Cohabiting by Stephen Dunn

There's not a nude in a museum
or a person anywhere, taking a bath,
nearly as naked as that French girl,
stripped of all but her socks,
head shaved, being spat upon
by her own townspeople
in one of history's sunlit
cobblestone squares. I've only
read about her, but somehow,
for me, she's permanently fixed,
a scaffolding of awful
yet understandable righteousness
surrounding her, accentuating
the stark paleness of her skin,
the big war finally over,
and behind it, for centuries,
those without pity
with their saliva and their stones.
I imagine how it began
between them, a man in a uniform
she had to have been wary of,
a man, in fact, dressed to kill,
touching her in some exactly
right place in a wrong time.
And I see her resisting for as long
as she can--minutes, weeks--
her mind searching for principles
her body doesn't seem to have.
Perhaps she thinks it's the end
of her world, what has she to lose?
Or she just falls
into those irrevocable tomorrows
like someone who knows
only what she feels, the enemy slowly
transformed into a man as lonely
as she is, with beautiful hands.
I can see the picture clearly now.
Terrified, she rushes forward,
which makes no sense, but I remember
when I did the same. Everything
in my education said, no, go back,
and I went headlong into the flames.

"The Year In Review": A Few Things I Remember

1. [f a l l i n g in and out and in and o u t of love]

With everything, and everyone, constantly. I just can't do the highs and lows. Well, sometimes I don't understand me and sometimes I don't understand you. I don't know you or me. I don't understand the happiness or lightness of love; I don't understand the sadness and excessive weight of love. I've given you all and now I'm nothing.

2. ["Christmas is S O D U M B."]

I am Scrooge/The Grinch. Whatever. Christmas is stupid. I'm only partially sorry if that offends you. What is Christmas about anyway? Is it the birth of Jesus? I honestly don't even know. I don't even really care. All I want for Christmas, really, is some new socks. Because the majority of my socks have holes in them. I am happy that I am escaping this Christmas obsessed world and going to a tiny bubble in the middle of nowhere with people who also don't care about Christmas.

(Alright, so Christmas hasn't happened yet, but today on the metro I saw a man with a Christmas tree and I thought "oh yeah, I guess it's about that time to throw out Christmas trees" and then I realized that December 25th hasn't actually happened yet. That's how much I care about Christmas.)

3. [g r a dua t ing]

I did it.

4. [s u m m e r in America]

It was hot. There were fireworks and a parade and everyone I love in Riese's living room. I feel sad and nostalgic because it will probably never happen again, I mean, not like that. You and I are not the same people anymore. But we are still beautiful.

5. [moving i n and o u t and in and out of h o m e]

Frequently I ask myself "why do I live here" and fail to produce a decent answer. Then one night I slept in my old bedroom and felt annoyed at all the space. My room was too big. It doesn't matter. Nothing is ever clean in my apartment. But my small room feels at least a little more like home. It's warm and the bed is comfortable. It's safe.

I still feel like I don't know where I live, or where home is. I guess that's normal.

6. [the year in r e v i e w]

I remember parts of the year. I remember February, vividly. I remember March and feeling high and happy and perfect. Things made sense in March. I think I went on a camping trip in April. I remember my legs sticking to the seat of the bus in May. June and July are stuck together in a gooey mess of sweat and kisses and tears. August is one long train ride to nowhere. September - November is 10,000 feelings I'd like to erase. I am drained and pulled apart.

I am tired and I'd like to stop counting. I'd like to stop counting backwards and forwards. Sometimes all I know is that I'm a mirror of other people's feelings and opinions, a composition of people who came before me. Sometimes I'm amazed at the love I feel, and the strangeness of how I can love people I don't know, so much so that I turn the people I claim to love into strangers. Sometimes I'm surprised at how angry I am, when I don't know where that anger comes from. But mostly I'm surprised/unsurprised at the way the world heals itself, and how when everything feels upside down, the world will turn you over again.

"I love the number of people

you can love at the same time,

one deep, erotic love,

radiating even to strangers,

cynics, making a temporary sense

of the senseless, choreful day."

- Stephen Dunn "Loves"

Is this year over yet.

A Few Things

Hi. Okay, I don't really have any ideas for a blog post so I'm just going to tell you things so that you keep reading and don't forget about me.

I went to see Hollerado Friday night in Montreal and it was one of the best shows I've ever been to. I don't know how to explain it other than to say that it ended with the audience on stage with the band, jumping around to Neil Young's 'Rocking in the Free World'. I mean there's few things that will get me to jump around like a crazy person like that, I didn't even want to do it when I played hockey and that was basically the same thing as working out. I know I'm small but moshing is fun.

