Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Day 364

From KPG
Sorry, Wrong Number. I may not understand the body, and it can be debated about the mind, but I do know more than you think. You can lose your chance with me in a blink. Be honest, don't lie. You're making things unwind. It's a shame you can't tell me many things and others are just a lie. I've caught you in a lie. You're making this liking thing die.
Fuck this rhyme shit. I'm going to speak my mind.
Turn off the discretion. Trust half of what you say. The rock of Gibraltar is a place people live. Although a kissing rock sounds just damn fine. Spiders are swallowed in sleep but you shouldn't worry, you're a snake. But thanks for making me not worry.
My phone lists missed calls. Oops.
Discretion back on. Sorry, wrong number. Try harder if you know I'm worth it, otherwise slide away.
Sss, rawr, scoff. A liar is a major turnoff.
Maybe this discretion knob is broken. I can understand you not calling. I have a life and you don't need to be a part of it if you don't want to. But I was at least worth the truth or the right number.
Sorry, wrong number. Sorry, right email. I should have learned from this book I read, never to trust a serpent. Was I wrong in giving the benefit of the doubt, into thinking that he's worth it?
Not angry, just disappointed. I'm stronger than most of the girls you know. I'm strong enough to keep off the discretion long enough to press send.

From JA
As always, we walk along the roads that we choose. We cross the path of other's sometimes by force, sometimes by coincidence, sometimes for no reason. My road has crossed the paths of many, some of whom I wish I hadn't. Others, I savour the memory of. Your road is your own, and while I would wish it to run parallel to mine, or even intertwine, my path has been jagged enough not walk alone always, but walk beside others when I can.
Not too long ago someone from my past started speaking to me of when we had been walking side by side. They said that they realized that whenever there was any form of conflict, or any real concern, I would stand apart. Much like you feel, I am not on your side, nor was I on theirs. They told me that "though we were together, and I thought you were on my side, you were always gone. You're always on your own side." I suppose that is the way I've lived. I feel truly alone when I walk along the open, and it gives me the conviction to seek out those who would walk beside me. And as much as I may desire it, few have been able to walk with me.
For the time being I suppose that is the way it is. There's no real fate, only the act of looking back that imposes narrative. It makes me wonder, which of the curses of misfortune started? Was it a broken mirror some years ago, or one of the many written ones cursing my happiness if I failed to aid them?
To me it doesn't matter. I hold no worries over you, despite how others may. I know you are strong, but I can see where you are. Your power will serve you well, as it will give you the strength to walk whatever path you see fit. If our paths part, then they will. We should enjoy our time together as much as it can. But no matter. What comes will come. We will both choose our paths. Through dark or light, the books of experience and time shall be read if we choose to open them. Many hold truths, many hold absence thereof. Some both.
That which once was, Is no longer.
And you are worth more than you can imagine. But now is neither the time I can show you it, nor the time you can see it.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Monday, December 28, 2009

Day 362

Today I got blown off, took an epic ride through the ttc, saw some beautiful graf, had a good burger, got some boots which are excellent, got sick, fell into bed, swirled through a sick sleep for 7 hours and had another dream of past walking.
Upon my return to a past life 8 years ago, I didn’t alter the future, I went to a supermarket, fought with my sister, ate cookie dough, and ran the 50 mph man.
And the moral of the story is:
My dreams are only “normal” when I’m sick. How’s that for irony. Most nights my dreaming is something out of a Lovecraft story, but to get to normal dreams it requires I be sick. That’s broken. I’m not making plans for tomorrow. Two days running my plans have been blown off or cancelled. Not happening a third day running.

Day 361

Running to fast to think today.
Life is good.
Life goes on.
I wish I could do more for people, for myself, but I can’t always. Be it this way or that, we have to follow our paths.
In a few generations after we pass they’ll be nothing left, no one to muse over us.
So live now, be happy. Hold the ones you care about. Kiss the ones you love. Travel far and wide to pursue what you want. Live now and look forward to a new day.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Day 360


I live in the north-west district, Bakers it’s called, near enough to the water, mid way between the river and the center of the city. I've lived here most of my life. My family was here before me. Fourside was good to them. It isn't to me. It was for a while, but sometimes life doesn't work the we hope it does. My family should be here.

