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[Tuesday November 9th ,2004|8:27am] |
Haven't written much as of late. Well that is in comparison to my almost frantic updating before. Last night was horribly heavenly. It was cold and my knees felt like broken glass...silly me wearing a dress and no stocking in -5 weather. Besides the searing cold and all of that the night was beyond perfection. There was a little trip to our restaurant Hasaka Joojum where to my delight the owner actually remembered us! then it was a long haul down to the delightful little Lula Lounge, where many a pleasure was had. Then as Mr. Richman lit up the stage with his dancing feet and twirling guitar I glowed as bright as my orange coat...After the show we spoke with the opener, an older man, maybe mid fifties with whom I fell in love with almost immediately. He was equal parts Lou Reed and Tom Waits and looked kind of like a Spanish Pirate...sigh...
Then back outside to brave the cold again.
On the way home I donned a touque and froze to death laughing.
This morning my face is cramped and sore from all the smiling
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[Monday October 18th ,2004|3:07pm] |
Oh wow, my new journal is much more fun...
go over there
HERE
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[Monday October 18th ,2004|8:21am] |
Yesterday was Mikayla Day. It was a triumphant flop..
that's a lie, it was actually amazing. We went to Can Zine and discovered this whole writhing underground sub-culture of neo-trendites, ex-rastas, performance artists, people who are great at knitting and of course the token indie comic geeks. It was wonderfully surreal as we walked through the run down Gladstone Hotel and how each room, with the cracked plaster and creaking floorboards was designed by a different artist. We then went the Hasaka Joojum, but it was closed so we settled for two free subs (using my sub club cards) and brainstormed our comic, so that we too could have a room or a table one day.
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[Thursday October 14th ,2004|8:41pm] |
hello, just thought I'd tell you that I've lost my fucking notebook.
And also I'm adopting a new mantra. I've also adopted the Japanese name Mika, means new moon and its a lot shorter than Mikayla.
It's no good pretending that any relationship has a future if your record collections disagree violently or if your favorite films wouldn't even speak to each other if they met at a party.
-- Nick Hornby, High Fidelity
One more thing, I've got this little experimental, full of images random quotes and half-baked songs.
Be Home Soon
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[Tuesday October 12th ,2004|1:08am] |
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I'm not dead....I promise.
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[Wednesday September 29th ,2004|4:23pm] |
So, here it begins...at the beginning. I am addressing you, whoever you may be. I do this with no plan or idea of where I am going or how I will ever get there using this mechanical pencil and maybe a pen from time to time.
I am filled with mirth and many other adjectives for happiness. Please let me start off by saying that the following has the potential to become something of a love story, only because I am living on, and of course that also means it is without end; as is the case with any good love story....
We sat over coffee today, well not really coffee, I had some chai, he had a mocha latte thing. Either way both drinks were warm and the place in which me sat most definitely served coffee, and many variations of it. There we discussed our strange dreaming habits, sign language, teaching, the emotions of those of Trinidadian descent, living arrangements, and many other portholes into our conservative neurosis. Hand gestures are much wider from the left side of the table, the one closest to the window, the one occupied by myself (of course). His are more intricate and well placed. We decided to abandon our well warmed seats in favor of new and exciting vistas. We each take the last of the few cold mouthfuls that are left of our respective drinks, toss the refuse, push open the glass doors and step outside.
As always we ended up in a store, it usually falls under 1 of a few categories.
A. music B.video C.comic
Todays shop of choice was a combination of A and B. A kind of music and DVD thrift store, full of washed up musical remnants, beached on the shores of 'trend' and 'one hit wonder'. It was actually astounding to see the number of artists who had gone the way of MC Hammer. We both flipped through row after row creating that familiar -clack- -clack- sound of plastic against plastic. We were in search of some hidden jewel amongst all the rubbish.
Then in true 'us' fashion we start to drive. Gradually the buildings melt away into breezy fields. After a long comfortable silence he turns to me abruptly and says 'why the heck isn't the top down?'. So, we unlatch the heavy metal and fabric top and it falls in a neat pile behind the head rests. exposing the pale blue of the sky. His foot folds down the gas petal and the little silver convertible splits the dirt road in two.
