| yes, no, maybe so |
[29 Jan 2007|05:07pm] |
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This morning, the street was glittered with baby faces and baby names. This was on account of yesterday's Montreal Gazette "Babies of 2006" insert.
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[28 Jan 2007|09:08pm] |
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listlessness is blissfulness
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| cornual caprice |
[15 Jan 2007|10:16pm] |
pornonthecob.ca
The Late gerald ford Pardoned The Capricious richard nixon, september 8th, 1974. Nixon was a capricorn but so were Sontag and Povich.
Meanwhile, she went to bed fully clothed, but it was unclear as to which day she was partial: the foregoing or the forthcoming. Ice roads were her favourite, she said, but it was unclear as to what the fuck she was talking about:
today, as it snowed, I was yeaned from carte blanche canadian country.
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| "melissa" |
[14 Dec 2006|06:36pm] |
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And then we took her out back where we were alone and talked about how all sex is rape. She seemed to object, but it was fitting for her to do so. After all, she had admitted early on that the reason she had come to the bar alone that night was because her neighbours were audibly having sex. And while civilly one might assume such a divulgence to be indicative of a distaste for sex, to me it was clear she was lonely and just wanted some for herself. Perhaps it was her drunken over-eagerness or maybe it was something physical, perhaps we were too unassuming of guys, but we eventually declined her innocent advances as we spilled down the steep steps and out onto the Main.
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| rocket man |
[26 Nov 2006|11:20pm] |
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Astounded by his own irrationality sometimes, he returns the previously unopened bag of thinly sliced ham to the refrigerator after greedily using nearly half to make a sandwich he hardly even wanted. He is standing over the toaster oven in the kitchen in everything but his pants which are in the dryer in a novice attempt to remove the wrinkles they had developed on account of having been folded so poorly the first time. He is in a rush, but he is perpetually delayed by the looming sense of inadequacy and inferiority he makes up in his presence. More and more frequently he puts himself up in his room, alone, and on this particular day, like the rest, he woke up alone, late, and in a mad dash to get where he only slightly feels like he needs to be. The toaster oven dings with an air he perceives as either completely pompous or pompously complete, and he hastily packs up his lunch. The pants are still severely wrinkled. He throws them on anyway, grabs his bag and heads out the door.
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| an allegory I guess |
[15 Nov 2006|10:18pm] |
It wasn't long after he told me how a waiter got mad at him earlier for asking that his eggs be scrambled that our conversation took a theological turn.
"Everybody wants to find God," he says, "everybody." Shifting in his seat he leans to point at the overcast sky between the building across the street and the awning under which we sit. "And a lot of people think God is going to come from the Heaven." He pauses to make sure I am leaning over to look at the sky with him. "Woo!" he sighs, drawing us both upright in our seats again as he shakes his head and makes tsk noises with his tongue. "Listen, Lee it's like this," he says turning square to me, squinting his right eye as he is apt to do when concentrating, "Your mother and your father, they get married. Your mother, she get pregnant. With you. Your mother she is pregnant with you. But then they split. Your mother and your father they get divorced. Your father, he moves away. He goes to California. But your mother, she stays in Chicago. So then you get born, and you grow up and you ask your mother, 'Where is my father?' She doesn't know. She doesn't know. So tell me, Lee, how are you going to find your father?"
"I don't know," I say.
"So how are you going to find God?" He pauses. "So how are you going to find God?" He pauses. "How are you going to find God?"
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| FORUM |
[06 Nov 2006|05:55pm] |
Seeing as Dentalitarianism, our cute little project, has no current objectives I would propose that we use some space here to sketch out some ideas. I have one reservation however: Dentalitarianism does not yet exist.
While initially disheartened by this realization, I have come to appreciate it more and more. It is this nonexistence from which Dentalitarianism presently draws its tremendous strength.
I mean, at least I hope so.
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| Helpful Hints |
[31 Oct 2006|08:24pm] |
A. tit-for-twat
B. dentalitarianism: who has teeth?
1. do cowboys have teeth?
2. John Wayne's teeth?
3. who has John Wayne's teeth?
C. Bad Company
1. by the band Bad Company
a. off the album Bad Company
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[18 Oct 2006|08:24pm] |
Is water fluoridation an ethical public health measure?
helpful but biased reading: http://www.holisticmed.com/fluoride/
Also: there is no fluoride in Montreal tap water.
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| Once upon a time our hearts were crafted |
[18 Oct 2006|04:39am] |
Once upon a time our hearts were crafted, but
(a) since then neither too little nor too much has happened to anyone
(b) skee ball and earwax are aesthetically very similar
(c) post-dentalitarianism, we have no teeth
(d) pizza is SO gross
(e) sometimes I hate opening my window because it smells like Craig's Cruisers' arcade outside. That day I went there with Adele and Dan and Chris and Charlie I think I was being a bit of a baby.
