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Tue, May. 25th, 2004, 05:12 pm

these paint fumes are melting my brain. i have gone strange in the head, i always have a headache,i ramble incoherently and i sing/whisper song lyrics out loud while listening to my walkman in public. my observations on life and the world have been streamlined into two compact phrases: "people are weird" and "that's so fucked up." that is all i have to say. ever. and maybe that's enough. maybe that's all there is... my sense of humour has lost any semblance of cleverness or subtlety or irony. i think that caulking is the funniest thing in the world, cause if you aren't careful it sounds like "cocking" and you find yourself unwittingly saying things like "put a little caulk (read as cock) in the hole." hi-larious. i have also lost my grip on literacy and the will to live.

Fri, May. 21st, 2004, 06:52 pm
i found hell - the address is 118 arundel avenue

so. this job is sucking me dry. i have sold my soul and my summer to a cunty bitch from hell (or more accurately a cunty bitch from small town ontario, which might actually be the same thing...) for a discount rate of $5.00/hour.
everyday my "supervisor" comes and asks me and my new best friend gabe 2 questions: "why is this taking so long?" and "do you need anything?" i pretend not to hear the first question and i never answer it because the bottom line is it is not taking "so long" it is taking as long as it takes for 2 humans to paint a house, which is inevitably twice as long as the hours she estimated it would take thus twice as many hours as we actually get paid for. to the second question i answer (with a hearty dose of cut-eye and a hiss) "uh. we need a step ladder." and we do need a step ladder. i am short. gabe is a small, small man. everything is pretty much six inches out of our collective reach. she never brings a step ladder. because i am short and because i am resourceful i take initiative and stand on the recycling bin. however, i forget that not only am i short, i am also kinda fat. so today my leg went clean through the recycling bin while i was standing on it. i am in a lot of pain but i dont think my injury qualifies me for sweet sweet workers compensation (cause its not severe and it is ultimately the result of my own stupidity/obesity) fuck. i am bitter to no end and i think i will save the rest of what i have to say for my angry email to the dumb bitch.

Wed, May. 12th, 2004, 08:01 pm

i am working for approximately $4.75/hour.

Tue, May. 4th, 2004, 03:44 pm

ugh. in a fit of proactivity (inspired by receiving a visa bill that informed me that my card is maxed out and my payment is overdcue)i decided to email the girl who will be my boss this summer to tell her that i can start work "whenever she needs me." she promptly emailed me back and told me that i start tomorrow. work is good. they pay you money to do it. however, i am scared of starting a job. i havent worked with anyone but family for so long. working for my clinically depressed, chronically tardy uncle was good, he really understood me. he also lives around the corner so he always gave me a ride. working with my genius jock cousin who also happens to be incredibly untalkative was good. we painted in silence, a comfortable silence that has been perfeced through years and years of attending family gatherings at which we never speak to each other. my family understands my surly shyness and chronic misery. i have been sad and antisocial since i was a child. see it's not the working that i am scared of, its the daily grind of forced interraction with people. i am scared of having "coworkers." i hate people and people hate me.

Mon, May. 3rd, 2004, 01:25 am
the catholic church is nothing if not effective

alcohol dilutes the incapacitating feelings of shame long enough for me to behave shamelessly. perpetual drunkeness is simply not a workable option and thus there are a lot of sober hours in life. i need to find a way to suppress the insurgent elements of shame that rise up from deep within my soul during the days after the drunkeness. i need to find a way to hold onto the sweet shamelessness so i can be normal - or at the very least leave my room.

Fri, Apr. 30th, 2004, 06:16 pm

The following is a dramatic reenactment of the phone call that woke me up this morning:

Me: (cranky and craggy sounding) hello?

Caller: hi. Who is this?

(The number on the caller id has been calling for the last couple of days. Unknown calls excite Lisa because they conjure up false hopes in lonely Lisa’s little heart; Hopes that some heretofore undiscovered friend is calling to invite her out to so something fun. She picks up the phone mildly irritated but very intrigued. Caller is boy. Lisa’s heart jumps into her throat and she starts going through her rolodex of shame, trying to remember if she was ever stupid enough to give one of them her number)

Me: Huh? I didn’t call you. You called me. Who is this?

Caller: Who is this?

(This back and forth went on for way too long. Caller is surprisingly stubborn)

Me: (grudgingly) it’s Lisa

Caller: What a coincidence.

Me: uhhh. (Lisa has extreme difficulty understanding anything in the morning. Always. But this is some legitimately confusing shit. Brow is furrowed, cigarette is lit. Names she never wanted to remember are running through her head) Oh. Huh? What? Do you know me? Who is this? Seriously. I don’t understand. (Lisa is beginning to whine. She resents this tremendous strain on her mental faculties. They are not equipped to deal with guessing-games or mindfuck in the early morning)

Caller: Who do you think it is?

Me: Honestly I don’t know. Boys never call me. Do we know each other? You woke me up. I’m so confused. I’m so tired. What’s happening? I don’t understand….