As a bit of a sidenote, I've noticed that some of the best concerts are the ones that cost ~$8. Tegan and Sara are my favourite band, but now that they're "big" and their concerts cost ~$35, they lose some of the intimacy that smaller shows definitely get. There are stricter boundaries as well, for example, the audience would never be able to jump on stage at a T&S show.

Katie is going to Australia in January and when she goes I'm losing my concert-going buddy. So I'm going to have to put up an ad for that. But I feel very sensitive about this, like I think I might just go to concerts alone instead because I will just be very sad that Katie is gone and no one can fill her shoes. Because she has big feet. Ha ha. Okay. The editor in my brain is telling me to erase that but I'm not going to because then you would never read it.

So, a few other things. November was pretty decent, I think I only cried once. It went by really fast and now the semester's almost over and honestly, I feel pretty sad about that. That's probably another post for when my exams are done. But in general, I feel good about November. It seems that just when I started getting settled in and used to things it's all ending, but what can you do. I got a harmonica for my birthday and I've been teaching myself some real hardcore songs like "You Are My Sunshine" and "Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer". I'm a little bit in denial that I'm 20. I also might be in denial that the past 3 months actually happened. I don't know. Sometimes I'm in denial that I'm actually a real person and that's when I know I should see my therapist.

I guess this is a bit of an update or something. I want to write about the Mary Gaitskill reading I went to a month ago but clearly that keeps getting pushed back. So maybe in a few months you'll hear about that. Is there anything you want me to tell you about, do you want me to write a story or something. Remember when Riese told you to ask her questions and then she would answer them? I would do that but I don't think anyone would ask any questions because Riese has 32908443 more readers than I do. One day I want to write a blog post about how much I love Riese. Also, Riese, if you're reading this, I want the rights to your biography. Thanks.

Ok here's the end of a poem by Stephen Dunn:

Poem For People Who Are Understandably Too Busy To Read Poetry

Imagine yourself a caterpillar.

There's an awful shrug and, suddenly,

You're beautiful for as long as you live.

The Easy Forgetting

"You never could have imagined

back then with the waves crashing

what the body could erase."

- Stephen Dunn "The Vanishings"

I stumbled out of a bar to a street I know too well. My shoes fell in dirt, a block of concrete removed to make room for a tree. I leaned against the tree, my head falling back in laughter. I'm so inebriated that I cannot see three feet in front of me. I want a cigarette to warm the tips of my fingers and in my circle of friends we create clouds that roll up to the sky and disappear. I hope she kisses me tonight.

We hang on to each other for support, because it's so funny I can't stand. I could swear we are moving in slow motion. Each laugh is like a howl, our heads thrown back calling to the moon. The ground doesn't hurt, nor do scrapes on my knee, ripped jeans. Stephen Dunn said too much doesn't hurt anymore.

She kisses me on the cheek, like I once saw her do in a picture with someone else. My stomach aches.

Our foreheads are pressed together. My hair sticks to my forehead. My mouth... The air is warmer between us. I have wanted this for so long.

I can see the freckles on her nose. I can see the flecks of green in her eyes. I can see each individual eyelash, closely stuck together, and the delicate skin on her eyelid when she blinks in slow motion. I smile into her mouth.

I can feel her sigh escape into the night.

Each breath is hot and I can see our breath hovering in the cold air. I kiss the edges of her smile and behind us the chaos of kids laughing and falling becomes haze and muffled noise. For one night I am in love and it ends too soon. She escapes into the night.

One day it will vanish, he said, how you felt when you were overwhelmed by her. Hurt, he said, how could you have forgotten? hurts.

It's October

Holy fucking shit it's October. Did you think we would ever make it to October? Me neither. Let's talk about it.

So, September was a shitty month. It was shittier than February, which was shitty, and also confusing because because it's the shortest month of the year. Clearly, this plan sucks and should be scraped, it was written from the vantage point of being happy, sometimes I feel like happy people never really "get it", but also sad people are like "wah I'm so misunderstood", so like, whatever. Basically people are confusing, life is a roller coaster, etc. I was happy once, and I'll be happy again. Right now is just a sad time where I want to break things and am moody and angsty a lot. You'll be happy again too, I promise.

But also I didn't really do any of the things I recommended to myself, so maybe the plan does work. BUT ALSO if you're happy it's easy to miss that some of those things are not possible, like did I really think I wasn't going to listen to Bright Eyes? So, I should just shut up. Anyways.

