Well, I said I'd be partying early, I'm drinkin' some Jack, getting ready to go out for breakfast.

"I dreamed this." Says the frightened little girl in a crappy movie called "Signs."
I hear ya, little girl. There've been many situations where I've thought those exact words to myself. Apparently, that runs in the family. My grandmother was telling people who was on the other side of a ringing telephone at least 20 years before callminder came out. Probably longer, but I'm lucky that my memory goes that far back. Her mother or grandmother called herself a white-witch. She was some sort of healer.

All this deja vu has been "driving me nuts" lately. It gets really really annoying to recognize so many situations. It also worries me. What if the bad dreams I have start coming true, too? I guess I'll just have to deal with that when it comes.

Ahhh..........
It's awesome to be drinking Oland's again. Sure, I was only gone for just over a week, but all the Coors Light, Molson, and Budweiser was getting gross fast. So I added some stuff from my trip. Scroll down if you wanna read it. I can't wait to see Jenn again, I need to do some girl-talk, and she's good at it.

There's a New Year's Eve party at my place. I don't know what to expect. I usually go with the flow that night. If you don't have plans, why not come over? If you do have plans, you're still welcome to stop by earlier. Even if the place is empty, I'll be partying early. Don't know where I live? edit-Never mind, it's too late anyway.

love and kisses, happy holidays.

Aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhh!!!

I'm home now, and it feels great. As much as I bad-mouthed Christmas, I had really good time. But just the same, I'm excited to do all the things I've missed... I'll sleep in my own bed, I'll get to play music soon, and, unless something changed that I'm unaware of, I'm going to see North of America tonight. Oh yeah, my friend I haven't seen since last New Year's will be in NS for at least 4 months. On the down side, I just took a nasty shit. Not quite the runs, but more like fudge.

I'll be adding entries from when I was away, with the date and time they were written. Later.

I am sitting on a Boeing 737. Out the window to my right, I see a blanket of clouds. I've always enjoyed looking down to see the top of clouds. I'm on the plane with all my belongings except one. I was not permitted to bring my keychain on board. I don't blame them; it's completely a weapon. The guy at security offerred to let me go mail it to myself, but I told him it wasn't worth it.
Thanks anyway.

The keychain was a gift from my mother a few years ago. It was for doing manicures, but I found it very helpful when rolling joints. It looked like a Swiss Army knife. It had a plastic poker, presumably for cleaning under your nails, but I used it to poke stuff down to make room for the filter. It also had a tiny pair of scissors, tweezers, a little knife, and a nail file. Now it's in the garbage.

I love flying. I don't remember how old I was my first time on a plane, but I was only 9 or so the first time I flew by myself. I almost got my pilot's liscense when I was a teenager but instead of following through and sticking with cadets, I got into drugs, booze, and sex. I dropped out of cadets, and sometimes I'm amazed I didn't drop out of school as well.

I've been in big commercial planes, I've been in small commercial planes. I've been in tiny Cessnas. I even went up in a Sea King once. I kept thinking something important would fall off the chopper and we would die. Every time I've seen a Sea King in the sky, I've seen something shiny fall down to the ground.

My favourite experiences with any aircraft were the times in the gliders. They are small "planes" with big, long wings and no engine. There was only room for two people, so the experience is fairly intimate. Our method of launching into the air was to be towed behind a pick-up truck. Once a certain speed is reached, the lift created pulls you off the ground. I absolutely love that feeling JUST AS the Wheels lift off the ground and suddenly you're floating. It's almost orgasmic.

I want to be fucked, hard, on a plane.

"You're off your meds again. He didn't say anything; he didn't have to. Everything's bad when you're off your meds. And everytime you do this, it gives your disease another chance to..."

I didn't hear the rest of what was being said. I got up, put on my boots and jacket, and went over to my local watering-hole. It's funny that I like Lane's so much. It's so much classier (in a sorta wannabe way) than my other favourite bar, the Seahorse.

At Lane's, I pounded back 4 beer and met Bill. A scotch drinkin', Harley lovin' travelling product manager. He's in T something something, which stands for Thermal something something. He sells stuff that is used in paper mills. Bowater is what brought him to Liverpool. Once KC tracked me down at the bar (which didn't take him long) the 3 of us and the bartender, Mitch Mitchell, had some interesting conversations.