It was the loss of our daughter that did it. My wife and I had moved here, into this apartment, and in no time at all we had a daughter. Our lives went on. She grew up as a marvel, and we did what we could to provide for her. She loved to colour and draw. All kids do at some point, but she stuck with it. She drew amazing pictures. Her imagination was a gift to us every day. We hung them around the house like art. Her art. She was our little artist. She grew up and went to school. My wife and I had our rough patches, but we we’re still together for the most part.

Then, one day, she didn’t come home from school. The police said she was hit by a car on her way home. It tore us apart. I couldn’t console my wife. I tried, but neither of us bonded together. While our daughter held us tight as our love, her disappearance from our lives stole our happiness. My wife left soon after. I don’t know how she’s doing now. I wish I could say that I cared like I once did. I get a letter from her every once in a while. She said she was thinking of moving to the West coast, to Onett or maybe Santa Monica. The stamp was from the town of September. I don’t write back.

Every day I wake up and go to my job. I think of my daughter, my artist. My days blur together. I miss my family. I miss my life. But most of all, i miss her.

Night here is different than other places I’m told. Buildings seem to move and the city twists into a different place. People who stay up say that if you look the right way, you can see people that couldn’t be there. I can’t remember how many nights I’ve stayed up looking for my daughter.

When I sleep my dreams are filled with her drawings. I’ve been drawing even. New pictures that come from nowhere. I’ve never been good at it, but sometimes I look down at a blank piece of paper and see something that my daughter could have drawn for me.

I don’t have much in my life anymore. I haven’t gotten anything from my wife in a long time. My time for work is over. I sleep through most days. At nights I walk through the streets, visiting places where we use to go, in better days, when she was with us and we were all together and we we’re a family. The coffee shops and the bakeries. Looking past the tops of apartment buildings, through the jungle of buildings to the seas bordering our city, out past the fogs to lands across the way. I watch the fog every evening, as it rolls in off the lake and covers the city. The fog feels cold tonight. I miss my artist.

“Where am I?”

“You’re where you came to be, more or less.”
“So this is it?”
“For you, yes. It’s our general practice to let you ask a few questions if you want to, before we get things going.”
“Why did you take my daughter?
“We don’t take people, not usually at least. Your daughter was quite exceptional though. She made quite an impression and was even selected to play the Game. She lasted six days before being erased. We’re still seeing her influence throughout the city now. She was an extraordinary girl.”
“I don’t- I don’t know what all that means.”
“All it means is that your daughter excelled had an impact. She came to us and went on to help the city. You should be proud.”
“I- I am”
“I’m glad. “
“What happens now?”
“Now? What happens now is what comes next.”

Friday, December 25, 2009

Day 359

Got to sleep eat, be merry, etc. I’ll have something longer tomorrow. I love wigwam. Their socks make me smile through the cold wet winter. Merry Christmas to all, Xmas to few, Winter-een-mas to gamers and happy holidays to you!

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Day 358

Today is Christmas Eve. Be merry, go to bed full and be happy, for tomorrow is a new day and a birthday that most people are allowed to rock out to. Eat well, forget any pretense of dignity and enjoy and relish in your vices. See you tomorrow.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Day 357

I spent most of this day asleep. Dinner was Chinese and my evening was spent nothing nothing productive, which was fine. Some icy tangerines, internet, webcomics and reading the way holidays should be. Oh, and a new rule to add to the growing list.
Rule 36 – Booty calls are only valid for eight (8) hours after they are made.
So on a completely unrelated note, I’m a fan of table top rpg’s. I’ve played a few campaigns under different settings and rather enjoy the CoC system. My time spent with dnd is biased as the dm had us in a completely custom world, but it was loads of fun. I’m sitting here under my lovely blanket thinking of how to spin this story I’m thinking of. So why not do what I’ve done before and smash projects together? While I enjoy playing table tops, I’ve run a few, so why not run another? Only this one will be of my making. In the same way my old dm took what he liked and made the rest, I’ll do the same.
So some thoughts on the matter. Character builds, combat approach, settings, magic, system builds. Woo.