You guys have all been really nice to me and someone even made me a mixtape full of spanish/mexican/latin american songs (I can't tell the difference) and it's kind of AWESOME, which made me want to make a mixtape for October, which I will do and then release it on the interwebs for you to download if you so desire.

Speaking of music, today is Monday, let's listen to a song. Together. As a family.

This is my favourite song from The New Pornographer's 2007 album Challengers and for some reason I've been listening to the album a lot recently.

These adventures in solitude never done.

We thought we lost you. Welcome back.

I've also had a lot of Stephen Dunn lines running through my head:

from "Corners": the places we retreat to, the places we can't bear to be found.

from "Loves": making a temporary sense of the senseless, choreful day.

here is where loveliness can live with failure, and nothing's complete.

i love how we go on.

Fuck September. Here's to October.

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."

Turning Loneliness Into Happiness: Another Memo To Myself

Learn how to make something:

food, a shoe box, a good day.

Remember, finally, there are few pleasures

that aren't as local as your fingertips.

Never go to Europe for a cathedral.

In large groups, create a corner

in the middle of the room.

- Stephen Dunn "How to be Happy: Another Memo to Myself"

First, watch this video.

Have you watched it yet? This is probably much better advice than I'm about to give you. It might also be kind of the same, but mine is probably for people who are not already perfect.

What's happening is this: Laura is going to Spain really soon. I am moving out of my parent's house. I am starting a new school in a program with people that I don't know. All my habits are about to change and that's kind of scary because there will be no more shared Alias watching, no more old comforts. Now I will have to find new comforts.

What I mean is this: I'm anticipating a period of loneliness in my life. It could spiral out of control and my life could become a mess as I struggle to deal with all the feelings (ALL THE FEELINGS!) happening all at once, or I could learn "how to be alone".

I expect that you, reader, are also going to experience at least one period of loneliness in the next 5 months, because you are (probably) a human and we are all lonely sometimes. Even Jennifer Beals is lonely sometimes. This is how I imagine my particular loneliness: it starts in my stomach, small, and then works its way up to squeezing my heart so hard that I think my heart must stop beating soon, only it doesn't. It's the opposite of the feeling of hugging your dad when you were 6 and he was superman because he could lift up your bike.

I have a plan to stave off my own loneliness for the winter. I have no idea if it will work. This plan has been formatted to fit me (tv screen). Maybe you can learn something from it, maybe you can help me stay afloat, maybe you will think I'm crazy. I expect that the next 5 months will take a superior mental effort to get through, or at least the first 1-3, and then maybe the next ones will sort of roll along. I don't plan on going through the motions. I plan on fully living my life with expected periods of stress and loneliness and feelings of wanting to go "home" even though "home" is a concept not a place. The point is to contain those periods so I don't spiral out of control into a fit of depression.

Joseph Addison said the grand essentials to happiness are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for. I feel like this is some of the best advice ever and if I find all these things, however small, my plan will succeed. Then in January I can collapse or find a new plan. Like how cell phones work.

This is what I have so far via Joseph Addison:

Something to do: I'm moving and starting school and looking for a new job. It's taking up all my time.

Something to love: we'll get back to that (maybe).

Something to hope for: I'm going to interpret this as "something to look forward to" or "something you hope to achieve in the future". My aunt from Berkeley is coming September 19th. I'm superexcited and I feel like when she comes all my problems will be solved. Basically by September 19th I want to be "settled in" to my "new life".

In a slight tangent, I feel like this is a little bit like The Sims. Remember that game? Either way, it's not a hard concept to grasp. Each Sim has desires and needs and you have to fill them.

Sims need to eat, sit, shower, pee, sleep, have fun, have friends, and enjoy their living space. Make sure all those things are green and your Sim is happy ("happy").

Here is my plan for being the happiest person I can be this fall/early winter in between finding things to hope for.

1. Denial/Thinking Positive/Letting Go

A small part of me wants to see if I can trick myself into actually being in denial that Laura is in Spain for 5 months. The idea is that if I deny it long enough, by the time I'm ready to accept the fact, she might be back on this continent already and I'll be like "oh, that was fast. I hadn't realized you'd left."

Realistically, that is not going to happen. Thus I have to use a combination of denial and "acceptance" to overcome this particular obstacle.

What is the difference between denial and thinking positively? Probably to a psychologist there is a big difference, but to me, they kind of seem the same sometimes. See, thinking positive is just the opposite of feeling those dark feelings. For example, I could be thinking of all the things I'm going to miss when Laura goes away. There are a lot of things, and the idea makes me cry for serious. My plan is to live in complete and total denial of those feelings and force myself to think of little things I am excited to do (see: #6 something to hope for). Maybe it's a dumb idea to pretend that I don't feel lonely when I am, but you know what? I don't want to be lonely. I will tell myself that I'm happy until I'm actually happy. I will use all the psychological force in the world to make myself happy. It's not a life plan but until things change that's what I have to do.