Being a scotch lover, Bill was devastated to learn that Johnnie Walker Red is the best scotch the pair of us have tried. We expressed our love for whiskey, to which Bill replied that we were scotch drinkers in the making. He bought KC a glass of Glenlivet (the best they had at Lane's) and me another beer. I'm not sure how full the bottle of Glenlivet was when Bill got there, but by the time he left, the bottle was empty and he'd settled for a few doubles of Glenmorrangay (sp?). He told us of his biker family. They go to many rallies and races and his 9-year-old daughter has her own bike. She's pretty, too. When that girl gets to high school, Bill and his wife will have their hands full. But they know that; they'll do fine.

Leave Walmart.
Wish I could do what's done at this time.
I'm so glad to be out of there.
At least I didn't get trampled.

Ah, Dunbrack Street. I'm getting uncomfortable and anxious with these memories flowing back.

Because of yesterday's storm, the bus down to the South Shore was cancelled. It was for the better; I wasn't ready to go then.

So, with the bus cancelled, the trip is occurring in a car and I just drove down Dunbrack. I was followed down that street by a pervert once, many years ago. I really want a cigarette...

Bayer's Lake Industrial Park. I'm usually only here for Christmas shopping. This place really isn't built for people like me.

Well, it's time for the holiday travelling to begin. Oh joy. So many families to visit, so little time. I still don't even have any gifts for anyone. I'll have to do some shopping in Liverpool tomorrow. That means I need to remember to bring my daddy's address with me so I can mail his stuff. I really really miss my daddy, but he's one person I won't be seeing this Christmas.

I'm all fucked up lately, well, I guess for longer than lately. But I've been having a lot of bad dreams. Some bad, some good but bad.

Anyway, I've realized that having this stupid thing has been helping my mental health a little bit, so I've decided to keep a journal while I'm away, to update when I get back.

I'm so depressed today. I hate this weather. At least some normal parts of the world get snowstorms. But here, we have the pleaseure of having snow/rain/freezing rain/slush/ice/sleet/...It's dark and cold and makes me want to cry. I don't know if I would be welcome at the blog party, but I'll be outta town anyway.

For everyone who enjoys this time of year: eat well, drink much, and be merry.
For everyone like me: bah-fucking-humbug; can't wait to get trashed on the 31st.

"I think you have an identical twin"
uh..
"Yeah, I think Gerry's your exact twin, as a guy"

"You're both attention-craving lunatics." (he meant that in a good way)

"And he's not a bad person."
But some people think he is.

"Just like you're not a bad person."
But some people think I am. (I'm one of those people.)

"Yeah, I really think you guys are related somehow."

I promise I won't do that again.
What exactly did I do wrong?
I know I'm a bitch; but that's self-explanetory,
I am who I am
Do you hate me??

I just got home from getting kicked out of a bar. My first time, and I'm 24. I've lived a sheltered life.

But, I'm sorry. I didn't know I did anything wrong. I've beeen going to this bar for 5 years, and I've been elsewhere. All of a sudden, I had these hands on my shoulders, and it was a bouncer, and he escorted me out.

I am still confused.

I am never going back to the Marquee, unless they pay me.

I found this searching for Holiday Snaps stuff online. I just have to put it here because Horseface wrote it (edit-it's not up anymore). I remember hanging out in Clayton Park with KC and Watt, listening to Elements of an Incomplete Map before it was finished.

I also remember my first time meeting Horseface. The Snaps were playing a show at the Mokka. It was the week of Tall Ships, 2000. I was kitchen supervisor at Pizza Delight on the Waterfront, now Stayner's Wharf. I went in early that morning, 6:00 a.m., to make extra pizza dough. I didn't leave there until 9:00 p.m. We ran out of dough, we ran out of lasagna, and pretty much everything. KC came looking for me, and I went out and had a smoke with him. I also yelled, and swore, and cried. Then I went in, set the timer for the pasta, and told my boss I was leaving, his spaghetti was cooking.

I sat up front at the show, beer hanging between my legs. The music was loud, I fell asleep just the same. I woke up when I felt the beer slip out of my hand and smash on the floor. My first time breaking a bottle at a show.

At the end of the night KC introduced me to Jon.

"Who?"

"Jon Epworth."

I just looked at KC, maybe I said nice to meet you to Jon.

KC leans in, "Horseface."

"Oh, am I supposed to know who that is?"

The Tall Ships are coming back next summer. I'm going to do my best not to work in food service.

Ever try to bury something really deep and just hope it goes away?
It doesn't work. Look at me, giving advice I don't even follow myself, but it's true.

