sporadic fulfilment: October 2005

prolix for the hell of it

now that i've learnt my lesson regarding the culinary paucity of halifax, i've lowered my standards accordingly & am now consuming a 'noodle-in-a-cup' for supper, allegedly "oriental hot & sour" flavoured, the only thing that makes it remotely "oriental" is the copious amount of msg.

the "soup" smells & tastes like vomit's afterbirth.

-- 1 day sober --

whatever has the world come to?

-- they put up christmas decorations on the lamposts 'downtown' this morning & apparently all that jesus-y goodness has managed to stave off the Powers of Darkness; tonight is as dead as any night.

-- even the biker gangs here stop to let you jaywalk across the street.

-- because i'm expanding my sticker-vandalism into one of my end-of-semester projects, which necessitates photographic documentation & therefore the purchasing of disposable cameras, there's likely gonna be photos for the blog. any requests? [i reserve the right to dis your momma if i think your request is stupid.]

-- i put up 'sitemeter' last week & now i've found that sporadic fulfilment turns up on a msn search for "i like to fuck my daughters [sic] pussy." don't they teach basic grammar at pervert school?

there is no more alcohol of any sort in my room & i just spent the past hour cleaning my own vomit off the floor & out of my hair. oh, & constantly dry-heaving because chocolate & chartreuse (last night was the first time i managed to drink an entire bottle in 15 minutes. yay for me.) makes for puke that's both revoltingly sweet-smelling & acrid...the caretakers charge $50 for puke-cleaning, probably worth it if you could afford it.

what set off this particular binge was my wondering despondently all through town looking for a sushi restaurant that was open both on a sunday & at 11pm -- how did i even think that was possible?

it would do me good to remember that insane optimism never pays off.

[random observation: i was throwing things out the window & judging from the splatters on the glass, i missed quite a few times...i throw like a girl so nothing's broken.]

i'm not ready for aa but i'd like to see how long i can stay clean (to prove that i can). so this is gonna be my little experiment: no alcohol for as many days as i can manage until the end of the month; if i can do it, then i'll spend december 1st getting properly wasted as a reward. of course, the whole thing's off if i get invited to any free open bars.

-- 0 days sober --

for that incestuous feeling first thing in the morning

What Are You Most Likely to Utter During Sex by UMAJohnnie
Name
Sexuality
Age
Most Likely to Say	"I love that thing you do with your tongue, I just wish you would stop doing it to my sister."

Quiz created with MemeGen!

ah, the vagaries of the imaginary stock market.

My blog is worth $1,693.62.
How much is your blog worth?

every day is halloween

tomorrow is halloween & i've got nothing planned. if i were to dress up, i think i'd be the suburbs because nothing quite says 'unending torment with a side of repression' like good ol' suburbia...i feel like i'm edward scissorhands here. halifax is what the suburbs [i'm saying "the" suburbs because there is just one Suburb, spread throughout the world] would be like if it was designed by a team consisting 50/50 of admen & victorians working for disney. i don't even want to go outside tomorrow -- i know i'll get at least 1 'compliment' from some total stranger/fuckhead tourist on my "costume."

twiglets are nasty

this game is probably what you'd get if giacometti had a taste for ultraviolence & freeware. ( & didn't die in the 'sixties.)

has anyone ever tried to order a "rum & pepsi" before?

super-delectable 'pick me up' recipe:

-- 1 bottle beer -- doesn't matter what kind, as long as it's cold
-- organic lemon extract

1. open beer, drink some.
2. add a bit of lemon extract.
3. cover top with hand, shake bottle to mix.
4. clean beer off hand, floor, clothes.
5. drink.
6. repeat until oblivion hits.
7. it's ok if you decide to forgo steps 2-4 somewhere along the way.

the world always looks better after you've whipped an empty chartreuse bottle out of your seventh-storey window in broad daylight.

i am not on crack

i am not on crack. i am not on crack. i am not on crack. i am not on crack. i swear i am not on crack but i still want to run around in circles circles circles outside & see what i'm missing out on despite it being four-thirty in the morning. my legs are twitching fairly badly, as are my hands. i still have assignments for drawing i have to do due before today in four more hours. it's not coffee. alcohol slows me down enough to make the world bearable & i haven't had any all day. night. whatever. i type this to entertain people i'll likely never meet. why?

