I know what is there

I know the love


In your chest

A fist

Ready to unclench 

1711 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
this must be the place

i am sitting on the exit doorstep

of my roof

smoking a cigarette

talking to you

feeling you

can you hear me, strange man?

i am speaking to you through this night

staring at the


clouds heavy

with the reflection


grey city lights.

this night is cold and glossy

twinkling and serene

and i'm remembering

all those

other nights

speaking to you from a distance in the dark

the nights since the beginning of my life

and now

you're a stranger no longer

i know those green eyes

and that tenderness running

its fingers 

on my thigh

the warm voice of home

the still silence

standing with you on your

back porch 

smoking cigarettes

watching the rain

the snow

and soon the sun will

shine strongly again

and the cats will come

out from hiding

they'll wander, strut in the

back alley and parking lots

and we'll be 

there together



2135 hit(s) (3 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
the last cold step

this will be the last


on the staircase

of your apartment building

arms around knees


chipping salmon-colored walls

leaning on the black

shining railing

i've gotten closer

with this railing

than i ever did

with you

i've familiarized myself

with this cold step

the mornings after

makeup dripping

on my lap and hands

my hair spilling in tangled dreads

my body and soul worn inside out

like dirty socks

from not being able

to say 

i love you


this cold step

it and i

shared our moments


987 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
it never stopped time

it wasn't you


all this time, these months, close to a year

neither of us able to make it

through to the other

we tried, dear

it wasn't me

and it couldn't have been you


i believed i was too crazy for you

too much to handle

not in the ways i behaved

but simply how my mind

was arranged


i wasn't trouble, but troubled

i didn't want you to see

any of it


beyond what i felt


recognized in me

that night in late october

beautifully spent

in a strangers' shameless


the wet counter of the dingy bar and city lights shining on dark bay windows

moving from the park bench to the cold grass

it moving fast

from the first cradle in your arms and

to the last honest moment with you


i held back from then on

because i couldn't bring myself


unable to reveal who i was


it wasn't you i was meant to go there with


pages of ask the dust

sweep over me

to the place

of arturo's drunken night

with camilla

he said some beautiful things


but she didn't hear them

and it didn't matter

because he said them anyway

and they weren't for her

or else

she would have heard


he spoke from some inner whispers


with her


because of her


but they weren't for her

or else 

she would have heard


Chris, it wasn't you

though i loved you (and still do)


i reveal myself

to me only

and keep going

to show the one


the love i really am



284 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
my love is black and wet

the days with you

are long


velvet carpets

rolled out for



because i came

into existence

for you

because i am

as i am

for you to have

because you saw me

realised me

because you know me

are the only one

who does

because it is you

who conjured me

because you love me



do not know

the color of my eyes



you awake

in the early morning

around 7 a.m


move closer

pull me in

wrap an arm around me

use the other

to caress the skin

of my neck


upper back


and for the shortest

moment i can suspend

the reality of

what we are

over me

replace it

with a warm caramelized



until your running fingers

take speed


and bring me back

to the

place and thing

i exist for you


hit me

slap me

i love you


the only one who can

come closer

hold me

be soft


the night rolls closer now

brutalize me

from behind

contort my body

and take me

my fat thighs

spilling on each side

pull my hair

pull me

closer to you

don't keep me so far

from your body

i hate you

i hate you more

than the devil can burn


hit me


tell me again

all those nice things

you said

at the bar

after i confessed

i was crazy about you


tell me again

as i hold you against the

door of my bedroom


and once you're through telling


i will jump on the bed

up and down

several times

like a child

like a monkey

like a lunatic


because for a night

people can be really happy

for one night

it happens

people will feel

the need to jump on a bed


and not care about

waking the

downstairs neighbour


because it's just one night

really, the only

and everything that

happened before

was leading up to




197 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
my love is a jumping monkey



under grey-blue clouds

the lazy herd

moving slowly

above the crows



for life

for death


my feet crack the salt and pebbles

below me and i may

slip on

the milky ice

and hurt myself

on exposed pavement

i may slip for you

and show you

something real


spring time


because i know


that the trees

never died

nude and bold

they bear though

they persevered


as will i, dreaming of

the green


the fullness


silent heat of

your body



i'm missing the

flies circling

the streetlight

i'm missing the

beads on my


the orange

spills of sun

on leaves

i'm missing

the songs of

cicadas and


and the dusty

horizon of the

city, seen on

the bridge over

the freeway


the satin of petals

have been forgotten

watermelon waits

to quench

and i pass

right by that too


i'm missing out

on the wonders

not somewhere

but everywhere

life is begging

and i trudge



the asking cup


i see nothing

am unaffected

by all

i turn inwards

the mind numb

to senses


the heart


one thing


i am missing you



after the jukebox


Bruce Springsteen

we walked

in the dark

taverned lights

pass the pool tables

back to our barstools

how I turned

to look at you

and asked

"where did you come from?"


i remember you


on my roof

under the clouds

with bullet holes

shot through them

how i put my


under my head

and stared

above at the sky

and i felt you

from the peripherals

and you stole

the sight of me

and i remember


meaning something

to you then


remember when

you called me a beauty

and asked me to

go gently


remember the sunsets

the evening in may

with the leaving sun

crying on

factories and abandoned buildings

all around us


sparking wine and menthol cigarettes

the oratory

as a back-drop

to your stunning face


i remember the moons

they were charted to the nights

with you


i remember every second

i lived


the first

night i spent with you


but mostly,

i remember you

from before

i knew you

135 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
drunk, lonely and probably smelly
Listening to: streets of fire- bruce springsteen

i'm not normal, i'm not normal, i'm not normal, i'm not normal, i'm not normal.

even as i write this and repeat it over and over as a mantra in my head, it feels empty. like a prayer designed to comfort the mind and warm my cold heart. i'm so full of it, drunk and ready to rip myself apart. 


lover, i'm winding the string of the rod one last time. i'm tired of waiting. fishing is stupid, but i'm desperate. 

pretending i have anything of worth to say. see all these notebooks! hidden in them is true prolificacy. see these boys who want me, displayed on my wall like trophies, but i never touch them.

i am not normal, i am not normal. i never was. but damn am i empty.  

471 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

for the times spent in my parents' basement, typing, fingers without circulated blood. this is for the teenager and her way to go. 

dear diary, dear diary. 

where do i start? 

it's been a few years since i last kept an honest, open or direct relationship with you. i found solace in my dirty, stained notebooks instead. on paper, ink covered. tired and alone in the cafes. 

and yet here i am, still me. fears, insecurities, vices holding fast to my soul. or, at other times, shed off like an animal's coat in preparation for the new season. i am still me, always.

nostalgic tonight. drinking strong chamomile, this music floats and allows me to move freely above time and its limitations. van sings it, and the melody is tranquil and almost meditative but his voice won't let you go, pulls you back from your drift. it's like entering an emotional dream. 

my whole life has been an audition for a role i never cared for, trying to act an age i never felt inside. the truth is i once was a child who awoke one morning acutely aware of everything that was wrong with the world and humanity. i woke up old, as if i had already experienced a lifetime without having gone through the motions. i had been, up to this point, trying to fight that reality. sad about being inherently sad. feeling my depressive emotions were warranted for a war veteran alone, i kept tabs and observed the world. writing down notes on what it is to be like others. how does a girl act? how does a teenager behave? now, replay.

because of this, i can't help but feel a little sick when i come back here. the voice of this diary was never really me, but a desperate projection of what i thought i ought to be. yet my fight and denial against who i really was is so evident in these entries, it holds just as much significance to the overall story. 

this place is actually like a ghost town. aside from the fact that it's deserted and none of my old cyber friends write here anymore, it's trapped in time. like an abondoned building which will not be torn down or renovated. keeping haunting spirits confined to this small place, in the same self-form before their death. i mean, i can't change some of my preferences, i am stuck with a lot of my old settings but i am still allowed the liberty of moving forward with a new entry. like a ghost trying to find some purpose in its movements.

i don't know where i am going with this. i am jetlagged, thinking of my past, awake at odd hours of the day and in a state of contentment. i've long ago accepted my own defeat, and have been basking in the liberation of that. once you stop ignoring the good fight and understand that you cannot control your win, then you are able to truly experience moments of genuine and pure joy.

i'm not saying to be attached to pain and misery, let go of it, but in the process understand that it is beyond inevitable but actually necessary. it brings you closer to what is real and counts.

i will never win, but i can experience tastes of victory while trying. and it's all worth it.

250 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
June 2012

here is I



the difference


love and


for validation

need to be desired



I am dry of desire

other than my

crave for you

and your touch and


and those eyes

indecisive about

their own fucking



I am out of words, but

feelings are here

they just sound wrong

out loud, on


in my head

they make me sick.


I am dry and sick

and afraid of

loving you and of

needing you to love me

and of counting

the ways

you do.

201 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
As The Sparrow

".. I am old when it is fashionable to be

young; I cry when it is fashionable to laugh.." 

466 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Now that I've started

It arrived on the doorstep this morning.


My dirty laundry

spilling out of your

gym bag,

reeking of 

tobacco ash


My body and mind have been

sorting through it

as a team


colors, darks, whites.

While my heart runs

back to those

apartment nights.


And I taste the cigarettes

in the kitchen frying pasta

in the bathtub 

in the bedroom with 

the fan blowing

ashes sprinkled on

velour, on skin,

in the beer,

in the ashtrays that

made this laundry so



I taste the cigarettes and

I indulge in the flavors 

of nostalgia

until I remember the

other girl and

know for certain

you must have shared

cigarettes with her



My dirty laundry laying

witness on the floor.


I taste the cigarettes

and I wonder how I could

put this defeat

into words instead 

of tears.


This is the one 

that enters the big book

and I'm choking 

up, unable to say

anything worth

more than a dime

anything worth more

than a shrug

from you.


Can you understand?

I am deprived of words,

I am drained.

I cannot

bring it or

give it



There's nothing left

to bite into.


I let go of it 

a few miles back

it weighed me down

It hurt me, was no good 

to me.


I cannot write that beautiful

poem. No words

of mine could

serve me 



But if you want a taste,

(now that I've started)

I would ask you to close

your eyes and

think of your one

truest lover

lying in front of you


smoking cigarettes

with another.

86 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
My words have turned stale

22 going on 80

I feel like a war veteran

with a missing limb.



138 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
The Body

i can taste

vodka, beer



the candy

it's moving up and down

my throat

it's moving

inside me.

the wash and spin

cycle of my stomach


my head is floating

somewhere above me

and although i've showered

i still smell like

an ashtray

i want to vomit

and shit

and piss

and bleed

expell all bodily fluids


i want to be sucked dry,

suck the soul

deflate me


i'm giving up


you win 

191 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
I am angry

I am angry. You found a fucking rebound and stuck with her against your better judgment. I am angry that I'm choosing to deal with you, with this, in such a way. That I have to be the strong one, and take the fucking high road. The harder road, not one that is smoothly paved before me. I hate that I refuse to get distracted and instead chose to face this. I hate dealing with my pain. Everyday. I hurt and I'm not running away from it. I hurt and I'm alone in this dwelling because no one ever chooses to deal with things the right way.

Why can't I get a fucking break? From me? From my god damn better judgment. Why can't I fuck every guy I want. Till I'm numb, until I'm dead inside. Why can't I use anyone? Pretend and fake affection. Play interested. 

I think I'm better than everyone else.

I think I'm better than you and I feel guilt because of that. And I hate myself for that.

I'm angry that you found a rebound and that she meant nothing. I'm angry you had to be weak. I wish I could be weak and give myself a god damn fucking break.

I wish I drank myself to death.

I think I'm better than everyone else and therefore know I can never love.

I understand the permanence of everything last night. It's over. I can never see you again, because when I do all I want to be is bad. To have what I cannot have. We could never be, and every time I see you, I convince myself otherwise.

The world does it the easy, escapist way and I wish for one night I could be bad. I'm dying to get it out of my system.

I hate that you don't cry and that your sadness manifests itself through anxiety instead of full blown depression. My eyes are swollen. I broke three picture frames, punched the walls 'till my fingers bled. And you're fucking a dumb fat slut.

I hate how I broke up with you, and I am the one suffering. I am wallowing, drowning in some muddy pit.

But most of all, I hate that you weren't the one for me, and you still believe I was. Marriage and true love. I hate how you still keep a picture of me in your car, and when it fell through a vent, you begged your mom to help you break the car apart so you may find it. And you found it. And it's back in its safe place.

I have a picture of you too. To look at it is torture. To rant this way is torture. But I am dealing with it. The right way. The "strong" way, whatever that fucking means.

What else is there left to do? I cannot be any other way.

I am real. I am here. I am hurt today.

And if one more fucking person tells me time heals all wounds, I may become physically aggressive. 

104 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
July 13, 2013
Listening to: the ronettes- be my baby

Yesterday, I was sitting outside of a cafe and I looked up at the sky and the clouds were mauve and pink and orange. And I dared anyone to say that the world wasn't beautiful. I was in love with life, the moment. Time suspended.

Today, I saw you, we spoke, we hugged and I didn't tell you how badly I wanted to caress you, make love to you. When you left, I punched the walls until my fingers bled. I cried. I wished I was dead. 


I don't know how this works, I don't whose dirty trick this is. It torments me then provides me with bliss. Or vice versa. This life, with me feeling things so intensely. Always. Those clouds, they are the reason my knuckles are stained with blood. I love too intensely. I love you and now you are no longer. You are gone. I can never see you again because what we had was too beautiful for me to resist. To not jump right in. I can't help it. Do you see? That all I can ever have are memories of you, and not you.  


Yesterday, I dared anyone to say that the world wasn't beautiful. 

192 hit(s) (4 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
His sweater
Listening to: Dream Lover- Bobby Darin
Feeling: full

I'm wearing his sweater.

he gave it to me

but he's not here

he's gone.

no trace of him to be found

and I'm sitting alone

with nothing to give

with nothing to offer

to him. he was going

to teach me how to share

to be open and

share myself

but I'm not the selfless

type. I live alone

in my bedroom

in my head and to share a minute

a phonecall

a conversation

is to ask too much of me.

To spare love

beyond the love I have for my mind

and self is to ask too much

of me. So here

I am

alone once again

with nothing to offer

but this pitiful poem.

170 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
I am

listening to elliott smith

drinking black coffee

smoking my last pall mall

building a bookshelf unit

building courage

building a stronger back bone



believing in that way

two eyes can meet

another two.


i am believing

in love and all

its greatness.


453 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Country side

I lit my cigarette and heard the crackling of tobacco and burning paper as I dragged, dragged, dragged. I thought of life in the hawain pacific, or in alaska. I thought of life on a boat or in the altitudes of a mountain top. I thought of life. Here, now. Everthing is dimly lit out here, at this hour. Shadows are clearly outlined, the world is dark, cut-out shapes. The bicycle resting on the fence, the stop sign, the pine trees that roof me. Little humble abodes, no bigger than summer cottages are houses! Lived in, worn out to the most comfortable and safe beauties. The grass is wet, I feel it below my feet. The breeze only brushes through my damp toes. There are stars here. The constellations do not hide, they present themselves loudly. I see the moon, behind a dark oak tree with its nude branches. The moon is full aside from a missing piece taken from its upper right side. It was me. I bit the moon. I was starving for it, I ripped into it and was satisfied with a single taste. Everything is silent beside my exhalation of smoke. Pffhooo. Now I hear a train. I heard the train rumbling on its tracks. I sense the vibrations, a soothing serenade. I look for it in the distance. The horizon is purple-pink, despite the time of night. It is still alive! As am I. Today is not over. It is never done. This cannot be measured in time. I close my eyes, I am light headed. Everything is so intensely black. I flick the cigarette dead and wonder, how this can all be mine for now, forever. 

243 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
I'm gross sometimes

most of the times.

Trying very hard to keep my mind away from the seductions of security,

but shine that ring towards me, pretty boy,

and I'll reconsider everything.


I WILL FOREVER LIVE IN BAD FAITH. And I've accepted that instead of challenging it. Ignorance that knew better.

291 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Even after so many years, I can safely say that

I don't miss him very much. He became a zombie towards the end."

" In what way?"

" In that he enjoyed to eat human flesh and suck brain. He preferred genius brain, and you know, he really couldn't resist me. He tried to control his cravings, but one morning I woke up to find him chewing on my left ear, working his way up and about to carve into my temple. That's when I decided it was probably best to part ways." 

601 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
This grave is chilly

 A little girl runs a stick through a rib cage on the ground. The other bones are missing. A structure that was once designed to protect vital human organs is reduced to a play thing. That is death. Hearing the echoing sound waves of a child's action through out the whole night. That is knowing my mortality.

(That might sound dramatic, but today I bit my tongue. Later on, having forgotten about my injury, I noticed the dull throbbing on the left side of my palette and believed I was having a fatal allergic reaction to a food I consumed earlier in my day.)

616 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Blood love

Although my reclaimed possessions are many,

a garbage bag filled with

blood-stained and dirt clothes

tickles my nerve.

This is where I get


I am asking

for a reimbursement.

Can you tell me where those emotions I invested in,

yes, invested, where did they go?

The effect of impulsive, irrational love is 

comparable to post rollercoaster nausea.

And, here, I calculated everything so meticulously,

expecting profitable interest

but am only left with blank eyes and

a hanging mouth.


264 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  


are stored, sometimes burrowed,

only to be used, to my advantage,

as bookmarks,

as accurate reference points, reliable

proof for a pointing finger 

game. And although

nostalgia can be so refreshing,

I never took pleasure in reality

(past or present)

much preferring to conjure

and hide behind a glass bubble.

However, I walked today.

The concrete beneath my immobilized

toes felt real and in response

my shoulders hunched in humble


I remember we walked on that

street two years prior.

For scenery, you said

And honestly, what lovely scenery.

We were big kids then. Believing we deserved

beauty in the city.

But, today, I still hide

behind a glass bubble hoping the

memory of you doesn't invade my 




553 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Story of my life

I got tired looking for the right word and fell asleep in the process. 

414 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

I wonder how I would feel if I wrote everytime I told myself I would. I'm sure my portfolio will not be complete by march.


I don't know what I should have for breakfast today.


217 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Dear, we are too old for these silly hand games.


But I want to touch it.

232 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  


"Be regular and orderly in your life so that you may be violent and original in your work."
156 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: the mamas and the papas

I've gathered all my notebooks from the past two and a half years. 10 in total, none of them are filled completely.

Bo Diddley's best 15 hits, 3 cups of coffee, too many cigarettes to count and a slice of toast with jam later and I'm still not done reading everything. The rain taps on the skylight in the kitchen and noon rolls into the evening.


Tell them I'm not ready to leave.

223 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
I can smell
Listening to: m.i.a

oranges and vegetable curry and it's very nice. I've been sitting here a while and I've been thinking, and now I notice the whole balcony sprinkled with tiny yellow leaves.


I wish things were kindergarten simple, and I could like you because we both chose the same coloring crayon out of a box. I'm turning twenty in a few days, and I feel like I've already passed my limit when it comes to the amount of resentment and bitterness I've directed inwardly. I do not have the energy for me or you, but I cannot let this go.


So let's color.





273 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Made of

I am tired and hungry. Always tired and hungry say the dark bags and fat knees.

Hm, I do not know how I feel anymore. It's apathy but not boredom. It's wired but not awake. It's repetitive but not monotonous. It's what good boys and girls strive for. A comfortable routine.


It's all about the next distractions, and the best ones, this week, are food and sleep.

I really wish it were booze, but my bank account forbids that.




151 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

I wish I had something to say.

But I do! But I do!


My fingers are lazy and my mind is too scared to go there.

I guess.

163 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
I hope you got fat

 'Cause if you got really fat, fat, fat

you just might want to see me come back.

183 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: amy winehouse

There is so much I could do.

Instead, I'm enjoying this ride. A downward spiral.


You know, I could just copy and paste old entries from now on and they will probably be relevant.



Oh yes, and that asshole told me everything. Everything. I didn't even ask and that makes me laugh out loud.




I am jobless, couldn't care for school and bar hopping way too often. The number of emotional breakdowns have tripled in the past three weeks.

(Last month I was in paradise, take me back, oh, please.)

This is autumn of 2008 all over again. HAHAHAHA.


Except this time I am living vicariously through Ola's flirting.

