i’m sorry i slept all day long today. i should know better. i want you to know i didn’t mean to sleep as long as i did. i went to the bovine sex club last nite after work and then i went to marche and ate a waffle and then i went home and watched cast away and i cried inside during all the sad parts although i already saw this movie before. i’m kinda bad at watching movies with people, whether i’ve seen the movie before or not, i think out loud and ask questions and go, “OHHHH!!!!!!” when i have figured out what is going to happen. people get angry at me and then i get angry at them for getting angry at me and i’m all, “WHAT THE FUCK SIT OVER THERE THEN!” and then they think it is kinda funny but really we are both very very annoyed at one another. urrrg.
Speaking of Marche, (which is in the BCE Building) I fucking dig this place. I go at least 20 times a year. it’s perfect for my impulsive-needing-immediate-gratification-stupid-ass. you go in the market-thing and pick and choose what you want, serve yourself, sit down, eat and then leave. it’s like a cafeteria for those with more disposable income. the servers are all faux-fancy, total fresh-off-the-boat hirees. one dude helped me put ice chips in my glass of free fountain water and he looked at me all cock-eyed, expecting a tip or something. a gratuity charge of 12 per cent is automatically tacked onto your bill, where that goes, i have no idea. i doubt the company cares for their employees and is all, “there you go Billy, here’s yer extra money.” suuuure. the cool thing ’bout the place is you get this piece of paper and they stamp it everytime you get something like ice cream or a steak or a beer and then at the end you give this special piece of paper to the cashier and they tally up everything you ate. now, the thing in accepting this piece of paper is you are agreeing to the terms and all penalties in the event of you misplacing this piece of paper. what happens if you misplace it? they fine you 100 dollars bail or two days of dishwashing,straight-up. why? because MOVENPICK are deutsch assholes who run under the assumption that people want to steal hundreds of dollars worth of their mediocre cuisine. this marche i believe is the only one that is market-style and i think when they first opened up people were stealing food and walking right out the door without paying, so the special piece of paper method is what they thought up to avoid all that nastyness.
and there you have it. the food is good and i like the atmosphere. it’s at yonge and front. don’t hate me if it sucks for you. suckbag.
tomorrow raymi is gathering a posse and posse and raymi are going to the gladstone hotel for dirtbag karaoke. i hope we actually show up this time. i dunno, after 10pm? Queen st. W and the corner of Gladstone, before Dufferin. if it blows ass you can find me under a table at the cadillac lounge, up the street.
my roommate just called to tell me that my clothing rack collapsed and now my clothes are all over the floor in my room and i am having an anxiety attack over here envisioning it. arrrggghh!
oh and did you know that Brett Lamb made fun of me sort of and then he gave me ten american dollars. hahaahaaaaa. nice. great name by the way, i knew a guy named brett and he got decked by the side-mirror of this van right in the head and itmade him grow up totally retarded. hmm, i guess that part isn’t really funny, but, yah, kind of ’cause i’m laughing to myself right now. ohhhh. jeeez. i also extremely love bitterman.
This just might be the dumbest thing i do to date but you know, i don’t much care anymore. wait, i DO care, i really do. it’s probably this caring-business that gets me into the trouble i get myself into. i want to help people, i want success for me and for you and i want to give you all my money and even put my own safety in jeopardy to help benefit your cause, but you know, it’s this undying belief that you really won’t hurt me or show up with explosives and this belief makes me do the things i do and say the things i say.
i have broken my mother’s heart and soon my father will disown me and my brother is so ashamed. i just don’t fit into their mould and i do not meet their expectations. now, they simply want me to stop being a junky and to stop being so fucking depressed.
i’ve kept secrets for a very very very long time. i’ve played one side against the other, i’ve been manipulative and deceitful and arrogant and petty.
i’ve decided not to lie anymore.
