Monthly Archives: October 2007

Happy Halloween! Power Puff Girl Style

This year I’ll be working during the day and later handing out candy to kids in the neighborhood. We expect 200-300 trick or treaters to come knocking on the door this year.

The pics below are from a party I attended, at the Waldorf Hotel in Vancouver, in 2005. We created our own patterns and sewed the dresses up a few days before the event. We jaunted down to Chinatown, frantically searching for china flats which we found and purchased. We later found decent wigs from a crazy shop (I can’t remember the name…?) on Main St.

Power Puff Girls 2
From left to right – Me (Jessica), Michael, Leah, unknown guy #1 and guy #2

Power Puff Girls 1
From left to right – Leah, Lala, Junko and me (Jessica)

…and from last year, and more scary…

Have a great, fun and safe Halloween everyone!

•Photo credits – Darren Lee
•Mini opening photo credit – me

In the walking one finds solace from the haunting past

Thanks range for the spark to write this.

I attended a public elementary school where corporal punishment was practiced. Boys and girls were segregated in the playground each having to play on opposing sides of the school. In Grade three this practice was abolished. Corporal punishment remained all six years I was a student there.

In grade three when I was ALLOWED to play with boys, we girls and boys were very confused. Off school property we had no problems with this.

In the mornings we had to say the Lord’s prayer. Anyone who wasn’t of Christian faith had to leave the room. I didn’t like it.

This is what I remember in Saint john, New Brunswick, Canada from a couple of decades ago. There may have been rules or policies in place about the lord’s prayer that I, as a 5 to 11 year old were not aware of, but the memories of hearing the strap waft down that single corridor from the principals office and watching the boys play on the better side of the school playground still echo firmly in my mind.

Not all was bad at that elementary school. Three of those six years I was taught by fabulous teachers whom ignited the imagination and nourished the creative side.

But this post is about corporal punishment. Continue reading

In the midst of the cacophony ghosts danced

I awoke this morning horny. I had been dreaming of ghosts. A large party that covered whole city blocks. It resembled the downtown Eastside of Vancouver. All the buildings appeared as they do today except the streets, the windows, sidewalks and air were filled with cars, horses, wagons and people of yesteryear, some centuries old. I was four or five floors up in a hotel. It happened to be clean and comfortable decorated with furniture from the turn of the century. I questioned the dark haired female ghost next to me

“How old are you?”
“292 years. I’m old” She smiled appearing no older than 29, “You?”

I couldn’t remember how old I was. My early thirties I suppose then I thought I was 32 and began wondering why 32 just didn’t seem to be the right age. She had read my thoughts and said out loud,

“You are young and still alive.”

I felt fear nagging behind meas being alive around these ghosts although jovial could mean trouble. I moved on through the room content to let fear follow. An orgy was in progress. This orgy was not just sex. It encompassed everything and anything that could make people (ghosts) laugh and feel pleasure. There were ghosts eating. There were ghosts tickling one and other. There were ghosts painting and taking their clothes off comparing their wounds to that which they were painting.

I remembered being alive. I knew I was not dead and peaked my head out the curtainless window down the length of the street below, witnessing the final cacophony of ghostial bestiality… then all was calm.

My surroundings morphed into a dank apartment. This was real. My surroundings didn’t smell. It was dirty, unkempt and all shades of brown in color. I felt happy. It felt familiar. I heard voices in the distance and recognized them. Andrea’s voice sung out. She had climaxed. She giggled. I set about doing the dishes but they had all been cleaned beforehand. I set about putting them all away. There were mountains of them and drying racks everywhere. The dish towels were gross. I tossed them *dans la poubelle quickly. There were five drawers in the kitchen. Four of the five contained one kind of cutlery, forks, spoons, small spoons and knives. The fifth contained a cutlery organizer. I got confused. I began laughing.

The sound of a man came into existence. Jean Paul Tremblay walked into the kitchen. A bed appeared in the corner. We sat and I began studying his penis for drawing purposes.

Curley…

I certainly woke **happy today.

