Somehow in the bright fake light of a motel hallway, faces are distinguished. They are burnt and contorted, remembered, fixed and emptied.
The skin around her mouth is tight and tan. It matches her hands. Her hair is an unnatural blonde, and her roots have grown out roughly 5 inches.
There isn’t much to her except the lines on her face that she seems to carry weightlessly, without notice.
Smiling, she heads back outside, and I get into bed.
There is a ray of artificial light coming through the crack in the curtains. Red and vibrant, I shut off the TV.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
this piece was stolen from me awhile ago. the girl I wrote it about did the stealing. I find it laughable now, whereas I was super pissed when it first happened. oh well, what is anything without some humor.
She, An adaptation of my own self, I feel. She is here, where as I am somewhere else. She is a story yet to be told, held briefly in the palms of my hands, across my fingers. She is the intertwined nature of my heart, pushing blood around, displacing energy to make me, me.
She. If I could reach the places that no one reaches. If I could touch the spots on her that no one else could. If I could carve a notch for every time she’s made me smile, into a different tree then I’d need every tree in the world.
And when they cut those trees down, as industry demands, I’d steal the wood and make chairs, and we could sit there, until our age catches up with us. And my hands would trace over the notches, time and time again, until it’s worn down and so am I.
If I could find the words to tell her, I would. And when I can’t, I’ll steal dictionaries and take random words and make them work. Replevy: To recover goods wrongfully taken or detained. For her affection taken, I’ll take it back and keep it safe. Horripilate: To produce a bristling of the hair on the skin. What she gives me when her hands meet mine, when her eyes meet mine, her breath meets mine. Liminal- relating to the point beyond which a sensation becomes too faint to experience. Something I hope she never feels, when she feels me.
And If I run out of words someday, I’ll just invent more, and each one will tell another story to her, and we’ll entangle ourselves in these words, lost in the literal translation of us. I’ll spend years trying to catch my breath when she looks my direction and years more trying to give her instances in which she has nothing to do but smile.
I’ll write her a card, every day, since the day we met, and I’ll fill them with prose, with moments I’ve caught and stored inside myself, like when I first felt that smile or when her skin first met mine, when I first felt her heart beat. When she first made mine race.
And It will continue to race, stolen cars inside my chest, the Indy 500 beneath my ribs. It will fight to escape and come out and say hello. Oh hey, this is me, this is what you’ve gotten, what you’ve taken, and stolen. What you’ve earned and hold. It’s a process you know, each day and minute another test of things.
And my heart will get back in the car and race to its next destination within our confinement and smile. Just smile.
Because it feels like it’s won.
She, An adaptation of my own self, I feel. She is here, where as I am somewhere else. She is a story yet to be told, held briefly in the palms of my hands, across my fingers. She is the intertwined nature of my heart, pushing blood around, displacing energy to make me, me.
She. If I could reach the places that no one reaches. If I could touch the spots on her that no one else could. If I could carve a notch for every time she’s made me smile, into a different tree then I’d need every tree in the world.
And when they cut those trees down, as industry demands, I’d steal the wood and make chairs, and we could sit there, until our age catches up with us. And my hands would trace over the notches, time and time again, until it’s worn down and so am I.
If I could find the words to tell her, I would. And when I can’t, I’ll steal dictionaries and take random words and make them work. Replevy: To recover goods wrongfully taken or detained. For her affection taken, I’ll take it back and keep it safe. Horripilate: To produce a bristling of the hair on the skin. What she gives me when her hands meet mine, when her eyes meet mine, her breath meets mine. Liminal- relating to the point beyond which a sensation becomes too faint to experience. Something I hope she never feels, when she feels me.
And If I run out of words someday, I’ll just invent more, and each one will tell another story to her, and we’ll entangle ourselves in these words, lost in the literal translation of us. I’ll spend years trying to catch my breath when she looks my direction and years more trying to give her instances in which she has nothing to do but smile.
I’ll write her a card, every day, since the day we met, and I’ll fill them with prose, with moments I’ve caught and stored inside myself, like when I first felt that smile or when her skin first met mine, when I first felt her heart beat. When she first made mine race.
And It will continue to race, stolen cars inside my chest, the Indy 500 beneath my ribs. It will fight to escape and come out and say hello. Oh hey, this is me, this is what you’ve gotten, what you’ve taken, and stolen. What you’ve earned and hold. It’s a process you know, each day and minute another test of things.
And my heart will get back in the car and race to its next destination within our confinement and smile. Just smile.
