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Here I am, fucking wasted on caffeine and no real commitments. My foreman (if you can call him that) called me this morning to tell me this latice we’ve been waiting on to finish this fence is still not ready, so he’ll call me when it is. I got up at 7am, checked my email while I waited for my morning wood to depart so I could walk to the washroom without shame. Looking in my fridge I noticed that I had’t used any of my dozen free range eggs I bought last week. They are about double the price of ordinary Lucerne eggs but they taste 4 times better. But it’s mostly to ease my conscience when I’m eating eggs. I’d rather think that I am contributing to better living conditions for a fucking disgusting and hideous animal (I’m talking about chickens) than having to think about the same fucking disgusting and hideous animal in cramped shit-lined no-beaked cages. It’s the better of two hideousities. So I made french toast, topped with mango yogurt and syrup. I always thought cooking was such a waste of time. That it was a pointless thing to waste time, money and effort on. But I guess I found the point, the point being that I feel so much better when I eat, even better when I eat good food and even better better when I eat good food that I’ve made. After eating french toast I decided to slam a really strong cup of coffee to get primed for hard physical labour. No sooner had I finished that cup of coffee then my boss (previously referred to as ‘foreman’) called to tell me the aformentioned news. After getting off the phone I really wished I had stayed up late last night and slept in this morning. But now it’s 8:30am and I’m wide awake, so i might as well stay up and make the best of this day. Afterall, god doesn’t like to be fucked around with and I already prayed to be made of maximum service so I should probably do my part and get on that.

I have a piece in a show this Saturday night at El Kartel, on Robson between Thurlow and Burrard. The show is called ‘Art & Soul’. It’s a shoe show. Each of the 30 artists were given a pair of PF Flyers (shoes) and we painted them and they are all going up for auction. See you there, or not.

I really wanted a cigarette today. I still sort of want one. I look inward to what is bothering me. What is causing me anxiety. I’m not talking about the nicotine withdwrawl. It’s harsh but it’s really not that harsh. What I think is harsher is the taste of cigarettes. The feeling in my mouth after smoking 5 in a row… dry, sore, stinky and numb. The shame of lighting up, the feeling of weakness. I think about when I did smoke how not having my pack nearby made me nervous and how when i woke up the first thing I would think about would be a cigarette. I think about how dominated my life was my cigarettes. Not to mention how expensive they are. All for what, so I voluntarily fuck myself up with chemicals that kill my cells and cause cancer and make it hard to breathe? These facts aren’t far fetched. I am just totally okay with suffering a little until this feeling of withdrawl goes away so that I can experience something much better – freedom from addiction.

I dreamt we were in the water. We were swimming and could see the boats from the shore. As we got closer we could see the distressed ships and firefighting boats. We were going to climb right up the side of one, you and me. We were a team. We cared intensely for one another. We came close to the side of the ship and I could see you had reservations. I could see you had fear.I put my arm around you, which when you’re distressed at sea is the best way to conserve warmth, you know. We tied the rope around us. You told me your father died trying to climb ships out at sea. I waved to a rescue boat to get us out, but they didn’t see us so we had to climb. I woke with the feeling of your vulnerability, how it made me feel trusted and affectionate.

I’m gonna play today like a game.

do you ever have momentary realization taht you’re alive and like, responsible for things and suddenly have a momentary panic attack?
i just had one
it kind of freaked me out
well, i was all in computer land, then i looked at my reflection in the window and saw that i’m in an apartment, the same apartment i woke up in and have beenin for two weeks, and that it’s MY apartment, that only I live here. that I have to pay its rent. that all these things around me would have no possesor if i died. I guess i feel really anxious.
anxious that I am working, and that I’m sober, and that I have responsibility and friends and am scared that i am going to fuck something up.

Also, I went to bed at a responsible time last night! I was in bed by 10:45pm. I don’t think this had happened in wuite a while. I’m really glad I did this morning cause I’m really well rested.

I need to remember to finish my submission for the El Kartel show today. The show is on Saturday.

I haven’t had sex in what seems like two months.

It’s 7am and there’s an alarm clock somewhere else in the building that’s been going off for 20 minutes. during the week, when I am working this is when I get up, 6:45am. At work my 8. Done by 4pm. It’s a good way to spend half my waking day.

When I woke this morning I looked at the clock and read 6:30. It took me a while to remember what reality I was waking up in. I’m a really active lucid dreamer so adjusting to the real reality takes a bit. I got out of bed and on my feet and looked out my window at the morning mountains. The sun cut through a fog that was pushing in from the east and everything seemed to just be waking up. I then realized it was the morning and probably 6:30am in the morning, oh yeah and that I am working today cause yesterday was Sunday. I felt grateful that I had not slept through work and had to deal with the guilt of being irresponsible. At this point I really didn’t feel like going to work, I really didn’t feel like dealing with the day. I just wanted to throw in the towel. I find I am like this almost every morning when I wake up. I just don’t want to fucking bother. But here’ s the interesting part. As soon as I realize I am awake, I drop to my knees, literaly, and pray for the strength and willingness to be an active participant in my own life today. This morning I prayed to the sky cause it was a really beautiful post-sunrise. The sky is a hell of a lot bigger than me and it’s always there. But after I did this I immediately felt my fear of living lifted. I immediately felt determined to go to work and do my absolute best for my employer. I immediately felt awarded all the strength I needed to not just fuck it and go back to bed but to go and make a pot of coffee and get ready to start my day. Without this power to will myself to do good and useful things for myself I am positive I would not be able to do a quarter of the things I do on a daily basis.

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.