A Poem For the Director

As we lie in our solitary beds
a hundred-thousand light-years away from each-other
I want nothing more than to lie with you
to feel your flesh
on my fingertips

So I never sleep at night
I lie and think of your soft skin
and the endless depth of your eyes
I lie overwhelmed with dreams of you
imagining what you would feel like in my bed
Because what I want
What I honestly want
is to steal you and tuck you under my sheets

As hours pass
and days and months
I lie in bed
And lie to my body and my soul
attempting to avoid walking to where you are
and taking you back to my bed

***

It's been days, months, years
It's been decades, centuries, a millennia since I've seen you
yet you're in my mind
despite the distance

A Poem For Matthew and the Proverbial Today

It's not what yesterday was
Nor 'morrow shall be
'Tis today I do not know

- 1991kmh

A Post For Today

I was forgiven.

-1991kmh

"Something Else" by Gary Jules

They never tell you truth is subjective
They only tell you not to lie
They never tell you there's strength in vulnerability
They only tell you not to cry

But I've been living underground
Sleeping on the way
And finding something else to say
Is like walking on the freeway

They never tell you you don't need to be afraid
They only tell you to deny
So is it true that only good girls go to heaven?
They only sell you what you buy

But I've been living underground
Sleeping on the way
And finding something else to say
Is like walking on the freeway


I've been living underground
Trying not to burn
And finding something else to learn
At Hollywood and western

A Poem For a Saturday Night

As we sat on the couch
a million miles away from one another
I wanted nothing more than to sit with you
to feel your body
even just your elbow or your knee

So I never shut the fuck up
I spilled my life story
all the dirty details
Because as long as my mouth was moving
I wasn't moving closer to you
and my mouth wasn't closing over yours
Because what I wanted
What I honestly wanted
was to kiss all your breath away

As hours passed
in what seemed like seconds and years
And we lay in bed
I lay awake
attempting to avoid grabbing you into my arms
and making you mine

-1991kmh

"You and I" by Ingrid Michaelson

Don't you worry, there my honey
We may not have any money
But we've got our love to pay the bills
Maybe I think you're cute and funny
Maybe I want to do what bunnies do with you
If you know what I mean

Oh, let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France
Let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance
Let's get rich and build a house on a mountaintop
Making everybody look like ants from way up there,
You and I, you and I

Well you might be a bit confused
And you might be a little bit bruised
But, baby how we spoon like no one else
So I will help you read those books
If you will soothe my worried looks
And we will put the lonesome on the shelf

Oh, let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France
Let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance
Let's get rich and build a house on a mountaintop
Making everybody look like ants from way up there,
You and I, you and I

Oh, let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France
Let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance
Let's get rich and build a house on a mountaintop
Making everybody look like ants from way up there,
You and I, you and I

A Post For a Change of Venue

So, we're moving in to the apartment on the first of March. Yay! Everything has been discussed and is now officially figured out. Although Carol will be around most of the time, I've got the distinct idea that I'm going to be bored and lonely. But, I'm pretty psyched. Initially I had mixed emotions about moving out but I'm pretty fucking psyched now. Livin' on Lonsdale. Three seconds walk from work. Three seconds walk from Matthew's parents' house. Not to mention, Carol is awesome! I don't know what else to say right now. Oh, other than, all I have is a bed, a bookshelf, clothes, and towels. *Hint, hint* That is all.

