30 September 2009

I might have a bit of an old man crush on Mark Bittman. Don't tell him I don't get that excited about what he makes, though it tends to inspire mediocre meals, (there it is, rule number 1, respect, possibly broken), but yes, I'll go with it and sometimes arrive at nice simple meals by modification. Nothing bad ever happens with Mark Bittman in the house.
Current desktop image: "RUN FOR YOUR LIFE"

29 September 2009

Every so often I feel like a window shopper in my own life. As if really seizing upon something would be much too much. It's not bad, explicitly, it's difficult to figure out how to work moveable boundaries too. Experience shows I don't stay well when I tend to intense states such as these. I miss them.
Picked up some Anne Carson, an Oresteia, from the library. Anne Carson can talk about lettuce and I will love it. This one has transliterated screaming.

27 September 2009

I haven't been bored in years. It finally almost happened, but I'm gonna start doing something in 3, 2, ...

My powers of explication fail me often. My curiosity does not. I should not be so subject to falling in to ruts.

26 September 2009

The farmer's market today was very good - there were beets, chard, collard greens, honey and quince. I've been waiting forever to poach a quince.

25 September 2009

Cleaned under bed. Oh! Self-esteem! There you are!
I know I am feeling good today because I cleaned. Lack of cleaning is apparently my unintended signal that I can't take it. If anyone asks, it seems a massive carton of rice noodles topped with oodles of fish sauce did the trick. I am grossed out just thinking about all the goopy noodles. I am still full (from yesterday one pm).

22 September 2009

on stubbornness

Ok, so. It is occurring to me that I have adopted "psychotic" as a kind of identity category, and that may not be the best thing to do. For one, it is alienating, and I mean it to be so. One would have thought that I would have gotten past the need to do as much in the year that I spent reexamining my feelings towards my broken friendships, but I haven't. I lash out as my ability to empathize collapses to a tiny point. It can be a regressive, angry and inauthentic thing to do.

It may also be that I am depressed (I would never say this in the real world, not even to my psychiatrist), and being mysterious about one's feelings, even with cheerful phrasing, is its own sweet kind of identity. It gives me space, and freedom from too much interpretation. What also creates room is spilling one's guts. As much as I liked the good doctor, feeling flayed open at the whim of someone much more powerful can feel like an oddly fascinating code but is not a pleasant feeling, and some of that came out in twisted and possibly psychotic fashion over the summer.

For "vacation" I went to a horrible residential care type place where they decided it was vitally important for me to experience tardive dyskenisia. I broke out to go discuss a philosophy paper with a professor who knew of my situation and was kind enough to speak with me anyhow. I was afraid of his beard. I really, really wanted to be better, enough so that I was willing to overlook the basic fact of having compromised rational thought (thankfully not in such a way as to say very much). I was, apparently, sane enough to get away with refusing medication. The situation sounds like a disaster even to me.

I've been feeling too exhausted to regroup or even attempt very much but keep on resting up for tomorrow.
If one wants, one can book a room in the house where Nietzsche spent summers in the 80's.
One of my lecturers passed along a virulent strain of child plague. My remedies include

-manuka honey and rosemary with hot water
-green tea
-chicken soup (too tired to locate chicken thighs, so, lemongrass brought to a boil over medium heat with 1/2 boullion cube and some peppercorns, then adding 1 small nest tagliatelle, a bit of savoy cabbage, a beaten egg)

21 September 2009

I am looking forward to a very cathartic evening of television viewing as House hits the psych ward. In the hospital I would canvas my fellow patients to create favour for the shows I wanted to watch (House, Grey's Anatomy) and then enjoy then along with my evening snack (orange yogurt, the filling of an egg salad sandwich). YUM.

19 September 2009


via jblyth

I knitted a sock. I tried to take a picture of it to share my enthusiasm and then decided no, it was not more exciting than it sounds.

13 September 2009


Put my pajamas in the wash and they shrunk. My shorts are too short and my sleeves are shriveled up over my wrist bones. Not a good scene. Am doing a spider dance clawing at them in hopes of stretching out the shirt, at least.

10 September 2009

Is time rushing by very fast for you too? I come home, make a cup of tea, and suddenly it is dark and the cat is awake again. It's not even heroin tea, and there are no poppy filled pastries in accompaniment. My head hurts, can I say that? Also, I'm sorry I pissed Factory off, because if he would stop by once in a while I would say I would like to commission a postcard sized oil painting for twenty dollars canadian and start a craze among the many hundreds of his internet fans.

*That way he can play, sorry, bleed emotion and intellect onto the canvas, in lots of different colours in preparations for the masterpieces inside him to tear their ways out.

p.s. I am serious except when I am joking and I am not joking about desiring detritus

w solemnly intones sunday stories to her lichen babies

09 September 2009

"wonder drink"

I read about it on the internet so of course I had to try it when there was a $1.99 sale. Kombucha (oolong variety, cute little glass bottle) tastes much like drinking the bog - in the healthy way I feel when I am walking there, with a twinge of memory, no doubt, of an upbringing drinking scotch with my dad. Now I have an impulsive desire for a mushroom to live in my closet.

08 September 2009

I feel that I have been properly observant when I read Zulieka and identify at all. Her words motivate without her seeming to try.

07 September 2009

society for asshole perfectionists

Obviously this is an 'at large' members only type deal. If no time is ever quite right, brothers and sisters, your stars are aligned. Step right up and take off your hats.

Pay close attention and remember to stop and rewind. There will be no souvenir postcards as none of us can make anything good enough. Rorschachs can be made by the foot bath on your way out.

06 September 2009

sikth (via meegan and dz)

Today I was walking in the forest. Everyone knows I am a forest nymph and subsist on tiny blueberries, the scent of bog laurel, and water from a tiny stream drawn up through my feet. A storm was coming in and the trees were creaking.

04 September 2009


"Self, if you keep pulling this 'little shop of horrors' version of embodiment I am going to make you read about the mind-body problem. Alone. Do you know how crazy and impossible that will be?"

03 September 2009


"Self, if we're going to get any writing done you need to be wearing tighter pants."

01 September 2009


michel foucault circa 1983

Arguing with this reviewer, he reminds me of one of my more intimidating and widely published professors. The reviewer responds firstly, M. Foucault is difficult to understand and I didn't. FAIL.

psychotic language, 1964

in letters


I am happy. Happy happy happy. The sun shines out of my ass.