Because it feels like it’s won.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
a cherry plank a float in simple temped waters
she’s graceful in between all the right lines
a calm cool collected version of anyone but myself, she remains, I remain, all day
until crisp sunlight eats away the layers of our skin
and makes memory’s faded scars on our backs
until we laugh, cold water pooling around our toes, and remember next time to wear sun screen
hands held, close fists, around each other we sleep
and together wake up on sunken ground, too weak to handle our collective selves
I am merely meek, wilted in the morning
before coffee and toast
before breakfast television and all things considered
trying, failing, movement forward. face this day.
face this day.
but I can’t.
I can’t reenact the successful parts of me, or get them together in one room anymore
so destined is my destiny to forget what day it is.
forget what night it is
and just remain a sunburnt version of her.
she’s graceful in between all the right lines
a calm cool collected version of anyone but myself, she remains, I remain, all day
until crisp sunlight eats away the layers of our skin
and makes memory’s faded scars on our backs
until we laugh, cold water pooling around our toes, and remember next time to wear sun screen
hands held, close fists, around each other we sleep
and together wake up on sunken ground, too weak to handle our collective selves
I am merely meek, wilted in the morning
before coffee and toast
before breakfast television and all things considered
trying, failing, movement forward. face this day.
face this day.
but I can’t.
I can’t reenact the successful parts of me, or get them together in one room anymore
so destined is my destiny to forget what day it is.
forget what night it is
and just remain a sunburnt version of her.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
I slept today. and when I say slept, I really mean SLEPT.
like 19 hours slept.
it seems to be the only thing my body wants to do anymore, that and eat ice cream cones. I can’t conceivably find a way to do both at the same time, so someone is always missing out.
really though. I’ve been on trazadone for 6 months now and can’t say it’s doing anything good or bad for me. my sleep is still a mess. 2 hours here, 6 hours there, 18 hours, 57 minutes. it’s all just random. my entire life I’ve had this same sort of luck with the blissful slumber. I can remember being 6 years old and sneaking out of my room into the basement rumpus room to watch amazing discoveries and old re runs of classic movies. I fell in love with Marylin when I was 6. gentleman prefer blondes.
Audry stole my heart from her though. in my fair lady. those big eyes and partial smiles. she always had this secret air about her that made me want to crawl inside of her and go to sleep. the old 70’s couch my grandparents gave us, across from the huge box tv with no remote, me with an old crocheted blanket that smelled like the basement, and Audry. I’d fall asleep thinking I was on her lap, she was playing with my hair and stroking my cheek, humming me into dreamland.
of course I would be rudely awoken moments later when the commercials came on. because back then the volume balance from movies to commercials was all fucked up.
Scared that someone in the sleeping house would wake up and catch me, and I’d get in trouble, I’d scramble to the remote-less tv to turn the volume down as quickly as my childhood hands would let me. but the moment was ruined, regardless of the volume. I’d drag myself back upstairs to my room and spend the rest of the night staring out the window into the darkness, until the darkness turned to morning, and morning turned to another day of me being tired.
I never though that I used to be so scared. scared of the dark. or so scared of things that I can barely breath. where I dream anxiety attacks and wake myself up only to be shoved right back into that panic.
But I guess I’ve always been scared. in one form or another. even back then at 6, if I couldn’t sleep, if I couldn’t see the street, if I had to panic. If I had to be scared, I figured I should be crying. I used to think of the saddest things I could remember so I could cry. because I never seemed to cry at the right times. I felt I was training myself to be normal, so when my grandpa passed away, or when my dad left my mum, the tears would be real. born out of sadness. but the shame I carry that I never did cry properly makes me pause to remember those sad things. I guess it’s distraction. I guess it’s a lot of things.
I wish I could go back to being buried under that old crocheted blanket, sucking my thumb and imaging me and Audry Hepburn living happily ever after one a torn ugly couch. because at least then I was sure of how I felt.
like 19 hours slept.
it seems to be the only thing my body wants to do anymore, that and eat ice cream cones. I can’t conceivably find a way to do both at the same time, so someone is always missing out.
really though. I’ve been on trazadone for 6 months now and can’t say it’s doing anything good or bad for me. my sleep is still a mess. 2 hours here, 6 hours there, 18 hours, 57 minutes. it’s all just random. my entire life I’ve had this same sort of luck with the blissful slumber. I can remember being 6 years old and sneaking out of my room into the basement rumpus room to watch amazing discoveries and old re runs of classic movies. I fell in love with Marylin when I was 6. gentleman prefer blondes.
Audry stole my heart from her though. in my fair lady. those big eyes and partial smiles. she always had this secret air about her that made me want to crawl inside of her and go to sleep. the old 70’s couch my grandparents gave us, across from the huge box tv with no remote, me with an old crocheted blanket that smelled like the basement, and Audry. I’d fall asleep thinking I was on her lap, she was playing with my hair and stroking my cheek, humming me into dreamland.
of course I would be rudely awoken moments later when the commercials came on. because back then the volume balance from movies to commercials was all fucked up.