2. Listen to Irrelevant Music

Music touches a sensitive chord with a lot of people. When I'm lonely all I want to do is be alone and listen to sad music. Obviously this is part of the downward spiral.

WHAT I RECOMMEND:

+ Every disney song I can possibly think of (I have been listening to "Kiss the Girl" from The Little Mermaid on repeat for the past 3 days)

+ Lady Gaga (not that she's irrelevant, just that I don't want to cry every time I listen to her)

+ Phoenix

+ some Tegan and Sara

+ most stuff that comes on shuffle

WHAT I AVOID:

+ Bon Iver ("Good Winter"?? Justin Vernon was shut up alone in a cabin in the middle of winter for 3 months writing these songs. These songs were MADE for lonely winters/cold weather/feeling like dying)

+ Iron & Wine

+ most Bright Eyes songs

+ some Death Cab for Cutie

+ "Angel" by Sarah McLachlan

3. Compartmentalize Your Crying

I'm pretty sure I'm going to cry at least once, most likely 10 or more times, in the next few months. Crying is kinda tricky though, 'cause there's good crying and bad crying. Good crying feels good. It's like a weight off your shoulders. Bad crying feels like choking and despair and a downward spiral. Bad crying is crying for no reason.

My advice to myself: It's okay to cry over spilled milk, I think. Let's be real -- "spilling milk" sucks, especially when it's all the milk you had and the grocery store is closed. Can you cry and clean up at the same time? 'Cause then you're okay. I mean, maybe not, 'cause you have no milk. But you must recognize that life goes on.

Also, think about crying with someone rational or else you might take a sudden dive and start crying because your best friend in the 3rd grade called you chubby. It's easy to start crying about something small but then end up because of everything in the whole entire world. It's important to avoid this because it doesn't work with #1 and will probably make you want to listen to the music on your AVOID list.

4. Find Something To Do

This is like that Sims thing. Make sure you eat and pee and sleep. Make sure you have fun! Make sure you see your friends. Do all the things you would make your Sim do, except do them faster. Try to not be bored as often as possible. Distract yourself because then it'll be easier to be in denial about your loneliness. I like to make to-do lists. Currently my list is full of things like "buy a new razor" which I've had there for over a month. I accomplish more pressing things faster. Try something new! Since I'll be living on my own for the first time ever, I have to make all my own meals so I'll be trying a lot of new recipes and experimenting in cooking. If that's too boring for you, join the fencing club. Do your homework.

Avoid being alone. Even if you want to, but especially if you want to. Sometimes when I'm lonely I lie on my bed and stare at my ceiling and if I lie there long enough I begin to trick myself into thinking I don't exist. This is kind of a scary thought. The way to fix this is make contact with the outside world. I don't think it means you have to go out with 20 people for 5 hours. Hang out with one friend for half an hour. Invite them to your house and keep your pyjamas on. If even that's too much, go to the store and ask the employees some questions about whatever it is they're selling. Wear your pyjamas if it makes you feel better. As long as you make a connection with someone. It doesn't have to be a lasting one. Just make sure you still exist. Okay?

5. Something To Like

I'm not entirely sure what Joseph Addison means by "something to love". Does he mean find a person to love? 'Cause that's something that could take, literally, a lifetime. Does he mean a hobby? 'Cause that's kind of like "something to do".

I'm going to assume he means find something that you like more than other things. Sometimes I have to do things that I don't want to do and that would be filed under "something to do" and not "something to love".

Finding something to love sounds to me like finding a serious passion that you might want to pursue as a career or something and I don't think I'm ready to declare that yet, so I'm sticking with something to like. I like to read and take pictures and play the guitar so I'm going to try and do those things in my spare time.

I think the point is to not get caught up with work/school/stress. Do something for you.

6. Something To Hope For

Living in the present is good because we should appreciate the things we have, except sometimes there are shitty days. On those days, we should remember that there's always tomorrow.

Like I said before, I'm really excited for my aunt to visit on Sept. 19th. And after that, I'm not so sure, but I assume there will be something to look forward to. Probably the Phoenix concert in October. November is for some reason considered the month of depression, but it's also the month of my birthday, so there must be something good happening there. And then, you know, we'll see. The most important thing to know is that even if you're lonely now, you will not always be lonely. I won't promise a lot of things, but I will promise you that. There's always something to live for.

