tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-104530792011-04-21T16:58:44.637-04:00"I would prefer not to."Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.comBlogger1021100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-92188812636368402072007-08-15T11:31:00.000-04:002007-08-15T11:56:44.039-04:00

Four long years of university have passed incredibly.... quickly. Many cups of coffee, late-night escapades, long tedious cramming sessions. Never mind the countless biochemical pathways and mechanisms of bacterial resistance acquired over these years, what feels most incredible is how much the rest of my mind and heart have learned through the many adventures encountered in the beloved city of

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1143742916219902612006-03-30T13:16:00.000-05:002007-02-19T15:29:27.451-05:00

Part 1It is 12:30 am. And when the minutes pass midnight, I often sit down and write. I let words appear one after the other on their own, unconsciously. On February 24, 2006, sometime in the afternoon, I’ll take you on the random musings of such a night. Right now, all is quite but the quiet tapping of fingertips pressing down on little square buttons. My left hand feels numb, I have 8

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1138641845914772402006-01-30T12:21:00.000-05:002006-01-31T21:37:35.066-05:00

January has been a month of tastes and sounds, of late nights and early mornings. Of excursions, of dancing and of drunken exchanges with strangers. It is Monday morning. The Graduate soundtrack is playing on the record player and for the first time in nearly a month, I sit in front of my computer just writing, alone with thoughts. And somehow it almost scares me as it has been many years since I

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1135843934215011922005-12-29T03:09:00.000-05:002005-12-29T08:05:36.683-05:00

The depth of 2am sees friends express deviant love for each other, pissing away in the wind, kicking hideous architectural designs (*cough* ROM) and reminiscing past infatuations. Talks of absinthe and romanticism have polluted the very last breaths of air this year has to offer. And semi-schizophrenic DMN impersonated Juliet and yonder lights, pirouetting on the shimmering stars of uptown Bloor,

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1135528718610822002005-12-25T11:34:00.000-05:002005-12-25T11:38:38.610-05:00

21 now. Le ciel me tombera sur la tête.Clap your hands and say yeah, I'm listening to Elvis.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1135348953492888152005-12-23T09:41:00.000-05:002005-12-23T11:47:45.143-05:00

No mindfuck.No Great Expectations.All meant genuinely.End of story.***////

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1135345715903888162005-12-23T08:47:00.000-05:002005-12-23T11:46:36.356-05:00

Ma chère Baby sister,It’s the fourth year I’m spending another Christmas and birthday without you. And for that, I am sad.I am always amazed at how different we are or have become. And yet, you still understand me more than anyone in the world, because you peel off the layers of bullshit I wrap myself around. You see me, as lame as crazy as silly as I really am. To you, I will always be the girl

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1135319224886579352005-12-23T01:26:00.000-05:002005-12-23T20:52:54.866-05:00

I think I’ve changed but I’m just a gerbil in a cage running as fast as I can…someday, I’ll get…nowhere. I have been trying to take the world by the inches it can give, finally willing to approach a new relationship with as much truth as I can give… and yet, I still feel something odd, a hairy monster of a lie…still as if I’m squeezing emotions out of an empty toothpaste tube. Some days, I still

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1134976766203116122005-12-19T02:19:00.000-05:002005-12-19T02:19:26.220-05:00

They might say you're a dreamer, but you're not the only one.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1134149476958498132005-12-09T12:25:00.000-05:002005-12-09T12:31:16.980-05:00

"The Obsessive-Compulsive-Disorder brain shows abnormalities in the basal ganglia, where part of the sensory information is coordinated. OCD patients become chronic doubters and cannot trust their own senses....Probably the most impressive demonstration that OCD is a physical affliction was unwittingly carried out by a 22 year old man who compulsively washed his hands hundreds of times a day.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1133880172768631832005-12-06T09:36:00.000-05:002005-12-06T19:35:38.740-05:00

It’s funny how stressful attempting to study really is. There are definitely more coffee stains on absolutely illegible notes. There are two or three, maybe even four, more pimples on the forehead. I have decimated an entire box of cereals: just me, myself and the beginnings of an ulcer. And I’ve been pacing around the apartment like a mad Beethoven on his 5th Symphony. Except this is still

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1133458753098273942005-12-01T12:59:00.000-05:002005-12-01T13:36:45.436-05:00

Today, I need to escape subtlety.Subtlety is a nice way to hide one’s foolishness until it comes back and gives you a taste of its own medicine.Down with letters to no one. Posts addressed to a postee that can or can not be addressing me. These spiraling lies make me nauseous because we are people running in fear, making stupid barriers, reinventing dull reality, trying to break away from daily

