Sunday, June 27, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Creative Writing Class (CULMINATING OUUU) :I'm much too concerned with other problems in the world to think of a clever title.
The world is a bridge built in the dark,
The people are Muffy Crosswire,
The people's minds are a same shade, never going any brighter nor any deeper,
And here I am, constantly questioning how the world works,
And why it feels like its been pieced together with staples and dried out glue,
And why can't I figure out a way to fix this?
It's June fifteenth and what am I doing?
The same thing I do everyday, the same thing that all of us are doing,
Complaining as much as Joe Matt in "Fairweather"
And spreading rumours like a deck of cards,
I'd prefer a place where we'd be different but we're all the same,
We're all just fictions, copying each other's actions.
Both the skinny girl and the big girl are scared,
Since there's over a thousand calories in a large tripe thick shake at Mc Donald's,
And a daily dose of a vitamin water will result in thirteen pounds on their bodies this year,
The nerd and the jock are so angry with the commercials put out there,
Thinking no girls will do them because of the acne on their faces.
I hate trying to live up to the media's standards,
Saddening, hearing about this guy super soaking,
If a woman is really willing to have sex with THIS guy, I wouldn't be calling her a ho..
Maybe if you were really trying to find the words to describe your girl without being disrespectful you wouldn't call her a sexy BITCH,
Listen up artists. Shut the fuck up,
Promoting violence over a girl that doesn't want you, or some person you just really hate?
Teens Kill Man Over iPod, Really?
Your ears will make love when you put George Harrison in them,
In a country where dropping bombs is like a casual hello,
Why are fingers pointed at Marilyn, South Park and video games,
When kids start shooting up at school?
We're taught not to have sex unless a band is on our finger,
Sure, they want us to follow our religion,
But they're forgetting that kids don't listen,
So teach us how to put a rubber on,
Because kids having kids isn't how it should be.
My body shakes like it's in a tin can,
As I see people try harder to get into someone's jeans rather than their heart,
Their minds are drenched in dirt, like a dog left out in the rain,
Everything sounding so perverse, boy I've got a boner to pick with this,
Seeing the way you react after reading "A Perfect day for Bananafish,"
I'll be the first to admit that it's a struggle trying to be serious through,
Not mentioning my menstrual cycles has been hard enough,
What's more disgusting though?
A love for tampons or a donkey being raped by a man?
I'm straight, but my mind's not narrow,
I don't need a religion telling me what love is,
I don't need a bunch of old white men telling me what beautiful means,
They'll be laughing up in stitches as they demolish your beauty glitches,
Deleting your dollars due to distortion,
Placing your payment into their palms,
And they're still laughing.
Feel that pain across your chest as the bullet sneaks away into your skin,
Tilting your head back as the lights go dim,
Shadows replacing the people your eyes saw a minute ago
Smelling the smoke, smells so harsh and dry,
You cough, sticky liquid oozes from your throat out to tickle your tongue,
Runs down your lips,
"Yeah motherfucker, that's what you get for takin' our dough,"
Take our cash, kill our world, we're slowly dying,
Completely transforming, with acts we're performing leading to global warming,
He said "drill baby drill" now they're killin and spillin' on these krill,
Continuing to destroy.
Put the gun down, I know what can do a better job,
It can hit deeper into your skull, into your brain
Destroy and reproduce,
Stretch and spread across the room,
Leak into the cracks of the floor boards,
hit into the shadowy parts of the room where the dust dances,
Where the sun can't see,
Your words are stronger.
Changing is constant,
It is unavoidable,
Undeniable,
Sometimes unacceptable,
I don't like the me the world has to see,
I don't like the world I have to stand on,
I'm tired of being a carpet, cut into the place I should be in,
This world wasn't meant to make cleanliness and peace feel nostalgic,
Get out of this helter-skelter and know where we're going,
We are the water,
And to fill up a cup you need every single drop,
So when it gets half way don't question if it's half empty of half full,
Because we're getting every single drop into this thing.
Not to make us have the same dream, but to open us up,
Look past what they're teaching you,
Free your mind.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Me and my bitch (L).... you have to click on it... stupid blogspot.
Seventy year old men always compliment me on this lovely sweater.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Creative Writing Class: Meowmeowmeow - Fiction Unit
Day 7
To be honest, I'm getting fed up of playing with this piece of string. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten the sound of his voice, my purr even –because only his touch would make me do that. I hate to see my owner sad. Really, I hate when he feels bad; he could just meow a lot like I do, it’s always cheered me up. Please, just shake this string over my face. I don’t understand how it can just dangle off this thing…
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Day 1
Is today going to be the day, big boy? Yes. Today is the day the house turns from having two residents to having three. He has been staring at that little black box for a couple months now, slowly gaining the courage to go up and ask her. A homemade dinner lay out upon his table, with expensive wine glasses and a bottle of Champagne. He finally put that black dress shirt on, the one his mother picked out for this special date. The girl must be mad if she can’t tell from one look at him what he’s going to do. She’s always been a cool girl; never nagged about him wearing sweats everyday, even when she brought him to church with her mother. It’s wonderful to see him out of them. He shook as he poured milk into my saucer. While nudging his pant leg with my head, I heard him dial the phone with a nervous voice saying she should come over.
