Date: Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Last night I had a date with Julia. After the week’s events I didn’t think it would be possible. We had barely been messaging one another and when I saw her last Tuesday, we seemed pretty cold to one another. On Saturday, I was supposed to go to a bar with her and her friends. But after hiking the Baden Powell that morning – a five hour hike – I was feeling pretty tired. That night, Claire, a mutual friend, tried to hype me up since I wasn’t feeling up to it. She was saying that Julia was feeling pretty wasted and my lips would reap the rewards. I didn’t like that she said that. It made me feel like a one dimensional guy who was only after the poon-tang. I am all about the sweet puss but that she called me out on it made me feel shallow. It also made me feel like a piece of steak that was ripe to be eaten, like I should be desperate for that shit. I’m not. Evan and I got to the bar and there was a line up. It was a cold night. Who the fuck creates a line up for a bar? The bar wasn’t even full. There was even  a “guestlist”. What kind of poser-wannabe bar does that shit? Not only that, there was a cover charge of $10 to boot. My misgivings about going were echoed in Evan’s wingeing. We were already in line so I may as well have went with it. Evan thought otherwise. In the end, I gave in to his complaints and my own apprehension. Upon leaving, I felt like a terrible bitch-ass. Julia seemed pissed through her texts so I dropped it. Claire kept trying to persuade me to return but I wanted no part. Evan felt like he was the reason why we left. It was beginning to feel like drama central.

Luckily, yesterday I asked Julia out for coffee on a whim. When I called her, she didn’t seem sour about Saturday night. Bonus. So yesterday, Monday, and before seeing Julia, I spent the afternoon kicking it with Evan. We browsed in the Vancouver Public Library; all the while talking shit. We also decided on a gangster-as-fuck handshake. It was a mixture of Troy and Abed’s mixed in with Fresh Prince and Jazzy Jeff’s. I spent a couple hours dicking around with Evan since I was to meet Julia at 5PM. My nerves were understandably in disarray. The coffee and conversation with Evan helped ease them. Evan and I said our goodbyes with the new handshake and Julia immediately showed up. Shame she missed our bad-ass handshake.

We started our date at Starbucks and it was really easy talking to her. Admittedly, the entire conversation long, I wanted to jump her. She was looking exceptionally stunning. I restrained myself though. We waxed on about our pasts and future ambitions. We shot the shit on how ridiculous society was. She was looking incredibly cute. She commented on how I looked like a hipster. After talking for a solid two hours, we decided to grab a bite. We’re both pretty poor so we decided on the Famous Warehouse, where everything served is $4.95 and under. She told me about an isolated location – not the ridiculously jammed packed one on Granville St. – and we headed in that direction on foot. While we continued talking, I thought about holding her hand. Ultimately I pussied out; maybe for the best. We got lost on the way to dinner because I told her to not googlemap the place; we would try to find it on our own just by wandering. On our trek, we happened upon a medieval store that was offering broad sword, rapier and jousting lessons. We immediately entered because swords are awesome. Inside, an overzealous sword master tried to convince us to join their classes. We only wanted to watch some sword fights. As we watched, I realized how dorky the people were; full of LARP-fags and D&D enthusiasts. I shouldn’t hate though; I wish I was as passionate about anything as they were about their craft. We left and soon found the alternate Famous Warehouse location. It was pretty quiet inside. I felt comfortable with her. I ordered the Chicken Caesar Wrap with a side of salad. She got the Beef Dip with a side of fries. She commented on the femininity of my order. I laughed. As we ate, she had somehow gotten a piece of food on her jawline. I didn’t want to embarrass her by wiping it away so I tried my best not to stare at it too hard. In talking to her, I learned she hated anything that had to do with tomatoes, even pasta sauce. That was disappointing to hear because one of the few things I could cook is a mean penne pasta. During the meal, I had the chance to subtly study her face, or at least I hope it was subtle. She has a cute button-nose and fantastically shaped eyes; it must be her half-Asian genes. She has full lips with which she tries to cover her toothy smile. On her lips she has a small piercing. Hot. Her skin is fair and I imagine it freckles with enough sun. The way that she moves her hair from her face gives it an air of sexuality. This is kinda creepy now that I think about it. Fuck it. I’m an observant mother fucker. In the end, both our meals totalled $15. I had recently been having an inner debate about gender equality and ‘paying for dinner’ was this grey area where, even though I’d be willing to pay for the full meal, it would be cool if I somehow got her to pay for half. In the past, with other girls, I always paid for everything. And when I say everything, I mean e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. As I went to pay for the meal, she threw a fiver my way. I am in no position to reject it. She didn’t seem phased. Before leaving the dive, she freshened up in the little girl’s room and I noticed that the food on her jawline was gone.