You spend quite a long time beating it down and molding it into a little, manageable ball. You actually think you're making progress, until you try to swallow it. That's where it gets caught in your throat. You keep trying to swallow, but it keeps pushing up. Those deep, dark crevasses of your mind don't want to hold onto it.

Sooner or later, it will come back up, and when it does, it will make a stupendous mess all over the floor that is your life. I'm hoping for later.

My immune system is the best. I don't really understand it, I do the opposite of taking care of myself, but my immune system has been ass-kicking for a few years now. I drink alot, smoke alot, eat crap (alot of processed crap chock-full of the trans-fats), have very poor sleeping habits, don't take vitamins, go out in the cold with wet hair, and all the things that are supposed to make a person sick.

The first time I realized how lucky I was, I lived in a house on Armoury Place with 3 or 4 other people. There were times when the whole houslehold would be practiacally dying, but me, I just got a little sore throat.

In the last few weeks, almost everyone I know was been ill. There's this really nasty cold or flu or something that's going around. My bedmate had it, and I didn't catch it. On Saturday night, my friend Lav asked me if I got sick. I thought he meant from Friday's debauchery, but he explained that everyone he knows has been sick, so he was wondering how I was doing.

"Oh, Cory, I don't get sick."

"Oh yeah, I forgot."

Well, I got it.

Saturday, I felt like crap, but figured it was self-induced from Friday. Sunday, I felt like crap, but figured it was self-induced from Friday and Saturday.

By Monday morning, I realized I had a cold. I sneezed numerous times, all over my Marketing test, and couldn't get my nose to stop running. I saw Mark in the hallway and told him I was sick. When he apologized, I told him it was my own fault for sharing with him. He recommended I get tons of vitamin C, repeating "You don't want this. Stock up on vitamins. You don't want this."

He was right, that one day of Hell I went through yesterday was awful. I laid around, watching TV, and cuddling my kitty cat.

Everyone I know that had this was sick for at least a week. Today, I am almost back to normal.

Maybe, sometime in my past, I picked up some sort of disease that does the opposite of AIDS. Instead of attacking my immune system and killing me, it makes me stronger. Maybe it's because I've never had the flu shot, so my body is used to sticking up for itself. Maybe, I'm a god.

I love livin at the Seahorse

Those words have been going through my head since Friday, to the tune of a song by Fear.

Friday was a long day of booze, painkillers, and cigarettes. Thanks to everyone who came out to adopt-a-drunk. Noone adopted me, though, maybe I wasn't drunk enough. I started the day with a math test. On my way to the classroom, I bumped into a girl I have met a few times, but had to ask her her name for the millionth time. It was her birthday and she wanted me to come to the Mustache with her and some friends for lunch. I told her my story of hitting that car and complained like a baby cuz I had to play through the pain later that night. She gave me some Tylenol 8 hour. It's the strongest she had cuz she's allergic to codeine. That's a shame, because I would have much preferred the codeine ones. Anywho, these Tylenol 8's are supposed to be pretty strong and they're supposed to last 8 hours. I took 2 and we headed out for lunch, where I added a few beer to the mix. From there, we rushed back to my house to... The pain that had never gone away was beginning to come back, so 2 more Tylenol 8's, only 4 hours after the first 2. The birthday girl leaves, and it's time to go down to the jamspot. We don't really practise and needed to warm up before lugging the gear.

But, alas, there's another band using the jamspot. That's ok, we're in no rush. So, up to Charlie's for more beer. After a couple in less than an hour, the other band came up and told us they were done. Slam the rest back, and head into the warehouse. After about 4 songs, I realized just how difficult it would be to play with my banged-up wrist. Holding the neck, moving my fingers, and sliding my hand up and down proved that those Tylenol 8's were lousy, and this is not the kind of pain I like. Oh well, shit happens, the show must go on, yadda yadda yadda.

After a short car ride and some grunting and groaning, we were at the Seahorse with our gear. I enjoy another beer or two before hitting the rye 'n' lime. As the night went on, the show got more fun. The Hold played probably one of their best shows. After the set, I was given a gorgeous blue pill by a beautiful, black-haired girl. Now that pill actually worked. Add to that even more beer, and I was having some good old-fashioned, numb and violent fun. I got in a fight with Gerry. Unfortunately, some people broke it up and I didn't get to kick his ass. I pushed some girls. I slightly feel bad about that, but only because people I care about were mad about it. And then the memory gets sketchy.

