well, that was unexpected

All of the interesting stuff in Toronto seems to happen in an Italian neighbourhood retrofitted as the new club land du jour. At 4am.

It was supposed to be a quiet night in - no concrete plans to speak of. Hoped to head to bed early-ish, do a bit of work in the Wasteland. But I'm here. Isn't it fun when a gaggle of people you've never met in your life...following a pied piper, show up at your house un-announced? I know I can handle my own, but I also know when I'm outnumbered. I suppose my face showed the right amount of chagrin for them to realize they should not invite themselves inside. Don't get me wrong, I'm not upset. It was just weird.

I'm somewhat easily put out of my comfort zone - it's easier to keep people at a remove. Like Jenn says on the IT Crowd: "I can't let you into my apartment, that's my special place!" Only worthy people may enter. It gets better though. The parties decide to branch off, go get pizza and come back. In the hubbub of all that it's decided that half will go to a house party and I take on the responsibility of walking a friend to a part of the neighbourhood where someone is waiting for him. I'm on my street now, so close to home and a man is motioning at me from a car - I take my headphones off. (Can't he see that I'm deeply contemplative of the material at hand?!) He asks me if I know where there's an after hours pub. I tell him I don't, he tries to engage me otherwise, I give limited answers and make off like I need to leave. He doesn't get it and I'm getting somewhat annoyed now but try to stay polite. He parks the car and gets out - accuses me of being a lesbian (because I have short hair?) and then says I don't want to give him my phone number because he's black.

I tell him trying to guilt me isn't going to work, he can't play that card. I leave.

What the hell?

SERIOUSLY? Where did you learn this approach, person I have never met in my entire life who's trying to pick me up on a side street at 4 in the morning? Do you really think I'm going to tell you anything?

Bewildering.

Sleep.

the literary version of a grunt

So hard

Why

Does this have to be so hard?

To have had

So much

To lose

To be given something that’ so easily

Taken away

The visceral draw

The perennial kiss

Or so you think

Until one decides

It’s not enough

They don’t want to try anymore

You’re not enough

It’s too hard

It hurts

It’s easier to leave

But not really

When they leave

You dissipate, even though it was your idea.

So you give up, because it‘s too hard. It’s too hard to try to find the yang to your ying.

Because your ying was never there

Not like the novels that tell you, that perfect one

The one who sees into your soul

And doesn’t mind that it’s a dragging on progressive psychedelic song

One that drags on forever – with twists and turns, complications, conflicts, fallacies

Hypocrites

They lie, they just want your passion, without matching it

Without ever thinking that perhaps this is the hardest thing you’ve ever done

Because you know the world, know its internal logic

Know that everything will work out

Except for this

And then you think

Perhaps I’m not destined for this, despite the fact that you don’t believe in destiny

Destiny is bullshit.

All that matters is the math, the equation that tells you – death is inevitable

Is it worth it? To search for that one? The one who is on the frequency you occupy?

Does this exist?

For some lucky ones.

Not you, though. Not you.

So you go to bed, and think about the only figments that haven’t disappointed.

They’re so far off, and it’s more comfortable that way.

Because if they fail….what will you do?

Haven’t gotten that far yet.

And then you think of the one who told you that the reason you want to be fluid is because you feel you can't have limits.

That happens to those without family. Without home.

How different it could all be, with such a small cartel of variables. The math – if only it would add up to your favour. But it never does…does it? Something always stands in the way. Then you wonder – is it yourself that stands in your own way?

What now?

You take it like a man, on the chin. No reaction. Pretend it’s fine. Find your armor.

Sow the screaming eagle patch onto your jacket. Steel yourself. Fasten your bindings, fix your helmet, fortify your scabs and scars. Think about the release. Race down the mountain.

Update your software. Upgrade the hardware. Fix your stock. Keep going. Don't look back ,just...keep going. Like clockwork.