243 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

I need to acknowledge that fine line between carefree and happy.

Petals of blue orchids are scattered on the surface of my bureau and on the floor around it. The plant is slouching now. The last gift of a distant love. Paint brushes soak in the same mucky water four days later. Clothes overflow in the laundry basket. Odors never escape these four walls. And a sealed box of condoms purchased a month ago, hides in a drawer and proves how cautious I really am. Will I be late? Perhaps.

I care. Clearly.

I am happy.

252 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Sometimes, when I read old private entries I am embarassed for the person I used to be, ashamed of the mentality and beliefs she had.

But then I remember her grandma whispering stories about the devil impatiently waiting for her in hell (because teenage girls have a one way ticket to hell) and I forgive her.


I am not sure if I want to forget her.

140 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Dear Father
Listening to: violent femmes

I have an appointment with a priest.

Somewhere in between crying in the closet over my fear of becoming a housewife and binge eating banana bread, my mother convinced me to talk to her priest friend and I agreed.

171 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Emotional Baggage (short sentences, no structure)

I wrote an entry and it did not save. I am leaving in two days. I am not excited. I have not eaten in three. Blair. Casey and Spencer. DJ boy loves me and it frustrates me. I am intoxicated and alone. Kenny is mean and Mark does not remember me. Little things like this shouldn't bother me. I probably would not have all the guy friends that I have now if I was single, despite getting along better with them than girls. My boyfriend is wasting away, I don't know where he is. The core/base of who I thought I was has been completely shattered. It is terrifying to realise how much one preson helps define you. It makes me feel very dependant. I am always and still scared of dying. There is no magic, screw that expression. Fuck Montreal, but never.

659 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Memento mori (short)

[This explains it. The fetal position and the calls begging you to come over, the splurging at the pharmacy. The crumbs down my shirt, the to-do lists and the television show marathons.]



I sat down next to an old woman on the city bus. Her face was a white wrinkled pillowcase smeared with pastel-colored cake icing. She didn't want to die and neither do I. 

243 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Irresistible womanly charm

This is me sinking between the cushions of the couch. Dehydrated, sucking on ice cubes that were moments ago swimming in a sugar carbonated alcohol solution. Out of tampons and listening to rich girl by hall and oates on repeat. Swollen feet, probably stinky too.

Me, I am in a good place.

265 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Vanity, vulnerability and vomit

I do not understand the neediness of people.

230 hit(s) (5 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
End of semester syndome (part two)

I do not want to work on this poetry assignment. The side-effects, overflow of caffeine, have kicked in. Zapping neurotransmitters back into action. High-powered electrical shocks serving as memos. A punishment for ill habits, procrastination and a poor diet. Hello? You were expected earlier. I have no faith left in you! I have been waiting, patiently, for your high and now, you decide to awaken my senses, wooly caterpillars crawling down my spinal cord (the opposite of a fuzzy feeling), my heart swollen and my lungs deflated from the inhalation of tobacco smoke. It is too late, I have raised my arms high in surrender.


Suck you.

World, compose and deliver me a beautiful sestina. Preferably, via e-mail.

320 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

I lack the confidence, courage and energy to fight for it. And it's something I hold dear to me, but I'd rather live in a permanent state of clutter than put any effort in form and structure.

(You cannot escape from the common herd because of a silly talent. Who do you think you are?

Over possessed by bitterness and envy, I'll call it inessential, anyway. All I have is the desperate hope it will burden you one day.


My green eye is twitching frantically.)

In my mind, a deeply rooted, sane belief says it is not possible for a product of such beauty to burden. Fuck.

242 hit(s) (5 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
I need to tell you

that I am terrified of the dark. A (close to) twenty year-old woman (ha),

finds slumber in bright lights because she can never know

what might be hidden in


(creepy crawlers and slimers)

Let us not question the depth of a room when it is left unlit.

And so, I always fall asleep with the lights on,

until a man comes into my room and switches them off,

lies down.

His bare body,

my favorite source of heat.

I turn and examine his face, a strong jaw line that I follow with my finger (stubble never makes the ride dull) 

to his chin,

and move north to his lips. Until I resist all temptation to kiss him and wake him.

(I need to tell you

that I only fall in love in the dark.) 


210 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
I'd like to remove my uterus

I had a whole list of entries I wanted to finally type up, but I didn't. I do not want to anymore, but I'll write in here anyway because they say I need discipline. I am a bit tipsy, bought a few drinks at the mexican restaurant and flirted with the bartender with the ear spacers. That was nice, getting my period midway my supper date with vero and emilie was not. I went home because the cramps were unbearable. I took an extra strength advil, and Ryan yelled because I  was not exactly sober. That is how his mother commited suicide and I am behaving very irresponsibly, was his argument.  I hate how uses this incident to exaggerate a current situation. I was not being very sympathetic, and I went to bed but couldn't sleep, and now I am here and he is playing video games.

221 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
A writer of situational comedies

she says, where is this going?

and i don't say anything, 'cause nothing is ever going.

you write character psychology.

true, because nothing i ever do in life is plot driven. i sit and observe. i don't expect great big bumps in the road (despite me craving them), but if they happen, they happen. all i have is my mind and it's with me all the time and it's my friend and my enemy. my rise, my fall and that's all i know, and all i'll ever know. (so suck it, louise)...

but i didn't say that.

i nodded my head, for her, i wrote something horribly unfunny, and that's how I came to write a situational comedy. i sold it for millions, so my road is smoothly paved, smoothly ridden. it's all about the security and the green, you know.

and now, my mind fries a bit more everytime i sit on that lazy boy, and i laugh when they tell me to, i do it all with empty joy, but who cares because I have a  women play toy, and she comes with an extra feature! she cooks and cleans and sucks my balls when i need her.

240 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
June 21st- August 19

Greece, for real.



204 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Gross metaphors

Do you know those god damn butterflies everyone gets? The ones that magically come into existence and flutter obnoxiously in your stomach to warn you of a soon-to-come moment of discomfort. Well, I get them too but a bit differently. Instead of confining them to my stomach, my body lets them wander. They are free to impair my breathing while they journey up my esophagus. They choke me as they take their time and stall in my pharynx. With all the effort in me, I force them, spit them out. One by one, hoping nothing gets caught in my teeth. Until my feet are hidden under a blanket of bile-covered, twitching insects. Their dying, pleading screeches, all I hear for days.

280 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

I feel that, after seven years of therapy, I should be the only one winning when it comes to mind games. So try me, bitch.

284 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Death on the stairs
Listening to: the libertines-tomblands

My feet are swollen. My body is kind of falling apart. I think I'm going to write a strory about Murph, or Shaggers, or Citron, or the crackhead at Guy-Concordia metro. Not tonight and probably not tomorrow. I am going to bed.

This entry sucks, but I am trying to get back into the habit of writing in here.

234 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Nothing at the top but a bucket and a mop

I should write in here more. My visits to this site should be more frequent. I have gotten out of the habit of scribbling/typing every miniscule detail of my life. The obsession has passed and has been replaced with indifference. Whether this is good or bad depends on my day. I have gotten used to living with a perma-mental cluster. This is probably the reason I am behind in my creative writing workshops. I just don't give a shit, and don't care about the stories I spin or the words I clumsily form sentences with. But I am trying, I sigh, and keep going. Forty hours of work, 25 hours of school, 8 hours of homework and 8 hours of drunken carefree stupor doesn't leave much room for eat and sleep. (And I even walk to school and to both my jobs). And somehow I'm doing all this. Maintaining healthy relationships with my parents, siblings, friends and boyfriend. My body is angry, and I'm in a constant state of recharge. And until I run out, I'll continue, coffee or redbull in hand.

But, honestly, I am waiting for a furious crash.

224 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Tentative summer schedule

june 1st- amsterdam

june 5th- train to nothern italy

june 5th- 22nd- milan, venice, bologna and rome

june 23rd (fly or ferry to greece)

june 27th- andre's wedding in crete.

hang around in crete until the end of july.



then in august we're driving down to maine and invading laurence's summer cottage.



probably none of this will work out as such.

247 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
The cat ate them

Those flowers didn't last very long.




214 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: the beatles- if i fell

I believe a real entry is overdue. I know because I feel a tantrum and a breakdown coming.

Full circle, full circle, full circle.

Lord, I don't know where to begin, mostly because there isn't a starting. (It's a fucking circle).

On Tuesday, my English teacher thought it would be appropriate to dedicate her lecture time to the subject of existantialism and the feelings of insignificance people in the western world usually experience. Whatever, right? But she then proceeded to express her views on the silliness of fearing death and blah, blah, blah, ..... I would have stabbed her if I wasn't choking on the oxygen I was desperately trying to inhale. God damn, the nerves of this woman. How dare she puncture my wonderful bubble of ignorance and wake me up from my sweet alcohol haze. I DO NOT KNOW WHY I AM HORRIFIED OF DEATH, but I am. For the longest time I was basking in the glorious belief that I was, indeed, immortal and invincible! Now, I am back to being reality's little bitch. Smacks here and there.

In other news, getting a job at a pub was probably the best and worst idea I ever had. My wage is already gone before payday, but, hey, staff prices. Also, I've been kind of a slut. Only mentally, though. Which, I guess, is the worst. Actually, no. I take that back. How is that the worst? I'm a fucking saint in comparison to some of the sleaze I've seen come in. I don't know. I think I'm lonely. I think I'm upset because I am very socially retarded and awkward, and I try to make up for it by being flirtacious when I am drunk.

I sound desperate and pathetic, so I am going to stop writing because this is so far away from what I would consider a "real" entry. I am going to binge eat peanut M&M's instead.

So in conclusion, hooray for alcoholism, whorish behaviour and bulimia!

310 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Possible Eastern European trip with Hannah, Lawrence and Scott. You! Care to join?

218 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Didn't anybody see?
Listening to: dance hall- modest mouse

-W-would you like m-m-me to tell you why they call me Shaggers?


- It's quite the elaborate sto-to-tory.

-May I shoot a guess at you?

-Ok, I su-su-suppose, but it's quite a long and complicated reason.

-Is it because you have shagged many women?

- Oh, oh, oh, y-y-yes. That's it, I suppose. Yes, I was qui-quite charming. I still am. Even n-n-now, yes.


Shaggers is a sixty year old mechanical engineer who works as a dishwasher at a pub. He has his valid reasons for his current work position and he lets me in on his secret.

And they are not excuses! he says, to reassure himself rather than to convince me. And besides, the beer discounts and lady clientele are worth it. Now, what more can you need in this world, he has the equation to a content life. A good lay and a few pints of guinness. Shouldn't that suffice? For Shaggers, it does. He repeats that three times, and I wonder how many more times he is merry-go-rounding the words in his mind. I can see it in the expression he wears that the man is completely harmless.

He sings the first line of a Beatle's song without melody and rises from his chair. He knocks his pint onto my dress, and comes close to crying from his appologies, but I do not mind because I am stuck and confused and want to know why she came in through the bathroom window.

397 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Jasper, Meher Baba, Final destination: Egypt

This time, I guess, I saw it coming. It still stings a bit. But I'm okay. I knew I didn't have the courage to budge but I feel the idea growing and a forward movement in process. I'm more perspective and confident now. I know what I need exactly. I'm not ready yet. I still have sore ankles, a purse that smells too much of rum, those accumulating bills and a good boy who needs tending.


vague. vague. vague. yes. yes. yes

221 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Mental cheat

He is an English graduate but teaches French and Science in highschool. Lasalle Community Comprehensive. The bad LCC, not the one where Westmount residents send their children. It's full of delinquents and trash talkers and stabbings and everything else that is wonderful. But it's okay, because he's young and they like him. I like him, too. His obnoxious friend told me he liked me as well, which I kind of figured at that point. I guess it will not go anywhere. I'm intimidated by his age (which I don't actually know, but must be 25 or older, no?) Also, things are complicated with my boyfriendish.


But he's really awkward and shy and dorky. He wears sweater vests. I'm finding it difficult to stop replaying last night's conversations in my mind.

219 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

I am beginning to understand all this. The way love works, but mostly the ways it does not. I'm gaining more through experience, and I'm happy, the way a housewife is when she finally gets more for her money at the grocery store.


For him, I played Wet Sand and Music when the Lights Go Out. And after each song, he stared, eyes widened like a puppy who realises its master will soon be leaving it. Come, is what he said, and he motioned for me to lay beside him, to warm his bare body. But time stood sitll, as it often does when I draw a blank. I didn't go. Paralysis plagued me for those frozen minutes. I remained seated, next to his feet. Those unflattering, large, calloused feet.

Really, I did. I sat by his feet.

284 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

i am not a fan of this editor.

278 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

 No, I have my own baby and she tastes best on the rocks. She travels smoothly down my throat again and again. Then hits me to the head, catching me off guard. She is inconsistent in the way she treats me. Some nights she makes me float, dance and sing. Makes me embrace every man to my left and right. Other days, she hurts me so hard; I feel a crack to my skull, a rip in my stomach and poison rising in my throat. She abuses me and I abuse her back, because that’s all that I know. I abuse that rum-dripping baby, devour her dry. I never look back at that real child I left behind. The one with rosy cheeks and innocent fits of laughter. That one would have drained all my energy, and I was too busy draining that bottle.

269 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
End of semester syndrome
Listening to: david bowie

I would do close to anything for a cigarette right now. A cigarette to leech on. To suck, suck, suck like a parasite. The orangeish lighting of the computer lab sinks into each boy's and girl's skin, their pores absorbing the light. They become orange faces and arms, staring ahead at a screen, their hearts following the rhythm of clacking keys, listening to static noise occasionally interrupted by the busy beat of the printer expelling paper. Row after row, lines furiously being entered on a tiny computer database. Movements; robotic, timed, monotone, rigid, hardly able to distinguish technology from being.

Peak, peak. Students slightly more alive peak into the room from outside. Waiting with desperation for a computer of their own. With widened eyes, great huge eyes of grotesque proportion. Iris and pupils moving in circles, searching corners. They're aware of any motion, ready to attack. Shoulder hunched, necks narrowing, sombre faces, wings on the verge of spreading, so vulture-like. With time, they'll grow beaks and feathers!

265 hit(s) (4 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Monster cholesterol

I experienced these really painful lung or heart or an organ-below my-heart-and-lungs aches while I was in the computer lab this evening. They are probably related to my poor-college-student diet of macaroni and cheese, pizza, and mcdonalds cheeseburgers (i gave up on the vegeterianism). My mother is bribing me to go over this weekend. She promises to cook me a nice meal. I am almost considering it, despite knowing she has a list of things she's waiting to nag/ bitch to me about. I think I need to eat something that requires more than ten minutes to make. 


Besides the lack of nutrients in my body, I am very well. A bit stressed, but things will be fine.   

252 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Humpty Dumpty

Setting a base,

gluing back the pieces

of a broken backbone.

268 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose
Listening to: yeah yeah yeah's -cheated hearts

In general, reality intrudes abruptly. A blow to the head, a slap across the face. A sting that stays a few more undesired seconds or minutes. It guarantees to leave a mark and hopes to keep you in place, because there is no room for dreamers like you. But I never learn, and in any case, reality's attempts were never before successful.

It would be a lie to say that this thing I do is not a talent. I wouldn't call it daydreaming because I associate that term with tweenish girls. It's more of an obsession with placing myself in pleasant situations which haven't happened and have no chance of ever occurring. I could never even put into words these ideas and thoughts that come to me and I accept open-armed. Packaged with such elaborate sensory details and interesting dialogue! At the same time, it has to be one of the most destructive things that I can possibly do to my mind.

Sitting on the edge of a rooftop, during one of my recluse moments, I was slowly grounded to this world. I wasn't caught off guard, though. Instead the mental pictures I was toying with and enjoying dissolved before me. Like the film of a movie projected slowly combusting or lighting a paper on fire. It starts with small brown burn marks until the fire catches on and all that remains is a flame to marvel at.

That is how I felt, the dream was gone, but instead of marveling or feeling hurt towards the truth, I was willing to accept it and admit I did not like it.

I am currently in the process of changing "this truth" I stumbled on, and I know it will be a long and bumpy road to follow along with a strenuous amount of work and dedication, but I am excited to fucking ride it and see where I end up.

238 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: wet sand -rhcp

I have never felt so confused. I also have never understood so much.

I am breaking away because I need to know that I can do so whenever I desire to.

Note: It's not running away.

If I do not possess the courage, I asked, will you do the deed for me?

To which he responded, how do you mean?

I will stay until it is finally mutual. Unless I eventually stay put and succumb to everything that I despise and find meaningless just because it is easier that way. I am hoping the latter never happens.

Doubt, of whatever kind, can be ended in action alone.

My shadow side so amplified

Keeps coming back dissatisfied

Elementary son but it's so...

My love affair with everywhere

Was innocent why do you care

Someone start the car

Time to go... You're the best I know

My sunny side has up and died

I'm betting that when we collide

The universe will shift into a low

The travesties that we have seen

Are treating me like Benzedrine

Automatic laughter from a pro

My, what a good day for a, walk outside

I'd like to get to know you a little better, baby,

God knows that I really tried

My, what a good day

For a take out bride

I'd like to say we

did it for the better of

I saw you there so unaware

Those hummingbirds all in your hair

Elementary, son, but it's so

The disrepair of Norma Jean

Could not compare to your routine

Balarama beauty going toe to toe

My, what a good day

Just to let it slide

I'd like to say we did it for the better of

I thought about it

and I brought it out

I'm motivated by the lack of doubt

I'm consecrated but I'm not devout

The mother, the father, the daughter, yeah

Right on the verge, just one more dose

I'm traveling from coast to coast

My theory isn't perfect, but it's close

I'm almost there, why should I care

My heart is hurting when I share

Someone open up and

let it show

My, what a good day

for a walk outside

I'd like to think we did it for the better of

I thought about it and I brought it out

I'm motivated by the lack of doubt

I'm consecrated, but I'm not devout

The mother, the father, the daughter- Oh

You don't form in the wet sand,

You don't form at all- Whoa

You don't form in the wet sand,

I do- Yeah...

268 hit(s) (3 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Bless you.

Woohoo! Piggy Flu.

Come get your germ on!

287 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Ceci est une pipe

it was not about politics

or a mirror reflected onto society

or the unexplored depths of some inner struggle.

it wasn't a tormented feeling burrowed,

never meant to illuminate or obscure.

it didn't trigger nostalgic memories

and the moral was not simplification.

the thought came, and left

as quickly as the action.

and it was, simply, the world seen

through the eyes of a feverish girl with a

fluctuating temperature.

278 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Barbie Doll

This girlchild was born as usual

and presented dolls that did pee-pee

and miniature GE stoves and irons

and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy.

Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:

You have a great big nose and fat legs.

She was healthy, tested intelligent,

possessed strong arms and back,

abundant sexual drive and manual dexterity.

She went to and fro apologizing.

Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs.

She was advised to play coy,

exhorted to come on hearty,

exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.

Her good nature wore out

like a fan belt.

So she cut off her nose and her legs

and offered them up.

In the casket displayed on satin she lay

with the undertaker's cosmetics painted on,

a turned-up putty nose,

dressed in a pink and white nightie.

Doesn't she look pretty? everyone said.

Consummation at last.

To every woman a happy ending.

I submitted the poem from my previous entry as my seventh workshop in creative writing class. When the teacher asked me if I've ever read Barbie Doll by Marge Piercy, I told her I hadn't. She replied with a disappointed look and said, well, it's very similar to your poem. too similar, actually. And walked away.

I only added the nose-cutting part today, right before giving the assignment in, thinking it will add originality.


288 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
A leak in my head

i woke up with a leak in my head

(let it drain, let it drain)

she glitters and you are plain,

they say

i was never allowed to play

with other girls on the lane

because my hair curled and bounced naturally.

(will you ever get that tamed?)

she can't hear the ticking clock

because her mind has become hard as a rock

and that’s where it’s at,

rocks don't absorb any of this or that

no risk of getting fat.

(unlike my ugly nose

and yours, and yours, and yours.)

so, i decided to cut that nose, strike a pose,

smile carefully and keep everything simple.

expose my bleached teeth, never laugh and

show my left cheek dimple.

the director and cameraman

placed behind me a fan.

and my hair blew to the left and right

left and right, left and right.

