Knotty Thoughts

thinking under the influence

caught in my eye April 9, 2010

I spend a lot of time trying to explain the inconvenience of  desk perching to Sean Connery the cat.  He walks on the keyboard, bats at the mouse, leaves awkward comments on Facebook and impairs my view of the monitor.  I have to commend his persistence, though, because no matter how many times I pick him up and relocate his fuzzy orange kitty body he always eventually returns to his favoured position, rubbing my face with his while big fat purs rumble in his chest.  He head butts my hand as it tries to click on things and gets eye juice all over my fingers.  God damn adorable little fucking bastard!

You know when you wake up with a pounding head, smelling like sweat with quarters stuck to your tits that you had a good night. If my life were a movie, which scenes from a Wednesday night adventure would make the final cut? :

[couch in a bar]
her: You’re drunk, I feel like I’m taking advantage of you.
me: Well…I’m on top, so that has to count for something.

I’ll have to take a break from being a great American party girl for a day or so considering the lack of funds, booze and patrons. My depression hates me for it, but my body is thankful. It seems today I will have to get creative and dig up some distractions that do not depend so heavily on the voluntary ingestion of poisons.

As visually based as I consider myself to be, I always find it more efficient to express my innards through words. The impact and clarity they lend really makes me feel my message is being relayed with the ever present possibility of reader by reader interpretation. Visual art, of course, contains the same properties but I find little finesse in my abilities there. I tend to combine the two and litter the world with confusing, not-quite-art pieces. It frustrates me a lot of the time, I just want to create something more subtle that lets the viewer really soak an image in without having their feelings interrupted by direct captions on the work itself. I want the words without the letters, I guess that’s what fashion is for.

I wonder if civilization will eventually build up higher and higher until it collapses in on itself and burns to a crisp. I kind of hope so and I hope I’m here when it goes down. I want to be a piece of the reconstruction, a bard and a trader because this isn’t working and we need something different! There is a pile of books that I haven’t picked up in a few years and I think I’ll be reading Anthem this week just to encourage my little bits of (unwillingly) sober social revolution.

Spitting is a terrible habit that has a strangely huge impact on my life sometimes. I spit constantly and I realize a lot of innocent bystanders find it to be rather disgusting. I don’t do it on purpose! I just have to get that crap out of my body or something. The other day I began to wonder what my face must look like while I use the power of internal suction to gather up all the phlegm in the throat. Not the most appealing images…

The bus stop outside of my work is on a busy street right in front of a gym. While waiting to pull into traffic I watched the shoulders of a welled toned, tanned, middle-aged woman flex and ripple as they worked smoothly to lift a water bottle to her lips and suck its contents down. I could feel the smoke from my cig burn my eyes as the cookies (later to be joined by tequila) settled in the pit of my stomach and the THC cuddled my blood stream. Here I was at 21-years spitting blood and chunky mucus into gravel while someone twice my age was in her physical prime just yards away, it’s almost enough to make a girl feel guilty like I’m not living this existence to the fullest. My overactive imagination corrected this for me: her clear, alert eyes detected an opening in the rush hour rat race and she turned into the street.

A truck, a crash, a split second.
I was breathing still,
she was not.
I win.

If we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die (from our own arrogance) so we may as well take our time.

I do, at least, have an appealing torso.


nobody has to stay April 8, 2010

[Tuesday, April 6]
Freshly showered, writing friendly lyrics on giveaway cigarettes. There is something special about today.

My brain and I have decided to make peace, considering we have to spend so much god damn time together. Nothing has to be hard anymore. The cold wind doesn’t have to be uncomfortable, getting up early can be fun, being alone is a blessing. So much is beautiful.

I understand now that happiness is relative; it has to be, or I’m fucked. I’m still hoping to find a better adapted wet stone for my creative edge but I feel it’s only days, if not hours, beyond my reach. As if time and effort are parallel, but then maybe effort is the downside in that instance. I’ll ease up today and find out.

The air currents were restless outdoors so I dampened my little mohawk, misted it with hair spray and let the wind style it at will.
An overactive imagination engorged by the early morning snappers my lungs depend on often cause scenarios to leap through my brain.

