another line to remember

"Tell me the truth, how long until I find myself
throwing the dog's full bowl of water across the kitchen again,
because you moved on with your life and I stayed heavy-footed
in the linoleum, stupid, trying to resuscitate the broken mop.

[...]

What if I told you I wouldn't want to have an affair with her
unless she slurred and spilled her drink on the edge of my filthy bed,
or if it ever happened, that I licked the librarian's salty back,
I'd still call you afterwards that same night,
tell you to meet me for a drink somewhere,
in some smoky, lonely palace?"

- Ali Liebgott, "The Beautifully Worthless"



it's for a friend who knows what it's like to hear your own sobs echo through the empty hallway, who knows life is an empty box until you fill it with whatever you can and paint it whatever colour you want.

i like that at first, you read "in some smoky, lonely place." but then you find out it's a palace. and it's more lonely because it's bigger and it's empty and it echos so that you hear your loneliness and desperation bouncing back to you over and over again.

The moment when "Infinite Jest" finally began to make sense to me

"No one single instant of it was unendurable. Here was a second right here: he endured it. What was undealable-with was the thought of all the instances all lined up and stretching ahead, glittering. [...] He could just hunker down in the space between each heartbeat and make each heartbeat a wall and live in there. Not let his head look over. What's unendurable is what his own head could make of it all. What his head could report to him, looking over and ahead and reporting. But he could choose not to listen; he could treat his head like G. Day or R. Lenz: clueless noise. He hadn't quite gotten this before now, how it wasn't just the matter of riding out the cravings for a Substance: everything unendurable was in the head, was the head not Abiding in the Present but hopping the wall and doing a recon and then returning with unendurable news you then somehow believed."

- David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

Books I'm Reading For Pleasure Fuck You University

No One Belongs Here More Than You, by Miranda July

Alessia lent this to me in approximately 2009 and I loved it very much, and recently I realized that I don't have my own copy so I bought it and now I'm rereading it and I still love it the end.


A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again, by David Foster Wallace

This summer I read Infinite Jest and Girl With Curious Hair and part of Brief Interviews With Hideous Men before getting kicked out of the bookstore/cafe where I was reading for free without purchasing anything "this is not a library" alright anyways basically I want to read everything by DFW.


The Broom of the System, by David Foster Wallace

I'm kind of stuck on this one because I started reading it in September/October and then got caught up with school and haven't picked it up again since. But I think about it a lot. I'm sending it good vibes.


Sorry, Tree, by Eileen Myles

I read Inferno and a lot of Eileen Myles' poetry online, but I didn't have any of her books, so I bought one, and now I'm reading it. It's difficult, but good. I like it. I'm into it.


Shenzhen: A Travelogue from China, by Guy Delisle

My dad got me this graphic novel for my birthday and I'm reading it slowly, but enjoying it a lot. Its humour lies in its accuracy.

only slightly alternate

nowadays i only ever get drunk on weekdays

and only ever on white wine

i bought at the supermarket for $6.99

i only ever think of a million different people

i've seen that week, some faces more than others

some faces i couldn't get enough of

i only ever think of an only slightly alternate

reality

no one ever shits or blows their nose

it's an open concept loft apartment with a double bed

nowadays i only ever get drunk

i only ever think of all the books i'm going to read

in your open concept loft apartment with a double bed

Lonely Planet Dot Com

This is where I try to explain why I'm leaving and fail because I come back every day. Also I have an important question to ask you.

++

Hello. As you can see, despite telling you that I am on a hiatus, I am here writing words and you are here reading them. I want to tell you why I decided to take a "hiatus" but I have a problem: I don't know why. You see, I made the decision on a whim. Howevs, I think there are actual reasons inside of me and I'm going to attempt to explain them while I still have your attention.

One of the main reasons, actually, is that my blog feels really sad. This is a really sad place for me, and maybe you can see that sometimes when I write sad things and it's awkward and you don't know what to say and maybe you want to say something or maybe you just want me to stop. When I look at it, I see my sadness reflected back at me. And it's sort of like looking at a mirror when you haven't looked at a mirror for a long time. I recognize myself but it's still kind of shocking. Conor Oberst said: "I'm not surprised, but I never feel quite prepared."