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1133275221390420622005-11-29T09:36:00.000-05:002005-11-29T13:07:55.410-05:00

Cellophane. After three cigarettes and one cup of white coco, I am thinking about cellophane. Who knew nicotine could be so trippy. There are countless hours of studying ahead of me and I still don’t know where to start. I have substituted food for the silent afterhours of useless staring into knots of scribbled black ink on Hilroy lined paper. I would like this mould of cellophane to understand,

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1132854452936958242005-11-24T12:43:00.000-05:002005-11-24T13:13:52.176-05:00

Dearest Jenny Down with girls. It seems like they walk through life tinged with Pink Floyd and rock and roll and I seem to be stuck with the Beach Boys and other absurdities. I have given up on them many times before and I shall keep doing so. Dramatic statements with no actions to back them up are kind of my thing. I seek out advice from others but all they give me are suggestions of tugboats

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1132528862925732982005-11-20T18:19:00.000-05:002005-11-20T18:21:02.980-05:00

"After a while, you just want to touch pores with someone."

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1132069339819809552005-11-15T10:34:00.000-05:002005-11-15T10:50:05.110-05:00

Somehow, in between differences, you always catch surprising similarities.It is always weird building a relationship with a complete stranger. Up until now, your lives run completely parallel to each other, a game versus time: the there, existence, yet here, non existent. Then collisions happen and you are thrown into another life and the lives of others; and suddenly you feel like a shy

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1131477767117781222005-11-08T14:13:00.000-05:002005-11-08T14:31:54.596-05:00

I hate the possibility that you are out there somewhere, between torn pages and broken records. Beyond the emptiness and the emptiness belongs.I hate that maybe it is the reason I can't entirely enjoy the pleasure of real flesh, the tender caresses of real bodies, the minutes and hours of real time.I hate the possibility of never ending possibilities.**********This land like a mirror turns you

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1130821401979924992005-10-31T23:50:00.000-05:002005-11-01T09:56:16.850-05:00

It has been a great leap forward. And we're not talking about steel.Was it singing Hey Jude in front of a roomful of strangers, dosed stupidly on Tylenol and alcohol? Feeling oozy, feeling cozy. It's the feeling feelies, the here and the now.There were conspiracies and enactements of big pumpkin raids.Bodies undulated, voices ululated, and silence jugulated.All it takes is a few excesses and a

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1130206560857010402005-10-24T22:12:00.000-04:002005-10-24T22:16:00.866-04:00

The art of spending time well before midterms....Tonight, from viruses to bacteria...

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1129430862661333442005-10-15T22:47:00.000-04:002005-10-24T08:01:40.966-04:00

Picture taken with Xue's new Minolta Dimage Z6....Whoahey...If only my camera could resurrect. :(Zoom from room

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1129399817320478262005-10-15T14:05:00.000-04:002005-10-24T08:02:47.653-04:00

Objective consideration of contemporary phenomena compels the conclusion that success or failure in competitive activities exhibits no tendency to be commensurate with innate capacity, but that a considerable element of the unpredictable must invariably be taken into account. --George Orwell, “Politics and the English Language”Translation:I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1129270119554094942005-10-14T02:00:00.000-04:002005-10-14T09:20:53.193-04:00

There I went again. Blaming the whole world for my own cowardice.But lo and behold, even black holes make stars.... some light years away.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1129165957367781212005-10-12T21:07:00.000-04:002005-10-12T21:15:29.950-04:00

With head in the clouds and feet on the ground, I apparently haven't got an ounce of heart.So what I'm cold and emotionless.Life's always been more about sensations than emotions anyways. At least in my ways.Fuck your world and your conventions.And most of all, fuck you, guilt.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1128961571924946992005-10-10T12:25:00.000-04:002005-10-10T12:29:05.700-04:00

We think of the key, each in his prisonThinking of the key, confirms a prisonOn donne un peu de l'univers quand on donne un peu de soi.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1128390224015613522005-10-03T21:26:00.000-04:002005-10-05T00:56:30.700-04:00

The afternoon has been spent catching glimpses of sunlit vesper through thin wisps of black hair, and the aroma of freshly cut grass inundating content nostrils. There will never be much to rival the explosion of life inside one’s imagination. We are dreamers. We should cry. Of joy.And of eternal discontent.DMN has lost faith in politricks. At least for now. That's when you know things are

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1128142362377237522005-10-01T00:52:00.000-04:002005-10-01T10:26:45.493-04:00

The work of Grzergorz Kmin.A concert is playing outside, a block away from my room, and the voices of a hundred drunks resonate against my sealed windows.It is one of those nights when all thoughts and feelings are in absolute shamble, synapses explode and signal transductions collide. And you feel like a ticking time bomb because nothing seems to be able to make the budding insanity within

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1127797845721708662005-09-27T01:08:00.000-04:002005-09-28T09:37:27.266-04:00

Plus jamais Franny.Toujours un peu Zooey.Et comme d'habitude, non-sensical...