Scared that someone in the sleeping house would wake up and catch me, and I’d get in trouble, I’d scramble to the remote-less tv to turn the volume down as quickly as my childhood hands would let me. but the moment was ruined, regardless of the volume. I’d drag myself back upstairs to my room and spend the rest of the night staring out the window into the darkness, until the darkness turned to morning, and morning turned to another day of me being tired.
I never though that I used to be so scared. scared of the dark. or so scared of things that I can barely breath. where I dream anxiety attacks and wake myself up only to be shoved right back into that panic.
But I guess I’ve always been scared. in one form or another. even back then at 6, if I couldn’t sleep, if I couldn’t see the street, if I had to panic. If I had to be scared, I figured I should be crying. I used to think of the saddest things I could remember so I could cry. because I never seemed to cry at the right times. I felt I was training myself to be normal, so when my grandpa passed away, or when my dad left my mum, the tears would be real. born out of sadness. but the shame I carry that I never did cry properly makes me pause to remember those sad things. I guess it’s distraction. I guess it’s a lot of things.
I wish I could go back to being buried under that old crocheted blanket, sucking my thumb and imaging me and Audry Hepburn living happily ever after one a torn ugly couch. because at least then I was sure of how I felt.
Friday, July 8, 2011
honesty honesty..Honestly?
wouldn't it just be so much easier for me to say "hey. I like you. I'm willing to be a jester for feeling. and idiot at expression. I'm willing to propell myself into fits of anxiety if you asked me to. I'm willing to face rejection and slap it around before it takes me home because I LIKE YOU"
but hey. since when do we do things the easy way.
wouldn't it just be so much easier for me to say "hey. I like you. I'm willing to be a jester for feeling. and idiot at expression. I'm willing to propell myself into fits of anxiety if you asked me to. I'm willing to face rejection and slap it around before it takes me home because I LIKE YOU"
but hey. since when do we do things the easy way.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
there's no new thing like a new thing. like a new fling, like a new ring? ring ding ding?
whhhhateevver.
You can't honestly sit there and tell me that connections, albeit brief or otherwise, don't leave you feeling just a tad bit overwhelmed with possibilities.
I smoke too many cigarettes, I sit here and smoke way way way too many cigarettes. and I think about the lighting and how carefully placed I make my hands. and how often no one cares to notice the effort I make when placing said hands. or when placing anything else, for the record.
no no. it's all chance, and coincidence. and how the things I know are the things you know but that's as far as it seems to go.
but I wish for a second, sipping cider out-the-can. I wish so briefly that I could stagger towards your mouth with the appropriate rhyme and reason and complications that would make you be that one person who does take notice.
dot dot dot.
whhhhateevver.
You can't honestly sit there and tell me that connections, albeit brief or otherwise, don't leave you feeling just a tad bit overwhelmed with possibilities.
I smoke too many cigarettes, I sit here and smoke way way way too many cigarettes. and I think about the lighting and how carefully placed I make my hands. and how often no one cares to notice the effort I make when placing said hands. or when placing anything else, for the record.
no no. it's all chance, and coincidence. and how the things I know are the things you know but that's as far as it seems to go.
but I wish for a second, sipping cider out-the-can. I wish so briefly that I could stagger towards your mouth with the appropriate rhyme and reason and complications that would make you be that one person who does take notice.
dot dot dot.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Saturday. It's sometime past 3am. I know this because my eyes are hurting from having contacts in all day. Sarah is sitting next to me on top of a mountain of stairs, chain smoking with me while I try to ring out some of the days anxieties. Sarah, she reminds me so much of me sometimes that I think it must be impossible for us both to exist at the same time. but somehow we do.
I've had too much drink. I've forgotten what this is like. I've forgotten how much I hate it.
people keep passing by, stumbling here and there. talking to each other, to themselves. Everyone seems in good spirits. Apparently they haven't been given the memo on the fact that I'm in a bad mood, and they shouldn't be enjoying anything while I'm being pissy. why doesn't the world work this way?
I can't fully remember why I'm in a bad mood. other than the drinking. maybe it's because I feel like a dick. or I acted like a dick. or both. Maybe I'm just tired. or questioning too many things at once. regardless, I'm just annoyed.
I've had too much drink. I've forgotten what this is like. I've forgotten how much I hate it.
people keep passing by, stumbling here and there. talking to each other, to themselves. Everyone seems in good spirits. Apparently they haven't been given the memo on the fact that I'm in a bad mood, and they shouldn't be enjoying anything while I'm being pissy. why doesn't the world work this way?
