words we never use.
i woke up to the realization that my roomies and i forgot to take out recycling last night. in my half asleep dazed, huge sweatpants, and see-through white wifebeater i stumbled down the stairs of our building to check if the recycling had been picked up yet. no. sweet. i stumbled back up the stairs with my eyes half closed. i had to make three trips down the stairs with all our recyclables... we missed recycling last week. i almost fell down the stairs. i had visions of my ugly morning self lying broken in our stairwell amidst diet coke bottles, cereal boxes, and cans of soup.

then i realized how fitting that would be. it's exactly how i'm feeling these days. broken and covered in shit.

it's all just so fucking beautiful.
last night, i drank lots of booze. i danced and i danced. i decided not to care what i looked like. i was feeling unattractive and unwanted... and it was nice to spend the night goofing around on the dance floor with an attractive stranger. i needed that. i needed to not care what his name was. to have him sing interpol lyrics into my ear. i needed that temporary connection with someone. there's something kind of incredible about all the different ways we can connect with each other. their varying depths, meanings, time frames... and there's something to be said about being satisfied with what you get. everything is... what it is. i think i'm still learning this... slowly.

you me, you me and the weather
you me, you me and the storm
you me, you me here together
you me, you me safe and warm
you me, we've got things together
you me, we've both been warned of all that could happen
two lovers that tug on the reigns end
~ hawksley.

what happens while you're sleeping...
a few weeks ago after my favourite sunday routine of bulk food shopping for trail mix and banana chips, i was wandering home along st. laurent... enjoying the downhill slope and feeling quite dandy. a girl approached from the opposite direction and as our feet took us ever closer to each other, i noticed that she was singing. now, i tend to categorize public singing in three ways: 1. 4AM coming home from the bar/club singing, 2. crazy people singing that is really loud, but you have to pretend you don't hear or else they might want to talk to you, and 3. the soft sort of humming that the rest of the population sometimes is brave enough to let slip from their lips.

ok, so this girl's singing fit in with non of my ready made categories. she was not drunk, not crazy, but she did not restrict her song to a gentle hum. nope. not our girl here. she was singing an incredibly off-key but genuinely inspiring version of... ready for it... "big time sensuality" by bjork. who sings that walking down the street!? but you know what? it was absolutely fucking perfect. it was all i could do from letting my jaw drop in wonder at this beautiful thing that just happened to know exactly what i needed to hear. so you know what i did? i took up her song going the other way. in my off-key, out of tune voice... i did my best to sing big time sensuality at a level that ensured anyone who passed me heard it loud and clear.

and i crossed my fingers that someone else would pick up my song. it was kind of like the montreal version of "pay it forward."

saw you at a party
you asked me to dance
said music was great for dancing
i don't really dance much
but this time i did
and i was glad that i did this time

and the song said "let's be happy"
i was happy
it never made me happy before
and the song said "don't be lonely"
it makes me lonely
i hear it and
i'm lonely more and more
~yo la tengo, last days of disco

i have been soaking my soul in yo la tengo these past few days. like a dirty washcloth sitting in a sink full of its own grime... my body has been simmering in yo la tengo. my pores are filled with the sentiments in their songs...

come on, let's leave our misery
and crawl toward where we want to be
~night falls on hoboken

my excuse.
i'm starting to worry... i'm starting to push back the sinking feeling i have... the feeling that once school is over, i am going to be a complete mess. right now, school is my life. it is my justification for not having a job. it is my reason for being in montreal. it is the one sentence that assures everyone that i am doing something productive: "i'm in university." but uh... is that all i've got going for me? once university is over... i will have nothing. sure, i'll have a degree... but what the hell does that actually mean, in a real sorta way? its depressing me that i haven't managed to accomplish great things yet. and realistically, i won't ever. but school just seems to take up so much of my time... that its hard to have a life outside of this bubble. or maybe i'm just being lazy. why haven't i written something yet? what do i want to do? what are my passions i am always talking about?! sure, i would die to be a writer... but if i'm too timid to even share most of what i write... what good is that dream? i would love to get into photography... but i'm so poor i have seven rolls of film sitting in my room waiting to be developed. i think i'd like to travel, but half of the time travelling just seems like... well... like diving off the deep end. but you know... i'm supposed to want to travel, right? ah fuck, i'm depressing myself and it isnt even 10 yet. i have a long day ahead...