-1991kmh

A Poem For Spyro

Alas! one green gem
Or two red ones - goddammit -
Nowhere to be found

-1991kmh

A Post For Being Stoned

Matthew's here.
He's playing Warcraft 3 on his laptop and I'm writing a blog post (apparently) on my parents' computer. We're listening to reggae, potentially to his dismay. Meh, Bob Marley and Lauryn Hill have been making the last few days bearable. Half an hour or so ago I attempted to listen to Damien Rice's cover of Leonard Cohen's song "Hallelujah". Good artist singing a good cover of another good artist's song sounds like a good idea, right? Wrong. As it happens, I'd over-looked my previous emotional reactions to Damien Rice and Leonard Cohen, and especially, to the song "Hallelujah". Anyway, I've again fallen back on Bob and Lauryn. Or, in the matter of this particular song, Lauryn and Ziggy. Because as unbelievably depressing as some of these songs are, they can always make me feel better. Perhaps because I'm imagining being stoned in Jesse Hefling's car with Adrienne Arsenault last year. Perhaps because I'm imagining being stoned in Jamaica. Who fucking knows?
So, my parents and sisters have been out of town for the last two weeks. They were expected to come home today however now my nine-year-old sister, Rachel (AKA Pooh) is in the hospital in Montreal. She is dehydrated and hooked up to an IV. She's been there for three days and the doctor seems to be reluctant to send her home, especially on a eleven-hour car ride. In any case, the family doesn't seem to be coming home today. As long as Pooh is getting better, I don't mind being alone for a little while longer.
I've given up hope on reggae. It stopped making me happy. So I'm listening to Leonard Cohen because he's fucking God. Blasphemy makes it all okay. Haha. P.S. Although this all sounds very depressed, it's not. Okay? Okay. Good.

-1991kmh

A Post For Hopelessness

I

I feel like I am
Limited by this format
In expressing life

II

Listening to Bob
And Lauryn sing about life
Makes me miss living

III

I thought I was past
This shit that I've always done
And am doing now

-1991kmh

A Post For a New Friend, an Old Friend, and a New Friend

It's been an entirely eventful week.
First of all, although this has been previously mentioned, my new friend, Dee, slept over on Saturday night. It was absolutely amazing and my awe hasn't quite worn down at this point. Dee is one of the most wonderful people I've ever had the pleasure and the privilege of spending the night with.
Secondly, on Monday morning I received a pleasantly surprising telephone call from my best friend in Fredericton, Kaitlyn.
Kaitlyn: I'm at the bus station.
Kaitlin: Oh yeah? Where're you going?
Kaitlyn: Your house.
Kaitlin: HOLYFUCKINGSHITMOTHAFUCKINJESUSFUCKINGCHRIST!!!
So obviously I had the coolest possible week of all time. We did the same old thing, being the same thing we did all summer, in the old days. We ate pizza, smoked cigarettes, and watched the L Word. It was absolutely fabulous.
Thirdly, I'm moving out! Pretty fucking sweet, right? Next week. Que gasps. On Lonsdale with my friend, and supervisor, Carol.
Woah, that was all I had to say.

-1991kmh

A Poem For the Congregation

Thousands of flowers
Bowing their heads in a field
With a word, they rise

-1991kmh

A Post For an Empty Bottle of Green Shit

My new friend, most definitely, Dee, came over to my house at midnight. It was not a typical initial encounter. We immediately acted as though we'd been close friends for quite a while. There was no awkward conversation or uncomfortable silence. It was pretty fucking sweet. Neither of us shut the fuck up until five or six in the morning when we fell asleep. As it happens, I divulged a hefty portion of my life's story onto her plate. I like to think I listened just about as much as I spoke. In any case, I had an exceptionally good time and was blown away to discover she was even more excellent IRL than on Facebook.

I wanted to write
A haiku for Dee - my friend -
But I'm no poet

Oh, and, my boyfriend came home at about eleven o'clock this morning. I fucking missed him something terrible. I must admit that I was grumpy. I can't deny that I was a tad mad for no particular reason. There were a few things that we needed to talk about... and we did. Everything is better now. Rather, everything has resumed being extraordinary.
Anyway, I'm going to go play Spyro on my boyfriend's PlayStation. There are no Fire Temples, thank the Lord.

