Madness and the modern self, linked together infinitly. but what is finite and infinte? infinite thoughts for certain because everything provokes some sort of reaction, some kind of thought process that leads you to discovery.. perhaps soemtimes of a new philosophy?
“Never answer the question, answer the thought the question provokes”
what have i become? sometimes i enjoy the philosophy. i enjoy when i pay attention and mostly when it does provoke something from me, though its usually disaproval and hatred. when i can explain it its lovely and good and cheer and...
what if i miss this in art school? what will i get mad at then? then it will be all my own fault, that i cant make the paintbrush move the way i want it to.. then it will be all of my own doing and i wont be able to place the blame upon anyone else. i hope i am always provoked in thought though. i think i'll need some english courses to go along with those fine arts one. im such a mix of the two that its impossibly to rip one or the other out. now im writting and all i want to do is paint and create art. ill be doing that full time and all i will be doing is writting and reading and composing. poetry is eternal, that never needs anything else. that doesnt need a balance, or composure, that just is itself.

my poor bones are shaking so much, my teeth have been grinded down by my nerves. gold teeth to ensue because i just grind my jaw, clenched, when i walk, when i sleep, when i think, i always think. subconciously of course, i dont realize i do it till the pain gives me awful headaches. a golden smile flashes from those fake teeth, fake bones, because they grind together too. my poor knees my poor hips, they grind and gristle whenever i walk too much and my poor teeth are subject to such torture which cause my brain to clench and despise. my body has so many issues with my brain, i guess it would do it for punishment. i wish they would just start working together instead of so far apart because my mind is always travelling and my body is tired of keeping up with these desperate travels..montreal toronto paris and new york, the places i want to visit this year, the places i want to expirience and drink up so densly that i dont forget them and so that they leave a tattoo behind. maybe they will loosen my teeth and stuff some more marrow into my bones.
i need good health, lots of smoothies and tea. and nothing else. a fast is on the way, a liquid fast for a little while to clear everything out. maybe then they can start to get along, to sleep better.

subways /nutella /clothing book /stores /red websites /cheesecake blizzards /housepainting /fashion television /gang gang dance /huge bathrooms /rosemary mint body lotion /ariel pinks haunted graffiti /psychic ills / NO LOCAL JOKES /THATS IMPOSSIBLE I DONT HAVE ALL THE TAPES /NO REQUESTS /Spedina/ Dupont/ Osgoode/ Green st.patricks station/ OCAD/

TORONTO 2006.

nope, wrong one, again
it sucks how everything seems ok but theres always that one problem that manages to irk you and quells everything in your stomach because with the way you are and well, the way i am it cant be done.

blood stripes down
wraps around
tiniest wrist bones
inside she groans
no idea whats shes done
no idea
no thoughts just pure satisfaction
gun held to her lips
blood races
down puddling in her messy clothes
she waits for someone
to hear all of her woes
lifted up beyond the cloud
or thats how the story in her mind goes

im nervous. nerotic.

i think i fell in love in the bus shelter
i think i fall in love with any boy who puts his arms around me, touches my nose, pulls at my hair and kisses my cheek

i cant lie, it was a nice feeling. very nice really.
music gets my blood flowing, my veins pumping through my legs in constant motion. it hits me that perfect way and i cant help but shake it up
it felt so good to let loose. it felt so good to talk and dance and shout and...touch?
that element of touch is always so perfect.

i want art pumping furiously out of my veins. i have no money to buy supplies, and no supplies at home. i need photo paper. i would like scraps of fabric.
what the fuck am i even doing sitting here on this fucking shithole of a computer when i could be making beautiful valentines day cards upstairs?
i hope montreal and toronto make me burst at the seams with art makeing wanting.

i dont know some people as much as i would like to and some people i know too well
its 5 and its still sunshine and blue skies outside. spring is coming, fast approaching.. well not fast enough and at the same time... THERE ISNT ENOUGH TIME
oh my godddd i need to do and see so much that my brain hurts so much that i feel sick.
poppin' 'em pillzz

i am in tatters even more than my old jeans were
i dont miss those days but i dont look forward to today either
can you create an entirely new life? and how would i go about it?
i forgget i might be killed in france by a psycho who picks me up. in his bathtub he'll slit my neck and they will find me entirely in my own blood. i hope someone takes a picture, because that would be a beautiful picture. even more stunning if my skin was white ash, so pure and gleaming and then the stark red of my blood.
my obsession with blood continues. i study my veins, i look at my bloody kleenex. its the thing that keeps me alive and i forget it. its nothing else but that blood pumping through consistantly. maybe one day i will put a hole in my chest and plug it up with fresh moss.
i want someone to find my neck attractive and my little wrists. i want someone to see me as innocent and unknown and gentle, a little fawn.

my head is pounding so much
if i dont drink, i have nothing to do.
if i dont smoke what will i do with my hands?
theres some things that need to be done despite my throat and be body's willingness to abandon.

my skin will turn into white silk
my smile mysterious mona lisa lovely
alone with my thoughts
complete control once the developping is done. no stress, no surrounding thoughts, just pure exhiliration of image on paper on wall in my mind forever!

my eyeballs are burning and my hands stink of chemicals.

i had a dream that took place in france, on the beach
he was a golden haired blonde that i dont even remember meeting. i was swimming and i crashed into his surfboard because i couldnt handle the wave. he took my hand and put sun lotion on my face and kissed me in the water. he fed me an apple and held my hand and brushes the sand away from my cheek
when the giant wave came he held my hand and didnt let go because he didnt want to lose me. and then when i was leaving i remembered to tell him i would be back in 3 months and he smiled and sunshine was everywhere.
can you fall in love with someone in a day?
ive never seen this boy before. it wasnt someone i knew, someone i wanted, he was brand new and clean and fresh and he took to me, bless his soul!
i love dreamland