Example: While sitting on the bus I noticed an older Japanese man eying the ‘anti-swastika’ patch I have sewn to the right shoulder of my survival jacket. My buddy Mike made if for me in a patch swap (I made him a patch that screamed Steggo! Steggo! I love you!) almost two years back. He said something to his wife and continued on in ordinary silence, but that’s not what happened in my head. I envisioned him looking at me with eyes yearning for understanding from a detached generation and saying “My country may have allied with the Nazis, but I have not.” to which my hypothetical self replied “My country may have been okay with the atomic bomb but I am not.” a handshake ensues and peaceful balance gaps a generation. Haha!
That’s a condensed moment inside my head.

Too much is always going on. The same bus ride only proved this further when I found myself watching the scrunched up face of a 3-year-old as she peered around the vehicle with unblinkingly wide eyes just feigning to soak in every last drop of visual information and the bits of mental data and analysis that must go along with them. I just wanted to send her a message via wave lengths to let her know that I understand the pressure that must be building up in her gray tissues, I full comprehend the frustration of attempting to process each and every pixel of colour, sound, action, scent and movement that assails the senses. I also know the love and passion and excitement and BLISS that come along with it. Fuck! What fortune,  I would have it no other way.

It’s so hard to wanna fight when you wish you were never born.
(Ya Can’t Go Home- Leftover Crack.)

On the more normal human end of things…

At work, the prom season is well on it’s way and I always find it entrancing to study the various dynamics between mothers/daughters/sisters/grandmothers.

One of my favorite parts of my normal day is the twenty minutes after closing the shop where I wait for the bus. Hook my ipod up to the speaker system, lock the doors and DANCE.

Sometimes I get distracted. Miss the bus. Wait for the next one. Play with self timer, windy outside. Eats my cigarettes, breaks my camera (UGH!). Wind and spit do not mix.

Subtle vandalism, justifiably harmless.

[Wednesday, April 7]
Another early morning, a strong connection with an old friend. Denial and honesty all rolled into one big fat blob mixed with a little mischievous fun and wholly inappropriate prospects. My guilt hasn’t spoken up even a little and your medicated persistence has never made me value my tenancies toward a punk rock rebellion more. Love you, though, and we’re both well aware that a long battle of bullshit and wits has just begun.

Mid day was a blur of regularity and sugar comas interspersed with obsessive minutes of repetitive piano playing and singing.

The night came to an end with heels and pretzels in the back of a truck on a highway screaming songs at the top of my lungs while drivers passing by could only assume my tequila intake had already begun. A drag show of the finest quality and a classy (sarcasm) lip locking, hip grabbing, few minutes with a lovely woman. Spending a little time with the few people I would truly consider to be friends, wholly accepting of each strange little fiber in my body was also really nice. They live in the same apartment complex as me these days, we can literally chat from our balconies.

As much as I like to avoid materialism, there are certain objects that I have a passionately emotional connection to. Oh, the sentiment. My cat needs to go on a diet.


cats are dangerous April 3, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — knottythoughts @ 8:35 am

A lot has changed.

I have been simultaneously in love and hate with everything. My brain has morphed; my mentality, perspective, thought process, ALL OF IT. The crazy has taken over and my personality has not resisted the coup in any way. The ship of reality has finally arrived and it’s time to get living.

I’ve formed big, big plans. All the things around me seem ordinary
enough, but you’ve got to look at them in a different light. All the
atoms swirling about the universe are caressing each of my senses almost
constantly. Now that I’ve taken the time, smoke and drink to adjust to
the madness it’s not so overwhelming. This is GOOD.

¡viva la locura!

I turned twenty-one almost a month ago and I’ve been drinking every night since. My head is always swirling.

All I can tell you right now is MUSIC MUSIC MUSIC. Very good things are not far off. An E induced night of friendly bonding looks to have produced a new set of skilled and mutually respected musicians ready to get drunk, get loud and run around in circles. Oh, the outlet! I need it.

My knees are bruised, but someone had to fuck up the metal pits. The show on Thursday raced by in a blur and shocked my ears by their oogling of low bass melodies and too slow drums.

The fashion is back. I’ll be sewing regularly again and am certainly looking forward to some crazy, creative shoots.

I don’t have the computer I used to, so updating has been tricky, especially for photos, but I’ll find a way so stay tuned. A god damn adventure is in the works.


lucky number nine, hurray! January 11, 2010

The neighbours beat on our shared wall and I can feel the negativity of their message vibrating through the sheet rock. I smile and put my guitar down, seal my lips. My apologies, I hadn’t noticed the time. It’s just past midnight now.