i'd like to see you try to get this song out of your head.

this is not 'the breakfast club,' you asswad.

one of the guys working at the caf tried to pick me up...why the bloody buttfucking hell is this happening to me now? i don't need this. i don't have low self-esteem issues -- in fact, i've got a hell of an ego: it's kinda mandatory if you plan to devote your life to The Arts -- but i know i don't match up to mainstream society's ideal of sexiness: wrong height, wrong weight, wrong thoughts, wrong outfits. i mean, i might be "cute" if the light is right or if you've had more than a few, but aren't my "fuck off & die" vibes getting through to your country music-deadened brain?

again it comes back to my theory that all you really want to do is brag to your buddies about all the slant-eyed pussy you're getting...dude, you wear flannel for fuck's sake!

i am a music snob.

fucking around with iTunes' "shared music" function [for those who don't use iTunes, this displays the playlists of everybody on the network who haven't turned the "share my music" option off] right now so that's why i'm listening to rufus wainwright's 'cigarettes & chocolate milk'... one of the better songs on the playlists of those anonymous people whose tastes i now get to speculate about & insult.

i can't help but make up little bios for people like the lady with nothing but ani difranco songs, the guy with the mahler piece mixed in with his mainsteam 'gangsta' hiphop, & the person-of-ambiguous-gender who seems to carry a torch for dead musicians (nothing but songs from people like elliott smith & jimi hendrix where the only commonality they share is that they are all quite dead.).

an anthropological-cum-sociological note: christian music (creed, sixpence none the wiser) & country music of the 'trucks & cowboys' variety shows up in nearly every single playlist; songs where the singer's voice can be described as "ethereal" are also extremely popular...who the hell beat them with the Picturesque Stick?

it's probably fair that i put up a playlist of my own for the plebes to laugh at.

it happened again

another week, another fire alarm-related building evacuation out onto the cold, dark street... this time in addition to my cds, plane tickets, & notebook, i remembered to put a sweater on & grab my umbrella; next time i'll probably remember to actually bring along my cd player & close my laptop.

while out in the rain (i hate being an almost-5 foot 3 girl with a giant umbrella in a windy storm) this time, i went to the liquor store to buy a few cans of guinness so i'd have something to drink while watching gerard hall go down guy fawkes style.

of course it turned out to be a false alarm.

archaisms abound in ye olde halifaxe-towne

today (technically yesterday) i heard some lady use the word "gracious" in actual casual conversation. maybe it's because i come from a place where nobody's particularly gracious, but the word itself seems awkward to me; i have no problems saying "ain't" & "y'all," & as large as my vocabulary is, my diction is utter crap. "gracious" just doesn't lend itself well to mangling.

i hate my hair

i've been growing it out from the i'm-so-hardcore "completely shaved but with bangs" look ever since i got here, partly to keep me from freezing my brains when winter comes & partly because i forgot to pack the electric razor. it's now around 2 inches long in most spots...which i couldn't care about less if the sides & back didn't persist in being mashed flat against my head to contrast so starkly with the anime style sticking-up bits on top to make me look like i have a mullet -- a mullet with funny looking blue bangs.

cannabis vodka!

i knew it

My blog is worth $0.00.
How much is your blog worth?

fun with words

this is the associated press coverage of scott dyleski's alleged killing of his neighbour. compare it with the cnn version to up your paranoia levels that much more.

on a somewhat related note, i've had a teacher accuse me of witchcraft in grade nine...i got called over & told to stop my juju because she was getting "complaints" from my classmates. i still have no idea what that was about; i'm not & have never been religious in any way.

ppl who writ liek dis on purpose deserve to die

i will never understand teenaged girls -- thing is, those people are my "peers."

someone should go & make the opposites of 'smileys' ...bleedys or something.

grains of aggravation

-- gerard way of my chemical romance: you know you've got it made when even overweight alternachix in halifax start dressing like you. not to mention the hordes of scrawny emo guys with dyed-black hair trying to win their girlfriends back.

-- warm beer: my residence has turned on the central heating (it's still t-shirt weather, fuckers!) which means all the beers i had sitting on the radiator in front of the window to get as close to cold as possible in my fridge-less room is now warmer than fresh piss on a winter's day. the gods are telling me to stick to red wine & hard liquor.

