All I've ever been is kind

I know you think you’re better than me. And maybe you are. You’re older afterall. You’ve got money. The kind of money that conceals your fat... At least you think it does.

Immediately, my go-to is to insult you're shape. That's so incredibly petty and horrible of me; and I know it. It's so easy and tasteless.

I don't mean it. I don't. And it's because I look up to you.

There is a pain that sometimes fills my chest. It makes my eyes water red tears. The kind that happen in public - that I desperately try to conceal. It makes me sniffle, and cuts my height down about 3 feet - until I feel real small.

Do you want me to feel small?

It’s that kind of pain that’s quick to come, difficult to control. It could happen anywhere, anytime - but most often after someone looks at me the wrong way - says something that makes me feel like I’m stupid, naive... unworthy. The kind of look that says, “Who the fuck are you?”

You don’t even know me...

It strikes when I have no one to turn to, no one to call. I hide in a bathroom stall and wait for the tears to dry. The tears to stop. The tears to go away.

Go away tears. Please just stop and go away. I’m happy. I love this. Don’t let her make you feel this way! Do not let something so small... so silly interrupt this... beauty.

A vine dips into a pond and it ripples. Suddenly the water that once looked smooth, like silk, is distorted. The reflection no longer clean... Now a swirling, rippling - angry - reservoir.

And all I hear is...

Who the fuck are you?

You are... the monster in the closet.

Bring it home

You can't write what you don't know. I don't know anything about being a man or growing up in rural southern Ontario.

Orange lights
Smell of summer
Something scary but lonely
Sneaking a bike across backyards that have no fences to divide them
New neighbourhoods, no big trees
Construction sites
Video stores
Nights in the suburbs
A suburb at night is nothing but empty, lonely space

You're not trusting yourself. Trust yourself. You're doing just fine. There is no time limit. There is nothing telling you to do anything differently from what you are doing right now.

- I


You are...the sound of sneakers on wet gravel after a thunderstorm

There's a seizure taking hold of me

People do the most outrageously stupid things in the quietest way. I'm in that mood where everyone feels invasive. Why are you standing there? What are you doing? GO AWAY.

I hate hating my body. I need something to take me out of scrutinizing it constantly. That job used to be filled by anxiety, but seeing as that led to no good things, I guess I'll need to distract myself by being happy.

People don't connect anymore. I don't know. There are so many assholes in the world. I feel like everyone I know save for a handful is an asshole. Politics ruin people. I'd say we should act like children but some children are assholes too. How do you not become an asshole? I think it's the genuine desire to have fun and to include other people in on that fun. Why can't we all have more fun?

Thoughts running through me: he's picking up stones in his garden and staring at the woods wondering who is throwing them. Scrambled eggs. No more caffeine, though I love the smell of it, it makes me think of a hospital. I kind of like hospitals, they make me think of guilt-free sleep and the playroom down the hall and righteous pre-plated hospital food. I'm fascinated by the arrangement of hospital food, I could stare at a variety of hospital platings all day. I'm not into music right now, it leaves me empty. He pulls a baby from the tree. I want a late-night TV show on some local TV station where it's just me in some ratty old basement talking about why the government is out to get us. Tongue can be so many things. Fuck, what an annoying bitch. I could kill a bacon sandwich right about now.

Yours,

I


If I could do anything, I would...launch lit fireworks at her face.

like children

Hi con

Ba just concern about the side effect of your medecin .Would it make you gain weight recently ? Can you check with the schytherapy..or doctor Pugen .I want to help you to find out the better way to keep fit faster .We may need the specialist .Don't you think so ?Please remember Dad love you and want you feel better even if dad have to spend more money


I used to have these thoughts right before I fell asleep. I'd imagine my brother and my parents starving in the streets, fighting to eat, their pettiness dulled to something pitiful. In those thoughts, I'd see myself as their saviour and I'd see them as children naively holding their meagre belongings up to me in offering in exchange for a piece of bread or a morself of comfort. These thoughts used to upset me. They still do.

It isn't that I think I'm better than them. It's that there is so much they don't understand and I see them floundering and trying again and again to offer what they know which is really so little. I see them looking at what they hold in their hands and I see them throwing gifts at my feet, hoping that things will turn out perfectly and when it doesn't they look so confused. 'Why isn't this enough?' they ask. 'We're giving you everything we have.'

I feel like a bad person. I feel like a bad daughter. They're like children. They want to help so much, but they don't know how to. I feel like a bad person.

- I

If I could be anything to you, I would be...a baby.

