Knitting Ferocious Spiders

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 th...

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 ba...

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.” Nothing. 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?” Scrutinized. “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.

Seems like every blogger I read or know has stalled. Including myself. I'm pulling it together. Promise.

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) cool 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) yep Stop talking, I've run out of aspirin. says:...

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

"What about serial rapists? What should be done about them?" "Oh! I've got that one all tied up." "What's the solution?" "We're talking serial rapists, right?" "Right." "Surgically remove their opposable thumbs." "..." "It would work. You could even let them roam free afterwards." "That's brilliant. Horrifying, but brilliant." "And picture them trying to open a door with a knob."