Day 356

I’m done. My exams are over. My term is over. This term I worked hard. I went to class, did practice questions, studied, and actually tried to do well. Of course, this is higher education I’m talking about so all that doesn’t mean shit if karma is on my side. Hobbie-ho let’s go. I’ll look at my marks first day back in Hamilton. When the new term begins. In the mean time I’m back in the City and will soon be abandoned for a week by friends flying out of country. What is a guy to do? For starters my alarm is set for noon. After that I plan on reading. Being merry, having a good time, etc. Holiday festivities.
A good evening out tonight. If you’re around Main and Kingston, check out Grover’s pub. It was a surprisingly comfy atmosphere with a sauce on the chicken wing s that is truly haunting. We knew we’ve had that sauce before but it didn’t stop us buying another basket. Anyway, it ended with an interesting and intrinsic question.
What makes you happy?
Not what you’re supposed to feel happy about. Your house, your car, your toys, your significant other, your past glory. What are the immediate things that make you willing to sacrifice your life to feel that good again?
Is it the sight of your partner lying next to you when you wake up in the morning? Does the vapour coming off the top of a cup of freshly brewed coffee make you ready to face the days? Regardless of everything in our lives that thwart our attempts at happiness, what are the small actions, the little things that we can do to be happy, for a brief instant, every day?
If your life isn’t what you want it to be, and you don’t want to risk a change, and then start with what you are responsible for, with your happiness.
If nothing else this holdiay, we should try to learn how to be happy.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Day 355

The world offers impossible things. Power that astounds. Beauty that brings an absence of words to our lips. Sights to marvel and a spectrum of incredible oddity.
But we always want more. We want what we lust after, our desires, the punishment of our fears.
Don’t feel selfish. Don’t feel guilty. It’s not your way, it’s the human way.
But what if I told you could have anything you wanted? Everything you wanted? At your beck and call, every dream you can think of brought before your eyes. The feeling of wrapping yourself in the world’s delights.
Wouldn’t you do whatever you could to attain that feeling? Wouldn’t you pay any cost to keep it for as long as you could?
Well fortunately, I’m not asking much.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Day 354

I blink with my eyes closed. The world is dark. Even if I were to open my eyes, the darkness would prevail. I scream and nothing comes out of my closed mouth. I breathe in deep and smell nothing, not the stale air nor the walls around me. I stand up ion shaky legs. I can’t see, can’t smell, and can’t even hear my own body moving. I feel numb. I know I’m moving but I’m not sure. I move my legs, or think I do. I start to run, to move my legs faster then I thought possible. I run as hard as I can, the ground moving beneath my feet. I run as if I’m being chased by the fastest nightmare that ever shook its black mane. I keep expecting to run into a wall, the crushing impact to stop me dead in my tracks, but it never comes. The ground changes under my feet, sometimes it rises, and sometimes it falls. More then once I’ve been brought to my knees, but I just get up and keep running. I don’t know what I’m running form, but it seems better then trudging away from whatever it is. I imagine wind flying past me as I race one through the dark, but I feel no wind. There’s momentum behind me running on the spot. My mouth is thirsty, but even my saliva has no taste. I keep running. I don’t know when but whatever feeling I thought I had is gone. I’m imagining myself moving silently through a shadow. No taste, no touch, no sight, no scent, and no sound. How else am I going to reach the End?

