nothing is possessed

im still focusing on the temporality of our meeting. it wont last, does either of us care? i dont know what will become of anything past next tuesday, does anyone have to care about that. why do i care that you plan on leaving?  i take two steps back. because then i know not to care, but then it effects me right now. but only because i let it effect me. today i pictured my mothers funeral, and then pictured me going alone at the edge of a cliff, sitting on a branch that dangles from its edge. i sit on it like a swing and i scream. i scream out into the mass of water. people look to me and they know that no one could ever match my grief. they wonder how such a nice Kim could yello so loud, with so much pain, and anger. and then they realized, "fuck she must have loved her." hell, i always will. life takes things that you do not own away. i own nothing, so it feels like someday it will take it all away. hmm. fuck that noise. that kind of has a negative connotation from it, but  really, it could have a positive one. "Hi, I take things." is that positive? no? not yet? well maybe it will be, or could be. Am I bitter right now? or am I just tired. pfft, not just tired. I dont know whether to cash all my coins in, or to go all out. well it depends on how you want to play the motherfuckin poker game, because anyways, you dont even own your own shit. that possessive there in grammar is a lie. fuck that syntax. his, hers, their, ours, all that shit, a fucking illusion. nothing is mine.

Haha, yesterday I was eating an apple around 430pm, and I ate the sticker that was on it.
This morning, at 730 pm, I pooped it out.

I was laughing so much; now I know disgestion rates! (Of that one just passed)


GOod Morning.

I do my homework on my blog

Fuck this shit. I'ma rip this assignment a new ass face, hah. Disregard that, if you can!


Six Species of Signs, holy crud eh. Do I really have to write a response for this, it was so fucking.. bland. Or not. Or you know what, maybe it was.

I didn't get much from it, only that the terminology from different semioticians in the past, actually serve as synonyms.

The Bifacial sign is fairly simple to understand, there is the physical sign (spoken or written word, or visual) that is paired with its meaning (the concept).

Zero signs were a bit more tricky to understand. They used silences as an example, so I guess from what's not said, a lot is said. Like those awkward silences after someone farts in an elevator. The sign is the sound and smell of the fart, maybe even its detonator's blushing cheeks. Which would then signal that it was them. The reactions of the others trapped in the elevator signal the scent-disgust reactions, and also the social taboo of farting in public. But is that a zero sign? The look of disgust that one would probably give to the farter, or even the non-look, focusing their eyes to the ground.

Token/Type, Denotation/Designation. Token is the recurrence of a sign that denotes, and the type is the sub-categorization of what each of those signs designate. Words on a page; each word on a page denotes that it's going to be a word for some concept. And the Type is what concept each word designates. The type, is a designation of value (incorrect word), but of meaning.

And now for the actual six species of signs.

Well the signal is fairly obvious also. It is the object (visual, spoken/written word) that is trying to communicate its linked information to whomever is perceiving it. These interactions may be within systems of organisms, or machines.

The Symptom. Oh, so to reuse the analogy of the fart in the elevator... the blushing of the cheeks would be the Symptom of the farter, maybe even the non-farters, because blushing would be a symptom to signal embarrassment, which comes from the connotation of how we must react to farts in public.

Icon. Like how on washroom doors in public areas, there is an image of a 'man' and of a 'woman' to denote the sex of the persons whom are designated to enter each washroom. The black figures are icons, because they have a similarity to what they are representing.

Index. Again, using the above analogy.. The indexical sign in the elevator situation would be the smell and sound of the fart. Enough said? Enough said.

Symbol. So our middle finger is an obvious symbol in our culture of the word 'fuck', in an aggressive and offensive manner. (There are many connotations to the word 'fuck', but in this instance, I trust it is known what it means.) The middle finger is just a finger, but when it is singled out and pointed up, with its knuckle facing out, due to its social reoccurrance, it is a symbol and message of aggression and disrespect to whomever its knuckle faces, from its displayer.

Name was interesting. Because I never thought of the name as a sign, it was merely just present. But it is a sign! Even though there might be a cultural, or social meaning to a word, to a name ( ex. Gwenith Paltrow's daughter, Apple) a name is just a way to linguistically refer to an object, that in no way is to serve as a description to what that object is.

Will I post this?

Maybe I won't. I don't want to bore you with my reading responses. Well the queer theory ones really started up something, but this one, maybe it's because it's my first assignment I'm actually doing, I'm quite apprehensive about it. And I also want to have dinner at Shaun's house, but I have to do this. I have to do two. Hmm, fuck?

Anyways.

The reading for my Semiotics class (fuck I have to do this, just gotta :I ) is "Culture, 'Nature' and Everyday Life" by David Inglis. We only had to read the introduction, which is nice. I wonder if I have to do two pages for each reading, or two pages for both readings. She said 1-2 pages too. pfft, fuck I'm alright. It's just having to have to think about something. Yesterday was all semiotics, I shudda done this. Nope, I shuddn't have that attitude.