Once he heard a knock at the door, he shoved the box into his pocket and rushed to the door. He tried welcoming her in; moving his lips close to her’s, but she moved her head and became out of his reach.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She nodded with a frozen scared expression. “… It’s my grandmother.”
“Is she—”
“No.”
“Coming close?”
“Afraid so.”
“How bad is it?”
“She could pass away any moment.”
He hugged her tightly, and said without letting go, “Are you going to Winnipeg then?”
“Yes.”
“Tonight?”
“Flight leaves at midnight.”
He let go of her body and grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry dear, we can do this when you get back.”
“I won’t be coming back.”
“I can go with y—” I rubbed body against him, knowing this would end terribly.
“Baby listen, it’s just that I—I really can’t focus on you right now, she really needs me.”
“But won’t you come back when she’s …”
A dirty look appeared on her face.
“Right… I’m sorry. It’s just…”
“Baby, you do mean a lot to me but she really needs me. I plan to get her better, and if not, I’ll have to live there with my granddad. It’s not like he’ll be very well if that happens. And I can’t just expect you to pack up and leave everything. Think about it; are we even that serious about each other? We never talked about marriage, it’s not like we were planning to be together forever, right?”
“Right.”
“I’ll miss you,” she said, moving his arm from her’s and hugging him.
“Right.”
My purring was the only sound through their five-minute stare. After a long heartless kiss, she walked down the hall quickly, knowing his eyes were on her. Once she left his sight, he slammed the door and walked in a slouch to the couch where he would sleep for fourteen hours.
Day 2
Why hasn’t he said a word? He didn’t even greet me this afternoon when he woke up. I’m probably better for him than she was, anyways. If he is this sad shouldn’t he go out and find another woman, the way the bunnies do? I really wish he’d stop moping around.
He keeps listening to the bitterest songs. They’re not helping him get over this at all. He should chase mice with me instead. He hasn’t even cleaned up the food, and when I try to eat it for him, he shoos me away. This isn’t the way to keep a memory of her.
Day 3
Why does he keep sleeping? He hasn’t fed me in two days and he hasn’t eaten anything either. Perhaps if he left the window open I could escape to catch the two of us a delicious bird dinner. That would definitely cheer him up. But how can he open it when he won’t get off the couch. He sleeps more than I do. If I licked him with my scratchy tongue, maybe that’s what it’d take for him to notice me… nope. Perhaps it’s time to bite him and taste his sour blood….
Day 4
Who is he talking to? I woke up in a curled up ball at the edge of his bed to find him kneeling against it, whispering with his hands folded.
“In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit…” is how he started off. “If she comes back I swear I’ll do anything. I’ll go to church. I’ll visit my mom. I won’t wank it to pictures over the Internet. Please, just please… I’ll do anything.”
He sobbed for hours after this. I searched the house looking for who he’s talking to. It’s impossible inspecting for invisible individuals.
Day 5
Why can’t he invite his sister over anymore? He should tell her to bring her Siamese cat, but leave the schnauzer at her place. He hasn’t called her up in months, because all of his focus was on his girlfriend. I miss the times he’d share new recipes with her, then he’d make them and give me a small bowl full of it. The lemon salmon and tuna casserole will always remain my favourites.
Thinking about those days makes me feel like I haven’t eaten in months. I miss the days when he came home from work with a big bag full of Meow mix and a box of beer. He would always let me lick the condensation off his bottles once he finished them. It was so cold and clean.
I wish he’d brush me soon. My fur is becoming very long and matted at a quick pace. It’s like a squirrel’s tail. It’s been building up and I’ve been trying to get the loose ones out but it’s quite hard when he won’t pet it off and let me shed all over him. He gets mad when I do it on the chesterfield so I guess I’ll just have to roll on the hardwood flooring, which I really hate doing.
Maybe he could call his buddy up. A simple gab about the weather would be just fine for my ears. I’ve beginning to forget how he speaks. Does he raise his voice at the end? What was that weird slang word he tried to make catch on but failed? I can’t even remember my own name.
Day 6
Is this possible? He speaks, he speaks! It’s unfortunate that he only shouted angry words filled with regrets of him not calling his girlfriend sooner and not going to Winnipeg with her.
He picked up his cell a dozen times within an hour to call her. He put speakerphone on; I loved the sound of the rings. Before each hello, he’d hang up immediately. He read his text to her aloud after rewriting it several times, even though it was simple and not cute at all: “What’s up?”