I can't fully remember why I'm in a bad mood. other than the drinking. maybe it's because I feel like a dick. or I acted like a dick. or both. Maybe I'm just tired. or questioning too many things at once. regardless, I'm just annoyed.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Where do I begin?
the simplest way would be at the beginning right? but I don't know where one place ends and the other begins. because it's all an amalgamated mesh of tiny little memories fixating themselves and projecting themselves and perfecting themselves in my cerebrum. I can't compete with memories anymore. nor can I compete with myself much anymore. so I guess this is the begining.
the simplest way would be at the beginning right? but I don't know where one place ends and the other begins. because it's all an amalgamated mesh of tiny little memories fixating themselves and projecting themselves and perfecting themselves in my cerebrum. I can't compete with memories anymore. nor can I compete with myself much anymore. so I guess this is the begining.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
I’m often caught in this circular mind frame that has me going around and around in circles wondering which direction is inevitably the correct direction.
I like analogies. I like taking real world simple things and comparing them to the way I feel, or the way I see things. Sort of an anthropomorphism of comparison… if that’s even possible – I’m unsure.
But I feel trapped in a traffic circle. I have momentum to continue on, I have persuasive direction of a forward movement, but I’m in constantly going ahead and back to and from the same position.
For the longest time the actual definition of insanity was that of attempting the same things over and over again while expecting different results. And I wonder now if that classification could so easily be used, then how easily it could now be misused. I’m not insane. Not clinically I’m sure. My quips and querps and all the Q words that come to mind do tend to make me a bit neurotic of course. And on more than one occasion I’ve been told by the so call professionals that my habits are boarding on those of someone with OCD. Though I can’t give an professional opinion or insight into my own abilities or disabilities without spending far far too much time analyzing shit that just doesn’t need to be analyzed I can respect the very bitty little center of truth that all of those things materializes, and that’s of having an answer.
Where are we going. Where am I going. Why am I here. Is there a god. Is there justice. Honestly. Humanity. Anything, anymore.
Pose big questions, expect shit answers.
There are generally two lines of thinking in regards to the big life questions, I’ve found.
Those who want to genuinely believe that their purpose on the planet is for more than what they feel they are accomplishing and therefore continue to move in a forward motion all their own in order to feel as though they are taking the correct steps towards some pre determined place of accomplishment or greatness, or destiny.
And those who ignore all excerpts of chance. Base all things life on other things outside of themselves, relinquishing control to a higher power, an unseen force, as they react as the pawn (I mean that term endearingly not derogatorily) or rather lay their lives in the hands of faith to drive them towards their desintiation.
Let’s say I’m a ford focus. I’m a practicle car, that is good on gas and easy to maintain. I function very efficiently with very little effort from any outside source. The gas – or drive to propel myself forward – is relatively easy to come by. Supply and demand make it impossible to go a few kilometers without having a refueling station. My needs are basically met. Should I have a breakdown, there are people outside of my knowledge base that have taken their own path and molded it around the knowledge on how to fix things that may go wrong with me. Mechanics or psychiatrists. All with fundamentally the same goal in mind (ie fix the problem) but many with differing opinions (alternators vs OCD).
But let’s say I’ve just gotten back from a trip to the mechanic, I’ve had my tune up, my tank is full and I’m ready to hit the road. I now have decisions to make. Do I turn left? Do I turn right? Where AM I going? Forward? Even in reverse, as with cars for this analogy and in life, we rarely find constructive ways of moving backwords. It’s done at minimum. Always.
And to make matters worse for reverse, everything is just that – reversed! Left becomes right. Right becomes left. We have to rely on other perspectives to make it through to a point where we can go forward again. Side mirrors, rear view, back up cameras. All designed to make it easier to get going forward again.
And then once the road is open, a general direction is in mind, here comes a traffic circle. Though by design, the roundabout is quite genius. Used in many metropolitan areas to cease admissions from stop light time, to increase the flow of traffic, to generally make things easier for all those other cars on the road.
But aside from people in the UK I don’t think anyone really knows how to even use one.
So I am signaling in, the inside lane. Decision time is coming at me faster than expected. I need to signal out, I need to choose an exit. People before me clever enough to remember little details write maps, they write directions so I’ll have a pretty good idea of where each exit will take me. They worked hard to preserve their own trips just so I could have things a little easier when I make an attempt to take mine. Gratitude? Is that what I’m supposed to feel? Or slight annoyance that someone was here before me, and has everything already laid out on paper for me to read, it takes all the guess work out of growing up, knowing that I’m Supposed to turn left, I’m supposed to turn right, I’m supposed to merge into oncoming traffic if I want to get to my destination fully intact and in record time.
