Some Of My Old Posts

Damn it!

Nothing like talking yourself out of sex eh Sean? Yeah. That kind of sting seems to last month after month. Why is woman such a fickle creature. I need to stop dwelling on the past and look forward to a brighter future.

so what is new? Oh i know! I'm going to post what i wrote on the lap top, so with out further ado, i give you what i wrote yesterday...

***

One is the loneliest number that you will ever know. Two is the loneliest number since one.

I do not have long. I should write quickly then spell check when I get back later tonight. It is judgement day. The day I can learn all the answers. This is no time to pussy out on me all right? They do not know shit, because you are super cool. You’re the fucking barretta. This is the day.

There is one small problem however. The problem with drugs is you never know if it is cut with something that is going to kill you or give you a bad trip. When dealers run out of bags, they start reusing them. Nathen had gone upstairs while Brady finished rolling a joint with some of my papers. We waited a little while for him to come back down, and then we started to smoke it. Half way threw we were starting to wonder if he was going to come back. Brady calls him and informs him that half his J is now gone. Brady hangs up on Nathen as he starts screaming at him. When the phone clicks off you can still hear his yelling resonating through the house from upstairs. This was an odd reaction I thought. It was only one joint, why did Nathen care that half of it was gone? He had more pot that I could ever smoke in my life. It turns out, that when drugs dealers run out of bags they start to reuse them. The bag this pot came from happened to be just a little special.

Extasy can be smoked. It is not a popular way of using the drug as it is somewhat awkward and you do not get the full effects. How ever, when crushed extasy that sits at the bottom of a bag that is now filled with pot makes for potent potables.

Fucking I am dancing. Brady was dancing last time. It does not feel that off from a regular pot high, except that I am more awake and dancing. Normally I just like to lay there and fall asleep, not dance. Who knows? Not me, I never lost control. A vote for Mario is a vote for fun. I also made this sweet rhyme while I was in Derrick’s van today. I wanted to beat the crap out of me so badly, I hate rap. I cannot become black now! I have said too much against it to embrace it. Like so much Kenny Rogers Chicken.

I need to leave soon. I do not even have a page and I have been at this for a half an hour. I need to stop going back and fixing it. I just need to write and fix it later when I get back. I have too much to talk about to be wasting time and writing this! AHHWW Fuck! Why am I telling you about how I should be telling you about something else!

Get down, deeper and down.

What could it mean? She invited me. She… invited me. This is the day with all the answers but this anticipation is fucking tilling me. Fuck I am wasting time rereading this to myself repeatedly. I am starting to sketch out… it was just so beautiful. They should have sent a poet.

I had better go.

I’m afraid of Americans.

SEAN!!!

The beat laid plans.

Remind me not to do that again. Agh. It is best not to think about it. I am going to be sick. Revenge? What was I thinking? Oh well. The last nail has sealed the coffin, and I cannot decide if the screams of terror are coming from the freshly dug soil or if they are just in my head. I do not even feel like writing. Or reading. Painting takes a lot out of a guy. Friday could cure me. Gibson please let it cure me.

I want to go online and chat with the locals. That would be nice. Get my mind off me for a bit. I could fall asleep now and wake up extra early. That sounds strangely appealing. I think I will edit what I wrote before and go to bed.

The world still sleeps tonight.

SEAN!!!

***

Back to today. What would i like to tell you about today? Well i got my new issue of nintedo power, i thought that it had run out already but every month a new issue comes in the mail. This month however gave me reason to renew my subscription once again... a free Final Fantasy Crystal Cronicals t shirt with a one year subscription.

how can i say no?

I have a confession to make. I have been feeding Oliver tea behind everyones back. he really likes it too! It hasn't been that strong, about half milk half tea, so it isn't that bad. i just think it is cool that he drinks it. Mmmmm tea.

Well i best be on my way.

SEAN!!!

here are some things i forgot to upload a while ago.

Well I think that I will leave that last post just the way it is. I am sober… no no I am not haha I am baked! However, I am not feeling the speed any more. I am on the other funking bunking trucking hunked. Man I cannot keep up with Nathen to save my life. The motherfucker smokes a huge bowl and is always ready for more. I have my share of Mr. big bowl and I feel like I am going to fucking die.

On a lighter note I am now 90% sure, that what I had was indeed speed, and not the promised extasy. Now that I sit here and take stock of how I am feeling I can’t help but wonder why I am not feeling even a little sleepy after all that pot? Perhaps it could have pill all those uppers Nathen fed to me? Not what I wanted, but this is a weird all the same. Perhaps not forty dollars weird, but damn weird.

Nathen is trying to get me into a drug habit. Mother fucker. Well really I deserve it. So what is new with everyone? I’m typing on my lap top at Nathen's house and we are playing some Alien Vs. Predator Evolution for Mr.ps2. Drew's was supposed to be coming over but has yet to turn up. I hope he did not go to the wrong door and then go home thinking we played a trick him. He had better be smart enough to call.

This day has gone by so very quickly. Again, I blame Nathen. Selling me speed telling me it is extasy. What kind of crap is that? Lamer than lame really. So it seems it is time to at the very least trim my beard. It is rather ridiculous. I normally I don’t like writing when high on weed but as I have mentioned a few times before now that uppers, despite having already been in me 16 hours still seem to be clinging.

This game and the music are still distracting me. I am making Nathen listen to some Ska. So typing is going a little slowly. Distractions hide behind every nook and cranny. Cranny is a funny word if you thinking about it for too long while high. I need to start working on a style of writing. This free form thought seems too easy to just be a style.

Then again perhaps my free flow of thought is different from other peoples, and the process of my thinking will give me enough of a distention to get away with calling it a style. I have to wonder if people like JRR and CS really thought the way that they wrote. CS would have some pretty odd vocal mannerisms… if you went strictly by the Narnia books that is. I have yet to read any of his other works.

I have been making some odd choices lately. I went to High Tech the other day and did not spend a cent. I tried to do extasy… and ended up taking speed. I want to get a tattoo of a lion on my right breast. One standing in the same pose as the lions you would see on a coat of arms, but not as rigid. Have it more flowing, and not so puttsy. Well what do you know, Puttsy isn’t a word.

Always keeping my writing to equal four lines on this font on this program…would be an interesting but cramping style of writing. It wouldn’t be awkward enough to be beautiful like a hiku, but it would still be a fuck load of work. To get it to space out right I would have to do so much editing, and then I would have to stretch other parts of what I was writing with useless filler words. Get it?

My grade eight teacher had to take over as principal half way thew the year. A fat cow of a beast with extremely bad temper replaced her and she was only starting out as a teacher. The years of teaching would surely only sour her further. She was once teaching the class that if we wrote “I think” at the start of our sentences that would we get a higher mark for the writing assignment she was going to give us.

Now, I do not know about you, but this seemed like a hella stupid idea to me. I asked her why would get better marks just by writing “I think,” or something similar before our sentences. She said that it showed that you really had been thinking. I argued that I would have had to be thinking to write anything down, if I was not thinking, I could not write anything.

