Let’s get baked! January 17, 2012

In my home, animals outnumber humans.  Since my last post, the habitat has changed and the creatures have increased.
A shoulder cat named Darbi joined us over a year ago and a trash dog named Emma was introduced at the peak of summer.
We are surrounded!  At the very least we can all pile together for warmth.

Any moments that place me within an arms length of all the furry creatures at once are especially noteworthy.

More than one year ago my brain was vacuumed sealed.  Recently it’s been thawed, re-introduced to fresh air and permitted to stew in it’s own juices.  I am again seeing through the muck of every day work and routine, but this time without completely halting any productivity and still chugging toward the vaguest of goals.  I must say, I did miss the keeping of odd hours.  Consistent sleep always seems to distract me from the most succulent thoughts and activities.  There is no need to fret, my restlessness has returned!  One very large step in the right direction began two or so weeks ago with the half drunken promise between myself and a very good friend; typically grand plans with branches of possibility shooting dangerously in every direction.  The thing that made it different was the follow-through.  That is to say, we actually followed through.  An absolutely rare (if not nearly extinct!) occurrence in my shared life with others.  If we did even a tenth of the things we discussed…

We joined forces with this basic objective: Bake our faces off!
With our adventure off to a not-so-surprising late start, the first leg of our plan began: the gathering of supplies.

It is difficult for me to shop with other people, whether I’m at the grocery store, fabric and crafts, thrift store or anywhere!  This is because I get excited.  Very fucking excited.  Things and colors and ideas swirl about my head in a joyful delusion any time I am exposed to many items at once.  Match this overwhelming amusement with my scatter-brained judgement and you get a lot of strange grunting sounds, clapping, gasping and jumping up and down.  A lot of cursing too.  Plus I have to touch everything, I’m like a four-year-old (a four-year-old muttering FUCK out of excitement and subsequently spending all my tip money).

However, on this day my shopping partner was Laura.  With her I don’t feel rushed and my general sense of being overwhelmed is accented with her equally childlike amazement and delight at being surrounded by so many options.  This being said, we are still a spectacle of oddity.  One giant and one half-ling skipping about wildly, communicating perfectly with a series of high pitched sounds and clicks.  I wont venture too far into the details, just know that our three stops were a perfect mess.  The bulk foods section made an especially strong impression on me.  For the first time in the my life, under the valuable guidance of Laura’s experience and knowledge, I would have a kitchen filled with all the basic baking supplies needed to fuel many a late-night, green-induced foray into a new recipe.  I’d say we got more than enough to start us off.

The rest of the event was a whirlwind of creation!  We set out to make several specific items.  A 7-up cake (with green butter), Nanaimo Bars (a Canadian favourite), Madeleine cookies/cupcakes, Sourdough bread (in the bread maker) and apple bread.  The kitchen ended up completely trashed and all the counters covered in more treats than we knew what to do with.

The Nanaimos are a sweet I’m very fond of.  A tasty no bake, triple layered bar that just requires a little patience.  This was my first attempt at making them.  If I remember correctly, while growing up in southern British Columbia my mother made them with mint in the top layer of chocolate.  This is either true, or just something I want to be true because minty-chocolate goodies are magnificent!  Unfortunately on this day I had no mint in my kitchen so I attempted to capture it’s sense by dying the middle cream layer of the nanaimos green and by also crushing up two candy canes I found and incorporating them into the top chocolate layer.  I don’t think the canes were enough to really add flavor, but they sure looked excellent!

The night spun by in a sort of lovely exhaustion.
Creation is something that I feel should be respected deeply by all.  Whether it’s art, music, food, words (or socks woven from cat hair) it’s simply incredible!  Of course, the individual attached the hands of creation should be especially grateful.

[green butter]

And remember kids: always buy bulk!

telepathic conversations on the bus July 1, 2010

Our trip to San Francisco was coincidentally during Pride 2010! Over the ten days we spent in the bay area, I had quite the range of experiences, mostly too exhausting to write about in any detail right now. Zoo, Alcatraz, random joints, aquarium, fun sex, open container citation, bums, DANCING, bartering, record stores, clubs, girlsgirlsgirls, boysboysboys, Diggnation, free alcohol, DRIVING, ice machines, missing my beautiful animals and my beautiful keyboard. If nothing else the trip served to remind me of who I am and whom I’d rather be. Pure inspiration, even the shitty parts.

I am still broke but yoga and meditation are free.

Now I realize that I’ve been doing it all wrong, this battle with my brain. It’s not about rewarding myself when I resist something I want to resist, especially when the the reward is another negative thing to my body. The reward is in the resistance itself.

