love and love alike

my dear friend the incredibly helpful jay and i decided to both love this album together - the decemberists - the hazards of love. you should totally love it too. no really. do it. love it. it will make you happy in a calm relaxed way in which you realize the world is better for music having been made. everyone needs that in their lives.

just in case you are concerned about my music credentials after my last two guilty pleasure posts, i'm going to admit that you have every right to be concerned. but at least i'm admitting my little secret pleasures and opening myself up. by my logic that should make me more of an reliable source. jay on the other hand is just awesome and is my favorite boy to love things with. you can trust him. he's very tall (just to show off mostly) and we all know tall people hear things more clearly.... sigh. maybe that's why i like bad music. i'm practically a midget at 5'4" or 5'3.5" technically. i keep hoping i'll grow but 33 is right around the corner (or 28 for the 5th time) and i'm pretty sure there are no 33rd year growth spurts. although i would take one if i could get my hands on one.

anyway.... here is what you should love love love. besides yourself and of course jay and i.

the decemberists - annan water

the decemberists - the hazards of love 4

ever get that feeling...

ever get that feeling that you aren't such a great friend? ever get that pang in your chest when you realize that you haven't honoured someone you should have? ever wonder how you still have a friend in which you can reach emotional intimacy with in a matter of minutes regardless of how long it's been since you've spoken? ever wonder how when someone has a plate full of their own problems and pain and shitty stuff they still manage to have love and empathy and an open heart for the small shit you're currently sweating?



all i can say is i am a damn lucky girl to have a friend like jay. and so for him this is the song you must have on repeat in your life... because " I find the map and draw a straight line, Over rivers, farms, and state lines, The distance from 'A' to where you'd be, It's only finger-lengths that I see, I touch the place where I'd find your face, My finger in creases of distant dark places"

i'll just say aloud i love him more than crushed ice and i am grateful for the trust, respect and the love. i'm also grateful that he knows that i am imperfect but getting better everyday. i'll also say aloud that if i could be anywhere right now... i would be in massachusetts where we could sit under the dark sky and talk until dawn.

a playlist, a mood, a novel of sorts..

so the way it's been going lately i've been publishing a blog and a playlist a day. i'd like to make it a blog, a playlist and a picture at some point but seeing as i'm preparing for a move and transition i think the picture thing may have to wait awhile.... we'll see how things go. for now here is the playlist:

the strange thing about the play list is that not even i know whats going to be on it until i sit down to write and then whatever music feels right as i'm putting these words down is what ends up playing in the background. even if it seems like you don't like what is on there you should listen... just so you get the whole thing... you know the "thing"... the ambiance, the scene... the whatever the fuck i'm trying to create here besides a chronicle of my days. also sort of interesting to me as i'm working on this version (the third incarnation of my "blog") is that i no longer plan what i'll say during the day. i sit down and spend time and let it all flow... whatever comes to mind i talk about.

even when i think of what is here i'm a little weirded out... it's my words, my actions, my thoughts and all my shit on the internet... i don't know if you know but that's huge.
'pardon my french sir but it's a big ass' ... world. sometimes i wonder to myself if there is value to documenting the crazy shit that cycles in my head, my moods and my perspectives. i spend a lot of time analyzing, processing and thinking and it seems too big for me sometimes. i sometimes wonder who on earth will ever want to know how i made the decisions that i did by reading a day to day record of how i got there...

i thought perhaps that tonight instead of going on and on about whatever is in my head i would instead put the latest finished (sort of chapter) piece of what we are at this point referring to as a novel of sorts... i think one person may have already read this and so it will be disappointing to him but in fairness he disappointed me tonight with perhaps the most disturbing thing i've ever processed or seen in my life... my whole life... and i've seen some pretty fucked up shit. so for the rest of you who aren't bad bad bad friends i give you what is below...

perhaps before we get there we should note that this is just a portion of the chapter and the overall novel of sorts that is STILL unfinished because i'm lazy and stuck in my writing... a whole other topic... and it is NOT about me... and that you may like or not like what you read. that's fine. i'm interested in your opinion... maybe....

Chapter 7 ?
Part 1: "It seemed so ridiculous. There was no way I could keep a baby. Even knowing that I wasn’t ready for that responsibility I fantasized about running away and never speaking to him again. The sweet baby with his hair and eyes growing inside me. The child that we had created in a city full of sunlight and history. How I would raise a child alone – bravely – and in the end I would know I had done the right thing. That was the truth. I knew I was doing the wrong thing. I was sinning against the hope and the comfort I had found in him. I was taking the memory of Mac that had been given to me in the years after he left and sullying it with poor decision making. I was ashamed of who I had become.

I began to stay awake all night because I had nightmares of Mac not loving me anymore once he knew what I had done. I felt sure that if Mac was watching he would despise me. I was throwing away a glimmer of hope and a life that wasn’t mine to discard. Without the comfort of sleep I sat on the porch each night just to watch the dawn and make a list of all the things I had become; the list came down to a fairly concise summary. Liar, hypocrite, and failure. I recited those words to myself through all my other daily tasks, only broken by the interior monologue in which I would tell Finn that I didn’t care what he thought and I would choose instead to make myself happy.

The night before I was to pick up the prescription for RU486 I couldn’t stand to think of him, and yet I knew that at some point I would have to face him and talk to him. He hadn’t called and as I lay in bed I silently cursed him for telling me things that had given my hope, he had said he wouldn’t leave me that he would stand by me. I had chosen this because I knew it was best for him. I knew then that he wasn’t what I thought, and that I had made a mistake but it was too late to go back on my word now. I fell asleep for the last night with both hands on my belly. As I drifted off to sleep I cursed him and repeated my new mantra to myself – liar, hypocrite, and failure.