and i'm not feeling very interesting... or worthwhile for that matter. sometimes i feel like i've lost it. plus, i am incredibly ugly this morning. they need to invent a foundation that erases the ugg.

some tuesdays.
so we slept through two out of my three classes yesterday. he broke the alarm at about the time my first class would have been ending. he warned me about missing my second class... without sounding like he really wanted me to go. i grumbled that i wasn't getting up... and he cuddled me back to sleep. he made eggs and toast and cereal in the morning... or rather, the afternoon. i watched as he made sure to give me the eggs with the yolks intact. we played in the new snow while waiting for the bus. it felt like the kind of day where the world just wasn't awake yet either. a little grey... it reminded him of "butt fuck nowhere ontario." if there was a machine that worked to freeze time, capture emotions, chop them up, and spit them out as tangible objects... clementines would have come out of my machine. the subway was crowded and we pretended that everyone had slept in. i tried not to look too happy as i walked in late for my third and final class of the day.

tall trees and public enemies.
i haven't been sleeping too well. its almost as if my body is relieved when it is time to wake up... it takes the pressure off of trying to sleep. i've been dreaming a lot these past couple of days as well. nothing special... just lots of technicolour. i made my morning tea too strong and i don't want it anymore. i think i'm gaining weight because all i do when i write papers is sit on my ass and snack on chocolate and ringolos. my roomies are beginning to worry that all i eat is toast. i really don't. at least i'm pretty sure i don't. just this last little while i've been incredibly lazy about taking care of myself. i think i'm getting sick. i miss my sister. i'm listening to the new metric and its pretty damn shitty. they've lost their edge... she isn't using her voice like she used to. the rest of the band mostly just sounds like a pre-programmed keyboard song a lot of the time. its quite disappointing. almost like she's doing a poor immitation of esthero. over a backdrop of cheesy beats. ah. carla likes it. maybe i'm being too hard on them. nope. just listen to torture me. its proof.

i don't know why i am blogging this.

don't leave me high.

live in the now.

i have to remember that. i have to live in it... not in my head. live in how i feel not what i might feel... live in being happy... not worrying about whether or not i'm happy. everything happens too fast. like i was talking about down there... we only get to remember certain things... as long as i'm happy... i have to stop analyzing. stop picking everything apart. its sort of like living in hell, no? i am a self-confessed overthinker... and so i just need to keep reminding myself to shut up sometimes.

its all about not letting fear get to you.

don't leave me dry.

i scrunch my face down into my scarf and make my way home over the highway overpass. the first snowfall of the year subtly making itself known all around me. easing me into remembering. gently brushing my cheek and melting in my hair. i light a cigarette. first pack i have purchased in months. and it felt damn good. the warmth of that pack in my pocket... like an old friend. such a tired metaphor. carol said that when she gave up smoking the hardest part was that she felt like she was giving up a part of her identity.

i focus on being aware of the feeling of the cigarette inbetween my fingers... and i inhale. i stare at the graffiti on the overpass. the same graffiti i always stare at. part of my own personal urban map. this particular overpass is in the midst of being torn down. its hideous. i have bitched about it since the first time i drunkenly made my way home over it. maneouvering through oncoming traffic. its a hazard, i would screech out into the night. now, i watch the construction men working at fulfilling my drunken dream. for the first time i realize that eventually those bulldozers and men in yellow hats will stand in front of my grafitti. and my grafitti will inevitably lose this stand-off. a small part of my personal montreal will be torn down along with the hideous concrete jungle. i suddenly forget how hideous it really is. i shudder at how its already safer than it used to be. there's a set of lights now. i cross the lights and get a sudden rush.

just a hint of a feeling. what was it... justin's bed. there was something incredibly comforting about it. i took a drag and remembered how amazing it felt to light up after sex. his was the first bed i smoked in. we'd lie there and stare at his ceiling fan. he was the second person i'd ever slept with. i thought about how he never made me feel vulnerable. and while i had my weaker moments, where i thought i wanted more from him... i knew. i knew i didn't feel for him any more than he felt for me. it was what it was. there's something peaceful in that.

