you’re going to have to bear with this dress for a couple posts. part of why i’m such a change spazz is well, photos. whatever. you can’t show a whole city your dress in one night. it takes two.
woah flickr just did a changeroo i am too baked and hung for this right now. it’s all slide showy whaaaa?
new headband braid from sephora. they didn’t have that platinum hair product claudia told me about or didn’t even know what the hell i was talking about. seriously? i never shop here i can get all my products from shoppers no problem why do i need this little makeup club store for exactly? but anyway here i am so you are supposed to be the experts here. retail fail. i texted claudia and she said it’s by a brand called cake not sure what actual product is called but its a powder for hair. i’m ripped$ bye
AWESOME.
do you know this shit we are talking about? it’s essentially the concept of baby powder for hair but this also does roots. like platinum cover up powder? HELP ME.
bought this too. h&m ten bucks. let melodie wear it last nite (she is killer in it). need to buy new white shoes again already they’re so dirty but the payless by the central vanished overnight. odd.
and that would be me locking my lock to my bike and resting it against this construction fence. here take it i don’t want it! left it there for an hour on our cyndi lauper queen’s park quest came back and it was still there. reeeeetard.
i heard this story from a bar fly him doing the same thing but left his bike for three days and it was still there. clem was like oh my god you ARE fucking drunk. i was a total shit show last nite it was the best. sorry you missed it. french music fashion something or other television filmed melodie and i biking for a while then i noticed looked over and asked who they were shooting for and gave them my card. def on my game. clem got a good video of me biking too (EMAIL IT!) and turns out everyone got to see my red underwear all over town. that dress is the best thing to dance in. i danced on church in front of a massive fan and i looked like a marilyn monroe angel. last nite was out of control fun. we did so much.
my old karaoke stomping grounds was a bit of a sad scene and melodie fucking loved it. they axed the old host and now have some lame wedding-dj type guy and all these rummies singing brutally. pierre was there though kickin’ it nice to see him.
so i have dysthymia. always have. it’s basically like this chronic fatigue depression, background sadness noise. normally i am very good at fighting and coming out of it and i think i’m pulling out now. i know i know oh my god shut the fuck up. i cannot believe the reactions i’ve been getting out of some assholes. suck it up and shut up is the general consensus. do you think i am fucking enjoying this? having a ball? the normal things i fill up my life with to distract myself from this just stopped working and i was forced to confront how miserable i am like everyday people. the rose coloured glasses permanently came off. my mid-twenties breakdown came a little late is all. i’ve been operating as a 21 year old for a long time now.
even though everyone thinks she’s a dink for that thing she wrote when that other author died, read elizabeth wurtzel’s depression-account of prozac nation. the entire book essentially is what lying under a very thick elizabethan dark dining hall rug feels like. you just lie down forever in your misery. it’s fucking brutal. a drunk is much like a depressed person. stubborn and stuck and there’s nothing you can do about it you just have to let it wear itself out. not even an intervention can shake it out of them. i have a few people in my life i cannot even tolerate they irritate me so much with their glum but their glum is the stupid and useless kind whereas me, at least i blog and share it with the world. i force myself out of it and produce piles of literary garbage everyday. whereas they just produce garbage. there was a point though where i couldn’t write at all, which is when i was on lithium. if you check my archives it’s all in there. nothing for days then one line about going to a movie and what i thought about one insignificant part of the film and that would be it and i’d stare at the computer for a solid hour and just sigh. mind completely blank and desperate. i lost myself to that medication. lately i felt like i was coming to that being again and that’s why i’ve been wigging out about it. that was the worst time of my fucking life.
this cowl scarf thing what amanda (mailing your tshirt when i get home) made and sent me helped. we had cottage weather in the city two nites ago. last nite too a little bit but not as bad as wednesday nite.
i drank a ton of tequila at reposado and then ron sexsmith showed up and kept me company. i heard that he is a very sad man. i didn’t tell him how sad i was we just sat. before he arrived a crew of suburban ossington freaks in denim arrived. all these lame people discovered ossington not too long ago and it’s turning into their little outsider night’s on the town disneyland i fucking hate it go away!!!! i feel partially responsible for helping that one suburban guy i was banging in on the secret. balls.
ron doesn’t even have a phone. well, he has a landline but no cellphone. i appreciated that as i punched his email into my blackberry. i had his email already in my gmail account but it’s one of those addresses that aren’t the person’s name so there is no way possible to dredge it out of the blackhole what is my contacts in that thing. i felt like the world was a very nice and small place having ron wedged in like a prisoner in the corner pocket of the reposado bar against the wall. a small place where there are no cellphones or contact to any other people and here is this talented famous sad musician being nice to me and no one even knows.
i was sitting with this bloke and i spied ron and i said to the guy do you like ron sexsmith? and he chortles out I LOVE RON SEXSMITH and i say oh hi ron and hug him at that exact moment the guy almost died right there it really was perfect. i told ron i think this guy has fallen in love with me. how terrible for him. you know when someone is falling in love with you and you are telling them how bleak everything is and they are just liking it more and more and you’re like fine if you’re in love with this person then here it is. i can’t control the effect i have on people. sometimes i am electric and lovely and my dark perspective on things, appealing. muse-like. i noticed that some people’s lives take interesting turns upon having ever met me.
