weak thesis.

my ecocrit class is teaching me a lot of things. a lot of very interesting things, the most important of which being
critical theory is so not my forte.


these days all i seem to do is make art and go to yoga.
it is so wonderful to have creative energy again.
i am nurturing it, much to the chagrin of my gpa, and
academia, i don't care.
tonight i was supposed to write an english paper, but i ate a pot cookie instead.
bad. cat.


joni knows

i want to knit you a sweater want to write you a love letter i want to make you feel better i want to make you feel free


the cherry blossoms are opening and there are buds on all the trees and the sun is out and spring is coming and even though reading week is almost over and i still have one paper to write i am going to spend the next two days partying in vancouver because the maltwood just hired me and the paper isn't due until next thursday and damn it, i can.
i am going to drink a lot of beer and smoke a lot of marijuana and hang out with a lot of lesbians and take a lot of photographs and maybe even buy some clothes so that when i come home and start my job as a curatorial assistant i will actually have something to wear.


chelsea is a sick little cat and it's lame.


it's coming.

- Did you have a hangover yesterday morning too?
- i didn't wake up with a hangover yesterday morning. i think that probably had something to do with the mass quantities of pasta i ate for dinner and the fact that i probably only took five swigs off that bottle and left you to contend with the rest. which makes your hangover pretty justified, if you ask me. 750ml of beer is a lot of beer. especially when it's called apocalypse.

the government of canada has started advertizing on the back of our grocery receipts. in bus shelters. why don't they just say it? why are the colours of their website cheerful blues and yellows? this feels like indoctrination and i don't like it.


ok, steve price.
you should save yourself the trouble and teach us grammar with schoolhouse rock.


so lorna crozier just sent me an email
and she signed it

chelsea loves lorna.


i needed to be in bed about five hours ago. the only things that will keep me alive this week are:
men's underwear
and i know that if i can last out the week, i can survive anything.
cholera, etcetera.

i was just eating a banana and now it's gone
it went too fast


gross. february is gross in so many ways i don't even know where to start.


the wind kept me up long hours last night. i thought my windows were going to implode from the pressure and send a trillion shards of glass ripping into my living room. i thought i could feel my house moving.

i have to go to bubby rose's for the challa buns i promised sarah i'd serve with dinner.

nine days until reading week.
these countdown days will be some of the most stressful ones of my year, but probably also, for different reasons, the most exciting.
there is much to suffer through, much to look forward to.
that's probably a best case scenario, considering.
the tarot keeps saying i need to find balance.

i think at the bakery i will buy myself breakfast.


you guys,
something exciting is happening.


i have done no homework in the last seventy-two hours.
weather permitted, so i spent the weekend outside, healing.
i had a lot of revelations and got a lot of sun and got rid of a lot of unneeded emotional residue.
i left town played in a forest went to a memorial came back went to the sea saw cherry blossoms watched a sunset bought tulips drank tea changed my calendar.
my life, right now, feels like the other side of The Tower:
disruption will bring enlightenment in its wake