And, oh, how silky and straight! they exclaim

(what a pleasant sight)

my actions are now reduced to 1,2,3. 1,2,3.

monotonous regularity

but it's alright

because they said

i'll live infinitely

if i get sold and just do what i'm told.

253 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Ticking Clock
Listening to: the lovely feathers

I was sure I had a firm grip on it a few seconds ago, but it appears to have escaped me. My finger tips burn from this cursed laptop, and my eyes droop because I'm searching for something too intensely. And one can point their shrivel finger at me and accuse me of excessively perverse behavior. But once I get my guaranty for the future, once I know I can erase a moment in time where I led myself astray and exchange it for one more pleasant, then I'll settle down and sew my lips shut.


221 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
I'm five years old

Mother said it started with the bite of an apple and

the toothless man told me to never cross my legs. so i walk straight ahead, following a paved path, cautious of apples.

you live your life dodging twinkling things that fly right by (sneaky bastards, the woman in wool coats say). secretly, i wish one would hit me in the eye. i really want to shine.

i only pray in the rain, or when i cannot get up to pee and wonder who can judge if that is good enough.

221 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Let your hair down
Listening to: elliott smith-twilight

My biggest fear is settling for a lifestyle that does not make me happy, that is bland, mundane and unsatisfying just because it might be more convenient.

Because I believe I am above that. And I am, and I am.

I wish I could drain all the doubt from my head.

258 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Bad/Recycled Poetry Assignment

Do you pray for happiness?

I get on my knees, and beg for glimpse of it, not for the stability it may provide but for the bragging privileges.

The cigarette locked between lips rips my skin upon its retreat.

Blood reaches my tongue, awakening my taste buds to the salinity.

My fingers, nicotine-stained, keep the smell of tobacco lingering around

the way a thick fog hangs after a storm.

Thunder cracks, a whip on a bull, and in the distance

I am sitting on the steps of Place Ville Marie and

I’m breaking my back bone, bewitched by beliefs I barely grasp.

My pain subsides, and my attention is focused on

A pulchritudinous woman

“Today, me pretty,” said she. Impeccable Grammar.

I don't speak to her, but turn the other direction

Like a four letter word,

I am a cowardly shadow figure, creeping from block to block

my feet race with no reason or direction.

Squirrels exchange gossip and

Birds stare accusingly, shriek obscenities

reads the tale of my reflective notebook.

A friendly fire growing within me, my outlet, my defence mechanism

Un mauvais ouvrier point de bons outils

A battle with the hydra, with each head slaughtered, the problem worsens

Vroom hiss the cars, ladies' heels click, and men strut in suits, in the city it is only natural

But still it is obvious for anyone to see that this part of town is empty. Only the ghosts of yesterday night lurk around.

288 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Skipping thoughts

I sneezed six times in a row. I don't understand why doctors suggest to sneeze on the inner side of your elbow instead of on your hand. If you sneeze in your palm, you use the other hand to open the sink and wash the gross one, this way you don't infect anything. If you sneeze on your sleeve, then it will become infested with germs and will stay that way the whole day. So if you bump into somebody, or if one accidentally touches your sleeve, then the germs start to spread! And then these people will touch others without knowing, and so on and so on. I always receive weird looks when I block my sneeze with my hand.

So, I'm a year older as of two days. No more wiser than a year ago, but definitely more scared and confused, and oddly enough, I feel like my body has aged a good 30 years since my last birthday.

I need to write the first five pages of my creative writing final project, and I started to, then I realized that the main character is very much like Michael from the office. I think I'll still continue with it, I mean I could create a character based on another one, right? I kind of feel like cheating if I do go on with it, though.

I've noticed that I've been rambling a lot in here. A lot of nonsense and whatnot. I don't really care, I may sound stupid or absolutely nuts or sometimes boring, but I think I really need an outlet. I feel very lonely lately. I haven't been seeing my best friend much, my boyfriend's and my work schedule don't match, everyone else is really busy with school and I really miss my sisters. I think it's kind of healthy to just spit things out on here, without editing or thinking twice, although it's pretty sad, Sitdiary has become the replacement to the question "how was your day?" Replacing human interactions with technology.

234 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Here, and thank you

I haven't seen the sun in six days.

I dropped my name for three of those days and adopted a whole new identity as # 39. A subject to a project.

I have zilch left in my bank account, four overdue bills, no food.

A broken telephone, a crazy friend who expects too much of me, a miserably depressed sibling, a family friend with leukemia, back pains, nausea, headaches.

These are all possible triggers to one of the worst anxiety attacks in the history of Cristina's life. But who knows, maybe it was the fourth McDonald's (free!) coffee refill or the pack of cigarettes chained smoked or the lack of food in my system or the street cat chewing on a dead pigeon's wing or simply, the price I pay for being chemical imbalanced (my least favorite reason, because it proves how little control I have over my life). Either way, had it not been for the 100% I received on my Eastern Religion and the Arts test and the warm, embracing, loving hug I always get upon my arrival home every evening, I probably wouldn't be here right now.

And I'm not saying this to be overly dramatic. I am not suicidal, but I've never felt so close to fucking shit as I did today.


Listening to: Belle and Sebastien

I hear jingling keys outside. I stare at my door, eyes widened, fingers cross. Although I do not want to believe it, I know I am spending tonight alone.

I have a huge to-do list, with no desire to comply with what "responsible Cristina" wrote three hour's prior. (Defensive Cristina comes to the rescue: poor child, suffering of this and that, with no motivation, how can you blame her?)

I am thirsty, but feel no urge to get off the couch and quench it.

I have a growling stomach, with no intention to bribe it for quietness with a sandwich.

I feel the need to do something destructive but don't care enough to go along. I also don't have the heart, the nerves, the gut for it.

I ache for sleep. Which could be easily obtained since I'm already lying down, cocooned in numerous sheets and blankets. Okay. Go. now. Goodnight.

308 hit(s) (4 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Vive le Quebec libre

Despite their arguments, the truth about Quebec sovereignists is that they simply love to bitch. We are the winiest, wimpiest nation (yes, I'm pro the whole "is Quebec a nation?" debate) ever. We speak of big projects and ideas, but will never get off our asses to actually do anything. We're lazy. We're drunkards, barely able to coherently mumble anything beyond "Et un autre, mon petit ostie." We're a party province, never to be taken seriously. Our priorities include finding the best, tastiest poutine and smoke meat sandwiches, the most potent beer and the easiest lay. We'll point our fingers at you and say you do not know a single thing. While in reality, any city north of Laval (with the exception of Quebec city) is inhabited by ignorant hicks, who still haven't found the appropriate time to stop sniffing glue and finish their high school degrees. Also, lets not forget how we've completely butchered one of the prettiest languages in the world.

I really can't help but find it humorous when people speak of their fear regarding Quebec's potential separation. Threat? Really, we're just a cute little joke that will welcome you with a lap dance.

297 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Naked bible reading sessions

So, here's a little update that has nothing to do with naked bible reading sessions. I am still feeling somewhat shitty BUT I no longer hate my creative writing class. Actually, I love it, and according to my teacher's feedback am doing a pretty fucking good job. Feature writing has become the enemy. (Funny how the tables have turned.) Write about real global issues? Pshhh! I'd rather not! Instead, let's write about the slutty, schizophrenic, homeless wino I aspire to be. Duh! We also have to keep a visual diary, and I am having a really good time working on that. It's become my new outlet, and I'd rather create than spend moneyz on pretentious women who think they know everything because they carry around a fucking notepad.

Also, my roommate's cat has started to lose its mind. He chases invisible creatures/ objects(?) around the apartment all night long. I am convinced he is addicted to juice and is experiencing withdrawal symptoms when he behaves so annoyingly. And he doesn't stop meowing. He has this new irritating high pitch meow, that pierces my eardrum.

In job news, I am waiting for algorithme pharma to call me about my blood and urine sample. I really need to get this study, because otherwise I will actually resort to selling my body to the opposite (or same) sex instead of to this pharmaceutical company. Well, probably not, but still! Anyways, in the meantime, I've asked for my job back at Dunkin'.

Oh, I now remember what I actually came on here for. It's a pretty wild and elaborate story, that I don't really want to write about anymore. But, the gist of it is that I am providing free donuts for a wanted criminal (a really minor crime, blown out of proportion(and yes I do believe it is minor and he is not lying. i am not just being naive)), who is stuck in montreal with no food or money, because he was robbed while trying to buy weed on St-Catherine's. He does, however, have a car that doesn't work and three triple A batteries.

Crazy, eh?

275 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: regina spektor

So, I'm entering that stage of the year where the excitement of starting school has completely faded. A period in which partying and my laissez-faire attitude don't seem to have a point. And I'm usually left alone at home, dwelling on my past and thinking my problems are a lot more important than they actually are. I'm reminded of my own insignificance, and everything appears so large in comparison to I, a minuscule speck. [Oh, boo fucking hoo, Cristina.]

On a less existential note, but an equally unhappy one, I got fired from a job that I had for a single day. The place is amazing. Eva B . But the actual job wasn't that fantastic. It was mostly cleaning, and the manager didn't train me, but expected me to know everything. I wasn't exactly fired, but she said "they were overstaffed" (then why did you hire me in the first place, cuntbag!) I'm sure if I was not as awkward and timid, she would have gave me a chance. So, I have an 887 dollar mastercard bill to pay, with only 200 in my account. I've been left with no other choice than to sell my bodaaay...

to algorithme pharma. Yes, I am going to be a guinea pig for a pharmaceutical company. It pays 1400 dollaaaas. I like watching people's facial expressions when I tell them, and proceeding to tell them how some side effects may include growing an extra finger or two. I wish the medication was for something more exciting than osteoporosis, though.

371 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Easter on a spit

It wasn’t enough that my mother and father refused to celebrate North American holidays, but we had to bring back every single Greek tradition to Canada. We were the only family on the block who didn’t celebrate birthdays but instead commended the day the Saint you were named after had passed away. To be honest, I don’t think most families in the cities of Greece made festivities of this anymore. But my parents, having come from two very religious hick towns, agreed it was the only thing that mattered, and that birthdays were horrible, materialistic rituals with the sole purpose of spoiling children.

My great aunt went so far as to tell me that children who celebrate birthdays don’t only spoil in the sense of becoming bratty, but in the physical sense that a fruit spoils. She was the kind of relative who always held a cigarette between her shriveled fingers and overdoused herself in cheap lilac perfume. She would speak with such urgency as if if she didn't express what was on the her mind, the whole world would stop turning tomorrow. She created stories about all the little kids she had seen running around who were slowly “rotting”, with broken yellow teeth caused by all the candy they ate, red and crusty eyes due to their proximity to the television, and patchy skin tones from their unhealthy diets. I wondered if she knew she had just given a description of some her most distinguishable features, and asked myself whether or not she was one these children when she was younger.

Most of the time, we managed to camouflage and keep all the absurdity confined to our little house. According to my parents, since they were so well behaved they were allowed to let loose and be publicly Greek once a year. That one occasion was Orthodox Easter. Every year I hoped that my parents would decide to celebrate a washed-down version, or if I was lucky, maybe they would completely forget about it. Of course, I was delusional to have that ever cross my mind. Easter was never canceled. Even under extreme weather conditions, the show went on.

Heads were always turning in our house’s direction, when they walked by, or even drove by.

One of the most vivid memories of Easter was when I was eleven years old, and the holiday fell on a hot, toasty Sunday. The kind of day that really marks the transition into summer, where the sunlight stuns you, and the sunrays send the most comforting sensations of warmth through your body. A day where children take over the streets and their laughter echo from every direction. They did ordinary and playful things, threw baseballs, skipped rope, and rode bicycles while staring open-mouthed at the Greek girl slowly turning a lamb on a spit in her front lawn. That Easter, somehow I was volunteered by someone other than myself to be in charge of the spit. So, I sat there for nearly two hours, rotating the lamb, switching arms whenever one of them numbed. I remember being so embarrassed that I averted my eyes whenever I heard a neighborhood child call out my name, and kept my eyes fixed at the poor animal tied up and slowly cooking.

I eventually learned to appreciate my culture. Although I am not religious, I look forward to Easter and everything that comes with it. Spring would not be the same. One Sunday of the season, the neighbors expect the mix aroma of charcoal burning and lamb cooking accompanied by the very loud and harsh-sounding Greek chatter and singing.

267 hit(s) (4 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Let's get serious here
Listening to: all i want- violent femmes

Goals for this month ( will not be taken seriously after this momentary urge to organize my life is over):

-Cut down to 4 cigarettes a day. (For algopharma reasons only)

- Lose 7-8 pounds (10 is unrealistic, 9 is too close to 10. 5 isn't enough, and 6 is too close to 5)

- Stop adding useless things to the to-do list (such as sleep, eat, comb hair) for the sole purpose of crossing it out. You have not accomplished anything!

-Buy speed (I don't need to explain that)

So, I've already dedicated an evening to homework, not because I am studious but because otherwise I'll probably fail. And it's only the second week! I hate hate hate my creative writing class. Kind of. I feel as if, in every class, I am being completely juiced of the little bit of creativity I have left. And the worst part is I never produce anything good! It is the main root of my stress, and I was living such a care-free, joke-of-a-life before. Damn.

The only reason as to why I refuse to drop it is the "THAT'S NOT TRUE!" comment I made to my therapist when she said: "You always run away when the possibility of not succeeding arises. You never challenge yourself." I keep hearing her irritating voice in my head.

So basically my stubbornness got me into this fucking mess. I am, on the other hand, really enjoying my feature writing class and all my other classes.

In other news, I am about to give in to the pressure of finding a job and apply at Urban Outfitters with Veronika this Friday. I know they are hiring and in great need, and I have a few friends who work there and can put smiley stickers on my C.V ('cause that's what they actually do when they wanna recommend someone.)

Oh, don't judge.

222 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Heard, seen, vandalized.

I sit while the world stands. From afar, it laughs and claps and sings and smiles and breathes. Inhales, inhales. inhales. In the distance I see a mountain with a cross that glows at its peak. Sit in between squares and lines that shine. A blow of the wind, a harsh breeze but even the flowers don't dare move. Perfect and linear. The world stands, walks, races in between squares and lines that shine. My mind demands a pause. Train of thoughts [crash!] is soon replaced by habitual chain smoking. (Memo: exhale)

A need for continuity, and a hope to unfreeze.

This part of town is empty, only the ghosts of yesterday's night lurk around, and so I sit while the world stands.

414 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

to lay an egg (idea, thought), and let you hatch it.

bruised, calloused, ink stained fingers

variation of words that hum the same movements.

the way the paper feels against my shriveled hands,

the clicks the keys scream

but mostly for the sensation

oh! oh! deeper penetration!

for(e)[word]play, to get my fix, an endless desire to find tranquility.

i am, and will always remain hunched over a puzzle that will not negotiate. this is mostly an obsession with its refusal to reveal itself.

284 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Sleep deprived and craving raisin bran cereal

I'm feeling slightly better this week, but mostly because I don't have the time to feel miserable. I am happy the Vincent incident is over, because I couldn't endure the anxiety that came with having my privacy completely invaded.

Hmm, so what do I do with my days? It's a sad and mundane routine, I must admit. Work, nap, supper, read, an unsuccessful attempt to party, repeat. EXCEPT, I went to the water slides this Tuesday with Sara, Mike, Ola and Ryan. That was great but kind of creepy. Everyone there looked like each other. Extremely hick with cliche tattoos. I must have seen 105 butterflies, 87 flowers, 200 tribal patterns, and a countless amount of Chinese script that says "I think I'm being original and cultured by getting this ugly design on my lower back." They probably thought it meant freedom or love or something of the sort.

It's hard coming up with a good and original idea for permanent body ink, so I decided against it. I'm fine with getting more piercings, for now. Also I'm really satisfied with my breast implants. ...

Ha, fooled ya there. You thought I was talking about a boob job. But no, I'm talking about my piercing implants that are on my breasts. Two microdermal diamond studs.

So here's a picture of my cleavage 'cause I have nothing else to say.


265 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Hiding from him in my walk-in closet.

Shhhh! Don't tell!

251 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
This and that
Listening to: bedouin soundclash-jeb rand

I am playing housewife in the manoir prestige. I've spent my morning cleaning, brewing coffee and baking cookies. This is not part of my regular routine, and I'm thankful for that, but in this very moment I could pull every single hair off my fat head. I'm waiting for the "man" to arrive, and in the meantime I sit, pour another cup of coffee on spit-shine granite counter and light another cigarette. I make a mental note to drink the next cup black. I forget that's how I like it.

I was going to write about something slightly more depressing, but I decided against it. My heart can't handle the sting, not yet. I don't know when I'll ever face it, vocalize the issues out loud or even scribble them down on a napkin. Probably never.

I am anticipating but also worrying about this coming fall semester. I took two writing classes. A creative one and a journalism class. I have no idea why I decided to do so, and am very nervous about them. I am so used to writing about my life, and my wonderful self, I have a feeling that any attempt with another subject will have a disastrous turn out.

On a happier note, Modest Mouse is coming August 19, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were added to Osheaga. I am very very excited, and am going to buy my tickets as soon as possible. (Don't want another Beirut incident, underestimating their fans then finding out that the show was sold out two months before I even tried to get my own tickets.)

311 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Lady sing the blues so well
Listening to: jack johnson

Quarter moon glued to navy velvet, stretched out from here to where?

Inside, the clock says there's nothing.

My world begins to rumble. Ground. Now Inside.

Double golden arc calms me then disappointments me.

(It only makes sense for the McDonald's in central station to be open at all hours.)

Those voices say, darling, you're young. Grab a seat, pour a glass

('Cause you know this won't last)

Now I'm breaking my back for ideals I can't grasp.

Forget to exhale, because inhaling comes naturally.

Stole the air around so subtly.

My mind takes a cab drive somewhere.

Jaundiced, twisted eyes printed on skin, smooth and bare. Taste this. Bitter and Salty

Pull in closer, whispering again, softly. Stockings are loosening, falling off, and I'm feeling sleazy.

Flimsily torn. Ungratefully born.

To describe it like this is not easy.

286 hit(s) (3 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
I can play house

Caffeine, (a red eye) searching for a stronger hit. He left, he really did. Strike, match, too late, he's already lit. I'd pull every tooth off to escape this fucking ache, I'd rip every tooth out to build him a castle, and maybe later I'll bake him a cake.


Time got me feeling emotions

Why you always digging on my nerve?

I feel weak, when I say "please" you keep on

Does breaking me make you feel so strong?

288 hit(s) (5 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
The last you'll hear from me

"If you're looking for sympathy you can find it between shit and syphilis in the dictionary."

267 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Untouchable is something to be

-July 2008

I sit on the corner of St-Catherine and Peel, in no hurry to run away from the black cloud overhead. Two months ago, I remember the situation was different.

The sky was bright and clear. But I guess in a different sense that black cloud was still present and lurking over me. I sat on the same corner while a vagabond with a tin jar vocalized everything I once stood for. He paid no attention to me, and I did my very best to do the same. As he sung and strummed the strings on his guitar, emotions I did not have the courage to recognize began to surface. I had adopted the ideals of the people I used to rant against, and I did not want to believe it. Fucking to love, exercising for a numbing effect and snorting to forget.

[I tip-toed and stretched and stretched and stretched my arms to reach something unattainable. I could have tried forever but would have never had it. Luckily I was not completely numb, and felt the pain from my over-stretched arms.]

And now I sit on the same corner, merely a shadow, I think of this stranger and the impact he left with his words. How a stranger can passively and calmly sit by, hoping he might capture someone off guard with a single song. And how he did.

And now I sit on the same corner, merely a cowardly shadow, unable to interfere the way he did. But more than anything, I 'd like to grab anyone and everyone who passes by and I'd like to shake them and see the life spring into their eyes.

287 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Human Relations

I've always defended Quebec when it came to their unique educational system, but looking back, I think C.E.G.E.P may have majorly fucked me up the ass without me taking notice until this very moment.

C.E.G.E.P is the equivalent of Community Colleges in the United States, except they are required in order to enter university. The neat thing about these institutions is that students graduate high school one year earlier than the rest of North America (five post elementary years) in order to do something more "serious"(picking a program). Students are removed from the strict highschool grounds and put into a laid-back college environment without the disgustingly obese fees. Also, since a D.E.C (the diploma required to enter university in Quebec) takes two years, any undergraduate program for a Quebec resident is one year shorter.