"Sometimes you're flush, and sometimes you're bust, and when you're up, it's never as good as it seems, and when you're down, you think you'll never be up again. But life goes on."

- Blow

++

"Why do the stars shine?"

"The stars shine so we can locate each other when we're far away. So I can see, 'I see the big dipper,' and you can say, 'yes, I see it too.'"

The Butter Melts Out of Habit, You Know, the Toast Isn't Even Warm

Habits are really strange. You might not even realize you have certain habits because they're so insignificant, like the direction in which you brush your teeth every night. And you can get away from those habits, something in your life can change, but it's so easy to revert back to the patterns you followed before. Sometimes habits are comforting; they're consistent, they're familiar, they're right where you left them. But then you realize that they're there and it's strange and you can't stop yourself.

I have a habit of brushing my teeth in a certain way every time. I rinse my mouth out in a pattern with a yellow cup -- first with hot water, then cold, then hot, then cold water to rinse out the sink. It keeps the water temperature even. I rotate in the same positions every night trying to fall asleep. My fingers have learned habits so I type my password immediately after my email address even when it's not necessary. I read the comics in the same order every morning while eating breakfast. I sit in the same seat in the same metro car at Cote-Vertu every time, every single time. Walk down the stairs, turn right, it's the second door in the car after the TV, the seat across from the metro map. When I ride with other people I make them sit there too.

Sometimes habits are disarming. When you realize what you're doing it's sudden, it's awakening. Sometimes your feet just walk and before you know it you're at the bus stop and you don't know how you got there. Then you furrow your brow and try to think about it, but it seems inconsequential, takes too much energy --

And we learn other people's habits too. We come to expect the way someone answers the phone, we feel comforted by the smells of shirts because someone washes them that way, we are balanced by another's routines, "making a temporary sense of the senseless, choreful day". When it changes we are alarmed, suspicious. We want things to go back to normal. Your life is unnerved when you build your habits around someone else's habits and then their habits change.

Returning to old habits feels weird -- why do I always sit in the same spot? Is it really necessary? But then I sit there anyway, just because. Just because it's easy, and I remember it. Perhaps my habit remembers me. It says hello, it welcomes me back, and though it may be uncomfortable at first because I don't want it! I don't want it anymore!, I eventually settle back into my routine and then I forget that I had ever tried to do something different.

It's hard to change a habit. There's just nothing else to do, it seems. It's lonely, a little, realizing you haven't changed at all. It hurts, thinking that you can't. You convince yourself you don't need to change anyway, after all, your morning routine is harmless. It's not killing anyone. So then everything is the same, all the time. All the goddamn time. The places you go, the bars you haunt, the streets you walk, the words you say, they're all the same, the places you go, the bars you haunt, the streets you walk, the words you say, they're all the fucking same.

So you resign yourself to a life of grayish suits, tired shoes, and a battered briefcase.

the trapeze act was wonderful but never meant to last (blindsided)

iv.

overstepping my boundaries for the first time. this is what happens when you write yourself into a corner and cover yourself with words that mash together into one incoherent mass of letters.

the morning was a love letter. the night is a taking back of sorts, a retraction and a removal of the early fog. perfection is so hard to retain. it's a standing at the top of a mountain; one step in every direction is down, and sometimes the fall is just free. is the point of it all to stand still? we will never get anywhere.

now every letter counts. every word counts more than the next, till the taste of your name is heavy on my tongue. so my speech is slurred, so i'm t-t-tired, so i can't spit it out. i lift books during the day like weights. i hope there's something in this universe waiting for me in the sky, 'cause i'm headed there, i'm headed there and i'd like to float around. i'd like to write your name between the clouds. this [blank] is such a mess.

v.

why'd you leave?

i miss you and i never had you. i get you mixed up with everyone i know. i see you everywhere, like you never left, but you just don't recognize me. would i want you if i had you?

i made a wish, threw my heavy heart to the bottom of the pool.

it always comes back to you. i saw a baby once, sitting on her mother's lap. she looked at me with blue eyes and smiled. her mother kissed her, the cheek. the baby was completely unaware. i wanted to cry for everything i had lost.

there's no way to get it back. the words i've said, those individual little letters that hardly mean anything at all, they've gotten away from me.

"those who've gotten away from me:

read this, and call.

those whom i've hurt:

i wanted everything, or not enough.

it was all my fault."

words don't call back and accept apologies. they lie there, on real pages or on virtual ones, existing. i caused them all.

the baby didn't know who she was. did she feel the kiss on her cheek? did she put her tiny finger to the spot, afterwards, to feel some remnants of love or the moisture of soft lips? in the worst way possible i wanted to steal her memory, but there is none of that.

vi.

mother, i'm terribly, terribly afraid of everything [she] loves. why is life so fragile?