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1127633918330783822005-09-25T03:38:00.000-04:002005-09-28T09:25:54.960-04:00

Such an accident prone little person that I am... Icing my swollen right eye that suffered a collision with an unidentified elbow... such anger....As always, awake and broken after a night at Fouf's. Still the shit disturber, pushing guys twice my size...then ending up being bruised everywhere. But, please hurt me, I love it.My song was no where to be heard.Maybe next time I won't run away from

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1127539761808291502005-09-24T01:27:00.000-04:002005-09-24T16:02:27.106-04:00

I turned vermillion red. I could see the last inch of dust smearing the asphalt beneath.So we're back to grade school again. Fall came with several ounces of confidence. Somehow, moments became filled with sunshine glitter and the monochromatic cinema of life made a great leap forward to bright shiny colors. I am living a carnival.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1127409642298431212005-09-22T13:19:00.000-04:002005-09-22T13:20:42.316-04:00

Sometimes it just takes a tiny bit of THC to make 6 hour labs more enjoyable.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1127192304170526932005-09-20T00:58:00.000-04:002005-09-20T15:45:18.243-04:00

Playing around with Photoshop.Been designing and "postering" in preparation for the International Global Health Awareness week with MGAC. Hopefully good weather will be in store...Argh (cry of frustration). McGill administration = anal pain.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1126929594302258462005-09-16T23:59:00.000-04:002005-09-18T08:50:35.736-04:00

2 minutes of quarter life crisis. It is pissing rain outside and my room feels cozy despite its half barren walls. I have felt recently that I am losing the ability to dream. Perhaps I am losing myself. I feel terribly old. ***Je tousse comme une tuberculose.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1126843613387206482005-09-15T23:57:00.000-04:002005-09-16T09:29:18.880-04:00

...to read about peptidoglycan assembly while "Girls just want to have fun" is blasting on the radio...Thursdays are splendid. Lazy hazy days that end with a wonderful class. If my Comparative Stylistics course were a passibly good-looking male, I'd date him and fall madly in love.Running the mile to satisfy my avocado craving, puffing on disgusting menthols, I discovered a fire engine red

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1126805875835690852005-09-15T13:08:00.000-04:002005-09-15T13:37:55.850-04:00

"At the PostdamDeclaration on July 26, 1945, Japan was ordered to surrender unconditionally. In response, the Japanese Cabinet stated that Japan was giving the peace offer mokusatsu, which can mean "we are considering it", or "we are ignoring it." The Japanese Domei news agency rendered the word to mean "ignore", whn the intended meaning was the former. Possibly as a result of a misinterpretation

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1126395565363712582005-09-10T19:37:00.000-04:002005-09-11T10:07:48.913-04:00

Heave motherEternity is bitter poundWeak you areAs moon to skyDeath is staring…Time to wake up with muscles aching from the overdose of lactate produced from a night of moshing and partying, and to find broken fridge-word-magnets poetry assembled intoxicatingly in all randomness on the refrigerator door…Naked love boils meat like a frantically manipulating sausage.It's been a hectic week. Moving,

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1125768975556437782005-09-03T13:36:00.000-04:002005-09-03T13:39:13.406-04:00

New room. Petit coucou.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1125112862397121312005-08-30T12:12:00.000-04:002005-08-30T06:43:18.233-04:00

Sweet Montreal tomorrow. And oh those endless streets will be conquered.There will be museum and gallery exploring that will end in more last minute articles for Le Délit.U2 promises to be the most over-achieving year of all. Resolution, yet again, to get over my pathetic low self-esteem issues.And the memorable moments of Toronto August 2005 are...Some 90 billion light years away from us there

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1124813656237076572005-08-23T12:07:00.000-04:002005-08-23T18:15:20.210-04:00

I love waking up at noon. I think I now have eye bags big enough to store mount everest. Sushi at Yorkville is still the best.I was reminded of the following correspondance yesterday. I smiled.I laughed when someone mistook my writing for that of an intimidating 6 feet tall east-european girl. I like irony. Most of the time.It's good to have conversations in the same parks that evoke

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1124245086393323162005-08-16T22:14:00.000-04:002005-08-17T13:47:45.453-04:00

