enough subterfuge

Oh have I got some good news yesterday, [re: fissure] made me feel light as a feather. I haven't slept this well in weeks (months maybe). It's actually kind of perplexing; see there's this huge weight that's been lifted off our shoulders (especially mine) and now that it's gone, I can feel how heavy it really was -- it's like I can breathe again. It's wonderful. All this (needless) distress made me far less productive than I ever could've imagined. Woke up to my roomate's exquisite coffee, rolled-up my sleeves, gazed into the window as if to say «bring it on».

according to

It is general conception on my behalf that: a) I need to step outside more often/get some air/enjoy the sunlight, that the amount of time spent in the appartment working on my own will render my social working class abilities outside of my shell completely inept; b) my life revolves solely around myself and my work; c) I have a bleak individualist outlook on life all the while very quickly shifting between optimism and pessimism, tempermental and a bit condescending (sarcastic?); d) I am addicted to nicotine, my acohol dependency becomes dangerously close to alcoholism when in times of turmoil, I am in denial with regards to the concequences of such actions; e) I should sleep more, I should exercise more, I should have a healthier diet -- all these should lead to less anxiety/stress; f) I am patheticaly stuck with an obsession on my ex-girlfriend and the life we shared for I haven't had a life-partner since nor made an attempt to find one nor has my heart set on another partner in the general amount of time it usually takes for one to "get over it" and "move on" thus, again, increasing my social ineptitudes and reducing my overall appeal in the process, I am also perhaps in denial of my own sexual orientation due to this lapse; g) I have unrealistic goals that prevent me (blind me) from acquiring the financial ressources that are available to me at this very moment, it is therefore an illogical self-appointed ideal that, if pursued, lessens my chances of present stability and future investments; h) though I am able to forgive from time to time, I am in most cases unable to forget and I often set this bar very high, carpe diem is non-existent to me and this results in an unnecessary overbearing weight of past occurences on my shoulders which I have no control over/cannot change even if I wanted to... -- The list probably goes on and on much further than this, but this is, in small doses (sometimes subtly, sometimes direct), things people say about me, most of which are absolutely disingenuous and some... I have to admit spark some truth. My point is this though: would it be alright to point out some nice things about me from time to time? I could just politely tell you to go fuck yourselves and mind your own business, most people who criticize aren't in a good position to criticize in the first place (I know I'm criticizing critics), it is NOT concern, I refuse to accept that (but oh how I appreciate the UNSOLICITED advice, thank you very much)... but no, I'll take it. I think I can handle it. 'Cause we're all on the "judge switch", no point in denying that -- we could reach for that "compliment/support/encourage" switch a bit more often, no? You might say «and where is THAT fabled switch on THIS blog?» and I'll simply say that there rarely is one, but hey, you can go read something else. Don't make me you, I don't want to be you, but I do love you.

fissure

I'm watching rain pour outside through my bedroom window while finalizing some work. Behind me, on awful mattresses, there's a huge lazy cat resting on one of my old suits (he claimed it as his own a few weeks ago). To my left, a semi-consumed cup of joe, borrowed cigarettes and a paint palette with twine in its center... On my right there are secrets. I'm half way through to my self appointed deadline, overdue not only for work but one hell of a shave. Time to step outside for a few minutes, pick up a random spring coat from the floor (it isn't necessary to take a quick look in the mirror; I'm aware that I am getting even closer to my poor-classic-sick-crooner-aging-quickly look than I've ever been, the temperature is inviting and makes for a superb camouflage), cross out "borrow" and start again, as if maybe my family and I can finally see a minuscule ray of light at the end of our tunnel, temporary but still a light.

160406

Waiting for the paint to settle, this is the part of designing/directing that I hate; how the process can kill the immediacy of the moment (and music is quite the opposite thankfully). It's kind of like getting real close to a climax during sex though you have to wait an hour before you actually "get there" without any sexual stimuli to keep you going, your mind drifts away doesn't it? Hmm that wasn't very classy... But anyway, I feel better now (I was sick, the only thing I need to unload is wet paper over a scanner, still slightly arousing), working my way back in the thick of it all, surrounded by dozens of sheets with spontaneous paintings & cigarette smoke hovering in a dim-lighted room devoid of air (beautiful!).

