Category: Uncategorized

Ow. I was looking forward to this breakfast but I think it was an error. Granola, blueberries and yogurt. Ow. It’s like eating glass cobbler. The roof of my mouth is shredded and raw, but mouth injuries heal fast.

It frustrates me to see your name on MSN. I can’t say hello. I can’t communicate with you. I’ve been excommunicated. That sucks. I can’t ask you why you’re online, cause you haven’t been online for months. Since you went to San Francisco. I have to respect your choice to have me not talk to you. I just think it’s not really anyway to solve any issue or problem… silence and avoidance…. out of sight isn’t out of mind. I know you will read my blog, i know you will get this message. I guess when you read this I just want to ask you why you’re willing to read my blog still but can’t deal with talking to me like a human. I understand if you need space. I’d like to understand.

I’m frustrated looking at your name on MSN. I want to talk to you. I want to hang out with you. But all I can hear in reply to my thoughts is “I don’t want messages from you, in fact fuck right off out of my life.” I made that last part up I know. If you want me to feel rejected, you’ve had your success, hope it felt as good for you as it did for me. I know you’ll read my blog still, I know you can’t stay that detached. Actually who knows, maybe you’re not reading this and maybe I’m talking to myself. It just really sucks looking at your name on MSN and not being able to ask you why you’re even online. You’re never online, except for when you were in San Francisco. You’re gonna win this one. You’re more stubborn than me. You’ve already won. Whatever. What a stupid fucking way to cope.

i totally have to bite my tongue around you. I am always about to say something really sexual or even just slightly beyond that friendship boundary we got going on. then I have to hold back and remember that we are friends that are not gonna fuck. then I consider saying it anyway, because we are not gonna fuck anyway so it shouldn’t make a difference. but then i don’t and just think that you can hear me and that you agree wholeheartedly. I like that option much better anyhow. I’m never let down.

This is one of my closest friends, Anna. I love her and am grateful to have her in my life. We look hot with our matching sunglasses and smiles. This is also the second time I have ever posted a picture of myself to this blog.

I got internet in my apartment today. No more squatting in the first floor corridor sapping wireless from the occupants. I was kind of let down. I somehow build expectations without even trying to and I was a little pissed when I didn’t have 20 new emails or 15 people throwing shoutouts to me on MSN Messenger as soon as I logged on. ‘Did you hear? Nick’s online again! He got his internet hooked up!’ I can see it, people running from house to house up the block and children running to bring me gifts. These thoughts actually go through my head. To admit that is frightening. To experience it is ordinary.

I’m feasting on a big-ass bowl of strawberry-vanilla yogurt. Fuck, i love yogurt. Just remembered I have Harvest Crunch granola and in the fucking bowl it’s going. Having ready access to food made possible by a fridge and stove is a perk I never thought of when I thought of moving in to a one-bedroom apartment.

I looked at you and wondered what you were thinking about, if it was me. Then i smacked my brain upside the left hemisphere for even thinking that. I guess after your disproved enough times you should just stop assuming. Stop wondering. Stop asking.

And then there’s you. Has your boyfriend bored you yet? You called me, while you were cleaning your brother’s house just to see how I was doing. I don’t know. When you want to sleep over again let me know. I loved it. I loved being close to you and I don’t even need to know why. Maybe it was cause I proposed to you over MSN last year. Maybe it’s cause we got all that ego-clashing bullshit over and done with when we were together. Speaking of ego-clashing bullshit…

What the fuck was that? Oh yeah, shit you might be reading this. Well, I guess that was to be fully expected. I guess I just didn’t expect such a blunt reply. I forgot how much pain you must have gone through and how you still must hurt inside. I never meant to cause you hurt. I know that we will one day get along again. I know you and I have potential. We mix well. Not many people I would bother lying awake till 4am just talking with. Like, no one. So if you think that I walked all over you and curb stomped you when I was finished then think again. If you think you mean nothing to me, then think again. You mean a lot to me. I guess just a lot more to me than I was willing to let happen then. Eventually, over a long enough time span everything works out. I hope this section devoted to your unfriendly reply to my Friendster message doesn’t have the reverse effect it was intended to and motivate you to recede more. Cause I miss you. And that statement was not meant to be manipulative. Just the truth.

Working on a bunch of street stencils. Only put up a couple stencils in the last few months. It’s pathetic and I am rectifying.

Got the call. I’m working tomorrow. Fucking rights. I’ve been waiting for 10 fucking days to work. I get fucked in the head when I stew for that long. I need to get out of my fucking head for atleast 5 hours a day, like totally out and not thinking in here but living out there or else my self-analysis drives me nuts. Makes me wanna die. So thank god I’m building a house tommorow, and that I get to make a fuck load of money as well while I do it, oh and get ripped and tanned as well, as long as it doesn’t rain.

K, think i’m gonna barf fucking yogurt and granola now.