It feels very self-centered. And a blog is totally self-centered. This is a place to write about myself and have a bunch of people read it and talk about me and how well or badly I write. memememe. Sometimes that's okay, but right now I really want to talk to other people. I want other people to talk to me. Instead my feelings get sent into a cybervoid.

++

If you haven't yet surmised from previous posts, I'm going through a super shitty time right now. Despite everything currently being amazing, everything also sucks. You know?

I don't know how to say this, I don't know how to talk about it: my girlfriend broke up with me and I have sad feelings in that area of my heart.

Stephen Dunn said: "I wanted everything or not enough. It was all my fault."

Riese said: "I stood next to someone wearing your perfume, and it made me miss you."

Cat Power said: "I will miss your heart so tender, and I will love this love forever."

++

I want to talk directly to your eyeballs right now. I wish I could name you so that you would know that I am talking to you. I wish we could make eye contact. I'm talking to you, reader. Really. I want to talk to you about things. I want to show you my christmas lights because I think you would like them. I want you to come look for used bookstores with me because I think it would be fun. Sometimes I just like to look at the spines of books. I want to cook you dinner because I'm getting better at cooking and I think that you are the kind of person who would eat my not-so-amazing food. And I don't think you would mind eating on the floor because I don't have a dining table. I want to go to the museum of fine arts with you because I have a pass and it lets me take a friend for free and I want you to be my friend. I want to go see Howl with you and I wouldn't even mind paying because that's how much I like you and also how badly I want to see Howl. I want to write you paper letters. I want to walk up Mount Royal with you because the view is pretty and totally worth it. And maybe I will put my arm around you because even though I don't really like touching, I think you're kind of comfortable. And sometimes it feels good.

I want to ask you things. I want to ask you: how do you do it? What do you do when you are lonely as fuck? And it hurts to be you? And you feel trapped inside your own mind but you know you must keep being you because there is no other person to be? How do you deal with everything all the time? I am really asking you. This is not a rhetorical question. I want to hear from you. How do you cure loneliness?

I want to try and write in my blog at least once a week. But I also want to try a lot of things. I guess, in my own weird way, I'm asking you to help me. And I know that's kind of vague, but like, maybe you could be vague right back. I don't know. If there's something you want to say, I guess this is the time to say it. Maybe you could give me some dinner recipes.

A friend of mine said: "All I want to do is go crazy and have so much fun and have things be perfect like that, but I just feel really fucking sad."

Pretty Books About Nothing

"No man is an island; entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away to sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee."

- John Donne, Meditation XVII

Instead of making us all read the same book, my grade 11 teacher let us pick our own books for our assignment. I had already been reading For Whom the Bell Tolls so I figured I might as well continue. I had picked it up off his bookshelf because of the title; it was part of a quote my mom had written down once. I'd heard of Ernest Hemingway before but never knew much about him, so I didn't know what to expect. It didn't (read: doesn't) help that I know nothing about the Spanish civil war and so most of the historical aspects were lost on me.

For Whom The Bell Tolls was unlike any book I had ever read before. I wasn't sure if there was a point to the story. The dialogue that was realistic but most authors would have edited it out. It was like Hemingway wasn't creating a story, it was like he was there writing everything that happened. That style was new to me.

I wasn't sure I liked the book. It seemed to go against everything I had learned about editing. The night before my assignment was due I stayed up late and wrote my first stream of consciousness. It was about death, inspired by the title of a piece of art called "The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living". My teacher gave me 100%. It was a piece of crap.

I thought it was over, after that. I hadn't disliked the book, but I hadn't loved it either. I wasn't rushing to start reading Hemingway's other stuff. But it stuck with me somehow. I thought about it for 3 years, sporadically. Every once in a while I would think about the John Donne quote, the one featured in For Whom the Bell Tolls. Then, this school year, in my literature and culture class we read 100 Years of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez). Not that the books are similar in any way, but there's a character in 100 Years named Pilar, which happens to be the name of one of the main characters in For Whom the Bell Tolls. It was just a minor coincidence, but it made me want to give Hemingway another chance. So, for my birthday, I asked for an Ernest Hemingway book. They got me two: The Sun Also Rises, and A Farewell to Arms.