i realised that i liked hanging out more with my dad than my own friends sometimes. i was worried we were going to have to discuss how miserable i am. he was good about it. classy and subtle.
i look like hell after work. speaking of, i had to deal with a real crazy straight off the bat first thing yesterday. he made me feel mentally ill. he was a drunk and i made a judgment call (oh yes smartserve passed with flying colours) and cut him off. then another girl had shots of tequila two at a time and forced me to kinda humiliate her on the patio in front of everyone that she had had enough. she was chatting up chris gostling and i was trying to make a face at him like dude watch out crazytown but then i figured he’d make that conclusion on his own so i went back to being slammed and serving people. oh right back to the suburban people at reposado wasting great tequila pounding shots like that. soo dumb! you sip and chase with that spicy tomato juice. better yet are the vodka soda orderers. you DO realise you’re in a tequila bar, yes?
so the crazy guy i had to cut off booze-wise was mostly his conversation i needed to cut off. i said i had to go into work-mode and we had to stop the topic of our conversation because it was exhausting me and i was relating too much. he wa a little manic. i’m pretty vulnerable right now also i enjoy doing roll-ups (cutlery) by myself so i can think about shit which is hard to do when a guy is laying his life history of mental illness out on the line for you. i wondered if it was of my job requirement to listen to this crap. no not really if it’s interfering with my work. then of course he gets all defensive and hurt and wounded and i’m like look buddy i just can’t talk right now. he asks for my blog and i say no and he goes well i thought it was out there in the public and free for all. yeah it is but i’d just like to exercise some boundaries and space between myself and customers. jesus give it a fucking rest. i’m getting angry now about it.
creme brulee sliders. vanilla dark choc and mango. dad barely helped me what a liar when i was ordering. they were delicious. de-fucking-licious. they’re not called sliders on the menu, that’s just my drive-by white-trashing. paradiso is supposed to have this chintzy high-end sheen to it, it always seemed so elusive to me as a kid. now i don’t give a fuck. don’t let snooty intimidate you. just stroll on in and start making demands. that’s how i do.
caught all the fireworks and beat it out of there before everyone else could get to their cars. ruled. then we came back here for pimm’s and backyard. i think it’s a little warmer out here though can’t know for sure. time to hit the backyard. xoxxo.
oh one more thing, zero tequila hangover. also, zero chambord hangover and i combined the two. tequila is a skinny booze i think too. bonus.
on the way home last nite i asked my dad if he at least had ice made (he does, thanks to me from last week) and i said oh yeah you have that bag of stoner ice. party ice. total stoner ice. i’m hoping to make that term catch on.
Nicky says, “Hi raymi, you probably don’t remember but i used to
email you every so often about 7 years ago, when
i was bored at my terrible call centre job. you even got
back to me a few times..
i just read your article in the NP and thought, gee i
wonder if she is on FB, and here we are ten
seconds later.
it must be nice to have the NP call you a notable
torontonian! kudos!
a friend of mine said they saw you at some awards show
at a table with BTO or something like that, they were
more excited to see you than everybody else at the table!
ha..
anyways, hope you are doing well for yourself and
now we can be FB friends if your up to it..
bye for now!
nicholas
ps – i just got out of jail <--kidding..........".
oh yes, the shirt. some things get rotated more frequently than others and then you are feeling picture-takey-posey then it’s like the only shirt you seem to wear.
my waiter was really hot and i felt like we had a “thing” going on between us but i couldn’t very well go over and be like um i am going to circle around again once we leave and pretend i left something here and slip you my number. should have though. now i’ll have to wait it out for some other time that will not happen and the guy probably won’t work there anymore. we were both wearing the same shade of blue shirt. we were both frauds.
virgin suicides vision. then i went on a crappy date with a guy and his weird shaped face. it was down to two guys, knew i wouldn’t like either of them. one wanted to go to reposado. i couldn’t be bothered to humour that guy anymore cos his hair was thinning too much so i last minute-cancel-swapped. the one i met up with was way too short. i am never meeting anyone else off that stupid fucking website. the free drinks and food isn’t worth it anymore. my time is too valuable, these dinks are just so exhausting. i can’t even muster up enough energy to exploit them here which is half the point of the “meeting”. i just look at them and think, he’s not him, why am i here. i also do not appreciate another round when i go to the bathroom and have already stated i was finished.
as much as i love eating i am sick of eating. and drinking. something that was at first such a joy and still is, is now seen as an, i dunno. there is something more right? it’s travel. all i see before me is night after night after night of dinner and wine and then bed and then rise. i am the worst company ever right now basically.
as if i’ll be able to resist doing this at work. drowning gelato in espresso. except we have just ice cream. so good.
this post was incredibly difficult to get up and i can’t even express why. i just feel weighted down. i regret yesterday’s post because i realize i won’t be able to shake these blues right away and it irritates me quite a bit. i also received a lot of nasty comments yesterday which appalled me. apparently i shine some joy on people (who sometimes need it) via this blog, you’d think the favour would be returned at some point or other and not shitty abuse. OMG YOU WANT ATTENTION YOU LIAR! i was accused of SO TOTALLY ASKING FOR ATTENTION when i said i didn’t want it because i left my comments on. please, if i knew my website nerd’s email off by heart i woulda written in a heartbeat to turn this shit off. i barely had time to even write that post, i just felt like i needed to get it out cos it’s my goddamn given right to express myself freely and this is my outlet. whatever it takes right?