i’ve decided you can see me live and see what i do for a living and all that jazz. but i will not show you my vagina. i won’t. and you can buy time and talk to me on the phone and have a big picture and free sound, or you can just login as a guest and view me for five minutes and keep logging back in over and over. right now it is a free site, it makes money via private purchases. there are also ten other girls who work for the site. we are live models. there is no porn but there sometimes are girl on girl shows which are kinda boring. i don’t know for how much longer i will be working at this site. something has to change. i know i know. i’ve been doing it since late june and i have so much free time it is disgusting.
you can mingle with pervs and watch them complain about all this shit they’re getting for free like sound and video and a hot half naked bitch and they go, “lemme see your pussssy” and they are all pakis and stuff. heheh. it’s great fun. people who don’t understand the concept of FREE really piss me off. you register with a credit card via paypal or through the company, there is no monthly fee. read FAQ or ask a member. yah. the benefits of membership are free sound and a big picture, guests have a tiny screen to view. and it’s a fucking great video feed. that is all. just be there you homos. oh right, and my stage name is nikola. hahaa. and my next shift after that is sunday the 12th 6-9pm my time. you can check the schedule on the site every week for my hours. wheeee! tony pierce looked at it and he fell in love, just ask him. oh right and if you take me private there is a 1800 number u can call in for free if u live in north america and we can have cheap phone sex and/or complain about bingo and gas prices. there is also sound if you are a member but don’t want to go private. nice!
there’s this dude who strolls around one of them 24hr. grocery shoppin’ joints and last time we went he finally talked to us and it was not less than ten seconds after this photo been’dun taken. he said in a russian accent, “there is no pho-to-graphs allowed to be takinin ‘distore.” we shit our pants. he fucking bums me out. like he jumps out from behind a display of bounty paper towels in the hopes of catching us in the act of stealing and i’m all in the middle of comparing basmati to jasmin rice. so we irritate him with our thiefing of the cheese crusty bits that fall off the bakery pizza buns. they can’t charge you for those but still we know it aggrivates the guy. i don’t want to talk about him anymore. he hurts my feelings because he never smiles at me.
sometimes i don’t want a penis or a face, you know, just be subhuman
like a robot? a-sexual?
yah.
i don’t think i’m naked enough or pretty enough in that photo up there.
oh.
yah.
i’m listening to tom jones with portishead and tom jones is saying over and over, “sumtiiiiiiimes i feeeeeel like a motherless child.” why does he sound so sad? i don’t understand. tom joens is suppose to be uppity and happy and nice and makes everyone smile like carlton on fresh prince of bel air. anyhow, now another song is on and it is just portishead.
i heard you filled up five condoms with water in the bathtub last nite and they looked like alien babies floating around in there and then you popped them all except one and put that one on the balcony to let it freeze but it didn’t when you looked at it this morning. four were sheik condoms the other was a miscellaneous condom that you found in your mum’s house that your friend left there ’cause he thought he might get laid that nite.
but not by me.
not by you.
my neighbour.
you’re very protective of your sex-life and secretive about it all.
yes i feel extremely protective of my body that’s why i woulda been so annoyed had i gotten raped that other nite.
oh yah, i agree.
my friends want to M U UUU RDER that dude. then we would be true criminals and go on a convertible ride through texas to mexico and hawaii, right?
but he didn’t even rape you.
yes but if he did it would just be embarassing for him and make him feel uncomfortable.
why?
his body looked slack and his hair was like a faggy music composer’s and he had a hobbit-face.
oh wow, how traumatizing.
do you think he is still out there waiting for me? i think there are probably at least 30 people who want to kill me to date.
so now i’m awake and it’s 6:30pm. darkness again. all over again. i guess i should sort this blog’s posts in sequence, what? a guy is over right now telling us all about joe millionaire and that joe isn’t really a millionaire and it’s pretty fucking entertaining seeing as i’ve just woken up from a string of nitemares and have rolled a few joints out of boredom. man, women and their visions of riches. i love it. ok i’ll write back in a minute.
i think i need to put on some music and maybe some clothes not in the bathrobe-genre.
maybe i need to write when i actually have something meaningful to say.