Anyways, it's actually quite interesting. (Changing attitude). Because, we are submersed into our culture. Exactly like a fish in water. Exactly like us existing in space. The truman show quote, "We accept the world which we are given." Or something like that.. is it. The use of arbitrary is a bit off putting, I've heard it a lot in semiotics, it's kinda like when people are using the term 'juxtapose' for their art pieces in NSCAD. Or at least the classes in which I've been. I'ven't yet ben able to keep on writing thoroughly.  I find this stressing me out a bit. Especially that Marena came home, and I don't know why it bugs me. Well it doesn't, I'm just on edge.

The culture around me tells me how I should be, right from when they saw that I was a girl. Right from when they saw my parents and gave them their jobs and their house. Right when they would treat my mom as an immigrant (did they?). Right when they saw that I looked asian, chinese, japanese, no Korean. I've read readings of feminist valour, and since I'm a chick, they're talking to me, I'm inclusive in their use of the word "us". Even as I will talk to my peeps, my friends, ma crew, it's "How's your day going?" (first off, the first form of cultural greeting) (hell, I'm even writing this on a blog, this is new culture(ish) too, North American dominated I'd guess?) But when I will be talking to my friends too, its quite organized. What we talk about to the other isn't even surprising. My friend, Barrett, and I, speak of school mostly. We speak of 'intellectual' stuff. Our dimeanor is even hoity toity.

There is a predisposed position on how me/we in this culture are even suppose to look at and treat those on the streets. Pan handlers. "Spare change" askers. Even how they're of popular subject. In my photography class last year, 4 people out of the 12 or 16 had used the 'homeless' as subject matter. What does the word 'homeless' even mean? Do they actually not have homes? Where do they go in the night? If it is in shelters, could they not just be living freely in community housing? Is it public housing? Would I be able to stay there if I wanted to? Is there a permancy for its regular goers?

"Sociology is in the business of stereotyping" is what Inglis says in his introduction. And it is. Bless it. Stereotyping, and openly stereotyping is a touchy issue to. It connotes a limited experience of individual expression. Or if they do not fit into the linguistic categories into which society has predisposed them, they are labelled as Queer. Because I don't know if we have many Shakespeare running about now, making up words. (Maybe I am/could be one?) Man I'm interested in language right now, or at least today.

It's like we're in our own triadic relationship/web/triangle of life. Or of culture. I don't know what to name it. But it's where culture and society and everyday affairs effect the other. After learning about Black History, or the Holocaust, I act differently, or black Slavery or anti-semitist topics come serging through my head when my eyes perceive coloured folk, or jewish folk. Hell, it's even difficult trying to explain what I want to, because there are so many negative and sensitive pairings that go with the words, "black person" or "jews". Or is there not? I don't want to hurt anyones feelings, and I'm kind of trying to be careful, I say kind of because I don't feel like being Shakespeare right now, all I want to do is get it out. Fuck, I'm already defending myself.  Society has taught me to behave cautiously this way, around these sensitive topics (black slavery and holocaust). I'm personally interested in them, because I am not apart of them, I guess, in the same way some one else who is removed from that living culture as Inglis put it, but who is still "black" or "jewish" living today. But am I not apart of it? Like, I'm no black jew, hell, I might not even be a woman. Whatever to these ideologies. there is a tie though, with this inside feeling that one, or I guess, empirically (if this word fits) I feel connected to those representations of dead people in piles I've seen for pictures of the holocaust. I receive visceral reactions when I hear of black slave ships, and how those conditions more than the word suck could ever connotate.. but still I am removed from their group, or kin, because I am.. Asian? Although my father is White? I am .. not Black and not Jewish.

Sensitivities man, sensitivities. How does one defamiliarize themselves from the Holocaust? Why am I using this as an example even. On the outside, trying to speak of what's in. In society, everyone is an outsider, I swear. And I am neither informed well enough, or know greatly, the boundaries of sensitivities of social groups, or of cultures, and of the languages they use to speak amongst themselves. It's like constantly learning a new language everyday, but all you seem to say are profanities.

I have been on the inside with outsiders talking to me too, and no matter what they said, I took it offensively - their language though! How could they not know. Do not use Asian jokes to joke about me, or joke about the 'academics' of art school. Now whenever these topics arise, I turn into a great defense, with a pinch of aggression. Is Culture and Nature one thing? How are human activities not natural? Does it mean, would it exist outside of the existence of humans? Like Beaver Dams? Are beaver dams natural then? Or are they not.

