writing something that could be so easily interpreted, but I couldn't hold back.
Today is the last day I'll ever be a student. I'm 99.9% positive that I'll never be in the presence of academia.
It's not that I hated it, but it's not who I am. Reading x theory from x book never appealed as much as talking to x people about their lives. Tangible experiences. Relative words.

In three hours, I will write my last exam. If excitement could be explained in something more than a dramatic typeface, I'd totally be doing that right now. I'm screaming, but you can't hear me. I'm not a real professional (quite yet) and I wasn't really when I was but something about salary, benefits and yes, even taxes is calling my name. There are only so many faux television premieres and corny matte stories that I can write. Now, I really want to see if this switch in professions was the best choice.

Okay. So I wasn't really a professional last year, but I worked hard to prove myself. I wanted to make a difference, make an impression and ultimately, set the pace for a new organization for the university I love so much. My time ended and with that, the career path I imagined changed. Public relations opened its doors and with the suggestions of colleagues, why not? Now, three days away from testing those waters, I'm more excited than afraid.

I've spent a lot of time in the past eight months wondering if PR was really my schtick. I felt as though I was compromising my passions to be here. I didn't see the same fire in others. I didn't see a fire at all. I recognize that I may spend quite a long time trying to find a job that really speaks to who I am and what skills I have. PR might be it. PR might not be it. Whatever it is, I'll find it and I've got a lifetime to figure that out.

For now, break out the champagne (the cheap kind) and get ready for a night of celebrations. This one chapter is over and if anything, congratulations.

It works every time.

2010-04-15T23:25:00.000-04:00

You never say hi. Don't you remember my name?

11 p.m. joints from a window sill. It's cooler than me.
Spiderman crunches. How awkward.
Making it work for you. Ooh ooh ooh.
Sing alongs on the subway.

Cruising in the suburbs.
You always get what you want.
West. Through the dirt roads, past the hills.
Preoccupied with being cool.

That's not what we do here.

The floors creaked.

2010-04-15T00:46:00.001-04:00

He stayed. She left.
Three hours later, the cat meowed.
Shit. Morning.

Never again.

And so he stared.

2010-04-15T00:44:00.000-04:00

Shh. Not tonight.

That's what she thought. That's what they both thought.
Cramped and curled, the morning was a few hours away.
She never expected to stay.

Vermillion.

2010-03-26T23:56:00.000-04:00

Read with this track playing.

Uh huh. Yes. That's fine.
Smiles. Nods.
Keep going.

The awkward pause makes it worse.
What did that mean?
Hello?
Not today.

Winter's back.
Songs are playing.
Bass.

Online identities.
Images, songs, words.
Click. Paste. Tab.
(side note: heh, Homer Simpson)

References to movies.
Cheetas. Tigers. Sharks.
Book bags. Bank notes.
Sign here.

Two hours.
Down, up. Down, up.
With this.

Cough, Spit, Repeat.

2010-03-26T23:35:00.001-04:00

I hate the delete button.
Write 100 words. Read.
No. Erase. Erase erase, delete delete.

Shaking in my boots.
I'm a big "life as chapters" sort of person.
One starts, dips, changes, evolves. End.
Next? I guess this is where the next part comes in.
The end of the year is always a funny thing.
This time, the light at the end is nice.

... Well, I anticipate that it will be nice.
It just has to happen.
I actually mean that I cannot wait for school to end.
School's out for the summer. Rah!
This year wasn't expected. Education? Again?
It tested me, literally.

I want to go back to independence.
A personal space that is more than my bedroom or my car.
Change of environments.
New people, new places, new things.
Less the errors.
By will alone, we set our minds in motion.

Blah blah blah.
I'll just avoid it while I can. For now, popcorn please.
Yes. Uh huh. Okay.
With enthusiasm.

Waistline of a business man.

2010-03-22T22:30:00.000-04:00

Spoken word on an incline.
Rihanna to Jason Mraz.
That guy from San Antonio.
Behind the glasses and facial hair.
Find a way, right? Right.
Flashing lights are typical.
She longed.

She missed her chance.
He blinked.

In aqua. Tattoos up to their shoulders, down to their knees.
Tasting disdain on his tongue.
Something’s already done.
Beads of sweat.
Untied laces on pacing feet.
In keeping secrets.

Four. She just wanted four.

The orchestra played.
She couldn’t find a seat. She never belonged.
The lost war.
Reckless. 349. 37:14.
Break her heart with ease.
Falling behind again.
Holding up just to pretend.
Sick of dirty games.

She put a face to the name.
Who was that anyway?
Shame.

That's Life.

2010-03-19T08:34:00.000-04:00

Half asleep.
Dozing off.
Can you hear me?

Okay. Taking two seconds to find myself again.
A heavy head, a specled mind. Tell me. Tell me something new.
I remember you from yesterday.
Obligations and lies robust.
Telling tales of colours, flavours and sounds.
A song blaring from my car windows on the first spring day.
Driving calmer, breathing deeper, living larger… or so.
Telling stories and hearing tales of peoples' adventures much more.
Go to bed. She said nothing more. Go to sleep. She felt it. Nothing more.
The scent.

The touch. The tease of a new life.
The cornerstone of sanity. The wall to reality.
Sensing more, playing less.

And that’s life.

12:14am

2010-03-08T07:38:00.001-05:00

It's so easy to get confused.
Early morning drives through the city.
Sun's beaming. I'm glad it's back.

Part 1.
Empty beers and nagging parents.
Honesty hasn't been rewarding.
Burning candles down.
Forego.

Part 2.
Two heads.
He was behind closed doors.
Whispering old stories. Point proven.
Swallowing pride is the common theme.

Part 3.
Silent nights and unavoidable glances.
Needles, really. What did it mean?
Weeks are long. Days are even longer.
1, 2, 30 or so.

Part 4.
A ride home was appreciated.
Yellow curtains, high ceilings.
I heard it under your breath, but don't worry.
Cheers to '94.

Part 5.
Chasing the j's.
Son, do you know what I'm stopping you for?
Riff raff. The tune is slower. Too slow.
So... Maybe.

12:14am

Hair.