In four days, the world will be intoxicated by my drunken renditions of Bohemian Rhapsody.I apologize in advance to all torontonian 2 am. street walkers (and people trying to sleep), but even they must feel some kind of happiness for me. (Besides, Naz is much louder. Go blame her.:D)In the meanwhile, I have been struck by a writer's block. Don't they just land at the very worst possible times?Now

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1124167218865818792005-08-16T00:39:00.000-04:002005-08-16T08:21:49.753-04:00

Les larmes se taisentJe n’en peux plus.J’ai mal au cœur,mais je me taisparce que je ne connais que cela; silence et oubli.Converge- Jane Doe

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1123861829567949652005-08-12T11:50:00.000-04:002005-08-12T13:03:56.393-04:00

Rambo-Bad boys by Yoshitaka Amano That year, I woke up with a rubber soul. I wrapped my feelings in aluminum foil and placed them neatly into pink Rubbermaid boxes. I froze them like a 38-year-old single female freezes her eggs, hoping that one day, they will be put to use. I never understood why everything just became a giant blob of scar tissue. Technically speaking, there are always reasons

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1123815972325005742005-08-11T23:04:00.000-04:002005-08-12T05:29:01.253-04:00

Wisdom from the Star:Capricorn: Significant progress will come once you simplify this illusion of complexity.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1123495505826728342005-08-08T05:02:00.000-04:002005-08-11T23:03:55.213-04:00

Passage in progress postponed. More research needs to be done or I'd be raping the memory of Nanking. I'd never forgive myself. Looking up some facts for my passage made me wonder: at what point do we start accepting something as truth? Do we need to go beyond the wikipedia search, news headlines, and words of someone we trust? Has it become like the proverbial three times makes a truth?

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1123476351585461022005-08-08T00:43:00.000-04:002005-08-08T00:47:53.466-04:00

News of a friend’s hasty marriage and another’s mind blowing orgy has made me contemplate del fact that the most liberating thing about my recent self is 7 seasons of Sex and the City. About Big. Long and (almost) uncut. This all topped by the nagging thoughts of X-fission, friction and how the fuck I’m going to fit 3 months worth of studying into 10 days. God, I need to make myself cool

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1123212283301502532005-08-04T23:23:00.000-04:002005-08-04T23:55:53.693-04:00

Time has zoomed by like some clichéd scenes of a low-budget yet pretentious artsy film. Sitting solitary on an airport bench with a few red suitcases serving as protective shield, I drowned into oblivion in half-awake bliss. August 2. Plane in flames, mind on fire. No casualties. Just eight hours of waiting. In my sleep marathon since my arrival, I sought to resume in one fateful sentence the

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1122654250467692962005-07-29T12:24:00.000-04:002005-07-30T03:47:04.983-04:00

Several days have passed. English and French suddenly reads weird now. I was convinced "Culture" was spelled wrong for half an hour.I am now traveller extraordinaire. I walk confidently camera in hand, I bargain like a middle-aged local with too much time on her hands, and I most likely, after each exhausting day, drool in my sleep.I return soon. With thoughts and stories to match the sights and

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1119314745472187832005-06-20T20:37:00.000-04:002005-08-12T06:36:43.713-04:00

Note: pictures taken have been removed because I got tired of waiting half an hour for the blog to publish. I'll be getting a flickr account once I have more time on my hands ie. more procrastination.I arrived! To a gazillion skyscrapers, many KFC's and McDonald's, a black Audi 6A, a two story house and Beyoncé blasting on the radio. I arrived seeing girls wearing multicolored tank tops and flip

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1119022051812245032005-06-17T11:27:00.000-04:002005-06-17T12:35:37.576-04:00

I was seven the last time I went back to China for a short two month visit. When I returned to school, I had a group of little Belgian admirers crowded around me: as they braided my hair, massaged my hand and traded their (much tastier) lunches with me, I told them about gold incrusted pagodas, pink lotus flowers floating fairly on hand-crafted ponds and cities lit entirely by China-red lanterns.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1118809871714383062005-06-15T00:30:00.000-04:002005-06-15T00:31:11.716-04:00

Final Final tomorrow.Signing lease.Tearful goodbyes.Toronto.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1118745117896066812005-06-14T06:30:00.000-04:002005-06-17T12:17:40.890-04:00

Who would have thought that the God-unfearing, hell raiser, shit disturber that I am grew up in a priest house. No, seriously. For almost a decade, I lived on 4 rue Graffée 5000 Namur, with willow trees weeping in the backyard, a red and blue boulangerie on the East end of the street and a green-signed lycée on the West. Two steps from this house of memories lived Paul-Henri, my very first crush