He spent five minutes constantly checking his phone as he lay on his bed next to me. The vibration finally buzzed and he read what she wrote to him to me, “My grandma died last night. Thanks for calling to ask, asshole.”
People never understand each other, but I get them. I can hear his self-hatred through the sound of his voice. He yelled louder than I’ve ever heard before, with words I’ve never heard before. One word sounded like duck, which reminded me, once again, of my everlasting hunger.
I rolled onto the floor, starved, and in my mind, I returned to my old home with my previous owner. He was a drunken single sixty year old that smelt like old milk and yelled like this on a daily basis. I was constantly in fear when he came home. I looked forward to the days where he’d forget to close the window, so I could escape. There was no way in hell that I was made for the outdoors, but when I had the choice of sitting in rain until dawn or have beer bottles being thrown inches away from my face, the wet and cold is what I’d choose. I hissed in pain when he kicked me. I surely had days where the thing I wanted most was to bleed. I constantly wished to be hurt and for it to show so someone could take me away and know what I’d been through. I didn’t hate that man at all for kicking me or blaming every problem on me. In fact, I wish I could stick it out and listen to him because I was the closest thing he had to a friend. But I can’t stand living in fear for my life. It was a beautiful day when he died; his son picked me up, fed me and brought me into his life.
I came out of my trance and found him doing the same thing now. The drunk’s son/my owner, walked over to me, picked me up and pet my fur. This is what I wanted. Because the drunk’s physical actions didn’t feel half as bad as his son’s emotional pain. Finally, he realizes what’s important in his life. He cooled down more and more with each stroke of my fur. After this, we destroyed his refrigerator. We practically ate everything in it. I’m pretty sure he fed me more than himself. I love him.
Day 7
…What’s wrong with him today? I thought yesterday would be the day he remembered me and how amazing I am. He has finally opened the door and stepped outside. I thought it would be super good for him but he’s been very boring this past hour.
He stepped onto the grass, which looked greener than it’s ever been and looked into the sky with an unreadable expression on his face. I looked into the sky but it was blinding since I’ve been trapped in the darkness for a week.
I leaned against him, he pet my head and my tail raised up to his kneecap, but he I could feel strong frustration in his touch.
There was a rather large beetle resting upon my paw, which distracted me from him for a good twenty minutes. Beetles are always hard to claw. I pranced around trying to eat it for that time. It was sweeter than the average beetle but I can’t help but wish I saw what my owner was doing.
Once I returned to the front yard, I was unable to find him at first. He’s a pretty tall man so this baffled me. But luckily, I found him an hour ago in a pretty odd place. I’m sitting on the lowest branch as he’s slightly lifted from the ground, hanging lifelessly. This is strange. He isn’t talking, as usual, but it looks like he’s not even breathing. I meowed him an “I love you”, just so he knows. But to be honest, I’m getting fed up playing with this piece of string.
To be honest, I'm getting fed up of playing with this piece of string. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten the sound of his voice, my purr even –because only his touch would make me do that. I hate to see my owner sad. Really, I hate when he feels bad; he could just meow a lot like I do, it’s always cheered me up. Please, just shake this string over my face. I don’t understand how it can just dangle off this thing…
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Day 1
Is today going to be the day, big boy? Yes. Today is the day the house turns from having two residents to having three. He has been staring at that little black box for a couple months now, slowly gaining the courage to go up and ask her. A homemade dinner lay out upon his table, with expensive wine glasses and a bottle of Champagne. He finally put that black dress shirt on, the one his mother picked out for this special date. The girl must be mad if she can’t tell from one look at him what he’s going to do. She’s always been a cool girl; never nagged about him wearing sweats everyday, even when she brought him to church with her mother. It’s wonderful to see him out of them. He shook as he poured milk into my saucer. While nudging his pant leg with my head, I heard him dial the phone with a nervous voice saying she should come over.
Once he heard a knock at the door, he shoved the box into his pocket and rushed to the door. He tried welcoming her in; moving his lips close to her’s, but she moved her head and became out of his reach.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She nodded with a frozen scared expression. “… It’s my grandmother.”
“Is she—”
“No.”
“Coming close?”
“Afraid so.”
“How bad is it?”
“She could pass away any moment.”
He hugged her tightly, and said without letting go, “Are you going to Winnipeg then?”
“Yes.”
“Tonight?”
“Flight leaves at midnight.”
He let go of her body and grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry dear, we can do this when you get back.”
“I won’t be coming back.”
“I can go with y—” I rubbed body against him, knowing this would end terribly.
“Baby listen, it’s just that I—I really can’t focus on you right now, she really needs me.”
“But won’t you come back when she’s …”
A dirty look appeared on her face.
