word of the day:
"eidetic."
"I like my eggs like I like my women -
Over easy, with a sausage in 'em"
"I can only think of sex when I try and write.
…I’ve got writers cock."
"I pluck my eyebrows in his name. I cook up with his finest candles.
But, I fail to see how a principled man could ever wear those fuckin' sandals."
- handbags at dawn
go download their 2 eps. you'll thank/hate me for it later.
made my first ever booty call & am now in that post-shower, pre-going out state of nervous excitement...i've been on the recieving end of booty calls & am well versed in rejecting/accepting propositions, but this, this is something new. w00t!
...i find the chinese surnames 'dong,' 'wang,' & 'poon' hilarious...does my asianess make it ok? (there was this kid named long dong in seventh grade. i never could talk to him.)
i have no more chartreuse.
wanna lose weight? try The Poverty Diet!
i've lost over 20 pounds since leaving hellifax, & while i'm still a long way away from that oh-so-desirable auschwitz/kate moss figure, it's a bit worrying...should i start eating sticks of butter to compensate for the fact that i'm more or less living on just fruit & rice?
did you smoke some weeed? i spent my money on coffee & magazines instead. right now i'm gloriously twitchy from the 20 packets of sugar i put in my coffee...i stayed up last night working on my 'bukkake milkshake'
t-shirt while listening to obscure britpunk & don't plan to sleep tonight either if i can help it.
i am developing bondage cuff-tanlines.
again proving that ugliness trancends time, an archive of victorian/edwardian portraiture for your perusal &/or carnal abuse.
or there's this if your tastes run more towards the three-dimensional...
- spent the morning browsing pawnshops, stole a blue plastic doorknob.
- nearly got pissed on.
- "whadda you want, you want methadone? i got methadone."
- ugly. hookers. everywhere.
- even uglier rich chicks on the bus coming back.
here's another schizophrenic mixtape, this one suitable for playing really loud on crappy speakers while debating whether or not to put "drinking" in as an 'interest & leisure activity' on one's resume:
1.the sex pistols -- anarchy in the uk
2.lou reed -- there is no time
3.cursive -- art is hard
4.the b-52s -- planet claire
5.acid zen wonder paint -- rubberduckie
6.cathal coughlan -- amused as hell
7.modest mouse -- tiny cities made of ashes
8.bjork -- violently happy
9.d generation -- capital offender
10.rubber city rebels -- i don't wanna be a punk no more
11.leonard cohen -- ain't no cure for love
12.the cure -- there is no if...
13.the decemberists -- we both go down together
14.richard bacchus -- pugnacious
15.gogol bordello -- 60 revolutions
16.the buzzcocks -- teenage kicks
17.royal city -- dank is the air of death & loathing
18.jesse malin -- riding on the subway
19.mark foggo's skasters -- deadbeat
20.teenage casket company -- bad girl
21.lydia lunch -- spooky
22.jens lekman -- you are the light (by which i travel into this & that)
i have precisely one shot's-worth of chartreuse left.
...& all i got from it was a craving for bright green apples...
that's right, another checkmark on my 'illicit substances to try' list. i have no desire to take acid again anytime soon: after the first couple of hours -- & i was tripping for 10+ hours -- the constant visual overstimulation, synesthesia, & time/sound distortions just get to be too much. even closing your eyes & putting a blanket over your head won't stop it.
but i woke up today with my neurons still wired properly & had a beer for breakfast.
"spurius corkery."
,from a random piece of spam.
i've been awake for 31 consecutive hours...
went to my first record swap meet today & bought myself some actual vinyl:
lou reed - 'growing up in public'
toronto - 'lookin' for trouble'
loverboy - 'loverboy'
i even figured out how to work the record player -- without having to consult the internet!
sipping a glass of chartreuse & cherry juice for breakfast...
that's right, a single, ladylike martini-glassful of sweet, sweet, wormwood-y goodness; it's downright criminal, trying to stretch out a bottle of chartreuse over a month or more.
'interactive vandalism' is up & running, by the way. it won't be updated nearly as frequently as this blog, but i'll mention any updates here.
i've started another blog just for documenting my sticker-vandalism. the photos i took in new york & toronto are there as well as some from the bad old days in halifax. the link for it's in the sidebar. i'm still working on it, however -- & blogger is acting fucked up again, so it's probably better to check it out tomorrow instead.
forget the sanctity of life/miracle of birth. i hate having bloody globs of placenta sluicing out of my vagina every month or so. guys have it so easy with their morning wood & erectile dysfunctions.
nonexistent product of the day:
simmered fetus chunks in tomato-basil sauce.
...i will never buy canned seafood from the dollar store again. steal it, maybe. but no more paying for diarrheic wake-up calls.
i think i've lost at least 2 pounds since morning.
i hurt inside.
i am also out of toilet paper.
omg, losing my cyber-innocence right now...chatting in another window with a guy who wants his 'sausage & 2 veg' cut off & the part i can't believe is that he hasn't heard of the ramones. what the hell's the matter with me?
possible vancouver archaism:
'breakfast' spelt ultra-oldschool as "break fast" on a restaurant sign.
typo of the day:
"otehrs."
(there are 45, 500 hits for it on google)
the stupidest use of 'xtreme' spelling yet:
"bankz."
i imagine that somewhere out there in mtv/msn-ebonics-land this exchange is taking place right now:
suburbanwhtboynigga_69: yo wazzup dawg you tap dat hoes ass lik u said u wuz gonna?
no1knowsimwearingmyfatbrotherz2ndhandclothes: no dont want teh biznatch's hemorrhoidz be actin up again ;)
suburbanwhtboynigga_69: word.