like good little roses

like good little roses


8:11 PM onward and upward...


Chocolate orange. I succumb to clever advertisements. Bought a "Terry's chocolate orange" today. ("Whack and unwrap.") And more of this vanilla hand lotion that I love so much. I do love food tasting/scented cosmetic products. Wuz looking for the chocolate flavoured ("malt ball" actually) lipstick I've very nearly run out of, but they didn't have it. Got the chocolate orange, french vanilla caffiene free instant coffee, and this vanilla hand lotion. Applause please. I managed to be a good little consumer, without an obvious freak-out in the store. I'm not a good shopper. It feels so weird. I don't like it. What am I doing here? BUY THINGS. I feel watched. But... that's my problem. In any case I am proud of myself for making it through the experience without clutching my head and mumbling to myself. No darting maniacal paranoid eyes. I maintained a sane facade. I haven't really left this small world of mine for a while. I feel like a mental patient sent into the real world for the first time, "Good for you Chaara."

I feel really out of character in the make-up section though. I'm looking through all these lipsticks and I'm comparing them. Doing the back-of-hand tests... I remember being thirteen/fourteen and harassing a friend for wearing make-up and shaving her legs. "Why?! What are you wearing lipstick for? Why do you shave your legs?" In this backward way. Like it's anti-feminist to wear cosmetics and have smooth legs. What a fucked-up communisty stance. Now I hate going without lipstick. I can live without everything else, but I must have my lipstick. And the fact that there is chocolate flavoured lipstick (okay, 'malt ball') and it is the best colour... I get very pre-pubescant in the excitement that generates in me. Goldmine baby. Fucking goldmine.

Walking along the highway in the rain. And I just remembered some people's condescending of me when I called that a highway. "Chaara, you have to see--- " Implying this 'get out more, small town kid. This ain't no highway, farmgirl.' stance. Like I just haven't seen the world, so naive. Fuck off. Think it just gave them the irresistable chance to allude to that. We are much more world-wise than you, child. I hate people who get like that. Just shut up, you pompous spazz.

Anyways, walking along the highway in the rain, I had this little narrative going in my head; "I'm going to fall in love with a drummer, with tattoos and guns and a roadtrippin' car, we're gonna move into a trailer park, make music, fuck like rabbits, and go on road trips constantly." ....This spawned from passing by the fully typically trashy trailer parks down by the river on my walk. Usually a class-snob-by-default like myself would look at these wretched landscapes and think "Never." But I can look and see some wild romance that I would love to get involved in, though it's not particularily an ambition of mine, it's something I realized I could totally enjoy if circumstances dictated it... "Kalifornia" romance. Or even "True Romance". Or "Love and a .45", only with better acting. And an actual plot. And I wouldn't be stupid. But I would like a polaroid camera. Yeah baby. Get yer gun.

I love it. At least there are people out there making movies that acknowledge the fact that poor white trash madly in love, armed, and on the run is very fucking romantic.

TRUE ROMANCE. That is the best film of the genre. I love that fucking movie so much. I remember when it first came out, I watched it every day for a week. Never lost it's power.

Tangent one; Chocolate:

Speaking of chocolate(weren't we?), I am faced with a problem I have not had to deal with before. I think chocolate is giving me zits. This is not cool by me at all. I spent my teen years with maybe one zit a month, and people bitterly commenting on my zit-free skin. And me quietly thinking, "Well, yeah, I'm just lucky." And now I have zits. (Happy?) And my mother tells me she has been getting zits since she spawned me. She's somewhere in her 40's. Don't tell me I am doomed to a life a zittiness henceforth. Is it chocolate that is causing this? Chocolate and I have an unconditional love. She's done some pretty harsh things to me in the past. Sent me into spazzing coughing fits, throat siezed up against oxygen inhaling, stomach twisted in pain. And I still love her. What is with that? It must be an honest addiction to justify things like that. This can't be good. And now zits. Where will I draw the line? People try to keep me and chocolate apart, but it only draws us closer. What a pathetic relationship. I can't quit you babe.

