Happy Birthday Keats.

Glad to hear ideas are bouncing. Chez-whiz. 

I had some things but they got absorbed back into my throbbing body. 

The government wants to take all my money. 

Edward Hopper, Girl at Sewing Machine

I like the warmth of this picture. Makes me think of early morning, early loving, jobs to do, stay in pjs all day.  My hair is frizzy? Who cares,I'm just going to sew all day and look out the window.

You made this page look slightly classy/emo/grunge.

My feet are still damp from my daily run outside to let the rabbit out and pick various herbs for da morning breakfast. It's funny. The yard is slowly becoming winterized and for the week, spooky. Within the hour, I'll be outside with my grandmother hanging up faux spider webs and later buying pumpkins. I love buying pumpkins and carving them.

Two updates! I'll tell you a bit about what maddy was saying.  Honestly, i knew nothing about the hostel thing. But during a dog walk with her yesterday, she did explain the ideal about it. It sounds cool. But I really don't know how it will happen. I think she is going to try and go back to the land we were talking about for that potential community garden that we initially started the discussion with.  I brought up that I had similar thoughts about the potential. Because we do live in such a tourist heavy region in the summer months (young people could just stop on the way up island) and the place could be a big side of relief in the winter, where we could really provide super affordable single bedding for.. the homeless/bedless.  We could be blessing a the nights where it actually snow! or the rains are too hard. So we joked that maybe I could start a sister hostel here in parksville. I don't know how I'd do it, but I really like the ideal of providing I guess a telephone that people could use, hot showers, some hot coffee/tea/toast along with their bed with clean linens to that. Just a place of relief. I really don't know if Parksville already provides something similar to that. I know the salvation army provides emergency beds in case of horrible weather. But I also know it's hard to find people who manage that system. Finding people who can stay all night and "look after" who is staying there.

That being said, I've been thinking about another plot that has been vacant for years and could easily be turned into a green space. I just need to figure out who owns it and then... I don't know from there. Figure out grants, figure out people who could help me build it from the ground up. I know my family would be really into it. I keep meaning going to the city, or knocking on doors to figure it out, but I feel really out of place doing so.  But I want to do it, and I think I will. Maybe even this week. Who knows. Then I could go from there.

I've also volunteered to help Maddy with looking up grants and filling out grants for this green program starting up at KSS. It's grass roots right now, and they're looking for anyone/everyone to help. I don't really know what I could offer, but I really want to know the grant process and actually know how to use it as an advantage.

That's it though.
Oh and Rachel Anthony might be throwing a "frenchie" dinner at christmas. I saw her friday night while Forrest/Carm/Jasmine/ and I were enjoying hot chocolate to waste time. Rachel is now working as a waitress at lefties and she's just as beautiful and loving as ever. I got three hugs from the girl. I get hugs everytime I see her.  Awwww yeahh.

Can't wait to see you guys and happy halloween!

this morning the snail shell on my window sill had moved 5mm.

Laura, you were over here about an hour ago picking up your widely dispensed clothing and bottles of such and shit. Anyway. I feel like your new man has this secret silent lingo that you just absorb through wherever you may be placing your hands. It kind of weirds me out.
Just because. I thought he would be the usual wiry if enthusiastic boy. Turns out you weren't kidding when you said he hits people for a living. And flies around in helicopters and drinks Jaeger straight from the bottle.

So last night while playing Pictionary with some new friends and old ones too, my brother's friend Michael kept telling me how different I am from my boy-half. And Tyson pipe's up that it's because I'm "badass." Which more or less led to a few minutes today of time wasted searching the definition of "badass" on urban dictionary (too much?)- to make the circle full here Laura, I think this man you keep bringing around fits the definition that the time-wasters of the world came up with more than I ever really could.
Not really sure what the point of this ramble is. Maybe its just that I'm bad at saying what I mean, even when the time is right. Maybe it's that I don't really know any boy who's ass I couldn't kick if it came to it.

Sabo ran into another mutual boy-friend on her way home a few minutes ago. Equally scrawny, same values of passion over success as every other person I know these days. Just got dumped by his significantly younger girlfriend. Sarah gave him some chips. Lucky for the rest of the world, he will probably write a great song about this.

stab in the dark.

 so tired i am so shaking. 

so tired that riding the bus home with Z we cackled at top volume about how she should just write her research paper about the identity of Batman. Since everyone's so concerned with identity. How she would spend the first 3098 words leading up to the final two: BRUCE WAYNE.
At this point in my sanity I cannot even consider something worthwhile if it is not tongue in cheek. Luckily I already think everything is hilarious.

Anyway about last night. Made another friend named Sarah. She was dressed as the Guggenheim museum and yelling about Marx outside the front doors. Somebody said her costume was too obscure and I punched him in the face, verbally. Art parties continue to be ridiculous, in case you were wondering. Saw the Virgin Mary with a glowing heart, saw a man in a suit wearing a zebra head, saw Jesus Christ, saw a Lichtenstein, I think I glimpsed Frida in the beer queue. Saw three people in identical platinum wigs singing out of tune and limply clapping their hands. I knew them, they walked me home at three in the morning. Somehow the walk took a lifetime and we spent half of that life talking about Malevich. Why is it that the only times people really want to talk about art is when they are outrageously intoxicated? Except for you Laura. You know how to push my white-on-white buttons.

Success: Remembering the name of the architect who built the World Trade Center
Failure: forgetting that Islam came after Rome. DUH

cold cold cold

Having cravings for brussel sprouts and beef, previously my two least favourites. I think it has something to do with Maddy coming around with her gung-ho family farm ethics. That woman may just change the world. I've been feeling extra-introverted lately. Or something. Anyway I've been hiding in the furthest corners of the  library, where they have forgotten to put seats.
Still obsessively taking pictures. Still waiting for inspiration to knock be down with regards to this research paper thing. Still wondering where these bruises came from. (subtle)

Broke Trust in Two- Now No-Ones Looking Out For You

Somewhere I got addicted to mashups.  Probably angry enough for how I feel about this material I'm supposed to be writing. I mean, how does he think anyone will care about how the sensibilities of the architectural firm changed after 1965?

I think I'm going to be the Log Lady for Halloni. Nice news, there could potentially be like five separate Halloween celebrations this year if people were to play the cards right (is that an ancient reference to tarot?)
Halloni is the pretentious art-side of Halloween, in which all the visual arts kids show off how much more creative they are than everyone else, the art historian snicker amongst themselves in the corner, the theatre kids get wildly drunk and pontificate and the music kids show up for ten minutes then go home to rest their voices/ bow fingers.
Last night I held the door to the humanities building for a man with multiple boxes and a bag with arrow tails sticking out. Today there were reports of poaching in the neighbourhood, by crossbow. Seems almost too ironic, but the arrows described were not the same as the ones sticking out of this boyos bag.

I think I am obsessed with developing photos. Going to take several day break from the darkroom to collect myself. Since I don't own a camera anyway. This is temporary Ritchie.