In heaven I’m going to eat a pile of donuts and drink a bunch of beer, forever. Get drunk, stuff my fucking face, sit on a cloud and yell at people. “Hey! You! Get off of my cloud.” Also I won’t share. Tell everyone to get their own goddamn donuts and beer. Plus I won’t sing hymns. Fuck that. I might however still write my little stories. Lay down wry vignettes about God, ruthlessly chronicle all his errors and highlight his mistakes. Spend the rest of my time rolling my eyes and smirking.
Women need to think less about tearing each other down and more about lifting each other up. Envy, jealousy and bitterness will make you really ugly, no matter how beautiful you think you are. Life is a team sport and you’re only as good as your team. Your life won’t be good if your team isn’t good. Without real friendship and family and love, you’re fucked.
Shivers is mad. Like how do you produce work that’s that creative, interesting, fucked up and original, way before everyone else, way different than everyone else, and coming out of somewhere as placid as Canada. The Canadian Arts Council even funded his work despite its twisted and envelope pushing nature. So inspiring and impressive. Fuck yeah David Cronenberg.
Pro tip: Men don’t be assholes and ladies by all means be a bitch, just don’t overdo it because there is such a thing as being too bitchy. Also if you don’t think I’m smart and funny we probably can’t be friends. If I don’t think you’re smart and funny we definitely can’t be friends. And if I haven’t said “I don’t like you” doesn’t mean I do. Also don’t be a freeloader or a user. Other people do not exist merely for you to take advantage of them. Also don’t talk my ear off about your problems, especially if you’re not going to take my advice, especially if you don’t actually want your situation to change or improve. Nothing is automatic in this world. Human relationships are complicated and difficult. They require constant maintenance, diligence, focus and hard work, but so does being good at anything, including being a good person.
Just had a grand homecoming after running some errands. Daisy and Feather are my number one fans, almost to the point of desperation. Dylan said when I left they went into crisis mode and whimpered and wailed and wouldn’t settle down, Dylan had to hold Feather tightly for a while as she was shaking uncontrollably. Both dogs ran to every possible window and pawed the door and cried and took ages to become quiet. Then they absolutely lost it when I returned. It’s lovely, even heartbreaking, but I hope with time they can get to be a little less fervent, though I’ll admit being loved this deeply and missed this intensely does feel good. Dylan claims he loves and misses me just as deeply and intensely when I’m away and I said “Lol” and he said “I do” and then he pouted, as though the pout is sufficient to make the claim true.
Jason said there were a lot of people at the funeral, too many to count. “Jeez,” I said to Dylan, “probably like 2 people would come to my funeral. Even you, you’d make a big stink. Sigh and complain. Grumble about having to drag yourself away from the studio.” “Haha,” said Dylan, barely listening. Then he said, “That’s not true. I’d be devastated.” “Um, yeah you would,” I said loudly, to help him drive home the point. And we laughed about how at Dylan’s funeral, all his students would gather around the coffin with last minute Ableton questions while the hapless minister, flanked by world-weary go-go dancers, would have trouble getting a word in edgewise, and end up in a rap battle with a belligerent MC, while aspiring producers made it rain demo cds.
A girl asked me “do you want to be in my gang” I said “what are the requirements” she said “you have to be a little bit Asian and a little bit crazy” I said “you just 100% described me.” My dentist swears up and down that someone comes into her office that looks exactly like me, she even talks like me and has the same laugh apparently. My dentist had all the dental assistants and the receptionists gather around to see and they murmured agreement. I said listen I don’t know who this bitch is but I’d love to meet her she sounds amazing. “Dissolve” by Liquid Stranger is a wonderful song and so is “Dark Souls” by Eprom.
Daisy’s new outfit is a hit, I think it’s her best dress yet. Before she had a little pale blue gingham dress I thought was the best and before that she wore a miniature onesie that had pizza slices printed all over it and it was looking like the pizza onesie was the winner. We live in an industrial area surrounded by large trucks, construction and men at work. Every day the workmen shout, “Good morning Foster Mommy” and they call the dogs “Little Fosters.” I guess someone’s told them our whole life story. Along part of the walk we pass a fenced in lot where a large unhealthy Doberman barks his head off and menaces the girls. Daisy is terrified of the Doberman and always requests to be protected and carried. The Doberman has the dog version of a dad bod and he’s not really that scary, he’s just huge, especially compared to Daisy. He’s just doing his job. Feather gets all excited and gnashes her teeth, she expresses happiness and excitement in charming ways. Both girls are so incredibly sweet, they’re really great, I love them deeply and more every day.