The morning was grey, as if it knew what was in store. I woke before the alarm and watched the minutes tick by with my hand on my abdomen. I had not prayed in years but I prayed now; asking God or Buddha or the Universe to secure a painless and easy death for my baby. I knew that once I got up there would be no saving myself or the baby that was innocent to an immature father and a cowardly mother. I asked for the strength to turn off my phone and never see him again, I asked for him to be struck dead, and I asked wordlessly for forgiveness for what I knew was the wrong decision.

I dressed slowly, waves of morning sickness washing over me and I prepared myself for the task that was ahead. I called him on my way, and his voice was filled with enthusiasm and relief; just the sound of his voice made my want to slit my wrists. I pictured it completely in my head. Turning my car around, walking up the stairs to my apartment. Taking out a knife and sitting in the claw foot bathtub fully dressed. I imagined pressing it deep into my right wrist first from the base of my palm all the way up to the middle of my forearm and then struggling to complete the same task on my left.

I silently begged for him to understand and relent, or for the strength to admit that I couldn’t go through with this horrible task, but neither came. I arrived at the clinic and forced my legs to carry me inside, at first I believed that I would pick up the prescription and never take it, instead I would disappear and do the right thing but the harsh florescent light and the bleak interior immediately dashed my bravery. The receptionist smiled and gave up the prescription in exchange for $425, I signed two pieces of paper with my hands shaking and turned and walked out."

Part 2: "I stumbled drug laden and semi-conscious into the kitchen and found a note.
“Gone to work. Be back tonight. Stay away from sharp objects, whiskey and pills.”
I would have laughed at his humour if I hadn’t felt dead inside. I would have smiled at the flippant sarcasm if I didn’t think it was somewhat true. He really didn’t want for me to kill myself at work. He hadn’t beaten around the bush or tried to cover up his request.
I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror for the first time in a long time. I saw my hair dull and tangled in a halo of frizzy wisps around my face. I saw the dark circles around my eyes and the empty shine in my eyes. I saw for the first time what a baby killer looked like. I began to weep softly at first and then cry harder as the emotion found an outlet. I held onto the corner of the sink and leaned in close the shiny cold surface of the mirror to see if I could find any trace of Mac inside me.
I only saw myself and my current situation. I only saw a coward and then in a sudden moment my breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I felt as if my lungs were on fire and my heart was pounding so hard that it would impale itself on my ribs. Panic rushed into every part of me. It ran to all my limbs and I was completely terrified. Every last part of Mac was dead. He was gone for sure now. I had left him when I was a teen, buried him, found him again in another man, been left and then killed him again with misdirected hope. I had been chasing a person to love me and that I would honour my whole life. I had been looking for a solid trust and love for longer than I could remember and had thrown a perfect love away in exchange for the hope that Finn would love me. A tit for a tat. A trade. A fucking misguided sick idea of what it would take for someone to stop and notice me.
I thought of my father. How he wouldn’t be surprised if he saw me here and knew everything. How he would laugh and enjoy this moment of my complete failure. I thought of Mac and how he would be so sadly and completely disappointed and ashamed of me. How he would look at the ground and then look at me in disgust at this moment of losing myself. I thought of Finn and how he was so pleased with my choice and how he had never loved me. How he would never call me again and was relieved that the worst was over. I realized that I had disappointed myself and the only man I had ever loved and made two other men happy.
The world turned for a second. It went dark around the edges and bright white in the middle. Only my eyes were visible and white spots danced in my line of vision. Without warning there was a loud crack. Stiff sharp pain filled my right fist. The mirror fell in long jagged pieces into the sink and onto the floor. I looked at my knuckles and at the silver glinting piece shoved in between the second and third fingers. I watched maroon velvet liquid well up and then run down both fingers into the sink. When it touched the white cold porcelain the colour changed to a softer red. The small rivers looked like tears dripping from my hand into the drain. I reached over and pulled out the shard with my left hand. The minute it was released from its comfortable nest small spurts flowed more quickly into the sink. I grabbed one of my towels and wrapped it around my hand and walked slowly back to bed.
I woke and it was dark. I smelled the heavy acrid aroma of cigarette smoke and followed it out to the porch. Colin looked up from his Physics book.
“I thought I said stay away from sharp objects.”
“You did. I don’t fucking listen.”
Colin didn’t say anything. Instead he grasped my left hand; the one without dried blood and a gash in it. We sat there quietly until the moon rose high into the sky and the stars danced into the tree tops."

this is important

okay the morning playlist is going out the window in light of a new development... i fucking love the band 'the ballet'. it's serious. and big tall jay (formerly of the mfj psuedonym) loves them too... and he's seriously a giant and has a huge mother so that's a lot of love.

i've listened to their track like six times

awesomely sweet track - in my head

then i looked at their myspace page again

sissypopband - that's what THEY said not me!! and i LOVE it.

and read it all and looked through their stuff while streaming the audio there. then i watched this awesome video and coveted the guy's guitar strap and wanted to ask them all out to ice cream. and not just any ice cream but like 31 flavours and i would totally pay and we could hold hands - all of us - not in a weird uncomfortable palm to palm stiff 4 finger and separate thumb against 4 finger and separate thumb kinda way but in the comfortable loose fingers splayed and loosely knit together kind of way.



my advice to you is to listen to everything you can, watch the video, love them with me and then buy their album immediately... fucking immediately. it would be silly not to... just simply silly.

buy an amazing album here