If I was Scaught, I'd probably have a picture of the stuff that's been coming out of my throat in my sink or something. I'm not Scaught though, and I don't have a digital camera, so no go. There is something really satisfying about seeing some really solid expectorate in your sink though (or in your palm if yr in the shower--am I right?)

Anyway, I want to ask you something: Do I say things like "precisely" or "plausible" in everyday conversation? I hear UofC students saying this stuff all the time and I'm like, "good grief," but then I remember that maybe just last week I said something like "yeah, it's plausible that one day I will eat mushrooms." Some of the stuff you hear people saying, you just want to drop them. I don't want people to feel that way about me.

I've been watching a lot of CSI on DVD these past few weeks and have started to wonder what my body and its clothing might reveal if ever I was to drop dead somewhere. Like what is underneath my fingernails or stuck in the crevasses of my jeans? What sort of story are my pants going to tell? Wait, let me do a quick body check . . .

Okay, here's the evidence:

- bites fingernails
- scab on left pointer finger from clumsy scrape on door frame (they'd probably be able to tell it was a doorframe somehow)
- gravel from somewhere stuck in sole of sneakers.
- wierd pills on hoodie from wearing it inside out all the time.
- legs are bright white, obviously hasn't worn shorts in 4+ years.

If I was Scaught, I'd probably have a picture of the stuff that's been coming out of my throat in my sink or something. I'm not Scaught though, and I don't have a digital camera, so no go. There is something really satisfying about seeing some really solid expectorate in your sink though (or in your palm if yr in the shower--am I right?)

Anyway, I want to ask you something: Do I say things like "precisely" or "plausible" in everyday conversation? I hear UofC students saying this stuff all the time and I'm like, "good grief," but then I remember that maybe just last week I said something like "yeah, it's plausible that one day I will eat mushrooms." Some of the stuff you hear people saying, you just want to drop them. I don't want people to feel that way about me.

I've been watching a lot of CSI on DVD these past few weeks and have started to wonder what my body and its clothing might reveal if ever I was to drop dead somewhere. Like what is underneath my fingernails or stuck in the crevasses of my jeans? What sort of story are my pants going to tell? Wait, let me do a quick body check . . .

Okay, here's the evidence:

- bites fingernails
- scab on left pointer finger from clumsy scrape on door frame (they'd probably be able to tell it was a doorframe somehow)
- gravel from somewhere stuck in sole of sneakers.
- wierd pills on hoodie from wearing it inside out all the time.
- legs are bright white, obviously hasn't worn shorts in 4+ years.

I am fucking sick sick sick. Not only that, I'm angry at my sickness for making me feel this way. Fucking fuck. My day consists of wandering around in an acetaminophen haze, going to classes, wandering home again, and watching Friends, Will and Grace and Gilmore Girls on one of the three channels my TV gets (or CSI on my laptop). WTF? Someday I will be an old man and this will be EVERY DAY OF THE REST OF MY LIFE. Fuck, I can't even imagine the breakdown of my body. My mind's not exactly in top shape either. I had all this funny stuff to tell you about Dakota Fanning's braces, and UofC students and whatnot...

Okay, off to gargle hot salt water.

N

Oh shit, where have I been? I guess basically I am on vacation right now (one week break between winter and spring quarters), but technically I have not gone anywhere. Miami threats were made but brokedness intervened -- I'm back where I was in early December, surviving on scraps and the generosity of others.

Let's see, what have I done so far this week?

I went to the doctor--or "nurse practioner" or whatever--for the first time in forever. Tell me this, how many of you would put "12-15 drinks/week" on a questionnaire? I did, and she asked if I felt I had a problem. I scored points later on though, when after listening to my heart she said "You work out." "Nope," I said, "I just take the stairs all the time." "Your heart is like a metronome," she said. Not to toot my own horn...

Other than that, I've just been hanging out at the coffee shop and the library. I'm gonna get back into pinball I think. Tonight I'm going to goth night at Neo. Good times. I get paid next week and I really want some new sneakers....