A smokey room and I’ve been living music for the last few hours. The smell of this apartment is a cry for attention from the various bits of trash and unknown things hiding about. Begging to be cleaned with pure vigor, I should leave no single place untouched. Suppose I clean out my hard drives too, put everything in the proper folder; my world would change quite completely, and to a benefit.

I can hear the innards of this old machine working hard to download five movies at once. The poor thing is on the outs and I’m just resisting an upgrade. Today quite easily managed to be interesting and blissful in it’s own sure way. My fingers ache just the right amount, my ipod is charged, and I’m deeply infatuated with a certain Pringle of Scotland pre-fall 2010 sweater look. Life is good.

My mouth tastes weird from chewing stems.
My head is still trying to escape the confusion of all the alcohol I’ve consumed.
But the wheels are turning. Happiness sparkles around me.

The last few weeks have been some sort of blissfully terrific new reality.
We’re always teetering on the edge of addiction and death and despair and I sort of love it.
Like surviving makes an ordinary life wither and pale in compairison.
The best way to understand how good it can get is to experience how bad it can get.
Or something.

I sold my Macbook for a disgustingly low price the other night out of desperation. I miss it already, some day I must have another. I crammed all the garage band files onto my external hard drive. That baby is full full full, I need a new one. So much data. My mouth waters with the knowledge of possessing it.

I’ve been receiving too much flattery in the previous 48 hours. My head is swollen with egotistical delight and I quite enjoy it. These speakers are BLOWN. There is so much to be said, I’ll just begin again tomorrow.

Oh cute little world, don’t ever end.


a tingling sensation December 30, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — knottythoughts @ 1:11 am
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

…my life can be pretty fucked up!

gosh, I used to be cute.

I used to paint my toenails.

and not give a fuck.

I was creative too.

I used to be in love.

I used to fall off my skateboard.

for a while I had close friends
the kind that let you spray paint them when they’re drunk.
the kind that keep you warm when the heat goes out
the kind that help you fill up the station wagon when dumpster diving
and never blame you for eating that chocolate.
or making strange cinnamon treats out of the pizza crust.
the kind that will always share their last cigarette with you
the kind that will write lyrics to punk songs and hide them on your computer
the kind that haggles for used skate shoes as a gift to you
the kind that bombs hills with you, even when they have loose bearings.
the kind that helps you cook a feast in an unpaid for apartment.
the kind that keeps playing even when they bleed.
the kind that accidentally breaks your ceiling fan with nunchucks
the kind that allow you to witness them shave their mohawks
let you paint their spikes.
the kind that give you hope and faith in humanity.
The kind I let go and forced away.

because I like to hear myself talk.
‘I am lucky to constantly be exposed to a ridiculous variety of experiences. I’m almost always completely consumed in this strange sense of appreciation and adoration for all things life. It can never be turned off. Everything is too interesting.’

Like right now, the speed and comfort with which my finger tips are flying across the greasy keys hitting letter after letter individually, forcing them to combine and spill my thoughts on to the page. On to my screen. On to your screen. You’re getting a sense of my life(the passion, the insanity, the awesomely fucked up-ness) from the safety of your own life. What a stunningly beautiful thing. How simply feeling the comfort I associate with typing can bring me to the brim with joy. REAL joy. It’s swirling about in my lungs at all times. My eyes are spinning, over-stimulated, desperately soaking in every last visual drop of information in my surroundings. Caressing it in brain fibers and sending a tingling bliss through my entire nerve system. Even in the two feet that have been crushed in circle pits so many times and are basically numb, they tingle now.
And don’t you want to live this?
don’t you want to look back on your memories and sigh happily with the knowledge that you’ve been living life to the fullest?
don’t you want to look forward to the future and giggle because you understand so clearly that even the most dreadful, terrible things that may occur are in their own way truly lovely?
don’t you want to be lured by the promise of new sensation?
fresh perspective?
don’t you want to be confident in your perception of actuality?

I do.
I am.
I love.

