Touch Down

My own worst enemy.
Instincts dormant.
Caught in a dream fabricated of shoulds.



Irony of Life
Resolution amalgamates,
Ideals fade.

The Longest Line

Searching in the noise, the movement, the colour.



It's always been in the silence.



Days of nothing.
Moments of incandescence.



Is the blossom only ever in the bloom?

Frantic little things.

Douce, small, quiet little thing

She became Bella

Insatiable, wild, maniacle little thing.

The little games

So long i don't even remember how to use the language

Sativa is shaved... she looks silly... like a lion who got half way through a bad buzz cut before she ate the groomer

So once again i am "learning". I think i finally started to recognize that my style of learning is somewhere along the lines of holding this new blanket of information at arms length, a cringe on my face, waiting on the slow track as it seeps into my pores. Never been comfortable diving with my eyes open.

Back to basics. Same mistakes, new players.

I know you're there and only to spite my own face do i bluntly ignore you.

At peace with this silence.... well, silence filled with inanimate comfort and noice; but at least im not scared of the front door anymore.

"Inside" appears to be working out. Outside, on the other hand, is still a shift in gears to high alert status. Eyes wide open, senses maxed; very tiring.

I never liked keeping things constantly clean because i always took pleasure in the contrast; joy from the act of cleaning something and seeing the change of what it was to what it became.

The other day, in a room full of 15 people, i sat among them and, as if it were any normal-day activity, we proceeded to spit into test tubes until they were about 2 finger widths full. We then spun down our spit, boiled it, and prepared it to be frozen.

I know i am on the right career path when i find this act hilarious, and (totally unrelated) the thought of chasing a locker thief down the hall with a culture of Shigella makes me want to roll around on the floor laughing....

.... just saying :D

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.