2010-03-06T21:57:00.001-05:00

This long, the size of the pictures.
A whole room dedicated to this guy.
(That's irrelevant)
He didn't talk for a year.
He was brought food, maintenance.
What a year.

Lauryn Hill.
A guy who owns a loft.
It made me feel.
A cop out.
He was paid to be an artist.
Paid to be creative.
Impressive.
If I didn't find it out.
For the sake of it.

Look it up.

Sunny sides. Classroom lectures.

2010-03-03T14:55:00.000-05:00

Shiny leggings.
Black denim and boots.
Heart-stopping costume jewellery.

My nerves are high.
Strawberry frogs.
Ten minutes.

Pedestrian safety.
Watch out for the roads.
Red. Yellow. Green.

Weather is changing.
Spring is almost here?
The real world is close. Too close.

Columns.

2010-03-02T23:29:00.000-05:00

blue.
One day I'll figure it out.
The prince and the pauper.
She could smell the scent.
A sense of authenticity.

Does this mean my plan is working?
Day in and day out.
Whispering, hiding.
Closed.

Pacing back and forth.
This is the stomping ground.
90. 10. From you.
Dialing at 12:30am. School nights.
Attached to the pulse.

Say something aloud.
Sitting, waiting for nothing.
Standing, straightening up.
Okay. I'm ready.

black.
I just want to write in two columns.
I spent an absurd amount on a portfolio.
It needs to be perfect, or just close enough.
My parents sniff the leather. Professional, she says.

Counting the months til I see a new place.
A bedroom is not an apartment.
Privacy means more than a lock.
Cheetos or something.

Last night involved a lot of caesars.
Celery salt. Unexpected words.
I was caught off guard.
Pretend it never happened.
... Yah, about that.

Dr. Evil.

2010-02-25T21:49:00.000-05:00

v.2

Naked. Thursdays are long ones. Two hours in and I'm wondering what I've gotten myself into. Ipods in bed. The rumblings through the wall are too loud, too distracting. I can feel it in my mind. Change the world is what she said. I am my own worst enemy, the greatest critic. A pat on the back might not always be so; nothing is ever perfect enough. Something similar to "how is today, today?" I'll tell you tomorrow night.

Piles of to-do lists, lost pen caps and pyjamas across the room. My room is often a reflection of how I'm really feeling. No time for a clean up. Only halfway there. A Short term fix. Maybe tomorrow. Heavy eyes and all alone. Five years past and a future looming closely. My mind goes blank, I have no words. Terrified but hiding it well. I wonder why I'm not a good liar, though honesty is a trait few can master. An industry where style and skill go head-to-head.

Life is constant.

Reminding friends that we're human. I should remind myself. Intervals and scales. Crescendo. I look for the right spot to hear the music. I'm most alive at night. My body filled with emotions. The accumulation of a day's activities, events, successes and failures. Sanity. Standing for the weekend. I couldn't help myself. Moving onward. Not lost, just wandering. Life gathers in the chorus.

Short skirts and shades. The seasons change and the tables turn. What's in my future? A six-month prediction. Could it be late? Could it be now? I opened my eyes last night. I sneezed. It's just that glamorous. Tunnels all around. Running underground. Cold story.

Said maybe.

2010-02-23T22:56:00.001-05:00

I sometimes feel my ipod knows exactly how I feel. Every song is perfect. I used to always feel I need a muse - a source of inspiration - to be able to write. I think I've found one. Something that gets the words out. Something I didn't have before.

If only I could be so bold. It's how the story goes. Spiritual enlightenment at the gym? Maybe. Something about pride; strong and unified. Celebrate each minute before you press fast-forward.

Walks away under a silver moon, and I'm at ease. C'mon, take your place. 2kms. Juxtapose. An endless grey. A new kind of silence. A slip exposed beneath her dress. Silk. The way he liked it.

I want more.
Whatever he's selling.
Whatever you want to hear.

Chorus.

2010-02-23T01:33:00.000-05:00

For the birds and the bees.
Tell me about a few trends.
Feeling weird just like the weather.
I wouldn’t want to travel. Not right now.
Hip.

Highlights.
A playground in disguise.
I wish spring could come sooner.
Starry eyed.
Everybody.

What do you prefer?
Hardly accurate.
Tumblr in the early morning.
Running in time.
Try.

Tropics.

2010-01-17T22:55:00.000-05:00

Exotica. I used to heat a scented oil in my bedroom. I decided I might as well use it. It's funny how much a scent can remind you of life. Different people, different places. The scent of jagger reminds me of a bar, candles of a birthday, etc. I got a new cellphone this weekend. I have to say, salespeople really are important. Poor customer service? Not the right place for me. Telus was a great place to be. My brain turned to mush. Unfortunately, Kevin from Bell cut my bill in half. He referred to my bill as a cake. Although frustrating, the cake is pretty good. Thanks Kevin.

Last year, I had the opportunity to judge a battle of the bands. Thought it was one of the best events of the year. Air Marshal Landing. This scent reminds me of this band. Haphazardly dressed. Run the other way. Writing emails for friends. Busy thinking about the present, the future. It's coming up. Yikes. I forget how scary these experiences can be. This scent reminds me of my first attempt. The vending machine was loud, I had to go to the bathroom, but I got it. It ended up being the best thing. A turn of the pages.

Stay up the late. Test the waters. Push the limits.

Leonardo DiCaprio on a sandy beach.

2009-10-01T21:25:00.000-04:00

Seems like a cheesy night. My favourite candle is burning. It reminds me of sleeping on the floor and smoking joints. My cat's on the bed. I feel like him. I'm in a place that doesn't seem quite right but isn't quite so wrong. I want to close my eyes. I actually want to work out my calves. I'm just uncertain. I don't know if I'm in the right place. I haven't really found my footing. I wanted to make myself uncomfortable - push the boundaries, try something new, you know? I did and I don't know if it's really what I was looking for. Make the most of the opportunity but what I am really looking for?

Maybe I can pick up a tambourine and start somewhere else. One month in and I'm already pessimistic. I'm not, I promise. I'm just bitter or challenged or... I wish I could apologize to everyone I left behind. I wish I could say all the things I had always wanted to say. Grow a back bone or try something else. I'm not as weak as I seem. I'm more stubborn than I'd like to believe. I'm sorry. My hair is too long and thick. A $20 cut is on my agenda for tomorrow. Close behind, I'm holding his hand. Tunnels and lights. Subways and rights.