Yes. Slight annoyance. I want to create my own fucking map. And furthermore, I want to drive right off the side of the curb and take my family sedan sensible car loving ass into the grass. Into the field. Into the places I’m not supposed to go, or I guess sort of even by law, vehicular speaking, not allowed to go.
And why not? Why am I not allowed to drive on the grass? Infrastructure destruction? stepping out of line of the societal norms? Granted, It would look pretty damn stupid of me to be caught in the middle of a field, out of gas, stalled in space. Just as it would look pretty damn stupid of me to quit 36 jobs in 10 years. To move 19 times in just as many. To sell my life and drive. But I’ve done it. That’s me. That’s what I do. And even though this weird sense of structure , this right turn exit, that I’m supposed to love and crave and embrace is staring me in the face, all I really ever wanted to do was drive over the curb.
There is a great quote from a movie somewhere that says “And all of a sudden, even though you have a place where you put all your shit, the idea of home is gone.”
I guess the next big question I’ll have to sit down and ask myself is…well if I’m a ford focus, who the fuck is driving?
Thursday, May 5, 2011
It's become increasingly obvious to me in the past few weeks that I need to regain my creative footing. IE- I need to write more. this blog hasn't been used enough. which is something I am going to change.
This blog will probably serve more to my babble musings and day to day rambling (as can be seen in previous posts) than to much else. but with the current results of the Canadian election I've found myself more and more drawn to it's world and educating myself on it as much as I can. However, I am still me. and if you know me, you know that I try to find the humor, or silver lining, in every situation. Including the election.
Some of you are probably visiting this from facebook, meaning you have probably already read this. But for the sake of my renewed decision to write more and have it reach a wider audience if possible, I am posting it here as well.
This blog will probably serve more to my babble musings and day to day rambling (as can be seen in previous posts) than to much else. but with the current results of the Canadian election I've found myself more and more drawn to it's world and educating myself on it as much as I can. However, I am still me. and if you know me, you know that I try to find the humor, or silver lining, in every situation. Including the election.
Some of you are probably visiting this from facebook, meaning you have probably already read this. But for the sake of my renewed decision to write more and have it reach a wider audience if possible, I am posting it here as well.
Now that the election is complete, I know that myself, as well as millions of other Canadian citizens are asking themselves the same question.
Why CAN’T Canadian politics be as easy as sparkling vampires? (aka twilight)
Today I am here to answer that question.
For the sake of this analysis let me advise the following
The representative for the conservative party, aka Stephen Harper will be now referred to as Jacob Black
The representative for the NDP party, aka Jack Layton will now be referred to as Edward Cullen
The Canadian citizens will be known as Bella Swan
subsequent characters will be as follows;
Bloc rep Gilles Duceppe – James
Green party rep Elizabeth May – Alice Cullen
Liberal Leader Micheal ignatieff – Mike Newton
Unnamed reps for the independent parties – Jessica/Angela
Let’s start at the beginning. Bella (the Canadian people) are feeling a bit shaken up since their whole word recently got turned upside down (news of the election)
Bella has been used to the sunny warm weather of Arizona (minority government) And now has to live out her life in the rain drenched darkness of Forks Washington.
Upon her arrival to this new and unknown land Bella is introduce to a smiling and handsome man named Jacob. It’s brought to our attention that Jacob has been in bella’s life for quite some time, in fact, they used to make mud pies together (awww) and he is now in her life to give her the present of a new vehicle, a symbol of his generosity (5% gst) instantly bella trusts Jacob, trusts that he is a good and caring man. She offers to drive him to school, but he declines. He is not a part of the Forks school division, and prefers to gain his knowledge in a private school that only other members of his community are allowed to go to (the alliance church)
Bella, once at school, has the chance to meet Edward. A brootish handsom man who instantly takes her breath away and enlists a feeling within bella of great acceptance (Civil rights for all!) Her friends Jessica and Angela warn her against Edward, they say things like she should stay away from him, and to not even bother because he believes he is too good for everyone (low brow attempts to smear Layton by the independent parties) Though their first encounter together is a bit rough Bella feels drawn to him despite the peer pressure to ignore his existence.
Bella then is introduced to Mike, a shy and well manned young lad with a pleasant smile and a charm of his own. Instantly Mike is drawn to Bella and vows to himself to make her his ladyfriend. Unbeknownst to Mike, he’s the biggest creeper alive and has zero chance. (do I really need to remind you that he is ignateiff?)
Bella’s new friends decide it’s time to have a social gathering and invite bella, she accepts the offer. Edward is ask to join too, but since no one really cares about Alice, she is left out (the debate and how May wasn’t invited) As bella is starting to enjoy her time being spent with new friends and new ideas, Jacob shows up and fills Bella’s head with historical stories about Edward that make Edward look bad, he continues advising her that he himself comes from wolves and is all big and strong and awesome, and that Edward is a big ole doodie head. (again, as a reminder, the debate.)