The Sun Also Rises
About 1/3 of the way through this book I began to worry that it was about something and I was missing the point. It probably is about something and I am missing the point. There are a lot of things that happen and I don't think they mean anything but it's nice to read about Paris and Spain. At one point the narrator, Jake, blatantly states "that had nothing to do with the story". It's funny because it seems like nothing has anything to do with the story.

I like The Sun Also Rises because it's a very pretty story. First of all, it seems like nobody ever works. Instead they drink and have sex and go on vacation to Spain where there's a giant fiesta happening. Secondly, Lady Brett Ashley and Jake Barnes are two really awesome characters. I believe that's all you need to make a good story. I want someone to make this book into a movie because it would just be perfect. Imdb says someone did make a movie in 1957 and it looks terrible, I think someone should remake it starring Charlize Theron and Matt Damon.

"Oh, Jake," Brett said, "we could have had such a damned good time together."

"Yes," I said. "Isn't it pretty to think so?"

Anyways, I haven't read A Farewell to Arms yet. Probs gonna read it on the train to New York. I did read another book though, it was also about nothing. But it was more about nothing than The Sun Also Rises.

Shoplifting From American Apparel by Tao Lin

Like The Sun Also Rises, I wasn't sure if this book was about nothing. So I asked Riese because she's smart.

Me: You read 'Shoplifting From American Apparel" right? It's not about anything is it?

Riese: No, it's not about anything at all.

It made me want to write a book because I write things that have no point too. There isn't even a moral to Shoplifting From American Apparel. Maybe the moral is if you do two days of community service they'll erase your record after 6 months so you should always do two days of community service.

Here is an excerpt from Shoplifting From American Apparel:

A few days later Sam met Kaitlyn in Williamsburg to go to the annual work party for the organic vegan restaurant where he worked. Kaitlyn had a "Synergy" brand kombucha in her jacket pocket. She said she dropped it earlier and it made a very loud noise and people looked at her. "Drop it now," said Sam. "No," said Kaitlyn. Sam tried to take the kombucha and it went further into Kaitlyn's jacket pocket. "I can't get it, why is it sliding away," said Sam. "Stop trying to grab my kombucha," said Kaitlyn laughing. A few minutes later Sam gained control of Kaitlyn's kombucha and dropped it and it made a very loud noise.

Brb, have to go write a book.

P.S. Read both these novels.

I Need a 2010 Calendar and a Slice of Bread

For some reason I keep thinking today is Wednesday. I realized I forgot to do the music monday and that I have no concept of time because I'm on break. Yet I still have an English essay to write and I still have to register for next semester. Half the options I want to take are not available. The good news is that I passed science which means that I can graduate next semester granted I pass all my coming courses WHICH I WILL MARK MY WORDS. The terrifying thing is that I have to apply to university soon. The other day I got an email from UBC saying they were accepting undergraduate applications now. I am very scared. I told this to someone while also mentioning that I am scared of everything. Write this down, kids: telling someone you're afraid of everything is not impressive. It makes you look stupid.

Anyways, I'm completely mixed up. The cheery holiday music at work made me sad. This Matt Costa song that doesn't exist on the internet, All I Want For Christmas, came on and I felt all bummy because I was thinking about this person and so I crumpled a little inside. Why am I such a sucker? I don't know. I have things to do. I need to buy a calendar. I need to eat. My room is 5 degrees colder than the rest of the house. Last night my friends wanted to go out but I fell asleep on the bed. I think that means that sometimes I'm not very fun to be around.

So far this holiday season I've been a giant lump who has barely gone outside except to miss the bus or forget my wallet at home. I feel like a grandma because I can barely stay awake past 11. I'm having candy cravings but my teeth are probably going to disintegrate or something. I hate living in the West Island. I'm not buying people Christmas presents. I told my parents not to buy me presents and to tell the rest of the family not to buy me presents. I think I'm just going to buy myself a present. After all, I know what I want. What I do not want is a t-shirt or a sweater so please don't buy me those things. I need ankle socks but no one would think of buying that.

Tomorrow I'm going to do nothing except drink tea and read Ernest Hemingway.

Only Love is All Maroon

"So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard and we're gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that, because I want you. I want all of you, forever, you and me, every day."