I started a bit of a body detox today. Nearly two weeks of drinking and eating junk non stop while on vacation in San Francisco has taken it’s toll. I’ll still be drinking, likely, but I’m pairing my unabashed alcoholism will all other things healthy. I haven’t smoked more than five cigarettes in the last five weeks, though I did go through a few cheap cigars and the green smoke will never stop entering my lungs. Today
I have begun consuming large quantities of green tea with fresh blueberries and lemons smashed into it. This week I will only be eating things that are real food, nothing processed and very few carbs. Carrots, cucumbers, mushrooms, bananas, pineapple, lemons, strawberries, blueberries, beans and such. Doubtless, this attention to my body and mind will pay off.

Monday night was nice, back in the comfortable world of drunken friends. Tuesday night was even more lovely at Laura’s eviction party: drink, snort, dance, sing, talk, BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY, police, sprinklers, jumping balconies, hiding in closets and under beds, huge pupils. Ah, how ordinary in our lives but still so refreshing! We must create, oh you beautiful humans, this is our world.

Today is the day.
The beginning.
I have a lot of work to do, to become this person that I’ve been harboring within myself for years now. I will become what I want, I will change my name, I will adventure and love and live. My motivation has never been more grounded, my determination has never been more powerful. In a way, I am bringing each one of you with me.

my sunken treasure April 21, 2010

[Tuesday April 20]
Laundry day brings clean clothes and reunions with guitar picks thought to be lost. Bus rides are welcome, giving me a solid time to catch up on comic books and soak in the energy of those with whom I share the earth. Each time someone asked me the date while writing a check or signing something at work I just smile and tell them it’s the twentieth of April, underground holidays are the best.

After a surprisingly busy day at work I spent the afternoon with my lovely Amy. I like her brain because it swirls around with mine each time we’re within eye shot and everything else melts away and we are kings of the universe! We break into tears at the sight of a dead creature and emit high pitched sounds at the sight of a live one. Even small little things like mister caterpillar, getting knocked over by the wind on the side walk.

We play in the garden (fuck being grown-ups!) and I show her the big fat cut I earned just hours earlier with a pair of scissors while trying to break down boxes. She just laughs and makes fun of me for my lack of finesse with a blade, it makes me wanna kick her ass! I threaten her and she’s so much smaller than me, but her eyes keep steady and she smiles. We’ll battle soon.

At some point in the quest for food and cigarettes Amy opens the trunk and starts making an excited high pitched sound. I know there’s not a cute little animal in there so my curiosity peaks. She comes to the window: ‘I still have half a half gallon of vodka in my trunk!!’
Just imagine my eyes getting real wide and my smile doubling: ‘FUCK yes! This day just got even sweeter!’ We light up and head to my place, tonight is gonna be good.

A holiday best spent with friends, we walk into the apartment quickly filled with excellent conversationalists and music in every room. Shot of vodka, shot of vodka, guitar, keyboard, singing. We should be writing songs for Dee Dee Bat, be we cannot focus. Amy wants to fight and I’m completely willing, but she’s so little! In the back of my head I’m afraid I’ll hurt her and then I feel guilty because we both know that’s the whole point and we both know all I need is a little more liquid encouragement. I owe her a couple hits in the ribs. She’s been working and going to school like crazy so it’s awesome that she decides to spend a chunk of her day off with me, and we’ll be making a trip to Seattle in May. I love this girl!

Earlier in the day a revolution brews in my brain. My notebook has been assaulted by mental gunfire as is evident by the ill prepared ink and sentence fragments wrecking the pages. I had to get all the thoughts down. A zine (an idea revisited thanks to a friend who recently put one together herself) based around finding our independence from governments and corporations in small ways with bartering and increased personal skill sets. It will be in print soon, I can feel the content bubbling up. I’m going to hand the first copies out at our vegan/vegetarian dinner on May 16th. Let me know if you want to come! Bring wine/drinks or coordinate with us and bring a vegan/veggie appetizer, dinner or dessert dish!

The remainder of the night was a swirl of advances, puppies, music and SLEEP. I hadn’t done that one in a little while.

[Wednesday, April 21]
Waking up a little hung over and sore did nothing to kill my instant joy today. I have to work soon, but it’s okay because all my clothes are clean. I’m hungry but we got groceries last night! It’s even healthy stuff! The sun is taking a little break, it rained all night. Everything is damp and heavy and I just wanna roll around in the world. Tomorrow we trek to Spokane for good company, laser tag and a punk rock show!