And I don't agree with Inglis' use of the word arbitrary, to explain culture. Arbitrary means, according to my dictionary on my laptop, which is my reasoning for all my definitions, something that is without reasoning for its manifestation. Then we go into some sort of cultural history lesson (which is subject to fallibilism for shure!), but then it's black slavery happened, because some folks found some boats.. well, I don't even know how to reason that one. But where reactionary steps formed from prior steps. I feel like that is reasoning. Reasoning does not mean what is truth, or scientific. It is merely that if one cultural idea formed as a reaction to something that had effected that culture, then yes everything is and was contingently made upon its prior existence. Everything that has not happened is relativistic, yet once it has happened, it is determinism. So I guess the point of this would be to ideally form what is future and relative, into a more widely acceptedly culture where everyone's happy, if we all even want to be happy..

and sex begot them

my pet peeve, or mild fear is when ill be laying in bed, writing out what i want to say in my head. it gets lost. how I started this blog in my head moments ago was entirely different than now. for one thing the tense of time is totally different, because i nwas thinking i would write it in the morning, nut it is now. what was i even going to write. ive spent a lot of the day in my head i feel. but then i remember that the days been longer than the time ive spent reading. i read my horoscope for twenty minuted in the mirning, and when i go to bed. why two times? i dunno, to foresee, then to recapitulate. or to check. but i do it. mine and some select person at a time, or many, it varies if they're even aaprt of it. today i took breaks from reading by doing pushups, how productive. i was trying out the ones where your hands form the suit of spades because your fingers touch. now , for the first time ever, s'was able to move my one pec muscle on my right side. cant remember if the left was too successful or not. i decided that Im going to make a bra sometime next week. my breasts feel neither good in bras or just chilling. well, i dont mind thembraless, i just would prefer apple tits i guess. but i shouldnt think like that. i like my breasts, just sometimes, i dont too. ill have visuals of a saw cutting through them, its like nails on a chalkboard for me. and i dunno, the serated edges of the blade, with the chillin skin-what would it look like in the inside? i wish i could make a paragraph break, im on my phone, so welcome to this format. i havent even said what i wanted to say yet. im feeling very selfconscious, i connected this blog to my profile, so that more people may read it. espec if they go thru my facebook profile, go to the dream blog, then to my profile, then to this. its all very frightening, as much as it means shit. ive been reading my queer theory readings today, done all but one short one (tomorrow morning) and the last one i read was super compelling. "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," by Adrienne Rich. i really recommend it, i read pg 620-660 or something, but how women are born into this heterosexual dominated world. i was connectung with this because i dont know how some girls meet girls. i dont want to have to dress the dress to symbolize a stereotypical lesbian to acquire a date, or to have someone ask me, because i sure as hell know that right now i havent the least bit of courage to ask a girl out. there have been a couple i would like to, but that rejection would be hard. but why? in another one of the readings they were saying how therez a sexual hierarchy, and being a promiscuous lesbian is fairly low. now, i dont know what a lesbian is, but i know i feel like i know how a girl should be physically and maybe in all other respects loved and treated. maybe not tho, i could be vile and rude, at times i fer shure feel like it. i remember hanging out with chelsea and it felt surreal, or at least it does now. the further i am pulled away from its nearness to me, the more idealized i see it. we werent ever even together. i reference to her as my gf sometimes, or i would, i dunno.. to say that there was something, that i had whatever. fuck, im twenty one and still talking about it. so. i talk about the past, its only what i know to have experienced and thus to know. is this empirical knowledge? did i just use a term correctly, which i have just learned from the readings.. exciting.  mt body is tired, especially my eyes. tomorrow i hang out with shaun, but right now i feel devoid of aby certainty. all the new info ive picked up makes me questions whether or not i am who i am because it is who i am, or if i am subsequent to the choices made for me without my say, ive never given love to a man, but i have to chelsea. i have more desires to please a woman than i have with men. i like male bodies and how they stimulate me. but i havent yet had the satisfaction of a woman. god bless lesbians, or girls who are currently doing what they want to do. i want to ask a girl out, or be in a femme relationship, but i wouldnt know how to start. i want it to be right. i want friends really, but that is the same as love and lovers.  but i also want everything, except for a small appetite.  oh, thinking brings more questions than answers.

the only way out is through

be in a relationship, knowing it will end. it's kinda like eternel sunshine of the spotless mind. i have a significant uranus influence over me, and it days any relationship I start under it will surely end by its passing, aka, march 2013. i mean, i know life goes on, and there will be better people, i tell myself, there is always a positive renewal of things, but damn, i sure do enjoy him. the horoscope thing said that they're there to satisfy a certain need or purpose and then they will be off, k, i get it. why do i listen to this stuff anyways eh. sometimes I cant remember his face. i can, but not really. i feel like his expressions shift so much, im still calculating how they relate to one head. each time i see him he looks different. i should try harder to fall asleep.

Crystal Crescent.