She insisted that despite my protest she would still make the class fill out the answers the way that she wanted them filled out. She went as far as to make sure I was doing it correctly by walking by my desk and leaning over me to see my paper. Power tripping wench. I did her assignment the way she wanted, so as to stop her constant bothering of me.

However the next day when she collected our math homework, she opened my book only to find that every single answer was filled in “I think the answer is 14.” When I got it back, I noticed that the answers had been marked all correctly. I got out of my desk bringing my math and English work from the day before with me I dropped them down on her desk and demanded to know where my bonus marks where.

Not a bad little story. Some of that had to be tampered with no make it fit the four-line rule that I do not even like to use. Why would I hold myself to rules that I made up myself? What would be the attracting in ever making things harder for yourself by setting limitations on your actions voluntarily? I just ask the same question twice did not i. Does it really make my point clearer if I ask similar questions twice.

Ask Nathen for a Topic

Round One: It is fucking taking him an hour to think of something for me to write about.

Round One Take Two: Aliens

Brav-fricken-o Nathen. He said Aliens. We’re playing Aliens Vs Predator. He sat there forever thinking of something for me to write about and the best he can come up with is aliens. It is a good think he has never been asked to go to participate in a think tank or focus group. This section was to be about Aliens, and I suppose that I have mentioned them enough for it to count so just one more thing. Aliens Rock!

Round Two: Zombies

Not an entirely an original idea but it is much better than aliens. At least there aren’t any Zombies on the TV in front of him. I will openly admit that I am not the largest zombie fan. I did enjoy Prince of Persia, but I would not attribute its success with the fact that it is indeed just another zombie game. Zombie movies have also been pretty low on my must see list. Day of the dead does look much more promising however.

Round Three: Navy Seals

I was once tempted to sign up for the navy seals training course that they offer to Civilians. To see if Joe Every Man would be able to hold up in the face of the worst training conditions imaginable. This was rather a stupid temptation I now realize, ignoring this issue of money alone, how the hell would I make it past day one. Navy Seals are some of the most hard core bastards there are out there.

Round Four: Turtles

I have been a fan of turtles for as long as I can remember. From the little turtles, Steven Belt used to have to Teen Aged, to the chocolate covered caramel. How could you go wrong with these slow and steady creatures? I have always wanted to have a very large round-shelled tortoise to slowly crawl around my back yard from pond to pond. Drinking tea I would watched it. I also wanted to meet Donitello.

Round Five: Food

He is hungry. Kraft dinner will soon be boiling in a small pot on the stove. The kitchen and its hard wood floors are home to very little food that was fit to eat. More likely beer, butter and a half-filled box of baking soda. Even Kraft dinner is a challenge when you don’t have milk. Eating it with just butter may work but not too many would opt for such an option. Putting milk and no butter is more acceptable in my minds eye.

Round Six: Trolls

Trolls have been part of common fork lore for longer than I can know. From the friendly freaky haired trolls that graced us like uninspired beanie babies, to the brutish monster that lived in caves fearing the light of the sun, trolls now can only be found in Danish gift shops and book stores. These fearsome giant humanoids serve as easy template in the face of any uninspired D&D game.

Round Seven: Beer

Not a suggestion by Nathen, but he as well as I are drinking beer. It would be more correct to say we are each having a beer, as it is the only beer we have left. Then it may be even more correct to say that we are drinking Tylers last two beer while he is on vacation with his family and we play Alien Vs Preditor at Nathens house. Sleeman honey brown lager. Costs more than you would ever want to spend on a drink.

That is all for now

SEAN!!!

***Another Post made late that day.***

I can’t believe rap has made it this far. Why can’t you people understand?! Stop it! God. I’m baked . 33 hours with no sleep, two mystry pills and around ten or so bowls of Mary J, and at least 2 or three jays. If I ever go into rehap I may be able to say this last day and a half was the low point of my drug addiction. Then all the other addicts would boo me off stange and throw their shoes for lack of any better projectile.

There is some really fucking weird politics in this apartment that Nathen lives in. The two girls always seem to be off in dark corners planning the next grocery list, or how to get into Brady’s pants. I would say the short one is the most likely canidate for alpha of this level of the house. There are other people who live down stairs from here. Drug dealers I believe. I’m not really sure how it all plays out here.

Haha for a second I was worried the ink was going to run out on the computer screen and I wouldn’t be able to finish writing.

The blond and as moody as I would expect, and the short stack likes to talk behind others backs in an almost eastern canadian accent. Perhaps it is just the pitch of her voice. I’m sure I could figure out by asking, but who wants to do that? If you say me. Then you are right, I want to ask her and find out now. Wooo…. You know I don’t think it is even the writing that is good when you are baked it is the process of writing that feels really good. You miss words and have type o and some times you leave out whole halves of sentances because your memorie is shot. Distractions are all over the place. But the way you start to think when you are putting the words down. Like a waterfall of ideas that flows out of my forhead and onto the keybored splashing over my fingers as it falls.

You must learn to control how fast you think orther wise your fingers won’t keep up and you will start to miss the point. If there was ment to be a point. If you just want to free flow write it really is best to use a pen. You miss to many keys when you just let it flow flow flow….. man this music fucking sucks. How can nathen listen to this crap all day. He used to like korn, I know he could like punk.

Yeah. I had a beer that wasn’t too tasty. Sleemans honey brown. It really helped push that bowl up into my head. Nathen is still a virgin. Just thought I would let you know. He didn’t give me a ride and he didn’t get laid. *shakes head* I think he may be gay.

Sow hat else is new with sean? Well my jaw is trying to go really tight together and I have to force myself to relax it. Ha. Force it to relax. Other wise it will tense up and I will get a head ache. I’m really fucking baked out of my mind. If I smoke to much more you will be able to use my blood for oil. This music sucks.

Man I’m done.

SEAN!!!

I will admit it, when I started to read Part Three of the life of Pi my heart began to sink. However looking back now that I am done I realize I should have had more faith. Yann, you pulled it off, remind me to buy him a drink next time he is in at McGettigans. Margaret Atwood gave him a good review, I don’t know if props from her holds any real weight as I have never read any of her books. Lisa has a few of them, and I know the names of a few of her books, so I guess she is worth mentioning.

I will say nothing of the story for fear that you have yet to read it. If it is the case that you have missed out on this book up until now that you seriously consider picking it up. You can barrow my copy if you like. It was most enjoyable.

The more I write the more I want to read. The more I read the more I want to write. Finally, this is starting to get out of hand. I am writing every where I go, at work I scribble lyrics on scraps of paper, Nathen’s I bring my laptop along, at home I go back and forth from my book to my laptop to the family computer. I hope that my writing is starting to improve. Any feed back you would like to offer would be most welcome, negative or other wise. I would hate the think that I am spending all this time reading, writing, and not improving.

