hnt

city and colour

i went to see walk the line last night. it was quite enjoyable. i know you're all thinking that the only reason i like johnny cash is because he did a cover of 'hurt' by nine inch nails. and you're all right.

just kidding. he was a cool person who had an intensely interesting life and the whole thing with june made me feel all warm and mushy inside. awwwwww.

anyway- my current musical obsession is Dallas Green's solo record. you all may remember dallas from alexisonfire fame. who knew that a scrEMO artist could make such beautiful music. (well, i knew, but maybe you didn't)

in other news, the apartment hunt continues today.

*fingers crossed*

"i'd be more apathetic, if i weren't so lethargic"

i read that quote as part of a caption of a snotty cartoon that was meant to be pretentious and therefore not funny, but i still thought it was kind of funny.

anyway, the point is that it's true for me lately (and aren't things funnier when they're true?)

i am the mistress of inaction. for example, right now i am hungry. i have not yet eaten since i woke up five or so hours ago and that's because it requires going into the kitchen and cooking something which is entirely unappealing to me at this particular juncture. and thinking logically doesn't help either. i know that the longer i put off getting something to eat the more i increase my chances of feeling sick after i eat because my body is in crazed starvation mode and can't handle the assault of binge eating.

in other news, i have a solid plan to listen to this alexisonfire cd until it gets so hot from spinning in my player all day that it melts into marketable piece of mod art that i will sell for 11.6 million dollars. hey, if this idiot can get away with it, then i can too.

an explosion is imminent

one of those days...

today, if given the means, i feel that i could be capable of unspeakable horror. work was shit. tired of dealing with idiots, i am. on top of everything else- i don't need to hear that your pop is flat or that you'd like a vegetarian western despite not liking any of the vegetable ingredients listed.

one of those days... need to get it all out before i give into the compelling urge to throw myself in front of a moving vehicle (no point anyway, since they always slow down...)

irresponsible
disrespectful
cruel
hateful
thoughtless
inconsiderate
all of these things i've been called
all for wanting someone else
i can't change it
i can't fix it
i can't control it
it is what it is
i am what i am
a montstrous champion of human depravity
what can i hope to gain from any of it?
best case scenario: it's all just a mild neurosis, entirely treatable
worst case scenario: it's all true.

either way...

so tonight i'm hiding out at an internet cafe because there are kitchen knives, blunt instruments, etc, all within arms reach at the apartment. every time i leave, i'm a little concerned that all of my belongings will be set aflame in my absence- but i'm still undecided as to what's worse (losing everything, or confrontation...which is just another way of losing, in the end).

if it's all my fault i accept it.
right, wrong, cruel, painful- all i can do is accept it and move on. talking things to death, yelling, accusing, flinging insults...it accomplishes nothing. it's all in vain. there's no nutrition in anger and every night i fall asleep with an empty stomach.

hopefully apartment hunting tomorrow leads to some fruition.

"but you...you're dragging this misery on
just leave this thing for a while
it's too far gone...too far gone"

one mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi...

sans clips, it's bad news.

today i want to test out the travelling capabilities of sound. i want to seek out the tallest building in the noisiest place and whisper...

we fit.

evening, doctor

I’m an observer.

I’m always looking at people and trying to figure them out. Today as I was leaving the subway I passed by a woman heading down into the tunnel wearing very high heeled boots. I watched the expression on her face and felt like I instantly knew her story. She descended the stairs slowly, easing herself down every step with a wince. Every time her heel clicked down onto the step she carefully shifted her weight, all the while clutching onto the handrail with a white-knuckled grip. It was strange somehow to see her making such a concerted effort to hide the pain that she obviously felt; as if quietly hoping that no one would notice or judge her for wearing impractical shoes.

I feel like my mind is in a constant state of analysis. I sometimes try to hide it, as though the expression on my face is just something simple and trivial like uncomfortable shoes. But really...I am analyzing all the time.