-- academia: the final exam for my correspondence course finally came in & i bullshitted my way through it today... i'm almost certain i failed; if i did & don't get to retry it (this time i'm gonna actually try to study instead of sitting all sad-drunk on my windowsill, contemplating defenestration), then it's either another shitty correspondence course & more 100-page "booklets" that i'll inevitably leave until the last minute, or a seventh year of highschool. i'm a loser, i really am. did i mention that i'm fucking up my current university courses too?

-- cafeteria food: it couldn't get any worse so i had a plate of cherry jello with tartar sauce & runny gravy for dinner "tonight." (yes, they serve dinner from 4-ish to almost-seven... that's like lunchtime for me; i go to bed hungry every morning: feel my fuckin' pain.)

-- fun 'n' games: still the same old complaint. it's a friday night & i'm barricaded in my room typing away like some kind of nerd. there's nothing to do & noone i want to do... getting me to want to get my cherry popped would definitely be something that'd need easing into (pun kinda intended). mainly because it'd have to be done while all parties involved are stone cold sober; i insist. this is the only way i can weed out the idiots (so far, they're ALL idiots) because despite all my free-internet-porn-viewing-in-the-name-of-science, the mechanics of the sex act still look really, really, stupid -- which i imagine can only be exacerbated by a partner who's literally a dumbfuck...

they know what you're up to

check this article out: the government can, if it's so inclined, tell the date, time, & make of colour printer something is printed on thanks to a "secret barcode" the printer automatically prints onto everything it produces. -- i wonder what else has "secret barcodes" on them?

i'm wide-awake drunk, smelling like an ashtray & the 'wide-awake' part seems to be fading... listening to the killers' 'hot fuss' which i got from the library because overnight successes are always suspect in my book & i'd lost all desire to actually buy their cd when i saw that there was already an "instrumental tribute album" out. i'm just seeing what the masses are listening to, really. the synth is annoying...

i definitely feel like shit today.

nothing like an emergency to show you what your priorities are

apparently self-preservation isn't very high on my list of Things That Are Important: i spent the past half-hour shivering out in the october rain because there was smoke coming in under my door & the alarm/strobelight warning-thingie was going off like crazy but i didn't notice because i was plugged into my cd player, seeking solace from my meagre collection of music. i didn't notice until the smoke was in my eyes... & then i grabbed my bag, stuffed some cds in, & my notebook & plane tickets (in that order) & then left my room without getting anything more sensible -- like an umbrella or a friggin' sweater -- or more valuable -- like the laptop i'm typing this on, worth at least twice as much as everything else i have with me in halifax. am i really that in love with new york? (it must be something they put in the water; i was only there for a single week, after all.) now every single item in my room is covered in some sort of mysterious Powder...perhaps a magical fire-extinguishing powder?? even the keyboard & now my fingertips are coated in the stuff.... i was cleaning it off but then i decided to tell y'all about it while finishing off my half-bottle of gin & my quarter bottle of chartreuse all in one go. i've taken to drinking a bottle of chartreuse a week, by the way; the liquor store guy doesn't ask me for id anymore because he knows me by sight. [the only asian punk in the all of halifax.what an honour...] if the alarm goes off again tonight, chances are i won't notice. lucky thing i've been sleeping with my boots on these past few days, otherwise i'd be like the other poor bastards who had to stand outside in their pyjamas & slippers. i don't even own a pair of slippers...hah.

oh yeah, there wasn't a proper fire...i'm safe.

wednesday one-liner

woke up with 'don't cry for me argentina' stuck in my head -- & not the whole song, either, just that one single phrase looping around-and-around on itself...

umlauts are cool...

fun fact v. 1.1

my chartreuse+gin+cheap orange juice-from-concentrate-in-an-unwashed mug smells like fish but i'm gonna drink it anyway. i also haven't taken my boots off since saturday evening; what proper lady can say the same about her high heels?

fun fact:

did you know that there's not a single place in halifax or dartmouth that both has 15 hundred 1 3/8" safety pins in stock & is open after 6pm?

first we take manhattan, but you can keep berlin...

