who reads this?

I am curling my hair just to see and thinking about becoming a talkshow host who broadcasts from mystery places from the arctic i think it would be a hit it would just be me raising such important issues as whos labia would be best to live on currently i could call elvis costello or maybe one of the people from that scottish group who did the terry fox song that was on benny and joon call them my brothers yeah i even have glasses i can blaance an curling iron on my head and type yet another thing to amuse my adoring fans with when i am an imfamous talk show host.

I gave away my journal. I kept it for three years. I would rip out pages, scratch out and paste over everything I wrote. So self critical. Then I finally gave it away as a gift. To a friend, to remember me by. Now, a year later, i wonder where it's been.Has it been abandoned along the way? I almost hope so. And I hope that someone else owns it now and reads all those thoughts and wonders. Do I ask or keep it a mystery?

A dilemma. I suppose I only care because I have nothing better to do right now.

I think I might write fake journals and leave them places. That will be my new hobby.

Guilty Pleasure = TEEN ANGSSSTT

I definitely scoff at it every second I get. I'm way to damn rational and mature, you know, to wallow in my self-pity. Thats what I'll have you believe. "Deal with it and move on," is what I preach. But some days all I want is to lay in bed and cry on the phone to some bussom buddy about how lonely I am and that nobody understands me, while full well knowing that I have plenty of friends and family who love me and at least try to understand. Or to sit in a starbucks and whine about how I just wish that boy would notice me, if only I were prettier... ohhhhh to be 15 and seeking attention by walking with my head to the ground and leaning against walls looking all brooding and moody. I had my short stint with teen angst. We had some laughs and soon parted ways. But sometimes I just get nostalgic and all I want to do is listen to some postal service and cry my itty bitty heart out. Sadly I have better things to do with my time.

I thought I was damn artsy.

A fortnight in a wonderland of new faces and voices harmonizing. The sun on my skin, the moon on my skin, the water everyday. Pillars of green and tarps flapping in the wind. The wolf howls, the enemy growls and a beaver slaps his tail. Just pound a few beers and go down to the river and pray.

Blink and rolling away automated, synthesized. Blink and photocopies by the pound on goldenrod or salmon.
Say goodbye. Adjust. Integrate into regular society. Today may be torture and panic attacks but let's wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow, the day I just might wake up and fall in love with teamwork and the four C's.

It's either this or a mall job.

I am aware. I am aware that life is "hard." I, infact, prefer it that way. But walmart and witholding these things just makes me want to sleep till closing time. No, I wouldn't shut the world out. I wouldn't mind a visitor. But the comfort of a comforter is just that.

Dear Midnight train tracks,

Basking in your redlamp glow dares my sense.

Love,
The Beat

leaves

I have never seriously considered a tattoo untill today. I stumbled across an artist who's got a style completly on is own not a tribal band in sight. Annnd he just recently set up shop in Montreal. Exciting. One day maybe I will go there and get a Yann Black tattoo. maybe.




I'm exiting hermitville as of today and would like to make a public apology to all those who I couldn't bother dropping a line to. You alll mean alot to me and now that everyone is moving on, up and out I went into hiding to ignore it all. blah blah mushy


I borrowed a trumpet from a friend and am attempting to reteach myself. I'm not sure how the neighbourhood feels about that. Its reallly old and dented and falling apart. But if gives it character. Plusss it is fun to take picures with. blah blah superegolove me. I forgot how sore your lips get though. And i'm not sure if it is good for my jaw wich has been hurting/clicking lately. I'm going to the dentist about that tommorow. Thats right I am actually going to a medical professional to deal with a problem. I figure its got to do with my face so I should probably deal with that right?




The northland construction is going well. It's an unbelievable experiance building ahouse. you should try it some time.

I am a power pussy.

