five deadly everythings...

LOL

From my mans Dec'...spelling out my name in words:

To Owe
Or To Harm, Pride
Incopetently Cut,
Knowing Today's Options Opress
Treasures Hung, Portruding
In Conclusions
Killed

Dec, one love, you real.

peace,
-Tp

Posted by Scene -- at 1:13:00 a.m. | Permalink

My 3rd Foray Into E-Mail Activism, LOL

So yea, check out these racist t-shirts that I found:

Racist T-shirts
Sum Ting Wong
Dum Gai Buffet
Long Dong

(PROGRAMMING ERROR: okay, yea...the links seems to be invisible...and I can't change the color. If you can't see them, just highlight them...they're there, I swear! peace,-J)

Ha, so anyways. I wrote this really cheesy e-mail to the makers of the T-shirt...and whatever. I wasn't even expecting them to respond. But they DID. And so I'm like, cool...I thought the response would be a professional "blahblahblah" explaining that it's just a joke, and I should lighten up, or whatever. Which would be cool. Cuz honestly, I'm like, whatever. This is a no-name company, and ppl prolly aren't going to buy these t-shirts anyways...cuz they're stupid. But THIS was their response (followed by my original, and, I repeat, cheesy, letter):


From : "Todd Goldman"

To : "jeff c."
Subject : RE: your t-shirts
Date : Tue, 28 Oct 2003 14:03:31 -0500

OK...THANKS


-----Original Message-----
From: jeff c. [mailto:@hotmail.com]
Sent: Tuesday, October 28, 2003 12:34 PM
To: dgoliath@tampabay.com; todd@davidandgoliathtees.com
Subject: your t-shirts


Sigh...I know you are just trying to be funny, and you like the attention that is garnered by offending people...but really. Your racist t-shirts suck. They ARE horribly racist, you know that, right? I too am sick of political correctness, stuffy leftists that get all in a tiff about representation and blahblahblah. But really, your t-shirts are horribly racist. I'm probably the hardest Asian to offend...and your t-shirts offended me. And if your goal was to offend people, to make a statement, why make it racial? And why pick only on East Asians? At least have the decency to pick on a variety of races/cultures. If you did at least that, it would give the impression that you are not making fun of certain races per se, but at the sensitivity of reactionary politics. But instead...you pick only on Asians. Racist racist racist.

Please, just stop making/selling the t-shirts. They are hurtful. Maybe that word means nothing to you....

peace,
-Jeff C.


"OK...THANKS" ??? Haha, in all CAPS-LOCK? In BLUE FONT too, which you can't see here. Who runs this company? A 16 yr old? Lord....

But anyways, yea. I'm more offended now by the e-mail than by the actual t-shirts. Feel free to send him hate mail...though I'm sure that's what they want anyways.

peace,
-J.

Posted by Scene -- at 11:15:00 p.m. | Permalink

It's a New Jack City

...that title has nothing to do with anything. But that's how life has been lately..random. No prevailing theme going on. No depression, no drama at work, no drama with Chris, parties, no writing being done, no big revelations.

Oh yay, I tied everything in nicely, I'm sooo clever.

The skip-level meeting today was aight. Got nothing to say really. It was kinda uneventful. I thought was eating vegetarian pizza though, and I wasn't.

My bag smells like nag champa. I don't think that's a good thing. I had a good day with Christianne today...it felt like when we first started going out.

Why is it that the more Cindy is borrowing books from me and Mark about Buddhism and Taoism, the bigger her ego gets and the more she starts rubbing people the wrong way? It's a strange phenomenon. But Jill is back. It's strange...Jill is a much more pleasant prescence than Cindy right now. I was actually happy to see Jill.

Talked to Chris about being a writer. She actually thinks I should do it. I really wanna trust her opinion, cuz really, she's the only one who's opinion I would trust about stuff like that. But she *is* my girlfriend. She's supposed to be supportive an shit like that.

Blueberry/Bannana smoothies from Treats are the shit, man. So fuggin good.

My blogs have been really boring.

Sorry everyone who reads.

All two of you.

haha.

peace,
-J.

