Untitled 04

I am feeling like a veteran,
Uncompensated for the blood I've left to pool on foreign grounds.
And I sometimes reach to rub at aching legs,
but they've been dust for over a decade,
And you're the limb I've lost but somehow I still feel it...

Until I awake, we just hope that you made it.
We hope that you're celebrating, with people you miss.
And burning like a beacon, guiding our ship around this hellish shoal.
I'm happy to admit that maybe I am a little depressed,
'cause I'm missing you to death.

And now, it's only records of my memory.
Some little thing you gave posthumously.
The details all dragged out.
To think, of all the paitings we would be without,
If Van Gogh had gone and died face down from loss of blood the night,
He went and hacked his ear off...

Old People

They pretty much suck. They are annoying and forgetful and smell like moth balls. I wonder how that stereotype started. Bottom line, I don't like the elderly.

Worst. Day. Ever.

So today was great, for about 45 minutes. The sun was out, the air was fresh... who am i kidding?!? Today, for whatever reason, got really shitty, really fast. I just felt so hostile towards everyone that would talk to me. I had an urge to punch people in the face. Seriously.

You know in movies when we get to see what people really wanna do to people, then we realize it was a fantasy sequence or something?? like in True Lies when Arnold destroys Bill Paxton's face with his massive forehead!

So yeah, i constantly had to restrain myself from drop kicking people. It was tough but I got through the day. I'm normally not like that.

So.... Slipstream, the Anthony Hopkins brainchild.... if it were an actual child, it'd be slow, i'm sure of it.... great concept, but a total mindfuck. Gotta hand it to the bloke, he's what?? 75?

República Dominicana

she's made contact....

fleeting feelings have been re-established,

order is momentarily restored.


If there is anything I should do, it is smile.

I am smiling.

No Habs No!

Damn Bob Gainey for his foolishness. I can only blame him because i can only assume that he intended on freeing up salary space so he could sign Hossa. He got beat out when the Pens over-valued Hossa. Why did Gainey trade Huet (for a 2009 2nd round draft pick might I add!) midday when there wasn't 100% certainty of signing Hossa?

Looks like the pressure of the Montreal media and fans rests on the shoulders of 19-year old Price... good luck kid.

Lost Associates

So I was on the bus heading home after a long day at work and I see this middle-aged, balding Asian man sitting down. I glance over and didn't think much, but I got closer and realized it was a guy that used to work with me! He's such a nice guy and I hadn't seen him in a while so i subtly tried getting his attention... He wanted none of it. Its a shame really, I was feeling a little down and he definitely would have changed my mood for the better. He's such a chipper guy and reminds me of an anime character (not because he's Asian, just because he's always bouncing off the walls).

It was cool to see his neurotic tendencies too-- he'd constantly check his watch. He wasn't late, he was never late before.... Christ, i remember getting to work for a 6am shift and he'd be waiting there for 20 minutes. A great guy, seriously.

gabba gabba hey!

i feel good, really good.... everything has fallen into place, some things have fallen more awkwardly... but they work. there's a lot to be said about belief. i can't quite explain it now but I'll be able to one day. before i kick....

many people live their lives fearing that their dreams will be haunted, well, what about their reality? my reality has been haunted since i was six... that's a weird thing to say but i believe it.

i once wrote my name on the wall at a sneaker shop. i was asked to by the owner. he told me that every time i come back I'd be able to visit it. i set out to visit this moment in history early last week... they closed down.
do you think the owner took the jiprock down and transplanted the wall? maybe he painted over it. maybe the new haute-couture underwear store has skeletons in there closets (or fitting rooms) and blood on their walls. by blood i mean the thousands of signatures printed on the owner's wall. failed relationships, tired bodies, users, addicts, and lovers... all on common wall.

I've met my maker, I've been seduced by the harlot, and now I'm slowly finding out who my dark passenger is. his arrival is eminent.

smile, you've won.