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Day 353

I exhale and a tidal wave of smoke jumps from my lips into the cold night sky. The world is sleeping around me. It’s alive under the skin, but on the surface, the city sleeps. I breathe in sharply. The cold air swirls around me. I hunch over the rail as I look down onto the city streets. It’s raining. The water pelts the black ground, mixes with the tar and grime that fill the roads, flowing soundlessly down to the sewers. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I can feel someone here. The same feeling I get when someone looks across the room and watches me for a few seconds too long to be causal. I don’t look up. It could only be a few people. No one knows about this place save the people I tell, and if anyone else did, they wouldn’t have the guts or the stomach to get here. I highlight the way, illuminate the path. A stray rain drop clips the end of my smoke. Sighing, I take out my lighter and fire it up. The heat feels refreshing and comforting against the night. I can feel the rain hitting my coat, sliding down my back. Cars pass unnoticed, scurrying to their homes. It’s not even that late. The world has to get up in the morning. I hunch back over and turn my gaze back across the street. There’s a bar at the bottom of the pit, street level windows blinking with the pulse of music lost ion the rain. People dash from the entrance to cabs, shielding themselves out of the water descending upon them. No one looks up. No one tries to catch raindrops on their tongues. This is not a place for those kinds of actions. Here, this city, is a place for judgment. To do your work, be graded, be rewarded and punished accordingly. People here live that ritual day after day, from the moment their born to the day they die. This city is dark, has forbidden the sun. I can’t remember the last time it wasn’t raining. I can hear footsteps behind me. Right on time. I invited them up here when they said they wished they could rise above it all. I turn around. He’s here. He looks nervous, scared and curious. His veins are pumping with adrenaline from having reached here. I wave him closer to me, closer to the edge. He follows my hand, waiting for instructions. I ask him what he wants. He lies. I don’t say anything. He stammers out what I’m sure is a prepare speech. I don’t say anything until he’s done. I ask him what he wants again. He gives me a different answer. I ask again and again. He wants different lives to live, wants a different job, and wants to have made different choices. Finally, he says what I’ve looking for. He tells me the truth. I’m tired of the same day, he says, over and over. I close my eyes. I had plans for this man, but now I can’t go through with them. My loss is his gain, though I’m sure others don’t see it that way. I hold out my hand and he takes it. I smile at him and he smiles back, unsure. I turn to the railing and jump up onto the precipice. He looks scarred but clumsily follows me, holding tight to my hand. Close your eyes, I tell him. He does. I can see him shaking, the rain chilling him through his thin shell of a coat. I breathe in deep and blow another cloud of smoke out over the street far below. I whisper to him. The more I say, the more I talk, the more relaxed he becomes. I tell him of a city where there is light, where the rain doesn’t dare to come. I tell him of places away from Forge, past the Teeth. I tell him of his dreams that haven’t visited him. I tell him terrible things too, of nightmares that have plagued him, horrors he can’t hide from. I whisper words that make him cry, his tears lost in the rain. I dismiss his fears and comfort his injuries. I assure him of his choices and regrets. When he is ready, I ask him once more what he wants. He tells me. I smile sadly as his head is raised to the closed sky. The rain which has soaked him to the bone pummels his fragile body. I let go of his hand and jump down from the railing. I fish through my coat until I find my bottle. I take a drink as I walk away from the empty ledge. I pull my coat closer and wonder where I’m headed as the night continues.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Day 352

A late night seizes the day. I remember one time when I wanted to right a short story of Jonathan Coulton’s song “creepy doll”. Definitely short story as the entire song tells the story well, and it’s four minutes even. Still, maybe its my love of antiquing or respect to Lovecraft, but it definitely held some promise.
On a compltely unrelated note, girl gamers are hawt. And I mean that with all the emphasis a penguin could flap. On another story, Super princess Peach is my new hero. It’s an okay platformer, but anything that makes a girl forget they’re naked and hypnotizes them to the point where I can go make food, come write and still nothings changed, is my friend.
Another add tangent away, I’m thinking of coming to the City come Tuesday eve. I can honestly say the thing I look forward to most in my week and a half of break is the food. One of my biggest annoyances with the area I live in is how little variety in the food. The City presents thai, Chinese, greek, home and lists of others. Oh and coconut rice from fusion. Can’t ever forget that place after last summer. Those guys are awesome.

