Tuesday, April 04, 2006

If I Have Run Out Of Weapons

to shake at the page,
the blank world,

it is not because I am empty. My
hands are always full of something,
but when the hammers and
pins are lost

numb fingers can still be very clever.

I have been at the buckles today,
the straight jackets done up, white
like empty worlds; and I have been
knitting ferocious spiders
to spin their webs across the ceiling.

I have tickled the belly of the
three headed dog, and now
I'm working at picking out
this knot:

a tangle of failures
as smooth as oiled secrets,
as tight as a garotte around the
throat of an angel, balanced on
the head of a pin;

there are other dangers
just as sudden
that can spring from my
curious fingers;

and while I am working at undoing this
potential for savage reunion with the world,
which is as empty as it was in the beginning,

puzzle this:

my dreams were never violent,
but they promised
that all things will come.

Monday, April 03, 2006

Thank You For Paying Attention

Knitting Ferocious Spiders has wound a nice ball.

It's been a diary of confusion and mistakes, assertions and affirmations, but now, it's time to tie it up, and leave it as it is.

There's a certain symmetry to a year. This was never the intention: I was set to fire it off under this format for quite some time, but it's been a little more than 12 months of massive change: a lot of learning, and tangles tugged out as best I could muster. I have a better idea now of what I want, and of how I see my life progressing, in the near future. Even more, I've learned about the world of blog, and what kind of a form I would like to pursue in its arena.

This direction has become a little too undirected.

The Spider, however, will keep spinning.

Check back for the new link. My next attempt at a quotidian project should be a little more so than this one, I should think.

Sunday, April 02, 2006

A Lesson Every Day

For the past several weeks at the present restaurant job in Auckland (present only because I hope that in the near future it will be the stuff of anecdotes and legend) I have been making a grievous error. I have been making Lemon-Lime and Bitters the wrong way.

Apparently, in New Zealand, as well as in other British and colonial locals, Lemonade is more what I might call "Sprite", or (if under duress) "7-Up"; so the "Lemon" in "Lemon-Lime and Bitters" stands for aforesaid fizzy drink, not lemon cordial, as I have been using, and soda water is evidently not an acceptable surrogate bubble-maker.

I learned this after the woman who pointed out my error almost twisted the ears off my head for the inaccuracy.

God I've missed waiting on tables.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

How Expected

Nothing has really topped Morrissey's How Soon Is Now as the epic anthem of solitude in a crowd; and my iPod conspiratorially conjured it as I lie here in the early afternoon, the Sunday following, just as I'm in the midst of that song's sentiment. A little melancholyncholy, perhaps feeling the first strains of homesickness.

I'm not willing to accept those heart strings being played. Let's blame the booze.

Booze, darling?

My first boyfriend, Adam, the first man, the first naked stretch of learning (not on a curve, but flat out), came to visit me during the summer I was on the farm. I was out of the city because I couldn't afford to stay while school wasn't in session, and he had gone back to his family in Montreal. Out of the blue, he announced over the phone that he was coming. His visit was disastrous. Over those few days I think we both started to realize that we had bitten off more than we could chew, respectively; but I was elated when he drove up the lane in the minivan. (Yes, I did say minivan.) When he stepped out, we kissed... and the first thing that he said to me was, "I think nostalgia is a subtle form of depression."

Which was the best explanation I could have had for his visit, but it was also probably the most useful thing I took away from the six months that we tried to make a go of being together. It remains one of the most insightful things anyone has ever said to me.

And when I think of him I prefer to think of that bequest, rather than the fact that the lad refused to let me ravish him in the daylight. Or nightlight. No light at all, in fact.

He's the one I determined was sleeping with his therapist. Yep. First boyfriend. Yay me.

The nostalgia thing, though, resurfaces intermittently, like fish winnowing the water. I'm not one particularly given to regret, my decisions are (on the whole) made peace with when I make them, and I try (TRY) to let go of those things I cannot change, the ones I have no power over, like the past. (At least not yet. I'm still working on the time machine; and Corba has a theory about bending the speed of light with crystal. Fingers crossed everyone.) But these slow aches wind their current still. As far as I can determine, it's the price of memory; but it doesn't mean I have to like it. Music is probably second only to smell as the manifester of the big ones, the sizmic heaves that purge molten jets, and I haven't had enough time to connect any new strains to this volcanic soil, where I (according to my own expecations) am supposed to flourish.

Every song I know has a habitat in rivers back home. Listening to the iPod is dipping into dysthymia.

Shortly after we arrived in New Zealand we attended the Hero Party; Auckland's answer to Pride. Big venue. Lots of gay. Mustardseed and I went, and danced as we're good at: flirty; coyly; slutty. I can say this defintively: being sandwiched between two panted boners in throbbing base does nothing to ease the sense of aloneness that clublife is so good at highlighting. In lazer light.

I didn't want a romp. I wanted a friend.

I got a phone number instead. Lust is a perennial accessory, and it goes in every direction: chaste and shameless, all at the same time. It, at least, is immediate, has little to do with a relationship to the past when it's a new infatuation. A rise in blood pressure of this nature is suitably crushed on the future; on possiblity and roads untaken.

I'm not there yet. I'm squarely between then and when. Now is taking up all my resources.

I've put away the clock.

Faster Than the Speed of Light?

Contrary to even my own observations, I have been writing blog entries, or at least parts of entries. I just haven't been posting them. I don't know why, exactly. As much as I absolutely adore my laptop, I'm still getting the wonderful machine in order, and only recently installed Microsoft Office, which allows me to explore text in the sublime environment of Word, the frankly intuitive word processor, rather than the mucilaginous purgatory of AppleWorks, what I have been wrestling with up until now. God, I hated that program; and because of that, I had been writing all of my entries directly into the blogger platform, sometimes with dire consequences.