Doesn't that sound wonderful? It did, when I started C.E.G.E.P two years ago, blinded by the excitement of making my own schedule and smoking weed on the premises. The truth is it is an advantage to most people, but most people are not passionless unstable nutcases like myself. My first reaction to my failure in school was to blame my age. Having skipped one year of school, I started C.E.G.E.P at sixteen. My argument was that it is too early to ask a sixteen year old which road she wants to take, but honestly, that is an excuse. And a poor one in my case. To my surprise, there were a few other sixteen year old's starting out, just like myself. As much as I don't want to admit it, I think I wasn't ready to leave high school. Although I ached for the freedom, I wasn't responsible enough to have it, and continued to need the structure that high school provided.

I did well during my first semester, barely passed my second, and in my third I was finally reduced to leaving because of psychological reasons. And now, I am suppose to return this fall, leaving behind my dream of visiting Greece and living in a monastery, as I originally planned. I am terrified of returning. First of all, I have begun to despise my program and the people in it, but don't care enough to switch out since there is only a year left. Secondly, I don't have the strength to be a good student anymore. I don't have the self discipline, either. I love learning, and I do feel the need to expand my knowledge, but I have a feeling that no program can ever satisfy that. This thirst prefers experience rather than text readings. My last and most important problem is that I do not have a passion, I go through an identity crisis every week or so, and have absolutely no idea what to do with myself or my future.

I've recently managed to comfort most of my identity problems. There was this study conducted and included in the book The Tipping Point. The purpose of it was to prove how context and setting can make minor to major changes in personalities. I have always been one to give a different part of me to different persons. Although most see the quiet, reserve person I am, there are few who know me as the complete opposite. Others who know me as manic, switching from one pole to another in less than a second. I thought my extreme behavior was partially because I am a Libra and partially due my emotional instability. But lately, I noticed something else factored into my behavior. Certain people brought a different kind of "me" out. These people were often grouped together and were not related to the others in my life. For example, my coworkers know me as hard-working, good with people and fast, while my family members think of me as lazy and socially-retarded. Anyways, the experiment was to take about 25 men (I think) that were classified as "stable, good, healthy men" and place them into a pseudo prison. Some were assigned to be guards while others were the prisoners. After a few days, the guards, who would have normally been generous, loving men, began to bully and mistreat the prisoners. And vice versa. Prisoners and guards had all turned on each other. The reason for this occurring was the lighting and general gloomy surroundings of the prison affecting their mood and changing who they were. The Power of Context chapters in that book basically proved to me that no one really has a fixed set of traits, they are always altering to suit where and with you are.

Although this study did soften the edges to the identity questions that have been poking me in the back of the head, another major problem remains. I am absolutely passionless and talentless. I mean I got skillzzz and all, but I am just pretty mediocre in everything that I consider a pastime. Yes, I draw, speak three and half languages, and can probably analyze you better than your psychologist can. But do I really care about these things? No. Did I put any effort in anyone of these things. No, they just happened.

One thing I would certainly do in my life is help people. Something, I think, that might just be a characteristic of a Libra.( And, yes, I strongly do believe in astrology). No matter how cynical I am about the human race sometimes, it hurts to see people suffer even those who most would argue deserve it. I just do not think that school is necessary in order to help others. I could join Amnesty International, volunteer in third world countries and fuck everything else. Yet, I cannot erase my mother's words from my head. They are permanently stamped there and will haunt me forever. And the scariest part is at times, I believe I can never obtain my goals without some sort of degree to show off, too.

I don't really know how to put an end to this dilemma of mine, or even this rant. I know that I will continue to try and follow a set of track lines that will never bring me close to where I want to be. And I will knowingly continue to follow those lines and purposely try to fail. If I can break those barriers that constrict me to this mundane life, maybe one day I'll feel content. But for now, I'll continue to smoke what I smoke, drink what I drink, push myself to please a menopausal Greek woman, and hope that I'll find something I can disguise as a talent or passion.

322 hit(s) (3 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Better times.

I have a lot to say but do not want to deal with it. I do not want my little bubble of ignorance to pop.

So I'm nostalgically posting pictures of my Cuba trip.







I feel like I should talk about something, at least. This is the first night I have time to myself and time to think. Life has been slightly hectic after my trip, and oddly enough, I feel very stable. With all that is happening, I should feel very unsettled, but I do not. I am calmly waiting for a tipping point, for that bubble to burst. Because I know it will, and that's fine.

Yesterday, Ryan, Andrew, Ola, Joe and Mike came by me after their jam session and found me passed out on the couch, tangled in sheets, with an empty box of pizza and half a bottle of rum by my side. My glasses were also tossed somewhere on the floor.

Later on, we waited around for Pierick, Cleo, Chris, Tyler, Sam, and Sean to join us. We slowly made our way to the "green space", which is on the Mont-Royal mountain, above the old Marianopolis campus. It was pretty bait, but extremely fun. It is a lot more enjoyable to drink outside on summer nights. I always feel guilty when I am indoors, because I am not taking advantage of the weather.

This morning I decided to come visit my parents in Duex-Montagnes, and while I was waiting for my train, I met a photographer for the Festival de Mode et Design. He was interesting, and I have nothing else to say about that.

I always neglect this site during the summer, and will probably continue to do so.

352 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Στα μονοπάτια του καημού στη γέφυρα του στεναγμού μ' έκάν' η μάνα μου

Μια φθινοπωρινή βραδιά, ζωή η κρύα σου καρδιά είδαν τα μάτια μου

Με κουδουνίστρες πλαστικές όμορφες και χρωματιστές με νανουρίζανε

Και τα ματάκια τα μικρά είδαν του κόσμου τ' αγαθά και συμφωνήσανε

Ήταν το γάλα μου πικρό και το νεράκι μου γλυφό που με μεγάλωνε

Κι απέναντι στη κούνια μου, η μοίρα η κακούργα μου και καμάρωνε

Ήταν το κλάμα μου μουντό σαν κάτι να 'θελα να πω, μα δεν με νιώσανε

Μια λυπημένη αναπνοή για τη πουτάνα τη ζωή που μου χρεώσανε

Έτσι ξεκίνησα λοιπόν, έτσι ξεκίνησα, δεν με ρωτήσανε ζωή, μα σε συνήθισα

Σαν πληγωμένο αετόπουλο στο χώμα, ψάχνω τη δύναμη να κρατηθώ ακόμα

Σαν πληγωμένο αετόπουλο στο χώμα, ψάχνω τη δύναμη να κρατηθώ ακόμα

Πάνω σε λάσπες και καρφιά στ' άδικου κόσμου τη φωτιά πρωτοπερπάτησα

Ισορροπία σταθερή για να προλάβω τη ζωή, όμως την πάτησα

Μονό το "α" και το "χ" στη σχολική μου εποχή πρωτοσυλλάβισα

Γι αυτό το "αχ" και το "γιατί" όπου βρεθώ μ' ακολουθεί κι ας τριαντάρισα

Έτσι περνούσε ο καιρός κι εγώ στο δρόμο μου σκυφτός έκανα όνειρα

Έτυχε να 'μαι απ' αυτούς που κολυμπάνε στους αφρούς και στα λασπόνερα

Στάζει το αίμα της ψυχής σαν τις σταγόνες της βροχής, όμως ποιος νοιάζεται

Και την αόρατη πληγή που μέσα μου αιμορραγεί ποιος την μοιράζεται

Έτσι ξεκίνησα λοιπόν, έτσι ξεκίνησα, δεν με ρωτήσανε ζωή, μα σε συνήθισα

Σαν πληγωμένο αετόπουλο στο χώμα, ψάχνω τη δύναμη να κρατηθώ ακόμα

Σαν πληγωμένο αετόπουλο στο χώμα, ψάχνω τη δύναμη να κρατηθώ ακόμα

Έτσι ξεκίνησα λοιπόν, έτσι ξεκίνησα, άλλα μου δείξανε και άλλα εγώ αντίκρισα

Θεέ μου, κι ας ήξερα ποια μέρα θα πεθάνω και του θανάτου μου γενέθλια να κάνω

Θεέ μου, κι ας ήξερα ποια μέρα θα πεθάνω και του θανάτου μου γενέθλια να κάνω

432 hit(s) (4 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Lose your mind, lose your clothes

I was not ready to come home. Every move that lead to the airport was done very bitterly.

And now I'm here, and do not know what to do with myself. This is the first time I feel nothing towards this city. As if I have nothing here. And what did I have in Cuba?

A beach, a pool, rum, 10 pack of cigarettes, rum, rum, rum, Junier who poured my rum, and all the perverted Cubans who fed my obese ego.

I lost myself in a hollow life, and I want to do so again. So, so, so badly.

271 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

i fell in love with a cuban man.

243 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Fuck tarts

I am so irritated! I failed my science class, like, what the fuck? It's retarded how that class works. The lab reports are only 25 % of the final mark, but if I fail that part I also fail the whole course. So, if I got less than 15 % in the lab reports, I fail. (Which I did). Okay sure, I didn't give in three out of seven lab reports, but I got 80% on all three of my exams, each one weighing 25% of the final grade.

This is the first time I failed something that I put some effort into, even if it was a minimal amount.

Good news is that I was accepted as a full time student at Dawson for the fall semester, which means I'll probably be leaving for Greece a lot sooner.

AND I'm leaving for Cuba this friday. Fuck yeah.

259 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Those butterflies
Listening to: Tire Swing- Kimya Dawson

won't shut up. And I hope they never do.

I love, love, love you.


My three older sisters should be ashamed of themselves. It isn't enough that they constantly leave angry voice messages on my phone, but they made my little sister leave me a voice message, too. And it made me feel completely guilty. It's true, I've neglected them, but I am busy!

Hello? I am alive, alive, alive. In love, and just moving on. I don't have time to watch the Wedding Singer for the 80th time.

Even after all their nagging, I'm nice enough to dedicate a day to them. This Saturday is breakfast, shopping, chapters and then it ends with Mexican night at Rose's condo for Irene's birthday.

Here are some other events I am looking forward to: Tomorrow is Silka's Art Show. And then we're going out for drinks.

Thursday I am getting pierced with Gen, then going to Eva B with Ally. ALSO, it's Lady's Night at Saphire. Pay 5$ for an open bar.

Friday, I am pre-drinking with Sean and then going to Kim's last party before she leaves for Switzerland.

I've been eating gluttonously, but going to the gym and walking and working and finishing that last science assignment and reading and drawing and writing and I feel good. And I'm still in love. Always. Always in love.



336 hit(s) (3 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
My theory isn't perfect but it's close

I am listening to Mason. He speaks of fictional lovers and a rose-tinted life. His fingers press onto strings and strum upbeat chords. A nice accompaniment to his vocals. He is tired of "mary-jane to his left and a forty in his right." ( Tired of writing about train tracks we never had the nerves to cross.)

And I sit, nursing my fourth hangover of the week, praying it will be gone before tonight. And then, have another go. I'll continue to press that rewind button. I waste my days, avoid solitude and spend a minimal amount of time on my bed. Because I can, because I am not ready to be ready. Not yet. Not ready to let life play itself. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Yet, my weeks are still without order. Without flow, or direction.

Yesterday's excursion was to St-Henri ghetto. Crossing train tracks, climbing fences, to enter a world we weren't ready to witness.

Street punks were hosting a free show (The Death House, ha) near Kuba's loft. The crowd mostly consisted of lanky suburban boys sporting five-sizes-too-large leather jackets, and making sure their multi-coloured foot-long mohawks were still in place. I decided to leave the venue when I saw one boy, a bit older than myself, fighting with his mommy on his blackberry, while hair spraying his mohawk. Seriously?

On my way back to the loft, a homeless man exposed himself and asked me where he can find a prostitute in this part of town. I averted my eyes, and paced myself to Kuba's. I settled on the couch, and began to consume. Big Names. Jack Daniels and Peter Jacksons and Marijane. I danced, and laughed and spoke to everyone. A few owners of the Death House came to the party, and I recognized one of them. His name was Alex, and he used to live on the streets, specifically on the east side of St Catherine's. Near the Dagwoods and the Dairy Queen. I drank with him during the Jazz festival, two years ago. And protested when he was arrested and brought to a police station. Now, he has a home. He lives with his wife, and friends, and their many dogs.

Around One, I had five dimes left, and the amount of trains passing by began to triple. I was slowly sobering up, and although at this point the bartender was giving me free drinks, I wanted to go home. I was sickened by everything. My flirting, my dancing, my clothes and especially that cloud of tobacco smoke that followed me everywhere.

There is something so beautiful, so sad about trains and their tracks. Especially coming down a high, at midnight, under a stubborn sky. The storm had passed, but little droplets of rain continued to moisten my face. A train car follows the previous, and the previous follows the one before, and the previous follows the one before, and so on, and then it's the conductor who follows the tracks. My grandmother followed her mother's advice, and my mother her mother's, and I try to follow my own mother's, but my tainted views on life spoil the chain. And I am left whispering I do not want this, but I want this also. If I can let go of that rewind button, and let myself move forwardly. If I can follow those tracks my mother build 18 years ago. If my need to live, and create and experience miraculously shut off. If, if, if, if, I was never born the black sheep, everything would be simpler. If, If, If. But in regards to now, I don't think I would trade in life's struggles for its simplicity. I'd go through the bereavements again and again just to know that everything will be fine in the end.

255 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
To Top Most Clever Evil Comrade Cristina!!

I met Chuck Palahniuk. And I feel like I should feel extremely privileged for having shook his hand. But I don't because in the end, it's just another hand. And you know what? It's not some god damn fucking sacred hand. He wipes his ass with that hand, just like I do with mine. And what not. His amazing mind is not in his hand, or in that smile of his. Or in those deflatable autographed penguins he threw to the crowd (caught one!), or in the small-talk we exchanged.

The 4 hour line was worth it because it was spend with You. And You. And I love you both.

288 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
St Catherine Street East

Raymond Souster

For Louis Dudek

Beer on a hot afternoon? – what else

in this Bon Marché of the World,

earth’s narrowest, most crowded rabbit-run,

sweating under loud sunshine that glints off

baby carriages, tin cups of beggars,

silver balls of pawnshops, making the rouge-layered, powder-dipped girls

squint hard but not taking anything off

their free-swinging walk on the stilt-heels.

Beer you said? Right back here

behind giant cheeses, wienerwurst truncheons,

hungry smells of bread, perfumes of coffee.

Look, the cold sweated bottles count out

to a dozen and we flight our way

past the check-out counter on the street

where sun, traffic, noise, faces, heat-breath

hit us, stun us.

Every face in every window

of each building watching as we go

down the steaming pavement, on, out of this jungle

where the dead are never buried by the living,

but crowd onto buses, sit late at bar stools, or wait

in the darkness of always airless rooms.

319 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
To the top, to the top

"I drive safe and slow, but don't know nothing about the engine."

I'm ready to grow, and learn. I will leave for Greece this coming fall. I will. I will. I will. I will. Fuck money, and fuck school and fuck it all. I feel the need to save and save and save. And panic when my account is empty. I feel the need to stay in school because I had a high I.Q as a child, and grew up believing it was the only option for me. At this point, I have no idea what I want to do and have no clue what my passion is. I know that forcing myself to stay in school will only prolong any progress.

I'd go through the bereavements again and again, just to know that everything will be fine in the end.

261 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

My roommate struts around in his boxer briefs. He's anxious. He sits, and stands, then sits. And laughs to himself. He reads my newspaper, and listens to my Regina Spector C.D, and drinks my orange juice.

I look at him. At once, I feel both my love and hate for him intensify. I could pierce his neck for touching my belongings. Also, I can hug him for the ways he reads his newspaper with an eyebrow raised, sways his shoulder when he listens to music, and slurps his juice.

If I deserve a best friend, it would be this pompous, aggravating, loving and lost bastard.

I've run out of things to say, and so I recycle memories and feelings, but not even, since I just made the above comment.(I am here and there.) I'm slowly moving into an unpleasant mind state. (Don't know where.)

(I thought I had an epiphany, but I'll never cross that line. Nothing is new and nothing is stale. Through the wash and spin cycle one more time.)

301 hit(s) (6 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
I kind of miss nights like these

Nov 17, 2008

-Scott, I really don't want to see you naked! Please come out.

-Mmmh imz hmmm anj iciciclllllle.

- I'm not going to sleep until you come out, you're going to get sick! You've been in there for nearly two hours.

My ear is pressed against the bathroom door, and I am trying my best to hear what he is mumbling. The genie from Aladdin is singing in the living room, while Ravi Shankar is playing his sitar in Mason's room. The clash of music and my state of mind make it harder to understand the words that stumble out of his mouth. High from the combination of "happy pills" and marijuana, I am trying to convince a guy who consumed the equivalent of 13 beers, to come out of the bathtub and throw some clothes on. It is six a.m and I ache for sleep. How did I end up in this situation?


I don't practice Santeria

I ain't got no crystal ball.

We sung loudly and out of tune. We chugged the last few ounces of our beers. Once the song ended, we decided to leave.

If the D.J would have played another song that struck nostalgic memories, perhaps we would have stayed. If we had stayed, we wouldn’t have witnessed Scott dry heaving, his face in a flower pot hoping to puke. If we had not seen that, I wouldn’t have gone inside to get him a glass of water. If I had not gone inside, he wouldn't have vomited on my shoes right after drinking the water. If he had not vomited on my shoes, maybe the cab drivers would have given us a ride. If we had taken a taxi, we wouldn't have walked forty minutes to Sean's apartment. If we had not walked, Scott wouldn't have gotten stomach cramps. If Scott had not gotten stomach cramps, he wouldn't have demanded to take a bath.

Of course, I do not regret the night's outcome. I am too nice to regret. But at six o’clock in the morning, coming down a wonderful high, I am fascinated with life's strange timing, and am toying around with alternative endings. An ending that did not include the possibility of seeing Scott naked.

271 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
I don't form in the wet sand

I beg for a glimpse of happiness. Not for the balance, stability it may bring to my life. No, never. Merely for the bragging privileges.

Maybe, that is why I cannot hold on to anything. Maybe not. I have lost my grip on what matters. What is real and why? Who is real, and who are you? I'm your slippy double, and yours, and yours, and yours and mine.

Lightening strikes, don't know where. Yield to the mind's invasion of bodily space. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. And wash your face. Stay in place.

303 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Success, suck-sex!

I climaxed for the first time in three weeks.

273 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

I have no worries and no cares. I am dim but on top of my school affairs. In moderation, in moderation. Everything in moderation. I don't understand this talk of extremes and addiction. Ew, coffee causes dehydration. Can you renew my birth control prescription? Sometime my period is unbearable. I cannot live with a simple tooth ache, so I put sugar free icing on my cake. Procrastination? I live for the present. Later and tomorrow are too far away. I'll never waste a day.

I do not binge eat and my nose is clean. Perfect posture, and oh my, I'll never bite a nail! Skin, smooth and pale. My hair is glossy and my teeth glow, but I am not that remarkable. I am humble yet confident. Pride is a deadly sin.

I breathe without the long drag of a cigarette and have no need for speed. Beer is icky, may I have a cosmopolitan please? Slick, painted in red lipstick. I'll toy with boys' hearts but never with their parts (don't make me blush, I am wearing too much already). I do not eat fast food meat, so I'm vegetarian. I eat fish since those animals do not have feelings anyway.

Do not get scared when I think of aging. Wait, oh no, white hair and wrinkles are aesthetically unpleasant! Sure, I believe in God. Who? Yes, Jesus was a good guy, too. Death? Can it really happen to me? I am sure it is just dramatized on T.V. I'm your modern Cinderella, Belle, Snow White. Blissfully ignorant, out of sight, and for me everything turns out alright. Calm heart during a howling night.

278 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

A month passes quickly, darling. And before you know it, you'll be in the deep end, and I'll continue laughing because I know that you're only sinking deeper by telling yourself things are fine. If they were, there would be no need to brag, brag, brag.

284 hit(s) (3 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Disregard or skip this one
Listening to: tom waits

I only took three tokes of some really potent weed, and was gone. Which pretty much fucked up my plans for the rest of the night. I wanted to get wrecked, but instead I hid in a room for two hours. So now, I have a bottle of vodka and some speed teasing me every time I open my bag. I need to be studious today, I have a few shit due, and like everyone else, can't wait until this is all over.