Posted by Scene -- at 1:17:00 a.m. | Permalink

bored...

the older I get/ the older it gets/ the more I forget to give a shit/ even a little bit.../ a little shit turned into a game of craps/ in the name of dads/ everywhere/ never care/ keep movin....

keep the motion stirring/ especially when the ghost starts unfurling/ it's claws/ drawing lines across my mind/ a sketch of Jeff/ this death and I remember it/ i been here before/ chalk lines across the floor/ in the outline of time/ I outshine any rhyme cuz this shit lives forever/ my spit drills holes in 'never'/ time is non-linear/ my rhymes are non-literal/ peep the metaphors/ mythical centaurs and fables/ listen to the meat/ but understand the vegetables under the table

i spit more info than cables/ more scripture than paper/ i got a list but can't share it, a top ten most wanted/ most daunting tasks in life/ take a crack at my flask and watch the science pour out/ scientists get worn out eyein this specimen/ a phenom b-boy/ recon and destroy...

ehhh...this sucks. bye.

-Tp.

Posted by Scene -- at 2:54:00 a.m. | Permalink

blob of a blog

sigh..so I tried to write a poem, tried to keystyle a bit...nuthin going on nada. I guess I got block again. Fugg. I need some weed. I really do. Or even just regular smokes. A cigarette would be nice. I think I did it: I'm addicted to caffeine. damn.

Jill might have cancer. How fukked up is that? It's a secret though, don't go telling. I wouldn't want to blow up her spot like that. There's certain things you don't put on blast, and this is one of them.

I'm gonna re-start my other blog. My pop-cultural studies blog. But less polished. The reason I stopped posting was because I was too lazy to keep writing essays. But now I know...no more essays. Just like blog. But...topical. Yea. I think it'll be good. Gimmie a week.

Skip-level meeting on Monday is suspect (ha, Jee!). I see right through it. "Our chance to talk to John about the store". Buuuuhhhh-shit! We'll talk for about an hour-and-a-half, and then it's John's turn to ream us for two hours. Fugg that. I'm not playing his games, just so he can turn shit around on us. I'm keeping my mouth shut until he's said his piece. He's laying his cards on the table first. I ain't stupid, Starbucks, stop treating me like I am.

I'm gettin more into west-coast hhip. I used to be mostly straight east...and yah, I still fucks wit Jay and 'em...but Quannum and them boys got me interested.

I haven't handed in *one* thing on time this year. Shit's been rough...I'm a natural procrastinator....my first year with a full course load....working...been bein there for friends a lot recently and all...school just gets pushed to the back. AGAIN. I gotta get my priorities straight. But who am I kidding? Everytime I think about what's *really* a priority with me, school ain't at the top of the list.

I tried to come up a name for my production company. Kev's is Canadiasian Productions". I wanted mine to be poe.m.ages productions, which reads as a mix of poems and images... It sounds kinda cool if you say it right, but it also looks dumb-as-fuck whenever I write it. I xperimented with a couple spellings, and they're all straight muck. Toothpick Productions? Suzy likes One Step Ahead Productions...which is funny, cuz the acronymn is OSAP. Haha.

So yea, my sister called and cancelled the trip to Europe. Her and Ajax are just coming here instead. I thought Chris would be upset, but it turns out she kinda didn't want to go anyway ;). So that's goooo. Man, my sis has such a strong English accent now. I was laffing my ass off. She gonna bring me back some British hhop, and the Kelis album...which I can' t find anywhere here. Except as a European import...which costs like 40 bucks. "milkshake" is my shit. I know nobody agrees with me, though.

I saw Claude and Omar at Chapter's. I really miss Mafa. Them some cool dudes. Who else would be talking about hhop while reading UFC coverage and dr. Phil helpbooks? Only the intelligent, well-adjusted violent thugs of MAFA. I miss that. I been poetiking too long, not enough hitting shit. Too much yin, not enough yang.

Grande Non-Fat Latte is gonna start competing though. She trains with Sifu Joey. If she does, I'm gonna be there to support. If only I could remember her name, though...

Chris seems to be doing a bit better the past few days. I hope she is, and she's not just putting on a good front. Nothing sucks more than a sad beigy.

