I thought yesterday was Friday

Went to copacabana for some beers last night with a friend and his brother.
Maybe that's why I thought it was Friday yesterday. Managed to maintain a good level of drunkeness all night.
So what is it with me and weirdos on the metro? Today a guy who looked pretty normal (although those ones never are the normal ones, think about Ted Bundy - Ted, not Al) came on the metro and openly gawked and stared at me. I ignored him, and he stood right next me (even though the metro was pretty empty), then he stood directly in front of me and stared. I put on my best bitchy, get lost face... so he sat beside me. I kept acting like I couldn't see him and he finally got off the metro. Of course it was at the same stop as me, but I got off after him and waited until he was out of sight... and this was all in the middle of the day.

I didn't drink enough water last night/this morning so I have got the worst headache... I think it also has to do with how humid it has been all day. This city and its crazy amount of humidity is going to be the death of me. Tis the season of excessive sweating and stickiness.
I never even really heard of humidity until I moved here. In Regina, there is no such thing as humidity. The plains are dry and flat... straightforward if you will.
Or boring. It really depends on how much hallucinogens one has consumed.
The more the merrier I sometimes say.

I have been craving martinis in fun glasses. Beer is so stale during the rainy season.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall...

There are cracks in everything these days.

Cracks in my plastic salad bowl, cracks in the walls, cracks in my sanity, and cracks in my families' stability. I'm pretty upset about the salad bowl because it was one of my sturdiest and most trusted. Now what will I do?

I've been having this reoccuring dream over the past little while and it is the most frustrating dream ever. In it, I am with my husband and we are somewhere, doing something. The hard part is that I can barely see, just like when my eyes get really tired at night and I have to squint to see the TV or computer screen. I am walking around in the dream trying really hard to see anything. I keep thinking to myself that if I can just get some eyedrops, I wlll be able to see better again, but for some reason I never say this aloud to my husband. I just keep squinting and trying really hard to see something through the blurry fog.
The weird part is throughout the whole time in the dream I keep feeling that all I ever really need to see in life is right in front of me, if I could just make it out.
That's why I keep squinting harder and harder. I keep getting this urgent feeling that everything I ever need to see is right in front of me.

I guess I can figure out what that dream means, but in a way, I still can't see right so I don't know what it is that's in front of me that is so damn important.

What am I missing??
What do I need to see?

Tony was the boss, that's a fact of life

I was just thinking about "The Facts of Life". I wish I could remember more about it, but for some reason the only two things that come to mind are Tutti and the fat one (I don't even remember her characters' name). I guess they aren't things but rather people. Wait. I'll leave it at things.
Hey, I also remember Blaire. She had really ashy blonde hair that looked like horsehair.
I wonder what the show I was like... I seriously can't remember. But I do know I hated the song at the beginning. I always thought the lady who sang it sounded really pretentious and Mary Poppons-ish. Like she was doing her dishes and arranging her record collection while she was singing the damn song.
Get off your high-horse.

I'm very happy that it snowed over the weekend. It's like a spit in the face to anyone who actually believed winter was over. Ha, ha!
Winter in Montreal is much shorter than in Saskatchewan, where it usually starts around September/October. That's when they get snow, enough so that it doesn't melt away until sometime in April or May.
That's why I don't think winter out here is anything. It barely gets cold here. Not long enough to notice it anyway.

I had a very indulgent weekend which should mean it's back to the grind today, except that I don't have a grind... on purpose.
What does today mean then? Well, it's back to creatively planning my days and giving as much time to writing as I can. Although I find it's much easier to be able to say, "I didn't have enough time today... boo hoo"
When I do make the time and stick with it, I get a lot done, or nothing good done, or something in between. But the point is that I am using the time instead of not making time and using that as an excuse not to put anything out. (I think I am justifying something to myself here)

Who cares anyway... writers are so annoying. It's the nature of the beast, but it disgusts me. I feel like I'm always talking about the writing and whether I had a productive day or if my mind is shutting down again. I don't like being so grotesquely conscious of myself.
I want to be anonymous in every way possible... like, "who's that girl?"
It's like being the girl desperately seeking Susan without knowing that she is Susan.

Hey, that would be a great swedish re-make of Desperately Seeking Susan. In black and white of course.

I can't stop thinking about this one quote from The Last Crossing:

"Aloysius said he arrived in America from Ireland just a babe in arms, but once he got off the potato diet, he grew like a weed. He is a prodigious height, six-foot-four in his stockings..."

It makes me imagine his mum holding him as they step off a boat and he is just a baby, but gnawing on a huge potato.
Then I can see him growing super fast, with his legs and arms sprouting out of the baby blanket... sort of like a weed.

I just can't stop imagining all the repercussions of this quote... super tall men from Ireland, potatoes, and stockings.