Fuck. Nothing's going right these days. It could be argued that things are going right, and I need to change my perspective, but I'm not going to get into that.

My whole to-do list today centered around me cashing a paycheque first. That's not going to happen. I didn't understand the payroll schedule when I asked for them to not mail it this week. I naturally thought that mailing the cheques would make them arrive later, and so I wanted to pick this one up before I leave town. It seems they put a rush on the mailed ones so that they arrive on time, meaning mine won't actually be ready before I go. How am I going to pay rent and refill a 'script by Wednesday? This news had me teary-eyed in Scotia Square, so I switched my Walkman and stormed around town listening to Crossed Out. I returned to the office on my way home, to stop in after the boss had returned from her lunch break. we have a few possible solutions, so things aren't as dire now. It just means instead of going to a pharmacy, I get to spend the day cleaning my room and packing. No biggie, really. But, still...FUCK.

Four years ago I broke my word and we brought Claudette home for dinner.

Be careful what you wish for. Or what you don't.

I wish things weren't this way. But I can't help it. Not this way. No. No matter how much I genuinely want to.

I hope you're okay.

I don't want to cry anymore today. But we can't always get what we want. Maybe someday I'll get what I need.

I threw up a little bit in my mouth yesterday. While cleaning out the fridge. I threw up on my naked thighs later. I didn't have dinner. I cleaned and cleaned all day taking a few breaks to go to the store or play on the computer. I was going to have a few veggie dogs, but people were here by the time I got out of the shower so I just started on my beer. After that was all gone, well, before I finished my beer, actually, I dug into the blueberry, gin, and smoke punch. It was a bit of an awkward night for me. I couldn't find a place for me, so I kept returning to my place on the couch when it was free. At one point, KC suggested I go to bed, since I was falling asleep on the floor beside him. I got up, went to my room, couldn't find something to sleep in, took off my clothes, and laid down. As soon as I put down my head, everything started to spin. I heaved a bit and realized I had to put something on to run to the bathroom. I threw my hoodie over my shoulders, and heaved again, this time something actually came up into my mouth, and some purple spots landed on my thighs. I ran to the bathroom as is. I didn't care that I just had my briefs on; I've worn them on stage. After I gave my donation to the toilet, I didn't feel like sleeping, so I cleaned off my legs, threw on some jeans, and went back downstairs where I poured water and talked to a few more people. After wandering around aimlessly for a bit, I just went back up to bed. I just didn't fit anywhere.

I injured my wrist somehow.

Last year I asked for help that I didn't end up using.

Why oh why did I do that? Actually, I know why. I can't pretend I don't, though it would be so much more convenient to do so. It's not like things were just building up unbeknownst to you. I've tried to talk about it nicely before. I try to remain positive and understanding. I try to at least be as good to you as you have been to me in the past. But it doesn't change the truth. When things build up inside, sometimes they overflow. It was the wrong time and place, but whiskey has a way of making things come out. I hate that I hurt you. I hope we can get past it. I love you. That's why it was there to boil over anyway. If I didn't, it would be a lot easier. I'm really sorry. Stupid, stupid Crystal. I'll blame it on the stars.

Last year I wondered if you had a dick or not(or, I quoted a dirty).

I wish I didn't have to work. I wish I could stay in bed with you. You're finally at my place, even though my room is a mountain of stuff. Storage space. At least it's my last day.

God only knows what I'd be without you.

Last year I was having issues with beauty products.

Another Wednesday night, another Thursday morning waking up in that wonderful place called your arms.

I always watch eclipses too early, get bored and miss going back later to see it fully disappear (and change colour).

It's my second last day at a job I've really gotten to like. I get to stuff 700 envelopes for the last time (at least for now and in this office).

I brought a bunch of laundry here but then I didn't do it last night. We got too wrapped up watching American Idol (which doesn't do as much for me now that the auditions are over, never mind the fact that Josiah didn't even make it to the top 24). I didn't really bring much to wear, since I was going to wash so much. Oh well. Last time. Tomorrow's casual day.

I'm leaving a bit later today. It'll be okay. Just less time to stand in line at Timmy Ho-ho's.

(This thing froze as I was about to hit publish, and even though this post is not important, I came back to publish it, so I'm late. I will find something from the archives to link to, if applicable, later. Or, you can just dig through the archives yourself.)

I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna get you all
It's a pink moon
It's a pink, pink, pink, pink, pink moon

Last year I was batshit crazy and improperly placing all the blame of any problems on myself, while screaming at him.

Rain, rain go away
Come again another day

One week left at the job, then I get to hit the road again for a short trip. It's funny. I remember when I had been on a few tours, and two weeks was the longest one yet. It's certainly short compared to three months. I wonder if they're going to have the new temp come in before I go and make me train them. It has been suggested, although, should it really be a responsibility of a temp?

I got a lot of work done in my room, although it sort of looks worse right now. I unpacked a bunch of boxes, so now there's a bunch of clutter to deal with. I'm excited to continue with that goal this week. I am also impatiently waiting for a package.

Three years ago I was calling the whiteness in the photo the ghost, not the photographer.

I've pretty much always read horoscopes. I used to be really into astrology as a teenager. I never really believed the prediction part of things, but found the personality stuff interesting. The crap in newspapers are too bullshitty.

It has become a widely discussed topic in my immediate circle, for some reason. A girl in Florida told me of this guy who has a reputation of being scarily accurate and I've been reading his site, for fun, ever since.

Could you imagine taking something like this seriously:

Your Week Ahead: So near, yet so far. So, almost but not quite. So tantalisingly, frustratingly, just on the very edge of being attainable. Oh, come on. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You are being coy because you do not care to confess the true depth of your desire. If you can pretend that you are not really bothered, you can at least preserve your pride. Why do that? Just put all your energy into stretching that little bit further. This week's eclipse insists, that you can yet manage to make that elusive but essential connection. Be brave. Keep trying.

