bye.

My apartment, famous for the noisy neighbors above, for the drippy faucet in the bathroom and for always being a bit too cold. I was testing my new cell phone camera in the dark last week and this strange splash of light occured… funny thing is I cant explain where the light would have come from.

What do you think? Is my place haunted? In an apartment building, would the ghost be limited to my apartment only or would they haunt the entire thing?

Breaking up with someone is a messy business but but being the dumpee instead of the dumper is decidedly worse. It’s like you’re heart is bleeding to death and instead of lying in a hospital getting highly technical medical treatment for your condition you’re packing stuff and separating your life from someone that you’ve seen everyday for so long they’re just a part of you. When you’re done you look at this car full of crap and think this is what i’m worth. your whole centre just crumbles and you feel like you’re stumbling around in the dark and someone knows exactly where the light switch is but they refuse to turn it on and just let you masacre your chins on the fucking coffee table. So you stumble around for the first day just in complete agony and then you start to think about that person and start to come up with reasons to hate them just so you can feel better about yourself because anger is so much easier to deal wih than heartbreak. But the reasons you find don’t hold their weight in water and then you go to sleep and think last night i was with them and everything was right with my world. You wake up hoping it was all this terribe dream and roll over to cuddle them and realize that their not there and never will be again. so you realize that you’ll have to paw through this muck waiting for a downpour of rain that will wash your misery away and know that it will be months before it does. So i sit in this desert with no water to wash away these tears hoping that someday soon you’ll have more than the cacti to keep you company……….alll i can think about is picturing those keys i left on the table and the door slamming behind me knowing that i won’t ever be able to access that place or that person ever again. Life sucks today

Life is a series of sucker punches.
(clench your jaw,drop your chin,round your shoulders and lean into it)

yeah well, you don’t.

so there i was slapping pencil necks and daring them to “jump like a frog”
and i realized something:
i am so mega tough and ultra awesome you don’t even know.

seriously though — it really sucks being here, and it sucks even more being me right now.
i’m in my hometown which is the 2nd best place on earth (love SD).
and all my old buddied have turned from decent to people who can’t hold a promise for all hell.
it really sucks so now i am extremely lonely for weeks at a time until i see her again.
when i say her, i really mean the broad that makes me wake up and makes me able to face the world.
i don’t like getting old/older.
i’ve been training for my last hurrah, a marathon before i go under the knife again and it’s not going well.
i damn near broke my ankle 2 times in the past week and running on it is horrible.
but i gotta do it.
i don’t want to be that guy that gets to be 50 and says
” i wish i did this…”
so i’m doing it all while my left leg still can stand my weight.
next on my agenda is dunking. i gots hoop dreams coach,
i got em bad.

so before my surgery in november which will most likely cripple me for a few years (meniscus, acl, bone spurs. etc.etc.etc.) i’m gonna wear my body down to the bone and get everything done while i stil can
hopefully including marriage.
there’s nothing that would be more sorrry to me than to see laura stand there while i hobble up to take her.
so it’s my goal to have her while i can still make her proud to be next to me

Idealists will destroy the world, again and again.
(more…)

I wish someone understood my extreme sensitivity to everything.

I’m starting to get use to sirens in the midst of my favourite song. The clash of the hussle with my tortoise-like pace. There it is again. Again! Again, my dearest Ann.

It’s so fucking time to ((((((SlEeP*mOvE*sCrEaM*tHiNk*FeEl*CrY*sPiN*bArF))))))

Counting the months. 6 Months. 1……2…..3….4…5..6.
I sit @ home
@ my desk alone
As I use to do
On many Sunday afternoons
When you came back to me
Your arms ached for me
& your arms would close me in
Though they smelled of other women
Other Women.

Please don’t come back this month. I can’t take it.

people on the street in toronto on the way to a spanish lesson; a man on a bicycle drops hundreds of papers on the street and has to wait to pick up one or two sheets of paper at a time between cars driving over the remaining leafs, as they drift and rise up, float and muddy themselves against the curb. An old woman in a blue dress asks for change, then asks for a light and searches through her bag for an obtained cigarette, her belongings strewn inside before my eyes, some medication, a ribbon, and papers. Some film students have a paper bag of books tied to a string, get ready for the next shot. People walk around them, ACTION, they pull the bag across the ground as a woman chases it in the ‘wind’. I leave my lesson and walk behind two girls talking in Spanish. Think about saying something… Buenos Noches, me llamos es Ryan… not that I’d know how to say anything more.

I got home ok.

I can barely listen to music lately, have barely updated my playlist at work. Am I approaching that age where musical exploration freezes? Am I destined to look forward to reunion concerts?

No, there’s no way, but that would be a better reason. Instead I think I’ve ruined most of my favorite music. The past is so attached to those songs that I can’t listen. I can’t wait for the past. Seeing Coldplay in concert last night and being thankful they didn’t play her song, and ‘her’ isn’t even an important memory.

It looks terrible outside. I’m waiting for long grain rice to cool in the fridge so I can fry it, I’ve got chicken and vegetables cut up. It all seems really boring. It’s a good enough reason not to write, but those are the reasons I usually choose to. I could go read The Doors of Perception and get excited, but where would that lead me? Only 2 months until I should be back in Europe. 2 weeks of Spanish lessons are finished. ¿qué siguiente?

I’ve been through Europe, I’ve come home, I’ve cut off my hair.
I’ve cleaned my apartment, taken out the garbage, done groceries.
It’s been 6 weeks of this, 6 weeks of routine again.
I bought a new shirt at american eagle, bought more toilet paper.
Cashed my paycheck, made sure my taxes were done.
What the hell now. I don’t like this.
I’m happy, but what for, I’m happy because things are working.
Hell I’m pretty grateful for it actually, I fought for it in small doses.
Maybe I need a victory, or maybe I need a new goal.

A few year ago I wrote about paper cups.
Now I’m just wondering what to do… I’ve got nobody to feed off of.