look at what i did now

in an airport hotel
so i touch your bones for the last time

the sun rises through the window

planes lift their heavy wings
fly over our heads

this balcony gives an excellent view of sky

so at four in the morning i pack my bags
and dive right in

sweet blue tastes like sugar sticks and nescafe

asphalt tastes like clean sheets soft mattress all alone

so i guess what i'm trying to say
is that i'm home

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."

This Train Is A Long Goodbye

Have you ever been on a train and dreamed about being on a train? Well, I have. I woke up at 4 this morning to catch a train that would take me to a place where I could get on another train. I fall asleep on the second train, and that's where I have my dream.

I was asleep on the train and then I woke up. Someone I knew was sitting next to me. She wanted me to read to her aloud. She couldn't read the word 'schedule'. I tried to read aloud but every time I did a few words would come out and then my mouth would hang open and I wouldn't be able to close it. I could only make sounds in the back of my throat. I knew that I was capable of reading aloud, only my mouth wouldn't move. I fell back asleep.

When I woke up there were a few little girls boarding the train. They must've been 9 or 10 years old. One of them sat next to me. I dozed off. I woke up and one of their friends was getting on at a new stop. She had a striped blue and white shirt. My clothes were all out of my bag. How did that happen? The girls seemed to be running away from something. They huddled together and spoke to each other as if they had a plan. I started picking my clothes up off the floor and putting them back in my bag. I had to reach over the girl next to me. Sorry, I said. I went back to sleep.

I wake up in real life with a little bit of drool on the side of my mouth and a slight fear that if I try to speak my mouth will hang open and never close again. There is a person beside me in a striped shirt. It has only been an hour and a half since I fell asleep. I'm supposed to be asleep for the next 10 hours.

Have you ever said goodbye to someone at a train station? Have you ever sat in your seat and looked out the window and the person you care about is standing there waiting for the train to leave? I have, and all I want to do is jump out the window and leave the train behind. But the train starts to move and my girl starts to cry. I want to ask someone when I will see her next but I'm afraid to know. I lay down across two seats and let small tears crawl down my cheek. Hey, how're you doing… the ticketman comes to collect my ticket. His voice trails off as he sees me crying and he avoids eye contact. I fumble with my ticket. Sorry, I say. He says nothing. I go to sleep. I want to sleep until the boa constrictor in my chest unravels and slinks away.

When I wake up again on the second train the person in a striped shirt is gone. I am unsure if they were ever there or if it was something I dreamed into life. There is no evidence of their being there. I want to go back to sleep but instead I write. The shake shake of the train makes me feel like vomiting when I stare at my screen. I write until I feel fully nauseous. I want to be asleep. I write 'I want to be asleep'.

I want to be asleep.

I have a brown paper bag full of snacks for the train, but I'm not hungry. I pick at the food on top; chips, some candy, and a peanut butter bar. It is only till much later that I check the bottom of the bag for more food. There's a napkin underneath with words written on it and I feel my throat close up and my eyes burn again. There is a flood behind my eyelids and if I keep them closed it will not leak out. To anybody else, I suppose, the napkin is just a napkin. But to me it's a little bit of home, or a little bit of a place where there's warmth and comfort. It's a part of a safety blanket. I keep it at the bottom of the bag.

The train is very cold. I wear your shirt and your sweater and your hat. I want to feel like I am wearing you, but it just feels like I am wearing your sweater.

++

In relation to the earth and the universe, we are just two tiny blips on a very big map. There are many people who have lived before us, and many who will live after. There are many people in our time who we will never meet, who will never know us separately or together, will never be touched or changed by us, will never know our names. We will likely be lost in the history books, but we have found each other. We exist to love and to be loved, to know that our own stories are enough.

Montreal, My Hands Are Getting Cold

Holy shitfuck guys, it's December. I wrote this on November 14th. Obvs I had just read 'America'. I don't know what I want.

Anyways, urgent matters to discuss before you read this poem. Remember when Maine happened? Ironically I used a line from 'America' as the title of that post, and today America, more specifically New York, fucked up again. The NY senate voted no on gay marriage, which is incomprehensibly lame. Read about it on Autostraddle and share your feelings.

Basically I just like to write about cities a lot, now read this about Montreal.