Then comes Saturday...I got up in the early afternoon and went to Cafe Vienna. ("kiss me, kiss me, I can't wait until you kiss me." Thanks. I was pleased with how long it's been since I heard Sloan. Now I have to start all over again.) I was pretty hungry, but my stomach didn't really want much, so I drank some juice and coffe and ate as much of my food as I could handle. As the day went on, I discovered some new pains. Makes sense, at least tonight's show will be tamer. Or so I thought. I was exhausted, but I made sure I made it to the Seahorse that night, as well. I had been waiting for this show. I like the bands, and they all include friends or lovers of mine. ("Oh, oh, lover of mine." I loved Alannah Myles when I was a child.) I saw many familar faces Saturday night. I think it would've been interesting if we all just slept in the pool table room Friday night. Just snuggling and waiting for the next show.

It was a party, so by the end of Made in the World's set, the floor was covered with confetti and balloons (some broken, some not.) Honestly, that's the most I was expecting. I guess it just shows you can't make assumptions. I thought people were tired, or not violent, or something. I don't really know what I was thinking, but I wasn't expecting broken glass. Well, well, was I mistaken. A certain person from Made in the World got in a fight with Rock Dad. I mean, he got into it, but Rock Dad started it. Seconds later, the floor is adorned with smashed wine glasses.

Good times, good times...
I wish I got that bastard's license plate...

Crap...Now I'm bleeding from my crotch.
Oh well, at least that's normal.
And at least I didn't wake up with it all over my sheets.

Crrracccckk...
pshssst..
sip sip
mmmm.

So, when the only thing that makes you feel better the next day is more beer, maybe you have a problem.

According to Merriam-Webster Online,

"Masturbation=erotic stimulation especially of one's own genital organs commonly resulting in orgasm and achieved by manual or other bodily contact exclusive of sexual intercourse, by instrumental manipulation, occasionally by sexual fantasies, or by various combinations of these agencies." But we all knew that, right? This dictionary has no entries for masturbate or masturbation in its thesaurus.

I remember when I was younger, you know, old enough to know what masturbate meant but I hadn't tried it really, I was reading a YM magazine, no it was Cosmo. Anyway, it mentioned something called "mutual masturbation." I didn't understand that one, lying beside each other jerking off? Why don't we touch each other? But Merriam-Webster's definition explains this. "or other bodily contact exclusive of sexual intercourse." So mutual masturbation is giving each other "jobs."

I was uncomfortable with the idea of touching myself for a long time. When I did do it, I felt dirty and wrong, I couldn't get past the fact that it was me touching me. You know, I couldn’t clear my head and get into it. I gave up for quite a long time. It’s not like I really needed it, there’d always been sex around when I wanted it.

But lately, I’ve been really enjoying it. And by lately, I mean the last year and a half or so. So what has changed? I’m a lot more comfortable with myself than I used to be. I also have more confidence. But I don’t have any toys.

Some girls that I used to be in a band with told me they were going to get me something. That was last year, and well, you can’t count on anyone. So I do it with no help at all. Just me and my fingers. I like taking a really warm bath, with bubbles that smell good and candles. It’s very relaxing. But that takes a lot of effort. I’m lazy and the effort, although nice, is not necessary.

'K
So I'm really good at crossing the street.
I always have been; it's a skill I picked up at about the age of 8.

I grew up on a road. Not a street, or place, or crescent, or whatnot, but a road. Like Spring Garden or Quinpool. Except, unlike those examples, my road was not full of businessess. It was a main road to take to get to Lawrencetown. I played with most of the other kids on the road. We built forts in the woods to look at porn, and climbed trees, slid down a local hill in the winter, played in the ditch and threw rocks at cars. You know, normal kid stuff. This road was fairly busy and always had dead and injured cats on the side of it. Until I was 8, I only used crosswalks. But it got really time consuming, as there weren't very many crosswalks on the road and my runnings around required me to cross frequently.

Then one day, my best childhood friend, Brian (not the Ling), taught me how to really cross the street. I learned how to look at a car, judge its distance and casually saunter across the street as if it were nothing. Now, I can judge rules of the road, and when traffic lights are going to turn, and when it is safe to cross even if the light is red.