If you knew how much I was actually hanging on by a fucking thread here I don’t think you’d say such (terrible) things.
I cannot even be completely miserable without getting shit on. Ever. Fuck you.
a comment i posted yesterday not sure if it went through.
i’m going to visit the skids in thunder bay next week once and for all.
yesterday was outright awful. i have not been that depressed in a super long time. i couldn’t even write about it, what do you say? i was actually a little scared by how sad i was. i thought this had better go away, will it? i felt adult and scared like no one can hold your hand out of it this time you have to just button down and pull through. sometimes i semi-enjoy being sad, sad and smug. smug because there’s only just a pinch of sad and i can see it lifting before it settles too long. but not this time. there was no enjoyment. i have never whined so much. or felt so embarrassed about it. just explaining my over-all lack of punch here. when i get to feeling this way i try to retreat and remove myself from everyone so they don’t have to witness it. i felt so desperate to get away from this funk though so i forced myself on my friends and dragged them down a little. al said to know that i, someone like me, gets depressed, well, it’s, depressing. exactly like that he said it. i just nodded a ton. i also hate that i am re-reading the bell jar right now cos i already felt sylvia plath sad so i’m thinking hopefully i’m not letting that seep into my psyche and imagining this grief.
summer really depresses me. at first it overjoys me then it kills me because i look around and go oh, i’m still stuck here. fantastic.
when i get this way a quick trip out of town does me wonders but i can’t even escape that way cos i have obligations every day this week so i am forced to confront how shitty i feel. i can’t run from it and i can’t run from me. when i ride my bike it cheers me up a bit. doesn’t last though. today work should be fine, good for me actually. too bad i am consumed by so much fucking stress though and a few loose ends to get to though i can’t because my day is filled and i went retard yesterday. was there something i could have done about that? i wonder if a normal person got sad like that once every ten years could they finish their work? lately i’ve been wondering a lot about sad and not sad people. it’s sad.
sucking it up now. BYE!
ps. i am NOT writing this for any attention whatsoever. just pretend i didn’t write it. it’s a means to get it out of my system so i can move on to being indifferent again. if i’d wanted emo attention i would have written this yesterday and titled it KILL MEEEEEEEEE I WANT TO DIIIIIIIIE and so on.
doctor seuss rainy afternoon. thing one and thing two afternoon. it just occurred to me that i associate rainy grey do nothing saturdays with children’s stories. i am a nostalgic child. terribly sentimental. it runs in the family.
it also occurred to me that i am lucky and borderline hedonistic. selfish and whiney. i have practically zero responsibilities aside from requiring money for rent and therefore working a few days a week, but really i have demanded of myself a life where there is ample room to do pretty much anything i want at the drop of a hat. someone else in my position might just fuck the dog a little harder (um sorry that figure of speech got a little out of hand)(rhonda my garbage truck mouth kills yours) and be a little more, lazy? self-indulgent?
the point is i just had one of those a-ha! moments i’m somewhat forcing upon myself to snap out of this bullshit funk that i am in. oh my god it is so tough sometimes, being resigned. it’s an awful way to be but it’s ok (SEE, being resigned again) bad shit just speed bumps off my head and i get over it quicker, that’s one bonus of being a depressed sort. when shit goes bad you do not wig out cos you’re always expecting it to be bad anyway and it kind of always is. when those lucky sod idiot types who are blessed to not know what depression waves are get dealt some bad luck they just crumple to fucking pieces. i almost love it in a way. well, i feel smug is all. like i could deal with that misery in a heartbeat many times better than you’re handling it you pussy.
and so, i think it’s humourous this life i have. my dad always says i WISH i had your problems kid. maybe i’m just not driven enough. or i am but too lazy to push it a little bit further. i feel like time is endless sometimes. or i’m filling it up with the wrong things. oh man is that ever the truth.
i think i am going to piss away the afternoon. i hear and see helicopters going overhead. it’s kind of interesting in a boring clipped should i be on edge about this manner. also, a little similar to 9/11 for me. yeah yeah we all know i was living in brooklyn at the time and i’m slightly demented now because of it. sorry maybe experiencing fighter jets in an urbane setting, kinda sorta hardcore? top gun off the top of my brownstone rooftop. you can see the wtc in the second photo of this post, i am 18 and i look like a mod dyke.
I’m sorry you’re so blue, and I’m sorry it’s raining. helicopters are an awful overlay to life, the ultimate sound of power and anxiety (the anxiety of power?). rattling disruption. things with this beast fellow sound like a heartbreak hanging fire and that makes me worry about you. that tumblog is wrenching.