Dear Perry of Hello Toast,
you know i still fucking got it. that’s it. mega-after-three-in-the-fucking-morning supermarket shopping sweeps.
i regret not having e-mailed john roth like you at hello toast really wanted me to but whatever, i have had it with wrinkly old dinks and dusty prehistoric money. it’s like can i please not suck your old cock? can i please walk around your big, empty house with my leg warmers drooping to my ankles and fuck-me knees and raccoon eyes and scream at you for valium? no, really?
perry, i want you to tell me what is so patti smythwhatthefuck about me. ok?
send me the link to the first hellotoast blind date you did. you know i am going to be on this blind date show soon enough if i can stop living out my own requiem for a dream movie. we just checked to make sure that is how you spelt “requiem” and it is. IT IS!
oh and i’m being nice, by the way.
can you email me some food stamps? the cat says hello.
you know i think one of my favorite pastimes is being skinny, fancy and drunk and hilarious and walking to the bathroom every half hour to be alone and go durrrrrrr to myself on the toilet and when i get up from my chair my feet are wet and slippery in my old man shoes and then i might just fall down in front of everyone and go oh poo-haw, poo-haw to the room and then it’s ok.
i also quite enjoy late-nite food shopping sprees and figuring out what popcorn is the best and cheapest and bestest deal and convincing people we ought to buy some fucking Tide Mountain Spring although we ain’t doing no goddamn laundry for another week or two. patrons, cashiers, servers, homeless people fucking HATE me. ok so, we’re a fan of getting the last box of something on the shelf and we get stuck in snowbanks and we like to stay up ’til 6am and drink tonic orange juices and visit guys who belong in Lord of the Rings and if we immitate Gary Oldman in LEON -The Professional one more time it wouldn’t be too soon. you know the beads part and where he accuses that guy of not liking Beethoven and asks Natalie Portman what food is in the bag and she says she wants love or death and the glasses of milk and the ugly pig sister and the beautiful staircases in those buildings.
i talked a lot in a small room with a slanty roof and i explained a long distance phone bill in maine and a letter i wrote to Oprah Winfrey to get me out of a debt that wasn’t mine or i had any business in paying off and i used my hands to explain these things and i said, “Know your rights with creditors they can’t come and get you in the middle of the nite” and then we got magic mushrooms and tomorrow i guess you’ll know the rest.
i want to go to the cheese shoppe right now and eat handfuls of aged gouda and this other mysterious italian cheese
and i want to wear my old man shoes
and old man hat
and say old man things
to other old men
i snuck into my ex-boyfriend’s room yesterday and saw he had a file called, “raymi is a slut” and innit were all these pictures of me
i was so baked so i left what was suppose to be a profound message on his desktop
i know others who live in that house
i didn’t actually break and enter
that would be crazy
it smells like nail polish right now
which reminds me, i wanted to put on some new nail polish
and watch the rest of the the professional
“You don’t like Beethoven”
i need to take iron pills or eat more or not eat less or get a job where being skinny pays off ’cause all this light-headedness is getting me nowhere but the kitchen floor. i’m not dieting, i’m just not really eating. much. but it’s SO h o t.
i have not weighed one hundred and tweny one pounds since i was in grade nine.
it’s great. i buy new jeans and after a week they no longer fit.
i fall all over the place and can’t do any laundry.
i’ve been a right cunt.
i got these campers-type shoes and i can’t stop thinking of them being cummed all over.
i’m dirty and i don’t care.
could be worse
i could be christina aguilera
ew
abner said this about me. we hated him at first but now we love him.