i stop in the middle of the overpass and lean on the rail. god, this intersection is ugly. i turn my head towards the cement mixer and sigh. construction makes me nostalgic. i start to think about how i have condensed my experiences with justin into a couple of miscellaneous feelings. i could describe it in just a few sentences now. before, i probably could have written pages. its funny how time passes and ordeals become sentences. selective narratives. too much actually happens... every instant of our lives contains just too much sensation. too much to remember... so we're forced to pick and choose defining aspects. smells, fabrics, vague feelings, tears. grafitti.

i start to continue on my way. narratives. construction. cigarettes...

i whisper a silent goodbye to my grafitti.

you don't have a clue.
i need to remember some things. i need to get my edge back. i need to forget this grandious plan i had... to be stable, to be open. newsflash: it doesn't work. don't try it at home people. hell, don't try it at all. no one wants what they think they want. everyone wants to be strung along... because everyone likes to be kept on edge. everyone likes the surprise of a phone call that they weren't expecting far greater than a phone call they knew was coming. everyone wants someone unstable, no matter what they tell you. no one wants someone that works properly. that's just too fucking scary.

people play games for a reason.

because if things go wrong... you can blame the game. if there is no game, you know the reason things are going wrong. its you.

fallible.
we talk about her all the time. that girl. you know. she usually comes up as a negative... "i don't want to be 'that girl' who waits by the phone..." or "i don't want to be 'that girl' that gets jealous of the time he spends with his friends." that girl haunts a lot of us. she's who we project everything onto. she bears all this weight. that girl.

how can i make what i want to say cryptic enough? cryptic enough so you won't know exactly what happened... but you'll get it. and i'll get some relief knowing its out there. the truth is... i can't. i can't tell you. i can't even tell him, so what hope have you got? how does one explain... how completely disrespected i felt. how completely wrong it had been. when i said it was ok. when i let him. when i urged him on. how can i explain what i felt when i stood in the bathroom looking at myself afterwards. how can i explain how sick his apologies made me feel. i began comforting him. I began comforting HIM. because if i could convince him it was ok, then maybe it meant i was ok too. how can i explain that i just don't want to talk about it. i don't want to look at him. no. it wasn't ok. i said it was. i don't understand it. i don't understand how it is possible... to say yes, to go with it... and then after... just have it feel... so horrible. but it was wrong. all wrong. i am that girl.

it changes everything. in a way that i can't explain. one stupid, drunken night. the inconsideration... my own placid permission... it makes me want to throw up. i don't know if i can forgive what i already said i forgave. its not even a matter of apologies... it happened. and it can't be taken back. i know he's sorry. he didn't mean to hurt me. but you know what? it doesn't make any fucking difference.

i never ever thought this could happen to me. i never ever thought i would feel this way. when i worried about him hurting me... i never considered that this would be how it happened. something is changed. and i don't know what to do right now. i don't know what to do.

"and you do lose, what you don't hold
this is an old song
these are old blues
and this is not my tune..."

just you and i misbehavin'.
two bodies lying side by side on the bed. staring at the ceiling. eyes wide.

"...thats why this is so amazing... everything just becomes so incredible. all the little things explode in your head."

"there's a fly in here."

"it's kind of nice."

"yea. it really is. funny how it's so hard to be with the 'normal' people right now... but that fly... it's not high. but it's not in the least bit offensive. it's incredibly soothing actually."

"it's just so unaware in general. minding its own business."

and then something hits me as i hear the laughter of people in the living room...

"you know what's strange? you know what's really fucking strange? how when you're like this... everything can be so beautiful and intense... all the tiny things are so heightened and incredible... but here we are alone in this room, uncomfortable being around other people. unable to handle them. why is everything so beautiful, but the thought of being with other people just seems so completely disgusting right now? everyone is just too aggressive for me." i started to cry here. "why is everything amazing... but humanity just repulses me?"

tears are streaming now. he doesn't know what to say.

"let's not talk about this anymore."

that's what he says.