I'm nervous and I'm lying down on my carpet, anticipating the final movements to get onwards with the biking trip. Now, I believe I'm a confident biker and whatnot, I got good stamina and a go at this, but I did honestly feel a bit underpowered, as my bike was a different bike to ride than what I was use to. But all that shit aside, it made it there, and back. Of course with some hiccoughs along the way. First of all, how fucking fun it was going down all the hills, especially the first one on Quinpool, as it turns into the rotary. Going up from the Rotary was fucking saweet too, because it was the first muscle stretch, and I did it with no walking. But I need momentum, so stop and going is exponentially more difficult than just going fast down then mildly quick up. My back tire, the hub gearness, started its first noises of doom. Squeaking and erching, metal was scraping metal on the inside of the back tire's axel, but Shaun brought some lube, (bless him,) and so we did the deed and kept on keeping on.

The sky grew dark, and the noises weren't there. The cars sped by, slowly passing us night riders with caution. The road was fucking saweet in the night. It took, or at least it felt long to get there, I stopped and walked maybe three times for a bit. The first time, Shaun honestly and encouragely exclaimed, "Noo." I did the disappointment. Because it made me knew I had to try harder, you know. My outlook was great, my internal one was mildly so, but still great. I'm going to say great. Focusing on the white line would help going up the hills, because I wouldn't really see the length, I would only be seeing the moment to moment process. Anywho, we got there, and took a wrong turn. We hadn't got there yet. It was dark in Sambro, and doughnut tread marks could be seen on the road. Friday night in Crystal cresent, where da peeps at? We asked for directions, and went back a bit, continued along.. a road. Went and found ourselves at the beach. We were carrying our bikes along the sand (Fucking champions I felt us to be), and found a trail on which we continued. We were walking along for maybe 20 minutes, or half an hour, and with Shaun's doubt, and my pre-trip blog reading, we deduced that we were indeed walking and carrying our bikes along a 10 km hiking trail. So we turned around and went back to point A. The first point A, the entrance of the park itself. From there Shaun was able to find, amazling, a small entry point between trees, which was his initially intended trail to enter. Following this in the dark, our little bike lights as guides, walking and stumbling, tripping a bit over the larger of the irregular rocks, we found ourself the shore. We had been biking, and hiking for a bit, so with doubt Shaun mentioned a more awesome and cooler camping ground just a bit ways and hassles ways away, but after giving said option, he settled for the camp spot upon which we trodded first.

The area was soft and moist under the foot. It was a really foggy night, which was super cool, as both of our glasses ended up fogging right well. Shaun had set up our tent and stuff, I was perfecting my squat (motherfucking tired legs may we say), but hey, I was the honour'd flashlight shiner. This set up was done right quick and then we came to gathering firewood. Being foggy and right next to the Atlantic Ocean, shit was moist, nothing dry. But so we snapped off the small twigs sticking out from some of the trees, and made a new fire pit on the beach itself. Tossing some rocks and creating a circle, we dug a hole in the ground and made the shit happen. The fire was a bit tidious. Shaun had to make two more wood trips by himself as I continued to cook the weiners (he got Sausages before we went!). Impulsively actually, we stopped at the Superstore right at the beginning of the expedition and grabbed weiners, and 4 newspapers (kindle). All these things came in handy. We got the fire going long enough to cook 4 weiners for each, eat the fucking delicious and well welcomed trail mix I packed, and to chill, warming our exposed shins to the warmth. It was pretty fucking late. This was the second time I saw the milky way, and we got to talking and chilling, as we do. We sacrificed, or gave as a gift, as long with the package (in distaste for the mythical threat of the bear which might appear), the single remaining sausage a la mer, ou preferablement a l'ocean. Puis, we set aflame to the remainder of the newspapers and grass and other quick burning things, chilled (warmly) there for a few more minutes, then set a sandy end to the well survived fire. Shame, but it was late.

Going to bed with no fly on the tent, and with no pants, only shorts and skin, I was fearful of waking up by the mythical and threatening cold. But hey! It was fine. It was actually too warm at times. Well no, not too warm (at least during the night), but when the sun rose, fucking by god it was awesome to be able to see it. During the night, Shaun and I kept on getting stirred up by our dreams or our first nightmares, but it was a well intuitive and orchestrated sleep. The sun came up, and as it's unshielded rays hit our face and bodies, it was a bit warm, quite warm. Thinking of biking in this made me a bit nervous. I thought I was awake and ready to wake up right maybe after a half hour after sunrise, but seeing as Shaun was sleeping, and knowing of the returning trip, I encouraged myself to sleep longer.. until we both had risen.. whenever later; around 10 most probably certain I am. We heard laughter twice from around where the trail is, and being at the entry point between the trail and the beach, we were apprehensive for having sex in an exposed area, but hey, the world is your oyster, and you have nothing to fear but fear itself. So, to quote Austin Power, we hopped on the good foot and did the bad thing. Fuck it like utopia.

When we were leaving his place at the beginning beginning of the trip, he asked, "Oh hey, did you bring your bathing suit?" I responded with, "No, because there's a nudist beach?" "Okay, so I won't bring mine then." Bam. Plans were made.