midterms are next week & we're supposed to apply to the courses we want for next semester the week after. time only seems slow when you are living it. i have a backlog of assignments & projects that i'm attempting to finish all lastminutely. is life postschool like this at all? i still haven't gone to see 'corpse bride' because the last screening, at 9pm, isn't late enough for me. maybe i'll see it at some second-run theatre when i've rejoined 'sivilisation.' normally i don't mind staying in, it's when the confinement is enforced by crappy weather & nothing being open that i break out the self-pity & liquor. (bombay sapphire isn't too bad if it's watered down 1:1 with lemongrass cordial.) there's actually a nice old graveyard with a climbable fence 2 minutes away that's perfect for waifing about in if one doesn't mind the Historical Information plaques & sounds from the infrequent passing car spoiling the mood. & there's the harbour itself of course, scrupulously clean, well lit, & picturesque [i'm growing to truly despise that word] but one can still weep there & mayhaps even fling oneself to messy death on the rocks below if one takes a running leap from the top of a restaurant or summat... then there's always drowning, which is very ophelia-like & romantic (until putrefaction sets in) if enough flowers can be strewn about to decorate the wavelets. the seagulls -- & they're fuckin' huge -- will probably get at one's eyes first, though. so, no death for me tonight. back to work; after all, what's Art without a little Suffering?

more spamblog surreality

i think they're just lifting random chunks of text off other people's stuff to use as the headline/title of the spamblogs; how else does one explain adverts for "men's cotton thongs" in something with the words "quadriplegic veterans" in the title? that's too tasteless even by my gutter-low standards.

spamblog surreality

"How To Determine The Sex of Discus Fish. The Three Step Plan To Prosperity."

weekend shopping spree

it's wetter than an orgy of nuns outside & i spent the remainder of this month's budget on a new umbrella (this one's got a lifetime guarantee...), a bottle of gin (bombay sapphire 'cause i like the colour of the bottle), & a bottle opener because i'm tired of having to open beer on the edge of the bedframe. i also got a "poster" for my room: it's not a poster technically speaking because it's really a condom ad i took off a bus when its driver left on break.

i'm turning into a pervy old man, aren't i? drinking gin & gettin' sex-obsessed. next thing you know i'll start smoking a pipe.

to keep with the theme, check this out.

captive markets & their effect on dirt-poor students:

being "the largest city in atlantic canada" (i'm quoting from some guidebook here), halifax is the closest thing to urban for the next several provinces around, & as such is pretty fuckin' isolated from real cities like, oh say, toronto. this means that the local Purveyors of Culture can & do mark up prices to as high as possible without losing too much business... second-hand cds here sell for an average of 12 bucks each whereas back in toronto 10 dollars-or-less is the norm; it's not like the artist is getting paid for their work, so why the hell won't you sell it for less? it's not like you've got no customers... you've got all the customers you could ever need 'cause there's like 5 used-music stores in the whole of halifax & they've got nowhere else to go except to your crampedcrappysmalldusty stores where pop compilations from 5 years ago are the best sellers... your neon signs only serve to make you look pathetic.

i miss my weekly digging-around in sonic boom's 'new arrivals' tables so bad it isn't funny. strange that i miss the City more than i miss my family, but i've never really liked humanity per se. some small (very small) portion of humanity i find tolerable/admirable, but the rest? why, they can go fuck their plugged-in toasters in the shower for all i care.

i'm almost certain that i've bitched about this before, but stuff -- any-/everything -- is hard to find here. one has to Know Beforehand which stores one wants to go to & then one has to fucking COMMUTE there; it's a 40 minute bus ride to the nearest sears.

i paid 5 fuckin' dollars for a tiny roll of copper wire at a beading-supplies store because i don't have the time to take the bus to whichever hardware store it is they're selling it at prices that aren't grossly inflated to reflect 'supply and demand.' back home there were several places within walking distance where i could get spools of the stuff cheap-as-hell. all i can say is that i'm glad i'm taking art because most art supplies are small & therefore eminently shopliftable. (i mean, would you pay 30 bucks for a friggin' paintbrush if the money could be better put towards drowning your sorrows in pints of guinness?)

& they say big cities -- Real Cities -- are the expensive places to live in!

i might be happy enough to fellate a nyc subway pole when i get there.

disodium guanylate

guess what, it's not from shit.

...i still haven't gotten around to reading 'the catcher in the rye.' i always thought that i'd read it before i became an "adult" (whatever that may be) because it seemed like the kind of book that'd get ruined if you've lived too much before you'd read it. i'm not yet old enough to legally drink in the states, maybe that counts?

for the closet eunuch in all of us

this is for animals, but i reckon a pair of large dog (or go small if you want...) "neuticles" would fit the average human male. just imagine... no more acne & no more condoms...

