top this, usain bolt

as i have been on hiatus for a while due to being uninspired, i failed to update my boycott on bathing for quite some time. i'd just like to note that i showered on the eleventh day. it deserved a soundtrack.

the clouds have passed, they weren't here for long

a series of events have transpired in my life today, they continue to unfold as these words are created, and i can hear the tap running upstairs. the toilet has flushed at least 5 damn times. it's 3:40 and doors are slamming open and shut, and spirits are running high and low. right now, i lay on the pull-out sofa like it's my only choice. both my feet hurt, for the first time in a long time. it feels good. do you give a fuck? no, but i need to write.

merriam-webster's third definition of irony:

"an incongruity between the actual result of a sequence of events and the normal or expected result"

i know there's a lot of discussion about how to define irony, but i just want to state that some, only some, of the events seem ironic to me, among other perceptions. i'm no english buff, so it's precisely whatever.

there are new holes in my old house.

i worked for 16 hours today and it was fun. executive suites at tennis matches. there was a thunderstorm and a tornado near the stadium. it evoked fear, despair, and stress in everyone. a game of finesse was postponed by the brute strength of nature.

i worked for investment bankers. investment bankers gave me diddlysquat after serving them all day in their executive box while they watched their womens tennis. perverts, but i shouldn't talk. plus these men are good men, and they love their families too. i saw them texting their wives to make sure everything was peachy where they were.

"i'm good here honey, there's a great view and all sorts of delicious food and alcohol in the air-conditioned shelter that i'm in right now. what elements? even better, there's a guy in here to serve it all to me with a pleasant smile on his scowl!"

they were actually really nice and tips shouldn't be expected, dummy.

i texted amy right after i watched a tornado form (for those of you who don't know, amy is my on-again, off-again, back on-again, back off-again, back on-again, then off again girlfriend/friend/confidant/lover/enemy/ally/exgirlfriend, got that?) to make sure she was okay. i should have called but of course i didn't, because we were both at work, or something.

right, so work was fun. the actual work. the people i work with, and the work i did for 16 hours was the best part of my day. what was the best part of your day?

the night prior to the day of work i just finished working (just finished now), me and amy had a serious, slightly unpleasant, and scary conversation. i won't go into it any further, but it felt like clouds were forming above my head. sure enough, they came. in the form of clouds.

during certain moments of my 16 hours of fun, i'd remember the conversation her and i had the night before the day of work, which was today, but really was yesterday, though the conversation technically happened yesterday and all of a sudden i wasn't so fun. my concept of time is bent right now.

but i kept high spirits until i got home.

well, not home, but to my friends' house, which is known as newhomefreeland so i call it home. haa, i'm gonna name a house "newhome" in the future. or freeland. we might get some squatters.

i arrived safe from work, and i didn't know what to do with myself. i was sad, desolate, tired, and sweaty. so me and the tall drunk guy who's drunk and says stuff to me that generally makes sense most of the time, smoked pot together and successfully said things to each other. on pot. i came to the conclusion that i should not continue saying things to him, but that i should rather say things to the person that was the subject of the things that we were saying to each other. matt and i, we're such conversationalists.

so, i called amy and we came to the rational, mature, intelligent, calm, powerful, and simple agreement that maybe 3rd time's a charm. well, it wasn't that simple, but there is a sense of agreement as to why. we've never broken up in person. and this very well may be a different story had i not made a phone call. oh, how blissful presence trumps all.

minutes before we came to this decision and while on the phone, my asian ex-roommate and her white boyfriend who's also my friend, got home in what seemed to be very low spirits. not even a hi. not even eye contact.

me: "herrrroooo there!"

interracial couple: "......"

me: "steph and drew are fighting, amy."


shortly after this, i heard noises coming from my asian ex-roommate's room. they didn't sound like fun noises. it made me sad.

i went on facebook after me and amy got off the phone and saw a new picture i was tagged in. i finally noticed the irony in making "meet me in the bathroom in 10 mins. heart, FF" cue cards as a party joke, and ending up in the bathroom with someone who was too drunk to even read a card. in less than 10 minutes of arriving at the party. it made me think about how much i hated relationships at that time. and how i would fight and argue with anyone to prove to them how they were doomed no matter what.

me: "whats shakin?"

her: "me and my boyfri-"

me: "dump him."

i kind of like relationships now, though this is an unfamiliar tune to sing.

minutes after me and amy got off the phone for the night (pleasantly, may i add) my latvian ex-roommate barges in and is livid. him and his some-race-or-other girlfriend, who was also at the tornado thunder show, are fighting. i'd never seen him so pissed off/frustrated/worked up/not worked enough.