It can be a lonely existence, being human. Laugh, cynically.

list of crap I want

for my birthday! I know it seems selfish, but whatever,

people generally suck at getting me stuff I like, so ...here's a list:

1) Omar Rodriguez Lopez (I'm kidding, although I'd love to meet him)

2) http://outlier.cc/main/womens-daily-riding-pant.php The nicest cycling pants I've seen for a girl

3) The Byson Gilet: http://www.allsaints.com/product/?all=1&page=1&category_id=118&&prod_desc_id=5051214488783&position=10

4) The Typographic Desk Reference: http://typedeskref.com/

5) some sort of LEGO

6)The Complete Calvin and Hobbes

The thing is, I don't really need anything....except for a billion dollars ;)

this is not -blank- -blank- dot com

Anybody who knows something about me and something about the writers I'm into will know exactly what the title of this post is referencing. Somehow part of me is trying to avoid writing an essay that's due tomorrow (it's mostly been composed in my head, but it just seems like nothing new can be said about this book and I've read it before and the exercise feels like cheating if you've read the book and in some way it feels like I've completely misunderstood it). Anyhow that's a digression from this digression.

Fuck you, I'm Batman. Anyway.

Back to what I was talking about originally. A fraction of a moment ago I had a witty reparte with someone on twitter, and it made me kind of really really sad. Because it reminded me of the crass British man whom I haven't spoken with since....well...a long time. We had a moment or two and it was really fun keeping up the correspondence, but I think there was an expectation or two on his part that I didn't live up to and thusly have been either discarded or relegated to some sort of heap of rejects. And it kind of breaks my heart - in several ways, because he's just darned cool, and funny, and charming, and incredibly sweet, not to mention a fucking GENIUS. I kind of love him in a fucked up way - in that idealistic "we've never really met and so we can say stupid things to each other and it'll always be perfect because of that" way. Except then we did. And it was amazing! It was everything I wanted it to be and more. I suffered horrible withdrawal afterward. He was so....fucking.....awesome. And not just because of the obvious things about him - I felt we had lots to talk about. It didn't feel awkward - it was easy and fun. I desperately wished he lived here, or closer to here, so we could be friends in that regular friendly way.

I don't know exactly what he thought was going to happen, but I worried that he thought it was going to be something else. I was somewhat contagiously sick, so even if somehow I had neglected my sense of morality and ethics, nothing could have happened. So I wonder if that was what he wanted - or if he had no expectations of me. Especially when I think about how exactly our "relationship" started.

All I know is that for a brief, spectacular moment, he lit up my life in an amazing way. Because he was someone that I felt I could really get along with so well, which I haven't felt in some ways since, well..you know...that thing I keep talking about and the reason this blog came to be in the first place. (duh, N)

So I continue to abide, and every now and then, I deeply miss the crass British man. He stole a piece of my heart.

think...laterally

Just a short one today - and this is why:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dm2glu3WLGk&feature=player_embedded

This song has always been something that I've considered a turning point in terms of my appreciation of music. It has a life of its own. If it were to be translated into a painting it would be incredibly rich- with many shades and layers of complexity. Some people consider it noise - because they don't take the time to actually listen to and appreciate all of the seemingly loose threads that weave together and eventually come to culminate in something that is beyond my scope of description. And that's just on the sonic level. When examined under the hood - the music actually follows a mathematical sequence - the fibonacci. This is not news but perhaps it makes sense that in some way it would be more pleasing to the ear, just like the fibonacci sequence is found in objects in nature - such as "branching in trees, arrangement of leaves on a stem, the fruitlets of a pineapple, the flowering of artichoke, an uncurling fern and the arrangement of a pine cone." (wiki)

I think I'm trying to draw some sort of parallel between the two...is that clear?

Anyhow - this version of Lateralus makes it easier to discern all of the different melodies coming together at least slightly more easily than the original.

Which you can find here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDlC7oG_2W4

how far you've removed yourself from the human condition

I got a new book today. I already own a version of it - but this one was nicer. I didn't know that I would love it so much the first time around so I bought a cheap copy - and since we're reading it again for another class I wanted one that I was in love with visually as well. It's got the giant whale eye on the back cover - gorgeously illustrated.

The thing is, it didn't make me feel better about my day at all. Usually books do that, especially pretty ones. And then I realized that ever since around February my levels of contentment have been in steady decline. I don't know why. Perhaps it's all the drug switcheroo, maybe it's levels of stress getting out of hand - not knowing how to handle everything. Compartmentalization is key, but it's also hard. Have I said that before? I feel like I'm losing my perspicacity - and it might be the drugs I'm on right now.

I've noticed that my vision has been getting worse - and I've been slurring my words a little bit more. I'm worried that if it's not the drugs, it's me getting stupider. Getting older is starting to scare me.