- Noah, The Notebook

In the movies they have these bursting moments right before the end where everything sort of explodes and one person says they're so in love and they're here and waiting for the other person to decide. There's usually some sort of nice music and then they make out in the rain and everyone in the audience melts inside and wishes they could find love like that. Why doesn't everyone speak that romantically? Wouldn't it be nice if someone told you they've loved you for so long because of so and so reasons and you're so beautiful and the moon and the stars and love love love and how could you say no? How could you say no to a speech like that?

It's in the books too. I read books more than I watch movies. There's this moment in Pride and Prejudice when Mr. Darcy makes a confession to Elizabeth -- "In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

People like romantic movies because they want a piece of whatever those lovers have.

But as far as love confessions go, this isn't one.

This is a pseudo-love, sort of like, can't decide, think you're really cute anyway confession. I love you in that accidental way, the way I love everyone on the planet. I don't really like you at all. Just kidding, I do. I just want to pretend that I don't because apparently that works sometimes.

Anyways, this is just to tell you I think you're really cute. I'm not saying I want a relationship, I'm just saying that you have a nice face and you like to read, and that's okay with me. I like to read too.

So that's it. I'm letting you know, in case you were curious or something. This isn't a love confession so I suppose it's okay if I tell you that I think I like you. I mean, you're alright, I guess.

If You Want it to be Real Come Over For One Night and We Can Really, Really Climb

No attempt is made to explain away
the things that really, really, really, really, really are behind.
You can't hide.
- Okkervil River "For Real"

++

I found out on the metro, I mean -- I realized what I already knew -- that you're never going to call again. I figure that's okay, I guess. I tried/didn't try/didn't know what I was doing. But this is what I want you to know: no one knows what they're doing. It was my first time being born, my first time being 6, and 7, and 8, and feeling death -- my first time having a dead mother -- I don't know how to react -- does anyone? -- my first time in high school, first time learning the history of quebec, the geography of other people's bodies and mouths and hearts. It's my first time being 18, my first time living this day -- october 14th 2009 -- I'm never going to see this day again -- but how do I know what to do with it? So when I walked past you in the hall, so when I gave her that note, so when I avoided him on the way home; I was just living in my own weird way. I don't know if I'm doing it right. There's no instruction manual. I don't know if I should've said something else, or if this gets easier or more vivid. I don't think living gets easier, it just gets stranger. If I'm confusing it's because I'm confused.

I started reading the first couple of pages of this book and on page two I was told "love and ideals are not actually real". Oh, okay. I see it now.

Maybe it's because I have neither that I think this is untrue. Maybe I've read too many books, seen too many hollywood movies with romantic endings. Maybe I've been listening to too many songs that tell me love is the best sensation hiding in the lion's mane. I want love to be real, I need love to be real. I need ideals to be real because I idealize love in the worst way.

I slipped her a note in class, sat back and thought My life is a joke. After class she turned around, "Was this you who wrote this?"
Yes.
"Is this real?"

++

I'm just using you so I'll have a story to tell. So do your worst and I'll write my best. That's all I could ever hope for -- an experience so brilliant it will lift the words off the page. I'm running low on gas and I've kind of given up on you -- you, you'll never call. But now I'm asking you, come on, make it hurt! You're not killing me the way I want you to.

Come on, idealized love. I know you're real, I've felt you moving in me before.

And now I'm a walking contradiction. I wrote some days before -- notes in my phone -- But you're like, a real person. And I'm not. You're the kind of person who won't call back. And I'm not. I'll make you larger than you are. I'll write you into fiction, make you beautiful and smooth. But you're still real, you're just somebody else. I'm real too, but to other people. Maybe I passed you once before, before I knew you, and we slid by each other -- our worlds so close to touching -- your eyes straight, my head turned -- I didn't know you'd be real to me one day. Am I still outside your line?

++

I spend my days learning. I learn the curve of the hallways -- where the A wing is, the elusive F -- which bathrooms to use and when -- where to go when I'm alone -- and where to get on the metro so the doors open right in front of the stairs.

And when someone asks you if this is real, the answer is "Yes. Yes, of course it is." Because if this isn't real then I have nothing. If love isn't real then I -- we -- truly have nothing. You may call, or not. We might brush so close to each other again someday, maybe tomorrow. But I'll never have this day back, or that note, or this particular feeling walking home in a frustrated sorrow. I'll never be 6 again, or 7, or 8, my mom will never die again, I'll never be in high school for the first time. I'll learn new curves -- elbows and shoulders, lips -- meet other 'you''s and write other stories -- but I still won't know what I'm doing. It will still be the first time, it will still count, it will still be real. And I'll be here, taking notes.

