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UPDATE:

Leaves In The River by Sea Wolf lyrics say it much better than the whole original post below them did:

I met a girl on halloween
well she was lost and i was drunk
and it was dark and cold out when we left
and as we walked the rain started
the leaves I’ve felt
with every step and all around around us
people slept alone with their dreams

the wind came down from out the planes
and blew the leaves out through the streets
I wondered how far leaves could realy fly
would they rest in several yards
or make it to the city
or would they end up in the river just to float away

she pointed to a small brick house
and said it was where she grew up
the lights were out
she asked if we could stop for a while
her hair was still just getting wet
water running down her neck
collecting in the hand printed cement beneath her feet

apparently there had been a death
someone close had nothing left
because she hadn’t left him in the end

I saw her blush when I asked
if she always talked like that
she said it only happened when she drank
and later on I felt her hand slipping into my cold fist
she promised me a kiss as soon as we got home
her costume had begun to tear
she ran ahead and turned to me
her laughter echoed through the empty streets

__________________________________________________

ORIGINAL POST:

some nihilist, non-sequitur lines from some other time (clearly a time that sucked ass).

i think these lines need rearranging into a different order to make sense. read on and experience the inevitable nausea. (yay for uncontrollable nausea!)
_____________________________

i crossed that street some 3000 times last night,
curb to curb,
a caged, thrashing street rat-tat-tat (it’s not you, it’s me. i’m the cause of my own pain.)
pacing inside the winding, suffocating cuisinart haste-haste-haste

of ghoulish thoughts. of insiduous intent.
hang on tightly…

from star-search to soul-search.

if you knew even half the madness in the maze,
it would curdle your blood, fry your synapses.

nothing can give me what i need and want.
it doesn’t exist.
so i belong to it.
i belong to nothing.

i want nothing. sweet dreamful embrace of nothing.

you are like me, nothing,

belonging to nothing.

belonging to none.

i don’t want to catch mono again,

but here comes another hallowe’en mask
……………….running raw in the rain
perfectly fabulous outfit ruined.

a beautiful blonde dreadlocked drunk
angel appears out of the blue

and gives me an embrace.

another perfect timing ruined.

from nowhere and for nothing.

reading the ‘morning lovers’ coos
uttered right before the revelation
is the most painful thing.

and that ironic-more-ironic message sent

As It Happens

bushed, asleep on a salty pillow, eyes burning, witching hour.

_____________________________

i think this needs to go up on an LJ page or something. with some deviantArt thrown in to match. blech.

like a child overwhelmed
by the incense
flowers and devotion
emotion, wondering about
touching feeling
the marble’s cold gravity
the slabs of flowers
old tattered
new fresh, but dead anyway
narrow paths to negotiate
and understand

barely under stood
bare under ground
bare souls torn apart
love tears
per se and from each other
remembrance
tradition
connection
to a person is
to a place
beloved
must not let the reel run out
must not let the celluloid fade
must not let it fa
must not le
must no
must
a sentimental Polish romance film in a minor key

At 12, I walk
elsewhere now
—ggage in tow
a faint trailing accent
invisible minority
heavy guilt of disconnectedness
something dear now far

I fear I no longer comprise
a part
of the homogenous
40+ million
98% Catholic
99% Polish
memories
a tourist brochure

like a child left to discover
the beauty of non-attachment
her heart never able
to reassemble
to recapture the moment
to attach self to past
irrevocably
redefined

citizen of all nations
member of none

from now until All Saints day is going to be an eternity of madness.  here comes the science.

FRIDAY, 26 OCTOBER 2007
the SkyTrain party:

followed by Dubforms 5 done by the LIGHTA! crew), which is always a rocking all-nighter, with hot people, massive bass, and much dancing. ‘times.

SATURDAY, 27 OCTOBER 2007
Parade of the Lost Souls:

…followed by another all-nighter at Open Studios in the form of Deadbeats666 with world-class techno wizardry of Jeff Milligan AKA Algorithm:

SUNDAY, 28 OCTOBER 2007
sleep all day and all night and pick out outfit for…

MONDAY, 29 OCTOBER 2007
Dead Poet Slam @ Café Deux Soleils

I thought to myself, I know a bit of Prufrock thanks to Lauren, so I’ll get my tweed on and go as T.S. Eliot… until Barbara Adler said she’s going as him, so the quest for uniqueness continues. Erica Jong is not yet deceased, so that can’t work. Then, a flash:

You’d be surprised how many lesbians have never heard of their patron poet or of the adjective “sapphic”. Which is a shocker here, in Little Clitaly.

TUESDAY, 30 OCTOBER 2007
Zombies flash mob at Granville Island, 5pm to 6pm:

Now if i could only figure my way out of my various outfit crises:

This one:
Andrea & I 2

…or this one:
woo-martin-comic

…or…

And which outfit at which party?

Decisions.

Decisions.

yeah, exactly.

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kuba, you gotta do this when flossin’ up and down in your 5-series with the kids in the back:

before the Assignors of Canadian Postal Codes were aware of 1337-speak nuances, this postal code was assigned to the infinite void of Delta, the most musky of Lower Mainland municipalities:

v4g1n4.JPG

(click your mousey mouse on the pic to enlarge.)

with the neatly-trimmed, triangular Boundary Bay Airport butting up against it, and surrounded by such poetic place names as Lulu Island, Tilbury Island, Barber Island, L’Isle De Jambon De L’Ouest (Westham Island), Watershed Park, and Mud Bay, it is essentially just Burns Bog with its ever-smoky, fragrant je ne sais quoi.

curiously, it is also the permanent residence to Johnson Industries, a logging company, among others:

v4g1n4googlesearch.JPG

nothing a little butter and tartar sauce can’t fix:

mmmm, isopods...

via NOAA’s ark, erm, website.

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