-1991kmh

A Post For Wikipedia

Okay, my last attempt didn't epically fail and I am still quite bored. The cigarettes didn't particularly aid my situation. I'm in a better mood now though. Thank God. Glee's mood seems to be improving for now. However, if it takes a turn for the worse, I'm gonna have to listen to, like, High School Musical. There is nothing happier than a movie about high school students who have never experienced a single discomfort. Oh, I'm sorry, the lost a basketball game once, didn't they? No? Oh, well, there. Case and point.
Like I said, I'm feelin' exponentially (exaggeration) better. I'm Wikipediaing. An interesting enough pastime. I always finish somewhere miles away from where I began. This time, I began at Carucage, today's featured article, and at this point, I've arrived at the Surgeon General. Good times.
So, I'm thinking about getting a tattoo next week. I don't know what I want. I have two tattoos and I didn't preconceive either of them. Then again, one is in memory of a deceased friend that I got while as high as a kite when I was fifteen. The other is a deformed figure that was supposed to be an angel. I procured that tattoo in my friend, Kendra's, basement at two o'clock in the morning. She pulled out a pen, a pin, a spool of thread, and a bottle of Indian ink and I knew I was in for a good night. In any case, I'm thinking about getting a tattoo. I'm not thinking about what to get, simply whether or not I want to put up the cash for it.
An update on my Wikipedian adventure: Alaska.
The French couple who reside across the street from my house are having a party. There are nine cars in their driveway, excluding the two belonging to them. Their enthusiastic French friends go outside to smoke cigarettes and speak LOUDLY every ten minutes or so. Their smoke breaks seem to synchronize with mine rather nicely. So the quiet of the suburban night is being LOUDLY interrupted. Meh, they have friends, who am I to playa-hate?
I'm gonna go attempt to translate their conversation. Perhaps I'll find some entertainment. I do know three or four French words, after all. And fragmented conversation is sometimes an improvement on the conversation around my neck of the woods.

-1991kmh

A Post For Glee

I'm going to attempt to actually write a blog post as if it were actually a blog by blog standards. Do blogs have standards? Apparently not based on a few (hundred) of the blogs I've read. Discluding, of course, Dee's and Jenn's. So, I'm supposed to write about my life, right? I'm possibly, probably doing this wrong. Okay, I'll write about what I'm doing at the moment. Here it goes.
I'm doing absolutely nothing of any value. I'm listening to the Official Glee Soundtrack. I've been listening to sad songs all day because I'm fucking sad. As it happens, sad songs didn't resolve my predicament. So, I figured, what's happy? Glee, right? It's called Glee, for Chris'sakes. I was wrong. Half of the songs are pleasant enough. A few of 'em are even nearly ecstatic. However, the other fifty percent of the songs are fucking depressing.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not depressed ( rather, I'm bored and lonely) and I like Glee as much as the next teenage girl. I watched my fair share of episodes on Wednesday evenings. And I was momentarily disappointed by the hiatus. Nevertheless, there are shows that I expect to have emotional lows on occasion but to remain fairly statically high. I was under the misconception that Glee was one of those shows. Boy was I wrong.
So I'm sitting here listening to fucking sad songs.
Anyway, the reason I'm sitting in my parents' house, alone, on the computer on a mothafuckin' Saturday night is simple enough. First of all, my whole, entire family is in Montreal for two weeks. Secondly, my boyfriend is in Fredericton visiting *our* friends. Without me? Yes, without me. Goddammit. I obviously cannot resent him for it. It's his birthday weekend and I was previously scheduled to work yesterday and tomorrow.
I don't have any friends in particular in Moncton. At least, not any friends who I spend time with on a regular basis (AKA at all). I do have a new friend, Dee, or someone with the potential to be a friend, I'd reckon. We have several mutual friends so, sometime recently, I added her on Facebook. We've been inbox messaging and, as it happens, have quite a bit in common. Score. However, our half-hearted attempts at making plans have all failed at this point. Therefore, I remain, sitting at my parents' computer.
The internet's been a good friend of late. There is never a shortage of fucking insane shit to discover. Although, I must admit, it's been lacking the shock value of the past. I added four Facebook applications last night. Conformity seemed like a popular method of escape from boredom and loneliness. Well, apparently not. It would seem as though even the people who look as though they're doing something acceptable with their time are as bored as shit because these applications do little more (understatement) than waste time. Then again, what the fuck else is there? I can't be social and I can't be anti-social. There's no winning, it would seem. I'd reckon the people spending their days (and particularly their nights) smoking crack in their basements are the ones with the right idea. Because then at least there is the presence of something to feel like something important. That statement made no sense but fuck it, this is a blog, nothing is required to make a whole lot of sense. What I meant was that those with addictions don't suffer from boredom in the same way as those without physical vices.
Anyway, I'm gonna go outside and chain smoke in an attempt to trick my mind into thinking I'm doing something important. Wish me luck.
Happy birthday, Matthew.

