?

Log in

sucker punch [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
jes

[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ archive | journal archive ]

for anyone interested [Jan. 7th, 2017|12:32 pm]
jes
here is the last thing i put out into the world:

script mall

it's hecka long and good n' weird. i like it, you might not.
link1 comment|post comment

(no subject) [Oct. 27th, 2016|02:47 pm]
jes
"...the fake nails make it hard to type. it's a wet windy night that's coming in through the open window.
it's a moment of calm in a busy week, this one. the "good morning, sir" jeeves butler clock is ticking. includes a few dozen recorded phrases. stephen fry wakes me up with a little quippy line. came from a catalogue. delights me."

so i opened up livejournal for the first time in at least a year, perhaps more. it asked me if i would like to restore from the last draft i had hanging here and i accepted, text above being the result.

i have made a small resolution to write here again, so let's consider this a start.
link10 comments|post comment

(no subject) [Oct. 14th, 2011|10:16 am]
jes
i am 28 this morning - and it's a perfect sloshy rainy day. carlo is getting up, wandering nude from the bed into the living room. instead of reminding him that the curtains are not up, i'm typing a little lj entry.

this past year has been work, all work, for me. i'm in the support services department at aids community care montreal. i make juice, do informal counselling, sit on the board of directors and a steering committee, oversee the vegetable garden, and i'm setting up a new support group for youth living with HIV/AIDS. in short i run around like a mad woman trying to do too many things at once, but despite the singed smell of burnout always lingering in the air, i'm fairly happy.

the home front has been bedbugs and fleas and bedbugs again. montreal is taking her pound of flesh for all these years of cheap and easy renting, it seems.

today i am going to take the bus to the end of the commercial wasteland and buy a cheap ikea mattress, because i had to throw mine out last month. right now i'm drinking tea in the window listening to the cars go down parc avenue in the rain.
link10 comments|post comment

(no subject) [Apr. 11th, 2011|08:03 pm]
jes
hello to all my lost loves.
we've made it through another winter


link1 comment|post comment

a great love [Feb. 3rd, 2011|07:39 pm]
jes
link1 comment|post comment

(no subject) [Nov. 24th, 2010|07:56 pm]
jes
i just must.


link1 comment|post comment

these hips [Sep. 26th, 2010|10:31 pm]
jes
link2 comments|post comment

(no subject) [Apr. 4th, 2010|05:54 pm]
jes
i am in ottawa right now, sitting out on my mother's front porch in a silk dress, drinking water out of an old jelly jar. post easter brunch with the family, i am overfed, wired on hotel coffee, and i think i can hear my mom pulling into the driveway just now.


carlo came to ottawa with me, we lit out on the nine o'clock bus this morning, arriving in the early afternoon. went to brunch with extended family on my mom's side. the whole circus - pregnant cousin, cynical grandmother, over-eating aunt etcetera etcetera.

we rode in the back of my aunt's station wagon, in the seat that faces out the rear window. carlo was almost carsick. we were dropped off at elgin and argyle, across from the museum my dad has spent the past three years or so redesigning. the two of us sat out on the steps of my father's building for a long while, chatting, squinting in the sun.

a brief talk with gina, my father's girlfriend, as she was on her way out to easter at her sister's house, then up into the apartment.

my dad is getting thin. he looks young - unnaturally so. his skin is smooth, all of his facial hair has fallen out save for a little white 'tache' under his lip. he put the radio on as carlo and i took our shoes off. we all scrubbed out hands with antibacterial gel, and dad retired to the big grey armchair that he has been living in of late. he's even got a red tartan blanket for his legs. it is very stylish in a 'country lord with cancer' kind of way.

it turns out that he has spent the past week in the hospital, in isolation. thrush in his mouth ulcerated, went wild. he developed a fever, and checked himself into emergency. he and carlo traded horror stories. i will leave out my simmering frustration with gina, who didn't think to call or write. it would've been nice to know that he was in the hospital , as i'd been ringing him all week and getting the machine.

he's lost his voice. he had the last time we spoke on the phone, effect of the radiation i guess. he croaks and whispers, sometimes breaking through into a stronger voice i recognize. we talked. drank water. i caught myself holding my breath, wanting ot keep my germs to myself. his immune system is shot.

he talked about the radiation machine. said it felt like they were shaving off his life every time he gets on the table, slicing closer and closer to the bone. he called it a 'ring of death', casually. the treatments are hard and he's having a rough time. can't eat or taste, other things are falling apart. his mouth has been a wreck of sores on the inside, he says, but it is starting to improve.

we left early, my dad tired but spirited enough. carlo walked me out. insisted on hugging me in the street, asked me how i felt. i wasn't sure. he said he had thought my dad would be worse. i thought he would be better. it's not clear what to expect.

i walked carlo to the bus, tottering on heels all the way down to catherine street. bummed 20 bucks off of him to take a taxi home, and he gave me a pebble he stole from the decorative rock display in the hotel we ate brunch at. i kissed him goodbye, saw him off, then took a cab. all the way home i put my face to the wind, the window all the way down. held the rock in my hand, along with the little roll of bills. no pockets in this dress.

i came back to my mom's place, took the key out from under the mat. opened the door, planning mentally for a great big dog to come and try to muscle her way outside, but the dog is dead and the house is empty. i took a couple of advil from my sister's old room to try and smooth out a headache, they expired in 2007 and the sugar coating was all fuzzy. not the best.