1) how much waste does the film industry generate?
2) how much waste does the average bowling alley generate?
3) are pre-dentalitarianism and post-dentalitarianism the same concept?
4) how come Adele always brings up how her dentist and her oral hygienist got married? Why is this important? What is the significance?
(f) having a conversation with people is like walking with people: the more you have the slower progress becomes. Thus walking and talking should be done in small groups.
fuck off
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| Cracker Barrel Old Country Store |
[04 Oct 2006|03:16pm] |
I sleep below a map of the continental United States. On it are state lines and interstates and Cracker Barrels. There is a Cracker Barrel map on the ceiling above my bed.
Sometimes before I sleep I lay in bed and wonder about the distribution of Cracker Barrels in the United States, all 445 of them. Sometimes I try to figure out which 9 states do not have Cracker Barrels. Othertimes I look at the map and see all the Cracker Barrels clogging the arteries of America and I get a little sad. I think about the times I've been to Cracker Barrel, usually with my family, stopping on Sunday mornings after weddings, eating grits.
I've been dreaming more frequently lately, and while there are probably plenty of more reasonable explanations, I'd like to believe it's because of my Cracker Barrel map. I don't dream about Cracker Barrel, but I'm starting to think the map serves as a paper dreamcatcher. The good dreams are captured by the web of highways. The bad dreams are released through all the holes were the Cracker Barrels are.
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[22 Sep 2006|02:45pm] |
Perhaps an interesting byproduct of the portrayal of black culture by the media is to show how far certain people are removed from the real thing.
On some days, someone will attempt to say a few words in "African American Vernacular English," jokingly or otherwise, and he'll ask, "Wait, what's that from?" with such a sharpened-eye earnestness that one could almost believe a whole nation's existence could be limited to TV.
In some conversations, someone will make an outrageous claim, jokingly or otherwise, and he'll demand, "Nigga, please," with such a bizarre dislocation that one could almost believe a whole nation's plight could simultaneously be internalized and ejaculated into outer-space.
I mean I'm not denying that there aren't some characteristics of AAVE that make it both catchy and quotable. Nor am I denying that I am probably just as far removed black culture. But if media is supposed to be a force that binds us, a common experience, all it really serves to do is desensitize us from the power of our own observations. I'd rather have a minimal knowledge of "what a black person is" and learn in honest good faith than have a million hours of the Cosby show weighing in the back of my mind every time I walk down the fucking street.
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| vélo |
[20 Sep 2006|04:33pm] |
For potentially the first time in my entire life I forcefully got rid of the itch in the back of my throat I get when I have a cold. I did it by peddling as hard as I could up the hill on Rue Berri near the bus station and subsequently hacking up all the hard, smelly phlegm that was lodged in the post-nasal drip area of nose. These were not my original hour-between-class plans. I would have purchased and drank coffee and read some Don DeLillo novel like the flannel-adorning idiot I make myself out to be had I not run into my friend who had both the same hour free and aspirations to spend it on a bike downtown.
Montreal is nice and I hate how I sound whiny when I have a cold.
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| Home! At long last!!! |
[16 Jun 2006|12:59am] |
Today I realized that if you do enough weird stuff by yourself such as (1) praying by the fountain in your neighbor's backyard , (2) swimming in the lake at dawn, (3) smoking cigarettes on the roof of an empty parking garage, you'll find yourself in a situation where conditionally it would make absolute sense to commit suicide.
"Why am I here?" you'll ask, "Why did I bring along this empty note book and this pen? Why didn't I tell anyone where I was going?" Contemplating the nature of your spontaneity in a sudden moment of sobriety, you'll peer over the edge, perhaps a more than a little tempted.
It'll happen. I promise.
And not to mock anyone who's depressed or has ever been depressed, maybe even including myself, would perfect conditions alone ever be a good enough reason to actually do something like this?
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[07 May 2006|10:07pm] |
Although I am very much looking forward to coming back in September, right now:
I'm tired of hockey, I'm tired of French, I'm tired of Canadian beer, I'm tired of Canadian cigarettes, I'm tired of the cold, I'm tired of Steve Nash, I'm tired of the queen, I'm tired of the loonies and the toonies, and I'm pretty fucking tired of the empty feeling emanating from this stagnant and growingly hollow city. I'm ready to get on that train to Windsor on Wednesday, and I'm ready for summer.
Also: Fuck the Toronto Blue Jays. I have $30(CAN) resting on them losing this season.
See you all so very soon.
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[05 May 2006|04:52pm] |
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new hat
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