We showered and pissed and swam in the ocean, hahah!! I fucking loved pissing in that big old la mer! C'etait absolutement awesome. Je le recommend pour toutes les personnes qui peuvent les faire. Parce que, avec une bladder tres grosse, c'est fer fucking shure relieving just a l'avoir cette experience. Magnifuckinfique.

We air dried - cool. Had breakfast - sweet. Snap peas, globe grapes, cara cara oranges, mandarins, sesame/flax creakers, carrots.. Mmhmm. It wasn't substantial, but it was mineral and wateriful satisfying. We chilled for a bit, lying down in the sun. It was so cool. Because, it really did feel like this was the home, you know. Like, this was our land in those moments spent within it. With him, I feel more carefree, in an adventerous, yet not so ignorant or irresponsible way, hell, I don't even think I know the meanings of those words entirely right now.. It's like, I don't want to spend any time worrying on anything that needs not be worried over with him, because it feels so temporal and real, that I want quality, rather than quantity. So, I had my first outdoor sex, that wasn't polluted with deviant behavior, or the night. It was free and exposed. It was.. very fucking nice.

We had our second dip in the water, this time, it was beyond belief less cold than the first morning's go.  Confessions of current realizations, and hurdles over past anxieties were made, whilst uniting with the undulating waters. It was nice. Fuck, it was only yesterday, but it feels far away, if this makes sense. Unreal that right now, or moments before right now, I was doing homework. And after this, I will be grocery shopping.

I like being with him because it makes me appreciate the moment. As much as he is with me, I know he will not be. Or could not be. Gracious, very fucking gracious.

Turning back in from our second dip, after all the worried glances Shaun had made practice to look, he hadn't saw the neon yellowed shirt of a girl and a young boy, walking along the beach, only a hundred metres away. I laughed and called and motioned to Shaun to look towards his right, and a smile thus ensued on his face. Our heads were just like, "ah fuck, hah, there's the people." For a really fucking fine Saturday, at a popular beaching area, these are the first people we've seen. But, in all honesty, the beach was filled with seaweed, and having such a small and sacred and secret entrance, I believe it was only most known to locals, rather than the popular population.

We dried up. I stood to air dry in the sun a bit longer, and Shaun used his shirt to dry off with a dash of haste. I put on my clothes with moist skin, to keep up with his clothed body I guess. Who wants to be a naked one in a room, eh? Heh. But so we were started to talk about sexual experiences. None I shall go into now, but as we were talking I shared with him the last grapes, and the last Cara Cara orange. He had gone to shit into the wild, and I had went to rinse my hands of fruity sugars for a conversational break. As I was walking back, the girl on the beach, close to my age, stopped me, inquiring as to whether we camped there the night prior. I had said yes, and she had wondered if we had heard any coyotes. Laughs ensued, as I told her Shaun and I came bearing no weapons, both having nightmares, yet heard no animal life whatsoever. I didn't want to tell her that the howling she might've heard last night, was probably Shaun and I whilst riding on our bikes, enthused for the happenings of the trip itself. When I returned, Shaun was like, "Hey so I didn't know you had left, so I came back being like, 'so, Red Wings, eh.'" Red Wings, I was saying to him, is when one is eaten out during their period, thus  having residual traces of blood on each cheek. I had said a past lover wanted to try this on me, rest assured, I disagreed with any foregoings of such a thing. Mmhm, whatever floats ones boat.. but anyways..

We packed up; the two people left, so as passing we quad said goodbye. It felt a bit, ah.. to leave. But meh I suppose. One must goeth and they cometh. Exiting the trail was neat, seeing all the things off of which we tripped the night prior. Getting along the road, we put on chapstick and started up again. We continued talking about sex for a bit whilst on our bikes, but as soon as the road became busier, we maintained a single-file'd position. It started to get difficult for me to ride a bit, out of breath on this one hill, a man out tended to his lawn said to me, "it's all up-hill from here." What a realist, I admire this. So at the next mid-top of the next hill, I asked Shaun if he wouldn't mind trading for a bit. I felt a bit, weak? I guess for asking, but it was for the good of the go I believed. After showing me his ways of his bike, we got along to it. His bike was smooooth to ride. Even more awesome was the usage of the gears (which I got to understanding and using better a bit more km's a way). He passed me whenever, and going down the hills was sooo awesome, and a bit more terrifying on his bike too. Terrifying because it's not my bike, it's significantly higher, thus I have less control over it, and the distance from my hands to the handle bars in relation to my feet my ass and the seat and pedals. But all was good! Until.. I could see him going up this one next steeper hill and was thinking like, "Yeah! Fucking right Shaun! Use em legs of metal!" I was so stoked seeing go at it more fluidly than I. His fluidity and metallic strength was so much of itself good that the pedal came off, laughmyfuckingass off. HAH. As I came up he looked at my with a face of defeat and anxiety. Conclusion - hitch hiking. It was a bit nerve racking because we didn't have the proper tool for this quick fix. I had a wrench that could slightly work.. but we needed an allan key of thicker dimensions. He gave option to using a rock of the same size, and I laughed and said, "if you can find that rock!" I quickly said sorry, because I felt I had said that far too firmly. I do believe that it was a cheese grater to the skin sort of remark. But anyways. We settled on trying to hitchhike. Settled further on it being a better idea if we separate our closeness, because I was the only in need of a ride, but being a driver seeing the two of us might  miscommunicate our intentions. Not the two, only the one. So I was prepared to try to hitchhike alone, or walk uphill and levelhill, and/or to coast downhill. It was only.. what.. a 5 hour walk from where we were to the city, and I would arrive pretty much at Sundown if all things continued onwards...