-1991kmh

A Post For Dee

- Name 3 general tasks you're good at:
+ Googling
+ Facebooking
+ Navigating the internet other than Google and Facebook

- What is your most interesting nickname?
Soup

- Name 3 general tasks you suck at:
+ Applying cosmetics
+ Laundry other than sorting, washing, and drying
+ The Fire Temple in Zelda: Ocarina of Time

- Name your top 5 People (family doesn't count):
+ Cara
+ Dylan
+ Emkay
+ Katie
+ Matthew
Honorary mention: Dee

- If you had to get married tomorrow, who would it be to?
Matthew

- If you know any immigrants, which one would you deport if you could?
I don't support deportation.

- Who is your best friend and how did you meet?
My best friend is Cara. We met on the school-bus in October 2006. We has both been dating the same boy, Devin, and neither of us knew his last name. She turned around on the school-bus and asked me whether or not I knew his last name. I didn't. And the rest, as they say, is history.

- Who was your first kiss?
Joshua Vachon, in his parent's basement in Cape Breton. I was five or six, I'd reckon.

- If you had to choose between Utah and Alaska which would it be?
Alaska because I have endless respect for Sarah Palin and I want to be able to see Russia. Haha.

- What is your funniest joke?
I'm not particularly funny. And I don't have "jokes".

- What is your least likable quality?
Until recently, I've had a tendency to always do what was easiest for me, regardless of its effect on others.

- What do you admire about yourself?
I'm happy.

- What is your favorite food?
Potato chips.

- If you could pick one person to bake into a pie and eat (in a bad way), who would it be?
Is it possible to bake a person into a pie in a good way? Probably not. I wouldn't bake a person into a pie in any case.

- What is your favorite song?
Right now, "Daedalus" by Thrice or "Orca" by Wintersleep, I'd reckon.

- What is your favorite movie?
The list is TOO LONG to post here. Although, I want to watch Spirited Away at the moment.

- What makes you mad?
Chemical imbalances, theoretically.

- What makes you cry?
Film, literature, and music.

- If you had to be an immigrant, where would you be from?
Canada. Do you see what I did there?

- Would you ever get divorced?
No.

- Who was your first love?
Katie McNutt or Kyra Sewell.

- What is the stupidest thing someone has ever done to you?
I don't know. I'm not one to judge.

- What is the funniest thing you have ever done?
Oh fuck. I'm not funny. Anybody know if I've ever done anything funny?

- Are you an angry person?
Not at all, no.

- Where are you right now?
My parents' house.

- What are you going to be doing this time next year?
Being married.

- Name 7 turn offs in the opposite sex:
Negativity. That's about it.

- Name 7 turn ons:
+ Charisma
+ Creativity
+ Honesty
+ Intelligence
+ Patience
+ Sense of humor
+ And a fine balance of humility and pride

- Name 3 people you would like to see forced to change baby's bums all day every day and why:
None.

- What makes you uncomfortable?
I can't think of a single thing. Except, perhaps, being in a room with two different people with whom I've been intimate.

- Where do you do most of your shopping?
I don't shop. Oh, the Esso on Lonsdale. I purchase cigarettes and potato chips there.

- If you have one...what is your style?
Lazy as shit.

- You are 25%...
Heterosexual

- You are 50%...
Matthew... his better half

- You are 10%...
Hydrogen

- You are 15%...
The game

- What is your dream?
To be mentioned in Dee's Oscar acceptance speech.

- Where will you be in 10 years?
Somewhere, anywhere, with Matthew and our family.

- What is your biggest regret?
No regrets.

- Who is the best blogger to ever exist?
Jennifer, so obvious.

-1991kmh

A Post For Dee and Google

At the suggestion of my newest friend, Dee, I typed my name (first and last) into the Google image search engine. These were the results:



Google fail.

