love is a burning thing

“Bury this bone and take this pine cone,
Bury this bone, to gnaw on it later”
-Joanna Newsome



Let's not start off on a sappy note, shall we? I'm not in the mood.

What I want is to feel the words in my mouth like pebbles and be able to pick out which ones are right. Pick them out, one by one, covered in spit and place them here, so that I can explain. So that I can explain something I don't think I have ever been able to put into words.

If it were you, what would you do? Would you sit and croak and cry and feel sorry for yourself and everyone else who had the unconsciousness enough to approach you? Or would you pull up those bootstraps and put on a pretty face?

Make nicey-nice for the crowd?

I can't tell you what you would do, because I don't know how to answer the question myself.

It's a hard one.

What if love left your life? What if, even though you had the phantom of a memory of love in the back of your head but your skin felt like lead, like dirt, like poison...and you were afraid that even leaving the house would cause you to infect everything?

That just waking up could infect your beloved? The person that brought you this salvation from yourself...That just being in the world at all was what caused floods and earthquakes and tornadoes? Caused people to feel pain and caused people to feel hate? Would this be too much for you? Or would you flip the world the bird and be as strange and sick and harried as you want to?


This has been the state of me. I don't care anymore who reads this...(also I know it is just a handful of people anyway)

I am sick of keeping up appearances. I have the cinders inside me to start something good and bright and mine and everything I do is make steely weapons to keep the monsters away. This fucking depression is not going to get the better of me. Not this time.

So I don't want to get out of bed. So I wish the whole world would just melt into my background...I have important things to savour. I have love to savour, though it has been a tricky beast.

I want to write. But most people don't even know that about me. Why? Because I'm scared. Wimpy little child never wanting to start because she's afraid to fail. Fuck that! I keep saying that I want to write...but what stops me? Nothing...I stop myself...Because I think I'm not good enough or because my mother thinks I should go to secretarial school.. I am too easily defeated. WELL ENOUGH OF THAT.

Welcome, my pretties, to a new age. The only thing I have to thank is love.

"Seems everything I like's a little bit stronger, a little bit thicker, a little bit harmful for me..."

Someone just asked me when I was going to write some more. Said it had been a while since I wrote a new post. Now is probably not the best time, since I'm at home in between washing and drying cycles at the laundromat.
I hate the laundromat. Still, listening to Rufus while I tug the wet clothes from the heavy duty washer and lug them over to the dryer helps a little. His sometimes hazy-lazy voice makes me drift off, makes me ignore the crackhead asleep in the plastic chair in front of the blaring television set, propped high above the machines, probably so nobody steals it. He makes me forget. But then Johnny Cash, that rascally raconteur chuggs onto my Shuffle in to make me sigh with recognition that I, too, have fallen into a ring of fire.

"I fell for you like a child,
Oh, but the fire went wild..."


Thanks Johnny, Godess rest your soul.

Gawd, I thought I was depressed BEFORE

Just heard Kevin Federline's new song. If that's what you want to call it...I'd prefer to call it a piece of shit. Oh my...it's truly awful. Now I feel worse than I already did and considering that my insides feel outside, that's not good folks. I'm pretty sure I am being replaced at work too, by possibly the most chirpy chippy with a major love on for the sound of her own voice. I know I know don't be hatin' and I DO despise this place...but still. Of course I could just be jumping to conclusions...Frustration Nation!

One of my all time annoyances has to be somebody commenting on my food when I'm eating at my desk at work. The miniscule kitchen at work doesn't provide me with enough stimulation for dining...so I eat at my desk. Perfectly fine with the boss thank you very much for asking. Anyway, it never fails that someone has to say..."ooooh, what's that you're eating? MMMM...Smells good." Total creep factor, there I'm sure everyone agrees, right? I mean, GET YOUR OWN!

But it also never fails that some dimwit with his head firmly planted in his asshole makes a comment like "ooh, that's a big lunch. Better watch the pounds! HAhahahahah." Is this funny to you, bucko? Feel like berating me cause your wife's a fat bitch and all those fantasies you've had about me while I deliver your mail and you stare at my ass are being ruined by me having a fucking slice of pizza? ARGH! SHE-HULK MAAAAAD!

It's just so goddamned rude. My upbringing may have made me a little insecure, as I mentioned yesterday, but at LEAST it provided me some manners. God, were you raised by wolves? Actually, wolves would NEVER do that. I'm pretty sure staring longingly at another wolf's food will get your wolf butt torn into shreds.

Now I've lost my appetite. That and the zipper on my pants broke.

Kay I'm a little insulted by the Google ads on my blog today. Procrastination. Understanding Your Own Mind. HHMPH! How do those jerks know me so well?