Caller: (finally reveals his identity with an ill-conceived obviously bullshit disclaimer) it’s Herb. I was doing my taxes and I found this number…. I didn’t know whose it was…soo…

Me: (suppressing the urge to burst into an “as if”) So you randomly decided to call it?

Caller: Of course.

Me: Even though you didn’t know who it belonged to? Nevermind. (Sigh. Giggle. Lisa is secretly delighted that her drunken stalker has resurfaced and he is sober no less. She is a shameless attention and flattery whore and hasn’t spoken to anyone in a week. Desperate times…She suppresses the urge to question his obviously false story of the circumstances leading up to the phonecall. Lisa  launches into the best impersonation she can muster of enthusiasm, hoping she will charm the stalker into falling in love with her again or at least going out with her tonight…) What’s up?

Fri, Apr. 23rd, 2004, 06:51 pm

i never forgive anyone. i cling to the shit while i pretend to be "ok" with everything. but deep-down in my stubborn, rage-filled little soul i know very absolutely that there is nothing that anyone can do that will EVER produce any outcome that remotely resembles "ok." i will never be ok. we will never be ok. it will never be ok. ever. i know i wil never be able to look at them as people, as friends, again. i will only be able see them in terms of what they have done wrong; walking, talking mistakes and heartbreaks. i accept their apologies. i rekindle freindships. sometimes i prentend for hours, sometimes for months. but i know nothing will ever be the same. i go through the motions of relationships enacting some strange painful parody of something that used to be real until i cant fucking stand it anymore. and the outcome is always the same. i ultimately have a wildly inappropriate outburst in a semi-public place. like that time mystica insulted me in a particularly harsh way and i sat there for three hours carrying on conversation and acting normal while the rage and hurt ate me up. she didnt know what she had done to me and i didnt tell her. but three hours after the fact i slapped her really hard upside the head, burst into tears and ran away.

Tue, Apr. 13th, 2004, 04:42 pm
i am so fucked

i have resigned myself to the fact that i am never going to write my essay for my architecture class. i have resigned myself to the fact that this means i will inevitably get an F in said architecture class. i did some math and was pleased to discover that failing this class is not synonomous with sabotaging my future. my GPA will remain above the 3.0 which is required to go to mcgill.
however, ther is the small matter of this other essay that is obscenely overdue and feels throughly undoable. i have read the book twice and i have been sporadically typing my mangled and incoherent reflections on the validity of Henri Focillon's interpretation of Romanesque sculpture for a week. however, the essay as it stands is one really long sentence and the sentence reads like a thesaurus that has puked up its contents.

Mon, Apr. 12th, 2004, 06:21 pm
sick me out

so. i thought i was growing an extra tooth. there was this hard little pointy white mass protruding from my gums, right beside my very back molar. on one hand i was kind of disgusted with the fact that my body was spontaneously generating extra teeth but on the other hand this little dental aberration made me feel like a true original. it was a real conversation piece and might have landed me in the guiness book of records or confirmed my suspicion that i am a superior being or an alien thus explaining my complete failure to establish meaningful relationships with earthlings. or something. i was willing to love it, to buy a little miniature toothbrush and nurture it, to help it become the best little tooth it could be.
alas, it was not a tooth at all, nor was it a chunk of food as the dentist audaciously suggested. apparently it was a piece of bone. the dentist grabbed onto it with some tweezers and yanked with all his might. i screamed "OWWWW" to let him know that the little calcified mass was, in fact, an integral part of my mouth and not a foreign object lodged in the cavern that used to contain my teeth of wisdom. he yanked and yanked and i shrieked and shrieked and when he finally pulled it out it was a little "bone specule" that was about 1.5 cm long. ew. apparently this piece of bone was no longer attached to my jaw or the "lateral aspect" of my tooth and was just lingering in my gums, dying a slow and painful death. after he pulled it out he just tossed it in the garbage. i wanted to see it or be offered the opportnity to keep in a little jar.
sadly. having the bone specule wrenched from my gums was the best part of today. the gym was supposed to be an attempt to vent my general aggression by furiously elipticizing. however the gym, was full of assholes and one of them STOLE my machine and i tried to confront him but he pretended not to hear me. i need to become more assertive, like that psycho-fascist-hellbeast-redhead who stomps around the gym relentlessly enforcing the rules.
also, daniel just struck up an msn conversation with me. as if thats in any way socially acceptable behaviour. methinks this will be traumatic.

Fri, Apr. 9th, 2004, 08:54 pm

today is all about failure. first there was the failure to wake up. then there was the failure to do anything productive (i.e. finish one of my many overdue essays which by virtue of them being overdue makes them little failures unto themselves)i failed to procure alcohol g=for tonights festivities. and right now i am trying to get dressed to go to rookie's birthday party and faling miserably.
i have forgotten how not to fail and all these molehills look like mountains from way down in this hole.

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