A word, a sigh, a look. Looks are especially difficult. Sometimes you get this look as though you’re sorting through every thought you’ve ever had. . It’s a subtle and delicate process to watch a thought move through someone. Your eyes shift from left to right and then close briefly; a tenth of a second too long to qualify as blinking, but somehow too quick to save and hold on to. The whole thing just leaves me in a state of awe.

Actually, I’m in a state of transition right now. The whole thing is kind of terrifying. I can’t really describe it other than to say that at times I feel as though my heart, stomach and lungs have dissolved and run down into my shoes causing me to leave a trail of wet footprints in any direction that I run. I imagine people looking at them and telling me, “girl, you’re making a mess everywhere you go”.

The truth is, I used to be really insensitive. Whatever you wanted, whatever you needed, I couldn’t care less. It couldn’t have mattered less. And that was that. But now, more and more, these waves of uncertainty tattoo themselves just beneath my skin and in the right light, my body is a mural of your sighs and spectacular silence.

so what if you catch me, where would we land?

today i had the longest shower in the history of the world. a vain attempt to wash away my anxiousness with soap and water. and now here i am, wrinkled, slathered in african shea butter whipped body balm- and anxious, no less.

i am one of those.

those impatient, illogical people ruled by all but their minds. lately i've been thinking...if you never really know what you want, then how can you ever be satisfied?

(anon: what do you want?)
(ad: nothing...)
(anon: nothing?)
(ad: ...and everything)

i want to know everything, i want to be everywhere, i want to fuck everyone in the world, i want to do something...

...that matters.

today is a double post day because i posted a poem earlier. i decided a long time ago that posting poetry in my blog was gay, but i temporarilly forgot. i wish i could say it was due to drugs, but it was probably just stupidity and/or short term memory loss caused by t.v. somehow i feel that my nine inch nails title should make up for EVERYTHING.

today is so lame. this whole day reeks of lame, actually. except for the headphones part.

lately every day is an uneven mixture of boredom and anger. i feel like every little thing sends me into a swirl of rage. on top of that everyone keeps asking me what my deal is like we're all best friends and they'll hold all my secrets tightly against their chests and so on and so forth. the reality is that everyone at the bar is a nosey fucking gossip queen looking to spread some more bullshit around. i used to think the rumour mill at work was kind of funny. that is, until people started coming up to me all like 'oooh, i heard this and that about you and whomever and blah blah' and i stand there and nod and smile and defend and hold back the screams that are clutching at my throat.

i just re-read that paragraph. and, man, i think we can all agree that i looks like an eight year old wrote it.

carrying on:

so to alleviate some stressful tension that i was experiencing i decided to hit up the liquor store and (because i'm so lucky of course) i see a customer from the bar in there who's all like, 'oooh, looky looky who's buying booze all by herself'. to add to the lameness quotient, by the time i got home i was too bored and tired from walking to bother getting drunk alone so i just sat at my computer clicking the 'next blog' button in between watching quicktime movie previews on apple.com and watching re-runs of csi on showcase. by the way, i'm aware of all you csi haters out there (i mean you, anthony) and i already said that today sucked so just can it.

i'm off to sulk.

later biyotches.

"someplace holy, like the vatican..."

today i bought enormous headphones. they sound beautiful. now i just need the matching enyce jacket and pink baby phat shoes (smarm, smarm).

also- i wrote for hours today. on paper! it made me realize how over indulgent my computer use has become and, as a result, i can barely hold a pen anymore. my hand was cramping like crazy and my handwriting is SHIT.

so i've decided something...

people with perfect handwriting must never feel pressed by their thoughts. when i'm writing i feel like i'm in a race with my mind, and if i don't get everything out as quickly as possible, it will all be lost to the abyss.

so that's that.
and this is this (something from the vault):

(jm: hey, do you mind if i submit this to be considered for the english award?)
(ad: no, you can submit it.)
(jm: ok, good, because you already won.)
(ad: i'm so wicked.)

