Hi…you don’t know me….but I feel like I know you. I just want to say that I hope everything works out. I usually read your blog for sheer entertainment and think that you are this person who just experinces life and has a talent for appreciating it on a different level. I never truly think of you as “real”. But you seem to be going through a tough time and now I see how real you actually are. I think your words are lovely and I hope that you only have beautiful and happy things to write about from today on.
we were at the supermarket and this guy was near me in the frozen section and i got the HE IS IN LOVE WITH ME vibe and i thought fil was creeping around and going to jump out and tell me i am in trouble for someone being in love with me cos we just came from indigo and this other dude was standing near me and i apparently shared a moment with him despite being one-thousand per cent engrossed in cheap book browsing, anyway, i go get some milk and go back to the frozen shit and fil is there fondling pizzas and i said we are NOT having pizzas i do NOT care if they are on SALE no pizza and this guy who was in love with me sniggered, and then as fil walked away he tripped me and i almost hit my face on this skid of frozenables and the dude who was in love with me sniggered some more at/with us, as i called fil a total fucking asshole which received another laugh.
anyway fil’s perception of this was that the dude was laughing AT me because he was not privy to the 5 seconds of this dude actually peeping me on the sly, i think the second laugh he did was cos he was single and lonely as hell and seeing a couple nag, kick and swear at each other is like i am going to go home and murder myself after i eat two boxes of kraft dinner.
here is some around town gossip remember this thing? and then no update? well i saw her on the street yesterday and all her hair is cut off (assuming for brain/head surgery) and she looked a little cuckoo like britney kooks and was kinda dancing, internal rhythym type shit w/no music, she was with two chicks, and they were crossing the street but like doing it in this fucked up way dodging cars psyching out anyway took forever, i guess after a head injury you have to be on anti-psychotic meds for at least a year, it showed is all. ew i feel like a slimy dick now for sharing this on my blog.
ok i don’t want to jump off a bridge anymore (pfft as if i would do that anyway, that bridge is faaaaaar and i would have to take a bus to it, ew buses) i went for two lie down tans one yesterday and one tuesday and now i have some colour, thank fuck. i’m going to be super moody insane for other new reasons though, something i can’t blog about, so yeah, lay off on the nasty zingers for the time being, thanks.
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happily, poetry slam war continues:
too big to get all in one picture, they said we are all boring and unoriginal and that maybe poetry is for people who can’t say what they want w/o the flowery filler (contradictionary) then someone wrote suck my dick beneath that.
maybe they should turn to poetry perhaps then i would understand what they are trying to get the fuck across. if you cannot speak or write, poetry is the answer? yeah can you poetry your way through a fucking boardroom meeting and poetry me some fries supreme at taco bell? yeah, that how it works, chum?
i wrote that, i was pretty excited for a flame war i didn’t know what to say. i added that poetry was not original on another part of the wall.
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“Lauren White: One of the most difficult things to do as a blogger is maintain a consistent level of interesting content, one that draws readers back time and again. While blogging has become vastly popular, there have been few that have been able to sustain their blogs more than a year or two without succumbing to fatigue, and most simply lack the ability to continually produce quality content. This is where the skills of quality diarists come into play, and in my opinion there is none finer than Lauren White, known to most as Raymi The Minx.
Over the seven years that Lauren has been writing, she has been able to maintain not only a consistent standard of interesting, quirky and, at times, crazed content, but has also transcended the format and turned it into an art form that, to me, parallels at times the likes of Bukowski.
Don’t get me wrong, she certainly has her detractors, most of whom are unable to grasp what she is doing and the thought processes that are attached to each offering, which to me is a sign that an artist is doing something right rather than wrong. In a word, she is original. In fact, she is so original that her style has been copied by literally thousands of others.”
me: are you going to get pretentious pickles and eggs (to eat the pickles, then boil the eggs and pickle them)
Phil: yes maybe i dunno
me: why are you perplexed
Phil: im not i want to get it all at noahs or equivalent so yes i will i have decided
me: well we dont know if they are at noahs
Phil: if not there, then the next place or i will buy some chickens and plant some cucumbers and do the whole thing myself
me: omg wow you are turning crazy why dont you just buy a shack on the island
Phil: jokes dude, jokes
me: mine too guy
Phil: i know there buddy
me: i kind of want to live on the island cos this one character in the robber bride (atwood) she lives on the island and has a chicken coop and thats how she gets her eggs and there is this part when she puts an egg in her pocket and then forgets about it and hugs her boyfriend and it gets crushed, i wish that was me, oh and wearing wellingtons and a long nightgown and have scraggily long hair
Phil: yes nice
las iguanas is a good place for spying, i saw two people of my past walk by and i got good looks at both of them. i had the chili and a margarita. fil had enchiladas. there was this chick hanging out at las iguanas who panhandles at our subway stop, she has a major limp and her hair is kinda fucked her hairline and she talks funny and she was with some older yuppie sucker dude with a cellphone on his belt and the belt was braided leather and he had a designed golf shirt some douche in arizona would wear and this girl’s street-friend came up to them asking for coin and the yuppie guy gave him some, it pissed me off, this chick getting slammed in front of me while i’m eating dinner and tries to get money off me and and fil to “get home” everytime we go to the subway like dude i see you EVERYDAY you do NOT use any of this change to take the subway, you go down the street to a bar and get smashed leave me alone with your fucking lies, maybe if you lied less you would have more money? etcetera.
watched two movies last nite, turistas and night at the museum, we only watched half of night at the museum, it was kind of garbage, as was turistas, but there was a good portion of tits and carnage and hot bodies to make up for the predictible dialogue and shoddy delivery. the last line in the movie will piss you off, if you are into being pissed off, hold out for that last line.
also, get your hands on cruddy by lynda barry. tony mailed me a copy for my birthday, he said it was totally my style, and it is, and there are tons of sketchy pictures throughout. i was reading some of it in the bath last week during my energy drink sketch attack and it freaked me out even more.
still, it is funny and sad and moving and thrilling, if you like knives and drugs and death and grubby type people and slaughterhouses, read it.
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yawn here are my tits.
fil has been on a posting pictures of my tits on his flickr vibe. it’s his new project. a few nites ago he turned to me all pervy gleam in his eye and said, “remind me to take a few new pictures of your tits.” he was wearing glasses and his hair was sticking up, it should have been a sexy moment, it was more of the scary sexy kind. anyway i am over my tits but there they are, they will not increase my hits despite many a blog flamer’s argument, once a picture is up there it is and you are already at my blog how did you know tits would be there that day?
sigh i have the blues fucking darn wave of depression hits me out of nowhere every so often, i looked at this picture and it helped a little bit:
warm weather always makes me sad i don’t know why, since i was a kid it has plagued me, it instills this sense of disappointment like i should be riding on a surfboard or at a luau, but i am not at a luau and will probably never be at a luau and in rolls the wave of depression and there it settles just below the surface until fall.
being disgustingly pasty isn’t helping matters either everytime i look in the mirror i am like “oh bother” and then picture my wallet emptying from all the tanning visits i will make this summer and how there will be no difference to my skin tone you should avoid all posts on this blog that have words in the first paragraph like BLUES DEPRESSION and have a picture of a kitten in a sweater.
also i have eczema on my arms so when i tan/burn they get all red and irritated and it draws more attention to the fact that i have not picked up a dumbbell since i watched hulk hogan on wwf saturday mornings.
ew i just read the definition of eczema, my arms do NOT ooze, crust or scale, i just have red dots all over my bicep area, since i was a kid, and i have had prescribed cream for it and it did nothing so yeah, i am going to jump off the dvp bridge now.
