I'm back in Montreal. My roommates disappeared five days ago, so I've been in this giant apartment alone. It's so empty and hollow and echoey.
I'm drinking some wine in my big empty apartment in a hard wooden office chair at a hard metal desk with cats on my pillows. I'm having one of those moments where I really want to start eating better, exercising, and getting up early. It'll pass. I wish it wouldn't but it will.
I'm trying to sing some songs but I lost my voice yesterday.
I am taking a break from drawing the backs of people's heads and noses with fingers stuck in them.
I look like I grew a bunch of freckles on my nose but I actually just scratched the shit out of my face in my sleep creating tiny brown scabs on my nose. I would be really hawt with freckles. I should have more nightmares.
I went into the woodshop last week to rip apart some chairs and put them back together. The woodshop technician was telling me all these crazy stories. There was a shooting at my school many years ago. A professor shot four students. A couple months ago a drunk guy threw a bicycle through the window of the VAV gallery, and a hobo tried to steal the security guard's lunch.
Yesterday I went to a party and the theme was "fat." Actually such a good theme. Rubbed stuffed pillow bellies on the dancefloor and ate mini hot dogs.
I accidentally hooked up with a 17 year old kid who looked like Sid Vicious last week. We now affectionately refer to him as Kid Vicious. Oops, I still have his badass skunk tank top. No more hookups. I want to be celibate for a while. Which might be difficult considering my vibrator has mysteriously disappeared. How does a thing like that disappear?
I can feel myself getting into some sort of French Canadian winter funk. Shit. I need some vitamin D and a van and some music and a lake. It's not easy to be cheery when I have to wear an ankle length coat that makes me look like either a giant upright caterpillar or a giant black tampon.