After dinner, we walked some more. I wanted to hold her hand but again, I resisted (read: chickened out). I gave her some halls, because I didn’t have any mint candy or gum. She commented on how it made her feel even colder. On Hastings St., we passed the Church of Scientology. I said that we should go in. We both felt that the church was ridiculous. She said that she would feel bad for going in and making them feel like we were deriding them. I sorta agreed but I was in a mischievous mood. Instead we stood outside the church entrance, to see how long it would take for someone to come out and try to recruit us. At the entrance there was this video montage put together that would put lesser people in a trance. We are not lesser people. No one came through the transparent doors, despite giving Julia and I many puzzling looks. We went on to walk along Coal Harbour on Waterfront and it was surprisingly isolated. The night was beautiful despite a light shower and a brisk breeze. North Vancouver lighting the dark night across the Vancouver Harbour would be a great backdrop to share a first kiss so I pulled her in. I didn’t feel much electricity between us but I knew I wanted to kiss her. I don’t know how she felt. I couldn’t read her expression. I want to say that she was smiling coyly but I was too giddy to realize. I held her close and I asked her if she was still feeling cold. She said no. Her answer made me more hesitant that I would have liked to have been. I slowly moved in to kiss her. I felt like I wanted to nuzzle her instead. I went through with the kiss and she responded in kind. We kissed in front of the water, the stars, the sky, the wind, the rain drops and the mountain. It was very Vancouver. Her kisses were soft. I didn’t feel her piercing on my lips. The kiss did not feel synchronized. I think our kissing patterns are different. That could be solved with practice though, which I imagine would be fun. I didn’t want to betray any signs of over-eagerness so I left my hands on the small of her back. Her hands rested against my arms. It was cozy. Afterwards, I held her and looked into her eyes, to gauge her expression. My own thoughts clouded my mind so I still couldn’t read her. I think we were both smiling. I honestly don’t remember. I think she was in the same state, because as we stared at each other she asked me what I was looking at. I didn’t know. I told her I was just feeling giddy. The rain picked up and we went looking for an awning. Though at the time, I couldn’t think straight and I called it an eavesdrop, and in trying to correct myself I called it an overhead. For some reason, my French was coming out. I said, “Il pleut.” instead of it’s raining. Luckily she understood. Beneath the awning, as I sat and she stood, I held her again. She held my head as I held her at her waist. I wanted her near and she went along with it. She said my head smelled nice. I asked, “Like what?” She just said that I smelled like something nice. With my head at chest level, I said that her chest smelled nice. “My boobs?” she said. “Yes,” I said, “your boobs smell like boobs.”

We kissed some more. And walked some more. We found ourselves at the Anglican Cathedral on Burrard and Georgia. I was still feeling mischievous so I offered that we break into the church and make out there. She was for it. We couldn’t break in though. We walked more and found ourselves in front of the ritzy Georgia Hotel. I suggested we make out in front of the old rich people eating along the window. She was not for it. I picked her up in rebellion. She was a lot lighter than I thought. She said I was a lot stronger than she thought. We walked further and we found ourselves on Granville St.. We stopped at another awning and I suggested we busk. We tried rapping but I guess we didn’t look poor enough to have change thrown at us. We kissed some more but she said that my scruffy stache tickled her. It made me self-conscious because these whiskers that I’ve been growing for “Movember” are pubescent at best.

