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my mother

Jun. 15th, 2009 | 07:45 pm

 call me ungrateful, but the difficulties with my mother are getting too hard to bear. her vindictive grip on me has become physical; now i'm experiencing severe digestive issues and often find myself unwilling to eat or easily losing my appetite. yesterday i had one meal, and today i've had only my lunch and at quarter to eight i haven't thought about my dinner.
i've lost five pounds. 
and as i listen to her chiding and peeved as she lectures my twin, i can't help but feel that anxiety twang in my stomach and stir up more intestinal upset.

( i never did eat my dinner. and it got really bad this morning, i thought i was going to puke after a bowl of cereal. i think my body's torn between complaining about no food, and rejecting the food that i'm putting in. i can't win )

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Jun. 14th, 2009 | 04:04 pm

 my mum moved my old desk back in my room, and it's completely ruined my feng shui.
now i feel even more displaced.

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November 12th, 1980 (4:05 pm)

Jun. 14th, 2009 | 11:40 am
music: The Bachelor (album) - Patrick Wolf

 Dear Joanne-Bob,

I know I'se a bad little nigger (as you would so nicely put it) in not having written to you, but I am also suffering culture shock due to the return to school. I hate it!!!!! It drives me bananas! When I read your letter I sensed an aura of extreme depression and longing for the good old days of sinuses plugged with rib breading, that damn stupid bell, the imported ice water, Grande glasses and pinball games! I nearly cried (not really, but it was close!) when I read your letter. 
The other reason I didn't write, and you can whoop ma bum off, bread da succa in da breading machine, and deep fry it like our mammies do gritz, is because I lost all my addresses. I know you're probably thinking, "Isn't it just like that chicken brain to do something so stupid!!" I is so-o-o embarrassed!
OH!!! I've got BIG news for you!!! Last weekend, my brother and I were working and when we came in for work early Sunday morning, the Police were there. (are you getting excited??) When we got inside, all the waitresses were all standing around this big fat cop-man there. Betty came up to me and whispered (as if no-one knew what was going on!) "We were robbed last night." I freaked right outa my booties!!! Ali came up and she was just a little upset because John was in Ireland and would be home in three days and he'd have kittens! (maybe even twin frog legs) Ali hadn't planned on coming in on Sunday, but was going to go shopping in Oakville. She decided though to stop in and get some extra money out of the vault just in case she ran out of money in Oakville. She puttered around in the office and after a few minutes she turned around to open the safe, but it was gone! (the tension is mounting!!)
Ali had a couple coronaries, three fits, a small relapse, and shit her drawers. She was afraid the robbers were still inside with her.
Anyways, the safe was found on the back porch by the quiet corner, all the floats were empty, (even Mrs. Fogg's float!) everything in the office had been looked through, the candy counter had been pillaged and they drank some draft beer.
We weren't allowed to touch anything, so Blair and I did maintenance at Ali's. When we got back, the police had found lots of finger prints, took lots of pictures, even pictures inside the safe and were asking a lot of questions. My brother was their number one suspect because he had been the last person in the restaurant Saturday night. (he had been washing dishes) When Blair was leaving, Betty asked if he'd rather wait inside before my Dad came to pick him up or stay outside. He chose the latter, and it's lucky he did, because if he had been waiting inside, he could have let anyone in and he would have been in poop up to his eyeballs!! It turned out the the burglar-bobs busted in the window over the draft machine in The Foggy Bottom and went to the back door and let some more people in.
Besides the robbery, everything was pretty run-of-the-mill Foggy, if you can relate, man.
I'm going crazy now because I have to get ready for university and I haven't even written my first term exams yet! I'm so confused as to what's going on and I don't even know what I want to be! I'm just a little kid! Why is the system picking on me like this?? I'se a gonna go way down South to Dixie where da cotton is fluffy, da Mississippi washes yo feet and da gritz am yummy!! I'se a'goin back to Tara, where da air is clean, Missy Scahletts a bitch and where I can work my little salve ass of scrubbin' dem magnolia trees till dey shine like my pearly white teeth!! (...Look away, Look away, Dixie Land.) I don't think I don't think I put in enough "Look away's" in my homeland Southy song. Can you tell I'm goin' nuts?? What you say, succa??
I'm hungry, so I'se a'goin to fry me up some chittlins and I be back with you soon, y'all hang on fo a minute, hear???

Okay. I'se back now. I was only gone for about five minutes so don't get mad and hit me with your secret recipe coleslaw. I'm not making any sense, and I also didn't make chittlins, but I'm eating a bowl of chocolate ice cream. Mmmmmmmmmmmm
I just read through your letter and you said to say hi to dumb ol' Glen and Dave, "if he still exists." I see Glen at lot at school and my brother sometimes hangs around with him, but Dave who was going to another school, has quit school altogether and is working in a printing company. I think that he's learning to set type, but I'm not sure. I haven't seen him since the summer. 
More Fogg's news!! (which you probably already know!)
Julie, 'member her?, she quit Fogg's, Penny quit, Brad quit and the no-mind (Gord) got the boot. Actually, he wasn't fired, but Ali hasn't given him hours for three weeks! I thought that was neat! He's such a dink, with a captial D.
I have included the order slip from the second last meal of the enitre summer season of 1980. Isn't that nostalgic? I know you'll sleep with against your heart and carry it with you always! Ha!Ha!
The Following is a breift summary of my life since Thanksgiving:
I was going to go to London and Paris, but when one is saving for one's education, one can't even afford a bus trip to the nearest Goodwill Drop Box.  To contradict what I just typed, I bought another suit, a stereo, The Monks: Bad Habits , Allen Parsons Pyramid, I also taped a bunch of Super Tramp albums (the albums bring back memories of inappropriate dinner music in the Foggy Bum), I bought lots of clothes and other stuff for school.
Friday night was my Commencement for grade twelve and a bunch of us went out drinking after. I work every other weekend at Fogg's and my exams are next week. I haven't started Christmas shopping and if I'm lucky I'll forget. I still can't eat lemons like you can and one day in the school cafeteria, I bought a pizza that had green stuff on it and I was not amused. (It wasn't parsley, green onion or green pepper either, because school pizzas only have cheese and pepperoni which look like big scabs!) I went to a Halloween dance as an Arabian shiek and I nearly got busted by a policeman! I don't know why?? I wasn't drunk stoned... or anything like that, but he kept poking me with his club or whatever the hell you call those things and kept calling me Ahab or Abdul! I bet he was gay and trying to get under my robers!! I just kept telling him to back off or I'd cut off his oil supply and sick my camel on him. I think I was also bugging him, because I was about a foot taller than him and I was wearing mirror glasses so he couldn't see my eyes which has a tendency to bother people. I had this teacher in grade eight who'd whip out the old mirror glasses when she was pissed off and you couldn't tell who she was watching and after half an hour of old eagle eyes you'd do anything to get out of that class!!
I'm really glad you wrote, because now I have your address and can write (type, scribble, print, and colour with my Crayolas) to you.
Hope to hear from you soon,
Love and chicken breading,