This candle smells of fresh linen. My laundry is clean. My dirty stuff is thrown all around the room. I can't decide what to wear. There are 3 blankets on my bed. The seasons have changed and I've doubled the amount of warmth on my bed. One more season and I'll live in a cocoon. These cold mornings are uncomfortable on my toes. My showers are longer and warmer. There is only so much soap I can lather. The morning radio show is always offensive. My calendar is out of date - shocking. I like to be organized. I like to know where I'm at... ironically. The posters of a bad I once liked are falling off my wall. No one cares but they add character.

I'm still finding my place in my parents' house. It is their house. My purple walls scream Western. There's a mustache on my desk lamp and a calendar of shoes above a desk that belonged to my grandfather. My nail polish is chipping. I'm over it. I paid another credit card bill. This is what it means to be independent huh? I'd rather braid my hair than think about textbooks. I'd rather pack bowls than drink coffee just to stay alert. I'd switch roles with the cat - I can meow and if I have to, I'll lick myself. Radiohead tonight. Business attire tomorrow. That's life.

Interpretive dance of social media.

2009-09-10T09:43:00.001-04:00

So, it's been a week of class and yesterday was the first day that I started to piece together my questions about why I was going into PR - or if I was going there at all. Everyday I doubt myself and whether or not I'm in the right place or as qualified as those around me. I know, it shouldn't matter but when you're in the "best program in Canada" and you're surrounded by people who will inevitably have the best jobs in the world, you can't help but wonder how you size up.

Yesterday, I told the class I had a blog. A blog is just a blog - a really long status update about something in my life or something I've thought about. Now, blogs have to be more than that. An intellectual mouthwash of ideas, links, interrobangs and tags. We talked about social media and the effects it has had on an ever-changing society. Something about watching Missy Elliot at 2:15pm during class really inspires me. I started to realize the power of the internet and the idea that it is a collaborative effort - those who are attracted will participate and there will be a response. Granted, you're probably reading this and thinking, "I'm not going to respond" but that's the joy of it. What I like about the internet (or "social media" since this is a "blog" of sorts) is that I don't need your response or to know that someone somewhere is reading this; I like that the internet is created in such a way that everyone (in some respects) has the opportunity to participate and if they so choose, it is their choice to publish and distribute their thoughts into this media ocean.

Contributions into a pool of ideas need not always been scholarly or even accurate - who said LOLCATS was ever accurate? My cat definitely doesn't want a cheezburger. The internet just allows us all to add a little extra spice to a bigger pool. A blog is a snapshot of my thoughts about one particular moment in time, no big whoop...

.... anyway, enough chit-chat, I'm late for the carpool.

Pipes.

2009-08-03T00:58:00.000-04:00

I finally did it. I made my second attempt to move into my bedroom. I've been at my parents' house for at least a month and a half. In that time, I moved in some clothing (which took long, sweltering days), painted the hideous pink walls and now, weeks later, I've finally unpacked more boxes and moved out the souvenirs of my childhood. I unpacked a box that I haven't touched in years.

I never knew I had so many picture frames of pictures I hardly remember. I kept all of them and packed them into an envelope under my bed. Maybe in a few years I'll open it again and have the same thoughts I did. It's weird. My walls are blank; I'm still finding my own in this room. Five years later, I'm back and it's different. My parents seem to feel the same way. I'm making room in the fridge and all their cupboards, and the freezer and closets and driveway. There are piles of old magazines piling up. My dad knows I always rifle through the newspapers to grab all the "entertainment." I'm chasing Common through the house instead of doing something productive, but when I am working, they're feeding Common treats under the kitchen table and treating him like the third child.

My car is sitting in the garage, untouched for days because I'm using my dad's Corolla instead. His seat is always pulled so close to the steering wheel and he has two cushions to ease the ride. It reminds my best friend of high school - yikes. I'm always so shocked that I am actually here. One year away. There's a light at the end of this tunnel, and it looks like a condo or townhouse of my own. One year. 12 months. 365 days. You'd think I was actually counting the days, but I haven't put my calendar (of shoes) up yet. Even my diploma's getting dusty, but at least my bed is a queen and I'm finally feeling the joys of rolling at night. I asked my mom if she'd ever let me have a guy over. She didn't have to say anything for me to know I might've revealed something - also yikes.

I think we're all adjusting well considering who we are. My dad is being naive and it's better that way. He unloaded a 24 and unpacked some vodka and wine. He's realizing that I drink, and oddly, he's telling me of all the times he partied with Jack Daniels. I steadily hide all my secrets in the corners of my closet, though I'm sharing them with my brother because I know he'll support the cause. There's a cat in the house and that alone means they've caved. I think I secretly like it too. Free groceries, free laundry, a sweet bed, a cat crawling all over my computer ($%!, so cute), a curfew (I know...), nagging about going out or the dangers of the city at night, chinese singing on Sundays. The cat just winked at me.

A bit like a caged animal and of course, I'm wondering if I did all I could do while on my own. I think the only thing I didn't do was join the circus or win the lottery. I hate that I share a wall with my parents' room. It's 1:26am and they're still talking. Mumbling. I've been having the most vivid dreams at night. I blame my summer unemployment. God I love this bed. Of all things I would've changed, it would have been my single bed. The poor thing was just enough, sometimes too cozy for comfort and now it's sitting in a landfill with the tube lighting and broken dresser drawers. I like to play Sam Sparro at night, well nights like these. The summer has barely come so the nights are cool. I have the craving for a good party, or a (un)memorable night out in onesies and tall heels. My toes are craving the excitement of expensive heels.

1911

2009-05-19T10:00:00.000-04:00

Strip my mind. Out senses, they're complex. Yah, eccentrically. Theturn, boys' turn. Rivers setting me free. Smoke rising. Okay, so what again? It's just about anything in the artist. Click it. Just once. Shit.

Scrolling, typing, trying to fight the right place. Papers and pens and colours and all the things you miss as a working adult. Painted nails, bright suns, long distances. The most beautiful literature in the world. A review.

