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This morning I caught the fog before dawn turn to sunrise. Regard!





And while your at it, take a gander at the motherlode of wood we had to move and pile for ourselves. Real country livin.

After Pa and I are finished milking the chickens tonight, we are gonna start canning the squirrel preserves for the comin cold times.

Spiffity quick

Workity work work work. By work I mean eating a cookie and writing in my blog. I actually do have work to do but I am putting it off. There is usually a lull in the middle of the afternoon and work makes time go faster so I'll save some precious, precious work.

Worky worky work work.

This morning I used the building's complimentary shoe-shining contraption. I had eyed it, first suspiciously, then curiously, then covetously(new word?); all in month long phases since I've started working here. In fact, I think there may have even been a few days where I eyed it with contempt for some unknown reason. In the end, I gave in and had myself an old shoe-shine. You press a button and stick your shoe or ratty, abused 8 year old Blundstones in my case, under the cleaning brush, then press the "lotion" dispenser with your foot and put it under either the dark or light polishing brush. Didn't make them sparkle or even shine but they look less like I've been stepping in horseshit and razorblades. Ahh the wonders of modern science. "Spiffity Quick Shoe Polishing Robot. Won't make'em shiny but they'll look less like you've been in the horseshit and razorblades again! On sale at all excellent retail empires"

Last night I slept for a full 8 hours. Didn't even wake up once to pee. That's the first time in months and months and months and months and months. I feel so rested. Like I could accomplish tasks and everything. At least 1 task surely! It would be cool to sleep like that every night. Or even once a week. Once a month? Maybe it's a new dawn of a new full 8 hour sleep life.

I went to the dentist last night to get a large cavity taken care of. Now I feel like I have a sharp piece of popcorn stuck between my tooth. Why can they NEVER get it right the first time goddammit?

Can you even believe it's the end of november? I have to stamp the date a million times a day. I've never been so ultra-aware of the date and time as I am working here. Stampy stamp stamp. Every time I scan even a sheet of paper I stamp the date and then assign a scan id that is the month, day, year, hour, minute, second. I even count of the seconds. It's spilling over into my free-time as well. I'm finding I regard the clock and calendar incessantly for no reason. Always need to know what time it is. Do you know what time it is? What's the time? That's right, it's time to get ill. And what's the time? Why, it's still time to get ill. So what's the time? By golly, it's time to get ill. Please note that if you are not familiar with the Beasite Boys you will find a large void in your life that cannot be filled.

Have you ever caught yourself thinking in the mirror? Normally you approach a mirror with the awareness that you are about to see yourself. I just was so absorbed in thought that I caught myself for a second in the bathroom mirror unaware. It was creepy. Looking in the mirror is always creepy but it was extra creepy. Mirrors are the tool of the devil anyway.

So, to summarize, slept normal, shined shoes, noticed the time, saw self in mirror. Thrills are non-stop for this lady-person. Why, I haven't' even mentioned the scone I ate that tasted ever so slightly of lemon pledge but was good anyway. I wouldn't want to make you jealous.

Pa rump pa pa pum

Is it wrong to reprimand a homeless person? I guess I figure the answer is no because I just did. Every morning, the same guy is sitting by the church outside of my building. He shakes his little cup with an air of aggression as if that was going to convince people to donate. Maybe he is just clinkling the change to show us all that he's got some. I think not however. So this morning, he blew his nose in a tissue and then tossed it over his shoulder into the yard of the church. I said to him as I passed, "There is a garbage can right in front of you." There was, not even a foot away. He knew what I was talking about. He looked over his shoulder to the tissue.
Did he get up and correct the situation? I doubt it. I wasn't going to hang around and wait for it to happen. I don't know, it just annoys me. Obviously, people on the street usually have serious mental issues but, and here is where I get preachy, C'MON! I have seen him sewing up his bag and rolling cigarettes, it's not like he is so mental he can't think straight. Put the tissue in the fucking garbage can. Ya, that's the kind of mood I'm starting the day off with.