me: "come here buddy, lets talk"

latvian ex-roommate: "I DON'T WANNA TALK. I'M PISSED OFF (motions he's fighting with his girlfriend)."

me: "me and amy broke up again."

lativan ex-roommate: "..."

shortly after this, i heard noises coming my latvian ex-roommate's room, and they didn't sound like pretty noises. they also made me sad. latvia punched a new hole in my old upstairs bathroom door, which already has one anger hole from a boot that belongs to yet another ex-resident of this house. i might punch one just for the fuck of it. it'd be more of a calm understanding hole. also, travis has a swollen hand.

it speaks volumes about mine and amy's relationship as anything (lovers, friends, whatever) that we can break up quietly and without a fight. maybe we've done it so many times that we're both used to it. maybe we just don't care as much as we think we do. we've been through more than most, and in a very short period of time. you don't break up, then get over it, then see other people, then get back together, then break up again, then get back together, then break up again, without learning something about yourself and the person you're rollercoasting with. we take the things we love about each other and exhaust them until one of us takes the other out of the state of bliss we're in through our actions or words. then all the things we don't like about each other come out, and we fight. neither of us like being upset with each other so we make up at the speed of sound. but the things we don't like about each other remain. lather, rinse, repeat.

i can't keep chasing stability.

so tonight, i imagine things were thrown, swears were said, and fingers were pointed. i know doors were slammed and punched. tempers flew, and everyone fought tonight. but not me and amy. it was not normal or expected. in the midst of the calmest and most rational breakup i've ever had, there was a shit storm flying around in the house.

tomorrow, the two couples upstairs will still be together and i will be back in an executive box at the rogers cup. though i'm not sure which one and not sure for how long.

put me to bed before 4:51am

sometimes you make texts. sometimes they make sense. sometimes you read them in the morning. sometimes you can't read. sometimes things get, whatever.


outgoing:

hearts and kisses, <3fuck you<3, im your boyfriend=) i love you so much- theres a squirrel on my neck, garage parakeet

incoming:

.........

outgoing:

i miss you

incoming:

.........

if my memory serves me right, i was thinking of die hard and how much bruce willis is a class act.

fistfail: "they we're like, this big"


my sweet bitch. SHE'S UNIMPRESSED.

let's play 'guess the bar'

here, i perform the illusion of breaking the law by smoking in a washroom. this is an illusion, it is not a trick. a trick is something that a whore does for money. or cocaine. thanks to George Oscar Bluth (GOB) for teaching me to differentiate between the two. please send all answers to prevail21@hotmail.com, thanks to djH for the picture.

heh, heh, heh, heh, cough, ahem, heh, heh

love don't dance here anymore

this song accurately mirrors my sentiment about moving on from this beautiful place me and some of my closest friends call home. it also makes you wanna dancecry, if that's a thing.

djH i'd like to request this as the end of night closer to your set.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28fxZ8vMi-c

newhomefreeland, photo courtesy of drew 'crazy' woods

my glass is half full after one sip

day 6:

it's been six glorious days and i feel rejuvenated and sticky. the thing about boycotting bathing is that once you take the leap, you realize that we put way too much emphasis on being shiny and polished. i mean, sure, take a shower, put on your threads, do what you do to get beautiful and i'm sure you'll beam confidence afterward. but trust me, this state of full blast pheromones is exhilarating. just have a sniff. i feel great, look great, and great things have happened to me since i got off 'the showers'. kicked a bad habit y'know?

-i filled all the rooms in my new house, Vanilla Fortress at bathurst and college
-i saw all of my co-workers who's company i've missed for the last month and a half because of my broken foot
-i ate too much meat at a barbecue
-i drank too much beer at a barbecue
-it's my mom's birthday soon and i sent her a card (hi mom, i know you're reading my blog)
-i washed my bedsheets and did my laundry (dirty boy, clean bed- get down/in on it)

i asked a girl (yeah, a girl) how i smelled this afternoon, and her answer was "like a peach". that's pretty damn good for 6 days. if only i could find one that likes to be a hot, sweaty mess too. i will literally smell you.

sniff, sniff/photo courtesy of drew 'crazy' woods

"young pungent filipino male seeks equally odorus female, preferably with pale skin, red hair and an affinity for dairy products"

mandarin: 1, fistfight: 0

no clothes party? wear a menu and some napkins. don't say anything but "herro, me rikey your costume. you rikey mine?"

bring a white friend as a buffer. dress him in a black garbage skirt and a clear v-neck. give him a tinsel belt. he rocks. tell people his name is tankhouse.

this tutorial will be $400 dollars.

how you rikey my brojob???