Meanwhile Edward is consistent in his inconsistency and makes attempts to befriend Bella, only to say the wrong thing and push her away again. Bella is confused. Then fate steps in and Edward has the chance to save Bella’s life by keeping her out of harm’s way when a van come crashing towards her (see health care reform)
With this new development that Edward is inhumanly fast and life saving, Bella makes the decision to find out the truth about him for herself, objectively. So she sets her sights on new knowledge, she even buys a book that describes Edwards’s type. Its then she realizes that Edward is a VAMPIRE! (A DEMOCRAT!)
Bella goes straight to Edward to confirm her suspicion and he acknowledges that she is right. He is in fact a sparkling pretty boy vampire. But that’s not all. Not only can he zoom around like a nascar driver, he is also capable of attracting humans with his stunning good looks, charming smile and fancy smell (Creating new jobs, caring about the environment, improving accessibility and affordability to child care and post secondary education. )
Plus HELLLOOOO!!!!! HE FUCKING SPARKLES!!
There is no denying it now. Bella has fallen for Edward, she chooses him to be her mate. (NDP NDP NDP!)
Meanwhile, as their romance continues to blossom, Bella is also introduced to Alice. Since she was never invited to take part in the social gathering, Bella isn’t quite sure who she is. A charming bubbly woman who can see the future (if anyone is going to develop a skill for seeing the future, let’s be realistic people, it’s going to be Elizabeth May)
Alice is open minded and fun. She literally bounces from place to place spreading her joy to the masses. And she takes quite the liking to Bella, as Bella does to her. They become instant friends. Though Bella’s devotion still lies with Edward, she can appreciate all that Alice has to offer, and should Edward ever take a stake to the heart, you can damn well bet bella would dyke out with Alice. (I’d pay to see that)
Edward decides he is going to invite bella out with his family, he arranges the time but just then Jacob shows up, a complication. Edward, not fully wishing to start a fight with Jacob leaves Bella to herself while contemplating what to do. (the decision is yours Canada)
And what would anyone do?
PLAY BASEBALL!
Edward and Alice are both playing nice on the same team, and this is when James comes a knocking . James is a pompous man who relays on his coven to keep him alive, and believes with his whole heart that he and his friends are better off without all those other vampires (bloc is pretty pompous. And separatist. I’m making this too easy.) but he and his coven rekon that they should all get along for a little while and play a game of ball, to which they agree (non confidence vote!!)
Though Bella is there at the game in all her glory, she is pushed to the far back of the priority list and told to hide. (Though it’s spun to seem like they all got together to force an election for the good of the Canadian people, it’s mostly about who has the bigger bat….that’s a euphemism for cock for those of you who didn’t get it.)
But backfire! James soon realizes that Bella has sworn her loyalties to Edward. And He is having none of that. James spends a large amount of his next few days tracking Bella down (campaigning, do I really need to keep pointing this out? Do you get it yet?) Bella tries to divert him by leaving Edward briefly to join the ranks of Alice, but soon realizes that if she is going to stop James and his attempts to kill her she will have to do some personal sacrifice to appease James. (Listening to his ramblings about the bloc still being a good idea)
Edward, sensing the urgency and danger Bella is about to face, races to her side, as does Alice, to aide in the destruction of James. And together they succeed! TEAR APART THE BODY AND BURN THE PIECES! (umm hi. The bloc got 4 seats. That’s pretty much death if ever I’ve seen it. And Duceppe (which, for the record, when I say his name out loud I say it like Duce-pee-pee) resigned. ) byee byee BLOC! Err james..yes. James.
In the end Bella chooses Edward (NDP becomes the opposition).
But the story isn’t complete there. Oh no. because Meanwhile, Jacob gets a stupid haircut (is still prime minister), loses all desire to ever wear a shirt (a majority government) and does inappropriate things with Bella’s child (remember that video of Harper singing "imagine" with a small child? That shit isn’t right.)
And he’s STILL a whiny little bitch. (this statement stands true without the comparison brackets)
Ps. Mike realized he was a douche and moved on to someone with limited intelligence. IE the people who ever voted liberal to begin with (buh bye ignateiff!)
Thus concludes my rendition of political similarities between the Canadian election and Twilight.
see? it is as easy as sparkling vampires.
Why CAN’T Canadian politics be as easy as sparkling vampires? (aka twilight)
Today I am here to answer that question.