Yes, this is real. This is very, very real.

I Love How We Go On

I made a video. It's not for anything in particular I just felt like making one. It took me 4 hours. Also it's called "Time" only because I wanted to put a shot of clocks in, the rest has nothing to do with 'time' and everything to do with 'music', 'reading', and 'toy story'.

Other things we need to discuss: Autostraddle's Fall Music Preview is up and Crystal and I (but mostly Crystal) talk about albums we are really excited for. So go read that.

I think that's it. Obvs I am going to remember something as soon as I press 'publish post'. WTVR WATCH MY VIDEO.

The song is "Lion's Mane" by Iron & Wine.

++

Sometimes I Write Stories Because It's More Fun Than Facing Reality

Once there was a girl who sat at the bottom of a tree reading a book. She had short brown hair with blonde in it. It might have been blonde with brown in it. It's possible that this girl is someone you know. It's possible that you know this story because this might have happened to your planet.

It could have been smallearth. It could have been China, if China was its own planet.

The day the girl sat under a tree the planet began to blow away. Imagine Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It was kind of like that. People wore goggles to protect their eyes but soon it was useless, like people wearing masks to ward off the swine flu. Yeah, the swine flu got everyone there too.

The earth swirled and fell away and the planet got smaller and smaller. People fell off and disappeared, they just disappeared into nothingness and we don't know where they went. Do you ever get confused about space because it's so huge? What exactly is it? Where is cyberspace? Is that where you go when you die?

The girl remained at the bottom of the tree reading her book. Chaos ensued around her. The earth was steadily shrinking. Bits of it were falling away at an alarming rate. She kept reading. Go on, ask what she was reading. It was a book called "Across the Universe" by The Beatles an anonymous author. You can look it up but you won't find the book she was reading. She was reading a non-existant book.

The earth was being shaved off, as if God was filing his planet nails. Everything just fucking blew away, just gone, just like that. Soon there was only a tree attached to a clump of dirt and a girl reading a non-existant book on it. She finished reading and stepped off the planet.

What happens now? Everything I love is gone.

Great Expectations & High Fidelity

Yesterday I finished High Fidelity. Today I'm going to talk about it. I like to do these posts with three books so I'm also going to talk about The Scarlet Letter and Great Expectations. There are lots of links in this introduction. I'm confused because I started school on Monday! Also I don't know where I'm going half the time. Anyways. I expect I'll be reading a lot more during the school year, mostly books that are assigned to me. That'll be fun.

++

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne

I thought it would be a good idea to read this book because I dunno, apparently it's an American classic or something. Whatever, now I can say I read it and hopefully I'll NEVER HAVE TO PICK IT UP AGAIN. The most interesting thing about reading this book was finding a stamp on one of the pages that said "Nanuet Senior High School, Church St., NY" which is coincidentally like 5 minutes away from where Katrina lives.

This book is dense. I feel like it could've been written in two chapters if Hawthorne hadn't spent pages and pages describing shit that had no importance whatsoever. I'm probably insulting a lot of people right now. I'll say something good: there was a couple of pages at the end that I was really into. That is all.

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

Again, I wanted to read some "classic literature" 'cause it looks good on my book resume/list. Great Expectations was good. It wasn't life changing and it wasn't terrible. It was completely enjoyable, if not a bit long, but still fun to read. The characters were all developed really nicely and have their own background story, which is great since I love character analysis. Wemmick and Mr. Jaggers were my favorite, especially Wemmick because he's just so awesome (that is the formal way of saying it), also I think Herbert and Pip were lovers probs. Actually now that I think about it, I like Great Expectations a lot more now than when I read it. Which was like a week ago.

"You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since -- on the river, on the sails of ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets."

Pip to Estella, "Great Expectations" by Charles Dickens

High Fidelity by Nick Hornby

I was really excited to read this book because 1) it looks super pomo and 2) it starts with a list. I was not disappointed. I was about 1/3 of the way through it and I was like "what the hell is this book about? this is weird" but it just got better as I went along. I think I got really into it when I suddenly realized that the narrator, Rob, is just like me. Or I'm just like him. There's also a ton of lists, which I love.