Let's have a moment of silence for all of those sentences lost before they could be read.

Getting my house in order here has been piecemeal, but we're getting to it eventually, my motivations and me. Out of good faith towards the spirit of my intentions, and some sort of temporal integrity, I was going to post the backlog under their proper dates, but then I thought: Time is an illusion anyway. I've traveled to the future; this is the future past.

Too Tired To Stand

At the supermarket, coming home from work (you can buy wine at the grocery. I love the civilized world.) after a ten hour shift, the girl stopped me.

“I need to see ID.”
I looked at her.
“I can’t sell it to you otherwise.”
“I’m 28. Born 1977.”
The glare I got back was not encouraging.
“You look younger than 25.”
“I’ll be 29 next month.”
Luckily, I did, in fact, have my wallet on me.
“I have a photo Health Card.”
“I can’t accept this.”
“An old driver’s licence?”
“This one time,” she finally announced.
After a moment, my chicken and sauvignon blanc going into krinkly plastic bags, it came to me: the retort.
“I’m you’re senior.”

The man behind me laughed.

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

That Block

Seems like every blogger I read or know has stalled. Including myself.

I'm pulling it together. Promise.

Friday, March 10, 2006

Cleaning House

In a vain effort to make up for the characters I have lost between locations and digital outputs, here; relatively unedited, from 11th of Feb, 2006:

Stop talking, I've run out of aspirin. says: Ha! Found an insecure wireless network. Hong Kong rocks!
violet headache says: ah. cool.

Stop talking, I've run out of aspirin says: had the loudest American family of five sitting behind me on the plane. three children. didn't stop noising all 18 hours.

violet headache: what have you seen?

Stop talking, I've run out of aspirin says: it's morning in the city, I'm just waiting at the starbucks for my room to be ready. was lucky to find an free internet signal.

violet headache says: (10:35:06 PM)

violet headache says: (10:35:24 PM)
what's around you?

Stop talking, I've run out of aspirin. says: (10:35:41 PM)
the fashion district. It's going to be hard not to shop.

violet headache says: (10:35:51 PM)

Stop talking, I've run out of aspirin. says: (10:36:03 PM)
Every fucking label in sight. Vivienne Westwood is across the hall.

[changed to:]

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:39:11 PM)
This city is really fucking TALL.

violet headache says: (10:39:24 PM)

violet headache says: (10:39:34 PM)
you haven't been to NY have you?

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:41:13 PM)
Not yet -- I know that it's taller, but this' a neat effect.

violet headache says: (10:41:22 PM)
maybe not

violet headache says: (10:41:41 PM)
the city would seem xtra tall i guess

violet headache says: (10:41:52 PM)
tallest you've seen?

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:41:59 PM)

violet headache says: (10:42:05 PM)

violet headache says: (10:42:12 PM)
it's big though isn't it?

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:42:56 PM)
Hong Kong? Yes. The bus onto the island took an hour, everything is built up quite a bit.

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:43:33 PM)
the airport is beautiful.

violet headache says: (10:43:42 PM)

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:43:55 PM)
and it smells all different outside.

violet headache says: (10:44:17 PM)
like Chinatown?

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:44:46 PM)
no. different plants. different smog.

violet headache says: (10:44:52 PM)

violet headache says: (10:45:13 PM)
light is different too

violet headache says: (10:45:18 PM)
colour new

violet headache says: (10:45:23 PM)
i like that most

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:45:33 PM)
starbucks looks exactly the same though.

violet headache says: (10:45:36 PM)
especially in the plant life

violet headache says: (10:45:39 PM)

violet headache says: (10:48:36 PM)
what are you gonna do today then?

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:49:19 PM)
Wait for Mustardseed and Chikimonkey to show up. I'm just gonna wander until they get here. Get my bearings.

violet headache says: (10:49:32 PM)

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:50:50 PM)
any suggestions?

violet headache says: (10:52:13 PM)
i don't know about anything in hong kong

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:53:44 PM)
you mean to tell me that none of your sexual escapades have taught you anything about this city?

violet headache says: (10:54:51 PM)

violet headache says: (10:55:03 PM)
my cock was in their mouth when they tirade

violet headache says: (10:55:41 PM)
speaking of which

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:55:41 PM)

violet headache says: (10:56:05 PM)
i somehow ended up getting a blowjob in the --- washroom last night

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:56:12 PM)

violet headache says: (10:56:51 PM)
i was bad

violet headache says: (10:56:55 PM)
got a bit drunk

violet headache says: (10:57:12 PM)
my friend steve started hitting on me hard

violet headache says: (10:57:17 PM)
he has a bf

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:57:43 PM)
you're a bad, bad man

violet headache says: (10:57:49 PM)
his bf was kissing p.P. though so i don't know what it's all about

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:57:57 PM)

violet headache says: (10:58:02 PM)

violet headache says: (10:58:22 PM)
not sure whats up with their relationship

violet headache says: (10:58:23 PM)

FOREIGN. says: (10:59:13 PM)
OMG. everywhere I look there are killer clothes.

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (10:59:20 PM)
this is not good.

violet headache says: (11:00:30 PM)

violet headache says: (11:00:38 PM)
told you

violet headache says: (11:00:39 PM)

I'm all, like, FOREIGN now. says: (11:00:49 PM)
anyways, gotta go. good luck in the work department... and in the blow job department as well.

violet headache says: (11:01:05 PM)
i'm gonna ignore it and hope it goes away

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Night Images

Mustardseed and I went for a walk in Hong Kong, late at night, and I discovered what my new phone was capable of:

ey do

green lady


catch the wave



hood 2