Hot beverage bells are going off in my head. They are saying "Ding dong Melissa, go buy me and drink me even though I'm just sugar and syrup mostly." Because why would I go buy a cup of mint tea for example. Waste of time. If I must buy a hot drink, it should have a long name and at least 3 different ingredients. It's just that kind of a cold, pre-winter day where you want to sit in a little coffee shop for a bit with your beverage and a baked good and a friend across. You could watchpeople walk by, puffing their breath visibly into the air out in the cold while you and your pal and your drinks were all toasty warm. You'd even enjoy the middle of the road, non-offensive CD they would be playing like John Mayer, or that mixed christmas cd they hand out to all retail stores with Bing Crosby and David Bowie singing Little Drummer Boy. Even that would be sitting well with you. Mind you I love that song and it always sits well with me but when you are hearing it as you walk past the GAP or Old Navy or whatever, it's more annoying. Not the song but the fact that it's playing in the situation it's playing in. I don't know what the hell I'm talking about. I think I'm making it up as I go along.

And yes, it's a new word, I made it up: clinkling.

You know, I'm just sitting here feeling kind of crappy and sorry for myself. Feeling fat and listless and tired, worrying about money and dentists and hair cuts and stuff. In the background I hear the manager complaining as usual that she is stressed out and swearing and cursing people in english, french and italian. Then the boss man comes back to our area. He wants to know about the arguments she has been having with the president(who confusingly is third in the chain of command) about work stuff and resposibilities and crap. The boss man(executive director?) asks her what's up with that and she complains a bit and then he tells her that his mother is in the hospital. They rushed her in with low blood pressure from internal bleeding and she's not responding to treatment and she's been anorexic for a year and they can't do surgery because she is too weak AND his wife is starting chemotherapy again but they know she is going to die and he thinks she probably is at home crying all day when he is not there but tries to put a brave face on it.

God.

That sure shut the manager up and it sure shuts me up too.

It's called pissing OK?!!

I'm just going to make a pit stop. I'm just going to the little ladies room. I'm just going to the Ladies. I'm just going to powder my nose. I'm just going around the corner. WHY DON'T YOU JUST TELL ME YOU ARE GOING TO PISS!! I would prefer it!

I'm just going to piss in the toilet. I have to piss like a race horse. I gotta piss out some piss into the piss hole from my piss hole. ANYTHING ELSE but what you tell me 10 times a day.

Here's the thing. It's the receptionist. I'm second in line to answer the door when she is gone so she has to call me to let me know each time she has to micturate(thank-you Big Lebowski for entertaining AND educating.). I cunnigly devised the plan for her, that she just call me and let it ring once and hang-up to indicate piss-time. I thought it would save me the cloying metaphors. Ha ha contre moi though! For some odd reason, she now feels compelled to physically swing past my desk now to let me know instead.

Hhhhhhh. That's my new aliteration for a resigned and mildly annoyed exhalation.

So this morning there was frost. Frosty frost on everything. I liked it. Sparkly and cold like frozen fairy land. Winter is here, oh yes indeed.

Tomorrow I will take some photos of the environ. Good for you! you say. Good for you too! Enriching, like hot vitamin chocolate. Why do they not make fortified, vitamin enriched, antidepressant, metabolism boosting hot chocolate?

Please, I beseech you, go read these insane movie scripts(that are really short) and share my joy. The debate is: were they written by someone THAT deliciously insane or are they just pure comic genius? You tell me! Just go here. To read more choose from the archives along the right-hand side of the page. Oh please someone else read them and enjoy with me! Here is a sample to wet your whistle:

"They fight around all these power tools and Napoleon wins but the guys boots don't fit so he sends the dead-corpse down the elevator (old-timey, made of wood and rope)with writing on his chest 'NOW I HAVE A MUSKET HO HO HO' and the terrorist leader is trying to act like he's all on top of it but he's shitting his old-timey pants(britches?)"

He's shitting his old-timey pants??!! (Britches?)!! If that does not make you laugh we can no longer be friends.

That is all.

You say you want a revolution?

Here is a word I think should be brought back into common usage. You can help me out on this. If you make a point of using it once or twice a day in the presence of others, it may catch and soon my wish will be granted.

Heretic. We just don't accuse one another of heresy anymore! It's funny, c'mon and do it!

Example: Somebody pushes you out of the way to get a seat on mass transit. You yell "Heretic!" at them. Watch out though, they may be learned. They may remark that they have done nothing to indicate straying from the doctrines of the Orthodox Catholic Church. You just shout back at them that obviously they are indeed worshipping at the teats of the false idol of pushy, assholeishness.

Think of the thrill of delight both you and any onlookers will feel at this refreshing approach to insult! Use it in more mundane settings also to liven things up.