No pick ups. No slow downs. But one..

A police! I hitched my thumb at him, and Shaun recommended not to because hitch hiking was illegal and Police cars can't do that. But the officer stopped and I had called to him from the opposite side of the road, "My bike broke down and I'm wondering if there's any way in which you could serve me in this need of aid?" "Hold on as I come back and turn around." We waited for a couple minutes, and he had arrived.

I liked being there with Shaun, I felt that it was all possible, as much as it was unknowable. The officer spoke of the Irving Gas Station being only 5 km up further from where we were, and offered to give me a lift there with my bike (if it could fit). Luckily, and fucking gratefully, the bike fit in the back seat (WHICH HAS NO CUSHIONS BTW!) and Shaun gave me a kiss, and I gave him a smile of "I don't know what the fuck I'm doin'" with a large dash of nervousness, and we were off. Small talk happened in the police car.. but more importantly.. I arrived at the Gas Station. The cop was fucking nice too. He w a n t e d to be a good guy. The rise of his eyebrows and openness of his eyes said so. And the corners of his smile would twist and turn into sympathy. But anyways.. it was nice that I had gotten that ride there, and in waiting for Shaun's appearance (go lad go!) I went into the gas station and asked the clerk if he had any tools. His face was full of certain sympathy as he said, "nooope, ain't got no tools here miss, sorry." Mm.. but there were cookies, bread, and bananas.. what could I get for Shaun and I. No.. not yet.

I went out with grief. Thinking of my options.. a lot of trucks were coming into the gas station so I could ask them for a lift to the city, if it was possible. Or maybe tools! I could go to the neighbouring houses on the street and see if they themselves had any tools.. or maybe a lift as well! The sun was starting to get lower than before (how obvious), but the winds started to pick up and have a cool tinge to them - rain would come sometime in the night - so in desperation I started again to use the wrench as an allan key substitute. Out from no where, as my back was turned, an angel came, "Do you need any help with your bike?" Oh hell YES I MUTHA FUCKIN DOOO! I told him what was up with my pedal, and he did a little poking around with the mechanical situation. "Hey, Tommy!" (I don't actually remember the name) He's calling back to the other guy in the truck. "Do we got any allan keys?" "I unno, check the tool box over here." Hold on, lemme check he says. Oh sweet jesus, I'm feeling a bit fine. Like some diamonds are being fluttered on my chest, like iron is being taking out of my lungs, my soul is starting to glitter like that Edward from that Vampire series. I'm looking at the pedal, back turned to the road, when another angelic voice calls to me, "Oh, ah - WOW." It's Shaun. He's came and smiling and I'm smiling. I give him the low down, on how the gas station has no tools, but that the shirtless guy over there came up to see if I was having bike problems, and is now currently searching for the tools. Better much than fucking luck he returns with larger allan keys. The first one doesn't fit, but the neexxttt onnee DOES! He does the good old righty tighty, and I send him words of love, which fit in my actual words of, "FUCKING SAWEEET!" As he's walking away, he's feeling like a really good fucking guy. And how not? I'm fucking excited. My bikes fucking fixed. I don't need to hitch hike, nor walk. And we're so much closer than before. We're more than half the way home. It went from a 5 hour journey of doom, to a half hour of jolly joy wholefulness. We buy a loaf of banana bread, and gingerbread cookies, and eat and drink and as soon as I lay down we get up and go. But not before I fill in the air to my two tires. Blessed bike, how I count on thee.

Ah damn, So good to be back on the road again. How am I happy about it now? How? Because it fucking felt awesome. My pannier bags got caught on my back wheel, and Shaun behind, I could hear calling out with surprise and a smile, "WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH!" Travelling on the road along side with passing cars, on a bike that's broken down a bit, I mean.. c'mon bags, let's not get caught in my back wheel and potentially ruin it's rim, or have me tossed onto the road.. or life-forbid, the bike.