This is the first dream I remember upon waking in which I was not using drugs, I was not running or trying to escape something or someone and not fearing for my life, nor was I screaming upon waking up.

I awoke having an orgasm. This is the first time that that has happened in years.

*in the garbage
**…and it all began from an eargasm. Go figure?

How to Have an Eargasm

1 + 2 + 3 = 6ex

How to have an EARGASM

The above instructional How to Have an Eargasm illustration inspired this post:
He popped his cherry.

*Please proceed with caution as I will NOT be held accountable for any inner ear damage due to the onslaught of multiple eargasms attained by following the above illustrated directions.

I don’t know what I’m doing

I really don’t. I’m pooped. I’m tired. I’m just kind of waiting for something but I don’t even know “what” that is. Maybe I’m not waiting… maybe I’m glad I’m in limbo between mind, body and soul. Maybe this is what life is all about. Maybe there is nothing bigger or better. Maybe everything we have been taught is false and reality just doesn’t exist.

I’m not down in the dumps. I’m not down and out. I’m not happy BUT I’m not sad. I wanted to write but the words are confusing and ideas are smushing together lately.

The weather here in New Brunswick is odd for this time of year. It’ been hot for October. Leaves are remaining greener longer than normal. Normal is just an idea. An idea that someone made up to appease people into thinking they were all alike when in FACT we are different. I am different. I am NOT like you.

How do you clean your mind?

I began, a few moments ago, thinking about how I wished I could remove my brain, throw it in the wash with detergent and later dry it outside on the line in the crisp autumn air.

I can’t literally do that though and that fact irks me especially after a day like today.

I am only able to wash my skin if dirty, exercise if fat and eat if hungry. The mind is different and yes, every one of those things affects the mind indirectly but they cannot immediately rid it of dirt.

This got me thinking about drugs and how I crave them during moments of high stress. Yes, moments, for the urge can pass to instantaneously fix the sleepiness, stupidness or inattentiveness. On days like today though the moments turned into hours and the 15 minute break worked for about 15 minutes upon my return to working. I know, I know there will be days like these.

I wish I had that little bottle on days like these. I wish I had my magic potion. I wish I could sip it into oblivion and be unaware of my own existence, only conscious of other’s insistence.

Today I found two pennies.

Do you have herpes?

I do. Herpes Simplex 1 to be exact. The kind that form on one’s lips. The lips on your face, not the genital ones.

I was blessed at an early age to catch the herpes virus. Sure enough every school year during class photographs a monstrous sore appeared just off center to the right on my bottom lip. Over the years it appeared namely in the same spot for 7 to 10 days.

During stressful times I could be found sporting two cold sores; one of which located itself conveniently in the corner of my mouth and the other off-center on the bottom lip. Smiling or laughing became impossible without blood letting from either sore.

Crack. Drip. Blood.

Self portrait

Since moving back to Saint John, I have had a grand total of 20-25 odd cold sores arriving in all shapes, sizes, visiting for one, two and even three weeks! This is annoying. Last week I looked in the mirror after showering and smiled upon seeing the most recent virus attacks had healed leaving no visible scars. Later that evening I felt that all familiar tingle. I grimaced. I’ve had enough already. GO AWAY! I currently count four cold sores today, all dry and itchy. Over the years I’ve used prescription drugs, peroxide, ozanol, corticosteroid creme, blistex and now burt’s bees with no real speed up on the duration of their pesky visitation.

7-10 days.

loonie

There was one time four years ago when I erupted in sores this badly. It was upon arriving in Vancouver. I had a humongous loonie sized sore located left on my bottom lip. I painted the painting accompanying this post during that time. Six months it took for them to heal completely. Since then I’ve had minor outbreaks no different than during my school years until the beginning of this June 2007.

I am practicing super duper self cleaning regiments as my fingers and hands are broken out in eczema to prevent self-reinfection.

So, I write this post
saying good bye to Herpes
in hopes that letting out
my anger
will.banish.them.into.oblivion!