There is a small sign of progression under all these diary entries; I have started to write a short story. It takes places in the third person, which is a bit rigid I find. When I write here, I can switch from third to first person on a whim. I am writing “what I know” so you can expect it to involve coffee, biking, drugs, and women. I do not think it is very good so far, but it has been almost a year since I wrote something like this. I will post it whether I like it or not when I am finished with it, or when I give up on it and decide it is hopeless.

What I am enjoying almost more than writing is editing my writing. Going back and rewording what I wrote. Taking out contractions, moving and changing words, adding new ideas and taking out old ones. I hope I do not decide to become a writer. If I do that I may as well sell all my possession right now and move out on the street. I think I will go back and edit what I just wrote. Back. I spent a good tem minutes or so messing with what I wrote, and sadly it is lost forever. Part of me hates to delete things from my writings for fear that with time these mindless rambling will develop some deeper meaning that I will only understand when I look back on them years from now. Then another part of me knows that I will not want to read four hundred pages of crap. Ah I love that I am getting into the habit of just typing cannot, but I don’t like that I spell hobbit every time I try to spell habit.

Then there is my other worry. My speed-induced rant received very high reviews from Nathen and Co. After hearing that I wrote a good seven pages, he insisted that I printed him off a copy. Then he wanted a copy of my mushroom rant and my drunken review of Mr.Larson. Every one seemed to have only good things to say about all three pieces of work, and reread me some of their favorite passages today when I got back from climbing. Also, the feed back I get from devoted fans and fellow eJunkies has primarily been in regards to such entries. While I have not writing anything substantial lately while sober, I cannot help but get the feeling that I write better when under the influence. Perhaps my spelling is worse than normal, I get off track regularly, but people seem to enjoy it more.

I am also realizing I am a total attention whore. Sure I locked my diary but I gave almost every one a password anyway… except Drew. I did not realize you did not have one until today, I will be sure to make you one so you can read this if you so desire. While I was worried that Nathen may take offense to my mockery of his lacking libido, once I realized he did not care, I love how much attention he and the others were giving my work. I tried to quell this lust for attention by steeling back the printed copies so as to make sure his girlfriend, and any one else passing threw wouldn’t read what I wrote. Now I run the risk of some one in my family finding the printed copy…

God I am itchy. These socks are driving me one step beyond madness.

If I convince myself that I write better while on drugs, I can see myself starting to do drugs just to write better. Perhaps it is just that people like to read about drugs. It is a rather dark topic to be tackling. Most of my readers are either fellow drug users and can relate to what I write, or want to be drug users and live vicariously threw my writings. Or so I assume. Why else would they read? Do you read my eJournal just because my name lit up and some text informed you that I updated 3 hours ago? Or did I print this off for you and ask you to read it. Worse still… did you blindly stumble across this some where and are just killing time reading?

Pift. I should work on my writing a little more actively. Sure what I am doing now is helping to develop the habit of writing, but is it helping me further my style? I sure complain a lot in here. I think it is a common theme among eJunkies. The under appreciated attention whores of the Internet. Can you see a bit of yourself in my writing? Or do you make me as a black sheep and use me as an example as what you do not want to become.

After doing speed and hanging around Nathen for this past week and a half I really start to realize how weak my “drug addiction” is, or was. I was what, smoking a bowl a week perhaps? Maybe two if there was a party going on. Nathen smokes more in a day than I do in a week. He also has not been asleep since we took magic pills. He just keeps taking more, so he just keeps awake. How can some one as charismatic as he be able to get almost any one to try smoking pot, yet still be a virgin? His excuse for missing out after Enver’s can be found at the end of this sentence. It is possible, and unfortunate if true… but there is something inside of me, deep down inside of me that thinks he is lying about that too.

What do I think happened? I will tell you despite it being rather personal, and embarrassing. When a person takes extasy, they typically become very horny. Mixing the drug with viagra is a popular past time at raves I am told. One of the first indicators that what I had ingested was not extasy was that two hours into my would be trip, I was feeling anything but frisky. Some hours later I found myself at home in the bathroom looking down at my penis. I was extremely shocked to see that even while flaccid it was looking to be only about half of its normal size. Feeling very concerned for my purple headed warrior I attempted to arise myself, but after much time, and agitation achieved very little success. I cursed Nathen and his miss labeled drugs, only to brake out in laughter. I took two, he had taken four. The picture of Nathen lying in bed beside his girlfriend with a mutual look of disappointment on their faces was more than I could bear.

Truthfully I do not know that the drug had the same affect on him or not, but I do know that typically I do not have a lacking libido. Until that moment my only problem in that area was that, I would pitch a tent far too often. I cannot help but laugh, and hope that it does not have any long lasting effects. As for me, I am already back to my old self and no worse for wear. That being said…

That drunken farm dog was right. They do not tell you how much fun it is. Hardcore drugs are amazing in what they do to you. Sure they are worse for you than most things you could put in your body, but it beats the hell out of being bored or depressed or even being just mildly content. All the same, I think I will abstain for a little while. I may eat some mushrooms this weekend, for experimental and literary reasons. For a good three weeks after I ate mushrooms I have been sick. It was the same sickness both times and I want to find out if mush was the true culprit, or if it was just my quarterly pains.

I have decided that I will save extasy until I have some with whom I could enjoy it. Watching Brady rub his body against the wall and dance for a good five hours with out stopping was rather entertaining. Yet I believe I would prefer another warm body to dance with when I give this party drug the old collage try. I never intended to try speed. I would have turned it down had some one offered it to me for free… or rather I may have accepted it and then sold it. I have been informed that the experience is very much like cocaine, so I have unwittingly checked two drugs off of my to do list instead of one.

After extasy, the only other drug left is mescaline, which I may never get the chance to try anyway.

So after I find some one to try extasy with, I can retire from the hard core drug life and live out the rest of my days as a run of the mill pot head.

I am going to bed.

SEAN!!!

It was the writing on the wall, it don’t bother me at all…

I didn’t write yesterday. I didn’t write all of today. It is now 12:23 according to my alarm clock, which I set to be at least fifteen minutes fast. I saw some pretty odd things on mushrooms but I couldn’t bring myself to write about any of it. I made one attempt early on in the evening then gave up,

Every time

I am too early on to be typing.

It is sad when I turn to writing as my only friend. I am at Nathen’s house. He has become more my dealer than my close friend.

Everything is so small, understandable and clear whenever I take mush. Life is banging on the walls around me trying to make grow up and move on with things.

This writing thing is not cutting it any more. Fuck. I will blame the mushrooms for my teary eyed antics. The world is small and manageable outside these walls there is no outside, no winter, no setting sun. It is just myself sitting in the corner.

The human species is capable of so much more. I complained before that English is just a filter that people use to express emotions and just a filter to help other understand one another. I’ll finish that thought later, I have to go for a minute.

Needless to say I never went back to writing. I went out looking for a job today, with out my dad yelling at me to stop being lazy and get a job. I guess that is a small sign of growing up. I don’t feel like writing any more.

SEAN!!!

The summer wind came blowing in from across the sea.

“What is missing?”

