journ...

journ- ALISM? journ -Y? Je sais pas. These are the best of the bunch:

I watched a really old lady sitting on the plane today. I stared at the lines on her hands, the wrinkles on her face, the glass eyed expression as she peered above the clouds. I almost was tempted to ask her about her life. To just reach over the little Japanese girl in between us & jostle her in the arm, asking her if she has truly lived...

I have been here a week. It seems like forever. Not forever, actually. But I have felt every moment of these last seven days wear heavy on my bones. I have done everything, and nothing. I feel as if I am not of my own skin. I have boundless freedoms, yet I am confined by my own sense of loss & dislocation. I have not been challenged like this in quite some time. It has driven me to become a caffeine addicted, narcoleptic, irregular, stoner sex-fiend with a Martha Stewart complex.

-------------------------------------------------------------I am not going to sleep tonight.
I wonder if it is too early to put on a pot of coffee for myself. I could sit & write all night if I had to. The eerie, fake light casting upon my skin in the darkness of this little room with no windows, in the middle of Montréal. ---------------------------

Pisces: 
Different people measure success on different scales, and you should make sure that you don't get discouraged if your accomplishment of the day seems minuscule compared to what others have done in the same period. Constantly comparing yourself to others will make it difficult for you to ever feel like you are getting anywhere. Someone else will always have done more. Be content with whatever you do today - even if it is as simple as getting out of bed on time.

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The danger of this room is that it can be daylight outside and I am none the wiser. Instead I lie in the darkness, unaware that I have missed the dawn. I want to be a creature of day, and not of the night. I feel like I am actually living life when I take in all the hours at their fullest. I may disconnect & work in the kitchen. I have decided that coffee was inevitable

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“Sleeping is giving in. no matter what the time is.
Sleeping is giving in. so lift those heavy eyelids.
People say that you die faster than without water
But we all know that’s just a lie
To scare your sons & scare your daughters ”

I saw an arcade fire member in my depanneur today, which was fucking cool.

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Dick,
So, apparently Myspace isn't working at the moment.
This alone has abstained me from writing you a fevered, five in the morning comment about the utter, bewildering disappointment I find in harry potter & his ultimate anticlimactic curtain call.

She should have just finished it. Just killed it: a nice, clean ending. Good trumping evil, Harry announcing that he has 'had enough trouble for a lifetime'. Period. End of story. That was awesome.

But no. Oh, no. Rowling didn't have the sense to lay down her fucking pen.

Seriously, what is up with the 19 years later epilogue?? It is nothing but STUPID copulation, nuclear family values & name dropping.... big fucking deal he named his kid albus severus; stupidest fucking thing ever. So fucking cliche. You’re dead to me, j.k. Thanks for warning me about this shit Rich, I had a vague idea this melodramatic trite was coming....
So. It is five am & I am so livid I cannot sleep. I left a fucking party to get this shit done. Ugh. What a waste.
I'm glad I have my life back. fu-ck,

--- SUBTEXT TO THE NOSE WHO KNOWS: I would love your permission to post the reply to this email, it is hilarious.

-----------------------makewayforthegeniustoappear. August 18, 2007.

Tu es une belle dame. I cannot think of any other flattering French to impress you with at the moment, nor of any poignant lyrics to delicately render you to the understanding of my mood or disposition.

