pg 48


May 29, 2010, 11:09 pm
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2006

montreal

vancouver

halifax/montreal/fredericton

2007

montreal

grand canyon via denver/salt lake

southern cali

2008

ny ny’s

hitchhike-winnipeg/regina/calgary/revelstoke

ny/nj

brooklyn/ny

2009

chicago

halifax

manitoulin

pittsburgh

2010

montreal

ny/sf/portland/seattle/victoria/vancouver

drive across-thunder bay/sioux lookout/winnipeg/saskatoon/edmonton/jasper/revelstoke/van

seattle/sf

2011

portland

seattle

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May 24, 2010, 9:19 pm
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May 24, 2010, 6:48 am
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the joy formidable-whirring
the acorn-restoration
veronica falls-found love in a graveyard
two door cinema club-i can talk + something good can work



May 24, 2010, 6:20 am
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john cale-all my friends
the avett brothers-i and love and you
the do-at last

my roommate jack badly needs a haircut. he’s not supposed to come into my room as i have an inflatable bed and he is prone to incessant scratching but i know he’s been anyway. how? well the balls of hair left here, there, over by the cigarette butts, underneath the shed of my ‘professional’ papers. on the phone this afternoon, bored by yet another hesitation on the speaker’s part, i passed the time by collecting it all into one large pile. this made me happy, the whole process did, so that when i chuckled to myself upon finding each and every clump i wasn’t alone. i was with my hesitant speaker, long put on mute, who by that point had finally found their words but also unexpected dismay in hearing their frustrations met with a chuckle. apologies friend. you should really blame jack. i have been. for one, by no fault of his own, i’ve been blaming him for my other roommate’s tendency to speak to him as though he is a baby. and yes however much he does recall images of a babe in his unfailing whiny temperance, this does not mean he is a babe. it means he needs a haircut and it means you haven’t given him one because of last time, when he lashed out, hurting your neck, cutting your forearm. tougher love. this i don’t agree with. tough love stinks. letting someone know when they’ve done wrong is not tough love so long as you wrap it in the package that says, you are not bad. what you did is bad.



dearest stranger in the bushes outside my/our house,
May 22, 2010, 8:46 am
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no, i have never seen you come just as i have never had the patience to wait and see you go. this does not mean i am wrong in my certainty that you are/have been/will continue to be there. but nightly, when i come out for a cigarette and curse myself for doing so-though this you cannot see-i can see you. yesterday for instance you made an altogether stupid decision in wearing a red toque. why?

there are seven people in this house, of which i am one. who is it that you come to see?



May 22, 2010, 8:43 am
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everyday the blinds open but not for very long. knowing this, having learned the closest it could become to being called a pattern, dudley laid in wait. not actually laying of course for the house, though it stood across from a perfectly public park that was truly one of a kind and had he laid in wait, surely would have been discovered and the routine would have to have been changed

he was almost certain the owner of this house wore a wig even though they had chosen an all white one. then they were balding. then she was balding. dudley’s grandmother muriel was balding and that’s why, according to his mother, his grandmother wore her hair in a perm. in church as a child, when he was forced, every sunday to go, would he choose to sit alone, apart from his mother, his father, his sister and his family dog, at the back of the church and watch a cavalcade of white, grey permed heads riding the dead horse faces beneath.

it was the one free choice they granted him. to sit in church by himself. of course being so close to the minister, not to mention their proximity to god, did his family sit at the very front while he took to the very back row/pew in an effort to better acquaint himself with the myriad ways those present felt about their lord jesus christ albeit via body language, a drooping head, snapped back awake by its own discomfort or worse the towering tones of minister doug.

as a result, of sitting alone, he came to be known as religiously thoughtful. initially, during the coffee hour, normally from 1030-1130 following 9 o’clock service did fellow church goers think this meant a bad seed had sprung within him. but, following their questions, all he could bring himself to say being ‘wells’ or ‘i really don’t have the moral experience to say” not having the courage to stand up and directly oppose, well then he came to exude a certain level of religious thoughtfulness, wisdom really, so that eventually came to hold a sort of court amidst cracked china and spilled coffee, welling up in the divots of folding tables older, no doubt more pious, than he.

what did he think the sermon was pointing towards. are we doomed, was that the point, asked to his ever constant replies of ‘hmmm’, ‘well i really can’t say that…’ trailing off but never leaving anyone hanging for there was always another to interpret with their own question sometimes comment. it didn’t matter his answer, for he was the only one keeping track that there never was one, rather knowing that they longed to ask questions and be heard by the ‘group’.

the autonomy he had from his family extended to getting a ride home afterward. he didn’t want one. instead he would take the dog home and walk, through the neighbourhood of the church, along streets stretched eloquently long by the large homes which stood throughout. theirs being the only dog allowed in church, not because a blind family member necessitated him but rather because no one had found the courage to challenge it that first sunday and every sunday onwards.

cheeky was/is a coon hound. black and tan in coat, cool and patient in personality. before they/their family, had welcomed her, to their homes/lives, cheeky held down a full time job at the vet school. hounds are renowned for their stillness, their chillness so that when it came time to teach, all that was needed was a hand on fur to render her still. dudley much imagined the position she chose while in church-in the sitting position on the pew-was how she could be found any given day at the clinic/school.



May 22, 2010, 5:13 am
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i should be applying for jobs right now but really i needed to tell somebody what just happened to me at library number 1 about an hour and a half ago. there i was, minding my own business, applying for yet another job (i’m starting to get discouraged, constantly forget i’ve only been at this for a week). yeah, so this fellow sits down at one of the computers (context: middle aged, drunk, tells everybody he’s from nicarauga, we hadn’t asked). after 2 minutes he tells (yells at) the computer to shut up. this goes on at 5 minute intervals for 15 minutes. the librarian eventually comes over and tells him he’s using a “library catalogue” computer instead of an “internet” computer. luckily (unluckily) there’s an available computer right beside me. librarian leaves. drunk man starts talking to me. i have head phones in so i take them out and say what. he slurrs nonsense at me and grabs my hand. i pull it away swiftly. he starts licking his lips and making kisses at me. i tell him “no, i am not interested, i’m going to go back to using my computer now.” why is it everybody sounds like a douche when they’re trying to reason with random crazies. thankfully he gets distracted trying to find his shoes (which are on his feet). as he’s getting up to leave he LITERALLY caresses my face. thankfully i pull away so there wasn’t that much touching but jesus fuck jesus fuck i haven’t been that creeped out in a while. fuck, i’m still scattered about it.

so to sum up, vancouver is nice! i’m having a blast!