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.

++

And In Short, I Was Afraid

But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
though I have seen my head [grow slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet -- and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
and I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
and in short, I was afraid.

T.S Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

++

I have a fear of bikes. Really. I'm afraid of going too fast, afraid of losing control, afraid of getting hurt. I'm afraid of getting my pants stuck in the gears. I'm afraid of the gears ripping a hole in my leg.

It might be because of that time I hurtled full speed down the steepest hill my 6 year old eyes had ever seen and flipped over the handlebars. My aunt decided to walk her bike down but my cousin rode down so I did too. I just followed people in those days. I rode right into a pile of rocks and forgot what brakes were for.

I don't want to get hurt. Hurt, (how could you have forgotten?) hurts. I don't want to die.

++

I'm also afraid of horses, which is really stupid considering I went to horseback riding camp for two years. I followed my cousin there too.

It's not just that, though. I'm afraid of drowning. I like the air, I like the ground, and I like both to be readily available. Maybe it started in Mexico when I followed my cousins into the ocean and was gasping for breath, for control of something -- the water, the ground, my limbs maybe, -- something that would get me out of there. I discovered the ocean is beautiful from the shoreline.

I'm afraid of driving too fast. I don't even drive. It's not even the accident potential, it's the I'm-afraid-the-car-is-going-to-blow-up feeling, which is less likely to happen than an accident. I have no control. When I was little I never liked when my dad twisted and swerved. As the highway whizzed by I quietly imagined car crashes in the backseat.

I guess it goes without saying that I'm afraid of airplanes too. I don't want to crash in the ocean. I don't even think I'd make it to the ocean, let alone the emergency exit. I'm afraid of the oxygen masks the lady in the video so calmly puts on, like the last seconds of her life aren't just ticking away. I like my own air. I like my feet on the ground. Real ground.

Maybe it started some eight years ago, when I suddenly realized I was about to fly over the ocean in a giant piece of metal. I was going to England with my grandmother and I was about to say goodbye to my dad. Maybe it was because I was afraid to leave, or maybe I was seized with a panic and certainty that we were going to crash. I refused to even go to the boarding gate. My grandmother cried, she thought I didn't want to go with her. And right then, I was afraid to tell the truth.

I can't control anything on a plane. Turbulence practically makes my heart stop. I don't want my last meal to be plastic chicken. I don't want to die in a place where no one outside the plane can reach me. I don't want to die in no man's land. I don't want to die. And I don't want to survive on a plank of wood because I don't want to be eaten by sharks and I don't want to die of starvation, 'cause then I'll really wish I'd eaten the plastic chicken. I don't want my last meal to be plastic chicken.

I don't want to nosedive into the ground. If it wasn't clear, I'm also afraid of roller coasters.

Other things I am afraid of: Jumping too high on the trampoline, skiing down double black diamonds, skiing, cancer, hospitals, not recording everything because I am afraid of forgetting.

What it comes down to is this: I'm afraid of pain, and I'm afraid of dying because I'm not ready to go. Hurt hurts. Every single one of my fears is based on dying.

But more than that, I've been afraid to live. This is something I've known for a long time. I've felt it, as people moved faster than me in other directions, and I stood there because I'm too scared to move. This is something I've struggled with; how do people do it? How come my cousin went down the hill without a scratch? How come everybody I know likes to drive fast?

I'm afraid of the physical things and the mental things. I'm afraid of knowing things and not knowing things. I'm afraid I'm doing it all wrong.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
would it have been worth while,
after the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
after the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor --
and this, and so much more? --

T.S Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

++

It was Christmas 2008. The first time I had ever spent Christmas somewhere without snow.

I don't know why, but I'd just had the urge to go to California. I missed the weather, the clouds and the rolling fog, the ocean from from a safe distance, the big houses, the other world. I missed San Francisco, which felt safe, and Berkeley, which felt cool and homely.

It was fun to watch people walk down the street wrapped up in their jackets and hats and earmuffs in 11 degree weather. Somewhere north of the border there was a snowstorm happening.

I loved the decorations on the houses. Outside it looked like spring, and yet, there was santa on a roof. There were reindeer in the yard. It's weird to imagine Christmas with no snow but I loved that crisp feeling in the air. I loved the smell of Berkeley, the shops, the streets, the laughter. I loved my aunt's house, the sheets, the cat, breakfast in the morning. The colours of the flower petals were more vibrant, the food more organic. Yes, everything there is good, good, good. I felt good.

