quite the penchant for mundane details...

send me some sign

December. 7, 1999

And, Jasmyn, since she will inevitably read this at some point, no disrespect to you babe, it's your life. But I can't handle these kinds of apartments. You know the type... the cigarette smoke trapped inside and the kitty litter scattered on the floors. Jesus, Buckingham Palace may as well be a trailor park if it were to smell like that. I doubt it does, and I would have no idea either way. I just know that I fucking hate spending any damn time in an apartment like that. It's a nice place. Or it wuz. But, Jesus, open a fucking window. Quit smoking. Get a covered litter box. Though it would likely be easier to just not have me over again, rather than make those adjustments. And no doubt that will be the solution once Jaz reads this. Again, it's your life/lifestyle, so don't bother giving a damn about my opinion of it. She seems happier than I have ever seen her, so I think it's great. I'm happy for her. (I just don't plan on moving in. No loss on behalf of either of us.)

I didn't sleep at all while there. I just lay next to Jasper in her bed hearing her steady breathing REM sleep while I twisted and turned and wriggled and squiggled and glanced at the clock to see how much time had passed since I last glanced at the clock. I can't sleep with people who fall asleep that easily! I remember that even as kids, having Jasmyn over or staying at her place, and she says goodnight, rolls over and she's dead asleep in seconds. Or she seems to be. Either way it means I will be wide fucking awake for the next many hours consumed with envy for the functionally restful at peace beside me. Plus, she had about 90% of the blankets.

Gave up on sleep around six am and got up to see Tara off. And listen to her crazy and crazed tales. Man, she's fucking funny. The night before she had just sat on the couch with drooping stoned eyes staring at the television, as we all were, and not speaking. So it wuz fun to listen and watch as she rants out these long wild stories of hers before she headed off to work. She's crazy. Wild.

Jasper woke up a few hours later and we stared at the TV together for a few more hours before the intense one-on-one bonding/communication that is watching TV with someone (it's a joke, son) got to be too much for me and I got out of Metrotown (aka Cracktown) via skytrain to head downtown for more jobhunting. *Good for you, Chaara!* I don't even know where the fuck I left my resume, I just walked into any place with a 'help wanted' sign outside and handed it to whoever approached me. Oh I am so focused. Ambitious.

I know I am not alone in this, but I want examples, I want other people's personal scenarios on this. You know when you go out into the world and all you can see is a million things you do not ever want any part of. Everything you see is another sad/repulsive/desperate scene you must be sure to avoid letting occur in your own life at all costs. "Shit, I don't want that. Oh God, don't make me live that. Please don't let that happen in my life." But you can't find a damn "realistic, plausible" thing among what you see that you even want a part of, let alone have be The Main Show of your life. You can find many, many things you want to live, and be, and see (in novels and movies and other beautiful works of fiction), but nothing that the powers that be will ever say "It's all yours!" to you about. And this kills you. This is the bain of your existance. And you constantly settle for less than the less than you are willing to settle for cuz you don't want to announce to those powers that be that you will accept their locks and doors that hold you away from that fabulous scene you want all of, every piece of... If you dive toward something that is less than what is offered as a compensation package to what you really want maybe you're sending these powers a message that says "Don't fuck with me. And don't try to fuck with the fate I am going to alter. Because This is mine." And sometimes you get really carried away in that.

David Bowie doing Morrissey's "I Know It's Gonna Happen Someday"... Perfect.
And now Elliott Smith's "Tomorrow, Tomorrow"....

Went to sleep around 8 or 9 last night, due to my lack of sleep the night prior. I wuz so dead tired. I wanted to take a bath before I went to sleep though since I probably smelled like smoke and cat litter from Jasper's place. And I had to make my bed. So close to unconciousness. Slow motion. Sleep in water. Then my mother wuz trying to tell me all about her party the other night and I wuz ready to tell her to shut the fuck up so it wuz nap time for Chaara. (Though the hazard of going to bed that early is the waking up early the next day . I don't like to be concious and walking about any time before noon under usual circumstances. That's likely cuz my mom is around at that time.) Nadya called just as I wuz lying down in my own fabulous clean comfy bed to sleep.

So dinner is planned for tonight with Nadya. Milestones. I will get that spinach and artichoke dip with the red tortilla chips. Mmm... I can hardly wait. I have a music lesson first though, more piano tricks. I suppose I ought to practice what I wuz taught last week. (Chaara is incredibly self-disciplined.)

Wow, look at that sky! It is blue and white today. Those pretty family-skiing-day kind of clouds. And the sun is shining into this room and into my face. My mom just came in and asked me to give her a list of what I want for Christmas. Don't you love that?

Finally got sober through napster. And prison sex. And I realized I subconciously paraphrased the following in some other rant, (though I have no idea what the date of it wuz):
"There's a shadow just behind me. Charting every step I take, making every promise empty... Pointing every finger at me, waiting like a stalking butler "

Interesting. What did I say? I didn't mean to. How much of what I write is me ripping off someone else and not even knowing it? I don't like that.