-Katie

I wrote nachos then drew a little picture of a marijuana leaf. The answer is simple when you are looking at a jig saw puzzle. The next piece, the next step, the next section and the bits to fill in the in between. What is missing? I had better think of a good answer for tomorrow. At least give thanks for giving me something to write about.

Another month of calm followed by a storm. My father has told me to move out again. He knows I will not, and if I try, he will not let me. That however has never stopped his threats. Do this by this day or get out. I do not know why people set dates for things that do not need too ever been done, or at least do not need to be done for a long time. We are very different people, him and I. He says I cannot blame people for wanting to make money and sell out. I say he cannot blame them, because he himself is driven by money. I can blame them all I want however, I am driven by something else. It is not driving me with any great passion but it is driving me none the less. I would like to say it is art that pushes me forward, but we have been over this before, and I am no artist.

Complaints that we never talk any more. That one did come as a surprise despite what I am about to say. I feel like I know what he will think about something before I ask him. I used to turn to him for advice or his opinion on things, but really, I could do with out it now. Why would I seek out his opinion when I have friends like Drew, Tyler, Kate, and yes, even you Jessica to draw wisdom from about life, love and happiness. Your verired perspectives on life help give me a clearer picture of the way of things.

I have said before I separate myself from those who bother me, it seems that my father has fallen to this category. Soccer, school, and money are his topics of choice. I do not play well with others, I do not learn well with others and I would be as happy in a hovel as I would be in a palace. Do not kid yourself, I still need money to get by. It is a fact of the world we live in. If I do not give the man money, he will not give me my Orange Pekoe and that is just not acceptable.

I do not think my alarm clock went off this morning. It may have sounded then I turned it off with out fully waking. Either way it is cause for concern, as I need to be up for work in ten hours.

Dance like no one is watching

With one fist in the air.

Climbing today was satisfactory. My arms gave out about half way up the last climb and had to cheat in order to make it the rest of the way. Feeling feeble is bad enough when you have been climbing for a few hours, I cannot imagine what it will be like when I am old. The more I say I hope I am dead by then the more I mean it. Being old looks fucking shitty. Lisa’s mom just had a stroke and consequently speaks funny, cannot go to the bathroom by herself and is depressed out of her mind. If I get to that point please shoot me. At that point, it is not even life any more it is slow painful torture, a march towards what cannot be avoided, only postponed.

Sometimes it feels like there is nothing I can do but lay in bed all day. The memory of this last workweek will soon be gone forever. If I never love, again know that there was nothing I enjoyed more than writing for you here. I know I have made an ass of myself, put my foot in my mouth time after time, made you worry, angry and laugh. Drunk, baked and hallucinating I did my best to entertain and avoid spelling mistakes. Some days it would take me ten tries before I got my password correct. I wonder if I will ever really look back.

I still think about that four year old girl found dead in the Dumpster.

This next bit is for Chad.

Does my memory keep her alive or dead?

If a picture can take your soul

Can a memory keep it alive?

Does the black only become black

Once no one remembers your name,

Who you were and what you did

While you were here?

Forgive me for this torment

I will try to let you go

Forgetting is forgiveness.

I could totally pass as a Goth if I keep writing like that. I used to question the end, now I can hardly bother. I will know one day. A rattle from deep inside me as the last bit of air slips past my lips. Is death the next adventure, or the end of the last… many of you will disagree with me when I say this is the end. What more could you ask for after this? Do no act of kindness unless it is in itself the reward. This is life, and as likely the end as not.

What is missing?

An answer.

SEAN!!!

Been far to lazy to just walk up and get the stuff i have been writting, so i will just add a little bit of info on here.

Planning on getting baked later, going to nathens, watch the exorcist and play with my ouija bored. should be a good time if we can find some candles and some women to scare.

what else to say. I think i am just going to start writting here about what ever comes to mind. so feel free to stop reading now, i doubt it will be anything intresting much less important.

work is getting ridicoulus. i went in for an hour and a half today. i need a new job. i dropped off my resume at Calories today. they had an add in the paper, but i thi9nk they may have already filled in the position. god knows i more than qulaified to wash dishes.

the waitress at McG has become more and more friendly towards me lately. I keep telling myself not to get hopeful as she is no where near being in my league. She isn't the smartest cookie, but she isn't dumb and she is hella fricken hot. She is also rude to the costomers and constantly hung over.

So i must not let myself get carried away with idle fancys and deluisons of grandure. Still, an invitation to go get baked would most likely be warmly recived...

There is nothing worse than getting used to casual sex then having to stop of an extended period of time. Worse still is when you get the occasional bit of nookie to remind you what you are missing out on.

I understand why people used to use mushrooms as a way to explore their spirituallity. Everything is so understandable. I normaly loss this feeling of understanding shortly after i wake up the next morning but that last bout with the monster in the closet has stuck with me since friday. I am filled with a feeling of inner peace and the knolege that it will be okay someday.

ahh.

Never has the sun set on such a smile as yours.

Slept over at nathens last night and then just walked to work. I got a pretty good rest considering i slept on the floor. We almost beat pikmin as well. It was a good time.

It is really funny how Nathens roomates steel all his lighters and cigaretts. I mean, that is what you get when you have two women as room mates but it still makes me laugh. I want to move out sooo baddly. I could afford it with out much adu, so long as i had some one to split the rent with... i just don't know if i could afford school as well as food and rent and bla bla bla bla.

Life is so hard.

I do indeed, jenuinely wish that i had not been born. Sure that seems like a cop out or what ever but i really don't care. My life hasn't been easy, but it deffinately hasn't been hard. I know millions of people would kill to be in my situation, but frankly i couldn't care less.

I just need something to live for i think. All i have is tea, books and video games. I am not passionate about anything. Maybe i should go by some silk screening equipment. it is the only creative thing other than writting that i can do. Hmm... then i could start making posters for upcoming shows.

I lost my debit card and i need to go out and get tickets for pixies. I should call Drew.

I think i will as soon as i get off here.

I feel like playing some mario kart. would you like to come over and play some mario kart with me? I will take it easy on you and pretend that i am having a bad racing day.

Ahhh how i love Stiff Little Fingers. If you get the chance to listen to " Suspect Device " i high recomend that you give a good listen. It can be heard in the movie High Fidelity, but didn't make the sound track.

Inflammable material is planted in my head

It's a suspect device that's left 2000 dead

Their solutions are our problems

They put up the wall

On each side time and prime us

And make sure we get fuck all

They play their games of power

They mark and cut the pack

They deal us to the bottom

But what do they put back?

They also did a funny cover of Beasty Boys "No sleep till Broklin" called "No Sleep Till Belfast". People with accents sound funny when they rap.

Sheep go to heaven, Goats go to Hell.

This monkeys gone to heaven.

Like a bat out of hell

But if I die I hope I burn well

I'll spend my days with J.F.K., Marvin Gaye, Martha Raye, Lawrence Welk, Kurt Cobain, Kojak, Mark Twainm, Jimi Hendrix's poltergeist, And Webster yeah Emmanuel Lewis cause he's the anti-christ.