But it was cool. Just fixed that bag, and we kept on. We found ourselves as a wrong turn though. Well not wrong turn, but a different turn. Kinda felt like a labrinyth in the way.. in theory and logically it felt like the correct way, simply so - but some road did something, blah-da-yadda-yadda, we got some directions at a Subway and off we went. Finding ourselves ons Herring Cove, we did a dive thru the rotary turning right, and right quick and hard. Shaun later said to me he knew I would be nervous going down it, but he knew if he just went fast, that I would too. Fucking right he was. I thought he was crazy for going that fast down into the rotary. But I had little knowledge of the road's lay out. I had thought that we would need to turn into the rotary, but we didn't, it was simply just a keep-to-the-right sorta deal. I knew the people in the cars behind us were going, "man, I wish I was on a bike right now, going down this." Because the wind was flowing through our hair and flapping on our loose clothing, and so fucking quick and fast we were zipping, our bodies were angled forwards with our heads down, we were zipping by. Fucking fuck it was fun.

Going up the hill was aight as well. I got off and walked it up a bit, whilst Shaun was going on his low gear, which was walking speed. I got back on the bike before the top of the levelout, and it was strangely difficult. Hmm, was I tired? Or was the bike just frictiony right now? Even stranger was the distance that Shaun was behind me. But, whatever to that mystery of life. He caught up later and shouted to me that he had wanted to go to Quinpool, and asked if I had wanted to come with. Pfft, fuck no, you think I like spending time with you?! Mm.. But it was a quick turn left from the opposite side of the street, and opening had occurred on the Quinpool street. We went in, left the bikes as is (I was a little apprehensive, for my cellphone was in the bag) but we quickly grabbed pizza and boxes of almond milk and were out. The bags and helmets and shirt still on the bike! Good feelings all around!

I ended up seeing the beautiful Olivia, HI OLIVIA! On the street. And it just always makes my fucking day. It's like having a dose of shugar, being offered a free slice of mango. Finding a ripe 5 dollar bill in an old pair of jeans, it's like.. side walk hallelujah. But Shaun still had things to do and our day's plans were dividing us apart, but not really... and we separated. With NSCAD, work, pretzels, potlocks, and sleep in mind.

Shaun was worrying for a while about how much time for himself he would have to accomplish the things for which he intented initially to follow through. But I had reminded him, that there was a moment he said whilst standing in the Atlantic ocean for the second time, that that was where he wanted to be, and so thus, regret not what is happening now.

It all is turning out swell for right now. All is going along as all would.

We had pizza, and separated at the Citadel hill. "Love love" and "Love you too" being the last words of separation as he cycled up to the top of citadel, and I along the side :)

I slept for 12 hours that night, having a movie playing to keep my ambient company.

Give me a biketh, I shall rideth.

Old Dependable, The Stallion, Luck.

I found The Stallion in the trash some time ago. 2 years? 3? It was in March, and I was on Mdma. Since then it's had many jobs done to it, each time by a different person, all cursing the person before, and all saying, "it needs more help." Never perfect. But never far from perfect.

Right now the hub gear, which is apart of the back wheel is messed up. Internally, pieces of metal are catching onto it, and riding it, says Ideal Bikes, is iffy. I took it once around the patio of my apartment building, and it's done enough for me to be okay with it. I will have two wrenches, two socks, and a good pair of shoes. My shoes won't even have shoe laces in them. It's on the fence, it's very much so on the fence. Will it work or won't it. I know I will be riding it, and I know I will be going on this trip. Another thing that worries me is driving on the road on a friday night on illfully lit countryesque roads. They're country esque, because it's along the shore south of Halifax, no ways we're going inland.

I'm excited.

I don't even know where to go.

But I will.

In one hour and a half is when Shaun gets off work.

I have a single gear bike, and I usually don't switch gears anyways (or I wouldn't before) but I believe that the tension isn't too good. Why? Why..

Anywho, time to poo

Over a cup of Coffee

Marena went out last night on her own! I don't even know with whom. I feel satisfied. I don't know if being a social butterfly is cool with her, but boy do I recommend it to people. Either-wise, you're krept up alone talking to yourself, or only to those few with whom you already know, and the tiny bubble that you leave for yourself gets agitated, quickly. No release. No different things are happening.. and you can't always depend on the same people. So I felt satisfied.

Shuan and I yesterday spoke about us. It was nice, and frightening. As I was sitting on the toilet this morning, moments ago, I was reflecting on those instances that have occurred between someone and I that shoots up a red flag in my head. For Robin, he said while we were having sex that he gets possessive and jealous- umm, not now please, and not ever for that fact. Sam was filled with red flags, but the largest was his incapability to socialize comfortably. Jake didn't want to share his eggs one morning, got no consideration, and his bed sheets were god fucking awful dirty. It's not like these things in themselves are reasons, but they stem from a source in their personality, which doesn't grow well with a source from mine.

I always covet the ability (with great ignorance of all else this brings) to be all knowing. To partake in something that will end, to live life dead, to be in a relationship already broken up. As a finite being, with barely the comprehension of a second, I only exist in the present moment. And this is frightening because, I think that I want to know where things will go. The illusion I feed myself is that this will bring me emotional security. But hell, I can't even stick with eating the same thing three days in a row, where things are planned.. mm... I don't know. Not only would my emotions be different, that's for sure.