--

April in Montreal, we're all very impatient (well, I know I am), longing stable warmth –- all the while vulnerable to colds and viruses, trapped in a fake autumn. It won't be long now. I see it in the mirror, I'll remember my mid-twenties as the time when my body couldn't take as much abuse as it used to, scars have trouble healing, fatigue leaving deeper marks -- apparent aging. In a whole, stress has taken its toll on me... nonetheless I will parade the city-summer as the out-of-place wreck that I am, with deep memories, all inconsequential, on familiar paths with a different face.

yes! more poisons!

I'm not at all pleased with hearing people sing tunes out loud in public when it isn't called for; just carelessly singing to themselves or to passers-by -- you piss me off, you have no talent(ain't a question of talent really, just going nuts here), I am not impressed, it has nothing to do with being free-spirited, stop it, there's enough noise pollution as is. There's more to this than my usual mr.temper-temper rants, it's an absolutely selfish act and it honestly blows my mind. A moi-je guy passing me by not even for a fraction of a second asking himself if I have any desire or not to hear him "sing" nor if I will enjoy it or not, thinking to himself that I'm probably blessed by his outgoing -- it's just.. no, no no no. Alright, moving along... Dangerous curves ahead; really hectic work load coming up, I knew this was gonna happen, you know "calm before the storm" and all that. I'm enthusiastic about it though, don't read me wrong, it's getting ye ol' creative blood a-flowin'. You should watch this and marvel at the genius at work (self-censored at that!), oh how Bill Hicks laughs as he awakens people to the reality of smoking, it's beautiful. Might have to drop by Chicago, no worries there, can't wait to show off some of this new stuff I'm working on, it's dreadfully me... See you then.

Montreal [03]

I don't really mean this in a bad way, but I was blind to fashion a few years back but "someone" brought back these superficial impressions (not unlike an adult-teen mentality/small town culture/someone wearing a mask) and I haven't been able to get em' out of my head since. By that I meant that I could be mixed with any type of pepole and see them simply as "people", that's how it should be. [Self-Protective-Quote: «these usually come from people who resent trends when they're excluded from the movement. Now you judge if that fits my character or not. I won't hold it against you.» ] It came back to me while strolling through Montreal this week, it's not as bad as it was before but yeah -- it is somewhere in the back of my mind. I used to be blissed, it's very annoying. Made me feel untouchable but pure, you know? I have to find that connection again, maybe parade through the root of the problem, in the fakest area there is, my aversion for those who would bring me back to that place -- oh how I long for the Montreal exceptions again. Dance clubs, nightspots, quasi-orgy lounges, drug-afterhours -- they're all fine/fun to me, but that shouldn't be your sole lifestyle, you know? On blank stares of idiotic women, looking down on me while I have no desire to set the record straight, it is my pet peeve. The latter for the general montrealer female is an abundance of perverts, I can barely count on one hand all of my female friends who "haven't" been somewhat attacked by some fucker somewhere in the city. While these happen on every street corner, it also happens in nests of superficial highs, tell me now - dites-moi how elite this is? There is a ring of Laval-type guys who roll down here with their fancy attitudes in the sole goal of abusing easy-to-impress mid-twenties Montrealer women and have their way with them aided by certain rape drugs -- they share their annonymous stories online and promoters abide by this pressured by threats that their families might get hurt (though it is sometimes partisan, of course) [one EXTREMIST case out of many, but it does happen more than you might think, in very notorious nightclubs, not only in some dirty back alley -- nothing moral can come from an excess of superficial frequentations ]. Protect your friends people. I love the city but it takes on another shape at night. If reading all this negativity pisses you off, read something else, though I would advise you to notice how your girlfriends are undressed (and I mean heavily) through eyes of evil pervs all over the city at any time, in any place (metro for instance, goddamn it's appauling). Fuck them up, don't let them get away with it.

On another Montreal-note, some people have been telling me that they're voting for husk/essem as their favorite Montreal blog (don't let the comments fool you, it's getting insane hits), of all blogs I think mine is personal and bland/vague, I doubt that it can be one of Montreal's bests but you can vote for it on the 17th Annual BOM under "best blog" and vote for all sorts of crazy shit, I love their categories. Thanks.