I'm kind of curious to watch the movie because there's so much narration that I don't know how they would do it. Anyways I'm going to watch it at one point and maybe I'll tell you about it. I can't really explain this book, but it got me thinking in a certain way and inspired me to write a "short story" which I may or may not post sometime in the future.

Also if you like Chuck Palahniuk, you will probably like High Fidelity.

"The difference between these people and me is that they finished college and I didn't; as a consequence, they have smart jobs and I have a scruffy job, they are rich and I am poor, they are self-confident and I am incontinent, they do not smoke and I do, they have opinions and I have lists."

-Nick Hornby "High Fidelity"

I've Been Reading. I've Been Reading Some Crappy Books.

So Harry Potter happened! Sometimes I get the urge to read all the Harry Potter books in a row, so I did that, and then the movie came out. I saw it. Did you? Probably maybe. My only comment is this, and has been this since the first movie came out: Alan Rickman is perfect as Snape (I wrote Spane first cause my fingers don't have nerves that connect to my brain). I have other comments but even I don't care about them.

Remember last time I read some books? That was over a month ago. Also, who is the anonymous commentater? I've been trying to figure it out for .. over a month. Anyways, this is what I've been reading lately, nothing too interesting or exciting. Mostly I've been taking books of my shelf that I haven't read in a long time and that usually means I first read them when I was 10.

Build a wall of books between us in our bed

After reading Harry Potter, I decided to read Pirates! by Celia Rees because it was on my shelf and I wanted to be 13 again. Basically I don't have anything to say about this book because it's for 13 year olds and I'm (thankfully!) not that age anymore.

Then Katie lent me Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk which was really just a crazy book. Everybody is just somebody else with a fake name and it's all super dramatic and high paced. It was really well written, but then again I expect nothing less from Chuck Palahniuk. Ps Fight Club is obvs still an awesome movie. Brb going to watch it.

Alright, I'm not going to lie, I like fantasy novels. I just do. So I read The Sight by David Clement-Davies which was a really good book when I was younger. It was still kinda good, except I think I skipped a lot of words and just "read" it, if you know what I mean. No? I know, I'm terrible at explaining things. It was still fairly interesting anyway, a couple of times I thought he was trying to make a religious comment about the world except it was so random that I wasn't sure.

Here's where it gets "serious" (is anything ever serious?). After these books I decided that I wanted to be more "scholarly" and "educated" and "intellectual" so now I'm only reading "classic literature". I read The Outsider (or The Stranger or L'étranger in the real french version) by Albert Camus. The way it was written reminded me of The Catcher in the Rye, another "classic novel". I read it in one day though, it was fast and good (that's what she said) and probably one that I'd read again.

Currently I'm reading The Scarlett Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne in an effort to give the appearance that I'm smart. It's one of those books I really have to focus to get through it. Also I always read Hesta Prynn instead of Hester Prynne, which is actually fine with me. Remember this? Sara's hair is so long!

Speaking of Tegan and Sara, their new album is coming out October 27. So get ready.

In other news, Tokyo is still having "thundershowers" and I almost went for a run today.

Other Books I'm Reading

Okay, last time I read three books and was in the middle of reading the second Redwall book, Mossflower. Since then I've finished it, read the next one, Mattimeo, and then read three more books. That makes a total of 8 books (see? I can count). If anyone would like to suggest something to read, that's nice, put it in the comments and I'll add it to my list.


The Life of Pi by Yann Martel

My dad bought The Life of Pi for $2 at a garage sale. This is a book that won a very prestigious award (which means nothing to me) and other things, rave reviews, blah blah, and claims that it may make me believe in God. Doubtful of that I read it anyway hoping to be entertained for a bit. It made me lose a couple hours of sleep during the middle of the book when I absolutely couldn't put it down, but the beginning was a bit long and uneventful and I found the end disappointing. Overall it was a good story but yeah, that's it. And even though I have weird/mixed feelings towards God, it did not make me believe in him I don't know why someone would claim that.



On the Road by Jack Kerouac

This book made me feel high. Like I physically felt like I was on drugs when I read this. Some of my friends have said they only want to read On the Road when they go on a roadtrip. Obviously I didn't do that. I like the idea of re-reading it if I ever go across the country -- one of my favorite things about books is that reading it a second time is always different than the first. I'll probably be in a different place (metaphorically and physically) when I read this a second time and I can't wait to see what new meanings it will hold, because this book has a lot of meanings and secrets waiting to be found in its pages.