This child-kidnapping-ransom shit is crazy. I couldn't watch the news today...it had footage of her mom crying and shit. Too much for me to take. Fukk those bastards. I can't believe such vile people exist, and that they live in my neighborhood. It's disguting.

Argh.

Anyways. I'm gonna go. Blog ya later, you bloggin blog blog.

What? Why'd I end like that? I ruined a perfectly good blog with a bad joke. Why don't you just erase it, you idiot? Great...now I'm typing to myself.

I'm outta here.

peace,
-J.

Posted by Scene -- at 2:53:00 a.m. | Permalink

MSN freestylin...

lack of sleep....I'm hallucinating........cool...........1 essay, 1 presentation down....2 essays to go......... says:
suzy cries tears of lies/ paul tries/ harder!/ push farther, farther away/ a father to stay/ lines of gray/ stagnant coke/ rotten blow/ how much drugs would it take/ to make the soul show?

moxtoberfest says:
niccce

lack of sleep....I'm hallucinating........cool...........1 essay, 1 presentation down....2 essays to go......... says:
the soul side/ b-side of a tape from the eighties/ the line of time is shady/ I pray that thee sows seeds from weeds/ from that truth breeds/ I know for a fact truth bleeds/ I cut with the knive of a potruding wrist bone/ prone to flexing/ broken from genuflexing in positions of prayer

rhymesayer/ wordplayer like scrabble/ I dabble in this rapper shit/ I'm faster kid/ fuck rap, I ain't acting like the game is mine/ I'm not an MC/ but fuck if I don't rhyme sometimes/ that's the way it goes, life unfolds in couplets/ enough shit/

drinking too much piss and vinegar/ a ni**er show/ minstrel's whistling through a black christmas/ a nightmare's wishlist/ block of coal/ going once, twice, sold! / the highest bidder throwing figures/ life is math and monetary/ I graph the monastery/ sketch a buddhist temple on paper/

write a poem of a girl and use my gift of words to rape her/ vapor/ word's a woman and I shape her/ god complex/ showing me that God is complex/ i reflect while entertaining suzy/ dying hair/ the world dances around me/ while I'm still lying there/

paul, it's been a ball/ but yo it's time ta bounce!/ smoking this relationship ain't even half an ounce/ I hear those sounds/ sluts, blunts and parties/ any club you go to you get your white ass carded/ naw I'm not cold-hearted/ you're just an ass this relationship farted/ mathmatician to my artist/ now we parted, who's the hardest?/
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyways...Chris is sad again. I'm not sure what to do. Had fun today with her at York. Saw Emelyne and Nat. I'm delirious. Haven't been sleeping. Studying, writing, being there....alla dat shit. Marcus and I listenging to CBC radio's spoltlight on west coast hhop, and Quannum Records specifically. God Kamal up on it too.

I'm gonna take Chris out once all this stress is over with. Jill's back. Mark, rob and I let the milk stand, and John told us to throw it out. Stupid maintenance man ratted on us. But hey, health standards are health standards.

I've lost the ability to think coherently. I'm smoking again, and i like it. Spirulina, it's a good thing.

peace,
-J./Tp

Posted by Scene -- at 2:30:00 a.m. | Permalink

palms...funny word

do palms have anything to do with psalms? There's a poem in there, somewhere.

Anyways, I kilt that presentation for Japanese Culture. I didn't think I was going to, but I kilt it. And my prof seemed to like my presentation the best. So I'm motivated. Now to finish these essays. I suck. but I also rule. *shrugs*

Was supposed to come straight home and start working, but Jimmy, Suzanne and Pedro picked me off the road. Went to Moxie's for a bit, and then ended up sneaking in movies again. It's sooo easy. And i'm so weak. I should have came home.

Anyways. can't blog long. gotta write essays.

Hey Chris, I love you.

peace,
-J.

