in montreal...

-nobody is fat (except tourists)
-everyone is well-dressed (except tourists)
-everyone speaks english (so convenient)
-nobody uses an ipod (i assume because there's so much cool to experience)
-there are hardly any painted crosswalks (why do we need lines?)
-rock shows begin at like 8 o'clock (such a good idea)
-nothing opens early (see next entry)
-i couldn't find anywhere close to downtown to eat a good breakfast (i ate clifbars)
-i was offered coffee, a massage and a private dance (heh)
-apparently nobody drinks water with whisky (hmm...)

boyfriend utterings of old finally make sense

finally i understand why boyfriends used to say the following seemingly hurtful statements: i don't want to talk about this anymore. can you please be quiet for just a minute? i've had a long day. what are you talking about? i have no idea what you're talking about. no, i don't want to plan our time together this week. let's just see what happens. i have crossed over to the other side. i am the one who doesn't want to talk about it anymore, or hear senseless ramblings. just shut up and kiss me. or fuck off and go home. or maybe i should go home. and leave you to be by yourself to pine away for me forever. man! g_d! gawd! demig_d! SHUT UP!

frequently wondered questions

the moment you've all been waiting for: ask me a question and i'll answer it!

the internet

Results 1 - 10 of about 31,700 for "i hate the internet".
Results 1 - 10 of about 234,000 for "i love the internet"

it was about ten years ago that i first went on the internet at school with my then-boyfriend, nick. i think we probably searched "metallica" when given the opportunity to look for anything. what did you search for?

the wicker man

i have a renewed crush on "the wicker man." it's an excellent film which i've seen only twice, but will surely watch many more times. i'm very concerned, however, about the rehash slated to be released on september first. originally, when i realized there was going to be a remake, i was really interested, so i rented the original again. it was so fucking choice, man. not only could this film not have been done better, but this remake, as i deduce from reading the wikipedia entry and watching the trailer, will completely repaint this entire story and muddy the entire idea.

to begin, the new film replaces christopher lee's incredible character, lord summeraisle, with a female role. this is just completely unnecessary and a too-obvious move to make it modern and borderless. blech-- especially since gender/sex was important to the belief system of this town. also, the trailer suggests that this film is trying to reach for the teen horror audience which demands blood and gore fancy tricks and quick edits. none of this was present or necessary in the original to make it frightening or worth watching. the suspense and creepiness in the 1973 version was inherent in its plot's setup, the setting in general and the tone of its characters. no intense horrror or graphic images were necessary. there was no specific tone of evil or fright-- much was left open to interpretation. i guess the new director realizes that most moviegoers need their movies to be interpreted for them. i shudder to think how awful the soundtrack to the new film will be. that of the original helped make the film. some even call it a musical, as the music was more in the foreground than not, and there a couple of blatant musicalesque scenes. and i abhor musicals.
i believe all the heart and the art will be lost in the remake, as is often the case. but this somehow makes me much sadder than the average remake. the original was made to be a horror film, but of a different ilk. altho i am no movie expert, i don't think there's another film that touches this one-- and i'm especially pointing my finger (and wagging it!) at the never-shoulda-been remake. you money-grubbing whores-- i wish you'd've kept your dirty american paws offa this one. i mean fuck- the original was filmed and set in scotland and this one is set in the US--ugh-- how unromantic-- and filmed in canada. nice way to ruin the mood, asshats!

as a stand alone film, as in had the original not been produced at all, this film could potentially be okay. i would never suggest anyone see it without first seeing the original--or hell, go see it and then watch the original if you wish-- i have confidence you will decide that the original far fucking surpasses this tripe. i'm an anti-fan of nicholas-my-uncle-francis-made-me-an-actor-cage. the new film would tempt me to see it just to see... well... just to see him suffer in many parts of the film. all in all, i haven't decided if i will boycott this new cinematic monstrosity, or if i'll see it just so i'll know how awful it is/ have something to be pissed about for a few hours. but i know i won't be paying to see it with my hard-earned scrill. and neither should you. you should, however (those in my city), gather four non-perishable food items (food drive ends sept 16th) and rent it at video difference. or somewhere else. just see it. there's lots of tits, great costumes, pretty scenery, pagan rituals, great songs, christopher lee, and best of all... sheer unfettered creepiness.

what's the world coming to?

this is something my parents used to say whilst shaking their heads when something unbelievable happened. i caught myself wondering it lately, because of a series of incidents:

1) scientists are developing a sticker which shows the consumer when a piece of fruit is ripe. just how lazy and ill-informed can people be?

2) 30% of canadians don't know they have HIV. this is staggering. stephen harper didn't attend the international AIDS conference in toronto (not as if it were in fucking zambia or something-- still, no excuse).