With Dylan I had no cringe of, hey let's be together forever. Because I knew where my direction was, east, and his was to stay. Rationality was highly strung in that meeting. If both our daily lives were proche a l'autre, puis, nous pourrions see each other. But there even was a tiniest of a red flag that came up with him too. He was very much an equal leader, and that's good, but I had a vision of him being a wife beater. But I think I see everyone as a beater.

I'll look into the faces of the people I know, and I have them wear their anger. Their, 'WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?!" face. I am fairly much scared of people getting angry at me. I of course get angry at people too, but I wonder if someone "starts it first." I'm unsure if it is me that does something that correctly incites anger in another person. Now read that sentence as, I'm unsure if it is me that does something that understandably incites anger in another person.

Words are fucked up. And their meanings are made up of chance I feel. Whatever I'm trying to say too. It's either that at this moment right now, as I can see the characters taking optical shape on the screen, it's either that I want to understand, or I want to be correct with another person.

Live life dead
Love with loss
Smile knowing Anger.

Are any of those passable as truths? Does any one really want to think about how someone could freak out on them, hit them, (the physics are there + the uncertainty), to know that their anger could so rightfully and instinctually be exposed. I am on this boat on the reverse to others, and I know at times I wouldn't mind, given the opportunity. But, well I guess it's passable if one passes, "accept others, all of others," sort of understanding. Only in as much as it doesn't hurt you. But also don't have things hurt you where they don't need to, don't let things affect you personally (most times they mustn't be by your presence. Y'know.) But also take things with a grain of salt. And no one controls their life, or the people around them, so only let opportunities be seen. Of course the 'choice' is always there, as you may choose to interpret my usage of choice with or without the single quotation marks..

If I am to stick by to my thoughts, or the thoughts that I've read, you only live in the moment, and I don't necessarily want to be anxious, or only made up of molecules that want something that just shouldn't (i.e. waking up married with kids, what the fuck?) not tarnishing the value in that experience, but I am not there, I am here. Only here, I think. So.. I'll put that away for when it manifests around me, instead of within me. aHm. Live in the moment, I m in the moment. At this moment, I just want to meditate and wander..

But within the moment. :p

As if a title could be adequate

When you're so excited about someone that you don't tell them and then you solidify. A diamond of joy. But I'm more like a crystal, I don't know what the hardness relationship between a crystal and a diamond is, or if a crystal is on the way to becoming a diamond or something.. but I mean. How I feel right now about someone is a crystal, but it has not withstood the amount of time and pressure to technically be classified as a diamond. "Technically."

It makes me not want to paint, not want to wait. Neither to menstrate or to hate.
Makes me wanna have hands outstretched, makes me wanna have no breath.

Breathe breathe, relax and just please.
Don't go so fast, make it last.
The best, is the oldest cheeeeeeeeseee.

We'll wine and dine and next time you'll know you'll be mine.

Say yes to opportunities and lose control.

The silent yeller

I've spent a lot of time away from the homestead in the last week or so - which has been very nice. Like very nice. I've heard stories of other people's difficulties that echo mine that I keep in - that I don't plan on giving them light here - which is very nice.

I was thinking about how much I listen to others, or have been in the past week, and a couple of times they have cut me off whilst I was saying something. And I was.. wondering about this. What does this mean in particular, if anything? Or if I dare even try to construct assumptions out of this?

At this moment I've had some fleeting moments, here and there, thinking lowly on the act of listening. Am I merely a silent sack of shit following other people, listening to them, so that I am not left alone? Do people listen to me? Well, in all fairness, I don't spew out words to folks - because it's nerve racking really. I've found safety (in a way) when it comes to me thinking and typing out to myself (although this is public), but I am still capable of using offensive language about myself. So the apple hasn't even fallen off the tree..

And you know what, I am sure that people don't mind listening, I have... one, two, 3, 4 - 5 (?), I'm going to say 7. Seven people who I feel comfortable.. or... if it's comfortable, maybe 5.5, fuck eh.. 5.5 people I feel comfortable just talking to, when I do.

Which isn't all too bad, I mean, I didn't even include myself there (hah-hah.)

I've always been perplexed about the reactionary energy I've received from others - in terms of the things I've made. Do they not believe that I could have done it? Do I not look like one who would not construct such imagery & things? And then while walking I fell into the thought of, "Haha! Fuckers, yeah! There's another thing - don't fucking assume who or what I am capable of based on what I look like to you." And I had this bubble of rage from them. They're calling me asian and shit, and oh man.. openning that bottle of past-mm..-distaste. Fucking distasteful. But I mean.. Maybe I've done it too.

Then I thought, maybe they think that I'm not able to put out contrasty and whatever such descriptions may be made to the things I make, because I am .. kinda passive. A listener (at recent times at least), just a .. silent observer at times. That as soon as I use neon it's like, "what the fuck?" From where did it come?! And I can get behind that - sure.