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The party went well. We made a whack of cash – the most cash we’ve made at a party since New Years. We are hosting another party on Thursday- a fashion show, and another one on Saturday- the Emily Carr grad party, Master of Puppets.

I’m at her house and it feels good to know we are going to sleep together, her body close to mine. Some weirdness is going on… You and Her met face to face at the party. Up till then, you both knew each other as just names. Introduced, I was surprised that you two didn’t claw each other’s throats out. I was amazed you guys hugged. I hope that I have been honest in my dealings with you both, so that no weirdness or hurt would come to any of us. I felt strange nonetheless. Strange perhaps because it was an unfamiliar situation. An entirely new set of experiences and entirely new reactions to the events unfolding. It seems this city is just too small for this to have not happened. Last night, I could only sit in the back of the car and laugh to myself at the situation – both of you sitting together, passenger and driver… I could feel the awkwardness but we all were denying it, because in theory it should not have been weird at all.

Three people, with boundaries particular to those relationships uncommon to the norms of our society… Our society dictates how we should behave- verbally, emotionally, mentally, spiritually and physically with each other in the context of predefined relationships. I say fuck those norms, they don’t work for me. I want to define the context of my relationships. Naturaly an outsider, indoctrinated in the beliefs of this sociology, would think these relationships strange. They would think they are absurd, dangerous and unmoral. And the effect that the percieved judgement we imagine these people to have of us is what makes this weird. It is not the actual context that is strange… it is the feeling of difference… that this is something that normally doesn’t occur in our society. this is something different, something I have not experienced, and until I have experienced it, it will seem foreign. Until I have dealt with myself so that I may not be so nfluenced by other people’s opinion and thoughts of me, it will seem strange.

You appeared in my dream last night. You hadn’t in a long time. Makes sense. I couldn’t stop thinking about you yesterday and i really didn’t want to be thinking of you. It makes me sad. It makes me nostalgic and think maybe things were good. I know they were good sometimes. Most times as long as i was deluded enough to think of it that way. But you were in my dream last night. The first time I had actually seen you in 5 weeks. I was happy to see you and you probably were too. But we didn’t let each other know it. We both stubbornly resisted showing any affection. We spoke in words that would not indicate the closeness we once felt with each other. Typically lame questions. Typically shallow answers. Remembering what you had last told me – to stay away – I offered to leave. I lied and told you I wouldn’t mind leaving if you wanted me to. You replied with the unfavourable answer,”would you mind?” I was momentarily silent and confused. But I could tell you wanted me to leave. So I turned and left suddenly ejecting me from my dream. I wanted back there. I wish I hadn’t offered to leave.

Party this weekend at the studio. Really stressed. Really fucked up emotionally and mentally. Crippled. Handicapped. When your own thinking fails you there’s only one thing to do… pray and stop thinking.

fucking fucking fuck fuck
fuck fuck fuck fuck
fuck you fuck you
fucking fucker
fuck me fuck you
fuck fuck fuck

I was gonna quit smoking on Sunday but I didn’t. I did smoke a lot less and I have pretty much cut my smoking in half… half a pack a day as oppose to a pack a day.

I’m having trouble sleeping. It takes me a while to fall asleep, even with being really tired. Then, when i do get to sleep, I wake up every hour or so and if the disruption is loud enough I will just stay awake. Which is why I’m up now. But this is good, because I have lots of stuff to do.

The new best place on Hastings to eat is at the Carnegie Public Library. Upstairs there’s a cafeteria and they serve really good food for practically nothing cause it’s government subsidized. Lunch is $1.50 and dinner is $2.50 or something like that. Props to JR for exposing me to this fine establishment.

6 (six) motherfucking parties at our space in the month of May. This is good for $$$ but also a pain in the ass cause it’s going to involve so much cleaning and night-of-the-event stress. Nevertheless, it’s by far the easiest and most enjoyable way to make rent. And with 6 parties, we should be able to make rent for at least a couple months.

Ernestly trying to finish my Step Four. I need to or else I am positive I will use again and I really don’t want to.

I had a thought during a really lame meeting tonight. I think it’s pretty retarded that AA validates sobriety by time spent not using drugs/alcohol. Drugs and alcohol are but symptoms of the problem. I drank and smoked to cope with life. My disease manifests itself in many ways. Perhaps the most destructive to myself and others was my using. But it just kind of pisses me off that people can stay off drugs for a really long time and still be really spiritually and mentally ill. It pisses me off because I understand this and am working towards changing myself spiritually whereas those with over a year clean are seen as “healthy” but really are more often than not more fucked than me.

