these save me words

word of the day

ingratiate |inˈgrā sh ēˌāt|verb ( ingratiate oneself)bring oneself into favor with someone by flattering or trying to please them : a social climber who had tried to ingratiate herself with the city gentry.

* a.k.a the other intern, and not me.*

"quiet little lady"

"you're a quiet little lady," my landlady said to me just now.

she's more like my roommate i guess. i'm renting a room in her extremely neat condo, with a view of the parliament, and on to her routines...

i guess i have been.

i'd like to blame the cold condo, or the spring weather, or lack of sleep and excess of work and alcohol, but (inhales), i have a cold (exhales).

which is perfect timing since i got a puzzle in Montreal's Contemporary Art Museum on sunday. not just any puzzle, it's Klimt's fregio de beethoven. and now i can sneaze and sniff while putting pieces of this painting, and my head, back together.

no comment

citizens of ott

when it gets busy, in your head and in your purse and on your desktop, you learn a lot about yourself.

who will you ignore? your mom, your ex-boyfriend, your disappointing best-friend?

who will you remember, or more importantly, miss?

and when you're busy, and on the bus in an alien city on unfamiliar routes (and perhaps even on the wrong bus), all that you were used to seem so trivial yet unequivocally a part of you.

you might remember the last time you felt like this ( seven years ago, Newton Brook High School?)

you get the picture. . .

word of the day

newspaper |ˈn(y)oōzˌpāpər|nouna printed publication (usually issued daily or weekly) consisting of folded unstapled sheets and containing news, feature articles, advertisements, and correspondence.• the organization responsible for producing a particular newspaper.• another term for newsprint .

rides

I wanted to tell you that there is nothing like sitting on a window seat on a train to a city you've never been to.

It's not just the romance of it all, but the slow transition between point A to B, as you carefully stride across invisible rails and pass through landscapes that aren't yours to keep. You hold a coffee or wine in your hand, a book or a magazine, and these remain the only signifiers of normality and of your past.

The sun hits me and I'm reminded of all the thoughts I left half-conceived before departure.

And this time around, when I get off the track, I'll be on another one.

can't hear you

success stories:

today i managed to take a good look at the new flower, carefully placed on top of the bath tub in direct sunlight.

i also managed to contain slippery situations with silence and truth-telling.

i also escaped, with some help from music and alcohol, but came back more sober than before.

i still need to do laundry. but that's a whole other story.

wdydw

what do you do when...

after weeks (or months) of procrastination you decide to actually make it to the 6:30 yoga class, but then it gets canceled?

- drink wine with friends

- try again tomorrow

what do you do when...

you feel there's so much to do, and not enough romance, and too much history?

- take a long walk

- and go away.

n

thisisnot apoem

im just figuring out

whatis.

exhibit 1

sup?

i'm getting borred. stop the car.

go easy on me

Ask me what I do and I won’t lie

But I wont tell:

I don’t do

I don’t devour the dying bodies

of old buddies

that seem to forget

to tell

Revenge

Glass goes up, stays, goes down

Lips stain

fingers shake

parallel to laughs after pints and loader sounds next to songs

She writes: “born and raised in an urban city”

She keeps: dreams of farms and

lovers that last

Glass goes up, stays, drops

Pants stain

salty smirks come running

and he calls again

“Can I help you?”

No you cant

Give it for free

or let me pass

It’s so easy to run

So easy to call, and hang up

So easy to cheat, and forget

So easy

So hard when it’s so easy.

exit sign

ACT I

slip

stroke

smile

hold -

ex

hale

in

hale...

sip

stuck

whisper:

"she lands on her feet for the first time

and the audience clapsclapsclaps

while voodoo dolls dancedancedance

with nails on their bodies, secretly, behind the scene"

ACT II

"she takes off her make up and catches on news

gospels and gossips

ghastly ghosts: set designers and ticket holders

tedious hours behind the window

observing the mockery

and beautified pastries

fattening compliments"

ACT II

" 'and this one is ok,' she says,

and caresses

a face

' i think the play is over'"

standing ovation.

DUI

born

2 and 3 and 4

in the meantime

complete

firefighters biting down the cake

this is a happy day for us all

call me tomorrow

i'll

eb flesym

tight ropes

they are killing killing killing. two today, how many tomorrow?

these ruthless dictators (the government) are killing people: people, like your cousin and your lover, and you.

executing those with no crime but being heros, and opposing and criticizing these bloodthirsty, megalomaniac, power-mongering bearded beasts who call themselves "saintly," "just," "god-fearing."

i wish they feared their god. it seems like they only fear the people- a people in revolt.

.

some days when you wake up,

but your bed keeps whispering softly: stay stay stay in my arms,

doesn’t your pinky toe, restless and ready,

beg you to storm out?

. . .

and, contrary to previous-post-related belief, I love my friends. I just don’t love the ones that aren’t.

xoxo

She hangs up the phone, the last, always-the-same words still echoing, "Ok babe. I love you. Miss you...Call you later."

"Who was that?" she asks.

"Augh. That bitch again."

" Umm...which bitch?"

They send kisses and hugs and sit down for coffee asking you a billion little questions. From your waist size to his, from your rent to your rags.

"Oh, and by the way, I got that internship."

"Babe! that's great. What are you wearing tonight?"

Nothing. I'm wearing no labels and no laces and no see-through dresses. Nothing is as see-through as the "I love you's" that are thrown around in a drunken haze.

"By the way! I'm not supposed to say, but, I have to tell you what x and y said about you -"

Nah. Just go play with your powder.

can we buy coffee
and marry the beans?



can we talk over the steam
and carry
in our pockets
chocolate-covered espresso's
for those early days
that never appease
and never end?

can we leave the mugs uncleaned
and watch them stain
permanently
buy new ones instead?

can we, can we, can we please
read my fortune
as I stick my finger
in the remnants of that turkish kind
and slightly taste
the bitter future?

can we have the illusion of decaf
with
fat-free cream,
sugarless sweets,
in an imaginary room
with
windowless windows
and loveless loves-

the dream of awareness

re-resolutions

happy new year:

i'll try to be betterbetterbetter

drink less coffee, alcohol, and poison

walk more talk less

be on time

tell you "i don't fucking like you, don't want to see you" when i have to

tell you "i love you" when i need to

smoke less cigarettes, smoke more ganja

hug more, other things* less

keep promises

not promise anything

oh, and, get my drivers license.