Example: Having dinner with your pal. "Pass me the salt you godforsaken heretic."

Use it in a loving way too! If you think of it, it actually is a compliment. Who wants to be one of those Orthodox Catholic chumps? Not me.

Example: "My dearest, darling heretic, I miss you and wish you were here spreading the word of false idols with me here in the forlorn american bible-belt.

Or let's start using it as a hip new adjective.

Example: "Do you like my new sausage dog?" "Wow. Heretical!"

Ahem.

Well how about the word crud then? Let's start using crud more often.

Craptastrophy. Digitgradient. Bulgeous. Asscock. Lugubrious. Grotty.

What words do you want to hear more often?

AHH! Update! Update!

I came across this old word for snotty. Muculent. Isn't that great? There's another beautiful insult word for us to use becuase it's all about spreading love.

Today Brucey, I'm going to make you work!

Bruce Dickinson is still hot. Metalicious. Wether he be a long-haired minion of Satan in spandex and leather or a clean cut airline pilot.



My birthday was fab. Massages, vegan brunch, booze...good times people, good times.

Put up the old christmas tree. The winter tree as we like to call it. I tell you, I smelt snow this morning. I saw 2 tiny, hard flakes. It's coming. I welcome you winter. Snow and snow. I will frolick in thee.

Now excuse me, I must finish this wine and give Maiden my full attention.

what a useless blog! Just wanted and excuse to put up pictures of the Dickster.

happy birthday to me

What a fantastic day! Seriously. I could not have asked for better. I've been looking forward to today like mad. Usually I'm not all that big about my birthday but this year I really welcomed the excuse to just take a day off to myself and do my thing.

I slept in and spoke in french in my dream. Nothing terribly philosophical, just "Nous avons pas le temps pour ça. Faîtes-le vous-même." I can't remember the circumstance but it felt good to be saying.

So I slept in and when I woke, I promptly received 2 birthday greeting calls. I opened my 2 letters from friends and saw the sun come out from behind the clouds. I drank copious amounts of hot beverages and went for a walk to enjoy the first day of sun in ages.

The air today is like whipped cream. It's soft and mild and smooth. I went to the health food store and bought trail mix with papaya bits and walnuts and yogurt covered raisins. I talked to an old man about ducks. Now, here at home, enjoying cranberry juice and hommus with pepper crackers, I had to open the patio doors to get some more of that creamy air. The wind is starting to whip up and I can hear the river currents racing and the tall, tall tree branches swaying.

Perhaps the bonus of not having much free time is that you enjoy it sooo bloody much when you do get it.

33? You will be good to me.

This what today looks like:






Oh and while I'm posting photos, here are my pumpkins:



Happy birthday to Jonathan Ross and Danny DeVito and Martin Scorsese and me!

We all look like freaks!

Boring you softly with my song

Well well. Look who's feeling less like death warmed over.

Past few entries rather bleak but feeling on the upswing. Somebody is going to be 33 tomorrow. I have booked the day off work for the occasion. I mentionned it last week and they've probably forgotten and will be pissed off when I don't show up but I'm not reminding them in case they change their minds. It's my birthday dammit and I will NOT be working. No way, no how.

Instead, I will be sleeping in until nature awakes me rather than the effing alarm clock. I will be lounging in my new housecoat greeting the morning sun(or morning rain as the case has been for the last month.) on the lake with a steaming, fragrant cup of tea. I will play new cd's generously offered in honour of my 33rd year and wait for all the calls and mail of birthday greeting to arrive. Ha ha. Considering that I am ususally at least a week late greeting everyone else on their birthday, I'd be surprised to hear from anyone! I am a pro crastinator. I crastinate with the best of them.

Anyway, I intend to make my birthday day a leisurely, peaceful day to myself. Haven't had one in a long time it seems. Somehow I've managed to escape the full-time work routine up until my 32nd year and it's rough already. I can see those who have been grinding away for many years gritting their teeth in hissing disaproval of my whining. It's all relative. We all have crappy lives and then we die, each enduring our own personal hells.

Luckily, it's all punctuated by times of pleasantness. I won't go into details as it will sound like a Rogers and Hammerstein song. By the way, I love Sound of Music and I don't care who knows. I HATE musicals but dammit, I love the Sound of Music. So there.

Oh ya, I'm going to put up my christmas tree tomorrow also. Let the goodtimes roll.