Pass that dutch. That's what the song said. Montreal clubs. Crowd surfing. Bed time. Empty spaces make a difference. The history channel, and cabs all over the country. Cereal and chocolate milk, and now I feel at home. He sold me on Mexico.

Mango drinks. The timing and structure. Did you hear the story? I'm telling you my darkest secrets when everyone's gone, and this is me growing up. The warrior's code depicts the greatest wonders and the blueprint for this life. Everyone sees one, but they don't know what's going on. Far behind the clouds and construction.

Everything can only be so easy, between you and me. This time we've got a first class motive. I don't think i could stop, and you could slow me down. I would never give you that pleasure. Can you promise to keep me from getting old? You're invited to the anniversary. i wrote the notes.

We might never know, but when we take it outside, we can make another scene. I'd like to keep you. For communication, and for the sake of us. no one else could do that for me. Wash my hands in soap and water. We might never know but this time, I wrote it. I would never excuse you for the ashes.

That night was me and the moon. A packed car, juice in cups, and friends on a ride. The soundtrack to a downtown drive, under and over. my back on the wall, now you can see. 119 kms away.

Would he like it more better?

2009-05-18T13:45:00.000-04:00

There would be a cottage scene. Hip hop. You’ve made it big. Breaded chicken & schnitzel. Every other day he goes, what an incredible day. Coming from the same place – a full circle and remember it every way we go. Flashing street lights, urban legends and myths. “What are you doing about the potatoes?” Left turns, right turns. Platinum cards and the West Coast – get ready for deeper suns.

The wind is chilling on my toes, the garbage bin keeps filling with the junk of 14 people. Empty boxes and bottles, condiments galore. More lunch meat, more lunch meat. Wiping your feet at the door, can you smell that? Love them, they keep me young. Two weeks left, I’m congested with words and emotions. She’s insane. Dre.

Red wine, white wine. I don’t know how to say it all, or anything at all. We’re in good shape, we’re acting twofold. Disconnected from the virtual world, nothing but time and sun on my side. Def’n. Two. Dark roads, cemeteries and all this creepy shit. What’s your name? What your time? I’ve got to ask you what your interests are. Are you going to be here for a while?

It’s surreal. Stupendous. Dropping o’s. A fool’s treasure. She’s making assumptions. The smell and the taste just isn’t the same. The sun’s setting and her discussions are only making me smirk. I want to count to ten. 1 2 3.
Yeah, that’s the one. This is the place, the one you’d never remember. You pointed fingers and you questioned her. 4 5 6. I’m floating, cloud 7 8 9. How would I know? Someone let a bug in and the music’s too quiet. It’s trippy, it’s easily to much. 10.

7:27pm.
Tuesday May 12, 2009.

How could you be so Dr. Evil?

2009-05-18T13:01:00.000-04:00

Your forehead looks like a butt holding credit cards when you frown.

After all the things we've been through. I did some things. The old me. I'll walk around like I don't know you, but why? It's all about pride and you have too much. Wait a couple months; everyone seems to change their minds after sitting on it. I won't be here to listen but figure it out anyway. A deep cleanse.

Talk and talk and talk and talk. They don't know what we've been through. I've got something new to see. We're just going to be enemies. That's fine, I suppose. I had a dream last night. Yah, I know there are some things you haven't told me. Self-doubt. A transitional phase. I want to go to a show, sit in the back and listen to you play your songs. Let me hear your cover songs. Slouchy hats, keyboards and guitars. Winter and snow. Try to bring me further down. After it all, forgive me.

An hour before the car is packed and the road burns. What was I ever waiting for? One by one, looking back, I wouldn't know what to do. I wouldn't fight for you. We will grow. Intervals. Call me.

Confessional. abc.

2009-05-16T02:19:00.001-04:00

At 2am, I always think about what I should have said, or what I could have done differently. I could replay the same memory over and over again -- realistically, I'm just saying I was stupid. Where is the gate keeper?

a.
I grind my teeth in my sleep. Stress or something like that. I have a mouthguard, but it doesn't do much sitting in its bright yellow container. (Yellow, how fitting). Sleep is sexy. Some seductive time with yourself, but technically, everyone else in the same time zone. I got your message tonight. Sorry.

b.
It happens every time. I can't help but close my eyes and slowly prepare for the inevitable. Bedtime. An empty palette is finally ready and now that it is, I have no inspiration. The worst part about a lull is finding a muse -- what is it? who is it? anything, please.

c.
So, I've been thinking about you. Maybe I'm bored, or maybe it's just the weather. I need to learn to swim. I need to track the changes, count the buttons and start trimming. Two weeks. Living like a squatter; boxes, suitcases and wrinkles in all my clothes. Damn. Lonely, honey.

Feist.

1am drunk.

2009-05-15T01:09:00.001-04:00

The most important criterion was external beauty.

It makes you confident and attractive. Okay, that’s what the article said. Up or down, right or left… what the hell was I supposed to know? Whenever you look at me, I wish I was her. Uh oh oh. Just for you. Even in the day. A man fantasizes that kung fu lives deep inside him somewhere. Before you say a word, he makes you. The more I do, the crazier I turn into. Blues, pacing floors, 1:08am. Hoping you’ll walk through.
Two. The list of men. For you, because there is a story. Blanks, dots, lines, whatever the fuck they are these days. I’m right under your feet. I’m ready to turn weak for you. Beaten and chosen. Forever excuses, giving into my dependence. Which time? You said my name.
Anyway, calm down. Be gentle, or at least gentler. Feel my heart, it begins to beat, so desperately. Instead I’ll fall back to my knees. Right through me. I’ll forgive you, once again. Burn it. I hear your words, as if there would be an us. To be the only one in love. Why do you steal it? Standing my own ground.

Feel It up. Leave me there.

Whoa.

1:12am.
Tidy up my head. I’m the only one.

1am drunk.

2009-05-15T01:09:00.000-04:00

You said what?

