i’m paying $3 an hour to blog today at a cafe so you fuckers better appreciate it also get ready for some CHANGES! i seem to have chosen the computer with the blurriest monitor and zero track lighting and i already have to dump there are people all around me and i can’t fart cos i’m wearing headphones and i know it will end up being like bongos falling down the stairs and bouncing off spandex and fart sounding implements.
ps i am already the most annoying person here cos i keep sniffling and swallowing my phlegm.
i watched a sarah harmer music video today and i closed my eyes to see if i could enjoy it like that for the first time and not the depressing early afternoon much more music way, where it’s like hello here is the crap we don’t want real people with jobs to be subjected to. i felt like my ovaries were aging and covered in dust and i was wearing a white nightie and winding up a fucking mobile over a cradle and i had massive crow’s feet sorry i just can’t get into that lilith dyke shit. i mean, in a field with whiskey raining from the sky setting off fireworks, yes i can dig it, on the couch with no internet = I AM SO FUCKING DEPRESSED FOR MYSELF RIGHT NOW.
i just wrote a whole bunch of other shit that i deleted cos fil gave me a talking-to saying i was dissing a bunch of people indirectly but to me i was just being funny, i guess musicians are sensitive and so is fil cos he wants to have sex with all of them.
not only do i feel like i don’t exist now that i can’t readily use the internet the second my eyes open, i feel like i don’t have a reason to exist, i feel purposeless and as i was crying to celine dion on oprah today i realised hey why not write some shit down pen paper styles?
so i looked all over for a notebook that didn’t have gay scribbles, ip addresses, and my made-up juvenile signature on every fucking page after a quadruple espresso but then i got into cleaning mode and everything in the kitchen is now rearranged/spotless and every clever observation i had is now gone. i was so internet jonesing i thought i might even write a song and it was going to begin like this;
I CAN’T WRITE A SONG….
it was going to be very indie but i couldn’t find my notebook so whatever.
i saw the devil wears prada with lise and it was BAD. i read the book and thoroughly enjoyed it so i was expecting great stuff. plus there was a screaming baby in the theatre that needed to be drowned. lise said the movie made her feel violently angry, me, just depressed. i was hoping for a great distraction. also they say in the movie that size 6 is the new 14.
AND anne hathawhateverway does a lot of unnecessary smiling innit and you are like why is she smiling at the sky everyone is mean to her, her relationship is ending everyone calls her fat WHY THE FUCK IS SHE SMILING THAT DOPEY FUCKING SMILE!?
i discovered a new weight-loss method and it is lying under the comforter and being sick and sweating like mad on one of toronto’s hottest summer days for several hours and thinking about how much your life sucks.
i get a kick out of the shopper’s drug mart “cosmotologists” what with their tiny little cash-out booth, and they get really annoyed when they actually have to cash you out like hello that skanky fat ass can choose her britney spears perfume ON HER OWN! i’m sorry to inconvenience you out of NOT doing your job so fucking sorry let me make it up to you how about come over to my place with yer wigger poser boyfriend who hangs around your little jewellery section and he can feel you up whilst i get completely wasted and then you can complain about having to ring through some baby oil and gillette razers OMG! ps is the make-up section cashier kiosk like optional? cos if it is such a big fucking deal to let people pay for their items there opposed to the grocery store style cash lines why not perhaps GETTING THE FUCK RID OF IT YOU PIECES OF SHIT FAILED MAKE-UP ARTISTS!!!!!!!!!1?
That is the sound I always make when I have an opinion that is not going to be shared by anyone else in the room but I’m determined to share it anyway because I have some complex where I need to hear the sound of my own voice or somehow satisfy a desire to be right. Not to say that I’m always right, actually I’m very often wrong. You would think I’d learn to keep my big fat trap shut but I don’t. I annoy myself, and probably everyone I know. Maybe I’m that kid that everyone keeps around because they feel sorry for him. Or more likely because I make them feel better about themselves because they can all say “at least I’m not as annoying as Jarom” and other slanderous shit like that. But screw them, if I had it my way I’d reinstitute public floggings, and every Saturday I’d choose a child at random to be tossed into the sun. All to satisfy my demands for justice… have you ever read A Modest Proposal? It’s jacked but a must read.
Anyway, I did have something to say… You’re a mess! A beautiful tragic mess. I’ve been reading your blog for a bit now and it’s like being caught in the black whole of daytime television, the Maury Povich show. No matter how much I want to change the channel I can’t, I must know who the daddy is? What did the lie detector reveal? What is the terrible secret she’s been keeping? It’s been like discovering an awesome band that you think nobody knows about only to find out you’ve jumped on a very large band wagon that has been rolling down your street for three years two months six hours and thirty-seven seconds.
As someone with OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) reading about your life drives my fckn batty, I can’t stand it, its disorganized chaos yet I’m ensnared and captivated by it. You live like I only imagine, and when I do it’s a nightmare that I wake from in a cold sweet. But it leaves me more alive and invigorated.
I keep lists, not your ordinary lists like one of all the amazing things I want to see before I die but retarded list of things I want to say at the most perfect moment, a moment that will come along only once and if I don’t use my quote that perfect moment my chance to use it is likely gone forever. I have a new list; it’s a list of all the brilliant things Raymi has written. I’ve had to rewrite it a couple times because my printing wasn’t neat enough… but it’s a good list.
the problem with helping people other than it being a total waste of time is that it only serves to perpetuate their helplessness and validate it for them. people that need help are lazy and the only reason they don’t get it is because they don’t pay attention when someones there to show them what the fuck they need to do. they are somehow under the assumption that you are there to do it for them and that its gonna do them any good to have the right answers if they don’t know how they got there. it is pretty much decided i am not interested in tutoring because smart kids don’t need help.
i have to go blow my nose now because fil said he will punch me in it if i don’t, i keep sniffling. ps i never really learned how to blow my nose properly what with the fanatic picking of it and all.