“Right… I’m sorry. It’s just…”
“Baby, you do mean a lot to me but she really needs me. I plan to get her better, and if not, I’ll have to live there with my granddad. It’s not like he’ll be very well if that happens. And I can’t just expect you to pack up and leave everything. Think about it; are we even that serious about each other? We never talked about marriage, it’s not like we were planning to be together forever, right?”
“Right.”
“I’ll miss you,” she said, moving his arm from her’s and hugging him.
“Right.”
My purring was the only sound through their five-minute stare. After a long heartless kiss, she walked down the hall quickly, knowing his eyes were on her. Once she left his sight, he slammed the door and walked in a slouch to the couch where he would sleep for fourteen hours.
Day 2
Why hasn’t he said a word? He didn’t even greet me this afternoon when he woke up. I’m probably better for him than she was, anyways. If he is this sad shouldn’t he go out and find another woman, the way the bunnies do? I really wish he’d stop moping around.
He keeps listening to the bitterest songs. They’re not helping him get over this at all. He should chase mice with me instead. He hasn’t even cleaned up the food, and when I try to eat it for him, he shoos me away. This isn’t the way to keep a memory of her.
Day 3
Why does he keep sleeping? He hasn’t fed me in two days and he hasn’t eaten anything either. Perhaps if he left the window open I could escape to catch the two of us a delicious bird dinner. That would definitely cheer him up. But how can he open it when he won’t get off the couch. He sleeps more than I do. If I licked him with my scratchy tongue, maybe that’s what it’d take for him to notice me… nope. Perhaps it’s time to bite him and taste his sour blood….
Day 4
Who is he talking to? I woke up in a curled up ball at the edge of his bed to find him kneeling against it, whispering with his hands folded.
“In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit…” is how he started off. “If she comes back I swear I’ll do anything. I’ll go to church. I’ll visit my mom. I won’t wank it to pictures over the Internet. Please, just please… I’ll do anything.”
He sobbed for hours after this. I searched the house looking for who he’s talking to. It’s impossible inspecting for invisible individuals.
Day 5
Why can’t he invite his sister over anymore? He should tell her to bring her Siamese cat, but leave the schnauzer at her place. He hasn’t called her up in months, because all of his focus was on his girlfriend. I miss the times he’d share new recipes with her, then he’d make them and give me a small bowl full of it. The lemon salmon and tuna casserole will always remain my favourites.
Thinking about those days makes me feel like I haven’t eaten in months. I miss the days when he came home from work with a big bag full of Meow mix and a box of beer. He would always let me lick the condensation off his bottles once he finished them. It was so cold and clean.
I wish he’d brush me soon. My fur is becoming very long and matted at a quick pace. It’s like a squirrel’s tail. It’s been building up and I’ve been trying to get the loose ones out but it’s quite hard when he won’t pet it off and let me shed all over him. He gets mad when I do it on the chesterfield so I guess I’ll just have to roll on the hardwood flooring, which I really hate doing.
Maybe he could call his buddy up. A simple gab about the weather would be just fine for my ears. I’ve beginning to forget how he speaks. Does he raise his voice at the end? What was that weird slang word he tried to make catch on but failed? I can’t even remember my own name.
Day 6
Is this possible? He speaks, he speaks! It’s unfortunate that he only shouted angry words filled with regrets of him not calling his girlfriend sooner and not going to Winnipeg with her.
He picked up his cell a dozen times within an hour to call her. He put speakerphone on; I loved the sound of the rings. Before each hello, he’d hang up immediately. He read his text to her aloud after rewriting it several times, even though it was simple and not cute at all: “What’s up?”
He spent five minutes constantly checking his phone as he lay on his bed next to me. The vibration finally buzzed and he read what she wrote to him to me, “My grandma died last night. Thanks for calling to ask, asshole.”
People never understand each other, but I get them. I can hear his self-hatred through the sound of his voice. He yelled louder than I’ve ever heard before, with words I’ve never heard before. One word sounded like duck, which reminded me, once again, of my everlasting hunger.
I rolled onto the floor, starved, and in my mind, I returned to my old home with my previous owner. He was a drunken single sixty year old that smelt like old milk and yelled like this on a daily basis. I was constantly in fear when he came home. I looked forward to the days where he’d forget to close the window, so I could escape. There was no way in hell that I was made for the outdoors, but when I had the choice of sitting in rain until dawn or have beer bottles being thrown inches away from my face, the wet and cold is what I’d choose. I hissed in pain when he kicked me. I surely had days where the thing I wanted most was to bleed. I constantly wished to be hurt and for it to show so someone could take me away and know what I’d been through. I didn’t hate that man at all for kicking me or blaming every problem on me. In fact, I wish I could stick it out and listen to him because I was the closest thing he had to a friend. But I can’t stand living in fear for my life. It was a beautiful day when he died; his son picked me up, fed me and brought me into his life.