Head Full of Water
head full of water
like my head full of water
i only care about what's brand new
but that's me
all skin
and skin deep

used to be time was crucial
but now i could just sleep
for twenty one out of twenty four
if i thought i could get away with it
like so many other things
i just lie
lie like its the end of the world
and all that's at stake
isn't my integrity
it's yours
and my head full of water

like a head full of water
i only care about
whats in your pockets
but that's just me
all skin
and skin deep

used to be faith was crucial
but not for pagans like me
not for bastards like me
and now they're one in five
by your nineteenth birthday
like so many other things
it's not me praying
it's just me hearing
what i want to
through a head full of water

like a head full of water
i only care about your next one
but that's me
all skinned
and skin deep

i can't help but feeling, i could blow through the ceiling, if i just turn and run...

Lately whenever I try to sit down and write, my mind starts wandering into fantasy land (which is where most of my daily living takes place, unfortunately). In the physical realm, I’m just staring at the blinking cursor on a blank computer screen. In fantasy land, however, I’m immersed in a myriad of activity: replaying conversations and images and senses and feelings and words in my mind. On and on it goes until I eventually take notice of the little clock in the bottom corner and realize that an hour has passed and that I’ve accomplished exactly nothing.

What usually snaps me out of it is actually this awful daydream that I sometimes have. Whenever I’m thinking about how I might be on the verge of happiness- I have this waking dream (not a drug-induced hallucination, by the way darlings) that the ceiling is caving in on me. When I’m sitting at the computer, lost in fantasy land, sometimes I’ll lean back and in my mind I see the ceiling of my apartment crumbling above me piece by piece (a la 40 days and 40 nights) It’s not as terrifying as it might sound. Mostly it’s just disappointing. And that’s how it ends- I’m buried in concrete and stucco and all I can manage is a mildly irate sigh. And then it’s back to reality.


reality is for suckers

this ocean is wrapped around that pineapple tree

I make little boats.

tiny paper boats that my grandfather taught me how to make. He learned how to make them during the four years that he lived in an orphanage. He and his friends used to float them around in the Adriatic sea, which is where my name comes from. My mother couldn’t decide on a name for me and so I remained nameless for days after I was born, until he picked one for me.

But back to the boats…

I make them to remind myself of my grandfather and all of the genius that he was. I lived with him from the day that I was born until the day he died when I was sixteen. He was a successful engineer, brilliant linguist, opera lover, lifetime member of the national geographic society, chef extraordinaire and my soul mate. From him, I learned to speak Italian, read Shakespeare, write calligraphy, grow vegetables and appreciate pacifism.

So, the boats…

If I meet someone who I think represents his patience, or genius, or humour, I’ll give them one- but never say why.

It’s how I leave my finger print on someone. Even if they don’t know- I know. I guess I have strange ways of making myself known.



do you think i'm crazy yet?

I got my head, but my head is unraveling, can't keep control, can't keep track of where it's travelling

the NIN show last night was incredible. To start off, L.A is clearly agreeing with Trent as he was sporting short hair, huge arms and a tan(!?!). He’s come a long way from the pasty, angry, Orleans-based, goth-rocker with the stringy hair and child-molester ‘stache that I remember from the old days. In all honesty though- I thought he was pretty fucking hot then too.

Oh, me.

Anyway- the setlist was glorious. He opened with pinion and closed with head like a hole. In between, we were graced with the aural pleasures of terrible lie, the wretched (be still my heart), something I can never have, closer, eraser, wish and hurt (among others). During right where it belongs, they made clever use of a sheer scrim to show the usual video of insects, decay and george bush.

DFA 1979 and Queens of the Stone Age both opened to minor fanfare. I enjoy both bands, but the anticipation for my beloved trent to hit the stage overshadowed my interest in their performances exponentially.

So all in all, trent rocked the house. The show contained all of the usual goodies that fans have come to expect: trent threw a multitude of water bottles into the pit (a tradition), inserted the word ‘fuck’ into the song lyrics where appropriate as he is mindful of PFP (proper fuck placement), and lastly, he wore sexy leather pants and jumped around a lot.