My thoughts are abundant, but steady, and my soul is absolute. Let’s do this mother fuckers!

climb the water tower April 11, 2010

A lot of well formed habits make up my day to day routine.
There are fifteen stone stairs followed by twenty-one full steps to get to the front door of my apartment with a four-stair/one-step set leading up to those. Volume settings must remain on any odd number at all times. When doing two loads of laundry I have to put the quarters in both machines simultaneously, same with pressing the setting buttons, then I always start with the machine on the right when unloading. My point is, there are certain objects associated with my obsessive routines that have become almost important as the acts themselves. My ipod is the number one item I have on my person at any times of any travel beyond my home where there is the threat of not having quality music to listen to for any period of time. I walk a lot, skate a little, adventure at night and a soundtrack seems absolutely necessary for each endeavor.


There is also a pair of gloves (fingerless, black & gray and extending to the elbow!) my aunt gave me for Christmas that I have found myself strangely infatuated with. They are always on my hands, even after I take off my survival jackets. I fucking wear them to shows, play beer pong in them, sew in them, play piano in them.

I ordinarily wear them while typing, but I am not wearing them now.
I do not know where they are. SIGH. I lost them at some point last night, I am hoping heavily they’re in my buddy Paolini’s car or at the restaurant or just hiding in the depths of my room. In any case, I find myself feeling guilty in mourning their absence because, after all, they are only a silly object. Still, though, my arms are sad and hope their warmers return some how.

Of late, I have been consuming fairly decent meals in comparison to my usual lot of metabolic encouragement. Dinners have included a lot of blueberries, potatoes, rice and beer. Now that I put it in words, it doesn’t seem like a healthy diet, but it’s an actual improvement on last week’s dining. There are breakfasts of apples and bananas at times, plus extensive amounts of water.


While on the topic of habits…I find it extraordinary how they become, almost by definition, a muscle memory of an action as opposed to one intentionally sought to complete. Many of mine tend to go unnoticed by my conscious self so I’m always surprised when I open my birth control pills to find that the day’s pill has, indeed, been ingested and all is well.

Good job brain, keep it up!

Today is the second of of a three day workless weekend for this human. I slept in yesterday, a rare feat! It impeded my efficiency a little but I managed to accomplish quite a bit regardless. This morning, my mind will not allow additional slumber which just as well considering there is so much sewing and cleaning to be done! Then there is the song writing and dog bathing and hair cutting and drinking and smoking! So I thought it best to make an early start of it all. Though I do really enjoy the two jobs I have at the bridal shop and hosting karaoke in a couple Pasco bars.

Dresses by day, tequila/sound equipment/tips by night!

I am watching Bronson the dog twitch his little feet while he sleeps and Sean Connery is passed out cozy on the floor. I adore these little creatures and Sunday is family day! Which means walks for Bronson, cat nip and combing for Sean, a clean tank and filter for Norman (turtle). The fact that there are people who don’t have pets to enhance their lives baffles me!

In fact, while sitting on an idling bus at the transit center a few days back I was observing a young puppy and it’s owner. This probably three-month-old animal was the most jolly little bulk of fuzz, happily romping at the heel of his leash holder and responding merrily to any requests of stopping or sitting. I began to think of Bronson and how I wish I would have taken more steps to strengthen his training (and thus, our bond) when he was younger and more eager to please. I wonder if it feels the same way to be a human parent watching a new mother with her child; cure-less pangs of regret due to the most selfish and personal bits of one’s own, mostly unavoidable, characteristic nature. In any case, I know my relationship with my animals is strongly in tact, doubt just has a way of possessing the most effective forms of ego-bashing osmosis.

I call them my puppikittikins!

Part of my adventures yesterday involved a trip to the grocery store to get a bus pass and a few apples. While in line, the gay rude girl (LOC!) in me couldn’t help but stare at a woman I had seen several times already during my current trip in the store. I was staring because I loved the gray of her hair. It’s exactly what I wish my hair would be, colour-wise. I eventually mustered up the impoliteness to ask her if I could take a photo of her head before leaving the store, she agreed!

This image really doesn’t do it justice.

My knees have not been treated favourably in the past few weeks. They were consumed by massive, mosh pit induced bruises for several painful days, aching at the joints due to four inch heels and an extensive amount of walking. They are currently skinned and re-bruised following yesterday’s graceful public portrayal of myself eating shit on the busy sidewalk while skateboarding. The real victim of this little accident, however, was my pants! I wear these damn things everyday, they’re wonderful, perfectly broken in and serve my survival function to near exact desire. The denim has been violated by pavement now and it’s only a matter of time before they become unfit for wear in visible situations. I will have to start searching for the pair that will eventually replace these ones.