Your face is an American Apparel ad (hurl)

It doesn’t matter how hard your body is, how leggy you are, how epic your tits or crisp your tan - if you have an ugly personality, a nose stuck in the air, eyes that roll like a tick, ...or even if you second guess yourself every two-friggin minutes, and yet manage to be unaware of how self-involved you are - then, well, it makes your face ugly...fugly... and that my friend is awfully unfortunate.

This was a negative post. I apologize. My next post will be more my style - more optimistic - less cynical.

xoLo

I’m a face person. Definitely a face person. 

It's the same, old song

I recently entered a contest to win a signed copy of the new novel of one of my favourite up and coming authors for the tweenage crowd. 

The contest was to describe one of your "screw-ups."

I don't have "regrets" per se... but I've definitely screwed up... It's something i did ALOT as a child, in comparison to the now. I guess you could say it's an inevitable learning experience  - the cause of some very significant growing pains. 

Anyways, here is the one screw-up that always seems to scream... (and thus my contest entry)...

A winter evening - blackish skies by six o'clock. Frost over the windows. My lips chapped and dry - my body carrying that extra winter weight. Soft, but kind of awkward.

I had been home from first year University for Christmas holidays and I was just stoked to see my best friends from high school, and a boy I was still crushing on since prom. Friends and fun were pretty much the only things on my mind... that I allowed to be on my mind anyway.

It was around 10 pm when my friend Sarah and I were packing up our skates and sticks to meet the boys at the pond to play a little midnight pond hockey - dressed all puck-bunny and ready to get my flirt on. My mom (who had cancer for the second time)   thought I was nuts going out so late in the cold night to skate around on dangerous thin ice - wet and melting. To her, I thought, she was just for-seeing my runny nose, and my constant complaining about a head-cold, and sore feet

My mom yelled at me to stay home - she wanted to talk. I yelled back. I wasn't going to let her get in the way of any potential I had with seeing Riley again. I was determined to have an amazing Christmas - a holiday to remember.

So I cut her off, and stormed out the door with my skates slung over my shoulder and my coat barely done up.

I arrived home at around 2 to a quiet, dark house. I creeped down the hall toward my bedroom, trying not to cause a stir and wake my parents. Inside my bedroom I found my mother curled up in my bed - she had been complaining earlier that her own bed smelled of my father's cigarette smoke - the stench of Players Light embedded in the sheets which irritated her - choked her. I tried my best not to make a sound as I changed out of my clothes and into my pjs, when I noticed the tear on her cheek. Silent tears in the dark blue glow from the moon, seeping into my room from a crack in the curtain. 

My mother had been crying. I didn't know what to say. I slipped into the bed beside her and put my arm around her. I was hugging a crevice moon. She felt smaller, bonier than I had remembered. Her skin was cold but sweaty - clammy, really. We were silent for a long while and finally she whispered to me, "My baby. I miss my baby." And that's when this feeling overwhelmed me... I wanted that moment to last forever. I didn't want to ever move from that position. I wanted to hold onto her before she was taken away from me. I felt her heartbeat against my hand. I held her. I breathed her. I just knew this moment would end. End. End. End. Fuck the end. 

The next afternoon I found her sitting at her closet. She pulled out an ice-blue dress and blazer she'd worn to my cousin's wedding in the summer. She told me this was the dress she wanted to wear at her funeral. And that was the moment she revealed her days were numbered. She just stopped responding to treatments. She wanted to tell me last night. She wanted to tell me when I was out playing hockey - playing hockey badly and flirting with boys who could give a fuck about my mind - my problems.

She wanted to tell me everything and that she had known since early November but didn't want to tell me then because she didn't want to trouble me while I was away at school. She didn't want me to go to the pond that night because she knew her days were numbered - and here I was spending every holiday night with friends... "friends..."

This is my screw-up. Yeah, I wish I'd been more perceptive, because after that night... it was just a downward spiral toward the end.

lo

Paid, in sweat

Consider which persona you'd select to perform in a given sexual role-play situation, and why.

If gender specific, consider which persona you'd desire for your lover. 

1. Mime or Sailor?

2. Pirate or Soldier?

3. Cop or Bandit?

4. Candy striper or Nun?

5. Catholic school girl or Biker?

6. Dominatrix or Goldie Locks?

7. Lumberjack or Neo?

8. Scientist or Latin lover?

9. Trucker or waitress?

10. Wrestler or cow-girl?

xo

Lo.

If I were time - i'd be travel.