I have a plateau of inspiration and productivity. It occurs everyday between about 9pm and 1 or 2am or whenever I grow tired and fall asleep. Try as I might to induce this occurrence at other times in the day it never seems to happen until the evening. During this period my intuition becomes heightened. I feel more creative. I have a boundless artistic and creative energy. I want to listen to music, write, make music, play guitar and drums, engage in deep and meaningful conversation.

I will restructure my day and try it for a week

9 Wake, pray, meditate
9:45 Eat breakfast
10-12 Chores, Groceries, or coffee, Check email
12-1 Lunch
1-2 Read
2-3 Write
4-6 Ride bike
6 Dinner
7,8 Meeting, if no meeting then more reading
9-1 create
2 Evening reflection, meditation, sleeptime

the creatiion portion of my day will include one of the following activities:

• Writing
• Drawing
• Painting
• Writing songs
• Taking photos
• Shooting video

This evening, I am heading out to the truck crossing to shoot video of trucks passing for an element in the Mirror project.

We’ve known each other for almost 9 years and that was the first time we had actually slept in the same bed together.

I get a text message from you 2 minutes after you drop me off at home:
Wanted to come in… But didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.

I reply:
You are more than welcome to come in. I’m just in bed. Call me if u want in.

I’m looking at you sitting on my bed from under my covers. Then you state your position.

“This is the last time I’ll be able to sleep over this trip,” you tell me. “Tomorrow I have to pick someone up from the airport.”

I picked up that you were referring to your boyfriend. Funny how you only have mention him when necessity arises.

“The wrong idea would be that I want you to cross any boundaries we’ve set up,” you said.

I told you the decision to sleep over was ultimately up to you, what you felt comfortable doing. I’m fully prepared to respect your decision to not sleep over. But also, if you would like to sleep over you are are more than welcome and I would be happy to sleep with you.

I gave you a pair of my boxers and a t-shirt for pajamas. You took off all your clothes right in front of me and didn’t show any shame.
Adam and Eve weren’t ashamed to see each other naked.

You are so small in my arms. Our feelings for one another are reciprocal. I feel not so alone in your presence. I wrap my arms tightly around you, keeping you, protecting you, taking you in. You put your hand on mine.

We’ve known each other for almost 9 years and that was the first time we had actually slept in the same bed together.

As the dope stopped working the loneliness came flooding in.

She had made numerous references to “how she could have used me” like, “Oh, I totally could have used you last night to help print my resume.” or, “I Totally could use you to fix my computer.” I was shocked to hear this with sober ears and be fully aware of the sickness in that kind of talk.

As I got up to leave she came fluttering over to the door and through desperate attempts at speech came out with,” so are we friends again? now that we’re neighbors I can call you up to help with stuff?” I immediately felt myself retracting. I no longer have use for relationships that consist merely of bartering services or goods.

I wasn’t sure how to reply to anything she said. I was careful with my words. I didn’t want to say something which in ordinary circumstances would be completely rational and okay but in this circumstance I knew from experience that any number of things could make her retract beyond retrieval. Would that have been so bad? Not like I really wanted to be there eating her words.

I replied with, “So you mean, how can you use me?” I could see her caught off guard.

“Well, what do I have to offer you,” she thought out loud. “I could offer you sewing services?”

I could tell she was thinking about offering hummers. Or at the least I knew there was a part of her that knew this was bullshit. That relationships aren’t supposed to be business deals of how we can “help” each other out. I don’t feel obligated to do anything for my friends. I do it cause I want to.

“Can’t we get along? Why do you have to be an ass,” she stated. “It’s not like I’m the one who left you.” I thought about this statement and her obvious delusion surrounding our breakup as she supported her argument, “You left me, Nicholas, not the other way around. Just remember that.”

I said nothing. I tried to not even give away my emotional response. I gave her a deadpan face. I guess in a way I did leave her. I left her with her drugs cause i was done with them. I knew there was no future for us anymore. I knew we were both more in to the dope than each other. So when I left the dope, I had to leave you as well, in your tangled intertwined mess. When the two of us started doing dope together that last run, there was no “us” anymore. Our relationship effectively ceased to exist the minute we picked up dope and passed the pipe back and forth at that west end apartment. We could fantasize all we wanted that we were just like Sid and Nancy but really we didn’t care for each other. We stopped fucking each other and started fucking a 40 dollar bag of dope. When we actually broke up it was nothing more than reality catching up to what we had been doing all along. “Oh look at that, we actually don’t give a fuck about each other anymore. Oh look at that, you’re not at all the same person you were a month ago. Where did you go?” And all i could feel was the loneliness ramming it’s head out of my only comfort – a blanket of numbness. It was then that I started to really miss you. You were gone from my life. And there was no getting you back. I haven’t seen you, actually see YOU since we first picked up dope at that west end apartment almost 6 months ago. The only thing i’ve seen is a doped up lonely and confused girl walking around in her old body, since neglected and since abused.