I went to the Tam-tams today and hung out with Spencer, discussed the usual, and generally enjoyed his company. Now, I'm alone in the condo, smelling like cleaning products (I had this urge to mop the whole house), wearing a pair of sunglasses that are obviously not necessary. They have a yellowish tint to them that makes everything look happy and pleasant. So I'll continue to wear them, and I'll continue to omit important information in my therapy sessions, and continue to nod and smile widely, and continue to pretend that if everything stays below the surface, I'll fucking survive this.

I am putting some effort in thinking about what might have caused this existentialist crisis, but it just seems irrelevant to find the root of the problem right now. Mostly, it's terrifying to think of it and face it.


This is what happens when one fears to verbally release the self centered, narcissistic diarrhea that flows through the mind.

Avoiding the pronoun "I", and now, my lips can leech back onto that cigarette and my mind can pretend nothing applies to me.

Untouchable is something to be, bitches.

hey daddy, ho daddy

never will die,

never will die.


And what better way to deal with all this than a fucking makeover. I want to get two microdermal diamond studs on my left boob, above my nipple. And I want more ear piercings and to start stretching the two holes on my left ear, die my hair a dark purple and get a tattoo.

And on an unrelated topic, I want to have sex with everyone besides my boyfriend and want to start a fight(physical or verbal) with someone.

This is the second week I've abstained from effexor. I'll never learn how to take my own advice. On several occasions, I've warned people about the importance of phasing it out, yet I stopped out of the blue, for no real reason, and now I'm obviously falling apart and fucking laughing about it, like the nutcase I am.

306 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Nothing, really
Listening to: Ryan playing santeria on his new accoustic

I am looking forward to this weekend. It is supposed to be 28 degrees celcius (both saturday and sunday). Unnatural, but hell, I ain't complaining. I have a whole lot of dresses BEGGING to be worn.

I have to save up money for:

- Atmosphere - (21$) May 8

- No Doubt with Bedouin Soundclash- (92.50$ if i want good seats, 68$ if i want bad seats) June 17

- Beirut- (18$) July 11

- Osheaga Weekend- (125$) ( The bands that I want to go see: Aug 1: Coldplay, The Roots, Girl Talk. Aug 2: Beastie Boys!, Artic Monkeys, The Decemberists) I am going to try and see if I can get a volunteer pass, but every year it's getting harder and harder as bigger bands are headlining.

-And of course my fucking trip to Cuba. I am so excited to go (I've begun packing already). I want to buy as many cigars and as much rum as I legally can. My plan this summer is to get majorly fucked up before I leave for Greece, 'cause who knows, I might come back a nun. Aha. C'est une blague.


Some pictures by Victoria in the new Condo-

Photobucket The Kitchen!

Photobucket View from the roof

Photobucket Spencer, Ben, Sara!

Photobucket Vicky!

Photobucket Sara on the roof

Photobucket Hannah!


Photobucket Oli!

Photobucket View

Photobucket Staircase to the roof

289 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Say, what?

Although I am doing well in school, I won't be returning in the fall. I might take a class or two in the summer. Instead, I'll be leaving for Greece to live in a monastery. It's in the middle of nowhere up on a mountain just outside of Athens. My mother has some friends who were thinking of sending their drug fiend son there, hoping he might find God. And that's who I'll be leaving with! (He's Australian!) After my mom found me bawling in the bath tub (semi clothed, empty tub) she suggested I take some "off time", as she put it. I know she is secretly hoping I find God, too. Oh, that psycho woman.

I am looking forward to this because it's something new and unexpected and I really want to find my own fucking peace of mind. Without medication, without therapists, without friends, without family, and although I will miss him terribly, without Ryan. I don't want to be happy solely when he is around, I want to be content in general.

I'll be gone for undetermined amount of time, but I'm hoping one/two months will be enough.


Edit, I wish I didn't feel so manic. The drop from the high is horrible. Terrifying, and yet I'm sure a part of me enjoys it. Like a roller coaster ride.

I am only starting to grasp the meaning of my diagnosis. Bipolar II. I only realised the longevity of it now. This isn't a fucking phase. There's a part of me that understands, and another that thinks all this is a joke and finds humor in my situation. That part tells me to skip my dose of effexor every once and a while and replace it with codeine.

I have so much to write about but don't want to read it. Don't want to think of it. Don't want to put the effort in expressing my scrambled thoughts, either.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, I should have bought marijuana today. Motherfucker.

315 hit(s) (3 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Xristos Anesti
Listening to: modest mouse

Binge eating commences now. Caramilk mini eggs. Lindor chicks. Belgian chocolate bunnies. I feel like a fucking whale.

It's a beautiful day, which means that the lamb will be roasted on the spit. Thankfully, they listened to my plea to roast it in the back yard instead of the front one.

I have nothing else to complain about.

289 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
The only good thing

about celebrating greek orthodox easter with my family this weekend is the fact that i get double the amount of chocolate because it's all half price and my sisters go all out and spoil me.

things i am missing out on this weekend:

-loft party today

-yann tiersen tomorrow

-all nighter shroom/body paint party tomorrow

-breakfast by a bonfire in cap st-jacques sunday morning.

fuck my life. i am hoping it rains, that way they will not roast lamb on my front yard.

300 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Blaze a blaze, purple haze
Listening to: M.I.A - Bucky Done Gun

My mind has parted! I'm so forgetful, I missed an optometrist appointment, forgot my cell phone at the condo and lost my pack of benson and hedges!

I am both, happy and stressed. I have a lot of overdue work and I'm afraid that my teachers will disregard my therapist's letter to them. I was trying to diet before Cuba, and I am doing a horrible job at it. I loooooove ice cream too much. I'm still exercising, though. I have decided against the gym today because I am still sore from the past week. Instead I'm dancing like a fool to some M.I.A 'cause I'm fucking g, yo.

It is pretty outside! Spring is here and I would like to rip my to-do list in half and find the energy to run, run, run. My body produces enough serotonin at the sight of the sun. Enough to keep my smile wide, but it is now where my lazy nature kicks in, and more than anything else, would love to indulge in my carefree negligent tendencies.

In other news, I am getting a haircut today! I'm not sure if I want a trim or if I want to chop it off completely. Hmmm. Oh, life's tough choices. Fuck, my life is a joke. Har Har.

What can I get for 10$? Everything you want! What can I get for 10$? Anything you want! Hey Hey Hey Hey Oh Oh Hey Hey Hey Hey.




359 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Bamboo Banga

In 49 days, I will not have a single care in the world. I'll sunbathe, and drink pina coladas, and draw the tropical creatures around me. But today, I need to focus hard on remembering to swallow a little pill. It's sounds so simple, right? Oh, fuck off.

49 days, 49 days, 49 days. The countdown has become my mantra. (The sole reason I am exercising and putting some effort in completing overdue english assignments.) And, guess what? Tomorrow will be 48!

280 hit(s) (4 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Rain, rain, go away
Listening to: amy winehouse

I awoke to unwanted thoughts orbiting my mind. Sad, unwanted thoughts, to match the sad, unwanted weather outside.

I'm making angry and bitter faces at the sky, for breaking my happiness streak that lasted three weeks. I'm waiting for the flooding to subside so I can buy cigarettes. I'm waiting for my lover's car to drive through the alley outside my window. For him to arrive and yell at me to finish my essay on Rorschach.

God, this is stupid. I can easily make myself feel better. I can easily get through this.




This is nice, and made me smile.

302 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Sense of pleasure, sense of anger

Let me know I am alive. Strip down and witness grace.

Let's count our senses. (Five!)

Feel yours. Erected and wet.

Smell this. Perfume and sweat.

I see you, boy, and you see my chest.

Taste it. Bitter and salty.

Simultaneous moan never misunderstood,

pull in closer, and whisper again, softly.

I was in the mood to translate the love we made into something crude.

My boy is such a darling, he went out to pick up my medication. In the rain! Just so I can work on my homework, and instead I'm writing ugly lines and doing what I do best. Bitching! ...

A simple hello via facebook does not rekindle the friendship we once had. But of course you take advantage of the fact that I am the only person who has spoken to you in days. And now, you burden me with your silly problems. Fuck.


297 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Closure? Progress?

I haven't been home in a week, and was a bit surprised when the mild feeling of homesickness creeped up on me. And furthermore, I was completely caught off guard when it prevented me from working properly today and partying like the riot I really am (ahaha).

But here I am now, back in my stinky room, with many bags of dirty laundry, and my orchid plant slouching courtesy of my neglect.

Hmm, what else?...

I've been a lot happier ever since I was diagnosed with bipolar II. I guess a diagnosis was needed in order to get some closure, now I feel I can finally move on and work on it. I've been making some impressive progress in therapy, as well. The sessions have developed from pointless whining on my part and useless notes she adds to my chart to psychoanalysis and more interesting discussions about my abnormal state of mind. I've been taking my medication seriously, too. I've stopped drinking entirely, and take them every night, instead of taking them only when I'm consuming ridiculous amounts of alcohol.

That's it I guess, I could brag all day about how well everything is going, but don't want to jinx it.

290 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
This will be gone tomorrrow, but probably not resolved

Tonight, I feel deflated.

(Confront it and talk. Dig. Expand.)

But I really, really just want to suck on an ice cube, to soothe the sores in my mouth, and then, go to bed. And that's what I'll do, right after this is bluntly written.

List of people I would like to say "fuck you" to:


my boss

customers who make fun of my french

those two girls in science class

zinette (ryan's aunt)

i am surprised at my mother's absence from the list.

331 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Despite what all his studies had shown
Listening to: andrew bird- imitosis

I really need to sneeze.


Edit: une petite pensée qui n'est pas assez puissante de m'emprisonner, mais qui continue de m'agacer légèrement.

Edit 2: I`ve been really selective with the information I choose to disclose to my therapist. Last Wednesday, I realised I still had not told her about my engagement. I've also kept a lot of really personal, scary, embarrassing stories from her. I need to spill my guts out to someone, and it should be her. She's payed for it, right? Also, I really like her, mostly because my first impression of her was completely off. She is a very intelligent woman, and purposely doesn't show it. I like people who play dumber than they actually are. Maybe because I tend to do that, too.

I realised that in attempt to stay positive, I push my negative thoughts aside without confronting them. And when everything surfaces, I do not know what to do. It has caused me to not be in tune with how I feel. At all. And so, instead of feeling optimistic, I just feel like a tense, delusional psycho.

Anyways, I was promoted at work. Only after two months. I'm now, Chef de l'équipe. If it were not for the customers and this raise, I would have left. There`s this new girl who I really want to strangle. She's seventeen, and acts like she's fucking twelve. She wants to be fed compliments, all the time. She told me that if she was pretty, she would be a stripper. Hint Hint. I had to bite my tongue. Literally. I tasted blood. But I really wanted to tell her that she looked like a Cabbage Patch Kid fuck up. (I fucking swear, she does!) She continued this for another five minutes, until I finally said go ahead and don't worry, ugly people can still be strippers, give me your two weeks notice when you're ready to leave.

Unfortunately, my manager forced me to apologize at the end of my shift.

In other news, I finally figured what I want to study. Next year, I'm going to get my missing sciences and get all my gym, french, humanities and english out of the way. Then, I'll apply for Nursing fall 2010 at Vanier. If I get in, I'll be finished by 2013. (I'll be 22) And I could work as a nurse in the Douglas Mental hospital, while I finish my bachelors. And because I did the three-year-program in Cegep it will only take me two years of University (I'll have my bachelors by 24). This way I save a lot of money (a semester in cegep is 150-200$ versus 2000$ in university), and I'm just as qualified as a nurse who did four years of university.

If I don't get accepted, I'll register to finish my Arts and Culture D.E.C at Dawson. (Done at 20) And apply at Concordia in Psychology. And I'll be done with that by the time I'm 24, too. I'm fortunate that I skipped a year when I was in elementary. I already fucked up one semester, and took a leave of absence for the other. So because I started a year earlier, I am not stressing too much about those past fuck ups. I just need to stay driven the next few years.

Edit 3- I just found out that if I have all my cegep courses out of the way, I can do the Nursing program in two years as an intensive at John Abbott College. Excellent.

318 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Life is

Looking at the city from a bird's eye view. Putting a t-shirt on right after the dry cycle. Wearing a dress and feeling that refreshing breeze during the summer's heat. Taking my socks off at the end of a long day. Finding shade after spending too much time under the sun. Curry dishes. And then, drinking milk to cool my tongue down. Haagen-Dazs, chocolate and almond covered ice cream on a stick. Old couples who feed birds in parks. Tearing a piece of paper in half, quickly and straightly. Hearing the echo of my fingers cracking in a quiet room. A cigarette when I've overstress myself to the point that I have forgotten to breathe. Poutine at three a.m. Taking a nap when I have horrible menstrual cramps, and waking up, hours later, feeling relieved and revived. Making love on a rocking chair. Falling asleep on that rocking chair while my lover fingers my curls. Squishing tomatoes with my hands. Rubbing and caressing cold skin. Caffee au lait in the mornings, in the afternoons and late at night. Taking a bath while eating grapes.

346 hit(s) (3 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Vent and Flatter

Girl, you're a fucking idiot. Wake the fuck up, I cannot even pity you because I am too busy being repulsed. It's not like you deserve my sympathy, anyways.

I do not have the patience to deal with people anymore, and this poses quite the problem. How am I supposed to become a therapist if I cant stand my clients. I am a lot more interested in the biology of the brain. I am thinking of becoming a psychiatrist versus a psychologist. But that requires med school, and fuck, things are too unsteady in my life for me to go through with that. Not to mention that I am almost certain I couldn't get in, anyways.. When I brought this up to my therapist, she told me it was up to me to decide, and I was kind of disappointed because I was depending on her to tell me what to do. She did, however, let me know that her job gets extremely depressing with certain patients, and it's very uplifting to have someone like me pass by. She also said if she was my age, she would have put a lot of effort in trying to befriend me. Which is kind of creepy, but I took it as a genuinely nice comment.

253 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
I'll be just fine

News (gossip, actually) travels faster than a case of crabs being spread amongst a group of street punks. (And according to my new homeless friend, James, that is saying something!)

As they take interest in another person's dilemma, and comment on the evident deterioration of her mind, I thought of myself, of course.

I would be a horrible alcoholic. Not because I am a nasty or a mean drunk. No, it's the commitment to alcohol that completely turns me off. The reason I am not a lush is because the thought of drinking on a daily basis sounds too repetitive and dull to me. I couldn't play the role. I have come close to dependency, but the ride was too long. Out of boredom, I jumped off that train before it crashed and burned.

I cannot stand it when there is nothing to do, and yet, I can't seem to shake that feeling of dullness off. The average person entertains me for five minutes. If you are lucky, you hold my attention for fifteen. I even bore myself. Me! I am my favorite person. But I become restless and crave change constantly. Tired of my actions, my thoughts, my beliefs, my words and that is why they are never set in stone. I am on this never-ending mission to spice things up a notch. No, correction, I am on a never-ending mission to find a new me, and new things to fit in well with the new person I create.

I think of synonyms for the word "bored". Disinterested. Fatigued. I scratch out anything that might offend anyone, and then share this new realization with my friends.

They sit quietly, as I obviously struggle to express my thoughts. They sit, stare and laugh at my mispronunciation of words, they laugh at my slight Greek accent that comes out of nowhere when I speak quickly.

Mason looks at me with his wide koala eyes. With the same nonchalant expression he always wears. Sean opens his mouth to say something, but at the last moment refrains himself. His white, perfect teeth are exposed, and they contrast with his dark skin and his scruffy facial hair. Michael responds, but I ignore him. I am not in the mood for his smart-ass remarks. He continues to speak, unfortunately. He tries to get my attention by spitting something harsh. I get back at him by erecting my right leg so that my foot is leveled to his nose, and he is forced to smell it. Truce.

Back to talking.

"I think there is an exception to this rule, Cristina," Michael says.

"Yeah? Tell me what it is."

"What are you doing, tonight?"

And I understand what he means. I answer the question and pretend there is no link between this and his first comment.

"I am supposed to meet Ryan." But I add that I am not in the mood. I act cool and show no emotions. I hide how excited I really am to see him. I command my heart to stop beating so fast at the mention of his name. I also feel disappointed because my weakness is so obvious. I should have done a better job at masking it. All three of them can read me well, they don't buy any of it.

Honestly, I don't understand how it is possible that I still remain interested in Ryan. How I gave the rest of my life to him, impresses me. Knowing me, it doesn't really make sense, and I'm not going to bother trying to decode, understand or analyze it. He is my rock, the one thing in my life that is solid, strong and permanent.

I will never have sex with anyone else. He is my first and my last. That thought should terrify me, but the prospect of forever with him sounds so nice. Fuck the manic changes I go through, he will always stay constant. Fuck the identity crises, as long as he is still with me when we're old, swaying away in his rocking chair besides me, I'll be just fine.

290 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
The soft parade

All our lives we sweat and save, building for a shallow grave

Must be something else we say, somehow to defend this place

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Feet in the air
Listening to: pixies

I've gone blank. I am here and there, and the days pass, slowly blending in to one another.

I am a lot dryer. Quietly laughing at the things I once took so seriously. I keep things to my own private self and am, generally, enjoying my own company. It could also be the beginning of my pride denying my loneliness. But I am almost certain it is not.

I might be a lot colder to some, but those who are worthy still get that bright, smiling, charming ol' Cristina.

Oh, and I would like to get my hands on some good weed. That would be excellent. I should put that on the top of my to-do list.

309 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Somewhere in between

i am not disappointed with the way i spent my day, but not exactly pleased. i should have taken advantage of the weather.

i'm making plans with sean. and i am happy about that. coffee at eva b's, biodome, and walking around the mountain.

he asked me why, besides sara, i do not have any close female friends. and i went on, ranting about how frivolous girls can be. fuck, i don't need to be pressured by their ridiculous expectations.

i mean, i do have girl friends and i hang out with them, but it is obvious that i create a wall, and leave the relationship hanging at an acquaintance status. at a certain proximity, i push them away.

i don't know why i bothered mentioning this. maybe, because my therapist asked the same question last week, and i am not completely satisfied with my answer. maybe.

these days, uncertainty is the prominent feeling. i am often doubtful. i can't tell what my intentions are, or what the emotions that began to surface really mean. i am mostly used to clinging onto an extreme (behavior, reactions), when i find myself in between, i also find myself in a state of confusion.


edit- i remember why i mentioned friends in the first place. i wanted to talk about my new friend at work! he is a seventy-three year old immigrant from poland. and i adore him. he comes in for a half a cup of coffee, half a cup of water and a donut (either, apple, strawberry or raspberry filled) everyday. and whenever he sees me, he lights up and smiles enthusiastically. he always comes around my lunch break, so i've started sitting with him and talking to him. he tells me stories with the same excitement he usually reserves for eating his donut. if i had to choose, i would pick to hang out with this man, over getting trashed with most my friends. he entertains me on a completely different level and at the same time, i learn from all his experiences.

320 hit(s) (6 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
A habit-forming need for more and more.
Listening to: synchronicity- the police

Like I mentioned in the last entry, I am doing well.

This week went by fast, and that's how I like it. The sooner this month is over, the better. I've placed my large winter sweaters in a cardboard box, ready to be stored away.

Yesterday, Ryan brought me to check out the condo he bought. It really is wonderful. Located in the heart of downtown, on Rene-Levesque, in between St-Mark's and St-Matthieu's. We get our own private section on the roof, and the view is absolutely spectacular.

Hmm, what else. School is easy, and I am adored at work. Customers ask for me. It's kind of funny. Friends are great. Meds are kicking in. I should add more weed and art into my life. Maybe even some exercise.

My intention is not to update you on my life. No, I just want to prove to myself that I should be feeling great. I'm not too sure if I'm trying to convince myself of a feeling or, in reality, things are actually going smoothly. I guess, we'll see.

