Editing poetry: Dissolved/girl

Dissolved girl is the title of a Massive Attack song, but I think that is where the similarity ends.
I hear you twittering
Your lizard eyelashes
Surreptitious black on black
The words trap all colour
Churn with anger
You touch/
Poise in plunging dress
Long stroke of Neruda’s
Endless bleak binary
Landscape of thin-lipped stripes
And vulture-beak shoes
Is the limit of imagination
This two-tone copy
These drunken stilt-walkers

Pull back
Now I cannot see you naked
Now I coil in my room
Tightly invulnerable
The markings on the calendar
Dissolve in streaming soap bubbles
The floor under my stubborn chair
Develops creaks
I occupy smaller and smaller space
This my hideout
No molecule wasted
Each breath repeated off beat
Return no calls
Hang my friends from the ceiling
On waxed thread
Eventually they die away

I am so sick
Of suspending myself in another sphere
Carving out welded rictus grins
Face-taint chemical
Chase you into the ketamine vortex
With arms outreached
Like toy soldiers
All fall down
All fall down
I will not pull you out of the rabbit hole
This time

Now I cannot see me naked
Now I coil in my room
Incrementally living
Waiting until all the food is gone


Editing poetry: ‘You have no idea what love is’ she hissed as she turned to leave

Love is not the same for everyone, and other thoughts of a similar nature… oh the line ‘I am lost between the notes’ comes from the Radiohead song ‘Jigsaw falling into place’.
AsI hit the streets
likehalf an electrode
itis not the same
asthe continuous contact
sparksfrom the wheel
Loveis not like cycling
Ifall in love with the thin-legged creatures
ontheir pointless fixies
AsI gasp through
itis not the same
asthe bouncing adrenalin
resonatingin those friends I no longer remember
Loveis not like a crowd
Ifall in love with the repetitive motion
ofpeople passing newspapers
AsI am lost between the notes
itis not the same
asthis lonely reaching
couplestouching across
cannever be without that
tinybreath of touch
inempty lungs
Loveis not like touching
Ifall in love with the stick figures
hidingbetween the pages
AsI burn between pills
andwhite sheets
itis not the same
asthose movies
wherelove is chased down
itsarm caught before the train pulls out
Loveis not like desperation
ifall in love
withthe breath of beauty
ineveryone walking away
Asi turn this empty glass
incentrifugal blur
itis not the same
asthe clouded confidence of the assassin
andthe dark resin makes him forget
howhe touches them
Loveis not like molecules
Ifall in love
withthe dregs
ofevery failure
traceit in condensation
signmy name

via Editing poetry: ‘You have no idea what love is’ she hissed as she turned to leave.

Editing poetry: Summer in Integrated Circuits

I have mentioned before that there are things I hate about summer…

summer crashes back
against the breakers
like a flayed wire
stretched and electric
dangerous in water
the ions trace fingers
in the current
conduct it
to the point where
you intrude
in our summer

you should shelter
peer through squinted eyes
at the sheens and
frames and shades
sandalwood smell of dark sweat
lock yourself in the sea blue
glass of Bombay Sapphire
dilute the summer
with ice
and ethanol

via Editing poetry: Summer in Integrated Circuits.

Cocktails and dreams


One of the bachelor skills I’ve developed (other than cooking, sewing and masturbation) is mixing cocktails. One of my personal favourites is my own invention, the corpse reviver #3, with gin, bellini, yuzu juice and triple sec. It’s a pretty yellow colour and it’s strong and citrusy, the way I like my cocktails. My other favourites are the classic martini, appletini and the black russian (vodka and kahlua). This evening I bought some creme de cassis, and I’m thinking about making a purple cocktail with it. Maybe a vodka one…

Anyway, for some reason although Montreal has huuge liquor stores, they are all wine and very little spirit (in contrast to the people of quebec). Seriously, does anyone need 500 different bottles of wine and only 3 kinds of gin? It is freaking impossible to get good cocktail ingredients here. I have been unable to find bitters (an ingredient in a lot of the nicest cocktails), and as for finding real grenadine (which is flavoured with pomegranate, as opposed to fake grenadine, which is just red sugar syrup, forget it. Montreal, you irk me. Gah!

5 days of no drinking

I can handle my drinking and I’m not an alcoholic, but several doctors, psychiatrists and an addiction counsellor have told me that medicating myself with alcohol is a bad idea. Of course, the problem is that it works. I suppose that one of the things that grown-ups have to do (if they don’t want to end up as dead grown-ups) is to pick the most holistically effective solution rather than the easiest one. And the bigger the problem (or perceived problem), the harder that is to do. So for me depression leads to drinking, which leads to more depression, which leads to more drinking.

Again annoyingly, drinking has its benefits. I’m not talking about the health benefits of drinking x glasses of red wine per week, in fact I can’t drink red wine as even the smell of it gives me an instant headache. No, I am referring to the banishment of social anxiety. I recently realized that I have only ever been able to talk to new people at pubs/bars/clubs while under the influence of some substance (be it alcohol, ecstasy, ghb or whatever). So now I am torn between going out sober and trying to talk to people (and also having to witness the late-night drunken rowdiness sober), or drinking to socialize and risking getting a big depression hit the following day.

The next day thing is something I noticed recently. If I had even one drink in the evening, around 5pm the next day I’d just suddenly get really depressed. Probably an 8/10 on my depression scale, from maybe a 6-7 earlier in the day. When I noticed that, I had to stop drinking completely. I can’t help feeling that it’s slightly unfair, as someone with social anxiety and a lot of shyness, that I now can’t drink either. Forward match.com!