For the sake of this analysis let me advise the following
The representative for the conservative party, aka Stephen Harper will be now referred to as Jacob Black
The representative for the NDP party, aka Jack Layton will now be referred to as Edward Cullen
The Canadian citizens will be known as Bella Swan
subsequent characters will be as follows;
Bloc rep Gilles Duceppe – James
Green party rep Elizabeth May – Alice Cullen
Liberal Leader Micheal ignatieff – Mike Newton
Unnamed reps for the independent parties – Jessica/Angela
Let’s start at the beginning. Bella (the Canadian people) are feeling a bit shaken up since their whole word recently got turned upside down (news of the election)
Bella has been used to the sunny warm weather of Arizona (minority government) And now has to live out her life in the rain drenched darkness of Forks Washington.
Upon her arrival to this new and unknown land Bella is introduce to a smiling and handsome man named Jacob. It’s brought to our attention that Jacob has been in bella’s life for quite some time, in fact, they used to make mud pies together (awww) and he is now in her life to give her the present of a new vehicle, a symbol of his generosity (5% gst) instantly bella trusts Jacob, trusts that he is a good and caring man. She offers to drive him to school, but he declines. He is not a part of the Forks school division, and prefers to gain his knowledge in a private school that only other members of his community are allowed to go to (the alliance church)
Bella, once at school, has the chance to meet Edward. A brootish handsom man who instantly takes her breath away and enlists a feeling within bella of great acceptance (Civil rights for all!) Her friends Jessica and Angela warn her against Edward, they say things like she should stay away from him, and to not even bother because he believes he is too good for everyone (low brow attempts to smear Layton by the independent parties) Though their first encounter together is a bit rough Bella feels drawn to him despite the peer pressure to ignore his existence.
Bella then is introduced to Mike, a shy and well manned young lad with a pleasant smile and a charm of his own. Instantly Mike is drawn to Bella and vows to himself to make her his ladyfriend. Unbeknownst to Mike, he’s the biggest creeper alive and has zero chance. (do I really need to remind you that he is ignateiff?)
Bella’s new friends decide it’s time to have a social gathering and invite bella, she accepts the offer. Edward is ask to join too, but since no one really cares about Alice, she is left out (the debate and how May wasn’t invited) As bella is starting to enjoy her time being spent with new friends and new ideas, Jacob shows up and fills Bella’s head with historical stories about Edward that make Edward look bad, he continues advising her that he himself comes from wolves and is all big and strong and awesome, and that Edward is a big ole doodie head. (again, as a reminder, the debate.)
Meanwhile Edward is consistent in his inconsistency and makes attempts to befriend Bella, only to say the wrong thing and push her away again. Bella is confused. Then fate steps in and Edward has the chance to save Bella’s life by keeping her out of harm’s way when a van come crashing towards her (see health care reform)
With this new development that Edward is inhumanly fast and life saving, Bella makes the decision to find out the truth about him for herself, objectively. So she sets her sights on new knowledge, she even buys a book that describes Edwards’s type. Its then she realizes that Edward is a VAMPIRE! (A DEMOCRAT!)
Bella goes straight to Edward to confirm her suspicion and he acknowledges that she is right. He is in fact a sparkling pretty boy vampire. But that’s not all. Not only can he zoom around like a nascar driver, he is also capable of attracting humans with his stunning good looks, charming smile and fancy smell (Creating new jobs, caring about the environment, improving accessibility and affordability to child care and post secondary education. )
Plus HELLLOOOO!!!!! HE FUCKING SPARKLES!!
There is no denying it now. Bella has fallen for Edward, she chooses him to be her mate. (NDP NDP NDP!)
Meanwhile, as their romance continues to blossom, Bella is also introduced to Alice. Since she was never invited to take part in the social gathering, Bella isn’t quite sure who she is. A charming bubbly woman who can see the future (if anyone is going to develop a skill for seeing the future, let’s be realistic people, it’s going to be Elizabeth May)
Alice is open minded and fun. She literally bounces from place to place spreading her joy to the masses. And she takes quite the liking to Bella, as Bella does to her. They become instant friends. Though Bella’s devotion still lies with Edward, she can appreciate all that Alice has to offer, and should Edward ever take a stake to the heart, you can damn well bet bella would dyke out with Alice. (I’d pay to see that)
Edward decides he is going to invite bella out with his family, he arranges the time but just then Jacob shows up, a complication. Edward, not fully wishing to start a fight with Jacob leaves Bella to herself while contemplating what to do. (the decision is yours Canada)
And what would anyone do?
PLAY BASEBALL!
Edward and Alice are both playing nice on the same team, and this is when James comes a knocking . James is a pompous man who relays on his coven to keep him alive, and believes with his whole heart that he and his friends are better off without all those other vampires (bloc is pretty pompous. And separatist. I’m making this too easy.) but he and his coven rekon that they should all get along for a little while and play a game of ball, to which they agree (non confidence vote!!)