2009-04-28T21:23:00.001-04:00

Ice cream cake and fake licorice. I realized that I'm months behind on updating the online world with photos of flipping cups and drunks. I packed my 5 years up this weekend. Everyone's been saying it. My bedroom floor is littered in half-packed bags, half rolled joints and whatever is left of my wardrobe. I'm not sad about my goodbyes, I've said a lot alrdy and for the ones I miss most, they alrdy know who they are and I still hate them for leaving me behind. I spent the year without my favourites and made new ones along the way, but that never meant I stopped thinking about them. I want to say I make the best decisions all the time, and that going with my gut was right. Why would I ever go with my gut?

My garbage can is full and this single mattress looks the same as ever, even thrown across the floor. I needed time away. I hate that my phone vibrates twice; I got it the first time... I was ignoring it on purpose. I hate seeing your name in my phonebook. I know, it was my fault. La de dah. I haven't checked my voicemail in days. It's okay, you can be honest. I got drunk and wasted money on a magazine I don't care to read (actually, there are three). _ _ _ _!

The mini-skirt is all I want to know. Burn your bras for comfort and scrap the ideas of socks, I hate socks. Summer's about to breathe down my neck and I'm inches from wrapping myself in summer dresses. I'll miss comforters and warm snuggly things but bring on the challenge of looking beautiful while sweating. Give me frozen treats and cruising with music you'll judge me for. Fish and chips, is that wrong? I'll miss your chicken fingers and your makeshift attitude. Fuck, I love my bed.

I give up.

Whatever, it's midnight.

2009-04-22T23:11:00.000-04:00

a. Press rewind god damnit.
I did everything in my power to avoid packing today. There are still 15 boxes in my hallway and boxes all over my bedroom floor - all empty. I wanted to change my profile picture on MSN. Surprise, some really old pictures in the list. I remember all those days - who was that? Turn up the bass. I apologize for the loud music. Turn the dial.

b. I had a farewell party. Bye.
I just wanted to drink - flip cup. Genius. Pack up the memories, wipe the beer from the floor. No more. My bed is still in shambles, how will I even tackle this? Things... I'm listening to the best mix of music right now. One step at a time, but fuck, I'll just run them. Take it to the next level - 1, 2, 10. Fortunate.

c. At the magazine stand.
It's not about sex, it really isn't. It's not even about the traditions. Anyway, I just wanted some post-bathroom reads. It's a big ploy. You've got the swagger of a champion. That's just who you are, baby. See you at the bar.

d. The fancy stuff.
Do backflips. Wear whatever the fuck you want. Jump in head first. Destination unknown. Is she in the bathroom, or is she smoking up outside? You know just what she likes. Track 15. You're begging. Crescendo. I've seen enough. Telephone rings.

Okay. Dusty pictures and even dutiest memories. I forgot all about the dress or the drinks. Why count the tokes? Why not party everyday? Bedtime stories, they needed a Chuck Norris. Something climatic. Fuck the image. Build something tonight. Everyone needs a night where you lose yourself, you are the bass line. The walls come alive, and it's anything you like. Control it. Sipping just a little too slow for me. Built you up.

Mixed messages and left-over snacks. Take the driver seat. Snap out of it, and just listen to the music. N-n-n-notorious!

Salvatore.

2009-04-11T01:38:00.000-04:00

I knew what you were looking for before I asked. My favourite in reverse. I keep my favourite notes locked in my phone; sex in the studio. Love to say goodbye. At 1:49am, I don't know where the night went. Tonight everything feels the same.

Talbot & Kent
For all the days and all the nights, I knew 24 hrs weren't enough. 12 hours spent sleeping and 4 huddled over the smallest crevice in the room. did you count the cracks or was that my job? Looking back, I'm ready to do that great thing I had only ever heard about. The numbing discussions about this business didn't make sense until now, and I can only believe that you're the wisest.

Fourteen stars among the rails and tainted memories across the floor. I was never right, and I was seemingly always wrong. A student among the teachers and running shoes still in the box, where were you when it mattered? When was it time to say congratulations, or goodbye, or thank you?

Tonight is the longest, a drive home and two pit stops. The directions never included your stops but I figured it out anyway. I ran the miles and played the songs, but someday that'll mean something. All those stupid nothings and lighthearted jokes. Back to the homeland.

Continuous Happiness
You know I always imagined something more. With the right frames, this could really work. What a great day to spend indoors, wait. 100 lbs and my legs start to quiver. Burning the fat and relieving the tension. This is my time, where the focus is one. 14:59. It's almost over.

So where has all the day gone? And why are my lungs aching when I breathe? Is there something wrong? My heart feels safe and it just hurts when I speak. This is not what I called for. 13 months and 12 to go. This is my place and I'm allowed to be proud of myself. Did you ever believe it could happen? No, of course not.

Every song is yours, this is your soundtrack and I don't want it. My song is differently tuned.

AML.

One two three go!

2009-02-16T23:37:00.001-05:00

A secret from me to you, okay? There are just some men who are wickedly amazing. Chef Ramsey for example, what a wicked man and would I ever just eeee. He's the type of character that leaves me breathless. I'm watching The Bachelor and some of these scenes are too much for television! It helps that this season's bachelor is this cute guy who's also awesome. It's too much.

Tequila rose tonight. Amaretto in the masses. I got some croissants (a great deal!) and they're full of yummy carbs. Kiss and tell. I would never be able to. Blood pouring through your veins, it's the most incredible experience ever. Some kind of glimmer - something like the truth. Just suck it up and do it. This show is ridiculous and my drink still hasn't been sipped. Answer every single one with complete honesty. Okay, question one.

One. Two. Three. Seven. Seven. SEVEN. 7. Seven

We went to a very oddly authentic chinese restaurant tonight - it was amazing! I loved everything about it from the techniques of the servers to the traditional tastes to the chinese scripture. I wanted to get a picture of all of us outside the place so Brian asked this man to take the photo... let's just say I'll have to wait to see it exposed before I can really know. He took the photo on this awkward angel, was hardly looking through the little tiny hole; but it may just be the best photo ever. The rest of china town was closing and quasi creepy. The holiday inn had some great novelties. The metro station was amazingly neon. Mtrl is wicked.. just wicked!

What? Shop class for $100 dates.