Did you know that midgets make up a small percentage of the population?

Whoo.

I have started to read CBC's "Canada Reads" book. I don't even remember what it is called. Lisa just gave it to me the other day. I guess it would be nice to read something everyone else is reading that isn't Harry Potter or the Life of Pi. It is pretty damn long so it looks like the Art of War is going to have to wait another few weeks or so.

I need some blank CDs.

Maybe i should order a stack off of ebay.

you can get them cheaply.

did you know that in canada you pay about 50-60cents tax on each blank cd you buy to help supilment the music industry? That is why you can't get 50 cds for less then about $40. In the US you can get 50 cds for about $5 if you get no name ones.

well it is time for sean to run run like the little white rabit.

SEAN!!!

Seeing red, I never thought I would have to see your face again, I don't have time for your sympathies, because it never happened to me…

I will not say much about the drugs, if you want to know you may ask me in person, or I may talk about it when I come down form this Wuthering height. I will say this however, I do not think it was extasy. I now believe it was over priced speed. I am capable of typing extremely fast but I am making too many mistakes, so now ladies and gentlemen, I am going to try to slow it down for you.

But have I said too much already? Indeed, I have more to say to you. I will not lie to you tonight, yet telling you here, like this, seems wrong. Dirty. How can one such as I with such a lose grasp on the English language even begin to explain the feelings that flow over my body. My head is light, my mind awake. Overly alert I ramble on and on much to either the amusement or annoyance of my former classmates. Getting sidetracked in my conversation constantly was a very entertaining for those who would listen, especially when I would track backward quickly, titling each subject with a few words, "Chad's hair, The set up, Nathen, taken dips, right that's what I was talking about, so what are dips?" Pointing at a relevant object as I read the list aloud to help the memories come running back.

I do not feel that this is very entertaining. Perhaps it will pick up in the next few sections. Even typing this now, my arms feel weak. For the battles, I lost beside Enver against his friends and my colleges. Distinction is important to me. Even Enver and I have fallen to the waist sides, something that fills me with as much grief as I can know. My fingers fly, still miss key strokes, I force myself to type slower but the words do not wait in my mind and more spelling mistakes run across the page.

The feeling in my chest that of new love, dread, and sweat. I do not sweat as a rule, unless involved intimately clasped between another's arms… or legs. I am now sweating quiet badly. It also smells. No one else said they could smell me at the time, but I find it to be most discussing at this moment. I thank god every time I see a stinking, fat, sweaty man that in another 20 years, I should not be much worse than my father, whom lesbians have told me is a very hansom man. Time to re read and edit.

I want to be a better person. I have dug myself too far down now for me to pull off the nice guy thing with anyone. So again, I will ask that you would take my word on what I am saying, but pay careful attention. I lie to myself sometimes. I used to be a nice guy. Helpful and caring I would listen to Cheryl Evenoff rant on and on about her knees, her softball, her shoes, her boyfriends who I stupidly envied. Was a relationship too much to ask for? We were closer than I had been with anyone. Cheryl was much different then, or I was. I really do not know if she is still a succubus.

Long ago I still remember I looked in the mirror and said, "Sean, no one likes a nice guy." It was true. No one did like the nice guy; bitter towards the world of women I stepped with a heavy heart into highschool and a new strategy growing in my head. I became an asshole. The old friends went their way. I started to meet new friends, and more importantly, women.

Success was my poison. I would like to think that if it had not been for Caress, I would not have gone on being the ass hole. I would have tried something else... perhaps it would have turned worse? A Goth which despite being a little tempting would have been a laugh. Perhaps joined the football team, start to play soccer or maybe even back to the nice guy. Nevertheless, I had success.

Once I had found something that worked to win over a girl, my strategy and the better part of my personality locked in place. I became Sean the ass hole who scores with chick on a semi regular basis. I was no Casanovak, but little success seems big when you have tasted only rejection. So I played the role, and why wouldn't I? It made sense, and I do not regret making those choices. Yet now the times they are a changing. I miss caring about things.

Some where deep deep in me the nice little boy inside me saves a sentimental twenty dollar bill, he has been hard working at making his voice heard lately, and is inching slowly out of the deepest recesses of my mind. While I am forsaken to the better half of my friends now I realize that any change would require an amazing feat, and most likely the social structure of high school. It may have been mercilessly cruel, but if you knew the rules, you could brake them. People think they knew me then, still know me now. I have given them little reason to doubt what they think of me lately. Creating doubt in the minds of people, I see once a year is hard. Taking on a new role with no cast of characters to support your new identity is near impossible. I just said the same thing twice. God I am dumb.

I would hope that most of you know by now that I have not been angry in the last 4 years or so. I have not hit my fist into the wall, cursed my father's name, or felt disappointment towards people. I have always been good at rationalizing things to myself, about others and myself. That is not to say that you do not annoy me from time to time.

Part of what keeps me calm is I do not hang out with people I do not like, people who annoy and bother. I gave up seeing Dave for months, and would have gone on not seeing him had it not been for two parties recently. I gave up on Adrianna for a month, and you are taking offence to that is the only annoying thing you do. Do not let my words sting, in the end there was not anything you could do. You are only annoyed by the things you let bug you. I now tell my dad, "Remember when you said…" and he would be like, "it is impossible for me not to be annoyed by you looking at porn on the family computer." So I guess it also depends on your limits.

Side note: (Optional read)

Personally I would not consider the porn I look at to even be "porn". I do not like looking at women who seem to be doing it because they need crack, or the ones with fake boobs splattered with cum. There is other erotica, paintings, and pictures where the female body is displayed as a piece of art that no man would be allowed to touch lest he disparage it with his lust. It is hard to find, and I rarely bother looking, but you have to enjoy it when you see a work of art. I am not all boobs butts n' stuff.

Side note ends.

(Resume reading here)

The mixed feelings of new love and dread is a painful one but one that I have missed for a long time. It is possible to like feeling bad, let me saying it stand as proof itself. After what has been years with out feeling truly alone, truly in love, truly going out of my mind with anticipation. Crippling despair is an enjoyable change. I also think it makes me write better.

Lately I found myself with my eyes to the heavens, praying to a god I do not even believe in. I think it is a good sigh, but not in that I still, have a fear of god. In that I am looking for help, wanting to move forward, to change myself to the next successful type of alpha males, or at least some one to share my mind with.

Did putting optional reading make you want to read that section more, or less?

I am feeling alone. I am feeling left behind, failings to chose a proper path and fallow it with any sense of determination. I love how writing makes it all feel better. Perhaps I was not in truly in love with Nicole, but I did feel stronger for her than I did for any one else, before or since. So perhaps I do not feel truly alone, but if I have felt no lower, so I hope it does not drop even further.

Icky. I just went and put on a new shirt and some more pit stick. I hate the smell of lingering BO. Sure I am a slob in that I have paper and clothing on my floor, but you will not ever see old food in my room. Moreover, smelling bad is all the reason I need to go home early from a party.