-1991kmh

P.S. Check out Dee's blog @ http://alex-pipes.blogspot.com/

A Short Story For Matthew (Part One)

"I'm not afraid of anything."
"You've gotta be... everybody's scared of something."
"I'm not everybody."
Jim sighed resignedly.
Zana smiled victoriously.
He placed a small piece of spotted paper in the palm of her outstretched hand.
She inspected it, holding it tightly between her forefinger and thumb. She held it close to her nose and inhaled.
Jim raised his eyebrow.
"Smells lovely."
"You're fucked."
"Not yet!" Zana raised the paper in her hand. "Cheers!" She placed it on her fingertip and dropped it softly on her outstretched tongue.
Jim stared at Zana for a moment, frowning. He finally smiled and followed suit.
"How long Jimmy?"
"Not long."
"What do we do now?"
"Now... we wait."
"I hate waiting."
Jim got up off the floor and stood with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked solemnly down at the petite figure sitting on the carpet in his apartment.
Zana sat cross-legged on the floor and rocked back and forth. She grabbed her bag from the chair to her left. She rooted around and with a triumphant "Ah ha!" extracted a spiral-bound notebook. The cover was plastered with glitter and rainbow star-shaped stickers. She opened it to a seemingly random page somewhere in the middle of the notebook. She scribbled on it, glanced at her wristwatch, and scribbled again.

-1991kmh

A Toast to Kyra

Well then, there is only one thing to do.

I would like to propose a toast.

To the past.
To the present.
And to, most of all, the future.

To love…
May it always be true.

To friendship…
True friendship that never fades.

And to losers…
That’s how it all began.

“It’s better to burn out, than to fade away.”

I love you, sweetheart.

-1991kmh

"Past the Point of Rescue" by Hal Ketchum

Last night I dreamed you were back again
Larger than life again, holding me tight again
Placing those same kisses on my brow
Sweeter than ever now, lord I remember how
Couldn't get enough of kissing, do you know how much you're missing
No you don't, but I do

The days like a slow train trickle by
And even the words that I write refuse to fly
All I can hear is your song haunting me
Can't get the melody out of my head, you see
Distractions are amusing, do you know how much you're losing
No you don't, but I do

But I do, and I wonder if I'm past the point of rescue
Is no word from you at all the best that you can do
I never meant to push or shove you, do you know how much I love you
No you don't, but I do

I swore I'd never fall like this again
Fools like me never win, came to my knees again
Can't close the door on likely hood
Things might be just as good, I always believed they would
Gotta let your love invite me, baby do you think it might be
No you don't, but I do

But I do, and I wonder if I'm past the point of rescue
Is no word from you at all the best that you can do
I never meant to push or shove you, do you know how much I love you
No you don't, but I do

But I do, and I wonder if I'm past the point of rescue
Is no word from you at all the best that you can do
I never meant to push or shove you, do you know how much I love you
No you don't, but I do
I know you don't, but I do
I know you don't, but I do

A Poem For Matthew and May 3rd, 2008

2.5 kilometers;
30 minutes;
1 million worms;
2 blisters;
1 proposition;
10 thousand raindrops;
3 party invitations;
8 cigarettes;
3 tears;
4 photographs;
17 ghosts/shadows;
50 milligrams of Seroquel;
1.5 dead animals;
14 knocks on the door;

And then I was home.

-1991kmh

A Poem For War

I felt the word in my mouth,
like a stone,
cold,
hard,
rough,
and turning over slowly,
scraping my mouth,
my cheeks,
my gums,
my tongue.
There is no word for it in our language,
no need for a word.
It tastes metallic,
like copper or blood.

-1991kmh

A Poem For a Woman Downtown

She walks downtown
One city
One block
One street
One sidewalk

She walks in stilettos
Left heel
Left toe
Right heel
Right toe

She works downtown
Amsterdam
New York
Pattaya
Tokyo

She works for men
Look
Touch
Give
Receive

She gets paid money
Earns
Spends
Gains
Loses

And she walks the streets

-1991kmh

A Poem For Nikolai

He's a young boy
And an old man
With a smile full of blissful summer
And eyes plagued with the decay of age
He's wise beyond his eighteen years;
A good fellow
With poetry on his tongue
He opens his mouth
And as he speaks,
With ease,
He causes laughter to erupt in bursts
He's just a funny guy
To those who don't bother
To get to know him better
He's a fellow
Who never receives all he deserves
A guy
Who is never given the love he's due
He has a dream in his heart
Of a perfect life
With a perfect girl
Who loves him even more
Than anyone or anything
Knowing his worth
More than diamonds;
More than gold;
More than the whole, entire world
He's a good friend
The best kind to be
And he deserves the same;
Deserves the kind of friendship he has to share
He's a lost soul
Who deserves at least
The missing pieces
Of the puzzle

E muja oui, Hegumye.

-1991kmh