Andrea's mom has diabetes, so Andrea bought her some of the flavoured lipstick, like the stuff I use. Maybe, maybe, maybe, in time I could ween myself off real chocolate, and only get my fix through my lipstick. Though not as satisfying, perhaps I could experiment. Maybe these zits are caused by something else..?
Hope, hope.
In any damn case, it's getting on my nerves. I feel like the awkward zitty teen I never really wuz. Payback?
I'm not happy about it. Ignore. It'll go away.

Tangent two; My bike:

Since my little bike trip I have been neglecting my bike. Poor thing. (God, personifying inanimate objects is an irritating habit.) I haven't wanted to ride my bike anywhere at all. Except right now. 12:15 am it is, and I want to ride my bike somewhere. Perfect. I won't be going anywhere. I think of excuses. Right now it's too late. Usually it's too cold. Or rainy. Rain is the usual excuse, since it is usually raining. Now I am going stircrazy with desire to get on my bike and ride it somewhere. Oh, it'll pass. I don't move too fast these days. Need to get away need to get away.

Tangent three; Junior High:

"in my heart, in my heart i did no crime" -tori Dreams I've been having lately that are taking me back to my junior high years. Dream that I found Danielle, that wild child I wuz friends with in grade eight, at a festival. An outdoor concert down by the water, near my house. I see her, "Danielle!", throw my arms around her, and she backs off like I am the great Leper of Losers. All these people get in my face, "Stay away from her." "Don't worry, I just wanted to say hi..." "Okay now say bye." Really aggressive and intimidating forceful in-your-face posse she had goin' on, all at that moment assigned to keep me away from her. Very scary. And totally depressing, because time has put Danielle on a mythical pedestal, and I have wondered where she is now, and what it would be like to see her again. Does she know that for years after she vanished I couldn't go anywhere without people asking me "Where's Danielle?" "Have you seen Danielle lately?"? We were so linked in the eyes of our school mates that I wuz assumed to be privy to her whereabouts... We were both called "Sluts!" by snotty girls when we walked down hallways. (Tori sings "starfucker! just like my daddy" I love well-timed mp3s) Though I wuz a total prude, (I don't think I got any action that whole year) I wuz a slut by association. Do I have the right to write about this? "Just like your daddy, selling his baby. It's running in the family."

Anyways, as per the usual highschool slut ostricization, the guys she got with were ten times the slut she wuz. But that wuz completely overlooked by the 'we will make your life Hell' committee, of course. And even I participated in her downfall. My yearbook for that year is filled with comments like "Danielle's a slut!" "I can't believe you were friends with that bitch Danielle!" Wow. How quickly these judgements are made. And I didn't do anything to protest. Hey, she asked for it, right? I wuz just jealous. Down with Danielle! Needless to say, I am so glad I wuz kicked out of that school, or I may have never escaped that mentality.

Danielle wuz a pure hedonist. And she wuz shunned, hated, chased out for that. Again, the assholes she scored with were two dollar whores compared to her harmless playing around. And everyone acted like those guys were victims. (Ultimately people simply loathe sexually assertive women.) This wuz over six years ago, and I still think about it? Because I don't know where Danielle is. And I still remember the last time I talked to her she told me she wuz either going to "move to Edmonton, or kill myself." These were her available options? Just cuz she fucked some guys? (Again, do I even have the right to be writing about this? I can feel the voices of the jury and judges of junior high as I type... And her imagined posse pushing me around, to keep me away from her.)

I had so much fun with Danielle. She wuz fucking crazy, in the most fun and wild way. I remember running down hallways, around the campus screaming hyper wild madness at every and any chance we got. We were nuts. I know we were pushed around verbally a lot by people freaked out by us, and by teachers who didn't know what the hell to do about these two teenage-sized psychotic toddlers, but considering how fucking nuts we were they were pretty light on us, I guess. Maybe they all knew that I would soon be booted out, and Danielle chased out. So their patience wuz stretched a little more generously, knowing we'd be gone soon... Who knows.

I remember being with some other friends of mine, without Danielle. We were at a bus stop, and I wuz standing on the bench. I wuz screaming and lifting up my shirt at the passing cars, and this wuz totally normal fun-seeking behaviour to me, (with Danielle it would have been) till I looked over at the people I wuz with and they had these horrified looks on their faces, like, "Holy shit. What is she doing? She's lost control." And I just laughed and laughed, and kept lifting up my shirt at the passing cars. Those were good times!

