Ineffable Soldier

And then goodbye

Brave man
boy inside the eyes
cherished glimpse of soul

Awkward, desperate, hungry
Comfort-care, bodies mold together
Too foreign still to interpret

And then alone

Fate to term
Termed to fate

Undone By My Tongue

You know you need to get a life when 4/7 nights a week you have a dream about the people in one of the blogs you haunt and feel more alive by somehow being part of their world.

Three days left in this city.
This was the greatest adventure that I have had in 8 years, and it kicked my ass.
I am getting old, and by that; less adaptable to the chaos without an island of foundation to cling to.

I could go outside.. but it is cold, and my bus pass expired, and there is beer here;
I have decided to become a ragging alcoholic for the next 3 days, so I can avoid all higher levels of thought.

I am drinking a beer called Taiga.

It is from a little town in Quebec called Amos, which is supposed to have the best tasting water in north america.. maybe even the world...who knows; something to do with sand.

Anyways, the story behind the beer is fun.
Apparently a Belgium brewer moved to Quebec and set up shop in this town with amazing water to make the perfect mariage of beer creation- the end.

It is very decent.

Now this is the stuff that knocked my socks off

But I am very partial to fruit beers.
This stuff could make my cocktail-drinking girlfriends start to like beer.
Thankfully, this site:

www.alberta-liquor-guide.com

told me that i can actually find it in 4 locations in Edmonton.
Hello new favorite beer.

I also recently tried this:

It is good.... too good.
But seriously, who wants to pay $12 for one beer...
Ok, I would do it again.

I guess one of the few things, on the very short list of things, that is not terrible about leaving, is that the province I happened to have been born in, and that i now have to go back to with my tail between my legs, has a private alcohol market and a large variety of alcohols available.

In other ground breaking news:

My tongue has been annoyingly apparent for about a month.
After the preliminary panic of emminant death, disease, and a fear of the general crisis of rotting, and, when my body didnt naturally make it go away like it would eventually kick to the curb any type of weird cold virus, I did some internet reading.

This is NEVER usually a good idea for a normal person let a lone a slight-hypochondriac, but i stumbled upon some literature about tongues and a lack of vitamin B12 and iron.
Being that I have been an extra bright shade of white lately (so pointed out my roommate-x-lover) and that I havent eaten dead cow for about 10 years, I was able to put 2 and 2 together, oh so sherlock holmes-style.

I guess clams are somehow high in iron, and my roommate had a stash of CHINEESE canned baby clams sitting in his pantry.
Please agree with me that it seems somehow OH SO WRONG for these clams to be from China, and i felt dirty as I devoured them.
But, my tounge stopped bugging the next morning- and so there it was.

So, as I for no strongly adamant reason discontinued eating dead cow, i now, for a superbly adamant reason, could not get the idea of this pink flesh out of my head.
I set out to the grocery store to search out a peice of organic dead cow's flesh.
I figured at least this way i could have the merey little picture of happy cows dancing in my head and I ate them.
I settled for an organic meat lazagna.
I ate it: and I felt satisified, and horrified, and warm, and heavy.

Another sad semi-vegitarian is corrupted and undone by her tounge.

Sweeney Todd

How could there ever before be a musical-slasher before this combination? My mind is still reeling! I'm just glad they kept the original singing in the french version we saw.

Fuck You

Fuck You Impulse disguised as Instinct
Fuck You The Shallow Penis
Fuck You Failed Love
Fuck You Failed Experience






Fuck You Something Is Learned
Fuck You The Sad Departure
Fuck You The New Beginning







Fuck You The Committee of Self-Censorship
Fuck You Anxiety
Fuck You Fear
Fuck You Submission







Fuck You Naivety
Fuck You Uncertainty
Fuck You Reality
Fuck You Debt








Fuck You Cruel, Seductive Hope

Persepolis Trailer (HD)

Just saw this at Le Clap. Really touching story; simple but beautiful graphics... informative and moving. Me liked!

Hate that is an Act in a Life of Satire and Hilarity

Sensitive elation to the disruption I cause you
My candor is grand

Symphonic typhoon
Your body shakes with its furry
Detached fascination.

The always-conclusion:
Convalescent Rejoinder
Convulsed Truth

Snail without its shell:
Focused-burden of shelter
Course nexus of flesh:
Lost in the obsession of composure

Still observed
Essence Reflected
Distorted comprehension
Percipience-Still

Motherfuckin Mini-Paris of America: At Least It's Not Outright Contempt

Hey!

Yeah, you.

So I've taken on the real-life-social-experimental-adventure of moving to a city where I've gotten the chance to start at "Go" with some odds already stacked up against me.

First off, lets define a recent addition to our repertory of language.

That word would be: Xenophobic

That definition: an unreasonable fear or hatred of foreigners or strangers or of that which is foreign or strange.

OK, so I know that this sort of outlook did/does/shall exist, but never did I imagine that on any given day, there would be a 3/4 chance of observing this phenomenon up close and personal;
oh no, not to me, not in this town.

No longer would I take for granted that the arduous attempt of conjuring up a second language would elicit curiosity, warmth, engagement;
oh no, not to me, not in this town...not in this country...not in this language.

And so, without presupposition,
I feel no longer like voyageur;
no longer like wanderer;
I feel now, in fact, that which can be defined only as, with all resounding stereotype, that word which is:

immigrant

1. A person who leaves one country to settle permanently in another.
2. A plant or animal that establishes itself in an area where it previously did not exist.

Native Country,
Oxymoronic Province,
Motherfuckin Mini-Paris of America

I love it.

Bigger than Myself is Somtimes Hard to Bring into Focus

I wanna, kinda, sorta just.... flow
Through every pore, eyesballs, fingertips, the breath that leaves my lips;
let it spread out from the core and touch everything

Eyes meet and i wont look away.
I will look into you and see you; nothing will be hidden.
Then you will talk; clarity shattered.
I will, look away.

The rain brings everything together.
Chemicals melt down my face
Unknown liquid substance soaks up my legs
Dilapidated decorum

Then there is snow.
Thunder and lightning and snow

Anything can happen

Moments of Small Scattered Joy That Are, In Fact, My Happiness

I always get myself into completely absurd situations; an old habit of circling the fringes of expectation, elongating arousal through deliberate chaos.
My new sejour is no exception.
The past month I have gone through my whole repetoire of emotion.

I feel more alive than I have in years.

There is winter rain here.
It's warm, and leaves craters in the snow.

A mist has been hovering in the city.
Morning until night there is only a soft white blur: no sun, no buildings;
pieces emerge only bit by bit, swallowed again with passing.

I am a vaccuum terrorist