Day 351

- Black Book -

still yesterday as i havent gone to bed. again.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Day 349

The day spent studying for econ. Again. I tried to go to sleep early so as to wake up. That didn’t work. Not that I slept late, I’m not sleeping at all. It’s the early morning and I’m wide awake. Serves me right for trying to sleep early I suppose and by early I mean it’s nearing 5 ish, so dawn’s in a few hours and if I did get to sleep it’d last 2 hours before alarms. So after an hour or two of lying in bed accomplishing little more then heating my comforter, I said fuck it and pulled a book to me.
And reading was excellent. I tried every hour or so to get to sleep, but here I am now sitting at my keyboard, wide awake. But the reason I’m here was more a tangent and an idea spawn from within.
“Everyone is horny to be fucked.” Fun sentiment, and stereotypically speaking, never more present then here at an institution of higher learning. Can I get a “Hell Yeah!” for floorcest? No? Whatever, back to the point.
Point was that my mind mixed economics with sex. For those of you, who have only a fleeting glance or cursory knowledge of what economics is, hold on a second, but it isn’t the final way of making sex boring. One of the few things about economics that I do enjoy is game theory. But I’ll get to that later. Economics breaks down, in the simplest of terms, to supply and demand. So my mind, took a few more steps down that road.
University is filled with people like me, unlike me and everything in between. There are students on campus who want sex. There are those who have sex. There are those who find relationships and those who take the woo-girl approach and grab the one night stands. And there are those who ignore that aspect of life completely and fuck up our bell curves. No matter.
So! Social experiment time. If I throw up some posters around campus, provide a supply, will the demand respond? It’s a curious thought. I’m not thinking prostitution, and little more then random matchmaking, but this came out of a personal interest that was discussed some time ago. Just run with it for now.
When trying to organize a threesome, where do you find additional parties, if you can’t use people you know? Nowadays the immediate answer is a fleeting glance towards the internets. Craigslist, kijiji, facebook, etc all those wonderful services which *should* be providing an efficient supply/demand equilibrium, but fail to do so ever so spectacularly. To quote a piece of spam I got recently:
“Your not alone. True: 90% of criaglist dating postings are bots. True: 5% of the real girls on criaglist are old and fat. True: The other 5% of real girls are sexy and looking to make out. But they get so many messages that YOUR message might not stand out in the flood If you hope to find real girls, criaglist is not the place.”
They suggested Facebook of Sex. Who says spam can’t be useful AND entertaining.
But it raised a cute point. If online is out, for fear of those who lurk behind shady ip’s, and picking people up at a bar is a thing for generations past then that leaves clubs and other. Clubs would be more spur of the moment alcohol induced rather then planned, so I’m looking at other. Specifically, media on campus.
Now at my place, McMaster, there are a few forms of current media that touches the student population. The campus newspaper, The Sil, chalk writing thrown around walkways grounds and walls, and poster boards run by the Poster Monkeys.
So here’s a thought. I’ll make a simple add, something akin to the vaguest personal in the classifieds (interested in casual sex and or threesome? Call…) and throw them up around campus. See what comes of it.
Worst comes, nothing happens and it’ll be five dollars of photocopied paper spent. The payoff far outweighs the costs.
Run it up the flag post. I’m curious to see how the university reacts. High probability of apathy and not even noticing, but what if…
My Exam’s at 9am, leaving me with 3 hours of free time.

Day 348

So its morning enough to be last night by an easy margin. I’m lying in bed trying to go to sleep early as I want top condition myself to get up before noon, seeing as my test tomorrow is 9am. I’m lying there are that lovely cliché of woke up in the past passes through my mind.

Not a dream, just the thought. Well it would depend how far back I woke up. High school felt right. Before that would be rather futile I suppose. But I high. I wake up I’m in my old, old bedroom, and the first words out of my mouth are wtf. Then I start realizing where I am. Then I start realize what I don’t have. My swords aren’t mine yet, I’m not living n my own place, my clothes, my computers, my games, MY BOOKS, my notebooks it’s all gone. Or at least, it hasn’t been. So I have breakfast. And I hug my family. Tell them I love them. Don’t know why, I just want to I guess. so I go off to school. On the bike I use to have in high school. And it’s weird. I get to school, don’t know what class I’m suppose to go to/be in, but I park my bike where I use to, and I see a face from my past. One of those ghost moments. So I freak out a bit. I ‘m in a steady relationship then. Long term. Whole nine yards. My life hasn’t happened. A lot can happen in five or six years

So my mind reels. I’ve had four major regrets when it comes to people in my life. 2 or three of them haven’t happen yet. What do I do/ my mind jumps to the act of finding them. Tracking them down. Then I think back to high school. I was still in karate. So there I am. And I’m excited. I’m jumping off the walls for glee. I’m back. Things are incredibly simple. Everything makes sense in hindsight. So after class I pull one of the twins aside. My mind switches and while I’m leaving I talk to one of those regrets.

