describe the youngest baby you’ve ever held and how it felt in your arms.

holding babies makes me feel super uptight and nervous – everyone is smiling ’cause you are holding this little life in your hands. im sitting there envisioning me dropping it on its head or letting it fall down the stairs, that would freak me right out. i always seem to be the cloest one standing near a baby when something bad happens so i avoid holding them as much as possible, the whole scene is really annoying. quite gay. you’re expected to say nice things about the kid and shit when all babies look and act exactly the same. i always say the wrong thing like, “oh, uhh, i heard that a kid’s blanket is extremely flammable, something to look out for, eh.” babies suck until they are old enough to say rude things and destroy shit.

my coke story

i was 16. i was sitting on the sofa in the livingroom of the “hangout” spot in town. i wasn’t suppose to be there but i went all the time in secret. i was sitting beside this short guy named ian or something – maybe chris. i forget. i was probably drunk. short guy starts in on his coke and would you like some he says. to him i say like im not talking enough as it is? what’s coke after all the e i’ve ever tried, it’s next to nothing. so i do some. then i do some more. then i can’t stop talking to the short guy about this that the other and then i go home.

when i was 8 i stole a miniature porno slide thing (like one of those viewmasters) from our family hairdresser’s guest bathroom. it was sitting on the toilet tank, on a doiley-covered tp roll, i dont remember what. it belonged to her husband, no doubt – the hairy, scarey italian sleazeball. her name was angie, the hairdresser and she wasa bitch. she was rough with my hair a lot, not being very delicate with my tangles when she brushed them out. anyway, the porno slide thing. it held 20 or so pictures of naked women on the beach or under waterfall or playing tennis and they were wearing golden bikinis or thongs or nothing at all. it was SO 80’s. blue plastic. and it fit in the palm of your hand. it was compact and cute and sexy and cheesy and made me feel turned-on a bit. i hid it in my closet, underneath a bunch of toys and stuff. it was my dirty secret and made me feel very guilty and nervous that one day it would be found and i’d be exposed as one of those lesbians, but i wasn’t. i eventually gave it to my brother. i said i had found it in the park and played dumb, asking what the hell it was suppose to be. he fell for it and showed it off to all his dumb friends and they all gave each other high fives and ran away. he got bored of it and so i acquired it once again for many many years until…

i gave it to eric for his birthday this summer. i wish i didnt ’cause now i realise it is valuable and someone might want to buy it off me for like five hundred dollars. hmmm. though i have vintage playboys, if you’s want them, email me. one from ’67 and one with farrah fawcett on the cover with the centrefold in-tact. maybe i should wait ’til she dies before i release THAT gem. anyway, im gonna put a bunch of shit together soon, take photos of all the crap i dont want anymore. my own personal ebay, yes yes.

subway haiku

i am all fucked up

and i am on the subway

we are now at keele

hometown haiku

this job is just hell

this town is so damn joyless

i hate everyone

i’m losing the ability to make sense of things

people cut through the parking lot of the hardware store all the time like it’s a fucking drive-thru i feel like putting down spike strips

deletia

my insides feel like garbage

the day is going but oh so slowly

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