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1118612287109533252005-06-12T17:33:00.000-04:002005-06-13T22:17:36.660-04:00

..So much depends upon a life of probability. Whatever happened to the free will of the panglossian fourteen-year-old girl wearing a pretentious black beret who followed some bourgeois trend like some sad puppy dog with mournful eyes (yes, what an embarassing past)? Whatever happened to religiously believing in my will to power and not feeling like a cookie cutter mould? Please convince me that I

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1118366338825360442005-06-09T21:18:00.000-04:002005-06-10T11:28:02.926-04:00

London June 2004Jarle AuslandSource: photo.netExactly two years ago someone wrote: Endlessly lying, endlessly writing.I used to think lies were beautiful.Now they aggravate me.I must have changed. How silly.Currently exams, writing a play, work, in withdrawal and denial, exhausted but so is everyone, so i'll keep on being totally trendy. 7 days Montreal. 3 days Toronto. Then back to the

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1118380196433416552005-06-09T01:08:00.000-04:002005-06-10T01:24:51.636-04:00

Doodle1Doodle2

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1118166972863731062005-06-07T13:51:00.000-04:002005-06-07T14:40:22.203-04:00

"Chong leaves on a lonely journey. Chong doesn't ride a bicycle or take a boat. He turns his back on the others and walks a kindness of his own at the speed of clotting blood."Read: My Beatles by Satoh Makoto. Short play.Think the usual thought on how gods- the sacred or the pop-culture projections of our desires- can't help to bring about change in scenes of social injustice.Think fading orange

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1117629506344679042005-06-01T08:38:00.000-04:002005-06-01T10:12:07.646-04:00

Source: Blog de lib�ration

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1117416064889276332005-05-29T21:21:00.000-04:002005-05-31T09:00:21.016-04:00

Embracing randomness in Montreal (Rachel->Duluth->Prince-Arthur on St-Denis 3am)Three purple tulips were stolen from a public park this Saturday. Blame Tequila.Endless night walking, climbing trees and statues, being caught silly on camera, 2:00am chow-mien and 1$ pizza, stumbling upon bizarre art installations made me hug the city of Montreal with unparalleled love.Today, free museum day has

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1117082612224550362005-05-26T00:36:00.000-04:002005-05-30T10:59:55.970-04:00

I have been thinking about my violin lately. How it’s sitting there, gathering dust, alone and mute. And how memories with violins are the most painful ones.I read The Seagull by Anton Chekov today. I liked it.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1116978051455642802005-05-24T19:40:00.000-04:002005-05-25T10:25:19.846-04:00

The image reminds me of Magritte.Godot.Ikea.Mary Poppins.Productivity.Chinese porcelain doll.Consumerism.Red.Pierrot.Goth boys.Internet.Fluffly clouds.Puppy love.Deception.Innocence.Psychiatric wards.Curves.Lines.Shallow water.Overpriced feelings.Running for your life.Blue eyes. It's raining men.Nuclear bomb.JFK.Fading.Vladimir.Waiting for the bus.Golfing.Being hungry.Cherries.Boogie

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1116873155879468452005-05-23T14:27:00.000-04:002005-05-23T20:33:12.416-04:00

Dedicated to Little Stubbs,Every spontaneous moment ended up confined in a half-desolate room. We, in momentous jubilation, fingers intertwined and minds in chemical resonance, observed the all-too-familiar green colored walls in their four-cornered sweet embrace, trying desperately to redeem their fading beauty despite the shit yellow rims drawing out of the ceiling due to years of abuse from

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1116744060160036612005-05-22T02:29:00.000-04:002005-05-22T11:24:21.860-04:00

"J'ai aimé à la folie, tout en restant totalement libre."Simone de BeauvoirMême aujourd'hui, je n'y crois pas. Ai-je tort?"I loved to the point of madness, while remaining entirely free." Simone de BeauvoirEven today, I don't believe it. Am I wrong?

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1116564161575648032005-05-20T00:42:00.000-04:002005-05-21T19:32:42.013-04:00

Untitled-Osvaldo Ramirez Castillo (Wood Print) I dreamt that I faded into this print of Ozzie’s. I could feel the moon’s disapproving glance, while my eyes were fixed on the broken egg and its emptiness. I've been feeling rather dizzy and lost in the uncertainty and transience that characterizes my life. But it's all I've known, and it's become me, my nauseating cycle of being...and of so many

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1116387774653514252005-05-17T23:35:00.000-04:002005-05-17T23:52:52.726-04:00

Becauseyousaythatitbeatslike a red funeral drumFarewell

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1116303823350588802005-05-16T02:32:00.000-04:002005-05-17T14:04:12.833-04:00