But it turns out there are scary things in Berkeley too. More things I'm scared of, like people. Also, there's me. Sometimes I'm scared to know who I really am. Sometimes I'm scared that someone might see me. You know, really see me.

There are also bikes in Berkeley.

And hills. Big hills.

Do I dare
disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

T.S Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

We decided to go for a bike ride on Christmas morning. I'm afraid of bikes. I used the smallest one, which even then was too big. I tried not to be afraid, but it's hard when you're afraid of everything.

Going for a bike ride up a hill with my family? The irony wasn't lost on me. I'm afraid of getting hit by a car.

The top of the hill was beautiful. I could see the whole city. I could see the clouds and the rolling fog, the houses with lights and decorations. I could see forests of trees which seemed to be greener than any I'd ever seen at home.

The only way back was down, down, down. My cousin began his descent easily, breezily. Even my aunt went ahead of me, experienced and steady. I started after them, slowly. I guess I still follow people. My cousin was way ahead. Occasionally I could see the back of my aunt's windbreaker, puffed up with the wind, at the corner of a turn. My hands were gripping the handlebars tightly, my stomach was tense. My fingers were holding the brakes halfway, ready to do the full squeeze at any time.

The thing about going downhill is that you don't need to pedal. Gravity will take care of everything. I don't really want gravity to be in control, I want to decide how fast or slow I go. The thing with gravity is you don't have a choice. No one does.

My cousin made it look easy, riding down a mountain. Everyone makes it seem that way. I remembered that last time I followed a cousin down a mountain on my bike.

But I was already going down. My aunt and my cousin were getting further and further ahead of me. And then it just clicked. I was in San Francisco. It was 11 degrees. It was Christmas. I was outside, I was alive, I was in love with the big scary world. Maybe there was something waiting for me at the bottom, maybe there wasn't. It didn't really matter. I loosened my fingers on the brakes. I let go.

There is something very freeing about flying down a mountain when you don't want to. The colours blur together, the air fills your lungs, the ground disappears --

There was nothing at the bottom. The road continued as it does, as they all do. I crossed it and went home.

The truth is that I'm still afraid. This could be one of those stories where my life changes for the better when I finally let go of my fears. But it's not. I went back to Montreal and stayed the same, for the most part. But that's not the point. The point is that I did it. I left Prufrock at the top of the hill. For a glorious half hour I sailed through life. I opened my heart and touched the sky.

Let us go then, you and I,
when the evening is spread out against the sky...

oh, do not ask "what is it?"
let us go and make our visit.

T.S Eliot - "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"

can this still turn out to be a love poem?

[this is a night post, meant to be read late at night, or, really really early in the morning]

her voice sung around me, and everything felt very loud. i was thinking about amanda, about summer, taking pictures in the city. it doesn't take much for my heart to settle quietly in someone else's chest. and when the song was over, it began again. i didn't want to say goodbye because i knew it would all begin again.
i wish that you were not so afraid of disappointing people, because you never disappoint me. i wish you were happier i wish that happiness came from me somehow. i wish you knew how smart you were, how you outstrip us all. oh hey did you know this is you: "i remember every instance when you stung me you're so lovely oh you're so smart. so go turn their heads, go knock them dead, go break their hearts." i should just say that to you cause that's you, that's really really you so here you go this is for you. everything is for you. and i read you in stephen dunn sometimes too. yes on page 90 and 91 there you are. i think stephen dunn meant to write someone else in the pages, he's also trying to avoid someone in his mind but it never works i know i've written poems like that too. trying to keep you off the page never works. also know that most of what i've written is borrowed somehow from someone more brilliant than i could ever be (this is me trying to write footnotes).
and i wish you were here right now or i wish that i was there with you.


"once we get to the end of this song then another will begin. so you said, in our bed. i was watching light ship through blinds to find your skin..." - okkervil river "get big"

Life Is So Quick And Sometimes It Goes Away Too Quickly

It's my favorite time of year, spring. Something about the world changes in March, I'm sure of it. I didn't write in my journal during February and March last year. That's a good thing. It means I wasn't dying.

------------


------------

Now's a good time to write a song about the people I love. Or have loved. I think so much about love that I don't even know what it is anymore.

This scar is a fleck on your porceline skin, you tried to reach deep but you couldn't get in..

Live through this, and you won't look back.

But we always live through it. What else can we do? What else can we do but raise our tired bodies off the ground and keep living. What else do we do except pick ourselves up and keep moving. Affirmative action. We must always move forward.