But this is nostalgia... I'm just pissed cuz I can't shake the guilt. Where is she now? Would we be pleased to see eachother if we did ever connect again? Would it be weird, awkward? Or totally blank? Maybe we've seen eachother and not known it. But I am so overemphasizing. We were friends for less than a year, and I know I am so fucking far from who and what I wuz when I wuz in my first year of junior high. But I can't fucking help wondering what she's like now. What she's doing, where she is...

I think she would still be around here today if someone had just bought her Liz Phair's "Exile In Guyville".

Schools are spirit-breaking institutions. Meant for nothing else but that.

Tangent four; Rave kids:

Just watched some very funny news report on "raver kids". Made me laugh. I could see so clearly their aim. "Parents; beware. Your children are doing some bad things for kicks." Words like "all night", "as young as thirteen", and "designer drugs" were thrown in there for powerful effect. This wuz part one of a two part series on these "raver kids". It ended with a shot of a bunch of kids dancing wild and stupid like to the soundtrack of some sinister sentence mentioning the "designer drugs" again. The End. It made me laugh. I could see the kids they interviewed sitting at home with their parents in the suburbs, "Mom, you have to see this. You'll totally understand once you see this." It ends and mom says, "You are never leaving this house again." "But mom! They totally twisted our words! I don't even know what designer drugs are! We just go for the music. We just go to dance." Uh huh.

Made me think of a scene in Douglas Coupland's "Shampoo Planet" where Tyler is visiting his super-hippie father out in the backwoods. The dad says, "What's MTV? I'm not into these designer drugs..."

And (though I would say these rave kids have far more in common with the disco kids of the seventies than the hippies of the sixties, given the raver kids' terrible taste in music... ) it made me think of some TV thing I saw when I wuz a kid. (I mean really a kid. Like ten or so. Not this version of kid that I am right now. Still, thankfully. A decade later.) This whole 60's news special on "Flower Children". It scared me. They made these so-called flower children so frightening and sinister. Like a foreign army, threatening attack. They showed these images of strange colourfully dressed people dancing around in parks in large crowds and I wuz so confused by such fun and playful smiling sunshiney images juxtaposed with the "We are doomed. Gaurd your young. It may be too late" narrative playing over it all.

Does this mean that in, say, 20-30 years this generation's offspring will be moaning that they wish it wuz the nineties? Will they read about raves and Lollapalooza and think, "Fuck, that's where it's at, man. 2020 sucks. I wanna be Eddie Vedder. I wanna be Jewel."? Just as I sit here now, steadfast in my certainty that I'd be much happier in The Golden Age of Fucking and Drug-Ingestion that was the Summer of Love? I've heard nothing at all that would make me think that time wuz anything less than constant kick-ass wildness and bliss. What are the nineties but a decade of sheer painful longing for a bona fide re-living, piece by piece of the sixties.? That is my view of the nineties. Sitting around moping that we missed the sixties. And, how appropriate, Cat Stevens' "Oh Very Young" just came on my mp3 player... (So I'd want a recreation, with today's sweet technological advances. I want my mp3.)

"This is the end, my only friend. The end of our elaborate plans. Can you picture what we'll be? So limitless and free... "


We must make it our sworn duty to save the next generation of truth and love seeking youth from romanticizing this sad era! I wanted nude dancing in beautiful public parks. I wanted peyote visions. I wanted pagan sex. I wanted desert acid trips. I wanted multiple lovers. I wanted rock and fucking roll, always. Forever.

I got years of bedroom isolation and fantasizing. And who's fault is that? Is it too late? Why can't such fabulous eras stay? Why did it fade? And why do I cling to this fucking cliche'?

I wanted to end on a trailer park, gun toting, road trippin' romance note... Just watch "True Romance" for me. Love it then live it. I'll join you. "Here Romeo! Make my world as great..." Or "Natural Born Killers". Oh yes. With less to go wrong.



That quote came to me, further along my walk.

Perfect. _____________________________________________ "She's a diamond that wants to stay coal. I swang out wide with her, on Hell's iron gate. Anything that you wanted, you could have. She's a swan and a pistol, and she will follow you like this...." "I wuz stirring my brandy with a nail, boys. Stirrin' my brandy with a nail..." -Tom Waits