Hmm. Been hitting the bong.
But seriously, how can you let anything pass by you!
let the merriment commence!

your willingness to let yourself be happy is the key to full-blooded, unquestionable delight


bird guts and fruit cabinets December 13, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — knottythoughts @ 9:47 pm

[After a decent toke]
My puppy, Bronson, walks into the room. He snaps me out of an Al Bundy induced daze via the crinkling sound of the plastic wrapper in his mouth; for some reason the boy’s holding a fortune cookie. I put my hand out and ask him to drop it. He eagerly places it in my palm without question and without breaking the cookie. [good boy, his cute tail wags fast.]

Now, I love fortune cookies. They are crunchy, yummy and mysterious. And I’ve been having a tough time lately, so I was ready for this little slip of paper to turn everything around. To reaffirm my recent craving for change and push me to make some sort of path altering life decision. Or something like that. There’s a lot of smoke in my lungs at this point.
In any case, I crack that baby in half and quite literally gasp; the cookie’s empty.

I look at the wrapper it came in: nothing, I look at my dog: he’s asleep on the floor. No fortune? (my brain assumes this means my future is wide open; I do what I wantz bitches!) I sure as hell wasn’t expecting that, which made it all the more powerful. [and yummy, too!]

Thursday night I’m at my buddy Alfie’s place on the balcony smoking my corn cob and he just looks at me and says most girls would get cigarette extenders but you get the manliest thing possibly: a corn cob pipe. I just laugh because he’s kinda right. Between my choice of socks, tobacco products and affinity for Velcro I’m something of an old man. Alfie kidnaps my pipe for a puff; him and his ridiculous mustache.

Friday at work was fun. We got new mannequins and I kept catching glimpses of my silver pumps in the mirrors. Black sweater dress, black skinny pants and set of heels that pop. I love my new job; we’re working on a fashion show for the end of December to preview next season’s prom gowns. I’ve been granted the task of getting models; talk about a dream job, I’ve been waiting for something like this to come along. Good things this way come.

This weekend was insane. An blunt alcoholic blur. Friday afternoon starts off with me, super smoked with James and Audrey before the show. We have about a million epiphanies about the most ordinary things. I love these too with my whole soul, we have such a good time. At one point on they open up a cabinet in their shared room and ask me if I want some fruit. I ask: You have a fruit cabinet? Audrey answers: Of course we have a fruit cabinet! It’s where we keep our fruit!
I love that girl, she’s perfectly high and an exceptional conversationalist.

Oh, the show! I was rocking a pound of eyeliner and four jackets. The turnout was great, all the cool kids were there. Our set was actually bearable and Bricker kicked ass. I love my band. I love Ray’s Golden Lion. Except for the part where I was drinking shots of BV, Fireball, tequila along with car bombs and PBRs. Can you say ROUGH?! The last thing I remember is the third band playing and a shot of tequila. Next thing I know, I’m waking up on my bedroom floor. Fireball flavoured vomit burns like a bitch. I have good friends. They literally had to carry me out of the bar. Photos exist somewhere, you’ll be seeing them some time.

Saturday was a whole different story. The usual suspects and a few extras were over. I was still recovering from Friday night and having spent another lovely evening with James and Audrey my brain was a beautiful fog; so I chilled mostly half asleep in my room.
Let’s just say shit went down.
People rolled in trash, dishes were broken, the floor is boxes of PBR and a bird was killed.

Now, to really understand about the bird you gotta know about Gruber. When we first moved into this apartment we adopted a stray fat head kitty, cool as fuck; that’s MacGruber. Gruber and Grubs for short. This meow sleeps like a champ and eats like a tiger, but you can’t take the street outta the cat. He’s always aching for the outside and makes a game of sneaking out the door when a drunk girl is hitting fresh air to smoke. This time last night he makes it out onto the balcony. We don’t know how long he was out there and it wasn’t until he drags in a freshly killed birdie, guts-a-hanging, that we even knew he had left. I wasn’t out there, I just remember vaguely hearing people in the living room freak and then I faded back to sleep. This morning, the carpet was spoiled with feathers. God damn Gruber, he’s a machine.

Sunday has been chill. Just smoking and cleaning, cleaning like a mother fucker. I get most of the mess taken care of and take the best shower of my life. Washing hair is fun! I love the suds, the dreads didn’t bubble as much as this new hair does. I dig it. Thanks to the herb I really enjoy the cleaning, especially the dishes; simply satisfying. Cleanliness so drastically impacts the energy of a room, I need to remember that. The apartment feels so much more positive with trash contained, couches febreezed and shot glasses soaked.