2009-01-05T22:51:00.000-05:00

Chicken noodle soup and a coffee. Where are you going? Right now? He'll be alone, but that's okay. Earn bonus rewards. I have this gut feeling I should say something about this hideous shirt. (Backspace, backspace - I don't ever know what to say, I always feel like it's completely revealing yourself, like a public bathroom). On the first new day, there's this collateral. I played a game about cakes and stores; soulja boy. There's this tv show, about cakes on the Food Network. It's the most incredible show ever, and it's 11pm. (Oh, that's it? There's this stream of voices behind my head. They're arguing about small genitals and plaid shirts. Why are we wearing these damn shirts?) There's this other good-looking man; Apple-Bottom jeans, boots with the fur.

He's drinking the Chicken noodle.
This damn cat is always going at it. He loves licking his face and winking his left eye. He's notorious for dipping his baby cat face into cups and bowls. He's a spider-cat at 10pm and knows his name is Common.

I can name 10 things I hate about each of you.
You never take your turn. Then he asks about himself - his grey hair. I can't laugh at these jokes, no way jose. I feel like I'm deflating and now, the best thing for a Monday night, 10 Things I Hate About You. Andrew Keegan - yep, but no I never liked him as a kid (I could never be one of those girls).

Joking with the lunch lady - Bratwurst and green ice cream.
He likes Hustler-like stories. It's Goldberg. Five feet away and no response. Designer jeans and socks. Hula-hoops. After-school detention with that lady from The West Wing. Alright, so he asks about those types of girls. You know, those girls that really jab you where it hurts. He loves them. Polka-dot binders and barrettes - oh, ah overanalyzed teenage love. He'll speak it.

Last month's Cosmo: I got so nervous because it was the last one to come. Close, but no. Mango marmalade! I remember high school gossip and peer tutoring (I needed a math tutor, and ironically, was a math tutor). It's his first date and he's really too eager. So, I went to the movies the other night (I seldomly go to the movies) and saw Seven Pounds. I was crying for hours - everything but the beak and feet. She's a unique character and tonight, my fenders aren't ripping me into a verbal frenzy. She's not afraid of him, but of course she's thought about him naked. KCi & Jojo - oopsies.

The voiceover.

2008-12-23T19:19:00.001-05:00

Swanky parties and red dresses. There's a song that is never played, and a dress that I can only wear once. It's been a long time. A long drive to the escarpment to hear the trains coming, and your feet in the distance. I haven't felt the wind, and I don't know. I never admitted to having the answer and I never asked you to believe what I did tell you. I didn't make excuses - what makes a man?

I'm due for a haircut. I read the news today. Everybody knows that they're guilty - everyone knows when they lie. Resting on your conscience. Semi-formals, complimentary beverages and an unspoken promise that midnight is the time (or whenever the clock strikes). Dominant wisdom; the majority rules. I chose the tail. Closed doors and severing me from all that used to be. Hungry and thirsty.

It's something isn't it? A blindfold and curious smiles. She always knew and he never told. Torn jeans and shoes too dirty for the public; what was I to do? The songs that I could never play again and the words that I wish I never heard. It isn't that story (the same story as always), but this time, it's not about that. It's about everything in between. It's about... well, that's my story.

An expensive cab ride and the keys I'll never forget. A red phone on the side of a diner is the site of it all, and a call that inspired a 45-minute wait in a line that was nothing more than 75 cents. I took my thumb off the concrete and gathered my strength to run from you. It wasn't quite what it seemed. The flashing lights and the dramatic entrance. I remember the car ride and the awkward beginnings. Your music collection sucked, but one song was all I needed. Your house smelt of microwaved chicken and your fingers were covered in grease. Your sister was coming home and it was a rush to leave - you took out the garbage anyway. I don't think it was the way you wanted it to be. It would never be that good again.

The only thing I'll ask of you is to stop when I say when. Take the photos and capture the moments. The kitchen counter and a locked front door. Dim lighting and cracked windows. You sang. Bathroom flings and broken hinges - tell me, who am I supposed to be? I know what I'm supposed to do, I know what I want to do. Cold fingers and even colder toes. Immortal Technique.

Rolled blunts and guarded walls. A hidden package and calls on the ice. Meet me at a quarter to three. Count my findings and give me the cash; never face the consequences, there is always another chance. Burning in a melting pot. A no good deed that colours the world and lasts a lifetime.

10 days to wait.

Take it to Los Angeles.

2008-08-14T13:30:00.001-04:00

Telling myself all the secrets and hoping for the best is the hardest part. Don't let it dry out - that's not part of the game. Wear orange, wear jade, wear shades of blue and be proud of it. It's a strange day, today. Suffocated by the surrounding, drowning in soul. I should prioritize and I should arrange my day accordingly, but right now, no. I'm at a standstill - and perhaps far too often. Am I afraid? Sometimes. Am I ready? More than ever, so let's do this.

Yah, turn off the lights and pack your overnight bag. Keeping a life in the back of a car - the "just in case" was all too comforting. I've gone away and I flew myself away. I changed my name and changed the scriptures I wrote for you. Throwing away old papers and writing new songs, I can barely remember how I found you.

A million miles away with the chance to do it all again, I don't think I would. Tied to a memory of eagles' eyes. I can't be everywhere but with the greatest escape, I don't want to be there. You won't find me. Purples, pinks and yellows. Let me ask you, let me play some music in the background. It would be easier. I would trust you. if you earned it.

Striking notes that don't match. What happened? It's the hardest.

Under a moon and in between stars.

2008-08-10T00:57:00.001-04:00

It's funny that late at night (or early in the morning), I am most awake and most aware. I always write about the same things - music, late night thoughts and maybe an old memory or two. It's raining tonight, it doesn't mean anything except that it's cooler and the air is finally clear. The night looks different in the rain; the night looks different when you learn that you should've known better. You live and you learn - and why settle for what's wrong? It's a wonder. Confidence, can you buy it? After each, there's always something better.

Check this out. Smell these scents and maybe read that last article. Are you content with this world? The clock's are ticking and I have all day to feel exactly this way. I can barely remember the details of all the numbers on the tally. It doesn't really matter. I had a great shower tonight, did some chores and was an overall good person. Ideal day, huh. Strum a couple strings before bed, and read me this cool bedtime story. You know, something about celebrities or the latest trends. Show me some shoes, and hide the price tags for my viewing pleasure. Just like the movies, just for tonight.

