Running for Home

This is a thing that I've forgotten how to do and they always say these kinds of things come back to you in an instant, a wrist flick, knuckle-crack half a second. They say lots of things. I've forgotten how to allign words in a way that isn't a business letter, an academic paper, some sort of endless list of things I have to do but give no fucks about. And I just try to keep my skin clean, my feet dry from the rain and my clock set. I'm never late anymore. It's like the world has forced me out of my way of existing. My circadian rhythm is broken. I sleep in the afternoons, dream in the days and have these misplaced hours where I'm nowhere nothing entirely oblivious which disturbs me. I'm trying to reallign and regain that thing that makes life more than routine. I think that's what you call those moments of salient awareness. It's not so much that the moment itself is any type of extraordinary, just that you're visible to yourself. You're in it. It's those moments where there are thunder storms outside coffee shops amidst streams of sunshine, strangers with stolen art work and savage smiles asking for your name, your number. It's the walks down tenth when nothing is unconscious subconscious it's just orange cats with green eyes sitting on roof tops watching you as you'renaming all of the flowers to yourself: forsythia, delphinium, love-in-a-mist, forget-me-not I dream often and not always in colour. And right now I'm living in this little fragment of life that you're not in and the distance is difficult and it hurts sometimes. I am cocooning into sheets, books and skin, sleeping facing away from you.

life has been a blur of awesomeness since exams

but at the moment im worried about my joblessness and my library overdue fees and maybe unpacking and sorting out this whole where im going to live fiasco within the next two days.

strongly dislike.

suddenly the sun's out more and times have been good. picnics in the park with $50 worth of sushi and green tea lemonades and finishing projects, sitting in the library with friends before ditching for lady gaga and 80's burgers and fries. Remembering how to have fun with people, house parties, and bottles of white wine. A & W at 3 in the morning because drive through is a truly beautiful thing, falling asleep on the carpet. I forget what happened sunday, i think i attempted to study and then slept next to you. next day was failed exams and meeting a horde of dorky ubc fourth years trying desperately to get their science requirements. i love the sound the skytrain makes, the way the lights blur at night. Running in to old friends, almost hitting cats in hysterics with good friends, watching irish movies and drinking too much red wine, feeling a little outnumbered by the boys but making the best of it and listeing to the birds sing fanatically at 4 am when i walked home under the thunder and lightning. Next day was kraft dinner for everyone in my kitchen, the fire going and a hundred episodes of the office. i fell asleep and dreamed in technicolour.

life and those in it have been pretty fucking unimpressive lately

not happy with the way things are going

feel like calling it quits and i dont care what you have to say

fixing all of this will take time but it's better than pretending it doesn't exist.

my tongue and my ventricles have been tied up in knots lately and my voice is too quiet at times

jesus the devil and batman

people are fascinating. Sitting across from friends, listening to stories of ireland and kissing too many lips at one time, spiderwebs and hostels and running into girls in fur coats. And free hot chocolates from nice boys at starbucks, people singing at bus stops, rain slamming on the roof. I've been thinking a lot about things.

also I really love spring, tulips and crocuses and sunshine when i wake up.

and that it's just so beautiful watching people accept themselves. It makes me stop between bus stops and due dates and attempts to see people and sleep ten hours, maybe brush my hair, makes me stop and wonder what i have left to accept or change.

i started writing again, not a lot yet, not stories and memoirs and enough poems to wallpaper the house. but i wrote. i wrote about the people around me and growing up and feeling awake, i wrote about the beautiful things and the ugly things and what it is to grow up, become a boyscout, wonder about jesus and the devil and batman. (for those of you who know me you know how much i normally write. it was so vacant going eight months without words. i wanted to tear my hair out)

i love these things, the quiet moments where i remember how to be alone without being lonely.

this giant canvas is killing me and honestly im incapable of painting people, especially myself, regardless of that i love the way paint feels when its stuck between my toes in my hair on the canvas and everything is alive and technicolour.

University can be a killer of everything but there's still easter dinner and champagne and trips to burnaby for no reason, really talking with friends in passenger seats, seeing herons up close, getting things organized and happening and remembering all those faces that i love so much and today taking a trip downtown to buy the new john butler album

love