While I’m washing the dishes I keep getting distracted by this random box of birthday candles. All I can think is cake; I love cake; I want to eat cake. But it’s cold and snowy outside, plus my wallet is stranded in Laruen’s car. The cake is a lie.

You should listen to this band if you never had. I heart Rich Kids on LSD.
Think, think positive.


a note in the wind December 10, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — knottythoughts @ 11:19 pm

I fell asleep in the middle of the day and woke up feeling low; like nothing mattered, like there was no purpose.
I wandered around the apartment desperate for any glimpse of motivation. Then I saw my keyboard and I remembered: there will always be music; music is the only thing that matters.

[skip to Thursday around 6pm]

I kick off my heels after a solid afternoon of work. Oh yes, that’s right: WORK. This morning while I was sitting in my living room among hung over friends applying for more jobs on my MacBook I could smell the piles of trash in our apartment. A DVD of DodgeBall was playing on the television and my cats and dog were bickering. My head was woosy from a mixture of alcohol and prescription medications. A decidedly strong sense of helplessness mocked me with every emailed resume. Then around 11am, a phone call from an unknown number. To my surprise the caller was the owner of a small formal dress shop to which I had sent a resume some weeks earlier; I had completely forgotten about it. He briefly apologized for having taken so long to get back to me and asked if it was a good time for a phone interview; I, of course, obliged. We hit it off and he requested that I come into the shop and meet in person. The wonderful Lauren was kind enough to assist me in the hasty coming together of a classy outfit (pencil skirt, black patent pumps, Fat Robot top, crop asymmetrical jacket) and a quick trip to the mall to pick up some less terrifying gauges; I went for a set of swirling black and white 5/8 plugs.

Long story short: the world fell into place, I was hired on the spot. I have nothing but pure enthusiasm and excitement for my new job and my lately dipped hope in the world has been renewed to it’s former glory.

After training for a few fun hours of dresses and glittery conversation, I braved the cold completely unprepared. My fresh lack of hair kept my ears desperately pained. Being completely unfamiliar with the bus route in this area was certainly a downside. I stood on the side of the road at a bus stop for some 45 minutes in a small jacket and skirt in the darkness with no hat before the adrenaline of the day’s excitement wore off and the cold set in. Giving up on the bus I began walking my frozen feet in three inch heels to the nearest gas station (still grinning like an idiot).

I immediately purchased a large french vanilla machine mixed coffee and wrapped my poor gloveless hands around it.

The store attendants were jolly and I shared my happiness with them by telling them about my new job. I also told them about my failure and how I was frozen to the bone. They invited me to sit and warm myself at a table. I obliged without resistance and the male attendant opened a package of hot hands without request of payment, smiled and placed them in my red numb fingers. My digits eagerly accepted; I’ve never felt such perfect warmth. While I waited for my friends James and Audrey to come kindly fetch me, the attendants and I tried to think of each of the gifts presented on the 12 days of Christmas. We didn’t get very far, but it kept my mind off my deeply chilled bones.

When James, Audrey and other guy (sorry, I didn’t get your name, sir!) picked me up I was happy with the enthusiasm they shared in my good news of employment. These two have always been amazingly supportive with me, I barely know them, but love them dearly. I accompanied them to a local head shop in the search for a new water pipe and was delighted with the one they purchased. I’m looking forward to partaking in it’s deliciousness.

Tomorrow the band plays our first show with Bricker on guitar.
We have a ridiculously short set. It’s going to be fun.

Dear world,
I fucking adore you.

‘Sean is the king of the jungle; Fuck Simba’

We made dinner tonight. That’s backwards.
First there was an hour long expedition to the Hastings down the road that’s on it’s final legs of life. The shelves were cleared out and we found little of value.

Still, we managed to waste a lot of time wandering about the chaos. The three of us may very well be easily entertained; maybe we were just avoiding the incredibly uninviting cold that awaited outside.
Today felt like a million days combined into one.

After leaving Hastings and determining that our three little stomachs were empty we made the mistake of traveling to Safeway in search of food. A mistake, I say, because the excess of options left us weaving the aisles without aim for what could have very well been over an hour. I ended up with a loaf of bread, a Kit Kat, guacamole, two bottles of sparkling flavored water and corn chips. Now, my tummy is full.

Bread wars and giant pickles.