I wake up at night having panic attacks about death. This has been happening since I was around twelve years old - but it's more frequent now.

Perhaps the bupropion is working by waking me up - but that's all it's doing, it's not helping me process information from an outsider's standpoint. So I'm left where I began - being too inside of myself to view things objectively. It's frustrating.

I've also felt homeless for a long time now. For the longest time my home was where Niall was. He was the family I chose (however unwisely) and there was comfort in that. After our end I spent time with Karen and then finally went back to my mother's house. But it didn't feel right, it felt transitory, I never fully unpacked. Then I moved in to my current apartment - but now I'm moving out because of an uncomfortable situation. I've moved so many times - it's really wearing me down. After this move I don't want to move for at least the next three years.

At the same time I feel like I'm waging a one man war against a fully stocked opposition. I've never faced a challenge in ideology like this before and I don't know if I have the strength to fight it at every step. I have the conviction but my drive is falling away. Compromise is one thing, but seeing a future where people wear you down is .....well it's defeatist in a sense, and it's me getting ahead of myself. But I honestly can't see any other way it would go down. I've never been a minority before. I've never had to contend with a large family. I miss the intimacy of conversation with Ron and Ada. Hell, I just miss them. I miss interesting political conversations over dinner - I miss being liked for my qualities, qualities they actually took the time to find out about. I've never had an exceptionally large family and after moving here it got even smaller. Technically I have a mother and a half brother. My stepfather never adopted me.

So I've learned to cope - I have friends who I consider family. My unwillingness to spend time around people who I haven't specifically chosen for that purpose is incredibly low to nonexistent. It's a learned behaviour. Why would I want to spend time around people who don't really know anything about me? Oh they know superficial surface stuff - where I go to school and what I study, but past that they don't seem interested. And that's fair - people have shit going on in their lives. At the same time - it was easier to imagine a future with people who cared about my opinion. And yes, again it's me getting ahead of myself - and that might seem stupid. But it's not out of any sort of romantic sensibility - it's practicality, perhaps it's my Darwinian imperative - my brain just does the math, automatically. I can't help it.

Which brings me to the conversation I've had with several people over the past two days - about how my theory is that money can basically solve for anything.

I haven't actually done the math yet on this one - it would need actual figures, but...it could work. A perfect scenario. Love is a relatively new concept in terms of people pairing off. It causes probably as many headaches as it does happiness. So what I proposed to my friend Walter is a situation (we had around six separate conversations that night). If one were to possess x amount of money they could do whatever they wanted. Provided that they weren't a complete asshole they would have close friends with whom they could spend time - this could be the backbone of their community. Obviously there would be family in the best case scenario, mother/father/sibling. So there would be conventional relationships to a certain point, but instead of seeking out a long term partner based on the concept of "love", if one had x amount of money, one could buy someone's time in order to fulfill their sexual desires. It wouldn't necessarily be a problem because money can buy you basically anything you want - it would just take a certain amount of time to find the right person. Once you frequented this person it could become a thing - in terms of physical needs. And it would have the potential to actually be better than a physical relationship based on the concept of "love". Why? Because. There would be an exchange of goods for money, and this is conducive to a person communicating more clearly exactly what they want.

Which I guess brings people to the decision over whether or not they consider prostitution to be morally wrong etc., but personally I don't really care. (I mean I care about the fact that there are studies that show that women who have been abused are more likely to become prostitutes, but that's a whole different conversation) If people want to have sex and don't have a partner, they can see a sex worker. Dan Savage would agree with me, he's kind of the king of that stuff.

Anyway, that being said, it takes the pressure off. Unconditional love is probably the best kind, and you're very hard pressed to find something like that from a romantic partner. I mean it might happen despite the fact that you're not conforming to society's standards etc., but you can be content even if it doesn't. And you can have kids if you want - adoption, or if you're a woman, insemination.....so it's all upsides.

Of course this is all hypothetical and mostly a thought experiment thing, don't go and start thinking that I'm a jaded and cynical near-25 year old who knows nothing about the world, because that's patronizing.