Strangely enough, the most beautiful thing I experienced that day was not the waving trees or the wooden houses. But my return to class, where I listened to a lecture about the writing and prose style of Virginia Wolf. During the presentation there was a short bit on her personal history including (of course), information on her untimely death. Its rather odd that her suicide struck me so...
She filled her pockets with rocks and walked into the sea.
It wasn't the act of suicide itself that was beautiful, I know first hand how horrible that can be. No, it was more the manner in which she acted it out. For I am sure that after the water filled her lungs she was calm and her eyes were wide and blue.
Epitome, was the word for what I was having. I did not start out this day loving Virginia Wolf. I had seen the Elizabeth Taylor film; and flipped through her works. She hold an entire shelf in the 'W' section. No, when I began Virginia Wolf was just the name of a talented, slightly insane, accomplished female writer. Not my mental savior, or the one who unhinged me the most in my already unhinged state, and left me swinging wild and naked.
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[Monday September 13th ,2004|8:44am] |
My little sister arrived yesterday.
My heart is still broken.
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[Friday September 10th ,2004|4:08am] |
One of my best friends killed himself.
I'm not going to be around for awhile I think.
Goodbye Christian.
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[Tuesday September 7th ,2004|11:32pm] |
Jeremy and I are putting together a comic of sorts. He's got the art end of things, and me the writing.
This'll be fun.
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[Tuesday September 7th ,2004|8:05am] |
Some of the recently taken photos. Including shenanigans on my boat and the Toronto Comic Convention complete with the freakiest freaks this side of Freakville.
( comics, boats and basements )
Shows that are being seen by me in the near future
The Killers
Franz Ferdinan
Cake (!!)
This all is top-of-a-roller-coaster-scary.
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[Monday September 6th ,2004|12:28am] |
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Today was amazing, we all just laughed and talked, and rolled over the waves.
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[Sunday September 5th ,2004|10:29am] |
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Wonderful weekend. Antique bookshops, driving in the country, stops to the variety store to get junk, falling asleep while people are still playing the guitar. Today Scott, Jer and I are spending the afternoon with my mum and pop on the boat, just crusin around the harbor front. Should be really nice...
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[Thursday September 2nd ,2004|9:56pm] |
So yet again my worst fears have been confirmed, all is well...Or as well as it can be. I am just a paranoid freak... I think.
oh and I've shorn my locks.
( Amelie on crack )
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[Thursday September 2nd ,2004|8:23am] |
The aria floated too close to the moon and was caught upon her boughs.
Saw the opera tonight, under the stars...It was beautiful.
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| Fifty Word Fictions. |
[Tuesday August 31st ,2004|2:35pm] |
A café, soft chairs, haze of smoke, and cheap drinks. Pushing himself backwards from where he sat, in his peripheral folks chatted away, buzzing tête-à-tête, touching hands. His fingers drew in the spilt sugar, his eyes floated off into the sangria coloured horizon, belief had run off with his wife.
'Lets go' she said. He couldn't go though she was to perfect in her imperfection, so far from the monochromatic order of his apartment. The mechanics were just wrong. She was a fleeting vision on the edge of his perception, chaotic, incandescent, only brushing against the tips of his fingers.
I'm here, ripped from the grey shell of my building. Spilled out on the concrete, pulled out by a crimson gypsy. She said she wanted to drive. 'No' was too strong to say again, her stained glass eyes may break. I couldn't be responsible for the death of Venus.
The top was down, the night balmy, packed with stars. 'Where do you want to go?' 'To the moon' I said. He turned onto a road I hadn't seen, it was unnatural in its length and deserted save for a sign that said Lighthouse Point 14k. 'That'll do' I said
I walked over the edge. He stood by the car looking anxious; holding himself like it was cold. The sea was crashing harder tonight, the lighthouse looked whiter, wraithlike. I couldn't quite see the bottom but it was there. One step into oblivion, I bet he'd try to catch me.
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[Monday August 30th ,2004|4:41pm] |
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Because I ( can )
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[Monday August 30th ,2004|3:12pm] |
I think I've always thought the word 'prolific' meant something else than the actually definition.
Up until about 3 years ago I also thought that approximate meant exactly, and 2 years before that I thought that taupe was actually a shade of purple.