++

Montreal, do you hate me?

I can't figure you out.

I don't think I can talk to you right now.

I might cry and that would be embarrassing.

Montreal, I'm writing your name down.

Montreal, I'm making this real.

Montreal, you're ignoring me.

Can you hear me, Montreal?

I can't figure you out.

Would you like me to wave?

Would you like me to close my eyes?

Is this a game we're playing?

Montreal, you didn't tell me.

Montreal, should I stop asking questions?

I can't stop asking questions.

Is this too unbalanced?

Am I tipping the scales?

Montreal, I'll never be able to refine this.

Montreal, you're never going to read this.

I'm going to make you read this.

Montreal, I'm going to make you care.

I can't make you care.

Montreal, would you like me to leave?

I tried to leave.

Montreal, you wouldn't let me.

Who are you, Montreal?

I can't figure you out.

Montreal, I'm making this real.

Montreal, I'm ending this now.

I can't end this now.

I can't start anything either.

Montreal, I'm stuck.

Montreal, I want to cry.

I'm going to cry in front of you.

I'm going to smoke next to you.

Montreal, would you like a cigarette?

Montreal, would you leave me alone?

Leave me alone.

I'm tired of you.

Montreal, I never see you.

Montreal, you're everywhere.

Montreal, are you ignoring me?

Montreal, I want to leave,

but you left first.

Montreal, it wasn't fair.

I gave you chances, Montreal,

you didn't take them.

Did my opportunities come up short?

Montreal, am I good enough for you?

I'll never be good enough.

Montreal, I'm better than you.

Montreal, I'm stronger.

Montreal, my hands are getting cold.

I'm tired of waiting.

Montreal, you never came.

Montreal, you never met me.

I walked home in the morning.

The morning made my hands cold.

Montreal, do you have pockets?

Do you want a cigarette?

Are you ignoring me?

Montreal, I swear I saw you last night.

I swear you saw me too.

You looked right through me, Montreal.

Between St. Laurent and Mont-Royal,

Montreal, the sidewalks are full.

I walked the sidewalk down St. Laurent.

Montreal, you were on the sidewalk too.

Montreal, I broke the rules.

Montreal, I came outside and you were gone.

Where are you, Montreal?

Are you ignoring me?

Do you want me to leave?

Do you want a cigarette?

Montreal, I don't think you care about me.

I care about me.

Montreal, this is never ending.

Montreal, I'm trying not to cry.

Did you see me last night?

I was trying not to cry.

I walked home in the morning.

Montreal, my hands are cold.

Montreal, I don't think you're listening.

Are you listening?

Montreal, you're no good for me.

Montreal, give me a fucking chance.

Ask me a question, Montreal.

Is this too much?

Montreal, I'm stuck.

Montreal, I cried.

Montreal, I tried.

You didn't try.

Montreal, you ran away.

You left me standing here.

Montreal, my hands are cold.

Answer me, Montreal.

Montreal?

Don't wait up for me, Montreal.

I'm staying out late tonight.

It's Cool, We Can Still Be Friends

Montreal at night.

Montreal at dawn.

I guess that your truth is just a ghost of your lies.

I guess your kind of truth is just the ghost of your lies.

Yeah, your kind of truth, darling, is just the ghost of your lies.

I see through them all the time.

So I'm pouring some whiskey, I'm gonna get drunk.

I'm pouring myself some whiskey, I'm gonna get real fucking drunk!

I'm pouring some whiskey right now, I'm gonna get so, so drunk

that I pass out and forget your face... by the time I wake up.

- Bright Eyes

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."

Hats Off To My Distant Hope

Okkervil River - Blue Tulip
with every single inch of me i'm going to make you mean it
with every single cell of me i'm going to make you mean the words you sigh


------

"hockey is a stupid game sometimes."
and my, and my heart has slowly dried up

tell me that you know another way to get it done

wtf, edouard-montpetit
go suck a fish
go eat a donkey
go die

something doesn't feel right
i want to crawl into a hole and stop eating
don't try and make me feel better
cause this time it really matters

it's been a pleasure

you lay awake in the night just staring at the ceiling above
pulling pieces of it out is such a waste of time
keep on fighting to remember that nothing is lost in the end
when you burn, burn, burn your life down