diary Archive: April 2008.

april, 2008

April 29, 2008
splitting hairs
I can't believe that I'm writing in my diary about American Idol.... again. Oh dear. Oh well.
The favorite to win from day one this year has been David A. - he is undeniably talented so no wonder. But - geeze - he doesn't look old enough to have pubic hair let alone a recording contract.

April 26, 2008
bliss?
People are just ignorant everywhere.

April 25, 2008
army dreamers
All these people in the armed forces in Iraq fighting this sick, sick war. Yet another useless war - precious to the power players and a horror show for the rest of us. Why aren't countries military forces fighting the wars that rage on with almost no interest in their own countries? There's something like a quarter of a million homeless children in America... a mind-blowing fact. Why not use the armed forces to go into the streets and rescue these children? Hell, for the number of military personnel and the amount of money wasted in the horror-wars we could send troops into the streets of our own countries - assisting people who so desperately need a hand (who are literally dying in front of our eyes)... feed the hungry, direct people who need help - the homeless, prostitutes, children in crisis - to the exact places they can get some kind of real assistance... getting their lives in gear. Food, shelter, employment, medical care to name just a few. Not rubber stamping some bullshit welfare cure. And with the kind of money spent on horror wars all of this and way more could easily be done. One minute we're told that a country has no money and in the next breath billions are found to fuel these endless, useless, hideous wars... and for what? Cheap oil? To see who the bigger man is - might makes right? Right? Fuck. Billions of dollars and God knows how many lives lost. God knows how many lives visited by the worst kind of grief. All so one power wielder can show another who has the biggest dick. Bastards. Low life politicians lost in their fucking power orgasms - feels so good they want more and more and more and more.... I have to laugh at all the people (including myself) who say "Well, November's coming and we'll finally be rid of Bush." Pretty fucking naive. How the hell do we know that the next guy won't do an even worse job. You don't know - but you can be sure that whoever the hell it ends up being will most definitely be shady at the very least. And they will be. All politicians are shady to a greater or lesser degree and the bigger the power base they get, the shadier they become.
Yeah, yeah, yeah - I'm ranting again. What else is new? Big fucking deal - it's my own goddamn diary - I'll rant till my fucking head explodes if I feel like it (and at the rate I'm going here it's entirely possible that my head could explode)... and as for the website version - same deal. My website I'll rant and rave and spew whatever shit I feel like - and those that don't like it can visit some other damn website. They can go visit Barney the fucking dinosaur's website.

April 23, 2008
mistress of the marshmallow patch
Super freaky psychedelic marshmallows growing under the pink sun in the wild marshmallow patch. Tasty morsels on stems from a rubber plant. Bjork sitting in this Marshmallow Garden of Eden singing some of her strange and lovely songs in a most animated way - oblivious to the marshmallow plants, lost in her own deep thoughts.

April 22, 2008
when smoke gets in your eyes
Woke from my nap this evening to the smell of smoke. A very strong smell of smoke. Turned on a light and saw that there was smoke actually in the bedroom with me. Seeing no flames in the room I had to wonder, Am I on fire?
No it wasn't hot stuff (aka yours truly) that was in flames, it was a new restaurant a stone's throw away. Big time fire. Whole neighbourhood engulfed in smoke.
Watched the fire from my window and marvelled at it. This huge and scary destroyer also absolutely beautiful - so much light and so much colour.
When I was a kid I was obsessed with spontaneous human combustion and thought how cool it would be to see someone burst into flames in the blink of an eye.
Tonight I was relieved that it wasn't me.

April 20, 2008
trying times
Trying, trying, trying - always trying.
And trying desperately not to become saturated with frustration and despair.
So much I CAN do.
So much that I CAN'T.
Never mind - I'm in one of those weird moods.
Too much thinking. Not enough watching cartoons and eating junk food.

April 19, 2008
wont you take me to funky town
In a labyrinth of a funk. Uncertain how I got in and looking to get out. I heard somewhere that the way to find your way through a labyrinth is to put your hand on one of the walls as soon as you entered and not remove it from that wall as you pass through. But unfortunately I didn't know I was going in one. Or maybe it's a just a maze, a map - a road to... what? Funky town?