Yes, I did leave you. I can live with that. The exact circumstance I remember clearly now. I had been sober almost two weeks. It was the weekend of the Northshore Roundup at the Hyatt, downtown. We weren’t seeing much of each other during that time. I had made up my mind to get clean, yet wanted you to come with me and leave the dope. In my mind, you had already chosen the dope over me. I remember one night sitting in Tim Hortons with you. I told you I loved you and that provoked no response. I remember how what I was telling you meant nothing to you at all. I knew then that you were gone. That there was no point in even trying with you. We weren’t seeing much of each other during that time. On friday night I slept at your house with you. That was our last night together. On saturday I called you to come to the Roundup. You showed up stayed for a meeting then split. Later I found out you had left to get high. I met Breanna that weekend and I found someone who was real and who provided the love I missed. Sunday night I called you over to let you know what I had known for a couple weeks but was so reluctant to do. To give up on you. I told you “I really want to stay clean. I can’t stay clean and be in this relationship with you. So I can’t be in this relationship with you.” Yes, I did leave you. I totally left you. I left you. I left you so I could pursue staying clean over the last 5 months. So i could stay clean and pursue my life. So I could live and be in 3 art exhibitions since then. So I could stay clean and have the ability to get a job and earn money. So I could stay clean and have the ability to throw 6 parties that paid our rent at the warehouse for 4 months. So I could stay clean and be capable of being a son, brother and friend to my family and close friends. So I could stay clean and get this apartment with the gorgeous view that makes me grateful to be alive and healthy. Yes, I did leave you. I totally left you cause if I stayed with you I couldn’t have had any of these things.

When I brought you your fleece today I didn’t want anything more. I simply had something of yours and I wanted to return it to you. Maybe I shouldn’t have entered your house. Maybe I stayed too long. I had my guard up. I noticed every reference you made to your pursuits of hot guys. How you love to eat even though you weigh 90 pounds. How you are having sex with X guy. I know that you want me to think you’re doing okay. I don’t think you are. I don’t buy any of it. More importantly, if you are okay or not it makes no difference to me. Cause this is the important conclusion I’ve made from our interaction today: That I left you because I could not stay sober and be in a relationship with you while you’re still using. The fact is, you’re still on dope and I’m no more able to be in a relationship with you now than I was when I left you. And by relationship I mean on any level whatsoever. You’re not the girl that I want to have a relationship with. You’re not the girl you were.

I know one of these days you’re going to call me. I initiated contact between us. I returned your fleece. Now there is a precedent set that phone calls are okay again. So I know you’re going to call me. When you do it will be because you want something. I guess I could decline your request because I’m not a fucking service listed in the yellow-pages. I could decline you cause I don’t want to associate with you while you’re using. I could decline you cause I simply can’t cause of previous engagements or cause I am busy. All the same I know a time will come when I again have to confront you and make firm my boundaries. That I can’t be around you. It makes my skin crawl to be around you. Today, I sat on your couch watching you flutter around the room babbling about relatively pointless and inconsequential shit given the circumstance – you’re actively dying from a mental illness and are too deluded to see it. I can’t bear to watch it. It’s sad. And moreover, it’s oppressive to have you take your shit out on me.

[K, think i got it out now. -ed]

Walking down from the third floor room with the view to the oppressively hot and humid first floor I can jump on this amazingly strong wireless network, thus allowing me to check my email and write little entries with no soul in my blog.

Here’s one with soul:
After all these years it still feels so good to be next to you. I’m glad you stopped me when I started to kiss your neck. You froze and when I could tell my kisses were causing you to feel unfaithful I relented. “I want to cuddle with you,” you said “but that’s pretty much all i can do.” I was happy with that arrangement. It felt so good to be next to you, my arm behind you, or your hand in mine. You nuzzled your head in to my neck, smelling your sweet hair and soft skin. Fuck, it felt good. I didn’t want to let you go, like that first time, when we were 13 in the vacant backroom at the community center, you laid between my legs, so that I could kiss you and cuddle like we did for hours while we ate a bag of cherry licorice. You said you couldn’t sleepover. “Parental judgement?” I asked, “Parental and boyfriend,” you replied. It never seems to matter that you have a boyfriend. It’s almost better that way, cause I can give you all my love without the fear of it becoming destructive. Without it tearing us apart. One of those times when you came back from the bathroom, I had put pajamas on and got under my covers. I was tired, we had been cuddling with each other for hours and it was now 4 am. You came and curled up beside me, your arm across my chest, my arm behind your neck and squeezing you close to me so tight. After all these years of absence you still feel so natural, so right where I belong. I began to dream about us. Transcending from that momentary embrace to a dream embrace but this time inside a yet finished house, just big enough for the both of us, as if we were dogs in a doghouse. My POV is aerial and I watch as the roof begins to be constructed over us. But strangely, and stranger still that I notice it, the wrong materials are being used to construct the roof. 1×2 slats instead of sheathing and shingles. Through this vision I hear you say, “Are you in dreamland?” “Yes,” I reply and I tell you what I am dreaming. Communicating to me still in my dream she tells me that my dream is a pretty accurate interpretation of the current situation.