I don’t know where to go, what to do.

Should I do the whole causality fuck thing, invest in the market that I know will collapse; try to tell people the future. Should I pull a back to the future and fix my life. I don’t know.

I’m lost in the sea of time. I don’t think I want to find a raft, but I want clear sky. The sky over head is full of doubt and possibility. The age old question of what if looms.

And I want to ask it.

//this didn't get thrown online yesterday, for whatever reason it got pushed to the side.

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Day 346

Today is a day that didn’t really happen. Last night went until breakfast and I decided on a nap around 11ish. Clearly it went long and I crawled out of my warm cocoon of a bed near four. And then I proceeded to do nothing. For the entire day. A fun nothing, but not much in the way of productivity. Which is fair I suppose. Tomorrow I embark on my fight to get over the next hurdle, macro econ, which comes on Tuesday. I’m not as fearful for this one, but it still warrants work tomorrow.
Oh and laundry. Food shopping tomorrow. This is a dead day and I’ll try to sleep before two. If that can happen.

Friday, December 11, 2009

Day 345

Today is the day; it all goes away, not the sum of the parts, but one group of carts. I tried to eat in, but my wobbly chin, said go on and eat out, before trying your bout.
I slept in after going to bed early, I’m going out for breakfast. Then I’ll finish the questions I put aside, when I’m done I’ll run through the more practice question, I’ll grab something quick for dinner, then take my test.
Messed up dream. Vivid and yet oddly enticing. Must be that week again.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Day 344

It’s Thursday morning, just less than two days from my micro final tomorrow night. I have spent the last week grinding myself over and over this work. Quizzes, the additional problems, notes, I even reread some of the chapters. And regardless of how well I feel here, there’s that sinking suspicion that whatever I do, however much I study, it won’t be enough. I’ll fail again and then my life will take another turn. I don’t know what that turn will be, whether it will be good or not, and that’s scary as fuck.

Because this course, my first exam, is a prerequisite to a course I need next term. A course required for my new faculty. And I don’t know why but something in me hates the idea, loathes the notion, of taking a third year of 2nd year. One in business, one in econ, one in the next.

It’s not just that I suppose. It’s the other little voice saying, you didn’t get it the first time round? This place isn’t for you.

One of my biggest pet peeves with university is the lack of adequate work payoff ratio. This is interesting as I’ve talked to a number of people on the subject and I’ve found that everyone has a mixed reaction, which is that they fall into one of three categories.

The first was high school optimal. In high school, the mark you received was directly relative to the amount of work you put in. You studied for a week, you got a good mark. This isn’t me. This isn’t everyone who rolled out of bed and naturally aced things either.

Second is university optimal. You study for a week on a subject, you get a good mark. This isn’t me, which explains several things. Primarily how I can not study much expect minimum and get between 40 and a 70. If i do study, my range moves 10points in both directions. You know, the typical, saved by the bell curve. One would then expect the payoff I’d get to be higher if I put more time in. Like this term. I went to class, I have a complete set of notes, I studied, I did questions, and I read the k’vesi textbook, something most people only if they need the extra work. This is also second time through so I should have that extra level of knowing what to do. But that’s not how it works, because I’m not in this tier.

This leads me to life optimal. You may be quick on your feet. You may be smart or intelligent or street savvy. You may be a genius. But you do not fit on the scale. This group is made up of the two extremes and I’m unlucky enough to be on the left side of the bell curve. The high end is made up of the people who walk through school. They are lucky on mc when they don’t know, they don’t study and get good or great marks. They are the people we hate, because they effortlessly make us feel like idiots for spending three weeks studying for a test only to be outshone by someone who sleeps in class and skimmed the text the hour before the test. That’s the top.

