I finally bought an Etch-A-Sketch.

I was all nervous about Wiener Schnitzel when I returned my videos. I don't know if it was because I was afraid he would be there or because he wouldn't be there. Who can tell these things?

Harold Lloyd did more for eyeglasses than any man in early film history.

I think I'm the last person I know who didn't have a MySpace account... now that I have one I feel kind of lame.

I feel like the Internet hates me. I have no "Internet friends", only "flesh" friends. Hmmm. No strangers to read my inner-most thoughts. It's about as useful as talking to this bronze frong that's looking at me. I guess I'm not really an Internet person, and I'm trying to be one, or something.

I watched "Crumb", this time I got through the whole thing, barely. I had pretty much seen all of it before, except the part where his brother sits on the bed of nails. Basically the point of the movie was: "If your family is completely insane, just try not to sit around and think about it too much and you'll come out slightly less messed up than the rest of your family."

I think the next one I'll rent is the one where the cannibal eats his own guts.

Bell Canada can suck my dirty, fuzzy cock.

Porter Wagoner has manifested himself to me three times today: first appearing on my CD player, then on the Ali G show (of all places), and then his picture was in a very old e-mail from a friend I haven't seen in more than a year. Is he even still alive?

More important...what does it mean?!?

I feel as though I'm already living at my new apartment - I feel welcomed by my new home. My mind is always there, planning, looking around, looking into the future.

Went to the Wheel Club last night - I always get a boost after I go, it makes me like being around other human beings again. It makes me want to sing more. Everyone is so sweet there, and if they you're good, they tell you so. There was a trio of pretty funny French rockabilly guys ("you can do hanything but lay hoff my blue suede shoes"). Moon and her mom went back to China, possibly for always. Hopefully, I'll see them again.

I'm a hungry woman.

Matty left for his Grand Tour this morning, leaving me with only a bronze frog for company. I feel like this summer has been incredibly unproductive, but I can't think of the reason why... it's a nagging feeling.

I told Moon's parents I was moving to Verdun, and she overheard them talking about it and started to cry... I felt sooo guilty. Sometimes I wish she wasn't so intelligent, and I wouldn't have to like her so much.

Excited for August and school... I keep thinking that this year will put the first year into perspective, because from here I can't really say much about it.

And the days went by
Like paper in the wind
Everything will change
Then change again

I'm tired of crowds... leave me alone, crowd.

So I dreamt that Sean Moore, a man of principles, came back from travelling and he had short salon-dreadlocked hair. Hmmm...

Jazz Fest Update: Saw Annie DeMelt talking to the old African voodoo man just outside The Art Tent. All the most famous artists that ever existed in Quebec came through the Tent and I had no idea who they were. The Neville Brothers were amazing.

My man Matty Watson just opened two suitcases that were in our new oven - one of them contained mid-nineties porn, the other a real ATARI gameset with about 20 games in it... WOO WOO!

Best morning ever!

Cover story of The Hour this week: an up-close and personal, indepth view at Julie Doucet's dirty plotte...

The last few days have all been kind of falling nicely together - it hasn't been good for my liver, but it sure has been good for the soul... Yesterday I partook in 3 barbecues, each of them with a distinct "ambiance" (but if anyone offers me another hot-dog, I'll throw up).

Friday, I bought a really neat slingshot at the dollar store, and then we went to see Alan's big band in Montreal West playing at a family barbecue - inflatable games, picnic tables, parents dancing awkwardly with their toddlers - the real deal. I wanted cotton candy but the machine broke down everytime I got in line. Then to a CD launch where every single person I've ever met in my whole life was there for me to make awkward chit-chat with. I jumped into my escape pod and jetted to Honey Martin's for a night of Dirty Ol' Duo.

Saturday was the Fete Nationale (National Partytime). Molly Mae Alice McGregor Griffin turned one-year-old, and so it was Saint-Molly-Baptiste Day, the anniversary of Quebecers lighting enormous bonfires in dense residential areas. Babies, dogs, fingerpainting, wet diapers dripping on my leg. Awaaayy...
To The Point - everybody got together and played some Bocci ball, drank beer and made merry.
Then we went to Scott's place - everyone strummed the guitar and sang funny songs.

Life seems full and beautiful to me right now - there's always someone I can find to talk to, and there's always lots to say. Everyone's story gets a new line written in it daily - and on and on and on and on and on.

If there's one disease I don't want, it's the one where your ass and legs gain an enormous amount of weight while your upper body remains normal. I wonder if that has a name? Is it some kind of elephantitis? It must feel a lot like sitting on a bean bag all the time. I've heard it's pretty rare, but if anyone with this particular disease happens to read this, don't be insulted or whatever. I'm just curious.

Anyway, so this "tele-survey" thing was pretty weird. It was all very 1984, the jargon they give you is very... New-Speakesque. It feels very far removed from la vraie vie, and I guess the no windows thing doesn't help. What gets me about all this "market research" is just that; they're trying to find out what 'the public wants', etc etc all very noble; but what they can't figure out is that what the 'public' doesn't want is a stranger calling and asking them in detail about their level of satisfaction (on a scale of 1 to 10) with their current brand of adult diapers. Anyway, I'm sure I'm betraying some kind of confidential information here... I could be TERMINATED. (See what I mean?) I'm thinking of TERMINATING myself and not going to the second day of training. I met this cool Irish girl who's in Montreal for the summer, so I guess it wasn't all bad. All in all though, they were a pretty rag-tag bunch.

It was pretty funny actually - at one point, the trainer was explaining to us morons about the importance of 'demeanor', and used herself as an example, see, 'cause from her demeanor you wouldn't say that she goes home every night and cries herself to sleep (she actually said this), but, y'know, maybe she does cry herself to sleep at night, but because of her DEMEANOR you could never tell.

Note to dorks: Speaking at a ridiculous volume does not make you look smarter, nor does using the word "currently" 100,000 times.

I had a good time with Moon-moon drawing with Mr. Sketch markers - we gave each other Mr. Sketch henna tattoos.

Ugh ugh ugh... I'll have to wash after this guy leaves... soooooo awkward....