*tel vent soufle sur la solitude du monde pour que je me rappelle les êtres chers 蜡炬成灰泪始干? C'est un mensonge.SHE:.......... You are alone.Can you not approach my sphere?'HE: 'I'm changing into stone.'"Debajo de las multiplicacioneshay una gota de sangre de pato.Debajo de las divisioneshay una gota de sangre de marinera.Debajo de las sumas, un rio de sangre tierna;"可是, 我们忘了*Where crowds stagger

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1116218617830754702005-05-16T00:43:00.000-04:002005-05-18T10:57:53.076-04:00

Um.. thought I should embellish the blog. Vespertine-Bjork.I just downloaded the Pagan Poetry video earlier. It's freaken amazing. Poor prude north america deprived of such a beautiful video. Shame, shame, shame! This is something to make feathery love to.Parental Advisory : you see boobs and random other things.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1116068971953379122005-05-14T07:01:00.000-04:002005-05-14T07:37:33.353-04:00

It's 6 am. On the empty bus home. I haven't slept the night and I am so awake. More than I've been in months. And then, I'm thinking about the big hair ball stuck in my trachea and how, soon, I'll nosebleed to death. Five margaritas and five hours of moshing later, the world is fading out. I tried to get the rage out last night. I really did. But the machine wins.So I'm here, at 6 am, on the

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1116004800115457992005-05-13T13:19:00.000-04:002005-05-14T07:01:42.180-04:00

I love faces.The big ones. The bad ones. The ugly ones. All of them.On another note, Lav was telling me about some of the clinical cases they are studying in her Human Cognition class. How, some people lose the ability to process a certain area of thought or conduct some basic tasks after a lesion at a specific region of the brain. For instance, some people, who after suffering from a stroke, are

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1115960379824130422005-05-13T00:58:00.000-04:002005-05-13T11:05:37.023-04:00

Argh, I just wrote a monumental post and blog lost it. WTF>>>I'm annoyed as hell now.SO I'll just summarize the post in one word: Fragments.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1115787960103071742005-05-11T00:49:00.000-04:002005-05-11T01:06:00.143-04:00

After talking to Makito tonight and reminiscing about Claude has made me so eager to relocate and travel for an extended period of time. These are guys that have been around the globe for the past seven or eight years, constantly on the move, entirely self-sufficient by doing sporadic work. Going different places, meeting different people, learning different things. Amazing. Their stories are

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1115702958885340352005-05-10T01:29:00.000-04:002005-05-10T07:58:20.360-04:00

The last time I drew something for Mother's day was when I was 12. I haven't seriously sat down and drawn ever since. It's sad because I haven't improved at all even though so many years have passed, but...meh... mothers are able to appreciate anything you give them...that's a big fat lie but oh well.I'm tired. It's been a magnificent day. I swallowed the sun, drank too much coffee, people

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1115694428784908192005-05-09T23:07:00.000-04:002005-05-09T23:07:08.820-04:00

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1115440089143144812005-05-07T00:28:00.000-04:002005-05-08T16:16:47.020-04:00

Max Ernst. J'adore cette photo :)On dirait que ça fait des années que je n'ai plus écrit en français. :S... bon, ce sera pour le prochain blog... la paresse est un travail à temps plein.I'm sick, fatigued and unemployed. I have been spending my ailing days drawing, reading and sleeping. Aside from the fact that my ass has become rectangular by moulding itself to this brown rubber chair and that

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1115238025900038622005-05-04T16:19:00.000-04:002005-05-06T23:31:56.783-04:00

My ideal is to be idle and love a fat boy. But I'm a nomad, so wander I must.Source: Art Press

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1115144223518895672005-05-03T14:15:00.001-04:002005-05-03T15:48:49.836-04:00

If I close my eyes, I will see the red poppies blowing in the wind. I will feel the air brushing against my back as I stand on the endless haystacks of Grand-lez. I will remember Antoine and Arnaud. Those two boys that filled my early childhood and inundated it with the glow of their blond hair, their blue eyes and the way they held my hand while we told each other horror stories underneath

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1115144112870830482005-05-03T14:15:00.000-04:002005-06-15T12:22:42.666-04:00

I'm not here... this isn't happeningWebcams are bad for you. Capturing movement=fascinating.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1115006904627358752005-05-02T00:01:00.000-04:002005-05-02T09:23:01.626-04:00

Check out:Aadvark Junto

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1114920455653163262005-05-01T00:07:00.000-04:002005-05-01T00:28:49.223-04:00

just my eye

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1114462229165943192005-04-25T16:28:00.000-04:002005-04-26T00:19:28.290-04:00

I just realized i used wasping as to mean wafting in my previous post. OOoOOps... It should be a new word: Wasping. Let's form a sentence: White anglosaxon protestants in bumble bee costumes are wafting over Gatsby's green lawn with disdain...I think "wasping" may come close to rival with Mencken's "Homo Boobiens"... I kid only. "Homo boobiens"? Try ever coming up with a better word than that!