306 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
A whole lot of nothing

i am listening to black star by radiohead. i truly love this song. i feel at ease and somewhat relieved. from what, i am not quite sure. the memory of the last time i heard this song pokes my mind.

i was in bed. my seven year old sister came into my room, claiming to have heard a weird crick crock sound coming from outside her bedroom window. she recreated the sound and particularly emphasized the crock, dragging the "o" for a few seconds. i agreed to let her sleep in my bed as long as she gave me the snack sized box of fruit loops she was hiding in her closet. deal. although she is half the size of a regular seven year old, she snores impressively loud. her breathing aggressively interrupted my thoughts. so i decided to pinch her nose shut. i did not do this because i was trying to fall asleep and she was disturbing me, but because i was very bored and restless, and felt it was unfair that she was sound asleep beside me. as i kept her nose hostage, she was forced to breathe from her mouth. she also twitched her head and tried to pull away from my fingers clamped onto her nose. when she sleepily realized she could not, she threw her arm up and accidentally poked me in the eye. as i layed there crying from my left eye, she began to snore again and black star began to play from my computer's speakers.

there is absolutely no connection between how i currently feel and this story. just in case you were wondering.

i think i came on here to talk about the creep in my physics class. but i can't remember now. anyways, while i'm on the subject, i'll talk about him. to be honest, i don't have a concrete reason to call him a creep. he's just overly friendly, and i hate it when people try to approach me. mostly because i don't see how others can find me interesting or appealing. and he is so annoying, persistently nagging me about when i will go study with him. hello? buddy, are you serious? our next exam is in two weeks. who fucking studies two weeks in advance, fuck, this shit is so easy, a quick scan the morning of the test would suffice.

so, i'll meet you at four, tomorrow?

say, no! sure

obviously, he is using studying as an excuse, but then again, i don't want to flatter myself. maybe, he is just a very studious boy with good intentions. eghh. i keep on making mental notes to mention my boyfriend, but i always forget. i actually had an amazing opportunity to slip ryan into the conversation we were having today, but i fucking got distracted by some kid who lit his cigarette indoors.

oh, by the way, i am feeling very well and sane this week. a bit scattered, but generally in good shape.

also, i firmly believe that one of the best feelings in the world is taking off my socks at the end of a long day. and one of the worst stenches in the world is the one the people in my socks' proximity will take in seconds later.

maybe, i should make this guy smell my feet.

i am a glamorous woman, i know.

297 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: fire it up-modest mouse

he asked you to study with him this thursday?! sounds like a sexual predator, if i've ever heard of one.

sara would say


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Monotonous regularity

tonight is supposed to be intense. i have a new leopard print high-waisted skirt, two bottles of vodka and cranberry juice that affirm it.

but i am very tempted to call everything off, stay in my worn out pants with the giant hole on the lower left butt cheek (easy access!), and take some lovely swigs of straight vodka right here, on my bed. my bed, that reeks of sweat, and beer, and ash.

it disturbs my stomach when i think of the comfort these odors bring me. and you, my olfactory sense has started to forget you. it's distant love and now, a symbol. a vague dream i had a long time ago.

305 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

you are so blind. Even Jesus couldn't save you.


life is okay. i'm loved, wanted and needed, i really can't complain.

from time to time, i should shut up and play mute instead.

Allez, venez, milord!

Vous asseoir a ma table

Il fait si froid dehors

Ici c'est comfortable

Laissez-vous faire, milord!

Et prenez bien vos aises

Vos peines sur mon coeur

Et vos pieds sur une chaise

Je vous connais, milord!

Vous ne m'avez jamais vue

Je suis qu'une fille du port

Qu'un ombre dans la rue

298 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
A parasite, like a smoker asking for a light
Listening to: bob marley- mr.brown


Flush. Flush. Flush.

The constant sound of toilets flushing makes me feel weak and sleepy. I wish I had the energy to flush fear out of my system. I am also reminded of my high school years, when I would hide in a bathroom stall in order to avoid a fussy teacher, a nagging friend, or simply, when I was too stoned and paranoid to walk amongst other students. This time, these four walls do not protect me from what I fear confronting. I do not know what led to me feeling this way. Looking back a month ago, I was doing fantastically well. I could dismiss all this and blame post menstrual sensitivity and exhaustion, but I know I shouldn’t.

I’ve been a little lab rat, to both my therapist and doctor. I’ve escaped from my cage that enclosed me from the rest of the world. The city’s franticness makes me feel insignificant and small. I don’t need to swallow a new pill on an hourly basis to remind me that my body and mind are slowly deteriorating. Really. I would much rather leach onto a cigarette and live comfortably with the illusion of immortality, but I know I shouldn’t.



I know what I should do. Why I am lying on my bed, starved and drunk, is beyond me. I can’t tell how much of this bullshit is my sick, masochistic mind and how much of it is the fear of growing into something out of my comfort zone. I’ve been complaining, exaggerating, dissecting since I was ten. This is how I cope with life. I satisfy my ego, protect it, and I do a swell job at that, may I add. I do not know how to live differently. I certainly do know what to do in order to help me from myself, but I consciously choose to mope and stay miserable. Impulsively lashing out to keep things the way they are. An insane urge to destroy anything beautiful, the same urge that drives me to bite my fingernails off when they are long, painted and lady-like.

Instead of completing my cognitive therapy papers, reading, exercising or creating something with my drawing skills, I sit here and hold the pendant that hangs around my neck, closer to my chest. Pressing on it, as if this will ward off my evil demons.

303 hit(s) (4 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: tangerine- led zeppelin

i should have went out. it's only a quarter to eight, there is still plenty of time, but i've settled on my bed and i know i wont have the strength to get up.

i miss my long hair, i miss having more money and of course, i miss summer. the smell of it, and the green grass, and being able to wear a dress!

i also, miss the freedom that comes with being healthy. mentally and physically. every two hours i'm popping a new pill. i feel very much like a guinea pig, returning to my doctor's office every week, with a whole new list of symptoms. i despise it. i'm still bleeding excessively. my iron is lowering and it's the main cause of my current weakness. i'll blame my lack of will on my deficiency, too.


327 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Walk,walk,walk. four more blocks, plus the one in my brain
Listening to: radiohead

so, this is how it went down.

wake up. train at 5:30. work at 6:00, done at 1:00. eat. metro. walk. doctor's appointment. prescribed more drugs, emergency medication to stop the extreme menstrual bleeding. and a new birth control pill. she was also disappointed because i only take my anti depressants whenever i am drinking. and i am a complete idiot for confessing it. run across to my therapist appointment, didn't have much to say. realized and mentioned how appropriate it is that the first letter of each word in seasonal affective disorder spells s-a-d. she told me everyone knows that and changed the subject. after we were done, i remembered a whole list of things i wanted to say. of course, it always works like that. metro. walk. bank machine. broke. went to bank and took out 100 dollars from my savings. pharmacy. the emergency medication cost me 58$ because i'm no longer on my mom's insurance. got a pamphlet to register under quebec's insurance. the pharmacist (who also, knows my name) told me i could be reimbursed within the next seven days. 70% of the amount back. (and that's why i love you, canada.) go to alexis nihon. eat supper. buy school books. go to class.made a new friend. overall enjoyed my lecture. on the train ride home, i noticed that i had eight different bottles of medication in my purse, not including my vitamins, advil and midol. whatever, my coworker has to put plastic gloves on every time she eats her food with her hands (fries, sandwiches, etc). i rather be a paranoid hypochondriac than a paranoid germophobe.

now, i am happy to be home, wrapped around my blanket, wearing ryan's sweater. this is how things have been rolling along the past few days, with a minimal amount of caffeine and nicotine. i'm a fucking superstar.

i am too busy to write full sentences. obviously.

307 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Girl, put your records on
Listening to: joy division- love will tear us apart

although it does not have my fixed attention, i am still eying it. i notice it jerk, toss and turn in its elmo blanket. and i cannot understand how something that moves so abruptly and sharply can also be so delicate and fragile. new borns have absolutely no fluidity. they develop it while they mature into toddlers. their actions become slightly more gracious and coordinated.

i am certain that, for some reason, i completely skipped that part while i was growing up. my motions are spasmodic, i twitch constantly and am a huge klutz. i walk strangely, drag my feet and i'll trip over anything. i move without charm or elegance. i wish that was the end of it, but it seems that in my head, my thoughts travel in a similar fashion. they stumble and trip over one an other. they yell loudly. they clumsily tango with each other and create a scrambled mess up there. the only way to decipher a thought from another is to say it out loud (to myself) or to write it down. my head ain't no place to think, so i'll write until i've run out of ink.

[enters rant]

i am sick of it, though. sick of the way my thoughts are formulated. i am sick of constructing false situations in which i place myself. tired of fantasizing and dreaming of something more exciting. and sick of my thoughts that never move forward. tired of thinking so one dimensionally. i exhaust myself. tired of this silly obsession with scribbling everything down. i want to think of anything else other than myself, and consequently write about other things, as well.

and i absolutely despise this need to vent, and having a things-that-make-me-sick list. i am also, tired of being such a bitch.

and it's with this nauseating feeling, that i decided that no matter what kind of funk i find myself in this summer, i will travel, anyways. i really ache for the experience and independence. i want to plan it as i go, and to be spontaneous. i feel that it might help quench my insatiable thirst for knowledge, and will also, help me grow into something more graceful (i don't know why associate wisdom with grace).

i absolutely refuse to barricade myself.

330 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Can you spare sunshine for a brother, old man winter's in the air

Simplicity is all that I asked for, and a simple solution is what I got.

A numb-dumb cristina. I’ve been dancing the robot this week.

Punch in, punch out (check the fruit, fruit’s expired. count the hours until you retire). Sunrise, sunset. Dayquil, Nyquil (waiting, patiently, for sedation).

My thoughts have always been clumsily put together. Always stumbling on one another, but these last two weeks, I can’t get anything down. I feel disconnected from all my senses.

I have not been to therapy in three weeks, I don’t remember the last time I took my medication, and this three-day-fever has drained every positive thought right out of my system. I still go to work. Although, I feel like shit, I continue with my routine.

I crashed today, and asked for the day off. I’m resting cosily by my man’s side. A little love rushing through my veins is all I needed to get back on track. I have an appointment next week with both, my doctor and therapist. I bought my effexor, the dosage is tripled (although I hate to admit this will help me. pride, you see). The temperature will be very low the next couple of days, but I could deal with that, as long as the weatherman continues to announce sunshine in the forecast.

It took me so long to get to the top, and notice, how long I stayed there. I need to accept the fact that I’ll slip from time to time. But you see, I’ve been up there before, and now know a shorter route up. One less strenuous, but just as healthy. You’ll see, shortly, I’ll be high up there again. I am ready to balance my life.

297 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

i had a good day. woke up to my sister, helene, jumping on my bed. asked me to go downtown with her. got ready quickly, decided i looked decent and jumped in the car. stopped for coffee. back on the road, parked at eddie's, walked several blocks to get to place bonaventure. end up at salon marrions-nous? got ignored by most sales people because we wore our funny animal hats and mittens, and definitely did not look like future brides. looked around for few free samples and other free stuff. didn't find much. enter some draws to win items and vacations. after realizing how much hullabaloo people go through for one day, i was even more confident in my decision to elope with ryan. drove to the west of the island. ate brunch. went across to fairview and shopped with my christmas money and gift cards. satisfied with my purchases. drove on to angie's house. sipped tea by the fire and she spoke of her rather painful and disgusting experience giving birth. decided if i ever choose to have children, they will be adopted. she tried to convince me otherwise, for an hour, but i am hard headed and stuck to my decision. drove back home where my mom made a huge supper. my cousins and aunt were over. a small farewell party for my cousin pandelis who's leaving for kansas city on tuesday. endured a superficial speech from melanie about school, money and work. ate desert while watching benny and joon. and now i'm online.

i got an email from ryan's uncle and it made me giggle, not because the content is that funny, but because he sends me emails and i find it absolutely adorable. this is it:

The Official Canadian Temperature Conversion Chart

50° Fahrenheit (10° C)

Californians shiver uncontrollably.

Canadians plant gardens.

35° Fahrenheit (1.6° C)

Italian Cars won't start

Canadians drive with the windows down

32° Fahrenheit (0 ° C)

American water freezes

Canadian water gets thicker.

0° Fahrenheit (-17.9° C)

New York City landlords finally turn on the heat.

Canadians have the last cookout of the season.

-60° Fahrenheit (-51° C)

Mt. St. Helens freezes.

Canadian Girl Guides sell cookies door-to-door.

-100° Fahrenheit (-73° C)

Santa Claus abandons the North Pole.

Canadians pull down their ear flaps.

-173° Fahrenheit (-114° C)

Ethyl alcohol Freezes.

Canadians get frustrated when they can't thaw the


-460° Fahrenheit (-273° C)

Absolute zero; all atomic motion stops.

Canadians start saying "cold, eh?"

-500° Fahrenheit (-295° C)

Hell freezes over.

The Toronto Maple Leafs win the Stanley Cup

294 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

i just swallowed some of my vomit; a mixture of ferrero rocher and orange jus.

i am sick of this. sick, sick, sick.


255 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

i'm a week late.

and i'm laughing about it.


i need to do something exhilarating. i am bored of this routine.

work. eat. sleep. panic. repeat.

besides greek christmas, there was absolutely nothing interesting about this past week. also, i realised that i am in fact two weeks late, not one.

i'm waiting for the hysteria to wear off. there might be an alien-like creature growing inside of me. there might be an alien-like creature growing inside of me! in my head, when i try to picture the fetus in the womb, i always make it look more terrorizing than it should be. usually there's green goo surrounding it and it has a pair of monster fangs and what not. it's probably because of the horror i associate with being pregnant.

i am still laughing about it. really. i am a fucking nut. that's all. i need sleep and, for the first time in three months, i am really missing the numbing effects of codeine.



sean says: come to the danny rebel show at the pound, tonight

cristina says: i'm too busy eating donuts and playing solitaire

sean says: solitaire? you mean watching porn. anyways, either way, you're lame. i haven't seen you in a week, fuck. come out it'll be sick.

cristina says: but it's she-man porn! no, seriously, i'm exhausted from working a nine hour shift and waking up at five. i might pass by tomorrow.

i probably won't pass by tomorrow. a full day of sleep sounds so delightful.

also, i realised i stiffed four people today. i was supposed to go out with genia for her birthday, and go to clydes with victoria, aaannd have supper with ryan and his parents.

331 hit(s) (8 comments) | Erotic Polititians  


shut up, you.

305 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

no one carries your definition of a friend. and in our case, the friendship was never mutual. i always sacrificed a bit more than you did, worked harder in order to keep it fresh. you quoted me out of context and twisted my words when you knew my intentions were never malicious. and yet you burdened me with your egotistical, self-centered ramblings and complaints. you were inconsiderate, spoiled, dishonest, selfish, mean and neglected your role as a friend.

i do not understand how i forgive so easily. a drunken slow dance to All Apologies should not make up for the two years of hell you put me through. i am too tired of holding on to hate, anger, bitterness and envy. i want to free myself of everything negative and anything too heavy to handle.

(a light mind, not soft, but weightless. and i swear, i really feel it this time.)

261 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
The piano has been drinking, not me

i want to write. something has been tickling my mind, lately. i am struggling to express what i need to, though.

i am very tempted to open the bottle of gallo in the fridge. i should be able to listen to tom waits without feeling the need to become that person i was. without feeling the need to self-destruct.

that alarm i spoke of in the last entry seems to have taken a day off. but my actions are still undone, i am just very bored, very cold and very lonely. and i know alcohol would help with all these symptoms.

maybe, i'll go make some tea, instead. yes. i'll also switch song (tonight, we're gonna give it 35% just started to play. oh, fuck), i shouldn't let music affect me the way it does.

285 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: amy winehouse- amy, amy, amy

i'm having a bad day.

things will perk up, i know. i'm just kind of unmotivated to go out, right now. fuck quebec, and its manic weather.


i have this new alarm that settled inside of me, it rings viciously when i am about to make a wrong decision. yesterday, i could have stayed and taken, with open arms, the pleasure that my loneliness brings. but instead of moping and feeling sorry for myself, i forced myself to go out. i, also, realised that i haven't drank by myself in a long time. a month? it was a horrible habit and i did not even realise that i put an end to it. it just happened. things, in general, are just starting to fall into place.

272 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Tonight, I was completely caught off guard.

A quarter carat diamond pendant in order to make the engagement official.


i have always seen my future with you and you know what? you make me want to be a mother, and that frightens me. with you i'd want to behave like a good house wife, and that is very unlike me.

that is really sweet, but i shot gun to be the stay at home parent! my ocd will leave us with a clean house, and i'll get to work on my cooking! there is no need to be afraid, babe.

288 hit(s) (5 comments) | Erotic Polititians  


click on virtual tour.

there is an extra room they did not include. an office. the place is so pricey but pretty! i've almost convinced ryan into buying it. its location is ideal! i am getting way too ahead of myself, looking at furniture that will match and thinking about the tea pot set, the plates, the utensils, the pretty multi colored pitcher, coffee mugs and champagne glasses i will steal from my mom. i am excited about this.

oh man, fuck. this is so unlike me. i saw myself moving out into some sketchy neighborhood with ghetto appliances and a greasy haired neighbor with his white-trash-lard-ass girlfriend constantly cussing at him while she rocks their crack baby in her arms. oh well, i guess i've got to let some dreams go and settle for this. ahaha.

in other news, i have started to donate 20 dollars a month to green peace.

319 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

in a way that was not perverse, a customer lets me know that he comes back, day after day, only to see me smile while i serve him.

my coworker tells me that the tips have been better ever since i started working. she says i give out positive vibes.

there are many things that factored in my mental breakdown this fall and the depression i went through in 2007. work, lack of a social life, then developing social anxiety, drug abuse, sobriety, bulimia, fights with siblings and parents and not being able to cope with any of the above problems. fleeing and denying are my two favorite defense mechanisms. they protect my obese ego, but put me in a dangerous situation. out of fear, i ran away from love when it was the only thing i had. i looked for happiness but refused to go through the long and healthy way. instead i took a shortcut and turned to the bottle and retail therapy. numbly telling myself i was satisfied. a part of me began to believe it, as well. i would write in my journal, enumerate all my small and insignificant accomplishments (they were nothing to be proud of) and convince myself of a feeling that did not exist. i wanted to brag and brag, to no one else but myself. time and time again, i tripped over that wire-thin line that separates enlightenment from carelessness.

i could safely say that today, i am content. i write with the sole purpose of advising the cristina of the future. warning her. letting her know of the mistakes she made and the ones she did not. reminding her to beware of certain bereavements, but to also take some risks in order to avoid a structured and boring life. to make the most out of this, whatever it may be.


babe, there's nothing I'd like more, right now, than to be your wife.

295 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: bedouin soundclash -jeb rand

you know those christmas tree shaped plastic containers of ferrero rocher? well, i just finished eating one.

while i devoured the delicious balls of bliss, i was also thinking of my new years resolution. exercise, eat less, quit smoking and embrace my creativity?

these are promises i make to myself on a weekly basis and they've become so cliche.

in the end, i decided that i wouldn't have one. i just hope that in 2009 i will continue to progress at the same rate i am currently advancing. i went through so much this year and i feel it has made me a stronger person. it has helped me define myself and has helped me gravitate towards something bigger and greater.


edit: i am hungry and have absolutely no reason to be. i am forcing myself to go to bed soon because there is a box of cookies that has been yelling out to me for the past ten minutes. unless i go to sleep, they will be gone shortly. also, if i slouch and stick out my beer belly the right way, i look four months pregnant. i've been walking around like that while rubbing my tummy, i especially do it in ryan's presence and he get's so annoyed/embarrassed. it's fucking funny.

edit 2: the box is gone. oh yeah, carbs and cholesterol! also, this song is so good. i'd like it to be the first song i learn how to play on guitar.

266 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: bran van 3000

regardless of the horrible, freezing cold weather and all the traveling i do in it, i am feeling fantastic.

ryan is looking at buying a condo with the money he inherited from his father. i've been checking out places with him, writing while he plays guitar, listening to his dad's old miles davis c.d's, sleeping over his place, waking up to morning kisses and breakfast in bed. and i love it all. i can no longer fucking wait until we live in that condo together.

335 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: hole-miss world

i've been dreaming about donuts, coffees, cash registers. i hate when i have work related dreams. it's a fucking rip-off. WHY DIDN'T MY SUBCONSCIOUS CHOOSE TO EXPLORE SOMETHING MORE PLEASANT!

also, every time i try to post a new entry, my computer shuts down. if this is a success, i'm letting you know this is my sixth attempt.

i had more things to say, but i don't really care anymore.