Though Bella is there at the game in all her glory, she is pushed to the far back of the priority list and told to hide. (Though it’s spun to seem like they all got together to force an election for the good of the Canadian people, it’s mostly about who has the bigger bat….that’s a euphemism for cock for those of you who didn’t get it.)
But backfire! James soon realizes that Bella has sworn her loyalties to Edward. And He is having none of that. James spends a large amount of his next few days tracking Bella down (campaigning, do I really need to keep pointing this out? Do you get it yet?) Bella tries to divert him by leaving Edward briefly to join the ranks of Alice, but soon realizes that if she is going to stop James and his attempts to kill her she will have to do some personal sacrifice to appease James. (Listening to his ramblings about the bloc still being a good idea)
Edward, sensing the urgency and danger Bella is about to face, races to her side, as does Alice, to aide in the destruction of James. And together they succeed! TEAR APART THE BODY AND BURN THE PIECES! (umm hi. The bloc got 4 seats. That’s pretty much death if ever I’ve seen it. And Duceppe (which, for the record, when I say his name out loud I say it like Duce-pee-pee) resigned. ) byee byee BLOC! Err james..yes. James.
In the end Bella chooses Edward (NDP becomes the opposition).
But the story isn’t complete there. Oh no. because Meanwhile, Jacob gets a stupid haircut (is still prime minister), loses all desire to ever wear a shirt (a majority government) and does inappropriate things with Bella’s child (remember that video of Harper singing "imagine" with a small child? That shit isn’t right.)
And he’s STILL a whiny little bitch. (this statement stands true without the comparison brackets)
Ps. Mike realized he was a douche and moved on to someone with limited intelligence. IE the people who ever voted liberal to begin with (buh bye ignateiff!)
Thus concludes my rendition of political similarities between the Canadian election and Twilight.
see? it is as easy as sparkling vampires.
Friday, January 7, 2011
you're sitting somber side
and I'm just inside
the lights are off, my patience is off
and there is a brittle little box
of scar tissues
breathing to life.
poured empty out
rinsed heavy out
these cheap plastic cards
just like you'll never know the extents I went to
for you.
all effort lost or packed away.
you never saw. never came.
unless coming was too little too late
and I'm slightly if not very mesmorized
by the castle building skills you take
and master, these last few days
when you just stayed away
but I get it you know. for gettings sake.
and luckily?
the only thing that I'm better at than falling for
is falling for fake.
and I'm just inside
the lights are off, my patience is off
and there is a brittle little box
of scar tissues
breathing to life.
poured empty out
rinsed heavy out
these cheap plastic cards
just like you'll never know the extents I went to
for you.
all effort lost or packed away.
you never saw. never came.
unless coming was too little too late
and I'm slightly if not very mesmorized
by the castle building skills you take
and master, these last few days
when you just stayed away
but I get it you know. for gettings sake.
and luckily?
the only thing that I'm better at than falling for
is falling for fake.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
where do we file these
these important impossible things. under what category do we find ourselves.
defined by ourselves.
embroidered hearts on sweater arms, show the world or just one set of eyes
and compromise to fit the definition, or so it seems to be.
a challenge taken I suppose I’m taken a back, or a front.
to hazy eyelids closing around dark rooms uninhabitable, but she laughs
I can’t remember if it’s night or day. if the feeling in my stomach will ever go away
undecided I guess, we just become. irrational. rationalize. everything beating off rhythm
a heartbeat, a smile, finger nails trimmed. bored.
take the glass from me. take the glass from me. do something, do something.
ticking. restring. tune, lose. just a game. a toss up. I fear, I think, I fear and frighten. it’s motionless
this daydream. motionless.
until the candle flickers out and my smokes have all run out and she’s still sitting somewhere else.
of someone else s accord
disregard. the rhythm. it’s off.
these important impossible things. under what category do we find ourselves.
defined by ourselves.
embroidered hearts on sweater arms, show the world or just one set of eyes
and compromise to fit the definition, or so it seems to be.
a challenge taken I suppose I’m taken a back, or a front.
to hazy eyelids closing around dark rooms uninhabitable, but she laughs
I can’t remember if it’s night or day. if the feeling in my stomach will ever go away
undecided I guess, we just become. irrational. rationalize. everything beating off rhythm
a heartbeat, a smile, finger nails trimmed. bored.
take the glass from me. take the glass from me. do something, do something.
ticking. restring. tune, lose. just a game. a toss up. I fear, I think, I fear and frighten. it’s motionless
this daydream. motionless.
until the candle flickers out and my smokes have all run out and she’s still sitting somewhere else.
of someone else s accord
disregard. the rhythm. it’s off.
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