For you, I'd do anything but on tonight's playlist, you're not included. I said the word, and there goes the world. Start. Seeds. Just like old times, the numbers roll and the heads turn. Your name, written here on this dotted line. Leave it for the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that. Your laundry's still wet and I'm sorry. Let's start playing games in this complicated world - I'd change the ways and change the minds but the bags are packed and we're off. Burning in the morning and stretching at the crack of dawn. I'm trying to get my money and a truck at 1am reminds me to switch sides. The B sides.

This is the song of the morning. The midday sun and the fresh box of milk in the fridge. Come down, and waste away. Will you think it's just as cool? Sing with me. Good night, good morning, good whatever-you-want. Italics on the important stuff, and plain text for all you who can't understand this. Hold it. Read it over. Again. Again. Again. Out of my head, I sang all the words and I painted the perfect pictures. Now all I need are the perfect players to fit the roles, to perform the right moves and to shorten the breakdown thing. Live clips, a band at its finest. Do it in the dark, sing along. Hide the keys and throw away the cars. Something like that, good night for now.

Live sets are better.

2008-08-06T23:52:00.000-04:00

I'll see you on the other side when it feels right. Check the time, is it ready?

So, another day, another time. I remember the old mixtapes, and all my favourites. They're dusty now. Garages, dirty bathrooms and young crowds - indier than thou, didn't you hear? You could always find your way in. That's what I did. Cool cool young kids. Forget it, it actually sucked. Music isn't the same.

Pop culture. I should identify. I should lead a pack, or as we learned from many famous people, get ahead by doing something great. Thank you. (How the hell do I accomplish that?!) One, two, one, two. I remember the old times, we'd throw down on a beach with late nights, acoustic sets and friends as great company. The alcove looked over the secrets - we'll go back sooner or later. Paradise. Reminds me of The Beach and yes, I am referring to the Leo DiCaprio movie.

So, hey there delilah. I've been reading through some old emails just trying to find some basics and here I am finding much more than I ever desired. Years, years have passed and nothing is the same. Who were you then? Nevermind, who was I then? Who am I now? No, just kidding. Those aren't the right questions - I'm not asking any now. 30 minutes to coast, an hour to get the hang of things. I'll do it... (that's what she said).

Giggles and laughs over the dumbest of jokes. No, don't update my iTunes. All this technology and still, the activities are the same and the late nights are always the best. Crack the window, watch a movie, read a book, do something. 1000 miles feels pretty far, huh? We'll all laugh along and I'll know exactly what it is, and where it could be. It won't be the same and no one wanted it that way. Two more years and it's history. Acronyms, apostrophes and semi-colons. Cheers.

A few head tosses and some sly remarks. The song is always good and the dance moves are even better. Who cares? I know you don't. Stay on your feet, embrace it. Raise your arms - remember this song? Drop everything!

The fall of a tragic hero.

2008-07-07T02:50:00.000-04:00

You know the moment. The kind of second that lasts forever. The eyes are never the same, the lips are tainted and you're lost. So, what do you do? Whatever you can, right? The nights I know, I hope it'll be okay for you. Sneezes in the room, experiences I'll never share. The dreams I'll have and the time you took.

So I stopped and thought it would be something you'd want to know. Step back, are you okay? You've got alot of time, yah, but don't waste it on the things that'll never matter. The missed days, and the reoccuring nights. It'll slow you down. I remember that first day, and I'm so glad to see the last day. Seeing the sun for the first time, in all new forms. It takes it. It's just something.

So, will page 9 be much better? Reading the notes about life, culture and all the things we, as humans, question. Why does everyone have to be so curious? Well, I'd love to tell you. The fourth track on the cd, I know this is the one that'll last through the nights. Struggle with the reality, but no, this is what is left of me. When did the fingers drop, and when did the roads turn? Sooner than I could say, and you watched the entire show happen. Well, with dimmed lights, no one asks questions.

Waiting and counting, pages turning and sooner or later, the morning will come. Four hours away and surely, I'll regret the very second. The bed calls, and it always does. Night time photographs, and sweet beaches of stone. If anyone knows a swingset, it's you. Fall into key, it's summer. Let's maybe wander, and fuck, let's wonder. What the hell were you doing here? Point.

Spending nights behind closed eyes. Four hours to be myself. Sit back and read all about it. Maybe not this place. Maybe someplace quieter, a sweeter song and falling. The summer is finally here, and brown eyes can't hide. Bright eyes, wide-eyed. Snaps. Heh, the best four years and the end of them all. Open up, it's the new one. That big event you always read about and now, well, damnit, that was quick. My whole body can feel this world. Hope it lasts forever.

Inspired by the crust of velvet.

2008-07-02T23:39:00.000-04:00

Thunder and lightening. The walls are shaking, and I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't sweating, even just a little. At The Drive-In, a lowered volume to avoid waking you from your sleep. In your plans, I'm sure you never saw it working out like this. Well, what could I tell you? I've given up on loose ends.

An early morning and still a light is shining in my room. 7 days later, and I am growing fonder. Don't let me down. Only I can do that now right? Take your picture in the morning, work out your fears at night. Pretend that everything is okay, but start to recognize that it actually is. That's okay isn't it? Amazing. A beautiful voice to sign the perfect words, pillows and the works, but the day's countdown has already started. Floor one to three, a stairwell all the same. It's humid.

The wall's looking thin, and sometimes I worry it might become my worst nightmare. All over the bed, sheets in a mess, the night's sleep would be ruined. The day is long and the feats are high, but when was that ever an obstacle? Something about leaving, and something about believing. C majors and all the keys that you missed. The set list started with your song, and before it ever ended, the lyrics wrote the future. Open the book to page two. Tell me who I had, tell me the scene. Please, thank you. It would never be the same.

Late nights, early mornings and still, I am confined to the same habits. For once, try it. Inescapable discomfort, no matter how this could be, it always seems to work. When I tried to walk away, I heard myself. I knew the steps and I played the games. Read the chapters, illustrate the musings. Colour, please. I stole the crayons from my first grade desk partner. He got me back at recess, and soon, my shins were scraped, my scarves were a wreck and my nylons could never be replaced. An hour in the office could only remind me of age. Simple, isn't it? It's crazy.