321 hit(s) (3 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
A papillon parade
Listening to: andrew bird

i would like, for once, to be burdened by something less trivial.

hmm, i was caught off guard by loneliness. and my fiancee (i am leaving the typo because he is my bitch) is caught up in the end-of-semester chaos. i don't want to distract him with this.

this is a test, that is all. what will i do! what will i do?

vodka. yes? (it is raspberry flavored, oh my fucking god)


maybe, i depend on his presence too much.

342 hit(s) (4 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
July 2008/November 2008
Listening to: sam roberts band

In this proximity, on his neck, I see a wave beneath his skin travel upwards every time the left side of his chest hops. The soothing post orgasmic feelings are gone and although I should be exhausted, my eyelids do not shut. I am in need of nicotine but instead, I stay put. In this angle, he is beautiful. He always is. Maybe, I'll grow the nerves to tell him one day.

Tangled in a web of sheets, arms and legs, I observe the room out of boredom, not curiosity. An instrument made of wood and wire rests on brick, a dried rose pokes out of a vodka bottle and a creepy-crawler followed by its huge shadow duplicate. There is nothing to these observations, just a written recreation of what my eyes record. There is a vein that is particularly pronounced on my right breast. It becomes a clearer blue once it passes my nipple. I try to follow its path, but his arm wrapped around my body does not permit me.

Finally, he shifts his body, turns on his side and faces the wall. I am free! I tiptoe, then float across the room to my purse. An easy access to heaven pressed between my lips. Quiet. Quiet. Wrap a robe around my body and find escape in my last cigarette.

Only in the crisp night air, I realize how badly I would like to be back inside, asleep in his arms. Why do I hesitate to show affection? Why am I afraid to accept the love I feel for him? To let him know that my world is centered around him. I create a strong wall and make sure no one can penetrate it.

Des mois après. Déjà Vu. Des images que je reconnaitre.

I am tangled, again. Instead, there are knots in my brain. I observe the room, and this time, take the time to let everything sink in. An instrument made of wood and wire rests on brick, a dried rose pokes out of a vodka bottle and a creepy-crawler followed by its huge shadow duplicate.

The probability of life, this large number keeps me thinking, tonight. I am disappointed in the direction I have steered my life. I was caught up in some nonsensical, superficial hullabaloo.

But three words overwhelm me with the feelings of privilege and gratefulness.

I am alive.

The man I adore will come upstairs, soon enough. I will take a breath and will tell him how madly in love I am. Will lend him my eyes so that he may understand how I perceive him. He is wonderful, to me. Then, I will make love to him and involve my five senses into the action. I will fall asleep in his embrace that warms my body, soul and mind.

283 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Train of thoughts
Listening to: the pixies

Vices hide behind the irises of my jaundiced eyes. Ones I proudly locked in my mind. Oh, time for confessions.

Four diaries, and in each one, I play a new role. I am terrified of developing multi personality disorder. Tick, tock. It's been a while you've got insanity jitterbugging with your soul. It's too late? Perhaps.

I speak out loud in public, I burst into a loud maniacal laughter sometimes. Only sometimes. During the night, when I've grown tired of denying the cuckoo that sings such beautiful lullabies. Sedate me. And Hush.

Fears will never be drained out of my system. I've washed away anger and pain, but these panic filled thoughts linger around.

I never wanted to be loved by a man. In life that is all people search for, but I never wanted it. I was fascinated and enamored with my own my mind, and took the time to notice others only when my vagina yelled out. I was lustful but neglected myself anyways. My womanly body parts were never silenced. And then by a complete fluke, I met you. I still do not why I threw caution to the wind and went for it. The unfamiliarity of the experience had me trembling with terror. I wished, for the longest time, that our love would turn stale. Others turn to magazines and self help books in order to keep their relationships alive, fresh, to avoid it ever becoming stagnant and mundane. And here I was, on my knees, praying to a God I don't even believe to, pleading for this feeling to go away.

And while this was going on, I continued the persistent search for myself. I know that I have a character and personality, but a zit has characteristics as well. It is greasy, dirty and usually reddened. Adjectives were not what I searched for. There was something more to it. Something I knew was burrowed inside of me, something that was tangible, something I could grasp, and was accessible to my knowledge.

I am still looking for my answers, but a good part of the missing puzzle was letting myself be loved by another, and loving that same person equally and unconditionally. I can't change who I am and insanity will constantly present itself in my life. Fear is never completely drained out of my system, but I found my long term drug. The only one who can provide the merest drop of comfort to sustain me.

I realized how drastically the tone has changed in this entry, from loony to calm and somewhat coherent. I started this entry out of boredom --my worst and most intolerable enemy-- and aggravation for the lack of lucidity in my life, and here I end it feeling absolutely tranquilized with the simple thought of one being.

300 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

on days like these, i wonder why i still live here.

i want the seasons to fly, and summer to arrive.

also, i want some weed cupcakes. i'd settle for plain cupcakes, too. i'm on my period and i need sweets!

i look like a mess, but that is because all that snow fall and the gray skies are making me tired, and my heart is still pounding from last week's pregnancy scare. bags sag under my eyes from the drunken and sleepless nights, my hair is untamed, my breasts are swollen, i look bloated and i have a pimple on my forehead. but i am too pleased with life to care about superficial nothings.

i think being engaged has finally driven me to improvement and self-love. i am motivated and i find that quite odd. yesterday, for example, i did not procrastinate, but found myself dealing with my adult affairs. i was making appointments, applying for credit cards, handing out my c.v and i even did my sister a favor and handled her registration problem at school. today, i did my laundry (five weeks worth), made more appointments, went to the bank and cleaned the kitchen.

i can't tell if this has anything to do with my manic mood swings. perhaps, tomorrow, i will not be able to get out of bed and so, i'm making the most out of this, and i am thankful that i have the energy today.

288 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
hey, thanks for stealing
Listening to: frank zappa

my virginity a year ago.

guess what?

i'm engaged! really. in a matter of an hour, i broke up with him, made love to him and proposed. we're planning on eloping (ha, oxymoron) sometime this summer. during our road trip across the country. until then, he'll be saving to buy a ring. i told him i don't need one, but he insists. i think it would crush his ego if he felt he couldn't propose the "traditional" way, but we're not big on traditions, so i don't see the point. oh well, i'll let him, i'll finally have something luxurious.

this is really unlike me. i opposed marriage for a long time, and never understood how it lured and appealed to so many young adults. but after my first year with ryan, i knew i would be with him the rest of my life. i tried to deny it, but that made life difficult. so i accepted it and decided to make it official.

you might be wondering how this will work since i broke up with him moments before i proposed. i didn't really break up with him. i suggested we pause our relationship because i was in shock by something he had confessed an hour prior. this is my typical reaction to honesty. in the five minutes that we were "broken up", i saw flashes of my life without him and it scared me, that led up to the proposal.

i have never been so sure about anything in my life. i do not depend on ryan completely. i am not needy or obsessive, life just makes sense when he is around. i love him, and will fight for him with all my remaining strength. in his presence, i am sedated and tranquilized in a way no drug can ever make me feel.

i have not been this happy in a really long time. i feel it and i can boast about it all day.


edit- i have done jack shit all day, but i am still floating high, above the clutter in my room and the stack of to-do-lists on my desk. hm, it is upsetting that i do not have anything to show for these feelings. productivity and creativity, i am patiently awaiting your return. i need to make that line between carelessness and joy more visible.

351 hit(s) (3 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

look up and smile, stranger.

live. love. record. create. inspire.

and if necessary, squeeze a bit of substance abuse into the mix.

386 hit(s) (8 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
So...ummm.. what do you do with your day?

blow. eat. cigarette break. comedy channel. fuck. sleep. breakfast in bed. "make love". cigarette break. read. eat. cigarette break. wine. nap. draw. fuck. eat. cigarette break.

School? Work? Pshh.

Nous embauchons!

There's always tomorrow. Right now, I barely have the time to put on some clothes.



I was thinking of quitting smoking. I will never come through with it, but it is a thought. I do not know what triggered it. Maybe it's the horrible throat ache, and the soreness I feel every time I swallow.

(How bout you lay off the deep throatin', slut?)

No, really, I am in severe pain. Egh, I am a victim to a malicious cold. I hate this sudden change in temperature. This dreadful weather.

Seasonal Affective Disorder. I am not ready for the cold! I only want to be nude and to find warmth in the embrace of my lover/muse. Oh, and hibernation, sleep is always wonderful. I'll wake when I feel confident enough to grow up, and to take responsibility for my poorly thought out actions.

But I guess I'll settle for what I have here. 75 mg of effexor, four beers, his sweater, a warm blanket and radiohead's soothing music.

330 hit(s) (3 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Ma vie est fantastique! Crois-le, tabarnak!

Mais, je dois arreter mes habitudes de gourmande!

274 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Three reasons for Adam to come visit me and montreal next summer:

3) If you're in the right place, marijuana is basically legal on Sundays. I swear, security and police patrol the grounds but all turn a blind eye to what is going on around them.

2) The amount of free and excellent music performances during the summer festivals.



You can't find her anywhere else....

314 hit(s) (4 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: m.i.a

I am trying to convince you because I desperately need to convince myself. My intentions are rarely noble.

325 hit(s) (5 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Insomnia 3

I'm leaving my house today. Going out into the real world to do what real people do (and that does not include contemplating becoming a cult leader).

And I was way excited about it until I remembered the reason I am taking the train to town is due to a therapy appointment.

Fuck my life. And bite me.


Because I can no long decipher between reality and a delusion.

I need nicotine. Terribly.

291 hit(s) (6 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Insomnia 2

my inner crazy is revealing itself. slowly. one. two. three.

fucking celebration. i really would love a bottle of wine. it's one a.m (what is up with my new fixation with time?), and i am afraid to swallow a pill. it gives me heart burn.

i'll compromise with you (although you're tiny and crushable and snortable). i can handle the emotional turbulence(i think? at this point does it even matter?) but fucking with my digestive system was not part of the deal!

and i really really ache for sleep. in case you cannot tell, i am in great need.

one. two. three.

318 hit(s) (3 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

it is unusual that there are no pens in sight. it is also unusual that the laptop sits on the bed. so here i am, at two thirty a.m. trying to spit some words, to satisfy the urge to sum the night. An attempt to, to, to [google mild apraxia].

when I find myself in this unlabeled state, I feel the need to enumerate.

actions. abreactions. emotions.

are all recorded. one after the other.

match. merci. light. inhale.

(exhaling comes naturally) lift your arm and tend to it. (a short journey to heaven looks so distant) reminder. inhale. inhale. drop and stomp, it meant nothing in the first place. never. never needed it.

reeking of ash and unpleasant odors, but all that i can sniff in the air is the stench of sex.

an old soul tied to another. an unwise decision. i cannot tell if yesterday's excursion was a success. i thought so, but that swelling knot in my throat would beg to differ. a feeling burrows inside me, pleads for security.

i'll never decode any of it, but your drunken consolations hush these menacing ticks. you'll never have to doubt my love. i cannot deny what you stir up. something, somewhere in between my heart and mind.

i thought i had an epiphany, but i'll never cross that line. these same words recycled, reused and ridden. nothing is new, and nothing is stale.

through the wash and spin cycle one more time.

352 hit(s) (5 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

lovin' is what i got.



I want to say something, but cannot tell what it is. I don't mind, I'll wait until it comes to me. Happiness, for some reason, makes the organization of any thoughts feel like a tedious task. Well, at least for myself. Right now, it feels like it is a good trade. The rawest joy for a scrambled mind.

270 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Not a fan of irony

[Flies are taking over the world! Well, they are multiplying in my room, and, as pathetic as it is, that is pretty much my only world now.]

I only realized it


I am having

a nervous



And I think it is hilarious.

I detached myself from my eyes, and looked at it through the ones of my family and friends.

I am on a medical leave from school.

I am unemployed and broke. In debt, to be exact. I cocoon myself around three layers of blankets and sheets. Shelter myself in my room. The room is hectic. The hardest task is getting up to piss. I don't remember the last time I left the house and was sober, the last time I bathed, the last time I ate a meal.

The sympathetic

looks and the hushed whispers behind

my back.

Oh my fucking god!

I am breaking down.

I have official documents;

I am depressed.

And all I can do is laugh.


-I do not need your fucking concern, thank you very much!

I actually find it pretty darn funny.

-That's what concerns me.

Oh, shut up.

309 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
our relationship is

1) an introvert and an extrovert making fantastic love

2) fueled by a strenuous effort to be happy

296 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

I am jobless, a drop out and broke (although being broke is not relevant I added it for the pity). I do not tolerate boredom so I turned to you. A pathetic pass time that swells my eyes and puts me to shame. Well, I will be productive this week. I will also get rid of you.

I am deactivating my facebook, I swear.

266 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Others often confuse it for aggression. When he hit the chorus the escape was moving and passionate.

[oh, please]

rock the forty ounce, it's the change that counts

Whether it was from the drugs inhaled or the sing(shout)-a-long around the stove, everyone, at the end of the night, goes to bed content and high-spirited. (There might have been crack in that pipe) The attack is reserved for the morning after and it begins with a simple throat ache. Now, up/in there, the words are sung with a mocking tone.

ohh, I'm not going back. No no. oohhhh

I have something to say. I won't. I'm scared that once written it will be final. Also, I am manic so I've learned to never trust my current emotions. For now, things aren't well.

315 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Sunday mornings, cold winters, 3 a.m coffee and poutine





this is home.

318 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

bzzzzt. zzzzztttt. bzz. BZTTT.

If it were not for that fly buzzing in my ear, I would have remained in bed the whole day.

WAIT! Why is there a fly in my room?

hmm. Since I am awake, I could clean up the clutter, get rid of the filth in my room. Or I could go back to sleep and hope that the fly won't disturb me again.


i didn't do either of the options above and i feel like a wreck now. my little sister came into my room

- what are you writing?

- just stuff

- oh, for who?

i stared at her dumbly, she laughed and didn't bother with her interrogation. she simply took the orange jus carton that was on my desk, exited and closed the door behind her.

and i'm left here alone, with these menacing thoughts knocking inside of my head. they are screaming:

what is the fucking point?!

307 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

I never denied it, I accepted it immediately. Only a true hypochondriac would insist that she is a hypochondriac. And now, I cannot diagnose myself with anything because I have run out of illnesses! Last week, I could have sworn that I was pregnant. A couple of days ago, my vagina proved me wrong. Besides the fact that I am leaking like a running faucet, I am relieved that my period fancied showing up. Ew, yer gross.

Really, I am aware that there is nothing wrong with me, but the mind should never be trusted when it has stopped spinning its wheels. I seriously don't even know what I mean by that. I have run out of things to do.

All I really am is a lazy bitch.

And this is what happens when boredom meets nostalgia.....




301 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

[Oh yeah, the wild life, hitting the clubs and pubs. Raving, baby. Floating scene after scene. Check out my leather jacket, I'm like so hardcore. Bad ass, I'll grab your sack through your tight pants. Take that comment back and stop starring at my overly exposed boob crack!]

I've switch over to a nocturnal life, and I'm a fucking riot! Bullshit.

light. inhale. inhale. flick. inhale. ash.

on and off the commuter train. meet him here. grab a cup, take a seat. nod. yes, yes. agreed. turn down invitations. and back again.

I am just going through the motions. That's what my evenings consist of. Wolf down greek pastries and vegetarian pizza. Help it travel down the esophagus by chugging a liter of whatever.

Nighttime arrives and I feel alive. I can lie, protect my fragile ego, and say that the parties never interested me, anyway. But I don't anymore. A pill to swallow, morning soon will follow. I think more than ever. About the train tracks I'll never cross. Of what I'm doing and what it'll cost.

282 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

click. delete.

slip and slide. slip and slide. slip and slide.

one fears the permanence of the action. the other fears the apathy when the action is complete. contradictions.

lard ass. back it up and press delete!

This is not what I want but I want this also.

two of the same. physically, i live through this one time only. the other holds on to me until i am reborn.

you should have told her you hallucinate, genius.

lines and shapes collide, and my body will never belong to the sky

Swirled emotions.

I am angry because of the anticipation I feel. I am going to misuse and abuse these tiny motherfuckers.

*side notes- wordiness, bleeding vagina, broken telephone and sleep, overestimation, -and i really didn't want to say it- identity crisis.

303 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Beauty is truth,

but most of this won't be pleasant or beautiful. For the first time, I am honest about everything I have denied and pushed aside. I am exposing my human nature and all the problems that tag along with my sometime masochistic mind. Physical flaws, character defects and weaknesses. Of course, I could bitch about myself all day, but there are things I am proud of, and slightly confident of. And those deserve to be mentioned as well, because with my low self-esteem, it is the positive I often forget. I am not expecting to create anything even remotely coherent. I will just babble, until I am tired and decide to retire for the night.

My shit stinks. Although I am crude and bitchy to those I know, I go out of my way for strangers in need. I cover up my vices well, the same way I cover my acne with makeup. I have nice eyebrows and lips. I would tell you I'm a babe, but I'm not. My hair can be fun at times. I am still upset with my family, and they are the only people I can not forgive. But I worked two jobs this summer to help my sisters and mother pay their bills. I am socially retarded. In cyberworld, too. I do not understand how I have friends. What the fuck do you see in THIS? I am scared when people approach me hoping I will befriend them. And Hannah, I am terrified, not only because your boyfriend kind of forced this relationship upon us, but because I do not remember ever having a normal female to female relationship. My best friend and I never express any real emotions in person and we cling onto our friendship through the internet. Then there was Silka, who still has absolutely no idea who I am because she is a self-centered cunt. Genia didn't last long either because she simply had no personality, and just morphed into me. And you know how much I love me, but unfortunately we got tired of each other fast. I get bored fast, but learn even faster. Drawing, painting, jewelery-making, piano. Once so interesting to me, sound so dull now. Although I continue to write, I wish I didn't. I wish I wrote well and the subject was anything else but myself. I don't prioritize school and I should. I need to understand that it is not an option anymore. I want to succeed. I do not believe that education is the only way to become someone of importance, but my school marks remind me that I lack any drive, motivation and a strong will. Those are necessary. I am still waiting to pick myself up. I probably have an eating disorder, and I am seeking help. That is a start. I developed a minor addiction to snorting and swallowing codeine. I am done with that, too. Cigarettes and coffee are essential in order for me to function. I am dramatic but only privately. I exaggerate for public reaction. I enjoy putting outfits, accessories and shoes together and helping people doll up. I've been told I do swell job at it, too. And I love being told so. I like compliments but never know how to react to them. I probably perspire more than the average girl. I am in the worst physical shape ever. Somehow, it doesn't really show. I always lie about my age. I just turned eighteen. I could never explain the relationship I have with my boyfriend. How I feel is unknown even to me. I will never leave him, I know that. I can't tell if that is good. Also, he is lucky to have someone who is so grateful. And since I'll never leave him, I'll say I'm dedicated, too. My solutions are denial and procrastination. I have the biggest ego defender. A tiny little lawyer that lives inside me. You could of, it'll say. But I didn't! I do not know what I can accomplish because I never finish anything or challenge my potential. I have a wild imagination, and I am very creative and original, I will apply these qualities to do/make/create something wonderful. I appreciate life but I only believe in God when I need him. I wish I could make that leap of faith, but I continue trying to understand religion. I can not conclude anything properly.

309 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Why isn't my msn working? Where is my telephone?

I have things to say! But I am tired of myself. I have to justify my strange behavior to Hannah. I desire romantic whispers from my lover. I would like to exchange music with Sean. I want to gossip with Sara. I should thank Michael for helping me find a job. I just remembered I have friends, and I must type to anyone else but myself! I need someone reading and listening on the other side! I must ignore the hushed voice that informs about these walls closing in on me! Your crazy double. Slip and slide.

276 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
a well respected man

'cause he's better than the rest

and his own sweat smells the best.

318 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Thank you Sara

353 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
new, again

you can find me at....





605 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

i was writing something positive slightly humorous i noticed it was going nowhere i began to ramble about the insignificance of the entry and i erased it all now i'm rambling on again and i unintentionally forgot to put commas and periods but i won't correct anything because i haven't stop to take a deep breath in three days my subconscious is a funny thing i am drinking my second bottle of wine red wine i need to eat something delicious i need to feel something spectacular

281 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
thoughts stuffed up my ass

Full circle again.