"guess what, baby, i got neuticled!"

if that's not your thing or you're female, there's always the neuticles-on-a-chain or the barbecue apron from the merch page. tres chic.

blight

just a thought i wanna put out there: the blogger profiles'll list your astrological sign if you put your birth date in; for those people who are cancers, (heh.) it displays "male Cancer" or "female Cancer." ...doesn't that get annoying after a while? being called a disease? having crabs isn't so good either...

the quintessential halifax dining experience:

while eating my corpsemeat-masquerading-as-roast beef sandwich in the caf, i overheard the guy at the front desk talking about shotgun-sniping at chickens "when [he] was a boy." this was all to background music provided by some other guy thwacking away on his acoustic guitar & singing something unintelligible. maybe this only seems funny now because i had a few gin & tonics at the khyber. (the only place in halifax i feel completely at home in -- it's a ramshackle art gallery with a bar downstairs... how cool is that?)

it's raining again. it stopped last night & now it's started up again. then again, i'm living a mere 5 blocks away from the water; my umbrella -- which was brand new 3 weeks ago -- is already so busted up from being repeatedly flipped inside-out by the wind that i've 'repaired' it with enough wire/tape/glue for me to contemplate just duct-taping it permanently open.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

(2 minutes later) now it's stopped. glory be.

non sequitur

the word stool: how come it means both something one sits on & something one shits out?

[lighthearted comedic relief]

fellow unbelievers, meet bibleman. he has a Token Black Sidekick & his very own videogame! the people who do 'bibleman' also have a show aimed at girls, 'the missy files,' where the eponymous missy has a Token Jewish Friend -- see the pattern here?

be sure to try your hand at the "fun & games" featured on bibleman's page... betcha you fail the scripture quiz. (the url calls it the "combatManual," by the way.)

it's still raining; is it a good thing that there's nowhere to go in the first place?

as if i'm not bad enough already

in order to become a Truly Angsty Teen, i need to get me some absinthe & second-hand copies of byron. too bad i don't look good in a cape...

give me tofurkey or give me death

thanksgiving in canada today. it's been raining non stop for 3 days straight...thanks for trying, but this place isn't gonna wash away.

damn

there exists a spam-blog called "dollymalone." found it while browsing. why did they have to go ruin a great name like that? someone (preferably someone really named dolly malone) could of done something with it.

(the narrator-voice in my head has acquired a british accent all of a sudden...) feeling a bit discombobulated lately.

this is how i want to die.

To drink my weight, I would have to chug 175 bottles of beer!
How big is your beer belly?
Powered by the mighty Rum and Monkey.

my favourite word is 'susurrus.'
what's yours?

i still don't get it.

got rice, bitch?

-- i've failed math. twice.
-- i can barely use chopsticks. a fork makes a better weapon anyway.
-- me no like flied lice.
-- i can't kung-fu worth shit.
-- i have no cheekbones.
-- my eyes aren't "almond shaped."
-- as a matter of fact, i look sorta like a younger, punky female version of ron sexsmith.
-- i'm short but by no means delicate.
-- i have something of a problem with authority.
-- ditto conformity.
-- i don't cook. i stick leftovers between 2 slices of bread & call it a sandwich.
-- wash your own damn underpants; that's what washing machines are for.
-- i don't know any exotic oriental sexual maneuvers. go bukkake your mama.
-- i've never even been outside of north america.
-- i'd rather eat live maggots than wear a schoolgirl kilt for any reason.
-- i can never become a doctor/lawyer/suburbanite.
-- instead, i shall live off my Art & various crappy odd jobs to support the making of said Art.
-- i shit, piss & fart like every other human being.
-- i don't want you to be my daddy so leave me the hell alone.

everyone's an asshole but me, or, stigmatization... continued

this is the poster i was too drunk to mention yesterday. these things are taking up space in more than a few bus shelters in halifax -- it's selling halifax to people that are already here. it sums up every single fucking thing i hate about halifax -- & it's 1 of 3 such posters. (you can marvel at their stupendously shallow shittiness here.)