Waking up to Feather and Daisy squished in bed with us gazing at me lovingly catapults me to another energetic plane. They’re so adorable and affectionate it’s almost too much for my heart. I didn’t think anything could come between me and Dylan but I got to hand it to these two, they’re like a dream come true. From the moment I wake up and see them, the day starts on a happy note.
Mealtimes which used to be complicated are now enjoyable for all. I measure out precise amounts for XS, S, M sized dogs and I pile the portions. Then I sit in my big white chair on wheels with little Daisy protected in my lap so she can partake unabated. I place the bowls for Mizu and Feather to my right and left. Then all three dogs wolf the fuck out of their food in seconds flat like they never ate a damn meal in their lives. Makes me feel like I should refill their bowls because I didn’t give them enough, but I know that many domesticated dogs are vastly underexercised and overfed and so I resist. They’ll eat again at dinner and then they’ll also have another walk. Our new routine is so good. Waking up to these dogs is a delight. Walking them, playing with them, taking care of them, loving them, it’s game on. This is a dog bonanza. Dylan runs exuberantly around the house shouting, “Dogs! Dogs! Dogs!” Meanwhile Mizu be like yo what the fuck dude I thought I was your favourite dog who be these other two bitches.
Dylan had a Jamaican American friend come do vocals for this track and I could hear him doing takes through the wall. “CTHULHU,” the Jamaican American said in a drawn out low heavily ominous tone that was thug as fuck. Then he said, “Like that? Was that good? Is that how you want it?” in a melodious inquiring voice like a highly congenial airline stewardess. I was in the next room silently cracking up. Today “Cthulhu” by ill.Gates is released and it is straight fire. Filthy like a motherfucker. Rising from the deep! Get it here → soundcloud.com/ill-gates
Dylan said, “I can’t do a handstand” and I said, “What the fuck are you talking about, everyone can do a handstand.” Dylan said he couldn’t and I didn’t believe him so I pepped him up and forced him to try. Dylan got caught up in my hype, dutifully got into position and did a handstand. I said, “See, you can do a handstand fine.” Then Dylan’s upside-down facial expression changed from mild interest to concern and terror while his body crumpled down like Building 7 during 9/11. The total picture was so hilarious I clutched at my stomach and hyperventilated. “I told you I couldn’t do a handstand,” Dylan said sadly. “Hahaha! I guess I should have believed you!” I said and I didn’t even feel bad for laughing.
Back when I used to have a day job. I feel a little sorry for anyone who’s never had the pleasure of being paid $300/hour to do things like tie random men up, hurl insults at them, make demands, kick them in their stupid balls and piss on their stupid faces. Shit was so fun I would have done it for free. So much more than just easy money, I got to dress up gorgeous, drink, smoke, have my feet kissed and be worshiped while I tortured people. Life every day literally was a goddamn party. Basically I eventually had to quit because nobody should be having that much fun all of the time. Takes the fun out of having fun. Now I just read books, write stories, exercise, clean, make art and dream about dogs. Admittedly I am still having fun. But shouldn’t wish for strife in a life because that shit will come.
If everyone likes you, you’re too palatable, you’re playing it too safe, and following all the rules. If everyone hates you, obviously that’s also not cool. If some people love you, and some people hate you, and both sides are passionate, you’re probably onto something good. Keep going. Here’s looking at you.
Recently I acquired some glorious new clothing accessories, all woven small gold metal plates across the shoulders with many gold chain accents that are long and fine and draping. The total effect is very opulent, feminine and really lovely. Later at home while writing at my desk, I could hear Dylan behind me sort of rummaging and fidgeting. There was to his maneuvers an edge of suppression and secrecy. I ignored him and continued to work because I could tell Dylan was up to something and I thought I’d let him have his eventual moment, whatever that shit might turn out to be. At length Dylan approached immediately near behind me. “Sup,” he said in a voice meant I guess to approximate the impassive listlessness of a sexy thug. Unhurriedly I turned around. There’s Dylan standing completely naked nonchalant hand upon jaunty hip wearing nothing more than my luscious gold metal shoulders bling. The many long fine draping chains swooshed with absurd seductiveness against his pale bare skin. “Sup,” he said again. Keeping my expression perfectly neutral I gazed at Dylan and made a casual motion for my phone. “Hold up babe,” I said. “I’m filming this.” “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!” said Dylan as he scampered away in a fit of terror and giggling.