Updated list of all the words I've added to my t9w predictive text catalogue:

Albini
Asshole
Bisous
Bitch
Classist
Cocks
Bummer
Elises
Fuck
fave
estelles
Fucked
Fucking
DVD
Hp
istria
Hc
halsted1
Gd
Gnarly
impressionism
ikea
Grr
Gillian
Kirby
Laguna
lambor jambos
Kanye
Omg
Mc
New
Nein
Nh
Noah
Nicoise
Oprah
Ouch
Shitty
ritz
Shit
Puckett
Rae
Sluts
rodan
Roeper
Slob
steens
sux
tite
talan
toronto
totes
yay
Yikes
Xiu

Last May, on the train between Cambronne and Glaciere, a man of about thirty, sitting opposite a very pretty girl, skillfully separated a magazine he was pretending to read, in such a way that the girl was presented with the sight of his penis, erect, complete and magnificient. Some fool's discovery of this exhibitionist act, an act which had plunged the gril into a tremendous and delicious confusion, but without the slightest protest, was enough to cause the exhibitionist to be apprehended and expelled by the other passengers. We can only express our vehement indignation and our contempt for such abominable behaviour against one of the purest and most disinterested acts a man is capable of performing in our age of corruption and moral degradation.

Salvador Dali (Le Surrealisme au Service de la Revolution, No. 2)

I imagine that some of you may read Eye Magazine's "Totally Wired" section and/or Stereogum, but whatever. A hilarious "sendup" of record store employees. Pretty hamfisted, but also kind of funny. Don't worry, I won't use this opportunity to make a disparaging John Crossingham reference.

Had a swanky Saturday. Went with Elise and her mom to a fancy seafood "resto" (who says that?) Not to be immodest, but I had these ladies in tears with my side splitting humour all night. I then somehow ended up at the W hotel in the 33rd floor lounge, drinking comp. beer. Chicago!

So I might have told some Toronto people that I keep on seeing Steve Albini all over the place. Big Mistake. That guy is NOT Albini! I was at the Rainbo Club last night and I mentioned to Ashley that I thought the guy over there was Albini. So she marches right up to him and starts chatting him up. I go over a few minutes later, turns out the guy is named Mark. I was "Huh. So you didn't record that Thrush Hermit album then?" Then I went to a goth bar and danced my face off to industrial techno music. Highlight: Hung Up/Madonna. That's a banger.

So what is up? I don't know. Whatever. Vancouver. I get really upset when I think I might never live in Vancouver again. I would really like to. I talked with Erika about being an academic for the rest of my g-d life and not really having a choice where to live. We decided Toronto, Montreal, or Vancouver would be the tops -- I can't really imagine living anywhere else. Is that completely boring? I may have told you already, but I never had any ambition to move further than Toronto when I was in High School. I thought, "yeah, maybe someday I'll get a job, move to Toronto." Of course I always had/have really vague, abstract notions of the future. This was also the time (high school) when I thought that if I didn't get into university I'd end up a homeless person (no joke).

Sorry this is way too boring. I could just post Graeme's emails to me, but I don't think he'd like that (or only like it perversely, not officially) Anyways, check back in soon, I promise insane drama.

In the meantime here are some questions:

1. How retarded is polyamory? Check out their logo, a heart with an infinity sign. Barf. I think I hate all sexual idenities though (Sorry, gay people, but it's true)
2. How good is Screeching Weasel's "Anthem for a New Tomorrow"? Olvia, back me up.
3. Why is Salvador Dali only loved by stupid people when obviously he's the craziest/most incredible artist of the 20th century?
4. Who will give me a haircut?
5. Why is Chicago not romantic?

N

I'm back from Vancouver and my sleep is totally whacked. I slept 7 hours last night, but for some reason also had to sleep 3 hours this afternoon after class. What's up with that? I had a really great time in Vancouver of course, but I'm not sure what I could really say about it that anyone would really be interested in. I'll get back to you, I'm still pretty tired. More than that I'm really boring right now. What's my problem?

I finally got reviewed in Pitchfork! Check out the fourth line, that's me, I was there!