I had a dream last night that i was offered a pipe and I walked away. The feeling was intensely real. I remember it was really hard to just walk away and i almost didn’t. But I was glad after that I had.

Someone who I really respect read my blog and told me that my writing is really good. A part of me didn’t believe him that he was telling the whole truth. I’ve always thought my writing is nothing special. It was an interesting and noted event. But the more significant event is that since then I’ve found it really hard to write on here. This is problematic. Originally I didn’t tell anyone about my blog, thinking that those that stumbled upon it from deadempire.com would be surprised but I definately was not trying to promote it. Several months later I starting letting people know about it, but i still didn’t believe that anyone cared enough to read it. So when someone read a bunch of my writing and had something other than death threats and insults to say I was pretty shocked. And I’m still shocked and trying really hard to focus on the original intent of this thing… To just be my journal open for public viewing, so that I can feel less isolated in my own head and perhaps throw my thoughts out there to the world so that I can feel more a part of the human collective conciousness.

Feeling really fucked right now. The poetry scrawled all over my desk in my room is evidence of this. So anyway, I have faith that as soon as I start to straighten out spiritually, my thinking and in turn my writing will start to straighten out as well. And by straighten out I mean more interesting, cause I’m bored myself writing this… And if you’re thinking that maybe I should try writing something that doesn’t bore me, that’s sort of the problem. I don’t know what doesn’t bore me anymore. I don’t know that the reasons and causes behind anything I’m doing right now are in fact valid or true. Everything is up in the air right now. My head feels slanted. My eyes feel like they’re bugging out of my head all day. I am anxious and feel prone to a panic attack at any moment. Crowds and loud noises make me feel really uncomfortable. Sleep is nice, when I can. It’s the only time I don’t feel crazy.

“What the fuck! who said anything about the cutting being b/c of me. as far as i know we havent talked since we broke up… and quite frankly i have no desire to. plain and clear nicholas – I DONT WANT YOU TO BE IN MY LIFE SO FUCK OFF (have you noticed that every single interaction since we ended our relationship ha been initiated by you! so fuck you and fuck off, for once nicholas stick to your word and STAY AWAY!

b”

The past few days have felt like the prelude to an awesome summer. It was warm out tonight. I was just out riding and the streets were peaceful. The moon is almost full tonight. When I’m out at night I sometimes imagine that the moon is an eye that watches me. I take comfort in the consistency of it’s nightly appearance. The crackheads were making a scene at the McDonald’s drive-thru which was hosting walk through patrons this evening because the usual walk-thru window was closed. I watched one guy infront of me twitch spastically out of control and imagined what it must feel like to have no control over your muscle movements and balance.

I did not sleep at her house tonight, although she wanted me to. It felt good to feel wanted by someone. I looked in to her eyes and touched her hair and she tossed her head away smiling a bashful grin because she hates it when i look at her. She hates it when I look in to her soul and she looks in to mine and we dream a momentary dream in the space between our intwined bodies and clasped gaze. I did not sleep at her house tonight. I told her I had to return home and do some work. This was half true. I told her the rest of the truth, that I have a complex about sleeping over at her house. I have an fear that arrises when i sleep with anyone. I love falling asleep in her embrace, but I always awake to a nagging depression and feeling of guilt. Guilt of what, i don’t know. I guess I just never feel comfortable waking up with someone else in my bed.

I need to sleep now. Hallucinating paint splatters on the floor as cockroaches.

THE FACTS:
• I’m clean and sober
• I’m doing everything I can to get better and lead a healthy life
• My thinking is getting better everyday and I am feeling better every day.
• If you are smoking meth still, your thinking is really fucked. I was there. I know this.

Smoking meth causes your brain to function abnormally. Whenever I was not so loaded that I couldn’t think or feel I felt entirely shitty about myself. If you are at all like I was, You may feel the same. Here you find yourself in a place of resentment and blame which is currently directed at me.

But really, I don’t know why you bother with me. Why do you give a fuck about me? If you think you don’t then you don’t need to read my blog. If you think that anything I am doing with my life these days, including cutting my arm open, has the slightest thing to do with you let me clarify — it doesn’t.

Anyway, I’m happy to be sober today. Anyone who reads my blog knows that I am clean. Hopefully, one day I’ll be in a position to show someone a solution to their problem like I was shown a solution.