Kind of like the time I told my cousin Tom that I was an atheist and he was like "oh you'll get over that as you age"....yeah...thanks.

the irony of hate, join me

When I get mad, this is what I go through in my head to feel better:

Cravely : Okay I know it was difficult for you to come here hat in hand (pause) it's not the kind of (pause) upbringing --I guess is the word I'm looking for, it's not the kind of man you are. I understand that, I'm not looking to humiliate you, not looking to exact a price in any way so why don't you just apologize, we'll call it uh water under the uh damn and go about our business.
Gust : Excuse me what the FUCK!
Cravely: What?
Gust: What the fuck are you talking about?
Cravely: Claire George said you were coming in here to apologize.
Gust: I'm supposed to come in here so you could apologize.
Cravely: According to whom?
Gust: Claire George.
Cravely: You told me to go fuck myself, I'm supposed to apologize to you?!
Gust: Also water goes over a dam and under a bridge you poncey schoolboy.
Cravely: Clearly there's been a miscommunication between Claire George and somebody.
(maintenance man fixing the window pokes his head in)
Maintenance Man: Excuse me, does this look alright? (points at glass window seperating Cravely's office from the rest of the floor)
Cravely: Yah.
Maintenanace man: I could sand it down a little?
Gust: I've got no fuckin' idea who this guy is.
Cravely: HE is HERE to fix the glass you broke the last time you were here. (to Mainenance man) Could you just excuse us for a second? (shuts door)
You tell me to go fuck myself and I'm supposed to apologize? You break my window, *I'm* supposed to apologize?
Gust: The Helsinki job was mine!
Cravely: The Helsinki job was NOT yours if it WAS yours you'd be in Helsinki.
Gust: Alan Wolfe stood in this office....
Cravely: Alan Wolfe is no longer
Gust: It was ON THE BOOKS
Cravely: Alan Wolfe is no longer the director of European Operations he does not make those appointments, I do.
Gust: Promises were MADE.
Cravely: Not by me.
Gust: I've been with the company for TWENTY FOUR years, I was posted in Greece for FIFTEEN - Papa Andreiou WINS that election if I don't have the JUNTA take him prisoner. I've advised and armed the Hellenic army! I've NEUTRALIZED CHAMPIONS OF COMMUNISM. I'VE SPENT THE PAST THREE YEARS LEARNING FINNISH! WHICH WILL COME IN HANDY HERE IN *VIRGINIA* AND I'M NEVER EVER SICK AT SEA. SO I WANNA KNOW WHY I'M NOT GONNA BE YOUR HELSINKI STATION CHIEF!
Cravely: You're coarse.
Gust: Excuse ME?
Cravely: For Helsinki I need someone with diplomatic skills...you don't have them.
Gust: Is that right?
Cravely: That is right and I don't know why the hell I didn't fire you when YOU BROKE MY FUCKING WINDOW.
Gust: Oh yes sure you do, Cravely...
Cravely: Look Gust....
Gust: Yeah you're fuckin' Roger's fiance and you know I know....
Cravely: I'm not...I'm not....I'm not even gonna dignify that with a response.
Gust: Yeah yeah, you're dignifying her in the ass at the Jefferson Hotel room 1210....but let me ask you...the 3000 agents Turner fired was that because they lacked diplomatic skills as well?
Cravely: You're referring to Admiral Stansfield Turner?
Gust: Yeah the 3000 agents each and every one of them first or second generation Americans, is that because they lacked the proper diplomatic skills or did Turner not think it was a good idea to have spies who could speak the same language as the people they're fucking spyin' on?
Cravely : Well I'm sorry but you can hardly blame the director for QUESTIONING THE LOYALTY to America of people who are just barely Americans in the first place.
Gust: Yeah. Well I'd like to take a moment to review the several ways in which you're a douchebag.
Cravely: GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY OFFICE.
Gust: Yes Sir (salutes)
Cravely: Before I end your career asshole.
Gust: Yes Sir (mockingly)
(Gust opens the door to leave and bumps into Maintenance Man)
Gust: Yeah my friend I'm gonna need you for a second (grabs hammer from Maintenance Man and smashes the newly repaired window in Cravely's office)
Cravely: GOD DAMNIT!
Gust: My loyalty! For twenty four years people have been trying to kill me! People who know how. Now do you think that’s because my dad was a Greek soda pop maker? Or do you think that's because I'm an American spy?Go fuck yourself, you fucking child! (Exuent)

So, Gust Avratakos was a real guy. His dad was a soda pop maker. I've always wanted to be able to go on a large tirade against someone who was pissing me off, this lets me experience that vicariously. And Philip Seymour Hoffman is a motherfucking genius.