Today was a SNOW DAY! because Victorians are so funny and no one knows how to deal with six inches of powder and sub-zero winds. Even the bank was closed:
Dear valued customers,
Please note that ScotiaBank will be closed on Monday November 27 due to weather conditions for the safety of our staff. The automatic banking machines are open 24 hours for your convenience.
Love,
ScotiaBank
Suffice it to say, much time was spent in bed. With tea and random scraps of food found in my cavernous refrigerator that sounds like it's dying more and more with each passing day. I ate carrot almond yam soup at Bean and said HOW to a poor, unsuspecting employee at Value Village when Elise bought man-pants when what I really meant to say was either hi, or howdy.
My outfit currently consists of a Dashboard Confessional t-shirt, a brown hoodie, a black scarf, long underwear, red plaid boxers, and my product of Pakistan socks. Elise's house is minus five hundred degrees, but hopefully bunny-shaped organic macaroni and cheese + spooning will = warmth.
Yes, I'm aware of the fact that it's twenty past twelve. This is how real university students roll. Word.
11.28.2006
11.25.2006
Used to lay on the roof and drink beer...
Tarot cards are scary bananas.
You showed up twice in my reading tonight.
A woman who is intensely perceptive, quick and confident in all she does. A woman of strong character; she can bear her sorrow...
Disorder, confusion, loss. Lovers are separated by war or misfortune...
Dear Acedemia,
Our love-hate relationship has been pushed off to one side of the scale, and I think you know which side that is. I think you are also aware of how profoundly unimpressed I am.
Love,
Chelsea
You showed up twice in my reading tonight.
A woman who is intensely perceptive, quick and confident in all she does. A woman of strong character; she can bear her sorrow...
Disorder, confusion, loss. Lovers are separated by war or misfortune...
Dear Acedemia,
Our love-hate relationship has been pushed off to one side of the scale, and I think you know which side that is. I think you are also aware of how profoundly unimpressed I am.
Love,
Chelsea
Finnerty Gardens
We linked our elbows at the gate and pushed
toward home.....unsteady feet over broken stones
and loose bracken.....my pupils wide with night
and wanting.....I thought we were lost but you
explorer.....searched furtive until we came
upon the pond.....you spoke disjointed lines
of Dark Pines under Water.....eyes fastened
down.....deeper.....in an elementary world
your hand cold through my coat.....a heavy grace
an anguished dream that left me groping
the dark for the soft nuance of silence
between those borrowed verses
toward home.....unsteady feet over broken stones
and loose bracken.....my pupils wide with night
and wanting.....I thought we were lost but you
explorer.....searched furtive until we came
upon the pond.....you spoke disjointed lines
of Dark Pines under Water.....eyes fastened
down.....deeper.....in an elementary world
your hand cold through my coat.....a heavy grace
an anguished dream that left me groping
the dark for the soft nuance of silence
between those borrowed verses
11.24.2006
pupils wide with night and wanting
I'm pretty much the most useless person in Western Canada right now.
I haven't spent this much time swooning in, er, ever.
Fuck. How happy am I right now?
So happy, is the answer you are looking for.
I haven't spent this much time swooning in, er, ever.
Fuck. How happy am I right now?
So happy, is the answer you are looking for.
11.22.2006
*Smirk.*
I got less than two hours of sleep last night. And not because I was writing a poem in loose blank verse. Sorry, Carla. I promise I have a good excuse.
11.21.2006
To the immaculate boy in my Psych lecture, Part II:
You only pale in comparison.
*****
how little the reach, what is love love? its
impossible repeat attenuated through telephone
wire the light letter language of "fax it," hearts
darling and x's intend body's imprint, stand in for
the unremitting smell of your skin just there at
neck's bony hollow in your hair both kinds that
arc the pelvic ridge keys your other speech
close up and swollen lips aflare with wet
declaration bold face - without which I sleep
small print in the white of the page
- Daphne Marlatt, Small Print
*****
how little the reach, what is love love? its
impossible repeat attenuated through telephone
wire the light letter language of "fax it," hearts
darling and x's intend body's imprint, stand in for
the unremitting smell of your skin just there at
neck's bony hollow in your hair both kinds that
arc the pelvic ridge keys your other speech
close up and swollen lips aflare with wet
declaration bold face - without which I sleep
small print in the white of the page
- Daphne Marlatt, Small Print
11.19.2006
11.17.2006
The desert seemed so promising, but then it paled somehow.
I think the best part of my new life is that I just don't wear bras anymore. Ever.
And you. Of course.
And you. Of course.
11.16.2006
woke up this morning still stoned
Me: What are you looking at?
Her: The Calgary skyline.
Me: It'll turn you back into a hetero if you're not careful.
Her: The Calgary skyline.
Me: It'll turn you back into a hetero if you're not careful.
11.15.2006
November
Winter is coming
its long monochrome
a tired body
weathered grey
and blemished
by the bare arteries
of freezing trees
but already
these last days of fall
the man in the blue rain
slicker has his blue
broom and stands stiff
arms out.....sweeping
their yellow detritus off
the sidewalk
the day cold through
his plastic jacket
his hands purpling
blue capillaries showing
through thinning skin
its long monochrome
a tired body
weathered grey
and blemished
by the bare arteries
of freezing trees
but already
these last days of fall
the man in the blue rain
slicker has his blue
broom and stands stiff
arms out.....sweeping
their yellow detritus off
the sidewalk
the day cold through
his plastic jacket
his hands purpling
blue capillaries showing
through thinning skin
11.14.2006
11.12.2006
11.08.2006
To the immaculate boy in my Psych lecture:
I think I'm in love with you and I don't even know your name.
Always,
Chelsea
Always,
Chelsea
11.06.2006
Don't pretend this will not end.
I really have to stop deluding myself and come to terms with the fact that Kraft Dinner has absolutely no nutritional value. Also, I miss Jenna.
The end.
The end.
11.05.2006
Happy birthday.
This rain is hardcore, man. The sewers are flooding, it's pooling in the gutters. I'm really going to hate my astonishing lack of waterproof footwear tomorrow. Straight up. If I didn't have a Psych test tomorrow I would probably just stay in bed.
I bet you figured I forgot.
I bet you figured I forgot.
11.04.2006
Fuck, Margaret Atwood. Why aren't we lovers?
This is what I miss, Cordelia: not something that's gone, but something that will never happen. Two old women giggling over their tea.
This woman has printed my entire existence in literature, and I don't know her at all. My life as the plot of Cat's Eye would be far more disconcerting if I wasn't so fascinated by how the hell she did that.
There is, however, always the possibility that I am one giant cliche, full of flat adjectives and stale anecdotes. There is the possibility that we all are.
I haven't been to the ocean in weeks. It's killing me. There is no time. Also, I am dying to see Bruce Cockburn at the McPherson Playhouse tonight, but I've resigned myself to an evening of poem revision over dinner and the Amelie soundtrack, and laundry, if I can work up enough concern for personal hygene. I still have clean underwear, so the chances of that happening are quickly waning.
This woman has printed my entire existence in literature, and I don't know her at all. My life as the plot of Cat's Eye would be far more disconcerting if I wasn't so fascinated by how the hell she did that.
There is, however, always the possibility that I am one giant cliche, full of flat adjectives and stale anecdotes. There is the possibility that we all are.
I haven't been to the ocean in weeks. It's killing me. There is no time. Also, I am dying to see Bruce Cockburn at the McPherson Playhouse tonight, but I've resigned myself to an evening of poem revision over dinner and the Amelie soundtrack, and laundry, if I can work up enough concern for personal hygene. I still have clean underwear, so the chances of that happening are quickly waning.