-----------

"I love that a list like this always must extend itself, and must exclude, slash. Loving: such a ruthless thing." - Stephen Dunn "Loves"

Movies to buy:

• Milk

CD's to purchase:

• Coldplay - Viva La Vida
• Stars

Things to Do:

• experience
• take more pictures
• write
• celebrate

-----------

sometimes i dont like punctuation
i like to learn
i never used to care if my friends loved me
but now i do.

If I haven't lived to the fullest it's because I didn't know how.

[if I haven't loved you it's because I didn't know how.]

-----------

I've got
two bags of popcorn and a pack of licorice in my locker. I overindulge when you're away, but my life seems less full. [more empty]. That's the nicest compliment you'll ever get from me and you're not going to read it.

I never used to care if anyone loved me, but now I do. Because I've discovered that I love other people.

I'd like to write a book where the good guy loses. 'Cause sometimes that happens in real life,
you know.

------------

[Attention: Service is slow on the green line from Angrignon to Lionel-Groulx.]
Attenion: this is the story of my life. A lot of people are angry. I'm kind of waiting for someone to push me into the metro doors as they rush past, so desperate to get to work on time. I wouldn't even mind waiting for the next one, but I too, have some place to go. I haven't panicked or worried. I'm apathetic in fact. This is a sign, I think.

Attention: We are all trying to get somewhere. I already know where I'm going, I already have my routine planned out. Our goal is this: to get from here to there and not break down in between.

Here, to there. There and back again. On s'en fou des autres. Just don't get in my way.

Are you late because of the metro? She asks. Sure, he says. Sure.

----------

She laughs like it's the funniest thing she's ever heard and I want to punch her in the face, 'cause I hate her, I just hate that dumb bitch.

----------

Books that have stayed with me:

• the perks of being a wallflower
• the neverending story
• losing forever

and

• the hitchhikers guide to the galaxy

because it taught me how to fly and that a towel is all I might ever need.

----------

Sometimes I worry my computer will crash and everything I have will be lost but I still never back up my hard drive. I have a lot of irrational fears, this isn't one of them though. It's irrational because it's never happened to me, but it has happened to a lot of other people therefore making it rational. I read an article about a guy who lost all 500 pictures of his baby son because he forgot to back up his hard drive. I have a lot of pictures and documents I'd be really upset about if I lost them. Kind of like if my house burned down. Sometimes I worry about that. It seems irrational but it happens to people. Just not me, yet. Hopefully never. I think the first thing I would grab if my house was on fire is my laptop. I would probably trip and fall down the stairs though. Such is life. I'm not really nervous about this because I doubt it's going to happen. But I think about it, and I wonder if my house is on fire or if we've been robbed or if I dropped my Obama pin leaving school the other day and I did and I'm sad. I'm sad when something innocent is lost but I don't envy the innocent.

Today I was thinking that I don't have enough stories to tell and that means I should go outside more often or be more sociable or live more on the edge. Then I thought that I don't know how to do that so I should become a recluse and invent stories. But I don't really want to do that. Stories only come in retrospect so maybe by the summer I'll have a story to tell, something to write about. I mean, I've got stories, everyone's got stories. But are my stories worth telling?

Actually, I always knew that this would happen. That coming out of my depression would mean I wouldn't be able to write well anymore, wouldn't be able to find inspiration, would not have that sense of creativity, or artistry. That it would all be bland, really bland, boring, forced. I just never thought I'd come out of my depression.

And I never thought happiness would be so fucking boring. [I must not be happy then.]

"And the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap"

I just want to feel. I never thought I'd say this, but I want to fucking feel something, like the way I did before. I want to feel the way I did, to the extreme, with passion. I want everything to hurt so much that I have to scratch at my skin to try and get to my heart so I can rip it out because it's swelling and it might slide into my stomach at any second. Dear God if you exist never let me settle for anything less than passion. I just want my anger back, burning sadness is better than apathy. Dear God I want to be full of emotion. I want it to hurt.

----------

I think people misinterpret my body language sometimes. Really, they are just totes off the mark.

----------

"Oh, the importance of ground
when leaving the ground."
- Stephen Dunn "Loves"

running, returning

So what else do you do besides feel?
Contemplate the unusual and analyse human behavior.

Do you ever get tired of that?
Yes.

What do you do then?
Enter in a scholarly conversation with myself.

Define 'scholarly'.
I was JK.

Do you think talking to yourself makes you crazy?
No.

Do you think there's a point to this?
Maybe. There must be if I keep doing it.

What do you miss most about the past?
My old house.

Why?
It reminds me of flowers, and summer.

---------

And sometimes when you're on, you're really fucking on.
- Rilo Kiley "A Better Son/Daughter"