I came out of my trance and found him doing the same thing now. The drunk’s son/my owner, walked over to me, picked me up and pet my fur. This is what I wanted. Because the drunk’s physical actions didn’t feel half as bad as his son’s emotional pain. Finally, he realizes what’s important in his life. He cooled down more and more with each stroke of my fur. After this, we destroyed his refrigerator. We practically ate everything in it. I’m pretty sure he fed me more than himself. I love him.
Day 7
…What’s wrong with him today? I thought yesterday would be the day he remembered me and how amazing I am. He has finally opened the door and stepped outside. I thought it would be super good for him but he’s been very boring this past hour.
He stepped onto the grass, which looked greener than it’s ever been and looked into the sky with an unreadable expression on his face. I looked into the sky but it was blinding since I’ve been trapped in the darkness for a week.
I leaned against him, he pet my head and my tail raised up to his kneecap, but he I could feel strong frustration in his touch.
There was a rather large beetle resting upon my paw, which distracted me from him for a good twenty minutes. Beetles are always hard to claw. I pranced around trying to eat it for that time. It was sweeter than the average beetle but I can’t help but wish I saw what my owner was doing.
Once I returned to the front yard, I was unable to find him at first. He’s a pretty tall man so this baffled me. But luckily, I found him an hour ago in a pretty odd place. I’m sitting on the lowest branch as he’s slightly lifted from the ground, hanging lifelessly. This is strange. He isn’t talking, as usual, but it looks like he’s not even breathing. I meowed him an “I love you”, just so he knows. But to be honest, I’m getting fed up playing with this piece of string.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
I miss writing notes to you. Rest In Peace.
Nevermind Jimi Hendrix
Nevermind Eric Clapton
Nevermind Jimmy Page
Nevermind Johnny Greenwood
Nevermind Lou Reed
Nevermind Ed O'Brien
Nevermind Kevin Shields
Nevermind Greg Ginn
Nevermind Mick Jones
Nevermind Johnny Ramone
Nevermind Brad Nowell
Nevermind Johnny Cash
Nevermind Slash
Nevermind Buddy Holly
Nevermind George Harrison
Nevermind John Lennon
Nevermind Sting
Nevermind Tom Delonge
Nevermind Brody Armstrong
Nevermind Dave Grohl
Nevermind Bahamas
Nevermind John K. Samson
Nevermind Chris Hannah
Nevermind Steve Jones
.
.
.
I'd rather hear you play guitar.
Nevermind Eric Clapton
Nevermind Jimmy Page
Nevermind Johnny Greenwood
Nevermind Lou Reed
Nevermind Ed O'Brien
Nevermind Kevin Shields
Nevermind Greg Ginn
Nevermind Mick Jones
Nevermind Johnny Ramone
Nevermind Brad Nowell
Nevermind Johnny Cash
Nevermind Slash
Nevermind Buddy Holly
Nevermind George Harrison
Nevermind John Lennon
Nevermind Sting
Nevermind Tom Delonge
Nevermind Brody Armstrong
Nevermind Dave Grohl
Nevermind Bahamas
Nevermind John K. Samson
Nevermind Chris Hannah
Nevermind Steve Jones
.
.
.
I'd rather hear you play guitar.
"I have never understood the concept of infatuation. It has always been my understanding that being 'infatuated' with someone means that you think you are in love but you're actually not; infatuation is (supposedly) just a foolish, fleeting feeling. But if being "in love" is an abstract notion, it's not tangible, and there is no way to physically prove it to anyone else.... Well, how is being in love any different than having an infatuation? They're both human constructions. If you think you're in love with someone and you feel like you're in love with someone, then you obviously are; thinking and feeling is the sum total of what love is. Why do we feel an obligation to certify emotions with some kind of retrospective, self-imposed authenticity?"
-Chuck Klosterman.
You're an absolute babe.
-Chuck Klosterman.
You're an absolute babe.
Don't read this.
I don't get why people are so afraid of dying.
I can't wait.
What's stopping me from killing myself now?
I want a surprise.
Death is the most interesting thing. I could be dead in five seconds. Who knows? What is it that is stopping you from taking a gun and shooting me this very moment?
Nothing.
My life is not important to you. My life isn't even important to me. In fact, no one's is. It will all be ended, so why should I give a shit about it?
I'm pretty sure every human being has fantasized more about death than sex.
Personally, I've pictured almost everyone I know dead.
Death's different than so many things.
You get only one chance to be dead.
I want mine to be memorable.
I can't wait.
What's stopping me from killing myself now?
I want a surprise.
Death is the most interesting thing. I could be dead in five seconds. Who knows? What is it that is stopping you from taking a gun and shooting me this very moment?
Nothing.
My life is not important to you. My life isn't even important to me. In fact, no one's is. It will all be ended, so why should I give a shit about it?
I'm pretty sure every human being has fantasized more about death than sex.