Right now my room mate & her live in partner have left for the library, using the jargon of babytalk common amongst newly established couples who’ve come to sudden understanding that, though they have made newly established vows, the honeymoon is over. A cold wind blows through our house & I lie sprawled upon my air mattress, adorned with vintage sheets, and cling to my Mac like it was a life preserver in stormy waters. Morrison is howling to me from the grave while the church bells toll outside my bedroom… Though there is something in the air that is coldly nipping the curtail of summer & my roommate has a free loading ‘husband’ that is sort of difficult to live with, I am thoroughly enjoying every moment I am spending here. It is an abject & completely different existence than any I have ever known. Those workweeks you mention feel a thousand lifetimes away, but are remembered with a big sigh & a melancholy fondness - Monday felt especially strange. Know that the light at the end of the tunnel is mere moments away, my dear, so don’t lose heart or burn out or cop out too* badly on friends you will eventually end up missing desperately… once the point of departure comes, when the reality of the moment ultimately sinks in, whatever is to follow becomes entirely up to you, which is a totally liberating and totally daunting in equal measure. I think that there should be some sort of government-funded shelter for people whose lives have been previously quelled in haste to come down in. It seems completely abnormal, disoriented and estranged to be the unemployed master of my own accord. My goings and comings are completely at whatever whim I choose to follow, and this newly sovereign state I have found has done wonders for my mental state. I’ll tell you: I am indeed writing. Constantly, Candidly, Consumptively. I try everything. I am branching out in all directions: Reading. Collecting. Scrapping. Thrifting. Blogging. Breathing. Jogging. Making. Dreaming. Thinking. Living. Finally. Everything. Nothing. Time. But the scary fact remains: I most certainly have not* yet found my niche, whatever it may be. I have been dipping my toe into this new life, instead of plunging headfirst…

& I don’t know why I underestimated the French in my lofty plan of migration, but I must have; the culture shock has shaken me up, full throttle. I can’t believe we’re in the same country, sometimes. I was really discouraged for the first while. You can get by in Montreal with nothing but English but the point remains that I don’t want to. It is very patronizing when you attempt to order a tea in French but they answer you in English… & I know, too, that this will come with time. What, I’ve been here eight days?? I’ll figure it out. I’ll find a good class. My fingers are crossed & my heart is promising. I just bought an agenda. Plus my first week was unrealistic & is certainly NOT an accurate reality of how life is going to be here.

I’m sorry to disappoint, but the boring report remains: no scandals, no lovers. My roommates tease me that a bunch of their guy friends want to take me out … but…I don’t know. I want to get to know MYSELF; that was the point of this exodus. One reason anyways. & The other, you ask? Scorned Woman Syndrome: so I’m not about to jump into anybody’s pants. It has to be love; this is what I have resolved after all that pain & bicycle trouble. Plus. I fall in ‘love’ daily. J’check du monde. Everywhere.

Speaking of love: Your words, my dear. Your words! They rendered me plunging into homesickness for moments at a time, in complete understanding of our town’s biggest blessing & blemish. The mini Mecca of three degrees. Well, you wouldn’t think so, but I miss parts of it with every ember of my body sometimes. The open canopy of trees and endless, forever moving skies. Veggie burgers. Bike rides. The escalators at the UofW. The hub of the Exchange. Random hangouts. McMillan Avenue. The roof of my parents’ house. Being a neighbor. I know better than anyone that redundancy, paints the town as boring, but I saw someone shoot up down my street the other night & instantly the bubble was broken; I looked around without stars in my eyes. The city skyline is marred by smog. The endless sidewalks are sprinkled with broken glass & stained with piss. It is beautiful, yes. It is metropolitan, yes. It is in-the-moment, trendy, fast paced, exciting, yes. But it is also desperate, polluted, cold & I am ultimately alone. I don’t know how to explain. I don’t have the words-------------

This is monstrous. Honestly. I know that English students usually access an understood ‘get-out-of-rambling-free’ card by vocation alone, but you must have had it with this letter already. I’m going to finish this mother:

Tu. Me. Manques: I see the essence of you at random. You are on my mind, you are in this town. A friendship like yours is a treasure. I am certain it will grow as we do - uniquely with time, lived vicariously for the moment and then picked up like none have passed at all. I am looking forward to our next meeting, though there is no way to tell when it will be or what we both will have been through when it comes. You remind me of the value in a neighborhood, and of living authentically - with spirit. I have realized upon departure that I do not thank my friends enough for the gifts that they give to me, nor do tell them I love them as copiously as I should: Thank you. I love you.

So? It is lit, my friend, the fire has started….I will feast on you come spring.
Affectueusement, ma belle kindred, Yours forever. Loco.---