Yeah right.

Two years ago the Khyber was closing.

Happy Flag Day.

I hope your romance night was a good one, all a y'all.

To one in particular: I wish you didn't tell me that last night. I've been thinking about it all day, and it's probably nothing. Not only s it probably nothing, it's none of my fucking business.


Last year I drank too much at the DIVORCE Valentine's show.

I'm failing. Which also means I'm breaking one of the only promises I've ever made myself. This is a very disappointing fact.

Ah.

I love waking up in your arms.

If there's one thing we're good at, it's snuggling.

"You don't have to push me! I just got off stage!"

I just blurted it out. It was the same privileged, self-important attitude I had been bitching about all night, but I was so angry. So many wankers walking around thinking they're something special (and in some cases, I'm sure they were) simply because they were invited to schmooze at a music festival. A festival that wouldn't exist without musicians. Have some fucking respect.

Of course the situation in particular was my fault. I should've known that going out for a smoke after my set would mean I was trying to get back inside at the same time as a huge group of people trying to get in to see Wintersleep. What was I thinking? I don't know what I was thinking, but I know I was trying incredibly hard to be polite and courteous and most other people were not putting in a similar effort. Some were. Some were amazingly nice. But it's always easier to remember the negative than the positive.

I got outside and immediately starting ranting/shouting to myself about the privileged motherfuckers when a stranger came over to ask why I was upset and to say he enjoyed the set. I explained that I'm not used to all this industry stuff and I'd give anything to play a DIY basement show again. Talking with him cheered me up quickly and we both headed for the door once the cigarettes were gone. Apparently, someone in line knew him, and moved aside to let him in, but closed the gap to cut me off. I politely stood my ground, letting the people in front of me show their ID's to get in, but inching my way to the door beside the line. I had beer in there. And international delegates I had to talk to. Fahey needed an interview.

That's when some chick behind me pushed ahead and dug her elbow into my arm and I blurted out that I was more important than her. I'm still a few people back, and I'm still patiently allowing the ones in front to do what they have to do. Next thing I know, those girls up ahead get in, and the line moves up, pushing me back once again. That is when I couldn't take it anymore. I lifted my arms and laid both of my hands on the female beside me. Putting all of my might into it, I shoved her as hard as I could, creating a domino effect as a bunch of girls in stupid heels in the snow toppled out of my way and I barged back inside.

The whole night was filled with me trying to be on my best behaviour, but being tempted to be on my worst. Standing at the side of the stage, waiting for my keyboard stand, I very nearly spit on She Who Must Be Destroyed. I hadn't seen her in a long time, I couldn't even be sure that it was her, but my reaction was as spontaneous as when I gagged in the kitchen after rinsing out a beer can from New Year's Eve that I had found near the bathroom. The gob was actually slipping through my lips when I came to my senses and sucked it back in.

It wasn't all bad, don't get me wrong. I got to see some people I hadn't seen in awhile, including my ex's sister that I hadn't spoken to in over a decade. I guess we both felt awkward around each other thinking one hated the other, when really it's just that she hated her brother and we met through him. I was great having Tom, Christian, and Emily in Fredericton. I absolutely love the guys in Wintersleep. No, it wasn't all bad, but it wasn't easy. I love playing shows, but I hate the industry bullshit so very, very much.

The next day was much better. Some afternoon hangouts with our guys followed by an interview with Scott Kitchen and then an all ages show. I always enjoy the interviews with Scott. I especially like going through the music library and picking our own stuff to play. I played the Pointed Sticks song that had been in my head all week. We also played a song off the Lost Boys soundtrack, since it had somehow come up in conversation and they actually had the record at the station. Nancy played Daniel Johnston and KC picked a bunch of stuff.

(Free) Beer was hard to come by, but there was more than enough Red Bull everywhere. Ew.

An interesting weekend. I am certainly glad to be home, getting ready to clean my room.

"I never ever wanted to get too close to you I didn't want to fall in love."

Last year I was forced to get out and socialize for the first time in ages thanks to a Hold show at the Speakeasy.

Always.

It's true.

How's that for hilarious and very sad all at the same time?

I'm listening to Napalm Death in KC's bedroom waiting for the dryer to finish. He's upstairs making pork burgers and corn niblets for dinner. I like his place. I don't even mind that it feels like we are living in the servants' quarters. The basement floor is covered th linoleum and you can feel the grooves and hills of the dirt underneath. The ceilings are low and the main part of the house is accessed by ascending a steep staircase into the kitchen.

I'm getting used to the midget baths. I'd say it's about a third of the size of my tub. It's shallow and short. The ceiling slants over it, meaning I have to remember to duck as I stand to get out. Today I finally got to use a towel for pretty much the first time since I got home. I used a towel in the motel in Antigonish. Today I got to use my own.

I didn't mean to spend the whole weekend here, but I fully enjoyed it. I do want and need to stop putting off organizing my room. I can see in my mind how I'd like to put it together. It's just a matter of spending enough time there to actually do it. And last week I was sick and tired.

Friday was a nice little spontaneous gathering upstairs. I had planned to go to the Gunts n' Roses show last night, but I'd foolishly thrown my money away on booze Thursday on the way home from work. So, we accepted an invitation to hang out in the studio and reach a common ground with El Torpedo. I spent a lot of my time sorting the hundreds of pictures I've taken since Dog Day's birth so I can soon start posting them. Which reminds me, it's almost Valentine's Day. For the last few years we've played a show on the 14th, but this year we are not. I wonder what we will do instead to celebrate our anniversary.

Two years ago I was feeling a lot worse than I do now, and even entertained awful ideas of what to do to myself.