Posted by Scene -- at 12:15:00 a.m. | Permalink

the saturday evening post

so, had fun yesterday smoking/drinking with Mark and Zorya. Maggy was there for awhile, with her birthday crew, but smoking was just M, Z and I. I think we pissed cindy off, but whatever. she's bein a little too sensitive lately. got my eyeglasses today! Finally! they aight. Hope chris likes em. She'll prolly just lie anyways. chris is in the states, which sucks...wishin i could go see a movie with her right about now. Had crab today. Crab is awesome. it's a cool food, cuz it makes you work for it. you gotta scrape and pick and you end up with barely anything, but the taste man, the taste! suzy seemed to be a bit better the last time we chatted, but hey, who knows. hopefully though. I wonder what Mike's up to tonight? I really need to write these essays. Write them, you idiot. Maybe I'll watch my Alias DVDs. Maggy and Kamal are applying to Montana's, and are asking me to apply with you. Mayyyybe.......I feel like taking pictures. Photography is so expensive. Mark leant me some old kung-fu movies. We traded. Bought a tape player from Cindy. A Walkman! remember those? now I can make mix-tapes. Mix-tapes are the shit.

gotta go poo....

peace,
-J.

Posted by Scene -- at 8:14:00 p.m. | Permalink

The Pledge

Ghosts of their past boyfriends dance and chant in monotone, their fists bloodied, their mouths whitened by the ash of tiny lies, bringing my depression back to life.
I stay awake sometimes to cry with them, laughing all the way to sanity and crying my way back
(I should have left breadcrumbs)
I measure my way in thumbs,
writing loveletters with thumb-spaces and double-spacing, grade two cursive and Grade 12 curses
"thank you very much, fuck you very much,"

I combat the monotone with inflected singing,
blue notes of raw vocal.
More like screams sometimes, scratchy throaty:
this is poetry.

Scott kicks his wife, Joe prefers to punch his highschool sweetheart into bittermeat,
(this violence, I know them! drank with them! laughed with them!)
both are supposed to be tragic heroes, I guess,
written by bad screenwriters out of touch with their
Id, no sense of structure, oblivious to the audience
and the science of semiotics. The audience does not feel for them.

Lucy, a victim not of physical impact, but of verbal lies and suffocating layers of meaning, tells me to stop telling her she is beautiful,
and wonderful, smart and a "great catch",
cuz *he* obviously doesn't think so, I must be
flattering her and so I should shut the fuck up...

This hurts, but thank god I know how to sing the blues.
I know how to slit wrists metaphorically with knives the color of grey.
Is grey a color? I become sensitive to the monotone, it sounds like sharp.
Grey reads a collage of red and black, orange and purple, matchmatch, clashclash,
the world is visual, the past is pre-written,
only the sensual get hurt.
The sensitive are attentive to the subtleties.
The rest are critics, thumbs up!, thumbs down!, keep it coming and moving.

Change the channel, you!
You! The still living, the still breathing, hearing, hurting,
you are alive and they suck the life from you,
blowing out your flames by sucking inwards with pursed lips!
This is not a kiss! Stay away, stay away, my eyes hurt
to watch.

I ask my own lover to hold me as I sleep. This is not masculine, but her maternal instinct
feeds my paternal.

My friends, sisters, mothers,
daughters, lovers...

when punch comes to shove
and you cease to love

I
will
fight
them
for you.


peace,
-Tp

Posted by Scene -- at 9:37:00 a.m. | Permalink

nahmean?

ya know, sometimes some people need to back the fuck off.

Anyways, Thanksgiving. Bittersweet. I am thankful for my mother, and the conversation we had. It was the first real conversation I think I've ever had with her, and it was over red wine to boot. I realize I am my mother's son afterall. A couple of phrases from her that sound as if from my mouth:

"I get so scared at parties sometimes"
"I just don't fit in"
"I've always been a loner, not that that means I have no friends...but I'm perfectly happy spending time by myself"
"I'm happy that way, people don't get it"
"I like to read"
"American politics affect the whole world"
"I don't speak the language, I have no real connection"
"I get really nervous"

etc. etc. So I have my father's temper, and my mother's melancholy.

Sunday with Suzy was fun, even though she was down. We lit up the city, and I mean that literally. Eat that, City Hall! (You'll be alright, man).

God, Kill Bill was amazing (see rap below). God. I can't even blog about it yet.