Personally, I've pictured almost everyone I know dead.
Death's different than so many things.
You get only one chance to be dead.
I want mine to be memorable.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
I think listening to this song made me stupid. fuckin shooting stars. fuckin rainbows.
"Fucking magnets, how do they work?"
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Creative Writing Class: Graphic Novels
Fact:
The best movies come from graphic novels.
Proof:
Ghost World
The Crow
Coraline
Kick-Ass
Spiderman
Dark Knight
Akira
Castle of Cagliostro
American Speldor
Heavy Metal
Hellboy
The Incredible Hulk
Iron Man
Watchmen
V For Vendetta
Creative Writing Class: The Senses contin'd
Sound
I love that gasping sound right before a singer starts to sing; just breathing for air in a song. It always makes me happy.
Touch.
Nothing feels better than touching a cat. ...but maybe touching George Harrison would be better.
Creative Writing Class: The Senses part one. Wouldn't let me post more pictures...
The Best
Sight.
I just really like seeing funny faces. Especially on ma bestest frannns.
Smell.
Sharpies smell like how I imagine a princess would.
Sharpies smell like how I imagine a princess would.
Taste.
Sushi tastes like god.
Sushi tastes like god.
Creative Writing: Before I Die
TO DO LIST
1 Jim Sturgess
2 Have a thirty minute conversation with my father
3 Meet Chuck Klosterman
4 Become a Disney Imagineer
5 Go to Japan
6 Save someone's life
7 Win the lottery and give it all away to charity
8 Join Hinduism
9 Get someone who only listens to mainstream music to listen & love real music
10 Go to a fancy restaurant with a homeless person
11 Adopt a kid
12 Visit George Harrison's grave
13 Suckle a cow's utter with Tom Green (it's likely to happen)
14 Have a huge collection of records, books, and Disney movies
15 Create a CD of lame love songs and give them to a guy
DID LIST
1 Shook hands with a child molester
2 Met Stephen Harper
3 Thrown up the Holy Eucharist (lol)
4 Almost died as a kid because I did not like banana medicine... goddamn E. Coli
5 Was hit on by a transvestite
6 Met Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and Ariel
7 Surpassed my brother's intelligence at the age of 7
8 Talked to a suicidal person
9 Discovered I was allergic to caterpillars
10 Ate five apples a day for a good two months
11 Saw Propagandhi live
12 Been thrown up on
13 Became a pianist and guitarist
14 Got unofficially married at the age of six
15 Designed and made a purse for my brother... he loves it!
1 Jim Sturgess
2 Have a thirty minute conversation with my father
3 Meet Chuck Klosterman
4 Become a Disney Imagineer
5 Go to Japan
6 Save someone's life
7 Win the lottery and give it all away to charity
8 Join Hinduism
9 Get someone who only listens to mainstream music to listen & love real music
10 Go to a fancy restaurant with a homeless person
11 Adopt a kid
12 Visit George Harrison's grave
13 Suckle a cow's utter with Tom Green (it's likely to happen)
14 Have a huge collection of records, books, and Disney movies
15 Create a CD of lame love songs and give them to a guy
DID LIST
1 Shook hands with a child molester
2 Met Stephen Harper
3 Thrown up the Holy Eucharist (lol)
4 Almost died as a kid because I did not like banana medicine... goddamn E. Coli
5 Was hit on by a transvestite
6 Met Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and Ariel
7 Surpassed my brother's intelligence at the age of 7
8 Talked to a suicidal person
9 Discovered I was allergic to caterpillars
10 Ate five apples a day for a good two months
11 Saw Propagandhi live
12 Been thrown up on
13 Became a pianist and guitarist
14 Got unofficially married at the age of six
15 Designed and made a purse for my brother... he loves it!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
WHAT? I swear he was a never-nude!
I don't even like peta. I just love David Cross with all my heart. "I'm going to hunt his parents down and spit on one of them."
^marry me.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
I show people clips of this movie to make them fall in love with me.
Not to brag or anything, but I sat through the worst movie of all time. Tommy Wiseau wrote, directed, and starred in the movie "THE ROOM". Tommy Wiseau originally compared this movie to the works of Tennessee Williams (and spelt his name wrong on a poster). Once people started criticizing this movie and asked for their money back, Tommy declared this movie to be "dark humour".
There are screenings of this movie in California at the end of each month. And, Tommy Wiseau is there, of course. People are open to throw food at the screen, throw footballs around, and yell whatever they want - as long as it does not hurt anyone. This movie started out as a book, which Tommy could not get published, because it is, well, shit. This also happened with a playwright. This movie cost Tommy about 6 million dollars; many people walked out, and it was only in theaters for about two weeks. Thus, this left Tommy to receive two thousand back.