Time flew and the temperature was ever dropping. We took the same train home. While sitting, I put my palm face up on her leg. She surrendered her hand to mine. Her hands were cute and decked in rings. My French was showing again when I asked her if she “ported” many rings often.

My stop came and I kissed her goodbye.

Tonight, I’m supposed to see her again, since it’s Dodgeball Tuesday. I’m not sure how to act with her with all our other friends there. I feel like I should definitely kiss her. But I also feel like it shouldn’t be an exhibit for every one of our friends to gawk at.

We’ll see what happens though.

And with that, I’ve procrastinated writing yet another paper. Back to the books.


Smoking, As I Sit Here Now

A year ago today, you were lonely in a new town. I was just lonely. That day, we had our first date; our first kiss. While sitting with coffee waiting for you, my insides were swirling with dither. I had previously quit smoking but I bought a pack of 25 to settle my nerves. The air was electric, or maybe my own internal ambiance sparked the winds. As I sit here now, waiting with a fresh carton, that same breeze hazes over me still.

This time last year you said that you knew what you were doing. “Though I love him, I know what meeting with you here means.” I told you that I knew that you knew. “I knew what seeing you would do to me,” you said.

Sitting here now, with coffee and cigarettes in the very place where we shared that first kiss, all the feelings nebulously resurface. The night was cold as I sat in an aura of cozy smoke. With each drag, the sounds of a sizzling cigarette painted the autumn night sky. You did not ask but I handed you a stick wordlessly. You said that you would only smoke when you were drunk. My presence inspired you to long for a slow, burning pull. I moved to kiss you but you met me three-quarters of the way. You were intoxicating. The kiss was rushed and patient; lasting and terse. Passionate; faces pressed; noses tickling cheeks; heavy breathing. Our teeth clicked. Your lips were soft. Mine were hungry. I coaxed my tongue into your mouth. Oh so gratifying. I savoured your silk aroma, previously untainted with tobacco. You tasted pure. It was refreshing. Then you exhaled.


I knew what you would do to me. You said that you knew what you were doing. But as I sit here now in that same dreary zephyr, I wait for her.

Normal: Tuesday, October 30th, 2012

Today was normal, and despite how boring that sounds, I am ecstatic about it. For far too long have my days been sub par. And today I hit par. It might have to do with the fact that I’ve been eating more; I’ve also since stopped smoking cigarettes. My total mental health seems to have taken yet another turn for the better.

This morning, I awoke fairly early. My morning routine has been gradually starting earlier and earlier until today, I woke up at a healthy 8:00 AM. For some reason I didn’t mope around for too long and I got my ass to school. After class, I went to my appointment with Corey, my therapist. He helped remind me to be mindful. I had almost forgot about last weeks lesson: don’t waste the present by worrying about the future and reminiscing the past. I felt empowered after the hour long session. There’s nothing I can do about the past. And I can control my future by staying in the present. If I can remind myself that I am in control of my present, I can control my future. Such a small realization, that I had already known but not absorbed, really lifted my mood.

How peculiar a time: my mood lifts and I’ve run out of anti-depressants. It’s been almost a week since I’d taken my last pill, and somehow, I feel more alive. I can’t attribute my mood to the absence of pills though. Perhaps it’s just a coincidence. I’ve also been practising yoga every two-three days. Yoga really helps me to remain mindful of my surroundings and situation.

On the way home, I walked behind a blond girl with a spectacular ass. It was torture to pry my eyes from her bodacious behind. But I didn’t want to leer. My mind raced with ways to chat her up. I only thought of something to say after I realized that I’d been lingering on her ass for too long. It was too late and the creep-factor had already set it. When chatting up a girl, one can not be hesitant. He who hesitates, masturbates. You’d think that I would learn this idiom after last week’s experience. Coming home from school Thursday morning, I caught a tiny, cute girl looking my way on the bus. I dismissed it and buried my face into my iPhone. For some reason I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched and when I looked up again, I had caught her looking away, and she was smiling. I felt extremely self-conscious and thought maybe I had some boogies hanging out. Using my camera phone I checked. No sign of stalactites. Looking up again, she was smiling at me. I panicked and looked out the window. Only after she got off the bus did my adrenaline subside. Only then did I think of something to say. “Hi, you’re cute, what’s your name?” Even a simple, “Hello” would have sufficed. I tried to get too fancy with picking her up. Sometimes just initiating the conversation is enough. But alas, he who hesitates, masturbates.