I find Raymi to be disgusting, awful and totally self destructive and self loathing. And I can’t resist it. It’s getting damned addictive. I must hit her site 2 or 3 times a day. It’s like being drawn to a beautiful rattlesnake. I can’t jack off to her pictures or anything because of the self loathing it would engender in me. It’s just that powerful. She’s a little girl and she’s a Mati Hari. She’s awfully ignorant and she is wise beyond her years. She doesn’t mind being ignorant and I don’t think she likes being wise. She can write racist comments and Tony will ignore them completely. Emotionally, she’s a complete mess and artistically she is very talented. She likes to fight and argue and she fears to love. She’s sweet and she’s vinegar. She thinks and talks about sex all the time but I not sure is all that active at it. She loves to display her body and receive allocades for it. She doesn’t want to fuck in conjunction with her art or in order to be sucessful. She’s deviant but she’s not a whore. She loves to entice men to write her and send her pictures so that she post them on pervert site. It is the worst blog no doubt and very, very compelling.
he’s a crabby ex army guy.
and then someone said this
I have not made up my mind about raymi yet. Is she starved for attention? Is her ego so huge that she must be famous? There is a pic of Jack Kerouac on her site now. She claims to be related to him. ok.
So, perhaps she is trying way to hard to be diffrent from Kerouac and i can understand why. People will have expectations. so she shatters your expectations completely and is nothing close to Kerouac. But, what we desperatly need in the world today is some Kerouac. So go with it. Do him proud. But dont insult or shame the name of Kerouac by being blatantly retarded……….
i have always had an inner script, before during and after reading kerouac. i read catcher in the rye 3 times before i was 12 years old.
i just want to say my words to people and i don’t want to be punched in the face. ever. i’m like a nice long, slow-mo car accident. we see the inevitible but we can’t stop it. just let it happen and stick around long enough to pick up the clutter.
if u have been sending mail to raymi@minxraymi.com please don’t do that anymore. that account is fubar – send to rawkrawk@hotmail.com – i cannot retrieve old bounced mails, by the way. sorry. my fault.
If I get up and out of the apartment before three in the afternoon then i feel really proud of myself. i have been unable to do anything before three in the afternoon for more than two weeks now. I haven’t even gone to the tanning salon! Can you believe it? I’m truly leading the junky lifestyle. we get up and we do deliveries and meet with people and then once we are finished we do our own partying. i just put together this BeyBlade toy thing and got bored with it after 2 minutes. i’m not even at my own place that’s why there aren’t any new photos up of me. i’m using a mac. i fucking hate macs. karla in Microserfs says that PC is for boys and Macs are for girls because you are able to move freely in your computer universe with ease and some other jazz. i forget the actual quote but i bring it up because i disagree with karla. Macs frustrate me and make everything all counter-productive. i had to use a mac when i worked for the women’s mag and i was assistant to the editor and i was manager of the circulations department, meaning, i had to dig and search through that fucking machine for files and tiny things and i could never ever find what i was looking for. ever. i was the only computer savvy person in my family and we only got a computer when i was in grade 6 and it was a PC. my parents thought i was doing all kinds of secret things down in the basement and stuff and i was. i was talking on yahoo chat to old men and setting up rendezvous with them, almost every nite of the week (when i was 16) and i faked accents and made up stories and all this amazingly interesting stuff. and it was mine, all mine, my life. i loved it. i loved saying that shit to my therapist and his blood pressure would skyrocket and i knew he just wanted to tell my mother everything and i said i’d do something bad.
anyway, that’s all behind me now and extremely boring. i met a few interesting characters and if only they could see me in action now, douchebags that they are.
i am angry at myself for not going to karaoke last nite. it’s been a rough week. k bye.
raymi
ps – i still think about meeting you or receiving an email from you. i tell people about your books and your words. and then i have to turn down the volume to the music. i put my hand to my breast bone and i pause and then i am ready to tell them what i need to tell them and even if they aren’t listening i keep talking and talking, until i am finished and a week or two later i get a phonecall or i bump into that person and they tell me they read that book and they loved it and it helped them.
i haven’t updated sexwithsmartpeople in eons because i got bored and angry with saying clever lines to boys from nigeria. but you can still go there. i think they even banished me from the site i used to round up these scumfucks. meh. i am SO clever. Laura has all these pictures up now of her in dumb wigs. they’re a year old but still pretty cute. she was covering up her cancer head. anti and her are having a love affair on her tagboard and i am jealous cause i don’t have one yet.