Is is because all of those words SOUND like they should mean the definitions I give them?
Excerpts from my little black book.
Page 20
List of interesting words #11
Perfunctory
Peripheral
Desultory
Depthless
Methodical
Incongruent
Linear
Gregarious
Luminescent
Transcendental
Fulsome
Ambrosia
Shrapnel
Bedouin
Page 21
Enter a quite room, wood floor, a window facing the ocean, no possessions, save for a record player. Which is playing some scratchy music from the 30's. Maybe there is something soft to sit on. I see an old mattress on the floor, however I think I'd prefer a hammock, for my purposes though, either will do. So here I am sitting in my hammock, or whatever, notebook with tattered edges in hand. Scrawling huge words full of swirls and swoops, these are your letters, nonsensical ones. Written so that I can speak to you without having to open my mouth.
I see coffee cups, stained from use, once white. They are stacked in teetering towers just outside the door.
Page 24
List of things to own before I die
Acoustic Guitar -X
Plant
Clear Umbrella
Guest book
Bright Coloured Kitchen Appliance
A Futon
A Hammock
A Statue
A Huge DVD Collection
Original Art
Cello
Vintage Wheels (Malibu)
Page 27
-This version of Ave Maria keeps playing in my head. One I know I have never heard before.
-My hair is falling out
-My voice isn't what it used to be, but I still sing.
-I want to get clean and sleep forever
-time is the truest form of wisdom
-of course I dream in colour
-Where do you want to go tonight? To the Moon.
-Strange times when smiles come easy
- Its hard to look on the bright side of a black hole
-So are you going to be more fun next time we visit a grave yard?
-Sugar and TNT
Page 28
To do List
Write a screenplay
Get clean
Get dirty
Sing into bright lights
Regularly visit drive in movie theatres
Become Bettie Page
Get married
Have some waitress know my name at a Greasy Spoon type deal
Bartend
Take drawing courses
Take cello lessons
Work in a record shop or comic store
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[Sunday August 29th ,2004|6:48pm] |
Scene 1. The beginning
Girl wearing faded ripped jeans sitting on one leg at computer desk typing. She wears a t-shirt that says Girls like comics too! Written in pink script on a light blue background. She is tying furiously staring straight at the screen, hair wild and clearly unruly. Feet bare as always. Desk is covered with scraps of paper, cd cases, filled journal, 4 small painted canvas, 3 different portable phones, and a paint can full of pens. She stops typing suddenly and studies the room around her, clothes scattered about the floor, the twisted heap of comforter and sheets on her bed. She lets her head fall back and she listens to the song playing over her cd player (Hayden- Between us to hold). Something falls off the desk, snapping her head up. She groans and stumbles into bed, clamping her arms around the huge bundle on her bed and letting her head rest, falling into rainy day sleep.
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[Sunday August 29th ,2004|3:21pm] |
Okay..
Epiphany #11 Day 367
All right so I've come to the absurd and yet clear conclusion that I seem to be a bit of a pest, and a right asshole. Honestly, I understand that I have the tendency to 'screw people over'. It's all unintentional I can assure you, and probably the result oftentimes of my extreme paranoia and self-loathing. Ironically enough because of that it really worsens my situation and makes the 'screwing' harsher and more wounding.
I said it was a conclusion I came to myself, that is not really the case. More like, it was valuable second-hand information from a source almost as paranoid as myself.
Strange, strange times are these, when the sick can't tolerate the weak and the harsh and loose lipped bit off their own tongues.
I can only focus inwardly for the time being, things seem to be slowly disintegrating into a dull grey and my attitude is souring. I can only look on the bright side of a black hole for so long.
Fingers are twitching madly at this point, as I have just had the aforementioned epiphany. I will write it all out, like a script. All of the unnecessary emotions that I feel, all the plans and tactics I use, the games I play in my head, my unsubtle exaggerations and lies, all the things I say into thin air. They are all being recorded as a movie script, stage directions and everything. This is going to be precise, exact, boring. And all you motherfuckers are going to be in it.
Will it give me absolution? No, not even close, I doubt anything in the next little while will bring me the acceptance and forgiveness I crave, but this will make it easier to shut up. Which is my new plan of action, just to shut the hell up.
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