The bottoms where I’m at. I always reasoned that it makes no sense to work hard for long periods of time if there’s no additional payoff. Work smarter right? I also thought that if I did work harder, then I should get a higher mark.

Then I came to university and found that isn’t the case. There’s no direct ratio for us. Hell there isn’t even a learning curve to adhere to. Some people are brilliant. Some people are smart. Some people are fairly intelligent. Some people are not meant for education. They learn fine, but education ruins them.

So here I am. Another term, another try. It could be I’ll master my exam tomorrow. But university is a learning experience, where you learn more about yourself then any subject you study. And I’ve learnt that there is no ratio of work to payoff that I can trust. Because while I like this place, it’s not a place that likes me.

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

Day 343

it's been more then 2 years since i last touched this thing. i don't know if that makes me nostalgic or like i cut out a piece of myself and just found it on my floor under some old books while cleaning. in any case, i have a project I'm following, fairly simple in an unoriginal concept, that I'm trying to work through.

365 days.
each day write something. doesn't have to be longer then a single sentence. doesn't have to be shorter then a pages. no limit, can be fiction or non, topical or ancient. just to keep me writing, and doing something i enjoy. I'll see what comes of that. i started on 337. days have gone by. some days i will write hard, in one of the books i use, in which case I'll post the same thing as i do in my notes ( - Black Book -). it's a black note book. anyway. my hand has the day number sharpied on. so that what I'm trying.
hobie-ho, k'vesi, let's go.
ps. spelling might be an issue. just saying. same thing with language graphic, etc. proly won't be graphic, but that again i wouldn't have guessed this last year.

Two things at the start of the day. First, I’m thinking of throwing this online. I figure as long as I’m debasing myself, I might as well provide entertainment for the dredges of the internets. Second, I’ve got a line so I’m running with it.

No one expects to fall in love. Hell, mopst people I know don’t think it will ever happen. Sure they might hope, "one day”, but they don’t talk like that. My best friend is currently in a relationship with a lovely woman he loves. They live together and while they have their share of issues, they try to make it work as best as possible. I remember when we were in high school and neither of us knew much about the world, specifically love and sex, only that I enjoyed sex, and both of us we’re sure that my best friend, Zeus, would never love someone.

I think the idea was more that there would never be someone who COULD love him. Not that he’s a bad person, he just has many sociopathic tendancies. Like me, only the other half, which is probably why we fit so well together. More then one person has thought we were gay. I even remember the conversation where we ended up deciding that if either one of us were a girl, we’d be with each other and no one else. But I’ll get back to that. Or I conveniently won’t. we’ll see.

Back to high school, mid way trhough. So neither of us thought much on love. I had just came out of something big, and was playing the field. Zeus, hadn’t, and wasn’t. soon after he met Nat and after some time, he found he was interested in her. He asked her out and they had a fun time. It happened more. They got together and they both found love. He jumped off a cliff and fell so madly in love that they’re together to this day. This holiday they’’re going to mexico for a week. Leaving xmas eve and back week later. Leaving me alone for the haloidays.

One of the thinsg you don’t want to do is be alone for the holidays. I think its one of those mistletoe psychologies. At the moment I’m friendly with Mir, but still try to get about. Problem is we make a horrible couple, but we enjoy sleeping together. And when we’re back in the City, we don’t see each other because, well, Toronto is cold at christams and neither of our houses are open to our needs. Also, while cold nipples are amusing, perky and cute, frost mixed into that ruins it remarkably fast. So does frost bite. Just saying.

So that leaves me alone for the upcoming hol;iday, something hich I have done before, but it seems to loom at present. I’m not sure what to make of the future. I don’t relish the idea of not having someone to kiss in the week of freedom I have between terms, and it urks me to entertain the idea that I ask so few people out anymore.

You can’t fall if you don’t jump. Fall in love, or in bed. Either one would be good right now.