2.5 hour 90's singalong right out of a summertime blockbuster. I am on a vacation in suburbia. I have realized i could be a housewife after 10 days of fixin' lunch for the framing crew. Yeah we kick it old style. I return some time within the next few days. people are flying off soon and I need to see them before they run away from here. Many memories were made this week. I'm going to miss watching that red moon rise. Water water water. I feel odd not being near it.

laughter kills when you've got to cough

barefoot_windy: is surf outlaw going with you up north ?
Allie: nopeee
barefoot_windy: shitty deal
Allie: hes got to play hiss hornnn all day long
barefoot_windy: to get into school? or to be lame?
Allie: to be lame


I'm going to build walls and then they are going to go up up and then I'm going to sleep in there one day. The cottage I mean. We are building one. It's intense. I'm excited.

Coffe Date

Brad Pitt walked by doing a jig and Lulu sat and told me how he stole the Eiffel tower.
I made a joke she didn't get.
It would be awkward if the girl on the other side of the glass heard.
Brad Pitt walked by scratching his head and he made me want to cry.
The blue arrows turnedthe wrong way.
Turned green and I remembered.
We were zombies in the street
and I leave too many messages on your phone.
Brad Pitt walked by and I'm glad he can't see me anymore.

True story.

All I did today was eat jam sandwiches on white white bread, fold laundry and watch old movies on tv.
I wore a mumu and felt like i should be on marriedd with children or a dumb cheesey hopeless sit com.

Distant Ships

This man on the bus was insane. He wasn't talking to me but I was evesdropping on his conversation with this girl he clearly just met. If she wasn't on the bus I probably would have been her. Anyway first he's talking about trying to get his british passport because of being from some island that used to be under britsh rule but is not any longer hasn't been for awhile and how he was on his way to the library to find out ways to like out smart the government into this. Then he lapses into how terrible the transit system is but was really complaining about taxis when they are private not public. He got to his stop and picked up 50 million bags of empty cans and left. The girl looked like she was going to kill herself. I hope he dosn't think England is a better place just because it somewhere else.

and thats why I don't drive cars.

I spent all weekend building a boardwalk and a beach and looking at weird bugs and intermitandly dancing to braodway music on the boat. Did you know the guy who wrote "Escape" like the pina colada song ... IF YOU LIKE PINA COLADA'S AND GETTING LOST IN THE RAIN... yeah that one. Well yeah he wrote two musicals. Also the original lyrics were "If you like Humphrey Bogart and getting lost in the rain." But he changed that an hour before he recorded. He would probably have nothing if he didn't change those lyrics.

How hard would it be to become a xylophone player in a jazz band?
(11:13:35) anna - A-BOOT: i dunno if there is jazz xylophone
(11:13:42) anna - A-BOOT: id imagine its something like jazz vibes
Or whatever it is that sounds like some kind of metal instrument you hit with a mallet....... That is my new true calling and I will become z-list famous after meeting some semi-royal annoying british man and be able to write stupid childrens books just because.

mission celebrate completion of mandatory education

Notice the nails I havvee had those on for month. a MONTH.
They are creeping me out. I need to make time to remove those demons.

the clubb

I found spirtual enlightenment. No really, wtf is that even supposed to be?

Birdman Poppagano attttattattatttaack.
Cameron is the biggest horror movie nerd ever.
he should be a professer orf zombology.

So coo to the point of spending hours trying to re live the rockin robin days of our youth.

Swear by the gin.

I'm not having brown rice with a spicy blackbean tomato sauce and asparagus for dinner.

Turning point. Mile stone. "This is the begging of you life!" they say. "Go out and grab life by the horns" Sure, or I could cut off my hair and go for a nap in the grass. Plow through piles of paper wad buildup. Cry not because I miss my childhood but because I am happy to be re-living it with a slightly improved vocabulary, knowledge of world issues and fashion sense. Except I do miss those northern getaway shirts. I'm going to send out a few resumes and aspire to be something but I think I'd rather stroll on over than run full steam ahead. I'm going to keep writing letters to the sky, to atom bombs and to people who life across the universe. Sit on my porch, drink tea and watch that old lady across the street to tell her husband to "fuck off." Examine the bugs on the walkway out back. Frolic. Play bingo. Look out my window. Sip some wine, look up at the stars and some other cliche coming of age shit. I like it this way. Nice and easy.

Bitchin'.