A vent:
Perry is a racist fucking wife beater, and I want to spit in his coffee with acid. Fuck you.
Paul...what the fuck?
(name withdrawn): I thought I knew you. You need help. Go to jail. Get some meds. Anything, just get away from her.
Hey lady? I don't have the fucking incredients. Don't shop here. Don't fucking badmouth me and then turn and tell me your life story as if I didn't hear you bad mouthing me.
Hey Starbucks...fuck you.
Hey England, fuck you.
Hey stupid poem, fuck you.
Hey writer's block, fuck you.
Eff yr stupid freestyles, you ain't a rapper, you idiot.
Stop telling yrself you're not a rapper. Self-deprecation sucks.
Yo, emo-blogging ain't cool. So stop it.
Suzy, you go on meds and I'll slap you.
Hey Kev, stop hating. You loved the goddamn movie.

Thankful for:
Understanding friends
Kill Bill
Beigy's
Dark Angel commentary tracks
Dried Mangoes
Japanese Cinema
Sleeman's Dark
Okayplayer
PRIDE with Mike
smoking with Blaise
drinking with Suzy
dating with Chris
Hapas and Hybrids
Suzie Young
HipHop
Music
Daredevil
MAFA
Maxi & Co. grocery department
...Starbucks, I guess
Bukowski, Williams, and Ginsberg
Mother and Father
Free coffee
Michael Moore
Bamboo Chutes
Chicken Katsu
blueberry smoothies
Pound Magazine
Bill Murray
Simpsons Syndication
Democracy
Pony walking shoes
Sifu Joey
Sifu Neil
Illmatic
"when the pawn..."
Bic Gel-Point pens (black)
Anime
Noli's laugh
Salem's breath
DVD
MP3s
green backpacks/bookbags
khaki baseball caps
Wally's poutine
Jack's with the 'Bucks

and more. But I'm tired.

peace,
-J.

Posted by Scene -- at 2:24:00 a.m. | Permalink

Kill Bill Volume I.

ohhhh shit! Shaw Brothers inc! On screen split, dialogue non-synch, what up! Traitors get cut-up, who let the pup out the bag? This rag-tag of dagnab assassins, kickin ass-in, love for daughter a passion, you killed it, the bastion, you bastards...now I got a whole list askin, lookin for lives to take, this is life at stake, ain't no bakesale, suburban snakes fail, getcha in yo house, ya dwelling, leave ya forehead swelling, splish-splashin blue-blood red on the floor, this text ya read it before, this some 70s kung-fu junkie, drunken monkey jumping ain't funny...

Once I get my toe wigg-a-ling, ya hear the fat lady singing shit, hear the sirens on the soundtrack, forewarned, foreshadow, she's comin, more battle! Get ya sword out, get gored out, *real shit*, Hatori Hanzo feels this, steel grip, you know that deal "Bitch",
new re-issue, I'm back, comin for O-Ren Ishii, acrobatic, doin back-flips over wack shit, oh yes, jumpin like a pogo off a balcony, hittin Gogo with a knack for ease, getin back with ease, ease up!

Yakuza gets g'd up, ya weeds up, come down from ya high, land on the floor lookin *bleep* in the eye, blonde-bombshell, jumpsuit bonds-well, hug the body, what the fuck you trynna drug somebody? Fuck a coma, sick shit, vindictive limp dick, un-ugh, aint' havin none of that, hit ya knee caps, slice a heel, now you tell me fucker, how's it feel? Feel the blade penetrate, like Gogo's last date, result of rape, list of hate to hit,

Volume I, Kill Bill's that SHIT.

peace
-Tp

Posted by Scene -- at 3:17:00 a.m. | Permalink

aight still

Cool, so whatever. That last piece sucked, for several reasons. Sucked sucked sucked...

brucked

shut up, Billy Crudup, fuck-ups, y'all cats is *almost* famous, half-full half-empty, you fuckas is *almost* nameless, it's shameless nowadays, the push n' pull, russian bull, mush n' rule...the supply and demand, making a band, shaking hands with the fingers crossed, behind ya backs, rewind the tracks so you can re-find the facts, aight?

Impact spits that ill syntax, the Iron Crescent, ever present, yes I *am* jealous, whatever, let my ambitions relish...While I embellish in a key-styled freestyle, this meat-pie of America needs rye, something whole-some, enough nuclear blow-guns, Iraqi syndrome, syntax of shinbones, ya keep running like Gregorio's mouth, I'll keep plumbing the depths of my drought, pullin out words, blurbs, curses and creeds, ya'll need it, feed from it, I bleed from it...