Despite feeling wistless about the situation with Julia, we’d been texting one another almost daily. Our texts felt respectively forced. However, physical attraction alone seems to be holding it together. Maybe she’s just feeling nervous. Maybe I am. Tonight she bailed, last minute, despite pumping me with texts about dressing up for tonight’s Halloween-themed dodgeball session. Fuck it.

Kyle, a dodgeball team mate, messaged me saying that he would be dropping acid before our game. I was tempted to ask him to save me a tab. It would make tonight so much fun. Just thinking about psychedelics is giving me the shivers. I feel my adrenaline pumping now. But I’m trying to abstain. I keep telling myself that I’ve passed that phase of my life. My body tells me otherwise.

Evan will also be missing out tonight. I hope his anxieties aren’t acting up again. He recently sent me his finished short story. In it, he touched on his feelings towards my mental state, which was touching. However I hope it doesn’t change our friendship’s dynamics. It feels weird writing about this here, since he’ll probably be reading it, and since we haven’t talked about it face-to-face. What a strange dance this is.

Last night I dreamt about my late grandmother. I miss her incredibly. I dreamt of my last couple days with her in the hospital before she passed. Except instead of dying, she recovered. I hope I dream of her every night. Those dreams feel so damn real. Her voice and touch were all so vivid. She felt so close to me. In my dreams, her smell was absent, though. I don’t remember what that smells like. It’s weird that I miss her old lady smell; a smell so distinctly hers.

In the dream she called my name in that way that she only does. “Jay.” She wasn’t in any pain, in the dream; a stark contrast of what transpired. She was just lying in the hospital bed, looking at me in that loving way that only grandmothers can. My heart melts when thinking of that face.

It’s hard to type this, especially with my vision blurring and my face leaking.

I miss you grandma.

I don’t necessarily believe in a Christian version of heaven. But I believe that when we die, we all return to one, over-arching consciousness. My own version of heaven. I know she’s out there, somewhere.

I love you grandma.

I hope I can make you proud.

Drunk: Thursday, October 24th, 2012.

I’m drunk.

Tonight, I got slaughtered.

I write to you now in an incredibly inebriated state. I think you might enjoy it.

As Hemingway once said, “Write drunk, edit sober.”

Fuck editing.

This afternoon I practised some yoga. It made me feel better. All day, I was looking forward to Claire’s birthday bash.