Until then, larga vida a los pantalones!

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.

will you be my beetle? December 7, 2009

I’ve always been fond of beetles. When I was a child living in Canada I remember riding home from a family day at the lake. My younger brother and I would have water beetles stowed away in little containers of water, vowing to care for them. The little guys would swim about, dive and swirl, sit delicate on the surface. We never did find out what they ate, though. I regret our failure to keep them living. [sad]

My desk is a mess.

Something big happened today. Upon waking I instantly felt the need for some variety of drastic change. Considering the few things I have control of, the task of drama fell to my hair. For two and a half years I have adored my dreadlocks. Warm, beautiful, original. As I thought of cutting them off, my heart beat faster and I understood that too much of my identity was wrapped in them. I like being the weird girl. The girl on the bus that people look at and wonder what sort of interesting things must be floating about my mind. I should be able to be her without looking the part. So I chopped them off.

It took several hours, metal combs and a lot of oil. I wanted to salvage as much length as possible so I would have some room to play with what’s left. NORMAL HAIR. I will be getting it cut tomorrow, professionally. I’m thinking very short. My ears are so cold, but I haven’t had a heavy headache all day and everything feels light and silly. The reactions of my roommates were minimal, barely existent. Good.

At this point in the day the roof of my mouth burned. It had been cut to hell by the dollar frozen pizza I had eaten for dinner. Eating canned pineapple rings for dessert probably wasn’t a good choice. The citrusy goodness stung at my open wounds. Totally worth it. I love canned fruits and vegetables. I’m not sure why that is, maybe it’s because I’m always so broke. More likely it’s because they’re are so convenient, stackable, easily controlled and the variety is stimulating.

A rather exciting prospect presented itself to me yesterday. It’s keeping me motivated and thriving. Something to work toward. Lauren and I will have a life of muffins, smoke and art. Fashion and like minds. This seems to be exactly what I need. The potential for symbiosis exhilarates me.

Today, I appreciate everything.
My morning, afternoon and evening have lacked fashion. I will remedy that now, I’ve got to get sewing. I sent out more resumes today. I think something good will come along soon. Maybe something cool, where I get to dress nice. I’d love to be an office assistant, or something along those lines. The new hair will help me get there. God damn, it’s cold. Bundle up!

If I had a doomsday machine… December 3, 2009

The things that happened last night somehow managed to skew my immediate perception of the world and I do not like it. In the same moments I realized I need to return to my double daily doses of yoga. A deep sigh here. A distraction there.

When I woke up this morning my roommates were watching Doctor Strangelove. It made me giggle internally because the last time I saw the film I was living in Spokane, it was a Sunday afternoon. My old guitarist and I were sitting on the front porch of my broken down apartment building practicing our punk set acoustic style because the rest of the band was out of town. A neighbour came walking across the street without any shoes and we felt sure he would be coming to tell us to keep it down. Instead he told us that he had a mini studio in his apartment and invited us over. Turns out he did music scores for IFC and upon walking in we saw a beautiful set up of iMacs and audio equipment. We played a few of our songs for him, he was encouraging and told us that back in the 70s he was really into the then new onset of this thing called punk rock. He couldn’t have been more right; when getting up to use the bathroom (having to to avoid several cats) I noticed a gold record on the wall. To my great surprise, it was for an album in 1978 by The Skulls. I immediately questioned his possession of it, and to the great delight we found that we had just smoked [out of a small bronzed Coca Cola bubbler] with a teeny tiny little piece of history. Then we watched Doctor Strangelove and walked back home in a haze induced by both drugs and awe. I had completely forgotten about this experience until now. Wow.

 

I’ll be the first to admit it: I am a crazy cat lady. The big orange one is Sean Connery.
There are two others; MacGruber and Isotope. At some point last night I awoke to find two cats silhouetted in the window. Isotope was licking Sean Connery’s face.

Yesterday the weather was beautifully deceptive. Sunny and bright and glowing from my window; when I stepped outside my face froze instantly. Bicycling in that temperature was wholly uncomfortable even with the layers I was wearing. The majority of my day was spent standing in lines. At the Department of Licensing, at the bank, at the cable company, at the court house. Lines are terrible for one main reason; everyone in a line is in a bad mood. Impatient, angry, annoyed- it’s pure negative vibes! A very draining way to exist on a Wednesday afternoon.

The light part of the day was ending and I quite randomly decided to do something uncharacteristic.

My stomach, for unknown reasons, is uneasy.
Today I feel human.