What else could a girl ask for?


Victoria and I


Trent in all his god-like glory


Thousands of lighters lit during ‘hurt’


Vic and I with the obligatory post-show cinnabon at union station


My highschool prom date, trevor

maybe just to look into your headlight morning glow

my greatest fear is being alone. it's also my absolute worst quality as it causes me to emotionally abuse myself and others because the idea of loneliness is just too terrifying of an alternative.

I want love so badly. I want attention and fixation and infatuation and tenderness and emotion and clarity and purity and depth. I live so much of my life on the surface and it’s really a shame. And the truth of it all is that I’m really terrified that if anyone ever found out what was going on underneath my skin and muscle, deep in the impulses of my brain- they would scream out loud the way I scream inside.



i might delete this tomorrow... i just needed to get it out.

if only we could heal ourselves, we wouldn't need to be hooked up to these machines

i'm officially obsessed with this video by alexisonfire. it has this bringing out the dead-isque quality that i find oh so interesting.

my sister, tabitha, is a paramedic, maybe that's why. i listen to all of her stories about resuscitating teen age drug overdoses and picking up her 'regular customers', including the dude who binge drinks Aqualvelva and passes out in front of the mall. it's such a strange culture and i'm endlessly fascinated by it.


if you ever see this woman, be kind, she might save your life one day

you got your lovey dovey sad and lonely stick your stupid slogan in everybody sing are you motherfuckers ready for the new shit?

so nothing's new. today i have curly hair. that's about it.

When I die and they take out my heart, they will be seized by wonder at all of your words tattooed upon it.

lately i've been thinking about this fable that i read in elementary school.

A scorpion and a frog meet on the bank of a river. As the scorpion cannot swim, he asks the frog to carry him across on his back. The frog replies “I will not, for how will I know that you won’t sting me?”

“If I sting you, then I will die too- for you see, I cannot swim” the scorpion assured.

The frog sees the logic in this and agrees to carry the scorpion across the river. Just as they are about the reach the opposite shore, the scorpion stings the frog. As the frog feels the onset of paralysis, he looks up at the scorpion in shock and asks “Why have you done this? Now we will both drown!”

The scorpion replies, “I can’t help it....I’m a scorpion, it’s my nature.”

And they both sank into the muddy swirls of the river.

ten years ago when i first read the fable, it didn't really mean anything to me. now, i see it as a secret of the universe, this idea of nature. no matter who you are or what you evolve into, you cannot control your nature- even if it leads you to self-destruction.

we are what we are what we are what we are

hnt

legs

strobe lights and blown speakers, fireworks and hurricanes, i'm not here...this isn't happening

today was a gloomy day. an eeyore day, if you will.

it didn't actually rain, but all day it looked like it might, which is worse. this type of weather does not inspire. not remotely.

i finished reading the alchemist by paulo coelho yesterday. the book was given to me by a bosnian guy named boris that i served at the bar a few weeks ago. he wrote a dedication to me that read, "every person, all the events of your life are there because you have drawn them there. what you choose to do with them is up to you." so i started reading the book a few days ago and now i can't stop thinking about it. there's a line in it that reads, "when you want something, all the world conspires in helping you achieve it". i keep repeating that phrase in my mind. say it three times and it's true. more on that later.

next week, victoria and i are going to see nine inch nails in toronto. queens of the stone age and death from above 1979 are opening so it should prove to be a fan-freakin-tastic show. i saw nin the last time they toured in '99 at the ripe old age of 16 with my ex-boyfriend jeremy. i remember being completely baffled at the uncanny ability people had in hotboxing maple leaf gardens. it is a fairly large arena, after all.


is the universe on my side?

long time running

i've been delinquent lately. things are crazy for me right now and it's making it hard to focus on the simplest tasks, such as blogging. so deal.

in other news, emily of the west town and i hit the party scene saturday night in our fabulous halloween garb and i have the pictures to prove it.

i'm a greek goddess

emily as a bar wench

my lovely co-workers mandy and jocelyne