Not only does this movie have: horrible acting,
a sad excuse for a script,
the constant use of the phrase "oh hi ____", as well as the aforementioned chicken noises; it is also the easiest way to make friends. In fact, the only reason people have wanted to hang out with me this march break was so they could watch it. ...:(
It's pretty much the worst movie of all time. And I'm madly in love with it, and I really can't comprehend why people would walk out of this film. Really, this man was so serious about the writing and everything. The actors and script supervisor had to make many changes to the script because it made absolutely no sense.
To sum up this shitastical movie, Tommy Wiseau plays Johnny, who is with a woman named Lisa. After many awkward and unexplainable events, we learn that Lisa is cheating on Johnny with his best friend, Mark. Johnny finds this out at his surprise birthday party and then results in killing himself - this the funniest part of the movie. I'd usually feel bad about ruining about the end of a movie, but really, this has just ruined itself. So ANYWAYS, in one of the final scenes, where Johnny has locked himself in the washroom from Lisa after finding out she cheated, she tells him to come out, he yells to her "In a minute, bitch." This was of course, supposed to be serious. However, all the actors on set had to try to hold in their laughter. After, Tommy Wiseau came out and asked what was so funny. I don't really know where I'm going with this, but all I'm really trying to say is, this... this movie... must be watched. It's a beautiful cult classic that will make you die of laughter just because it's supposed to be so serious.
Oh hi movie poster!
note: as surprising as this is, my brother helped me with most of the information. This is one of the very few thing he knows a lot about, so I'm forced to give him credit. Thanks for letting this beautiful movie into my life.
OH HI MATTHEW!
...and if this crappy review didn't win you over, you get to see Tommy Wiseau's ass in the movie!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Creative Writing Class: Smells like Teen Spirit.
It's classic. Never changes. We think we're original. But we all say "legit"and "that's what she said". We all listen to the same things. I don't know a person who doesn't know all the words to "I Love College". We all hate the government - when we know absolutely nothing about politics. We've all become atheists. We all want to legalize marijuana. We all think we're so funny when we repeat the same jokes. We all wear the same clothes; hey there Hollister, Abecrombie&Fitch, TNA, American Eagle. Or, we become the kids that dye our hair black, smoke in the corner, wear all black and band t-shirts to music we think no one knows about and this makes us feel cooler. We go out with our boyfriends...and their friends who hate us. We take pictures and upload them to Facebook. We all admit to our love for music. We'll grow up to be obese. We believe we love our high school sweethearts, and try to change them from their player ways. And they'll say they change, but deep down they know we'll always be used. We dance. We laugh. We play. We'll ignore every message given to us by teachers, but reply to every message given to us through our cells. We will have the older generations calling us stupid and useless. Saying we're getting dumber and dumber. We constantly talk of alcohol, drugs and sex, because that's all we know. We suffer from anxiety and depression. We lack in self-esteem. We want to change the world. But we won't. It's classic. Never changes.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Creative Writing Class: Good ol' days.
Once upon a time, there lived two absolutely wonderful 11 year old girls named Katherine and Shawna. Seeing how these girls had no friends since the fourth grade except for each other, they would spend their time making home videos. One Saturday afternoon (because Fridays were spent at Shawna's; and Saturday's were spent at Katherine's) they were at Katherine's. And the two decided to make a home video. Shawna decided to record herself putting make-up on Katherine. And because Shawna took make-up lessons and would grow up to be a model - Katherine believed she would do a good job. After recording Katherine's attempt at cart wheels (when she didn't even know how to do a somersault), and Shawna talking about the Queen for about fifteen minutes, they proceeded in filming the make-up thang. Well, Shawna knew that the Johnny Depp look was very in, so she took Katherine's eyeliner and made a beard and a mustache. She decided to add her own personal touch to it and give her a unibrow as well. She then remembered the whore look was also very in. She gave Katherine a good douse of blue eyeshadow from lid to brow - and a bit past that - on each eye. As well as a lipstick that was in a shape inspired by the Joker. Orange foundation went all over her face and bright, bright red blush went on her cheeks; it really brought out the lipstick on her braces. Katherine saw how beautiful she'd become. She was so beautiful that she decided not to take off this lovely look for the entire day. They grew up (not mentally, of course) and watched these videos just a few months ago and regained respect for each other. And lived happily ever after.
the end.Monday, March 1, 2010
Live.
It's been a while since we last talked.
Remember the times we competed with our amounts of deoderants?
Remember our sword fights with the ones from Dollarama? The foam kind?
Remember the time we sat on the lawn and picked grass?
Remember the times we picked up that stray and hid it for days?
Remember the times we painted our faces in reds and blues?
I said it'll always remind me of you.
Remember the times we stayed up all night on the phone?
Remember the time you broke my heart?
Remember when weirdness was cute?
It's been a while since we last talked.
Remember the times we competed with our amounts of deoderants?
Remember our sword fights with the ones from Dollarama? The foam kind?