Could I BE any more insecure?

I have often wondered what it takes to be truly hot. Is it a specific turn of pout, a blindingly shiny head of hair, a rack that just won't quit or a waist with the circumference of a coffee cup? What the hell is it?

What I have discovered is that I lack the one thing that makes anyone truly sexy...confidence. I have observed even the skankiest looking chicks working a room like a pro because of that confident gleam that comes from thinking you're the sshiznit. Maybe it's that slow, whitling and undermining Scots Protestant upbringing of mine. Don't show off, don't rock the boat, don't dress like a tramp. Dunno.

What I do know is that, as a result, I can't take the gentlest of compliments without burning red or making some sort of excuse along the lines of "no, really, I'm a piece of garbage..."

I look through the magazines that the receptionist leaves at the front desk and make myself feel worse. I'm not thin enough, my tits are too small, my ass is too round...AND I can't afford any of these fucking clothes!!! It's shameful, I know, to be this self obsessed. It's a damn shame, really because it certainly distracts me from feeling crappy about other aspects of my life, like my career, family and friends. Let me tell you, ain't nuthin more depressing than feeling fugly on top of that.

When I think about it, I figure money could go a long way to fix it...A well made (READ: EXPENSIVE) pair of pants fits a girl with a behind WAY better than cheapos. And I have, what I believe to be, good taste. If only I could afford my taste.

I have now abandoned the idea of plastic surgery as a viable option for confidence building. My attempt at liking my bod the way it is, I guess. It's not entirely failing as an approach either. I'm thinking maybe some dance classes or maybe I should get my ass back on stage to sing, that usually helps. Might be a good idea to relieve some of the office stress, too.

So my homework for French class is done. Joy. Work is boring and I wish I could watch my Montreal Canadiens beat the snot out of the Florida Panthers tonight...but I've got class. Also my Habs can't seem to bloody win at home, so maybe it's for the best.
I have a question...why are all the blogs I come upon either porn, christian kookies or right win nutbags applauding the appointment of Alito or whatever that fascist's name is? Someone please tell me. I've grown weary of sluts and idiots.

GOM, GOM, GOM...You've been Gom so long.

Kay. The former Liberal governement under Chrétien is in a pickle. Seems they padded a few pockets for Ottawa friendly advertising in Québec to boost the feds' image. Kinda backfired, guys.
Now, every dude and dudette in the opposition has fodder for relentless proclamations of Liberal Indecency and Irresponisiblity and Tomfoolery. Christ, I can just hear Harperbot rattling on in my head as I sit here sipping piss-poor coffee. Thanks alot Gomery! Bet those Ad dudes were drinkin' better coffee, lattés probably, what with all those million dollar contracts to tattoo maple leaves on their backsides. And now I have to listen to Harper and his harpies harp on it until the next election. Did I, did the Canadian people, REALLY need to know? Shit, I guess. It was tax money AND MAYBE I would be sipping lattés right now if they knew where to put the money. Doubt it, though. They just would have found some other way to waste my tax money. And why couldn't they have involved Charest in this crap?...FOR THE LOVE OF GOD can we not find SOME way to get rid of him? I'm so tired of him, calmly telling us that there isn't enough money to go around, that "daddy" is strapped for cash as I watch one of the primary institutions responsible for separating(ooh, y'all hate that word dontcha?)Canada from the U.S., slowly leaking down the tubes. Fuckin Liberals. Not that the fuckin Tories are any better...worse in fact. But do my beloved NDP really have what it takes to run my country? Well, better than running it like a country club, no? Cause that's what the Gomery Inquiry boils down to for me. Rich people thinking they can manipulate those around them, especially those they look at as second class citizens. Bloody stupid really cause I don't think ANY amount of glossy ad campaigning aimed at whitewashing Ottawa's relationship with Québec would change Quebecers minds. If anything it would make them more bitter. WHAT a stupid fucking idea...and now this. Gom catching them by the short and curlies...Did they not even question the possiblity that they could get caught?
Gosh, I guess it does make me a little mad! It's not the money that makes me the most mad...It's the really DUMB idea. Same reason I get pissed when I think Chrétien's governement had no plan if there was a YES vote. Nothing. They were just gonna say..."Well, sheesh...did we mention that the question was worded wrong?" GOD! Even children know there are no "take backs". You agreed to it and thought that you'd win by a mudslide, and then didn't have a backup plan. There are no takey backies!
When the fuck is this government going to get a plan??!!!? I want to see a plan, Martin. Cause the wave is turning back and should we not want to get caught in the undertow of Québec sovereignty again...it's gonna take a hell of a lot more than some glossy ads to hold it back.