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1114362341273114142005-04-24T13:05:00.000-04:002005-05-01T11:24:14.080-04:00

Heavy hearted by AquasixioI like to flatter myself by thinking that I've unconsciously served as a muse! O_o*hehe* ...

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1114353736364401582005-04-24T10:13:00.000-04:002005-04-27T11:04:16.220-04:00

I woke up today to the sweet scent of freshly baked bread and the familiar aroma of newly brewed coffee. And I wondered how many people experienced the exact same thing right at that moment with me, how many have before me and how many will after me. In a whirlwind, I felt a certain one dimensionality with time: my flesh convoluting into a black hole, sucking every inch of life around me...I

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1114297761348964202005-04-23T19:09:00.000-04:002005-04-23T23:17:26.746-04:00

Same old, changed colour saturation... I think it looks better with vibrant red..Listening to Air...and feeling ...amazingly good...as if I'm floating in my mind...Comme si tout d'un coup tout devenait rouge........(I am not intoxicated.)

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1114186143116192692005-04-22T12:05:00.000-04:002005-04-22T21:18:45.896-04:00

Painting my mood with a song since I'm too writhely to write. *On a tangent, Vladimir Nabokov was born on this date."Your Lucky Day In Hell" by Eels..Mama gripped onto the milkman's handAnd then she finally gave birthYears go by still i don't knowWho shall inherit this earthAnd no one will know my name until it's on a stone This could be your lucky day in hellNever know who it might be at your

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1113958930526069322005-04-19T20:57:00.000-04:002005-04-22T22:23:42.073-04:00

"Le monde tombe en ruine. Chacun ramasse des morceaux pour construire son monde à lui ... Reprendre des ruines, cela a joué un grand rôle dans mon existence. J'ai commencé à écrire dans l'Europe en ruines, mais sans aucune tristesse et avec l'envie de tout refaire. Contrairement aux post-modernes, vous ne trouverez aucune déploration chez moi car je suis très sensible à l'énergie que les ruines

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1113785512118258482005-04-17T20:50:00.000-04:002005-04-18T17:58:52.960-04:00

Argh, les examens. Je n'ai que ça dans ma tête et pourtant, je n'arrive pas à me concentrer. Tout me passe à travers. J'ai envie de hurler.Merde....Maybe if I cut and paste things, I'll remember them...- The GPCR G-Protein is a heterotrimeric 7-transmembrane protein. After a ligand binds to the receptor the following sequence of events occurs:o Conformational changeo The alpha subunit (which was

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1113710429257962402005-04-16T23:46:00.000-04:002005-04-23T12:17:39.326-04:00

For some odd reason, I can't get this article out of my head. I heart Colon .I read it a month ago... but it still haunts me. Strange.Anyhow, I saw this image today, and it instantly threw me back to my old school's great grey yard in Belgium. Another very intense flashback. I saw myself again, in a turquoise cardigan and some funky red pants, with Mélanie and Pauline, leaning on top of a

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1113576050823857442005-04-15T10:30:00.001-04:002005-04-15T14:24:38.020-04:00

More time wasting before exams....My soulmates according to this corny little test via BiographyFor a woman: Frida Khalo (take note i'd much rather be her than be with her)Frida Kahlo responds..."¡Hola! So, you think you have the frijoles to be an el Frido? It takes energy, my friend, and passion. But go ahead, take your best shot."What your date might be like...Expect lots of drinking, smoking,

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1113504265023387342005-04-14T14:41:00.000-04:002005-04-14T14:49:02.326-04:00

Canada gives itself a pat on the back:Yes!!! I am very happy to say the least. ^_^

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1113448305864665782005-04-13T23:11:00.000-04:002005-04-14T00:14:44.046-04:00

Love Story by Julien Pacaud,a French artist who does the "carton et vin rouge" style to perfection...Homepage link in Art Stuff.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1113316063672199432005-04-12T10:27:00.000-04:002005-04-14T00:22:42.706-04:00

Let's not overthink this, chickenheads. enjoy while it's fresh.I think that I'll come out as alive as those chickens after my "6 finals in 8 days" ordeal. (P.S. I want a black and red coffin)