Remember the time we sat on the lawn and picked grass?
Remember the times we picked up that stray and hid it for days?
Remember the times we painted our faces in reds and blues?
I said it'll always remind me of you.
Remember the times we stayed up all night on the phone?
Remember the time you broke my heart?
Remember when weirdness was cute?
It's been a while since we last talked.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
The wise and lesson-learning story made by my best friend. There's a lesson somewhere..,maybe.
"There once was a man who had seven legs. He grew up around everyone else who only had two legs, but he never really noticed a difference. Then one day, a fat kid who goes by the name of Geoffrey went up to the seven legs man and said 'you're like an octopus with one leg cut off', this made octopus man very sad. It was that night when octopus man got very mad at the Greater Spirit. He cursed at him and threw rocks towards his direction. The great spirit then got very angry and yelled at the octopus man, 'why are you being sucha b*tch?!' The octopus man said, '...because you gave me five extra legs.' This was the time where the octopus learned the legend behind his legs. The normal two were for walking,the third for running extremely fast, the fourth gave him extra sexual tendencies, the fifth enabled him to make very good cupcakes, the sixth let him paint his toes that one extra colour, and the seventh wasn't even a leg. He was gifted with an extra long penis. This made the octopus man really happy."
-- AJMB
-- AJMB
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
f.
I feel empty all over. My bones feel like hallow, thin glass that can break so easily. And my thoughts, they're like bricks, piled high in my head. So full of frustration. Ready to weigh down my body, break the glass bones and tear me apart. Shred threw my skin.
For my brother. In loving memory...
written in grade 10
14/06/85 - 07/07/07
the summer will now always be dead to me
but you, you could never be,
it seems you are fading away,
why must life be so ****ing grey?
still sallow stains fall to my chin,
you're not here but will never be forgotten.
seven seven seven, everything must pass,
seven seven seven, nothing can ever last.
here today; should have been twenty-four,
gone tomorrow; never felt such pain before,
pictures fade; everything goes by so fast,
seems only our memories will ever last,
i miss you; your face; your smile,
we all thought you'd be here for a while.
seven seven seven, everything must pass,
seven seven seven, nothing can ever last.
craziness of it all, points the finger to above,
hating him for taking away what i truly do love,
remembering you still makes me feel broken,
"i love you", the words to you i'd last spoken,
still, it doesn't take much gutt to say i miss you
seven seven seven, everything must pass,
seven seven seven, nothing can ever last.
seven seven seven, everything must pass,
seven seven seven, nothing can ever last.
14/06/85 - 07/07/07
the summer will now always be dead to me
but you, you could never be,
it seems you are fading away,
why must life be so ****ing grey?
still sallow stains fall to my chin,
you're not here but will never be forgotten.
seven seven seven, everything must pass,
seven seven seven, nothing can ever last.
here today; should have been twenty-four,
gone tomorrow; never felt such pain before,
pictures fade; everything goes by so fast,
seems only our memories will ever last,
i miss you; your face; your smile,
we all thought you'd be here for a while.
seven seven seven, everything must pass,
seven seven seven, nothing can ever last.
craziness of it all, points the finger to above,
hating him for taking away what i truly do love,
remembering you still makes me feel broken,
"i love you", the words to you i'd last spoken,
still, it doesn't take much gutt to say i miss you
seven seven seven, everything must pass,
seven seven seven, nothing can ever last.
seven seven seven, everything must pass,
seven seven seven, nothing can ever last.
Creative Writing Class: Anyone who thinks the sky is the limit has limited imagination.
And there I was. After another dreadful night, I woke up and stood on the top of the apartment building to clear my thoughts. The swift movements of the cool wind flew into my nostrils and grazed my hair and shoulders. I often wished I was apart of the wind; going in every direction; never staying; never befriending anyone. This was the first time I said that to the wind. And just like that, it invited me. I became a feather dancing in the wind over a field, the houses became the grass. I could make out nameless faces and spot their problems. There was a man stealing an elderly woman's purse - she looked very poor. I rummaged through my brain for ideas of how I could help make this world better by having this power. Then I saw the person who captured all my disgust for this world. The reason why I hate my life. I completely stopped caring about the elderly woman. All I wanted to do was pull down my pants in midair and take a giant shit on the world because it shit on me so much. Maybe I could be the Hob Goblin; destroy the world, harm the people. Spiderman isn't real. There's nothing for me to fear. No one will help these wastes of space. But today is the first day of my life. I'll just enjoy it for now. I've never felt this amazing. There were diamonds greeting me in the sky, when I rubbed my eyes in disbelief and found myself with soiled pants, lying on the bottom of a staircase. It was then decided, I would no longer do LSD.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Read this. Right now.
If this book were a person, I'd marry it. It's just that good.
Just by reading this book, I fell madly in love with Chuck Klosterman and bought all of his books immediately after.
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