Speaking of which, have you ever noticed how the choice you make, bring forth-other choices and those choices more choices still? Drew was kindly enough to drive me to Enver's, even if it was under the shadow of picking up booze for Adrianna… but I have theories for later on that on. Do try to remind me about that.

Nathen said he would pick me up, but knowing better than to trust who should be my most trusted friend (going back 8 years now) I accepted Drew's offer for a ride. The party progress, Nathen arrives shortly after 12. Then when Drew is leaving, I asked Nathen if he would give me a ride home, and for some reason, I will never understand I failed to remember the wisdom of earlier that night. He left me behind at Enver's. Next thing I knew there is only those six individuals who are going skiing tomorrow left behind. They say they will give me a ride, but that they need some sleep before they hit the rode. After laying down for thirty minutes all the while cracking jokes they decide it is time to go at 5am… give or take a few minutes. Enver wakes from his sleep, to find that the job we did cleaning while he slept would not live up to his mother's standards. Half the guys go hide in the van or fill it full of gas while Enver, Ben, Kyle, Chad Adam and I help to clean up. Soon they each run to hide in the hopes of leaving. It is just myself left to help Enver in his war against hidden bottle caps, which I refuse to stop fighting until Enver says so. I don't need to spend the next 6 hours with these hung over and agitated thrill seekers in a cramped van, what do I care if they hate me?

Egged on by cries of, "Oh c'mon it is clean," and "hurry the fuck up we want to leave!" We finished our self-appointed tasks in no hurry and made our way outside. I think I really was the only one there who knew what Enver's mom is like. People will attest that she as a bag, with themselves as a witness to her fits of rage. Yet, I know as Enver does that she is far worse with no one else around. That one of the greatest people I have ever known should come from such a woman as this, I will never understand. I will avoid the obvious Simpson's quotes here, and I won't say he was a trooper surviving despite the odds being so stacked against him, if only because of his drug usage. Enver you can say you do not use it as an escape from your worries, but I know you do, because I do to.

Going back to edit. Finished edit at 9:41am.

There is also a side story to go along with this last little blarg. I am typing this as one of my edits at 10:45. The story goes, as fallows…

For the last week, I have been spending much time with my oldest friend Nathen. I believe the only person I have known for longer is his younger brother who I meet in the principals office the day before I meet the man himself. I would not count Nathen as my most trusted friend, as he has let slip some bits of information that are irrelevant now, but where important then. Enver would also miss this title as he has caused damage that will never repair itself, even if I tried to fix it. Not to say that I do not still like them, I just do not tell them anything important any more. So when I call Nathen for a little green bag I decide just to pop over and see how things are going at the new place. There is a right little party going on with some of my old chums taking extasy for the first time. I spoke to Dave about his experiences as they went on and he assured me it was a hella trip. It was not until the next day that I have to sit down with the man himself and talk about how life had been in the months since we last hung out. He informs me that he is now seeing a new lady but to my dismay has yet to sleep with her.

Now, I find Jodie (SP?) to be quiet intelligent, well spoken as well as pretty damn hawt. I say none of this with any defamation of her character in mind. I also know that she is twenty-two years old and I do not know about you, but something makes me doubt that she herself has not done the deed. So what is the hold up then? Nathen has a list of excuses that remind me of the Americans at Vic's who couldn't climb the walls. "Well I need to warm up first, haven't worked out in a while." "I can't make that move, my fingers kind of hurt from this cut I got." "I dislocated my thumb last week and now I can't get a grip on that slopper." "I would have made it to the top but I had beans for lunch." It seems taking failure like a man also involves listing as many excuses as you can think of until every one moves on to the next climb.

So instead of just making fun of him and his lacking libido, I made fun of him and try to give him some useful advice. Something I don't like to do, because frankly I don't know what I'm talking about. So after a brief overview of possible tactics he tells me Saturday that he will seal the deal after Enver's. So once I realized he left Enver's with out me (Which I feel, ended up for the best for everyone involved), I give his house a quick call. "Hi is Nathen there?"

Yeah just a second.

Hello

"Nathen! How are you?"

Ahh good?

"You forgot me at Enver's."

Shit… ahh… well I could come pick you up?

"You know what I have been bugging you about lately?"

Yeah…

"If you pick me up will it affect your mission?"

Yeah.

"Okay, well don't worry about it then, I'll talk to you tomorrow and figure another way home."

Haha, okay.

"Good Luck"

*click*

Now, I do truthfully want the story to end here. I would let you all assume that Nathens testicles finally dropped and he completed his mission objective. In a variety of ways, I could now find out if he did, or did not do everything he set out to do this night. It would be annoying to have me call him this early, but I highly doubt he is asleep yet. All I know is I will be truly disappointed if he forgot me at Enver's and does not seal the deal.

I am back down at the end 11:12 edit spot.

I think I have edited this more than anything else I have ever written. I keep changing sections to sound better, but I have a feeling it is not working too well. My mind is peacefully protesting against my body.

I find it is hard to feel down with the lively two-toned beat creeping out of the speakers beside me. I do not wish to wake the others so I must keep it down. I still manage not to feel great however, ska is not a miracle cure for depression, it is slow acting medication for the soul. Radiohead would just kill me right about now… so tempting.

I do not think I want to date some one who is smarter than me any more. That is far to vulgar I need to be more specific, I need to date some one who has more common sense than me, who is wiser than I am. I can almost hear you laughing from here. I just want some one who can point out the subtle hypocrisy that lay just below the surface of my writings and myself. I hate hypocrites who do not know they are hypocrites, or worse still insist that they are not. I know I do and say things all the time that go against what I just finished saying a second before hand. I do not catch them all, so I think it would be nice to have some one else catch me when I fall.

Admitting you have a problem is the first step towards being cured of conflicting thought. Yet the conflicting thoughts made to be an asset at times making me a quality debater. No matter what angle, no matter my personal belief's I would argue the point ignoring all other data, sure that I was right in what I said. Then I would go into the next room and argue the other side of the issue with the same temperance. My partner however would always wobble. Let personal belief slip in and give ground away to the opposition.

How hard is it to have a goal and fight for it with out slowing or stopping for anything? It is almost impossible in the long term. For myself anyway. My thoughts are with a smiling Brady rubbing against the wall, and wondering where the hell is my trip? And who he could be rubbing against even now as I type this. Who said I wasn't melodramatic? Was it you? It was you wasn't it. Ofcourse I am melodramatic, I like to think I keep it DL, but more likely is that I just have a different way of being dramatic that what I see in others.

I hate to think that even my most drug-induced thoughts are not original thoughts. That I think in English is bad enough, it limits the true feelings and ideas inside me. How can a word describe this feeling with any degree of accuracy? Warm, muddled hallow, feeling in my chest, but even you hearing, you still cannot know what it is. English is a filter I run ideas and feelings through and they are thusly dulled by my own ineptitude. How many times have you not been able to find the right words?

Editing time 10:02am McGettigans just opened.

