Junkie$ For Bush May 14, 2008
Trick Question: When is an economic stimulus cheque not a stimulant?
Answer: When it is used to buy heroin!
hey steve-o May 13, 2008
you know you’ve mishandled and stonewalled one too many media outlets when even
THE NATIONAL POST is calling you on it. golf clap.
How Soon They Forget May 12, 2008
spurious conjecture based on outright lies
UNpopular vote arguments* delaying inevitable demise
obfuscated half truths; no real surprise
in the face of knowledge; how her shit flies.
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racial wounds unearthed and opened anew
he can’t win ‘the white vote’, or gun owners boohoo
90 second media cycles can’t remember ‘92
Bill Clinton won The White House; and lost ‘the white vote’ too.
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(* HC includes votes that were cast in her favour in Michigan on January 15, 2008. She
conveniently forgets to mention that Barack Obama’s name wasn’t on the ballot as most
contendors withdrew after the Michigan primary was ruled as invalid because it violated
DNC rules).
i am grateful for May 12, 2008
- my job (insofar as it pays my bills***)
- my sister / best friend / hero / mentor / inspiration / sounding board
- my kitten / cuddle partner / face licker / bug detector / cream cheese sneaker
- my condo*** (mine, mine, mine!)
- my brain
- my growth
dreams part II May 3, 2008
the other dream in heaviest rotation involves parking lots, either at ottawa u or bcit. not
circling and looking for a spot, although that is the eternal curse of vancouver, but walking
frantically trying to find my car. realizing, while i’m looking, that i don’t know which car i’m
looking for.
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i have parking lot precedent. my first boyfriend was first a cad, then a coke dealer, now a
cop. always knew he was a cad, never dared think he’d sell dope, figure he now beats
people daily as a cop. our parking lot etiquette involved back seating his acura in every
elementary, catholic, junior and high school around the ottawa carleton school district.
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what i would do to be that flexible again.
wet dreams May 3, 2008
for 3 years i’ve dreamed of water.
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safely ashore watching menacing swells develop from playful, innocuous waves. sometimes
alone, otherwise commiserating with others - always watching with a stone of dread in the
pit of my stomach. underwater, swimming, terrified, fleeing one predicament or another.
on a raft, capsizing, immersed.
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sometimes the water is rain accumulating then flooding. sometimes i drown, sometimes
others do. often the water is contained in a pool. the pool is always the same: rectangular
surrounded by a multi-level deck. once sharks populated the pool: frenzied, slamming
their (noses? snouts? multiple rows of teeth?) at my legs that dangled over the side. often
the pool is part of a schmaltzy suite in a towering las vegas hotel. a few times the pool has
been empty and its emptiness has saddened me.
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when i was about 5 i almost drowned and died. i was trapped, tangled underwater in a river
for minutes and, in short, my brother saved my life. literally. i haven’t associated the two
until now the but the dreams’ message has always been clear to me.
Sink. Swim. or Be Saved.