"I could hear an indescribable seething roar which wasn't in my ear but was everywhere and had nothing to do with sounds. I realized that I had died and been reborn numberless times but just didn't remember especially because the transitions from life to death and back to life are so ghostly easy, a magical action for naught, like falling asleep and waking up again a million times, the utter casualness and deep ignorance of it."


The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall

If you didn't gather from the title, this book is fucking depressing. It's at times long and brutally honest. It also provided comfort and made me angry, made me weep, made me shameful but also proud, it evoked a self-pity but also pity for the world which can be so horrible, and it humbled me. I can't explain it in any other way except to say that this book made me feel.

"Our love may be faithful even unto death and beyond -- yet the world will call it unclean. We may harm no living creature by our love; we may grow more perfect in understanding and in charity because of our loving; but all this will not save you from the scourge of a world that will turn its eyes from your noblest actions, finding only corruption and vileness in you.

Because there is only toleration for the so-called normal. And when you come to me for protection, I shall say: "I cannot protect you, the world has deprived me of my right to protect; I am utterly helpless, I can only love you."

June Midnight, Light

It was cold though it was June. I watched the sun set over a soccer field and a man playing fetch with his German Shepherd. I was reading On the Road by Jack Kerouac for the first time -- well, that wasn't true, I had only read the introduction. I kept adjusting myself; the rock I was sitting on did not provide the comfort I sought. Less than a year ago I had sat by this very rock and drank shots of sourpuss late into the night and then stumbled down the hill, spinning in circles and rolling in sand.

It was the introduction of On the Road that made me feel like writing. I hadn't even read Kerouac yet and I wanted to smoke something or get drunk and wander the streets downtown. I hadn't even read Kerouac and I wanted to be Elliott Smith. Or Conor Oberst, who seemed to be a mixture of them both, an eternal wanderer and a singer songwriter. All of them inebriated somehow, or at least in my mind.

But I couldn't shake the urge of wanting to write, wanting to create. Poems weren't doing it anymore, they felt too easy as if anything written with weird spacing could become poetry. I thought of distant characters I had created before now, 'great' novels started and never finished. Maybe it was the lack of plan or structure or just idea in general. Or inspiration. I wanted to draw on my own experiences, but searching inside myself I found none I deemed worthy of writing about. I'd been in this place many times before but also before jumping into the 'experience' I narrated it first and then the moment passed. My inhibitions got in the way. I imagined it was my glasses, because how could you do anything with glasses on? They were cumbersome, a physical manifestation of my excuse, my fear of participating.

I was attracted by sounds from the baseball field. I wandered in the direction of the noise; little boys yelling, parents yelling, the sound of metal hitting a ball, the stomping of ground beneath my and their feet. I wandered to the baseball field in a straight line.

Books I Am Currently Reading

Soooo, now that I work at a job that is 3% picking up garbage/drawing baseball lines and 97% sitting in a chalet, I have a lot of time to read and talk on the phone and do sudoku. But mostly read. I like to keep track of things like this 'cause I'm a weirdo and I want to know how many books I'm gonna read this summer! So I'm making my list here. Also this is like a book club with myself and maybe with other people if they want to participate.


Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Hands down totes one of my favorite books ever. Ever.

"There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world the more I am dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of either merit or sense." - Elizabeth Bennet

Sigh. I urge you to read this book if you haven't already.


The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

Which was just a dumb idea because it made me depressed for like 3 days. Also frustrating 'cause I still connect with that book, probably even more so than when I first read it in grade 9.
"We accept the love we think we deserve." This line has come back as one of the truest things I've ever read.


Redwall by Brian Jacques

This is a series kinda like Lord of the Rings but not. It's about mice and other woodland creatures! I like fantasy books, they appeal to my imagination. Don't make stupid jokes. Anyways, once you get past the exaggerated, dramatic style of writing it's actually a pretty good read. I'm already reading the second book Mossflower, but after that I'm probs gonna read Harry Potter again. I think there are like, 20 Redwall books, the latest one was published in 2008 (just fyi the first one was published in 1986).