i mean, everyone loves a good piece of propaganda featuring faceless, clean-cut, youthful-but-not-dangerously-so consumer-bots marching in formation (why, they even put the Token Black Guy up front. how hip of them.), but didn't "Freedom and Liberty" mean more once upon a time? ...people died in wars so that "we" can window shop? how fucked up is that?

i tried to find a picture of the "BLIND PERSON" signs but had no luck (i so need a digital camera) but apparently the halifax regional municipality pays for the signs. there is also one that says "DEAF CHILD", which i haven't seen personally but was mentioned in some council meeting or other.

imagine growing up with that nailed in front of your house.

i've already been here for an entire month & i didn't see my first drag queen [that really ought to be an official measure of urban-ness, The First Transvestite] until today. she wasn't trying very hard & you could tell that she needed a shave quite badly, but i'll take what i can get...

-- everybody else on the bus was either making fun of her or just Staring. i'm glad she didn't get on. what's so amazing is that this is coming from the same people who wave hello to the godsdamned bus driver sitcom-style. i'm not exaggerating: people here really do stop & smile & wave at the bus drivers. not everybody does it, but enough people do to disturb me. i suppose i could have tried to shout down the whole bus (& part of me still wishes i had the guts to), but all i did was sigh & turn up my cd player (jayne county's deviation...feel the irony...).

music. i never leave 'home' without it. it may save your life: it gives me something else to think about other than sodomizing you violently with a picturesque mailbox-on-a-post for confirming my opinion of you being a dumbfuckredneckidiot; haven't y'all watched enough movies (& your gelatinous, cheap track suit-covered asses say you have) to know that this is the ideal time to trot out the sexy & cultured rebel-with-a-heart-of-gold/lipstick lesbian for me to fall madly in love with, thereby converting me to the joys of small-town life?

stigmatization & other local phenomena

this is something i've seen only in halifax (but then again, i'm not exactly 'well travelled') : in front of some of the houses there are ginormous, yellow diamond-shaped signs screwed up on posts. they are somewhat larger than your average stop sign & list in all caps some kind of physical infirmity: "BLIND PERSON," "DEAF PERSON," "HEARING IMPAIRED PERSON" et cetera -- presumably those signs serve the same function as those 'school crossing' signs, & warn those passersby to be extra careful, but why stop at that, i say. why not have signs for everybody?
"INSUFFERABLE FOOL," " GANGRENE OF THE SCROTUM," & the like; my sign would probably say something like "MISANTHROPIC BASTARD"... it's ok though, if other people don't mind being singled out for pity/ridicule by big fuckin' signs in front of their houses, then why should it bother me?
[on a more sober note (yes, i'm drunk) i'll follow up on this, find out if those signs are mandatory or voluntary. that kind of thing & finish up this post proper-like in a couple of hours. there's also a real messed up poster i wanna comment on, but i'm late for a party & i keep pressing the wrong keys anyways, so i'll finish this one up later, like maybe tomorrow.]

self-portrait a la 'south park'

(courtesy of this spiffy program-thingie.)

haven't done a late-night post in a while

& i really don't have much to say right now, seeing as i'm apparently not gonna be whining about being stuck in halifax (i did choose to come here, after all). i'll just pretend i'm getting my wintertime depression early (woohoo.) this year. the pointless hours-long bus rides in dartmouth & the physical reassurance of having my plane tickets & passport on my person 24/7 helps a bit too.

i'm not doing so well in class, mainly because i get overwhelmingly repulsed by the smallest things, to the extent where i end up fixated on them to the exclusion of everything else.

--things like: the lumpy backmeat on fat middle aged tourist-women in too-small bras & tight blouses; how every kid my age here still manage, via the magic of cable television, to dress/act/talk like big-city hipster scum despite living in the middle of nowhere; how i get nostalgic for the smell of piss-soaked doorways & even caught myself the other day slowing down & taking a deeper-than-usual breath while walking past the only one on my route to/from school... there's only one because i detour through the 'business district' for the couple-of-storeys-taller-than-average buildings & because i'd rather walk a gauntlet of suits out on smoke breaks than walk down the 'main drag' & have one more bus-full of tourists -- all past retirement age, all white -- turn their heads in synchronicity & stare at me as the bus goes past; how even the locals are the kind of people -- appearance- & personality-wise -- i've always associated with the word "tourist," which kicks my already overdeveloped 'me against the world' mentality up several notches... & i know this one is really stereotypical, but people here really do walk much, much slower; how my new & completely uncalled for status as a semi-desirable, exotic piece of ass confuses the hell out of me so badly that i alternate between finding it hilarious & getting Creeped Out on a metaphysical level...especially because the guys i tend to attract are mainly the 'drunk as fuck 50-year old professor/film industry pro' types...