Last night, we played dodgeball. We won many of our games except for our games against The Icemen. They wrecked our team. Josh, a team mate, said they were good. He wasn’t lying. They slaughtered us. Afterwards, we were to get drinks for Claire’s upcoming birthday. She was to turn 23 at midnight. We had no idea where we were going to go, but we knew that we wanted to get drunk. And drunk we got. We went to some bar on Main St.. When we sat, I felt left out because I had no table to share. We were put in a small booth. We later got switched to a bigger booth that accommodated all of us. We shot the shit: Claire, Josh, Evan, Reg, Kyle, the seductive Julia and I. All night, I was not getting any signals from Julia; I thought maybe I could woo her. All she sent my way were awkward stares. I’m sure she gave them to the rest of the guys as well. Anyway, it was Claire’s birthday and we would celebrate, sexual tension be damned. All night, I saw Julia giving Kyle “the business”. I thought nothing of it because I was sure he was in a committed relationship. Josh and the rest of the guys proceeded to buy Claire random shots, made to get her wasted. I think they succeeded. At one point of the night I asked Claire, “What’s the deal with Julia?” She said that she was supposed to be dealing with this guy who now lives in Switzerland. I said, “Fuck that guy,” She agreed and asked me if I was interested. Of course I was interested. This hot, half Asian little number could get this dick. Claire informed me that Julia found me “extremely attractive.” BONUS!. I asked Claire to be my informant and to get the skinny on how Julia felt about me. By the end of the night we were all quite tipsy and feeling good. Earlier I had balanced a pint of beer on some army figurines, consequently spilling all over the table and my friends. I was feeling embarrassed about it. Claire telling me that Julia thought I was hot evaporated that embarrassment  At the end of the night, I had planned to go home but everyone else wanted to drink more and get into more debauchery. My not wanting to come along somehow persuaded everyone else to find a bar close by. We found none and instead told dead baby jokes, while Evan passed out in the car. We hadn’t had a lot to drink so I dismissed him feeling sick and told myself he was just tired. He really did conk out in the car, though. I guess age brings down our tolerance. We said our goodbyes and Kyle dropped me off. On the ride to drop me off, Kyle and I shot the shit. We talked about his girl living in Japan and it comforted me to know that he probably wouldn’t be vying for Julia’s affection. I smoked cigarette’s walking home and realized that I’d finished almost the whole pack in one day. When I got home, my auntie, Mama Rose, was still awake. I made excuses for coming home late and went straight to bed, except I couldn’t fall asleep ’til five in the morning.

Today I woke up around 11:00 and tried to psych myself into going into class. What a fruitless endeavour. So I practised some yoga instead. Blossom, Mama Rose’s daughter and my cousin, came home at the end of my yoga demonstration. The yoga made me feel good about myself. Blossom and I talked about our days. She told me about her clinical class where she had to rub Vaseline into a newborn’s eyes. I lied to her and told her I went to class and felt shitty so I came home to practise yoga. She bought it. We shot the shit about my depression and her phobia towards anything eye-related. Afterwards, I ate and researched for my upcoming Latin American History essay. I got some decent work accomplished, all while psyching myself for the nights event: Claire’s birthday.

I left around 7:00 because I’d heard Julia and Claire say that they intended to be at the bar around 7:00; I thought I’d be fashionably late but when I asked them where they were, they said that they’d only be there around 8:00. So I got off the bus early and decided to walk the rest of the way. On the way to the bar, I took pictures of random shit because I was early, so I took my damn time. My Instagram is glitchy so I don’t know when I’ll be able to upload the pictures. I ended up getting lost on my way to the bar and only arrived at the bar around 8:10. Julia and Claire were already there with Sam and Melissa, friends of Claire’s. They were playing some stupid card game that I couldn’t get invested in.

I’d thought that tonight, I’d make my move on Julia, but only after we’d both had enough to drink. Turns out that she had to leave early, about an hour after I’d gotten there and no progress was made on that front. She was texting somebody the whole time so I felt neglected. No biggie, I was supposed to be there for Claire’s birthday.

I taught Claire and her friends how to play Kent, a favourite card game of mine. They picked it up quickly but Julia left midway through. Fuck it. I texted Evan because I’d felt bad about not previously inviting him. I only realized after that Claire was welcoming all and everyone.

We shot the shit and after a while more friends of Claire’s arrived. Only one of them was cute but she wasn’t giving me any sexy vibes so I dropped it. The cute one, Olivia brought cupcakes for everyone. Delicious and unexpected. After a while, we began playing kings. At that point I was getting pretty tipsy, but I didn’t care, despite having class at 8:30 the following morning. We played many fun rounds of kings. I tried to get vibes off the cute one but it was a no go. Later, I would learn that she had a boyfriend. So I told myself, “Fuck it. My one goal tonight is to get Claire hammered and by extension, ensuring she had an unforgettably drunkenly forgettable night.” I succeeded. The whole night, I teased Claire about getting up and singing Baby Got Back on karaoke. Thank Allah that Olivia was a wild child and thought the same as me. The rest of ’em were squares and I couldn’t give two shits about them.