So in fact I deal with actual facts, tax fees freeze, blow ya scalp back like Ernie Eves, smack a cheek like Ron Godin ta Mohsin, fake thugs stop posin and get goin, my rhymes motion, never stagnant fragrant potion, it's like lotion, rub it baby, all gravy ya turkey, Thanks for nothing, Thanks for trying not for Giving, Thanks for everything, except not Forgiving...forgeting...forget it

check it: Ahnold muscles his big arms into office, like an orifice, the artifice of politics, wave a broom bruh, smash on a car door, hasta la vista, reach ya and pleased ta meet-cha, fuck ya speech and ya platform too, pull off a platform shoe and palo you black-and-blue, now, what you gonna do, damn man, get ya ass kicked by a Van Damme, and that's all it is man, polls, popularity hilarity, share with me all the secrets locked with Baron's keys, open up man, the world's run by fascists, gassed-up n gashed-up inside, scars of the past cause internal bleeding, the inferno's breeding, blowing, billowing the pillow of things, the pill in our mouths, swallowed, swilled down and followed, by a chaser of the day, new phrase that pays, philosophy of follow-me, fickle mind and finally, ya wake up...

peace,
-Tp

Posted by Scene -- at 1:41:00 a.m. | Permalink

on-oh-mah-toe-pee-ah

as...SMASH. yeah, I punched a wall the other night, and now there's a big crack in it, and my hand hurts. yech. and I thought I was doing so well...that's really depressing. maybe there's been no progress afterall....

Happy Birthday Felisa, and Joy, Laz, and me. Libras rule. we punch walls and still come off cool. g'yeah! (/sarcasm).

Man, any Mississauga ppls know Queen Elizabeth II Memorial Jubilee Garden? It's this small little area, right inside the grounds of City Hall...I stumbled into it on my way to the library when I was waiting for Chris to finish up at the Living Arts Centre....it's this wicked fuggin garden, it's almost trippy looking, and...it was *totally empty*. It was surreal. The stone walls around it cut out the sound from the street...I felt like I was in a different world. The grass is so neatly trimmed, and cut up into square sections, the trees look like giant bonsai, and the garden is arranged in different squares, so each square has it's own privacy. I sat for an hour and meditated. It was great. Ima do it again. Maybe someone would like to come with and we'll smoke each other out? Being high there would be a good thing.

Something scary? California elected Ahnold as their Governor? How creepy is that? And people, stop bringing up Reagan and Jesse Ventura as evidence that Ahnold "might do a good job". Fuck that, Reagan and Jesse had platforms. You seen them debate? They knew (know, in the case of Ventura) what tha fuck they were talking about. Shit, I still like listening to Ventura talk about politics. But Ahnold? He just points a broom and says "Hasta La Vista, deficit!" Good luck, buddy.

Anyways, gotta go to school. The dreaded Thursday-7-hour-gap.

peace,
-J.

Posted by Scene -- at 8:00:00 a.m. | Permalink

punch. drink. love.

3:08 am, almost finished Snow Country. I love it. The way Kawabata writes, the compositions Mizoguchi creates with his mise-en-scene, the montage of Kurosawa, the way my chicken katsu tastes, the beauty of Zen, the beautifully calm way Sakuraba fights...wow.

Sigh, though...Suzanne just tells me more about her and Paul, and...man, it sucks. I don't really know what to do for her.

Chris wrote a wonderful poem about Lost in Translation. I think the way she connects with that movie is the same way I connected with Punch Drunk Love. It's strange to see your emotional struggles portrayed so perfectly through cinema.

Maybe I'll write a piece on Punch Drunk Love. Nothing has captured both my rage and depression so exactly, and at the same time.

I think I'll get drunk tomorrow. Yes, I do.

peace,
-J.

Posted by Scene -- at 3:07:00 a.m. | Permalink

Get Ready for Impact

www.ironcrescent.com. My boy was in the paper. Toronto Star. Woohoo! It's nice to see people making moves. Mark is talking to Beth again tomorrow about getting a gallery showing for his pieces. And Zorya's brother is in negotiations with Marisa Tomei and Claire Danes for the movie he wrote and will be directing. Not bad? Not bad at all. Gives me some hope. Keeps me thinking positive. Keeps me on my grind. I'ma get there, peoples. You'll see.