There, so now what? Some nights the story is always the same, but on some, the story will be as unique as the experience. Who to tell, who would want to know? Where are you? Solace. A small gesture with big strides, no it could never be the same. Where are the pants? Where are the socks? There could never be a matching pair; the dryer eats them. Is it okay to include last summer's best? Too many questions and I'll never find the motivation to look for an answer. I just don't care. Not this time, maybe tomorrow but at least not tonight. I can hear you yelling through the doorway. I'm sorry.

Good night. I'll take my thumb off the button. Play.

The fairy tale ending.

2008-06-22T01:56:00.000-04:00

Finding the words to completely explain a 2am drive around a city I know nothing about. The night is always different. A different walk, a different story. A different heel, a different glory. The downtown strip, the morning wind and sandwiches on street corners. Tinted windows, and literature on a napkin. Wrinkled and in my hand, the typing of keys is not the same as a pen. A walk with a lover, the touch of a friend. Dark crosswalks, empty lights.

The longer the lights, the greater the process. 40 minutes away; just for me. Old records, songs that are yours. A disguise of questions to carry the song, a movie of star-cross'd lovers doomed. Romance on the fingertips of ocean waves, revving engines and always somewhere to go. North, East.

The windows are closed, and the stereo is all-encompassing. The shouts of pedestrians; drunken students and a retrospective look. Pick up your feet, think of me. Smoke in the basement, with only 30 seconds to score. How often is the timing so perfect? Attempting to discover where to begin; I fool myself with naivete, but I know it doesn't exist. A facade underneath it all. South, West.

All the streets are littered, and my wheels have graced the surface. 60 km/hour. There is never a need to rush, I'm not waiting. With moments of innocence, the same songs play on repeat and I am trapped in a daze. Completely unwilling, the changes are rare and the learning is deep. How could I ever tell you? What would I ever say? I would lie to you.

Take your compass and a map just for keeps. A pen is my hero and my words are for me. Writing lines of enemies for scented skin and dark hair. This is my midnight drive. The people are distinct, my experiences are simple but for you, they are what you read (and whatever that means to you). Sharps and minors, tapping toes and spinning dancers. Spontaneously, I've found the perfect niche. Follow the traffic, count to four. One.

Two. There's a knock at the door.

Three. Deep messages on crumpled notes I will never read again. Throwing away memories that lasted too long. Holding onto nothing more.

Four. Stay the night. Pick a new destination, and we'll go in the morning. Each day is its own. No packed bags, a box of cd's sliding in the trunk, and three blankets to keep us warm. A black car through the lights and a gift ordered too late. Disappear with me, its come undone.

Retelling the excitement of one: wondering how long it would take, or what it would be. The story of an early morning drive, after crossing lovers and sprinkles of green. The end is lust, a classic case I suppose. Comforting words and all I want to do is tell you the story. Life is the muse and the revelations are nothing more than living. I don't think I can close my eyes. Listen, read, and tell me exactly what I am supposed to hear. A tale that is never told is a waste, and for all those that care, a writer's tale is your own interpretation. Three words or 15 pages, a story is experience. This is life, or close enough.

The light has taken your side. Occupy the back of another's mind.

2008-06-17T08:29:00.000-04:00

The Preamble
I don't need to hope. I don't need to tell you that trust is the most important promise. I only had to repeat what I knew was always forgotten, and it was. An early morning soundtrack is second best to the freshly washed dishes and the cafe that will bring me every step of the way. My dreams were never for you; they are mine and yours are yours. Am I afraid? I never doubted it. I always promised you, but really, I always promised me.

Sometimes we rely on the real thing far too much. Did we need this? And that? Did your entire life depend on the single message you've been waiting for? Maybe, but likely not. Nothing needs to be as permanent as we want it to be, and if reality has proven itself time and time again, nothing is permanent. So it fades, and even disappears... are you still okay?

Independent of one another, identities form without aid. I just need you to sit. So what if I cried? So what if I didn't care? So what if I cared too much? It is never anybody's job to teach someone how to love or learn or even be; this just happens. An hour of sweat is enough to tear me away. My lungs are empty, and through the night, I'll be running free. This is a dream, isn't it? Nothing's left for you.

Empty sheets, a single bed. Each side is mine and every uncertainty is stowed away for a rainy day that'll never come. You don't need to explain - it's okay. It's in the back of my mind. Four letter words and long-winded conversations; there isn't time to argue. There wasn't enough time to argue. The divide could never swallow me whole. You invented the game, but I won. Did you let me?

Some day I might thank you, or like the others, a silent hello is all that I need to give. Underestimating yourself is the biggest mistake. Birthdays aren't to be celebrated, and instead, I think of the train that is minutes away. I can hear it coming, and it seems so much more important than blown candles and empty drinks. Think of me tonight.

All the little things you've missed. Hold your hand up high, there is no need to rush this last one. Thirty minutes. The charge never finishes but I'll wait. A classic case, I suppose. It's never okay to lie, and it's never okay to assume people are none-the-wiser. Your actions created my reactions, and that is my fault. These are your faults, and for what they are, a self-destructive emotion is up for grabs. Wear the crown. In desperate times, it all seems over now.

Reckoner

2008-01-04T00:05:00.000-05:00

I'll never get over how great Radiohead sounds after a long day of meaningless london living. This is a great day to take a breather. I didn't get a haircut yet, and I'm pretty behind in all my work but I still can't help but concentrate on other (more important) things in my life. I can't stop thinking about other things.

I'm going to crawl into bed tonight. I still haven't put the sheets on it properly. I really haven't unpacked. Boxes and bags are blocking the doorway. They're such fire hazards and yet I'm still not at all motivated to move them, or at least make a pathway somewhere. I don't have enough room in my closet for everything I brought back, and for some reason, I always believe I need more.

Did I ever tell you just how beautiful you are? I should, but I probably won't. My head is pounding but I insist that it is something else. I just want to close my eyes and wake up to the busy day I should be having. I'll tidy up when I see you... I'll start unpacking tomrrow... just in case.

Radiohead. Hot showers, dewy walls.

Let's keep it together.