3) there are more obese people in the world than hungry people. this is downright appalling. i mean-- it's absolutely atrocious that there is more than enough food on earth, people are starving and we in the west are emotional eating away our healthcare scrill. i hate everything.

autumnal urges

bring on the effin'fall!

joyeux bloggeux a moi

wow. happy bloggin' birthday to this slutty biotch. she's two as fuck.

summer 2004 was a complete clusterfuck, but you can look if you want to. i was actively blogging, for what that's worth.

today last year i sold my crowbars for the first time and helped g move out of yukon st. for good. wow. i need a moment to reflect.

two reasons to leave halifax (if but for a day)

1) i am always wet (and not just in my netherregions). fuck, could the humidity level BE any higher?

2) there are no places where i can be dry where i'm not apt to spend money or freeze my cakehole.

3) even my dry towels are wet.

4) i can't count.

fuck.

two reasons to stay in halifax

(brought to you by the events of friday, july 28th, 2006)

1) (on my street) i saw a fellow riding a bicycle with another standing on a platform to the side. he was playing a cowbell.

2) there were fireworks on the commons at 2 a.m.

venus envy + wizard of oz= wizard of lesbians

reflections + metro transit= gay love

santa was the ass end of this parade

what's wrong with your fucking feet?

a couple of days ago on the waterfront, i happened upon two people using gas-powered scooters to travel across the boardwalk. neither of these folks had an inability to walk. they were standing straight up. in a world where obesity is a serious epidemic, there are wars over oil, and the last thing we need is another gas-powered vehicle to destroy our already skullfucked earth, why the serious christ would anyone want to ride a vehicle where they have to stand up, and get manage to get around slower than the average pedestrian whilst polluting the fucking earth? i don't throw around the term terribly often, but you people (and there were two of you, one working for the waterfront visitor information centre and another genius fellow) are fucking losers. especially the wvic (and by extension, nova scotia tourism), you fucking lose hard. you are thoughtless, moneygrubbing imps and i abhor you. you made taking a stroll on the waterfront during peak tourist season an even more vomit-provoking experience than i thought possible, and that is an "accomplishment" i didn't think possible.

come a little closer

a day where this seems appropriate. a day of thinking of actively doing and not just thinking of it, and by it, i must mean something. an important friend who constantly inspires the kind of self-questioning that allows me to wash my hair and get outta here each morning (or afternoon....), is leaving soon. i try to ignore it, but it's happening. everything about the situation makes me at the same time fearfully naseous and gleeful/hopeful. dry mouth. the inspired but the paralysed. the piece of me who has just listened to an hour of honest pleaing and venting. the piece of me that lies muffled under a pile of dirty black summer shirts. and the piece that actually wants change, but is drowning in its own blood. if glen allen anzalone was not glenn danzig, i ?wonder? what i'd be doing right now-- and always, when things are all afuck.

the sounds of children playing and sure, brutal death

one can gauge my mood by noticing how easily i tolerate the sounds of children playing.

on a great day, i marvel at the supreme specialness that children can exist at all and be able just to play, with all the g_dawful things happening in the world. pure innocence. bliss. i welcome and smile at it.

on a good day, i hardly notice, and my mood is unchanged-- if not slightly fortified by it as i pass.

on an off day, their terrible shrieks annoy me. i wonder how their shrill squawking, disgusting blubbering and fruitlesss hollering doesn't drive the playground supervisor to throttle them each with their own respective lunchpails.

when i'm feeling next to nowhere: melancholy, angry, nihilistic, i resent their existence. i question how their parents could've not strangled them with their own umbilical cords and stuffed them under the matresses they were conceived upon. i want to drown them in a mixture their mother's menstrual blood, the lifeblood of their ancestors' and my vomit, with a large concentration of spit and bile. their existence is the most revolting and excrutiating riddle. i'd rather not solve it, and end the crude nonsense forever. save the world from their mangy hands, mucousy noses and most of all their torturously diseased screeching... but then the assclown landlord next door deems necessary to use his whipper-snipper-- the second greatest aural monitor of my mood... when that piece of never-shoulda-been-invented tripe beast begins to "work" away, and the children are freaking out in disharmony, i am at a serious brink. i generally have to leave the house, blast norwegian black metal or go to sleep, with earplugs and a hot toddy. this ear-raping duo is the finish line of the race to end my tolerance.

this utter repulsiveness and complete frothing anger doesn't translate into the intense abhorrence of the precious mewing of tolerable, powdery smelling newborns or the brilliant, well-behaved run-off you sometimes see. just the ones that should rightfully drowned at birth, or rather their parents should have been. poor deadened souls. no hope.

anyway, today i am in a good mood with a 40% chance of greatness. this is how i noticed the usual disgustitude was less like torture and more like a robin's first song (ugh). i check my forehead, grab my metalstick-- just to be sure-- and head out, into a world that could turn it all around in 30 seconds.

ready to transport: one to the enterprise

only the crew of starship enterprise inspire me to have any faith whatsoever in humanity. if i had one wish right now, it would be to join them-- or at least watch season five all day, and not go to work, or have to speak to anyone i don't know.

whodunnit?

who built the pyramids?

sodomize his corpse!

on the edge of the commons. yes.

a speck of something

i just posted a draft from march.
today last year, i ate cereal with my brother.
today this year, the sky is pissing the ocean down, and i'm hungry for a rich treat that i won't taste.