Claire drunkenly reiterated Julia’s supposed interest in me. However, she said that Julia would only get with me after the dodgeball season was up, in case it didn’t work out and shit got awkward. I took it to mean that Julia wasn’t interested, period. It’s funny because Evan said he’d dreamt about Julia saying she was into me. I asked him if I got laid in his dream. I didn’t.

By the end of the night, I’d succeeded in getting Claire hammered and regaling the others of the previous nights debaucheries. Claire’s friends, apart from the cute one (Olivia), were boring as shit. Together, Olivia and I managed to get Claire and her boring friends to dance, karaoke, and be loud and obnoxious; just how I like my drunks. At the end of the night, in the process of getting Claire hammered, I’d gotten myself extremely drunk and obnoxious, along with Olivia. Her boyfriend showed up towards the end and she quickly got boring.

Claire and her friends decided that they wanted sushi. I wanted no part, despite only eating only the whole day, so I told them that I’d just walk home, but not before pissing over a shit-ton of windowed-doors and private establishments.

So I walked home from Main St., at around 12:15 AM.

On the way home I smoked cigarettes none stop. For some reason, I felt the compulsion to burglarize people. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I didn’t happen upon anyone. However, along the whole 30-plus-block walk home I attempted to open every car along the way. A grand total of 3 cars were unlocked, out of maybe . . . 30. On the first one, I robbed a nice beanie tuque, an empty CD binder and a pair of new iPhone headphones. I closed that car and returned everything to its place, so as to be sure that the owners thought that they had simply misplaced their belongings. I tossed the CD binder on a neighbour’s car. The second car I robbed was on a driveway. They had nothing of value except a few spare coins. Despite this, I took everything available and tossed it along neighbours’ cars and the street. I left the door ajar and everything in a mess. I thought, “Fuck them. If the can’t learn to lock their doors, they deserve to know that someone robbed them.”

I felt like a badass and I loved it, foolishly. I put my hoodie on and ashed my cigarettes in the car. Fuck them. I left their car in a mess. I even took my time, since I heard no alarm. And if they had a camera, I wasn’t worried. Even if they saw my face, how could they identify me (with no priors) in a city of millions people filled with junkies, criminals and vagrants.

As I walked home I left my mark by setting off the alarms of at least 3 other cars. I didn’t give a fuck. No one was awake and I knew it.

The bus I was supposed to take passed but I didn’t care: I was having too much fun robbing folks.

As I neared my apartment, I thought of not touching any cars. But fuck it. Butt fuck it (pun). I didn’t care. The closer I got to my place, the more feverish I got in searching for a car to rob. I found my final target: a van. There was absolutely nothing to thief so I just ransacked the car in retaliation. I took everything that wasn’t nailed down and put it all over neighbours’ cars and property. I thought that it would be funny come morning: the van’s owner would be all, “What the fuck?!” That was funny to me, somehow.

The closer I got to my apartment the more careless I got. A man walking his dog caught me trying to pry any unlocked car doors open. Who the fuck walks their dog at one in the morning?

Fucking loser.

He didn’t have the ‘nads to confront me, despite catching me in my crimes. I’m only 5’10”, 160 lbs. and he didn’t say shit, despite being bigger than I.

Fucking pussy. I probably could have kicked his ass, though.

After that man saw me, I decided it was enough. I hurried home. When I got there, my auntie was still awake and I was still very drunk. I mumbled an excuse. I didn’t understand the words coming out of my own mouth but Mama Rose bought it. Or maybe she didn’t and just didn’t have the energy or care to confront me. I hurried into my room and anxiously began writing.

And now, with the end of this entry, I leave you much less inebriated than when I began. I’m still not tired though. I’ll try to stay awake all night to attempt to fix my sordid sleep schedule. T-minus four hours. We’ll see what happens.

After slaving away for an hour, un-sober, and trying really hard not to fuck up grammatically, I hope you enjoy, dear reader.

Fuck editing.

Drunk no more, but still not sober.

Peace, nigga.

I have to piss real badly.