i've put a load of laundry in, and i'm sitting out on the porch with the sun on my legs. the first flies of the season keep landing on my toes while i type, and i've almost pitched my mom's laptop down the steps a few times. the ants are out too, crawling industriously across my feet and down the stairs. i seem to be sitting in a high-traffic zone.

i want to say i'm tired, but it's not tired. i think it's worried. i'm worried, i guess.

for now the sun is warm and i can hear the red-winged blackbirds calling. they're my favourite bird, if i ever had to choose a favourite. if my mother and grandmother don't come home soon, i might walk down to the river. a little vee of tired, honking canada geese just flew low overhead. the lilacs are budding in the front yard. i'm not sure where i'm going with this, so i'll close now.
link11 comments|post comment

(no subject) [Feb. 27th, 2010|12:37 am]
jes
i'm in ottawa, visiting my father. i'm not sure how much time i have for seeing people, i'm a bit of a mess these days, i will admit.

i often think of posting here, but can't quite thread together what i'd like to say. generally, this is because i've just had a memory that i'd like to convey, but can't find an adequate framework to place it within to make it 'readable'.

eff readable right in the a. this journal is already headed towards being a total bummer again, so i'm going to pad it out with memories.

tonight's story:

i remember, when i lived in toronto, that i lived in many different rooms. one such room was a tiny bedroom/hall closet that i rented for 200 bucks in a junkie house on bartlet street near dufferin and dupont. there are a lot of stories from that house, which was a nest of heroin addicted teenagers and fleas. we had every possible bug, an unimaginably healthy population of mice, and a single pitbull puppy who was poorly cared for. i was seventeen, i think. maybe eighteen.

i remember when my friend noelle came and slept over. noelle was a goth girl with a tattoo of hexadecimal from the tv show reboot. she was angry. all the time. quiet. wanted to be a teacher. her dad died when she was a little girl, she slept in a scarlet bra every night because she was sure it would keep her breasts pert, and we both smoked a lot of cigarettes.

we met in horizons, the homeless shelter i moved into after things collapsed between jairus and venk and i and we all went our separate ways. i was in grade eleven, and the shelter staff couldn't understand why i wanted to be in highschool. i was one of two kids in the shelter who were in school.

noelle and i moved into horizons on the same day. we were roommates in a three bed room. i had the bottom bunk, she had the top, and a rotating cast of insane individuals took the single bed. staff often confused us, calling us by each other's names. noelle had been in the shelter system for years, staying at eva's phoenix and the y and a number of other places. we were close because we had no other choice. i'm not sure if we would have been friends otherwise, our personalities were fairly different and she is, at best, prickly. i don't doubt she finds me obnoxious.

so i lived in the shelter, finished that year of highschool in the shelter, left toronto for the summer and came home to ottawa, then returned and moved straight into the junkie house. friends of mine lived there and it was a very reasonable amount to be asking to rent a closet. i had a child-sized mattress on the floor that took up the majority of the floorspace. in fact, it bowed up at the sides and i slept balled up, cradled in the depression. it was incredibly comfortable. the remaining four or five feet of my room was a wasteland of garbage and possessions, a milk crate full of books and papers, and a pepper plant that had died. i had a window that opened onto the roof, and my roommates and i would climb through it to watch the trains go by. our house was beside the tracks. like, you could touch the side of the house with one hand, and nearly brush your fingers against the passing cn rail freight cars as they went by.

my first good memory of that house is of a meltingly hot summer night. we were draped over couches and chairs, sweltering, when we heard the bell clanging as the arm went down, blocking any cars from crossing the tracks. i was caught up in the frenzy as my five or so roommates tore out of the house, hollering for the train, and we all stood with our arms open, inches from the giant freight cars whipping by, letting the first cool breeze we'd felt in days wash over us. that was a magnificent feeling.

so noelle came over one night. i pierced her bridge with a needle as she sat on the couch. we shit talked and then stole couch pillows from under one of my roommates who had nodded out, oblivious to our presence. we made a nest in my room, having no other choice, and slept side by side on the floor in a pile of pillows. what i remembered, today, was waking up in the afternoon. maybe even the evening. we woke up at about the same time, and both fumbled for our smokes and our lighters. my eyes were barely even open and i was smoking a JPS, the black pack with the gold foil stamped letters embossed on the front. we smoked three or four cigarettes. it was luxurious. it was revolting. just lying there, coming awake, drawing on cigarettes and making plumes of smoke, cramped together in a room so small we couldn't extend our legs.

that's the memory for tonight.
link2 comments|post comment

(no subject) [Feb. 16th, 2010|05:27 pm]
jes
zero degrees today, and i walked around in sneakers that just about qualify as socks for all the sloppy formlessness of them and doubtful sole protection they offer. i've never been one to miss the day. the sun sucks, friends, and not just because of my gothical inclinations. i have migraines and, for me, sunlight is nearly impossible to see in. i walk down the street in the summer navigating mostly by sound, watching my feet more than anything, squinting.

but over the past few years i've found i really miss the summer, the sunshine during the days, the warmth of evenings that die grandly and slowly. i remember freida telling me that she was in a bad state most winters because of the lack of light, and i'm pretty sure i said 'fuck that i hate the sun'. which is true.

that said, i'm beginning to wonder if i need it more than i used to. even the dim promise of 'warmth' and sunlight drove me out of the house to try and absorb it. i walked aimlessly, up and down alleys in my neighbourhood looking at the defrosting garbage.

just some thoughts on sunshine.
link15 comments|post comment

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]