turns out my mum had a gay friend in her teenage years.
she was going to throw the letter out, but I got such a laugh out of it, I told her I wanted it. 
i have the second last order card and everything.

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Jun. 13th, 2009 | 02:51 pm


i don't know what's stopping me from letting go

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(no subject)

Jun. 10th, 2009 | 10:06 pm
music: Don't Save Us From The Flames - M83


more to come, photobucket is being a piece of shit.

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Jun. 9th, 2009 | 10:19 pm
music: Theseus - Patrick Wolf

 This is the hard part about Patrick Wolf. I love him with all my heart. I love his comfortable attitude with his sexuality, I love his eccentric and dominant fashion sense, I love the way he rambles importantly during an interview and doesn't censor his thoughts. I love the way he performs just as well live as he does on record, and most of all I love the intricate magic and dedication that wraps together his album into one solid, concrete thought. I deeply and soulfully appreciate the amount of detail that goes into the writing of each song, regardless of how much it manages to reach between my ribs and touch my heart. It can still overwhelm me with how amazing the sheer composition is. 
But the problem is that while I'm taking all this in, this intoxicating scent of busking and classical training, stirred by folklore and personal loss and gain, I lose myself. I lose what I know best, which is my own writing. I listen to Patrick and I lose myself. I listen to Patrick and I cannot write, quite simply, because it dawns on me that my talent pales into sheer wishfulness in the presence of this writing, and my attempts are nothing more than that and will never be. I long to be Patrick on that stage, and he pulls every creative bone from my body without even knowing (obviously not). It's so hard, because I love him with all my heart, but he steals away everything we have in common the instant his voice reaches my ears. 
And yet I can't stop listening.

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was your work of art so heavy that it would not let you live?

Jun. 9th, 2009 | 10:10 pm
music: The Sun Often Comes Out - Patrick Wolf

Tower bridge is closing
And all of Bermondsey's asleep
Street light walk the waters
Rising fast and dark and deep
Was your work of art so heavy that it would not let you live?
You'll be missed

Soon there'll be flowers in the river,
Tears being shed,
You'll be missed.

You'll be missed.

So life has blessed you with a gift boy,
That you've gone and thrown away
And with it your whole future
and left behind your family

They're throwing flowers in the river
Prayers are being said, you are missed.

They're throwing flowers in the river
Where your body cold was found, you are missed.


Now I sit down here at low tide,
And I wait for the Peregrines.
Stephen, this is where i live now,
And I have overcome my demons.
I have grown out of that thinking
that would not let me live
or give.

I throw my flowers in the river
The tears have been shed, you are missed

and the poem reads, I remember the days, they told me that the sun, the sun, the sun, the sun is often out.

Why didn't you know that the sun, the sun, the sun, the sun is often out.
I wish I'd known you better
The sun, the sun, the sun, the sun is often out.

Was your work of art so heavy, that it would not let you live? 

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i feel like writing instrumentals for a little while

Jun. 7th, 2009 | 01:13 am
music: The End - Sarah Blyth

 here's an idea that reminds me of twilight. i felt like it was the chapter entitled "The End" in New Moon, where Bella is lying alone in the forest. Edward has just removed himself from Bella's life to try and give her a better one without him, and she loses all will to move or live, unable to move from the forest floor for hours. It sounds dismal, but it's touching.
I hope you feel the soft, haunting inspiration of Chopin in this piece


can't you just imagine this scene with this music playing? i hope so...

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Late night thoughts

Jun. 6th, 2009 | 01:41 am

As I lie here listening to the ringing of silence that emanates from the bronzed lightposts outside my window, I am reminded of a rusty nail. I imagine its crusted, black-and-orange chips encircling the convex grooves that wrap themselves in specific sizes around its waist. I envision it lying stray and alone on the floor of my grandparents barn - that is the only barn I can imagine - and I can picture the swelling darkness that pulsates just past this image. I immediately am reminded of trees, and the rings signifying age hidden inside each billowing trunk. A car slides by in the night, and disturbs my thoughts. There is no way to describe its sound because I do not care to do so, but its building and fading noise reminds me of the stalled wind that plucks at my hair when I walk through the path of a just-passed vehicle. How the wind takes its sweet unexpected time before breathing in my face, and I am always anticipatory and yet never fully prepared.

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decided to do it again

Jun. 3rd, 2009 | 05:55 pm

I haven't done this in years... I'm sorry to be so vain and arrogant. I tried to make it more arsty, less me.


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