Now I have the fear. I narrowly escaped getting hit in the knee on Tuesday. Someone was in a hurry to turn into traffic. He looked to his left and saw a van turn. His chance to go. So, he stepped on the gas. Thing is, I was coming from the right. He didn't see me. I was right in front of his car. I skipped to my right, slipped, caught myself with my left hand-smashing into the hood of his car. Shocked, I gave him the filthiest look I could conjure. He drove away.

My wrist is still very much in pain. I've taken a bunch of pills today.

Ow...

There's a new link over there----->
It will take you to Brian the Ling dot com

Brian Lingley is a very good friend of mine. He is also one of my oldest friends. By that, I mean, I've known him longer than most. I do have friends that are older than him agewise. If you've been to my house, you've seen his speedo poster on the wall. "Hey Ladies, Have a great summer."

He's an artist of many sorts. Brian used to co-host a show on his local Access Cable channel. The show was called Casey and Brian's half an hour show. I've seen all the episodes. They all make me laugh, some more than others, especially the last one that was never aired and contributed to getting the show cancelled.

Among other things, Brian makes many things Liverpool. Not the jolly old town where the Beatles came from, but a little sess-pool in Nova Scotia with tap water that causes cancer. He used to have a scale model of the town in his bedroom. Actually, he still might, I haven't been in his room for awhile. He also has a Liverpool based cartoon series and is the creator of all versions of the Liverpool Encyclopedia.

Have you ever been at a party where you've heard these ridiculous, poorly recorded dirty songs? They are usually referred to as "The Dirties" or "the Dirty Thirty" (even though there are much more than 30 of them now) Well, unless you've heard different ones than the ones I mean (and believe me, if you've heard them you know I'm being specific, like the cola) then those songs were yet another creation of the Ling. OK, he was only a co-creator in those, but he's allowed to take all the credit.

I'll never forget the first day I met the Ling. It was also my first time not being kicked out of Cafe Mokka. I was 100% convinced that this strange fella was a speed-freak. Only, I found out later that he was completely straight. Not like the straight-edge, loser scenster kind of straight. He just didn't drink, smoke, or do drugs. I was around to witness the first night that changed, and that was a good time. I was glad it was someone else throwing up for a change.

So, my new link takes you to his website where you can enjoy some wonderful things that come from Ling. I have to admit, I've wasted time playing those little games. I especially like Club Hammered.

Seriously, this sucks.
I'm crying now. I hate crying.

Um, yeah, so I changed this post. I said some things in selfish anger about someone I love. If I had said this to their face, I would wish I could take it back. Now, through the wonders of technology, I can. I would like to sincerely apologize to anyone who read it and knew the situation behind it. I would like to apologize to the person it was about, but I know he hadn't read it, so i don't have to.

Once this thing starts to take shape, I won't be taking stuff out like this, but I also won't be sitting here writing while in an emotional fit.

Yesterday was surgery day
I really hope you'll be okay
I even took the time to pray
I don't know what else to say
We will visit you today

They're completely redoing my apartment. They have been working on it since the first week of September; waking me up around 8:00, six days a week. I've gotten used to all the hammering. What's bugging me now, is the way they worked on the front of the building. I misplaced my key to the side door AGES ago. But it never really mattered because I've always used the front door. I came home from school one day last week, and the front steps and porch were gone. I climbed my way up and squeezed through the front door into the "mailroom." Only to find a piece of wood nailed across the door and a sign reading "Please use side door."

The porch has been rebuilt for a week or so now, but not finished or painted or anything. BUT THAT GODDAMN PIECE OF WOOD IS STILL THERE!

Oh well, it's "fun" to crawl in and out of my apartment every day.

bang, bang, bang, they're building something right now. I can't wait till they're finally done. But there's this rumour that when they're done, they will start on the building next door. bang, bang, bang, it's already been three months.

I want my new bathroom.

I woke up to blood today. What a way to start the day. Coming out of a dream to see gushing. I almost thought I was dying.

In the mornings, after the sun comes up, I tend to roll over on my stomach. That way, I'm facing my mattress and the sunlight doesn't bother me. I was already awake because KC was getting ready for school. My class was later, so I rolled onto my stomach and started to drift back to sleep.

mmmm...wet? My face is wet!! When I open my eyes, I see red. My pillow is quickly getting soaked in blood. It's pouring out of my NOSE!!!

Nosebleeds were common to me as a child, apparently caused by the stress of my parents fighting all the time. Ear infections were common too, due to their chain-smoking. But it's been at least 16 years since I had a nosebleed.

Now I have a headache.