I took this day off work last Friday. Making sure Cormac would be able to deal with the lack of any Sean on this cold Monday morning. It is very well, otherwise I would have to be at work in an hour and twenty minutes. I am too awake to go to sleep still, making me only believe more firmly that this is, infact, some sort of speed I am on. My head feels dizzy, but in a good way. I can see how this drug would be used for people who wish to get large amounts of schoolwork done late at night. I am sure ready for another day.

I have nothing to do until 9am Tuesday morning, other than shower. The deodorant worked for the smell of this drug-induced sweat, but I can still feel it on me. My dad is gone to work, Lisa is up with the baby, and the rest of our players in this comedy of errors are either asleep or in Australia. Hmm here is a thought that I did not think till now. You may think that I would be envious of my sisters trip to the land down under, but the thought never crossed my mind until just now. Why wouldn't I be green with envy? I should be, shouldn't I? She is away from here and the cold for three months with the love of her life, what more could any one else envy.

The answer is always Nachos.

Is it fair to only ask questions of people, refusing to answer any yourself?

"What's missing?" -K

I stick by Nachos, but why will not you answer your own questions?

In the end I did enjoy my night, despite the lack of sweaty palms, hallucination, and an over whelming desire to copulate for pleasure. I do not think I got more than a half stock all night. Most disappointing. I did how ever learn the fine art of chewing tobacco, the basics on how to turn mr.turn table and mix mr.mixer so that sound came out in interesting patterns. To be truthful I only ever heard Derek make any noise with the thing when it was not I behind the set doing it myself. It was interesting but I would have assumed if Saif were going to all the work to put together a show that there would, at the very least be a show.

Enver does not like Saif much right now… but I would not blame Saif. Enver did not have to have the party, sure the peer pressure would have made it seem like a good idea, but he knows how these things always end. He should have been more prepared for the only possible outcome.

I too was told to prepare for the end. Extasy will leave you with a hang over for the soul. Upon waking, the mind reaches back and deep down in search of that feeling it held only a few hours ago. Racing faster and faster for fleeting glimpse and feelings of euphoria… the mind finds only the empty shell of despair in the vast chemical expanse of your mind. This drug will make you feel better and forget your worries, but if you do not prepare for the depression of a chemically unbalanced mind, your worries will only strangle you with the sick desperation of fleeting hope.

It has been ten hours and this substance is yet to wear off. I wonder if I would ramble to Lisa if I walk downstairs to make Tea. I could not stop talking all night, which I thought was rather low status of me except that the people I was speaking with seemed to be listing with interest to what I had to say. It could also be a side affect of this little pill that I only think that people were listening, but I will not be able to figure that out just yet. I was talking about everything from Food at the yard, to cancer research, to where Enver stands as a deal maker or deal breaker. How good of a movie Better Luck Tomorrow truly is, and what video games everyone was playing. I would give opinions, and as much news as I could summon to my lips, leaving out as much advice as I could stand when it comes to the fine art of writing a drunk review.

I hate laptops. Why would they make it so that if I tapped on that little screen that it would act as if I clicked? I keeps moving me around the screen and messing up my typing. To cure it I must type with my hands on an uncomfortable angle or tilt the laptop up on my knees.

Edit 11:12

Chad has now entered the ranks as one of those people who wish I would write about him. Drew gets credit for being my muse on this one. If it was not for his late night bantering, I may not have taken up the habit of writing epics while on toxins. Who knows if we would have ever seen my future as I see it on mushrooms if that first stepping stone had not been so carelessly tossed into the river? Adrianna, Kate and Age have also asked for the privilege, if I dare call it that. Something however makes me doubt that it will be any time soon though, if I even write them at all. Of Chad I could write almost an epic, but of Adrianna Kate and Age? Well I fear even now that they would be insulted by my lack of effort or my poor knowledge of the subjects (Them). I mean, I saw Drew's sack while he was wrestling at practice once! That kind of stuff just writes itself!

I think I may go down and make some tea. Yes, I will. Time of departure 11:28

11:31 back with a floppy disk to take previous update off the laptop and onto diaryland.com

I am such a huge firkin nerd.

12:06 I return. Tetley Tea in one hand, cell phone in the other. It is almost the hour when calling Nathen may again be appropriate. I was also a little sketched out hanging around down stairs so I just speed brewed my tea instead of using lose leaf. I am not entirely sure if I like Lose or Tetley Orange Pekoe more.

Ha my laptop is showing the wrong time, it isn't 12:09, it is 11:22. So all my time is about an hour off…. So that means… oh god. All right, I am going to run this beast threw the spell checker. It will be a while. Mmm tea. Finished spellchecker at 12:51. You think I have bad spelling normally? You should have seen what this looked like before I fixed it up. These pills messed me up.

With the telephone call I am about to make the clouds of fog should be finally blown out, to reveal the conclusion of this comedy of errors. Ofcourse it is only after I type all this that I bother to call and no one answers. It is currently 12:53pm lap top time, or 12:06pm real time. Twenty-four hours with out sleep is a fucking long time when you get used to sleeping 10-11 hours a day. This is going to have some long term affects.

Why do I stay calm while others panic when put in the same situation. I blame the Tao of Pooh, and the understanding that things will either work out or they will not. I have two regrets in my life, and if I died at this moment, I could say I did all I came here to do. Ambition is something I lack, or perhaps it is something to be ambition about that is missing from my equation.

Drama as well as debate has shown me both side of almost every situation, and help expose may of the hypocrisies that exist within myself. Lisa was once watching a movie about a young teenaged girl who would cut herself with razors all over her body. She was a very depressed person, and took out most of her angst on herself. It was a cry for help from her to her parents. Lisa (Who is my step mom by the way) could not believe how her parents could just keep sending her to doctors and trying to pretend like nothing was wrong with her. That they seems so uncaring really started to make her upset, and set her off on a rant about understanding teenagers and dealing with self mutilation. Now this is fine so far, as it is only part of the point I am trying to convey with these crude tools.

It was only a day later when she was watching Trauma Life in the ER, and I was perched high atop my desk chair in front of the computer, that I first saw a flaw in my step mothers compassion. A man, middle aged, longish, mousy hair had hammered a pencil into his own gut with his shoe. She laughed. "How silly is that!" She laughed. Then ofcourse, with myself being the essential pointer outer of flaws in other people. (Deirdre having been in another room.) I had to say something, "How can you feel so passionately for the situation of a teenaged girl who mutilates herself then turn around and laugh at a man who is clearly suffering from a similar metal state?" She looked over at me; "Well this guy is just ridiculous."

There is little point in arguing with her. I had made my point and felt self satisfied with my ability to recognize the discrimination that had taken places between this young girl and middle aged man. Knowing that you can make the same mistakes is an important lesson that some do not bother to learn. One that I am trying to learn. I made this very same mistake weeks later. Fubar is playing on TV and Mr.Pink and I are sitting watching a man wade threw the sorrows of having to lose one of his testicles. As he spoke about his life and what was going to happen to him I turned to Dave and said, "You know I would feel a lot more empathetic if he didn't have such long hair." Dave laughed, then agreed.