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It seems weird that with Prop 8 being upheld recently that I'm going to a wedding on Sunday. We take our rights for granted. Read what Katrina has to say about it.

Just Another Manic Monday

Er, so yeah, school has started again. I have to say I was dreading it in ways I can't explain, it was sort of like anticipating a snow storm, I wanted it to come and just get it over with. However, the night before I discovered the class lists for all my classes and for some reason that made me excited like I was anticipating my 7th birthday. I still haven't seen everyone, although tomorrow's class is at 8 AM, I don't think anyone will want to see me at that hour. Waking up early is what's going to kill me, I don't know how people function before 10. Now there is approximately four months left of waking up early, and as part of my resolution to not fail I have already bought one of my textbooks. And I am going to read it, as confusing and vague as it seems (principles of math and logic? wtf?).

Anyways I have a feeling I'm going to be disappointed with my politics class, this guy talked for an hour and twenty minutes about going to university, the guy who owns the metro grocery store in pointe-claire, his friend the plumber, how he respects tradeworkers, university, success and failure, education, teachers forcing kids to read textbooks, university, various people he's met, his three degrees at three different schools, his family and grandchildren, university, etc. the list goes on forever however one thing I know is that he DID NOT TALK ABOUT POLITICS and it took him an hour before he handed out the course outline. Then he proceeded to tell us that our vocabulary is too small and he is going to help us prepare for university, thanks but I'D LIKE TO DISCUSS POLITICS, too bad he didn't mention it at all during his monologue.

En tout cas, it was only the first class so I'll give it a chance before I unleash my wrath and subject him to harsh judgement that may or may not be warranted because he did seem like a "nice" guy (nice in quotations because he did tell this kid to "shut your jab" multiple times) however annoying and seemingly self involved he appeared.

Also, this is random but completely relevant to the topic of school, I am totes lost without my french dictionary. Totes lost.

All my teachers took up full class time on the first day, this morning feels like it was ages ago, I want to go home and sleep. I didn't even bother "dressing up" today, I wore sweatpants, at least I'm comfortable. The good thing about Liberal Arts is that I don't really have to make first impressions on anybody, people figured out I was a loser in first semester now I don't have to go through that whole awkward "not knowing anybody" period.

I've lost my schedule twice already, though once I just thought I lost it and then remembered that I had left it in my locker, and then I really did lose it and now someone can totes stalk me for the rest of my life I mean semester.

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I want to read a good book. Like, I want to sink myself into another world that only exists in the author's and my mind, a book that is so fucking good that I have to read it at breakfast and in the car and during class breaks and on the way home and every moment possible that is not spent doing something that requires interaction with other people. I want to read a book that I think about when I'm not reading it, a book that makes me want to stay home in bed to read, read, read, and finish it as fast as possible so I can read it again. Now where is a life changing book like that? I haven't read such a good, utterly gripping book since The Da Vinci Code which I read in grade 8. IT'S BEEN FOUR YEARS SINCE I'VE READ A MINDBLOWING NOVEL, WHICH I CONSIDER SUCH A LONG PERIOD OF TIME THAT I HAVE TO WRITE IT IN CAPITALS. I'm sure there have been other books that have captivated me since then. Harry Potter, for one, I love that shit. Also, The Da Vinci Code, as it turns out, was ruined by the movie, it sucked. Dan Brown's writing is awesome but I'm totes over it, I don't think I'll read The Da Vinci Code again. Harry Potter is another story (no pun intended - lame), I plan to read those books for the rest of my life. However, aside from a very small list of books, I daresay I haven't been reading anything new for a while, I always keep re-reading the books I already have. I did read the first chapter of the second Twilight book, it was lame, not even worth mentioning which is why I will cease to write about it ever again*.

So yeah, I am in search of a good novel. Of course, I will be soon bombarded with schoolwork and won't have time to read anything except textbooks, but I'm still looking anyways.


Hi, Alessia.


*I don't really mean that, it's totes possible that someday in the future I may be called upon to write about the Twilight series, what I mean is that I don't want to write about it right now or ever be forced to read the books.

"This week or last week, I don't really care about it anymore.
I write myself this later, I tell myself you let me go.
Without me, oh, what's wrong with you?
Monday, Monday, Monday."
- Tegan and Sara "Monday Monday Monday"