Holy shit I would NOT suggest reading this, it's really bad. Seriously!

Look at this woman's beautiful photographs. Here They are so scary. She made them between 1970 and 1981 and then jumped out of her window to her death at age 23. Bloody art. So dangerous.

So what's the deal? Hardly any blogs this week. Shall I be honest and boring or make something up? There's just been nothing really. On the one hand I've been settling into a comfortable contentment that I haven't felt in quite a while. Had housing problems since I moved to Montreal that have always kept me on edge and seeped into all other parts of my life. Finally, at our new place, we can live in peace. I shudder in superstitious fear just typing it, but it's true. T and I are slowly unfolding into our human selves again. Living and being with the T is the best and happiest thing I've done. With a peaceful home to be together in, it makes life seem like it has a beautiful point to it. Yet, at the same time, a nasty chemical cloud of depression and anxiety is knocking about in my brain. Such an odd mix of feelings. It's like an unwelcome visitor that you know will just show up whenever it wants and won't leave until it's ready and when it comes, you let it in and try to carry on as normal until if fucking decides to leave again.

I write this as if it were a personal diary. What the hell though. I've always been a huge fan of truth. I love to hear the truth. And what else will I say anyway? I'm not a writer and I can't invent.

Here's the thing; I should not communicate with the world during PMS. Look at this blog entry! In the olden days, instead of publicly ranting about my insanity I would use the phone to work out all my heaving emotional issues. Can I get a "HEY!" from my girl peeps on that one? Calling up some asshole to show him/her a thing or 2 and winding up cementing the image of "psycho basket-case" that s/he had already pegged you for. Or calling some other loser, all weepy, begging for the care you deserve only to realize 10 minutes later that s/he's a complete moron who is AWFUL in bed and why in god's name are you lying to him/her by pretending to love or give a rat's ass about him/her when really, you barely even like them but you just want some validation for craps sake! I'm even tempted to call a few of them now to inform them that any attention they got from me was from a place of complete and utter self-loathing and could I, I would remove that portion of my life with a knife and light it on fire.

Ha ha. I just deleted an entire ranting paragraph about people I have previously known (male people) and what I would like them all to know about our times together. It wasn't friendly or pretty and even though I deleted it, it's darkness is still looming in the ether somewhere, bringing evil wherever it drifts. Don't you hate when you think about people you wasted precious time with and all you feel is an overwhelming desire to have a 4 day shower to clean the icky-icky memories off. Uh....

So my parents are coming to visit tonight for the the weekend. Lucky them! Hopefully I'll have kicked off some of the brain-stink by then. What a mishmash of genetic randomness hath sprung me forth. And now, I'm speaking in old english.

I think that's the signal to stop."Really?! You figure THAT'S the signal to stop? Good call trainwreck!"

Whoo. Someone needs some "rest".

Good start to an overcast monday.

I think the St. John's Wort makes me nervous in the service. What does that saying mean anyway? I go look up now.

If You're Nervous in the Service" was a marching song that was sung by female soldiers in World War II. Marching songs of this kind were for the purpose of keeping everyone in step, and they often had humorous lyrics:

"If you're nervous in the service, And you don't know what to do, Have a baby, get out of the Navy."

There ya go. Don't tell me I haven't learned you nothing.

SO anyway. Felt like I was a little too wound up today and decided to go buy some Valerian. Ya that's right, I'm a herbal junky. It worked real good. I feel relaxed now. So relaxed, I just stood in fascination, for a little too long, at the garbage can in the office lunch room and held the stalk of a big plant that had been thrown out. It was real big and had this big open channel inside of it suround by smaller open channels with each of them being, in turn, surrounded by even smaller channels. A fractal of nature. I kept thinking, "A fractal, a fractal. That's where the water goes. A fractal, a fractal." I was actually a little grossed-out too. Like cells in a microscope. All visceral and living and raw. It's called being 100% completely insane.

So there I was, holding this recently abandoned plant stalk, still half in the garbage, lost in fascination from a valerian-fuelled stupor, looking and thinking like a mad-woman. Luckily I don't think anyone really noticed. Or if they did, they didn't care.

Now I'm eating a pear and I can feel all the littel pear cells all compacted, fractalling their way into my cells. Okay, I can't really but I bet I could if I thought about it.

Moving on.

How's about that local sports team?

Sigh.