April 18, 2008
was it something i ate
A long and involved dream tonight filled with darkness and coldness. Winter. Huge snowbanks on either side as I walk along a sidewalk. I see Boy George (?!?) in the distance wearing this enormous headdress - had to be 25 feet high - tier on top of tier of back feathers hanging perfectly straight and aligned on each row. He says something to someone else - I'm no longer in the snow at night, it's some kind of museum maybe. He turns to face me - he looks younger and thinner than he has been of late. He looks at me sadly and turns away.... and presto! - I am on the sidewalk again. Snowbanks on either side as tall or taller than me. I look to my right. I see a woman lying on a snowbank. She is sticking fingers down her throat and vomiting blood. I gasp and awaken.
Pretty gross, I know. I've had worse though.

April 16, 2008
fucking flu
I feel wretched.

April 15, 2008
hey - that kid is smoking
I remember being about twelve years old and my periodic ritual of smoking a cigarette at the top of the slide on a playground in my neighbourhood.
I would "borrow" a cigarette from one of my parents or my grandmother or aunt. I recall having a whole pack at some point - hidden in a box at the bottom of a trunk.
There was an okay playground a couple of minutes from my house. I would go there in the evenings (during the summer months) as there was usually no one else there.
There was a slide on the playground - one of those twisty ones. Quite high as I recall - then again I was much shorter than I am now, so maybe not as high as I think.
I remember clear as anything the feel of the handlebars on either side of the ladder when climbing up - they were blue and had the odd rust patch here and there. I could climb to the top and sit up there - my perch. I had a bit of a fear of heights but for these occasions I would set my fears aside.
I'd light that contraband cigarette and sit and smoke there at the top of the slide - pondering the mysteries of the universe, pondering who I was and why I was the way I was. Why I felt different and tense all the time. Some of the answers I knew - others I had a hunch about. Things did seem clearer to me there.
Smoking that cigarette, thinking in the soft lull in the transition of day to evening was one of the most relaxed times I felt myself having at that point in my life.
For a heavily populated neighbourhood brimming over with kids it was always remarkably quiet at that time of the evening and I felt reasonably sure I would not be caught in the smokey act. Being as I was high up I could see who or what might be approaching.
I can vividly recall what those forbidden smokes tasted like - no cigarette at any other time in my life tasted like those ones did. Not that they were so much better than others - just different. I smoked for many years and enjoyed it very much but never experienced that top-of-the-slide taste again.
My cigarette smoked, my pondering concluded, I would make my way back down the ladder (I never used the slide - don't know why) and check to see if the streetlights had come on, which was my curfew - when the lights came on it was time to go home.
Walking home I always felt better than I did before my cigarette. Is it any wonder that I went on to smoke for sixteen or so years?
Amazing really that I quit.

April 14, 2008
billy wigboom exposes himself
It was an impulse he didn't understand. But once he decided to do it, he knew it was too late to stop even if he wanted to do - his fly was already unzipped.

April 13, 2008
waterlilies
M____ and I have been talking about waterlilies so much that I found myself dreaming about them tonight. When I woke up I couldn't help but laugh.

April 12, 2008
get smart(er) - get some rest
I___ tells me that "we should give ourselves permission more often to rest and rest and rest." This is something that I really need to hear. (Which I guess proves that there is a needle in every haystack - cause that one simple and true thing I need to hear comes within a day when 90% of what I hear is just total and complete bullshit.) M____ is always telling me the same thing more or less - that I need more rest. Dr. A___ too. And, thinking about it now, my mother is always saying "rest is so important." Isn't it time that I become smart enough to actually do it? I mean, geeze! Wake up and get some sleep for God's sake.

April 11, 2008
the rusty blades of verosia
After finding what they hoped would be the new promised land they set about to making their new lives. But their promised land proved to be no Eden - it was as corrupted and full of holes as the world they'd left behind. The women left to mixing colours to bleed by and the men to circumcise themselves with rusty blades. The children were abandoned and left to their own devices. And they called this new land Verosia.

