Hefty, Hefty Guns

hey gal pal. I have been very promiscuous lately. As in three different beds in three different nights. And I keep meeting people (mostly boys) with interesting names. Sam, Malcolm, Jaeger, (like the drink- he was Russian with a German name, and a former gymnast) Aria (pronounced Are-ya) and Desmond. Plus this piercing guy who claims to have done something like 23000 piercings in his 20 (?) years of experience. He says he has pierced more people than anyone else on the island. He also had his level two reiki, which is cool. And no i did not get anything pierced. I went with a friend who wanted to get his ears pierced, which is cool I guess.

I've been doing this thing where I try to have a conversation with a complete stranger at least once a day. It is surprising the people you meet and the things you learn. Some old man at a coffee shop was explaining to us the history of Dobermans and how we should all become RNs. These engineers at the same coffee shop telling us that one didn;t go to school to be a RN, one went to school to learn about things they thought were interesting. What a wise, wise man.

Anyways, I'm going home for thanksgiving in... 4 hours! but I have to drag my suitcase around town for a bit first. If I have hefty guns the next time I see you don't be surprised.

Thought this was cool, embroidered it today. Now i am just waiting for the ukrainian feast.

can't stand to stand, can't stand to sit

HI Mortimer

It's late, i just took some medicine to deal with this snotty nose and goopy shit flowing out of it and i'm sitting here wanting to copy you. I want to write in the blog tonight too. Lately i've been sick, i've been lame feeling, uninspiredun, and sketching dole 100% pure orange juice cans for fun.

I've been on omegle some lately, i've been reading cbc news some lately, and i've been sharing youtube videos with you some lately (as you know).

Deaths has sprung upon me! And here i am talking to smoking-Argentinian men who graffiti s (too cool for school right? Other then the smoking part...)
Death has sprung upon me! And here i am talking to a polish man, named Pawel, who has a secret romance with a girl he won't tell me about. How lame right?
Death has sprung upon me! And here, i am here. With a cat named baby on my lap, writing this. I feel i should be doing something useful. Like painting that fence in my ?front yard? a cool image and then taking a picture for to judge it. I don't think i should ever do that, but if i would ever... I hope you would be impressed.

I am leaving you with a picture that reminds me slightly of another picture i put in my secret-journal while i was in montreal, waking up, and drinking tea at 7am.
Enjoy.

I Don't Like Their Haircuts. At All

Okay fine I will write something. it's almost October and for some reason I want to press shift everytime I hit the period button> it looks like I can't finalize any sentence ever.
But anyway> I am taking this writing class called "a writers world in books and film" where we basically learn about a certain writer for three hours and then watch a movie based on them or something they wrote. So we just did Virginia Woolf and next week we are watching the Hours. Everytime I come out of there I feel like I should be writing epic poetry (or in this case feminist non-fiction) and/or drowning myself in a river with stones in my pockets. I found the Bell Jar (after about 20minutes of wandering the stacks, too proud to use a computer to search up the code... too dumb to figure out the crazy system the library has of shelving) And the pages are marred by all these notes of pseudo-intellectuals who are reading waaaay too much in to half the things she says, if you ask me.
Anyway today was probably one of the most embarrasing times of the year. I walked around for like 1/2 hour with a LOT of blood on the back of my pants. Nobody told me either. I was just 'that chick' with bloodstains in unlikely places for no apparent reason, because Believe Me, I was wearing stuff down there. Lets not talk about it.

Hey, Hows it going? I just realized alot of people in my life have lovers named Sarah. Today i am been sick all da time, on da couch, watching them crime shows. Turns out also hp disabled the commanding post thingy on my thing. Thanks!

I'm feeling good though right now.
How are you?

Chez> call me if you want to talk. I will send you my phone number via less public means. Cake will turn up somewhere, I think. maybe she just got lost? maybe some hippy picked her up but will see the signs and return her like the wind?

I think I felt some version of your sick this week... too much running around, trying to see everyone and screwing around with classes. and now Sabo didn't come home from that party last night and she STILL isn't here, twelve hours later. I'm going to call her soon just to make sure she isn't dead. We were supposed to bike to this lake today but I doubt that will happen. I'm just Worried about everyone I know. I hope she didn't do anything stupid.

Love you lots. See you soon

Cake is lost, and i feel sick and sad thinking about it.

Mortimer. I feel ultra lost. I don't think most others read this, maybe the odd random, but hey, it;s a more interesting format then a facebook email.

I am feeling like shit. It's bad enough i was freaking out about the victoria move and whatnot. But to add it it now, it;s like the titanic of all things right now, Cake is lost.

So lost, she hasnt came home for four days. Thats forever.
I've made posters with my mom today, and my dad and i have been putting them up most places. More to come.

I feel forever sick, and i am already sick! Shit sleeps. THE WORKS.
It;s like my heart is breaking, it';s like the finding the french man situation, and you know how i told about that, i felt sick? It's like, but 5 times worst.
I think im going to bury my head in a hole between looking for her, and just wait for a angel to call and say " found your cat i think... she;s cover in dirt though."

All the windows are open and I can hear the rain. I went to my lit class today and we discussed Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton and the other confessional poets for a couple hours (literally). I think I need to read the Bell Jar. My prof is so good at telling stories, being a writer himself, that I could have sat there for a few more. He was telling us about Alan Ginsberg, who made a point of trying every drug on the face of the planet and then writing poetry about it. He told us about how it is interesting to force yourself to write things at 3am and then read over them the next day.

And so it is not at all fitting that I am going to Walmart/Best Buy/ Futurshop mega-complex with Laura this evening to CONSUME (mwahahahahaha)

My mom swung by this afternoon and dropped off a bag of random stuff from home and in it was a card from this ancient lady I worked with this summer. She gave me 20 dollars too! I think I basically have to go back to that job because of the people. It's going to be hard to find such kind and laid-back people in this city. Young people suck.

Just found gum in Sarah's laundry basket- score!