I am still a long way from knowing all I need to know. Sleep is for the weak and people who do not take crazy pills.

I am going to go shower now.

SEAN!!!

I'd shoot the moon, right out of the sky for you baby; I shoot the moon for you.

1:28pmLaptop 12:41pmRealtime

I just finished watching Better Luck Tomorrow,and if nothing else,it has reaffirmed my love of the Asian peoples.The smooth flow and beautiful filters made it worth while for the cinematography alone.Finding myself caring about each of the characters,watching them move across each of their arcs in a compelling and believable manner was such a treat,especially with such a young cast.The story was not what I expected at all from the few previews I had seen of it,but it was a welcome surprise.

I am currently sitting in my room typing on my dad's old laptop.I am wondering now if I could a wifi connection for it,or if it is too old.It has a small built in 28.8 modem,and a clock speed at just around 133 MHz.I remember when that was huge.When x-wing Vs tie fighter was a monster game because it took 90mhz to run.I remember playing Red Alert against nathen over our screaming modems at 6 am before any one else was awake and needed to use the telephone.I remember how he lagged behind because his processor was only 70mhz… little better than a 486.It still makes me wonder how my old 286 could boot up faster than my 1.9ghz monster in the living room.It is not even really a monster any more.

I still feel drunk.Or High.I cannot decide which.I had my very first hang over this morning and I did not enjoy it.I have drunk a hell of a lot of water today,which is odd for me.I normally do not drink water unless it is piping hot and has had leaves imported from India or china float in it for at least a few minutes.Milk and Sugar are an option that I rarely opt out on.Tyler and I have deiced never to order pizza again.

Tomato sauce mixed,basil,Organo,placed on pre-made dough,then a layer of very expensive cheese,pepperoni,and more cheese,placed in Tyler's Convection Oven for eight minutes resulted in some of the best Pizza I have ever had.Perhaps not Panigo good,but it would give Dominos or the Hut a run for their money.The total bill,(Not counting the cost of the oven,or the power to heat it,the gas to drive to IGA) Came out to $14 for two large pizzas.Last time we had pizza it cost us $27 was sub par and took an hour to get.It is not even hard to make pizza.

I am thinking about passing up the mushrooms tomorrow.They are not a good party drug.I learned that the hard way the first time I took them.Luckily,I never saw too many scary things,but when people know you are on a hallucinogen,they just love to fuck with you.So I may just give in and try some ecstasy instead.Now there us a party drug you can set your watch too.

K was once telling me about her life and how she tried to start smoking.She was a fairly self-destructive state in her life (Or so she said) and wanted something to be addicted to.A crutch so to speak. I did not really understand at the time and called her crazy,as I am finding I often do.She said it never stuck.Never finishing her pack of cigarettes,she instead moved to the States.Not much better perhaps,but things go on.It seemed impossible at the time,that any one would want to start smoking just to have something to rely on,but lately I have begun to understand that a lot better.

I drink tea as a crutch.The tea itself is always very tasty,but I am finding that it is the process that I love.It is something that I can always fall back on when I have nothing else.So while no humanly force could ever make me smoke a cigarette… well unless she was Asian had freckles and said she would only sleep with me if I did smoke… I am starting to understand these crutches that people rely on.Pot may become one if I do not pay attention to the cracks in the ice.It is just so easy,and so much fun.The tips I make in a day pay for two weeks worth of drugs.Being high at work was not very fun,I think I wrote about that last time.When I got there I did all right,but things are just so much harder,and I kept kicking things with my big boots.They get in the way all the time in a cramped kitchen.

I did not smoke up at all today,and I did not want too.That however is most likely due to the fact I felt pretty messed up all day anyway.I can really see the attraction to doing hardcore drugs all the time.Nathen is always messed up it seems,I envy him,but I would never take his place if given the option.It is a good thing I am falling asleep while I type this.When the only things you do in your bed is sleep and have sex it gets hard to do anything else.They say reading in bed is bad for your sleeping habits,so I do not think writing will be any better for me.

I saw another female comedian today on TV.I watched for about a minute and it was enough for me to lose faith in the world.Women should stick to the bedroom.All the best cooks are men anyway.

I feel like writing more, but I can't. I have to have a shower and go back to work. I did shower yesterday. I showered the morning on the day before. I feel dirty. I am dirty. I need to shower. I finished the Chronicles of Narnia and now I can't stop daydreaming. I am half way threw Life of Pi already. I keep having dreams that my teeth are falling out, or at least one does because my wisdom teeth keep pushing them out to make room. I need to get my wisdom teeth taken care of. I have 4 of them. I do not look forward to it. I have decided I like the winter. Snow makes the winter better. I used to hate the winter. It was just cold and no snow. I like the snow. I was biking every day during out -40 blizzard fest. I enjoyed it greatly. I do lookforward to the melting wetness. I think I should get a splash suit.

I should be in the shower. I ate some really good soup today. I don't normally like soups. They taste pretty good most of the time; I’m just never like "Mmmmmmm soup! Lucky me!" It always seemed a little low class... but it was good. I have been reading a lot lately. I haven't been playing much video games, but I will fix that in due time.

My head hurts and I need to blow my nose. The cold weather does a number on my breathing while biking. I love the feel of my tires fish tailing out form under me and the metal teeth on the rims of my tires catching the ice and bring me upright. Safe, until it happens again. It is a leap of faith I must admit. What if they don't catch next time I need to get out of that icy rut in the middle of the street, I could fall over and be hit by a car.

It is a lot like climbing as well. You have to trust that when you make that next push, that next jump, that when you miss, the person holding your rope, won't let it slip, that they will catch you and you won't fall 20 meters to your untimely death.

You have to trust that when the iceberg you are walking across gives way, that the other people on your line will catch their axes into the snow before you drag everyone into the carver with you.

Trust trust trust.

You have to trust that the woman you brought home from the bar doesn't have crabs or aids and that she will untie your hands from the head bored when she wakes up in the morning.

You have to trust that the cook didn't sneeze in your soup. That the mechanic didn't install the fuel injector incorrectly and that you won't explode next time you rev your engine.

You have to trust that the doctor isn't going to mistakenly feel a lump in your breast and saw it of before double-checking. You have to trust that if there is a lump, that he will find it.

I myself do my best. When I say I will do something, I try to do it. When I am cooking, I bleach my hands after putting raw chicken in the oven, after cleaning the split lambs blood. If a for hits the floor, I wash it. I also know some people don't. They aren’t careful. I don't like eating out any more, for the simple reason that I know what goes on in those kitchens.

I eat at McGettigans because I know who made the stew... 9 times out of 10 I made it. I know it won't be undercooked, or have a band-aid in it. I know the tomatoes in the Brushetta were washed before they were cut up. I also know the salmon we use doesn't come for the ocean... but if the customers don't ask, I won't tell them about the lead and mercury poisoning cases. If you don't read the newspaper, or watch the news, maybe you deserve to die a slow metal death.

I need to shower. G'day.