I have been forming the letters to the words, words to the sentences. horrified because I recognize them once again.

It comes down to my fear of control or chaos? Insanity or lucidity?

I always long for the other extreme.

Summary of the month of July.

I'm a slave to anything and everything superficial and hollow. Stupidity, commercialism. I am vain.

a slave to the feel good pill He sung.

I work two jobs, drink my evenings away, overdose on caffeine and sex, and exercise for a numbing effect. I have crushed my creativity and spirit. The consequences will haunt me this year. I will hate this entry. I will love hating this entry.

I have tasted it, and these thoughts melt on my tongue smoothly.

Silka wrote to me from B.C. I scanned the e-mail, and decided to close the window. I have received four more e-mails from her and they still remain unread. I can't get distracted, I can't let my spirit interfere. I will stay dumb, thoughts stuck in point form, never to be extended. I know I'm missing out, but facing the proof is hard. I don't want to believe there is more than the actions I know are safe to make.

Ignorance is always easier.

321 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
other side

the consequences of my actions have not left me drained and exhausted yet. i am pleasantly surprised.

And when I woke with the same symptoms a few weeks earlier, my reaction was not the same. This morning, I thought of the night before, and how heaven was so accessible.

292 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Thoughts stuffed in pockets

[I am six years old. Sitting on pavement,looking down. Concentrated, always. An ant has been walking in a circle for ten minutes or so. This invisible shape has a tiny circumference, and the ant continues to circle it strictly. I decide to create a triangle with my index fingers and my thumbs. I surround it. At the sight of my fingers, the ant begins to run around inside the fortress I have made for it. Looking for escape. Disorientated. Although I do not interrupt its wandering, it panics.]

And although I never intended on fleeing, i feel trapped when i look at the barriers. These separating structures are only visible at certain times, during certain days. I was quite fine before she told me. Numbly, thoughtlessly following a list of goals I had created on one of my better days. I know it was not part of my plan and I couldn't go anyway, but acknowledging the fact that I would never take the risk is absolutely killing me.


and it continued to trouble me during one of my drunken hours. so I scribbled on a piece of paper:


I am going to become a gypsy.

summer goals #2:

- learn to pick-pocket

- practice eastern european accent

- buy a tambourine

- find a pet goat

and everything was perfect, until i began vomiting and I realized that things are not looking promising.

i am as unflattering as i sound, perhaps even more so.


thoughts stuffed in pockets, i'll staple it together and call it bad weather.

330 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: the doors

cat has stopped the chase.

294 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Jennifer, where have you gone?

On a wooden shelf, left side of the window, are six or seven empty liquor bottles.

There is one in particular that intrigues me. It's a bottle of Absolut Vodka. Out of its neck pokes a dried rose. I know this is the one.

"this is the one," he confirms.

[I hate this fucking drumbeat, but I ain't going to tell anyone.]

374 hit(s) (6 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

If I really think about it, I suppose it wasn't really such a sudden mysterious transformation like something out of a German existentialist novella.

310 hit(s) (5 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Maudit, qu'le monde est beau.

319 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
april's fool

but I need a little more than myself this time.


The thoughts in my head don't provoke any emotions. I'm relying on my senses to convince myself I am not a zombie today. Bombard my taste buds with salty, bitter, sweet, sour.

(you're just a glutton, flabby-thighs)

I am slightly afraid of closing my eyes.


After the February blues, I crave immediate and fast change. And this transition season is just not doing it for me. I am not sad, angry or unhappy. just very impatient, and it is causing panic, because this waiting process has left me emotionless.


i am feeling well.

40 mg of cyclobenzaprine and some good hash, no physical or mental tension.

288 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

i'm too tough to dwell. too drunk as well.

337 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: radiohead

Once again, I was slapped in the face by reality.

Cute boy at Starbucks has a gal. Oh, how heartbreaking! He had an important role in my fantasy world.

Of course, I don't actually care but I pretend to be envious at the sight of them, occasionally giving her death looks when our eyes meet. When I become bored of pretending I take another sip, and try to find something else to keep me preoccupied.

My earphones are still broken so I'm forced to acknowledge the real world. Nearby a couple are on a first date. I eavesdrop on their boring exchange of information, and wonder how my first date would have been if Ryan and I had done the conventional thing. We went to one of Montreal's many outdoor music festivals. It was raining and I vomited twice from the mix of whiskey and a Big 10. I recreate my first date, but now change the scene to a Starbucks and we are both sober. I make up a conversation we would have exchanged, and decide that I like my real first date better.

I look at cute Starbucks boy and his girlfriend, then I look at the couple nearby. For no reason, I become anxious. I rationalize it by saying, it's probably the three cups of coffee you had this morning. That does not help. I hear mothers with their children, I hear business men order coffee and everything irritates me. All I can think about is the amount of school work I have and how I will not finish it. I think of the last time I had sex. Three weeks ago?! I feel deprived of energy, motivation, sleep and sexual pleasure. I look up at the clock and notice it's time to start my exciting shift at the hair salon next door.

I've realized that like most things in my life, my job is very extreme. Most days there is no escape from the nagging hairdressers, bitching parents, screaming kids and crying toddlers.

When I arrive to work that morning it was dead. Silent. The stillness absolutely driving me insane. All I can hear are my anxious thoughts that tagged along from next door. Although my big black chair at the reception is incredibly comfortable, my behind is buzzing.

Get up!

I unfold towels just to fold them again. I vacuum the carpet. Two times. Once more, I see some hairs. Windex the mirrors. Take out the garbage, although the bags aren't full yet. Make the papers for tomorrow. Hell, I might as well do the whole week.

I truly need something to happen. What can get rid of this sudden panic?

And yet the answer is so obvious.

I sit and she says

Darling, you're brave

Why, yes I am!

I look down onto the floor at my pretty little curls and locks.

I run my hand through the few inches that are left on my head. This is real. A small spontaneous action that relieved the panic that comes with an unsatisfied and structured life.

I chopped off eight inches, but I feel as if I got rid of a ton.

328 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Only a paper moon

I have life and i have youth, but only time can tell what I'll do.

Right now, I'd like to stop discussing my self so obsessively, but I know it's the only thing I'll ever have a firm grip on.

Occasionally letting loose during the night, I let my mind wander. it moves aimlessly and without destination with the stars.

Then everything tenses up again, and I hear clock ticking quietly reminding me that I've run out of excuses. It's time to wake up and face myself again. Quick, think of something or someone to take the blame.

(Mother said it started with the bite of an apple.)

278 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Love is a subject so overdone, and if it is not dealt with care it becomes difficult to say anything worthy.

So, all I'll say is that I found my peace with love. I take a deep breath and assure myself. Everything will be alright. I am satisfied and well rested.


328 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
black or white

life is never fast enough. so i need a cigarette between my fingers, to tell them i don't care. a shot and a needle, a gelatin coated pill and an affair.

cause life is too slow, but never slow enough. I don't want to grow but its too late now.

i can't bring back my innocence so its down to experience. I can't slow it down, and I'm incapable of living life at a steady pace. i hate being in between. so i dream, because i don't have the guts to live life to its fullest.

321 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
in between, but I want an extreme

I've never been good with words, and I can barely write. So I'd never allow myself to express my thoughts on a subject so grand.

Right now I'm suffering of artist's block.

Life is frustrating, troubling when you live in a box, and your excess amount of vanity, pride and confidence is the only thing that is preventing corruption and self-destruction.

You don't make much sense, and you live life to dream. Silly dreams of being a crack whore.

368 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Oh Sedaris, I simply adore you

Aggression, satisfaction, accomplishments.

The sun was was shining, my baby's music was blasting in my ear.

The only thing today was missing was a funny gay guy, because boyfriends can be so boring when they're not naked.

250 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
i cheated myself
Listening to: fuck me pumps- amy winehouse

who's playing sanity?

I live in my head. fabrications and silly prayers. I pray that it never collides with reality.

[Are you still dizzy?]

342 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
j'ai pas voulu, j'ai pas voulu

Balma balma sama wadji

Khadjalama yonwi

Djeguelma djeguelma Sama wadji

Khadjalama yonwi

Sama wadji khadjalama yonwi

378 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
And I'm feeling fucking spectacular
Listening to: add it up- violent femmes

An explosion of body and need.

Its incredible that amazing sex can ease such a soul.

361 hit(s) (7 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

"you know, nowadays, they make pills for that too."

thanks, you useless cuntface.

337 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

I fell asleep to him playing Redemption song on his guitar. I woke up and we made beautiful love. He called me his muse and we lay there forever.

as if.

We watched the comedy channel for three hours, I blew him and we went out for fast food.

Not that I mind, I had fun.

Sometimes I just forget to snap out of my fantasy world.

326 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: Andrew Bird- heretics

I enjoy my company way too much, I'm just soooo amusing.


I'm way too proud to admit that I'm fucking lonely.

I have to buy:

Deodorant for Ryan and I because we smell.

Intimacy by Jean Paul Sartre

Christmas gifts for the girls.

A sketch book to create my visual diary.

there was more but I forget.

I'm going to go play videogames now.

342 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
I laugh about it, now.

Something is severely wrong with me.I haven't had a spasm of self-pity in quite a while.

Cristina, perhaps you're getting better, perhaps you've found other ways and you don't need to resolve your problems by blaming them on others.


There is silence for 3 minutes and I begin.

I haven't slept and these hairdressers don't know what they want and because they have no more eggs left, I'm the one who suffers. Menopausal psychos. And Ryan doesn't buy me flowers. And my mother! Oh that mother of mine ......

For an hour I spoke about how the world is to blame for my imperfections and I was sooo way into it,

and then

sorry Cristina your time is up.

Every session I try to prove to her how amazing I am and how I should really be admired for what I've been through. She hasn't fell for it yet.

I'm also off the antidepresants. I'm convinced I'll always be a little bit socially retarded with or without meds.

They also didn't help my sleep deprevation, I'm such a mess. Today I misplaced 200 dollars, I also fell asleep on a stranger's shoulder on the train. He was handsome and I might have drooled on him.

318 hit(s) (6 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: dinosaur jr

And as I type this, down in my basement, I am alive, yes. I am living. But sometimes it doesn't feel like I am doing it fast enough, or hard enough, or all the way. And it is times like that when I regret quitting and I want a cigarette in my hand, then my mouth, then my hand again. Holding the cigarette. Tending to the cigarette. Giving the cigarette what it needs. Tapping it in the ashtray. Sucking on it.

Then flicking it dead, like it meant nothing to me.

355 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Raf wrote this
Listening to: sublime- one cup of coffee

What is it that defines someone as a real Montrealer? Now I don't mean someone who simply calls Montreal their home or those transients on their way to something bigger and brighter in a real city later on. I'm talking about someone who lives and breathes the city. People who could never think of leaving or living in any other geographical location in the world.

Is it someone cultured, who loves art? Is it a gourmand who likes having long dinners, but at the same time will wolf down a poutine when the time comes (aka wasted at 3 a.m.)? Is it a romantic who has the ability to flip between several sexy languages on a whim? Or is it someone hard-coded to root for the Habs? Is it a person who's easy going and never in a real rush except to find the next bigger, better party or the stronger, tastier coffee?

According to the gentleman who taxied me from Parc and Villeneuve to a restaurant on lower St-Denis the other night, there is really only one thing that defines someone as a true Montrealer: an absolute dislike for every other Canadian city.

After examining me in his rearview mirror for a moment, he asked, "Are you who you look like?"

The question struck me as strangely existential. I mean, how do I answer that? Well, I think I look like myself, but how can I be sure? Maybe I don't really look like myself tonight. And what does "myself" even mean? I mean, can you really ever truly know yourself? I decided to give him the stock answer: "Well, I'm not Sean Lennon."

He said he recognized me from my column and wanted to agree with me on something I wrote a few months back about how Vancouver was basically like one of those Cherry Blossom chocolates: it looks pretty delicious from the outside, but it's actually pretty weird and yucky when you get down to the core. "But, like any Montrealer," he explained, "I don't really like anywhere else."

I marveled at how true that sentence was. Real Montrealers don't really like any other place. Try it. Find a true-blue Montrealer, and bust out a map of Canada and ask them to talk about all the major cities, west to east. It'll probably go something like this:

Vancouver: Junkie central with horrible mish-mashed architecture.

Calgary: Conservative Hickopolis that thinks the rest of Canada is a waste of stampede grounds.

Edmonton: Brain-dead mall culture.

Regina: Rhymes with vagina.

Winnipeg: aka Winter-peg. Frozen wasteland. Decent art scene but only because there is negative things to do there.

Toronto: Polluted American wannabes who think they're more important than they actually are.

Ottawa: Well, it's just Ottawa.

Then there are all those Maritime cities. Those don't count as real cities do they? They marry fish over there, don't they?

While I can find a grain of truth in each of those sweeping generalization (except maybe the marrying fish thing), I'm not naive enough to think Montreal is without its problems. Sure, there's lots of culture, but the money to support fresh upcoming artists is few and far between. The whole reasonable accommodation debate makes me feel both ashamed and scared, our road conditions are a disaster, and of course our laissez faire attitude is great, unless of course you ever need anything done on time.

Why is it then that Montrealers enjoy raggin' on our fellow Canadian cities? Do we really believe that Montreal is, empirically, a better city than the rest of them? Or is it simply a matter of jealousy? That Toronto and Calgary have lots of money? That Vancouver has gorgeous vistas, with beaches, mountains and lush forests? That Edmonton has a mall where you can ride a rollercoaster? That Regina rhymes with vagina?

Or are we embittered by our long, cold winters and have resorted to warming our hearts with hatred for other, not so icy lands? Could it be that we have some kind of Napoleon complex? Are we the little dog with the big bark? Or are we, like our French forefathers, just really skilled in the art of bitching?

It's tough to say. Perhaps it's a mix of all of the above. I'm not sure why we can't love all our cities equally. After all, there is one thing people across Canada can all agree on:

Toronto blows.

365 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
New York

I want to sell my soul don't tell Mom. Dad wants

action in the clouds of conscience

Denial I'm

scared I lost my mind a little time

from too much to not enough

either way nothing is human that's why

pretty girls get it better because sex

is the rawest love and guilt comes

after chocolate when your scared to get

fat and then seam infertile because old ladies

have slow metabolisms and they are expired

And then you won't get in "get into what?"

To Heaven stupid/ugly. So the pleasure makes

it better? No. It makes it worse. Whispered

mama witch. Made the trend of the bitch

my pen might run out of ink. And then I can't think because my head is no place for thinking.

It connects to none of my senses. The whores

crawled out to see the sun. When the night

was over and their work was done. And they went back home [the men]

to see their flabby-thigh wives. Wondering if this is really life. Eating pancakes and lice.

Raspy-voice but it sounds nice. Back

to the morning whores, who crawled out to the roof-tops wondering

about what we call life, [observation] and if

we' re [they are] even at all alive. If they are really living at all.

360 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Above all, I stole from myself. Words and phrases that enamored me, whether I had come upon them or they had come to me from within, were endlessly repeated, recycled, ridden like horses until they were dead.

357 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: a better place, a better time- streetlight manifesto

I guess someone up there likes me.

"I'll draw your bath and I'll load your gun, but I hope so bad that you bathe and hunt."

I do not want to study for finals.

mother fucker.

381 hit(s) (2 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
three hours well spent

Ben is the biggest cock blocker.

363 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
: )

"To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer. To suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy then is to suffer. But suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness. I hope you're getting this down."

- Woody Allen

Woody Allen is a riot!

362 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: magic bus- the who

9 lasts:

Last dollar spent: buying johnny bootlegger

Last cigarette: thursday?

Last beverage: coffee with whiskey

Last movie: benny and joon

Last phone call: genia

Last song played: kinky reggae- bob marley

Last bubble bath: oh man, like when i was 4.

Last time you cried: sometime last week

Last thing you ate: a burnt french toast because phillip stole all the good ones for himself!!

8 have you evers.

Have you ever dated a best friend: no.

Have you ever skinny dipped: of course

Have you ever kissed somebody and regretted it: yes

Have you ever fallen in love: no

Have you ever lost someone you loved: yes

Have you ever been dumped: nope

Have you ever been drunk and threw up: god yes. almost every time.

Have you ever ran away: yes.

Have you ever wanted someone u thought u couldn't have then found out they liked you: andrew

7 states you've been to: New Hampshire, New York and that's it.

6 things you've done today: (in no particular order...)

-welcomed the day with the consumption of alcohol



-finished a drawing

-made french toast

-ate burnt french toast

5 of your favorite things in no order.


-bobby lee


-mr. potato head

-finger paints

4 people you can tell [almost] anything to in no order..


I have trust issues...

3 things that make you smile.

the sun



2 things you want to do before you die.

become a talented painter

graffiti jim morrison's grave!

1 one thing you can't live with out


399 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
Listening to: touch me- the doors

Snakeskin jacket

Indian eyes

Brilliant hair

He moves in disturbed

Nile Insect


407 hit(s) (1 comments) | Erotic Polititians  
She has robes and she has monkeys
Listening to: Back Door Man- The Doors

Have you ever been to a fairy's funeral? Well I have and it was magical.


417 hit(s) (0 comments) | Erotic Polititians  

Entry List
this must be the place
the last cold step
it never stopped time
my love is black and wet
my love is a jumping monkey
drunk, lonely and probably...
June 2012
As The Sparrow
Now that I've started
My words have turned stale
The Body
I am angry
July 13, 2013
His sweater
I am
Country side
I'm gross sometimes
Even after so many years, I...
This grave is chilly
Blood love
Story of my life
I can smell
Made of
I hope you got fat
Dear Father
Emotional Baggage (short...
Memento mori (short)
Irresistible womanly charm
Vanity, vulnerability and...
End of semester syndome (part...
I need to tell you
I'd like to remove my uterus
A writer of situational...
June 21st- August 19
Gross metaphors
Death on the stairs
Nothing at the top but a...
Tentative summer schedule
The cat ate them
Didn't anybody see?
Jasper, Meher Baba, Final...
Mental cheat
End of semester syndrome
Monster cholesterol
Humpty Dumpty
Freedom is just another word...
Ceci est une pipe
Barbie Doll
A leak in my head
Ticking Clock
I'm five years old
Let your hair down
Bad/Recycled Poetry Assignment
Skipping thoughts
Here, and thank you
Vive le Quebec libre
Naked bible reading sessions
Easter on a spit
Let's get serious here
Heard, seen, vandalized.
Sleep deprived and craving...
This and that
Lady sing the blues so well
I can play house
The last you'll hear from me
Untouchable is something to be
Human Relations
Better times.
Lose your mind, lose your...
Fuck tarts
Those butterflies
My theory isn't perfect but...
To Top Most Clever Evil...
St Catherine Street East
To the top, to the top
I kind of miss nights like...
I don't form in the wet sand
Success, suck-sex!
Disregard or skip this one
Nothing, really
Say, what?
Xristos Anesti
The only good thing
Blaze a blaze, purple haze
Bamboo Banga
Rain, rain, go away
Sense of pleasure, sense of...
Closure? Progress?
This will be gone tomorrrow,...
Despite what all his studies...
Life is
Vent and Flatter
I'll be just fine
The soft parade
Feet in the air
Somewhere in between
A habit-forming need for more...
A whole lot of nothing
Monotonous regularity
A parasite, like a smoker...
Walk,walk,walk. four more...
Girl, put your records on
Can you spare sunshine for a...
The piano has been drinking,...
A papillon parade
July 2008/November 2008
Train of thoughts
hey, thanks for stealing
So...ummm.. what do you do...
Insomnia 3
Insomnia 2
Not a fan of irony
our relationship is
Sunday mornings, cold...
Beauty is truth,
a well respected man
new, again
thoughts stuffed up my ass
other side
Thoughts stuffed in pockets
Jennifer, where have you gone?
april's fool
Only a paper moon
black or white
in between, but I want an...
Oh Sedaris, I simply adore you
i cheated myself
j'ai pas voulu, j'ai pas voulu
And I'm feeling fucking...
I laugh about it, now.
Raf wrote this
New York
three hours well spent
: )
She has robes and she has...
209 post(s)