Chris took my out for my birthday. Saw Lost is Translation. I really liked it. Bill Murray gives the performance of his career. And I realized why I have a crush on Scarlett Johansson...it's cuz she reminds me of Chris. Even the movie does. I think I've learned a lot about my girlfriend from this movie.

Then she took me out for dinner. $100 fuggin dollars on lobster! Sheit. I'm speechless. But the grub was good, man.

Kamal, you done already made it. Time folds and is non-linear. This is not a beginning. You're there man, it's here, I can see it and touch it.

Is it strange to find your courage in life from an 18 yr old? From an internet community? From a continent you've never been to?

I'ma get there, people. For real.

peace,
-J

Posted by Scene -- at 12:23:00 a.m. | Permalink

22nd Birthday

Suddenly
my nose starts running
and it takes me
a long while to realize
that my face is crying.
The man on the corner
tells me that 22 years
is not that long
after all.

He hands me a rag
I wipe my nose
and let the harsh wind
chap my lips
and dry my tears.

peace,
-Tp

Posted by Scene -- at 11:48:00 a.m. | Permalink

Dead Democrats Society

Man, the NDP got raped up they noses. Or something. Still, voting is a very empowering experience.

Story: I had to jet from school back to Mississauga just to vote, and then back to York to meet up with Suzy. I forgot my registration card though, so had to walk back home and back to the booth, where I realized that the ballots don't have the party names on them. Just the candidate's names. So I bring my ballot up to the cave-woman-rep and say "Can you tell me which one of these is NDP?" And she's like "you just told me who you're voting for, you idiot". Not that it mattered. NDP=RAPED. Damn. I seriously thought htey had a chance to be the opposition, or at least enough weight to bring about a minority gov't. Oh well. Rose actually called me a "loser" for voting, LOL.

Met up with Suzy and chilled around York. She might be going there next year, which would be cool. We were planning to go this spoken-word event at the reverb (some flyer we got at the HYPE hip-hop event at the Art Gallery.....)We met up wit Blaise instead downtown and got drunk, which was cool. I think I just needed to get drunk with dude to get over some shit. We met K-OS at the bar. Blaise broke up wit Melissa, and then he lost his bag. Gah. Then we went to Systems, where Blaise got us in for free and we met with Marcus. More drunkeness.

I had fun. Oh, then to Wally's wit just Marc and Suzy, which is becoming a favourite outing for me. I spent 2 much money, though. When u see friends you haven't seen in awhile, you start treating. Which is all good, cuz I think that's the way it should be. The NDP would prolly agree.

Going out with Christianne on Sat. Mike and I watching PRIDE finally on Mon. Kev's treating me to beer on Tues. Hopefully I'll find time to study in there. Okayplayer...been ignoring that place. I should drop by.

Poetry book in the works, I'm serious you mugs. And I'm making alla you pay cash 4 it. No freebies. Well, maybe a few. I'm a softie.

peace,
-J.

Posted by Scene -- at 8:35:00 p.m. | Permalink

Issue #485, Monthly

I.
She does not see that
I seek health in order to
suture both our wounds.

II.
The privacy seeps
Like a Freudian cocktail
down my dark gullet.

III.
One day, I promise
One day it will take one day
I just need some time

IV.
Out there is someone
Someone I blame for all this
And much more as well

V.
I love you, I say
She shuts eyes in disbelief
I can do no more...

VI.
"Actions speak louder
Than words whispered in the dark,"
My slothen flesh laughs.

VII.
You have the answers,
Dissertations not needed,
I did not write these.

VII.
So the Birthday-Curse
Is much truer than I thought
Oh, the birth of flesh

VIII.
"Can it be that it
was all so simple then...can
it be...Can it be?"

IX.
Sleep by my side, please
I seek the breathing of blue,
the soft rise-and-fall.

X.
I apologize
again and again and yes,
I am sorry.
[cry].

-Tp

Posted by Scene -- at 10:46:00 a.m. | Permalink