oh yes, i crashed the closing gala for the film fest & spent the entirety of it having a Vaguely Profound Discussion About Sexuality and Physical Desire with a guy at least 3 decades older & a foot-&-a-half taller than me, but not until i'd stated repeatedly that, no, i have no desire or intent to ever let him "make love" [his words, not mine] to me... i guess he was kind of cool for a creep with a lolita fetish...remarkably articulate even after 5 or 6 $7 stellas... we went to the afterparty together, where he got me a couple shots of whiskey before we parted ways -- & no, he didn't 'get any.' not from me anyways: we'd established beforehand that i was gonna knee him in the balls if he so much as kissed me goodnight.

see? elsewhere, i'd just be considered street-scum & wouldn't have made it into the party in the first place. the people here really are too trusting... i've used the same bus transfer for several rides over several days...

graffiti in halifax is in an even more embryonic state than it is in toronto: to help remedy that, & because i was/still am bored, i put up about a hundred fifty adhesive lables, blank except for an ambiguous slogan ["make me pretty." "vandalize me good." "your ad here:" "all your friends are doing it" etc], just sticking them on phone booths, lampposts, whatever i could get to... they've been up now through several storms & even though most of them haven't been peeled off or postered over( -- itself a bad sign), almost all of them are still blank...

if anyone from halifax/dartmouth is reading this (& i highly doubt it), go outside right now & fill up a couple of stickers, hell, put up some of your own...there's so many blank walls around. i'll even give you some if if you email me; i have over a thousand more of the little suckers left, eternal optimist that i am.

...these are some of the "small" things that bug me... other than that, i feel good.

who said girls are more mature?

click here for boobies.

maybe i'm getting old...

been listening to johnny cash for the past several hours...

does anyone else get the uncontrollable/involuntary urge to put 'e's at the ende of words that don't need them?

i'm lucky i never get hangovers

apparently whoever it is that has the room below mine not only has a drum kit but practices every day. i just never noticed because i'm usually plugged into my cd player (except today, obviously). consequently, i 've discovered that i like 30 minute drum solos.

sporadic fulfilment

Monday, October 31, 2005

prolix for the hell of it

whatever has the world come to?

for that incestuous feeling first thing in the morning

Sunday, October 30, 2005

ah, the vagaries of the imaginary stock market.

every day is halloween

Saturday, October 29, 2005

twiglets are nasty

super-delectable 'pick me up' recipe:

Friday, October 28, 2005

i am not on crack

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

this is not 'the breakfast club,' you asswad.

i am a music snob.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

it happened again

Monday, October 24, 2005

archaisms abound in ye olde halifaxe-towne

Sunday, October 23, 2005

i hate my hair

Saturday, October 22, 2005

i knew it

fun with words

Friday, October 21, 2005

ppl who writ liek dis on purpose deserve to die

grains of aggravation

they know what you're up to

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

nothing like an emergency to show you what your priorities are

wednesday one-liner

Monday, October 17, 2005

fun fact v. 1.1

fun fact:

Sunday, October 16, 2005

first we take manhattan, but you can keep berlin...

more spamblog surreality

Saturday, October 15, 2005

spamblog surreality

weekend shopping spree

Friday, October 14, 2005

captive markets & their effect on dirt-poor students:

disodium guanylate

Thursday, October 13, 2005

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

for the closet eunuch in all of us

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

blight

the quintessential halifax dining experience:

Monday, October 10, 2005

non sequitur

[lighthearted comedic relief]

as if i'm not bad enough already

give me tofurkey or give me death

Saturday, October 08, 2005

damn

this is how i want to die.

i still don't get it.

Friday, October 07, 2005

everyone's an asshole but me, or, stigmatization... continued

Thursday, October 06, 2005

stigmatization & other local phenomena

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

self-portrait a la 'south park'

haven't done a late-night post in a while

Monday, October 03, 2005

who said girls are more mature?

Sunday, October 02, 2005

maybe i'm getting old...

Saturday, October 01, 2005

i'm lucky i never get hangovers

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