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1113315645167285322005-04-12T10:20:00.000-04:002005-05-25T12:34:06.986-04:00

10 :16J’entends les feuilles danser sur le trottoir désertéLe soleil est encore timide, mais tout de même impatientA quoi est-ce que je pense?Je n’ai aucune idée, des filaments du passéEt des petits moments instantanés.Disons que je me sens comme une petite feuilleQui danse sur le trottoir déserté10 :20J’entends le ronronnement du moteurJ’essaye de le synchroniser avec le battement de mon cœurJ’

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1113166753966867192005-04-10T16:58:00.000-04:002005-04-10T19:17:56.353-04:00

Within the past 40 hours, I have ingested 40 pounds of food into my body, fell in love with 3 blogs, read l’Etranger for the 5th time, argued about the importance of literature, listened to 39 hours of music, became Simone de Beauvoir, then reconsidered because I suddenly felt repulsed by Sartre’s mole on his left cheek which became as big as Enrique Iglesias’, agreed that the new NINstuff

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1113098126137328902005-04-09T21:55:00.000-04:002005-04-14T00:04:29.790-04:00

I pay 563$/term to spend 3 hours per week doodling.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1113097679378014602005-04-09T21:47:00.000-04:002005-04-14T00:05:19.526-04:00

Do you see Sherlock, or the big fish? If not, I have failed miserably :(

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1113063487259377342005-04-09T10:55:00.000-04:002005-04-09T13:41:20.750-04:00

I was reading the following passage from Ptit Gars de Shawinigan (very interesting blog by the way) ptitgars.blogspot.comwhich made me consider the following situation:There are two people, both unaffiliated with you, hanging off a cliff (yes, power trip! j/k) and you have the capability of saving only one of them. On the left, you are told he/she is a doctor and on the right a corporate lawyer.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1112671413075177162005-04-04T23:23:00.000-04:002005-04-09T10:54:53.813-04:00

I wonder how quickly this cheap acetaminophen will work. All I can hear is evil Dr. Shwartz stating in that as-a-matter-of fact manner how the cheap stuff is just as good as Tylenol because essentially they’re the same thing. Right. Such a hideous voice, I wish it would stop. I did buy the cheap stuff this time in order to feel less of a marketing whore since I’d rather be a human guinea pig. Man

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1112549428659304622005-04-03T13:24:00.000-04:002005-04-03T19:43:41.186-04:00

I had a weird surge of emotion today while watching honorary clips of Pope John Paul II on Euronews. There was something incredibly caustic about the feeling I got, like a tiny droplet of HCl from a Pasteur pipette trickling down the corner of my heart. And I don’t understand why. Why would I feel this about an old man I know very little of, who sowed the words of a God I don’t believe in. To me,

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1112541019974058622005-04-03T11:10:00.000-04:002005-04-03T11:12:22.946-04:00

Show them the impossible by Vertebra on www.deviantart.com. One of the most amazing artist on the site. Such raw, biting and fascinating talent.... with a kick ass sense of humour.Check out her amazing gallery at vertebra.deviantart.com

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1112299629511297952005-03-31T15:06:00.000-05:002005-03-31T15:07:09.513-05:00

I am just insanely annoyed at everything around me these days. Can't find any peace of mind. Weird feeling of cement solidifying in my brain. I feel my steps being interrupted unconsciously. Mumbling constantly to myself in moments of discontent. It is so hard to trip and pick myself back up. I abbhor myself for not being able to either. What the fuck, pick up, stand up, walk again. Can't be that

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1111987914090812432005-03-28T00:31:00.000-05:002005-03-31T15:09:35.426-05:00

Parce que ma bouche s’ancre dans un mensonge qui ne se défait pasParce que mes mains sont écarlates d’un sang qui ne m’appartient pasTu arraches la chair de ces os pourrisEt Tu épanches ces veines mal nourriesTu m’offres ma tête hideuse sur un plat doréEt tu m’enfuies les pieds dans de la merde écorcéeJe n’en veux plus de ton vin amer,De ton pain moisiQui crachent sur mes poumonsEt qui écrasent

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1111460459668575062005-03-21T21:59:00.000-05:002005-03-21T22:03:04.283-05:00

It's spring again!!!! I feel like I should write some elaborate metaphor but I'll save the pedantic thoughts today and most importantly spare blospot from another entry on the importance of renewal and such.*grins*

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10453079.post-1111342888520945472005-03-20T13:21:00.000-05:002005-04-09T12:34:57.926-04:00

Hesitation ( Caution: Keep Opium away from children under 45)Secondary caution: 45 is just an arbitrary age.

Yhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16620934875262906655noreply@blogger.com0