The butter melts out of habit, the toast isn’t even warm.

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My stepmother’s aunt lives here in Vancouver and was recently put in an ‘old folks home’. I never met the woman. But my stepmom is here in town getting the house ready to sell. This entails packing up and getting rid of this old lady’s things. All her stuff. I basically got to take anything I wanted. Amazing. It was any thrifter’s wet dream. An ENTIRE HOUSE worth of retro furniture, kitchenware, handmade rugs, lamps… everything. It was kinda sad but despite it all I was beside myself greed and at the same time trying to keep respectful composure whilst making the best haul ever.

I got a crocheted rug she made. SUper ugly. Yellow green pink and brown. Hilarious. A pair of matching lamps. Orange ones. With glass bases, big yellow velvet shades and big dangly amber crystaly things hanging all over them. Amazing. A set of gold leaf mod style glasses. Some painted ceramic fruit basket wall hangings. One of those big old cast iron roasting pots. You know, the bright colored enamel ones? With a matching frying pan. So awesome. Plus I spent about an hour digging through a huge box of old buttons, trying to find matching sets. What is it about digging through a pile of old buttons that is so satisfying? I could have easily kept at it for another hour but I didnt want to seem too crazy.

It was a really weird experience seeing this lady’s whole life being packed up into boxes and dispursed to the wind without any input from her. She apparently didnt want to even hear about it. Sad. This is what eventually happens to the sentimental or aesthetically pleasing yet otherwise useless shit that we stockpile throughout our time alive? Just keep it around to touch and look at and enjoy until a time comes when we are close enough to the end that we come to an understanding that there is no need for it anymore? But most of it there really is no need for in the first place except for our own enjoyment and what better time to have it all around you as the time you are coming to terms with death?? Ugh. Old folks homes. Good god.

Why don’t you just drink some water and… stre-tsch?

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The Jeane Dielman cardi is all blocked and shrunk and finished. Had to shrink it in the dryer for a while but Im pretty happy with it I guess.

Im not sure about the collar. I dont know if Im into how low the neck plunges. And maybe I made it a bit too wide. Maybe a little too grampa-y. What do you think? Any comments would be appreciated as I cant bring myself to sew the buttons on untill I decide wether or not its wort re knitting the fuckin collar.

Im at the dawn of my two days off work. Not sure how I feel about it. Ive been super super angsty all week. Stressed about money. About boys. About my life in general. Im gonna chalk it up to my high coffee consumption and call it a day. Start on decaf, I think? And I have made a huge to do list of chores and other shit to keep me busy over the next 48 hours which will hopefully leave me with some feelings of accomplishment.

I ran out of moisturizer this week so I might do a Jennifer Anniston in ‘Friends With Money’ style trek through the department stores downtown in search of samples. That might be fun.

This has been an experiment to see if I could be capable of defacing myself for the love of another.

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An impromptu day off work. The roomie didnt arrive home to go to bed till 11am (lol) and then had to work at 8. This has left me with an apartment all to my own accord all day and night. So domestic. Bliss.

Tonight in the throws of solidarity I am making a hurdle of wills. Im siting down to watch “For Colored Girls” finally. Now I didnt think this would be a big deal. I wasnt really hesitant about it at all. But I started watching it over an hour ago and Im only 12 minutes into the actual film because I keep pausing it and getting up and distracting myself with other things.

I was so excited about this movie when it first came out. Black middle aged women living in New York struggling for equality and respect?? What could be better. We all know my penchant, however unexplainable to me,  for aging female protagonists. And its a given that black culture (is that the right word choice??) ranks high on my ‘like’ scale (eg: Jackie Brown, Cleopatra Jones, Samuel L. Jackson etc…). Plus, and you may not know this about me, city street culture really janks my sweet tooth (eg: Kids, VBS tv, whatever else) I have a theory that it was Sesame street that sparked this flame, but I digress. The point being… I really wanted to see this movie. However. The night I was supposed to go see it… the guy I was supposed to see it with broke my heart instead. So I guess I have a bit of a soft spot or a pinched nerve everytime this movie would cross my mind.

Tonight… I thought ‘What the fuck’ Im gonna do it. No big deal.

But Im finding it kinda difficult. Its not that Im dwelling on things, but I do have my moments even still. Short periods of regret maybe? Regret and woe I guess? Having said that I gotta say that -worry you not, as that woe surely soon turns sour and by the time I reach the end of whatever block I happen to be walking the only regret I have is for being such a doormat for such a period of time and how contradictory that is to the mission statement written across the inside of my eyelids. And now here I sit having watched twelve minutes of these fictional women being doormats themselves Im crawling out of my skin.

Thank god I have this bag of peanut M&M’s

I won’t worry anymore. You and I… we are ideal.

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Three seasons have past since I landed in the metropolis and nary a blog post have I recorded. I came here at the beginning of summer when everything was full bloom and beautiful, and now have bore witness to those blooms wilting and falling away to cold bare branches. Now here I am at the beginning of spring again, a little wet but  with plenty of green beginning to peek up through the soil. Life imitating nature, Im feeling kinda symbolic about all that but I dont really feel like getting into it.

That was a hard winter. A long december if you will, and a longer and colder January. But now, lo- ’tis march and Ive found myself as a downtown west end resident with a fresh view on the path Im trekking and back to making my choices based on just myself. Holler. And so, having closed that particular ‘I as a We’ chapter of my life Im glad to announce that Im back in full force. (well pretty much anyway)

I think about the summer I spent single in Victoria. Driving around blasting Quinten Tarantino soundtracks, getting frapuccinos to cure hangovers, stumbling around the seashore with my headphones, pleased as hell and just loving life. Vancouver is a bit different. Although annonymity is found quite easily here, there is nary a quiet corner found suited for quiet contemplation -something Ive always been such a fan of. The hustle here is kinda inescapable. This can wear on the nerves slightly. So Ive spent many entire days hunkered in my well lit apartment trudgeoning back and forth between my bodum and my knitting needles. Also the presence of a PVR and the ever popular Netflix at my disposal has proven a great source of satisfaction. Simple pleasures, so they say. Ive become very lazy. Im ok with it, especially now that Im finding myself slowly gaining more motivation as the weeks pass.

Things that have pleased me recently: Macallans 12 year scotch. MAC mineralized skin finish powder. Short rib fricasee at Cafe Medina. A hunky 35 year old gentleman caller. Steak tartare. A black american apparel hoodie. An ativan prescription. Janet Jackson. Videomatica’s near comprehensive collection of Isabelle Huppert films.

Things that have displeased me: The dumpster right outside my bedroom window constantly swarmed by hobos and freecycle hipsters. My landlord confronting me with suspicions that Im a prostitute. The need for a cycle of penicillin. Picking up Elizabeth from the impound lot. My roomate’s love of Need For Speed Hot Pursuit

And in closing Ill leave with this gem I came across a few months ago. Stunned and shocked this little promo vid seems to be made for me. The eerie taxidermy. Shredded vintage over upholstered furniture covered with dusty blankets. And Nina. Dressed in all black. Rocks glass in hand.  Face etched from past woe yet still teeming with confidence. Its like this little promo vid was tailored especially for me.