April 9, 2008
just write a friggin' cheque
Watched the first 15 minutes of "Idol Gives Back" and had to turn the fuckin' thing off. I just couldn't stomach it. Why can't anyone do a good thing just because it's a good thing.... or do the right thing cause it's the right thing to do? Why does it have to be a fuckin' PR opportunity. Exxon Mobil had their logo prominently on the screen during the opening number - you mean to tell me that they can't afford to be charitable without having to fucking advertise their kindness? And all this bullshit about celebrities "generously giving of their time." Fuck their bloody time. They should just write a friggin' cheque. "Hi you should send money because I'm famous and I say so." What a load of bullshit. Not only is it ludicrous and distasteful it also perpetuates this massive media myth of "I'm famous and that makes me infinitely better than you - emulate me or you are lower than dirt on the ground."
Yes, they will raise lots of money for causes that so greatly deserve it- and yeah, I guess that is the bottom line. But does it have to be so crass and self-congratulatory?
What a fuckin' world we're living in, where an act of kindness has a price tag. Whether it's for the PR or advertising or shameless self-promotion... no act of kindness or generosity shall exist unless the bestower of said kindness or generosity is compensated in some way.
Fuck that.

April 8, 2008
i can't be the one to freak out
In my dream I am gathered with a huge group of parents waiting for a truck that will have the bodies of children who have drowned. The parents are here to recover their children's bodies. It's unclear to me as to why I am there - I have no children. It seems like I know one of the parents - a woman who looks like Rosie O'Donnell. Maybe it was Rosie O'Donnell, I can't be 100% sure. When the truck arrives (a big one - bus sized) we get in the back. I brace myself as I am expecting to see just the kid's bodies as they are or maybe they will be in traditional body bags. Instead the bodies (stacked in a pile - at least 50 of them) are in these beautiful bags that look like really nice quilts (mostly white) with long zippers - like a traditional body bag in structure. At the foot end of each bag is a child's name beautifully stitched - embroidered - on the bag. Red stitching - large letters. Ornate. We quickly find the bag with the name of this woman's child. Can't remember the name except that it began with B and was fairly short - 5 letters maybe. We take the bag from the pile and lay it on the floor of the truck. She sits at the head end of the bag. At my end is the zipper pull - I look to her to see if she is ready to face this horror. She nods. I am terrified, horrified and unsure if I can hold it all together - but I know that I can't be the one to freak out. I have to remain steady - this is this woman's child for Christ's sake. I slowly start to pull the zipper and see a child's feet in sneakers - I'm holding my breath - I pull further up and see his legs. I feel like I'm going to lose it completely. But then I notice it - his foot is twitching. His leg moves slightly. "His leg is moving," I tell the mother. She quickly unzips him the rest of the way. A little boy - no more than seven or eight. His breathing is laboured but he is alive - maybe not vigorously alive and kicking, but on his way to it. "We have to pray," I tell the mother, "We have to thank God." She looks at me seriously. I look her in the eye, put my hands together and begin praying out loud.
I woke up suddenly, feeling like I was going to throw up or something.

April 7, 2008
good evening saddam
During my nap this evening I had my second (in two days) dream about Saddam Hussein.
He sits across a table from me. Impeccably dressed in a blue suit. His eyes are large, dark and unmistakably kind. I'm very engaged in this exchange. I ask him if he is well. He says something about his sons. Says he has two sons. He asks me to do something for him - can't remember what. I nod yes - I will do it. He leans forward.
That's all I remember.
For some reason I have the Prince song, "Darling Nikki," stuck in my head tonight. I don't think the two things are related.

April 6, 2008
our lady of egypt
Cleopatra sits on the edge of the wishing well, singing a song both sad and old. A car drives by - a woman in it waves. Something shifts in the sky. E-mails pour in. Our Lady of Egypt points to the water and our hearts beat faster. Will she have what she wishes for? If she doesn't will she simply just continue to sit there? Will the well run dry?

April 4, 2008
inches of spam
SPAM is one of the great irritators of the universe. But some of it you have to love. Like this one, I happened upon today....

"You are one click away from adding inches to your manhood..."

Sorry - don't need 'em.

April 2, 2008
a whiter shade of idol
Another non-caucasion bites the dust. Why is no one else talking about this? God knows there is an endless supply of bullshit entertainment shows out there. I guess no one wants to acknowledge racism and homophobia. I don't know why I just wrote "I guess," cause I know that no one wants to acknowledge racism and homophobia. No one wants to stare into that particular mirror at their own faces - unless it's to fix their fuckin' hair.

Webmonster's note:

The photography section has been updated to include a series of photographs taken by Orchidbau of, appropriately enough, orchids. Go have a look!

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