AUTOPSYCHOGRAPHY

Translated by Richard Zenith

I like how simple this poem is. i also like the beat…it seems to move on its own. i don’t have to think too much about reading it at all. it’s nice and light.

i had a good week-end. it started off real sketchy with car problems and feeling like a robot without feelings, but it progressed into living a little and some fun. i like the st. elisabeth’s terrace. i also like white russians, rosee and hanging out with boys. i also like hanging out with Veronica and Shaun. i do not like having to go to work this morning.

My internet was down yesterday morning, which explains the lack of postage for those of you that were worried.

I went to the fireworks (Australia) with Trent, a co-worker, last night. He had never been. It was a very nice outing, though i think the walk up those stairs may have killed us both. There were some awesome sparkler type explosions and the final was very pretty. The highlight of the display, however, was a great choice of accompanying songs. There were the big musical hits (Time Warp from Rocky Horror! Somewhere over the Rainbow!) and some good classic rock. It was well done. I am not sure whether i preferred Argentina’s display - it’s a close call.

I am at work and, yes, i know it is a Thursday and i am not supposed to work Thursdays. I was assigned to a special test project on Monday and the meeting is today, so i was given permission to come in and work a half day to be able to attend the meeting. This way i do not have to make up my taking off early on Friday to pick up Veronica whom is coming in to town for the week-end. I actually come out 2.5 hours ahead this week! Richness.

I did pretty badly on my Italian composition: 80%. The test did not go well either. Ugh. I have class tonight, but the homework is easy so i am on msn, working on the void yet again, and studying for the GREs; i am finally back in the groove. I begin at noon but need to take some notes on what i think is wrong with the script first.

I was informed that men can tell what type of underwear women are wearing at almost all times. Why didn’t anyone inform me of this before now? How do i live in a bubble? Don’t you guys have anything better to do?

Spent the afternoon with Eric. Instead of studying we went out for Chinese, had coffee at Vasco De Gama’s (Bryan, you were right, it is AWESOME), went to Lush and then spent the rest of the afternoon in Son Idea, an audio store. it was a nice day. my test did not go as well as my afternoon, but i likely should have studied.

This is a “i am posting because i feel obliged to” one. Hence the lack of anything even remotely interesting.

After staying up until 3:30am playing chess with a certain person whose initials are the same as those of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but re-arranged, i couldn’t fall asleep. I gave in at 4:30 and took a sleeping pill. Anna woke me up around noon to remind me we were supposed to be going to this unique event on Ile Ste. Helene.

I am not a big music fan nor particularly fond of electronic music, yet the sounds coming from the speakers at Parc Jean Drapeau were nicely ambient. We spread Anna’s vinyl mat down on a slope to the water and sat chatting in our bathing suits for the next couple of hours. We consumed a sausage in hot dog bun each and watched a little mop dog become entranced by the strings on my sarong. By 6pm we had had enough and returned to the island - me to come home and take a much needed nap and her to her Shakespeare readings.

We determined that though boys are a lot of trouble: you can’t live with them and you can’t live without them.

Also, everyone i am close to in life is a Pisces. Odd.

I mentioned feeling like Mary Poppins the other day in an early post. Well, Lisa and I watched it again, at like 2am yesterday, and i still feel like Mary Poppins - but i am not practically perfect in everyway that’s for sure. I have only the bad qualities of being Mary Poppins and none of the good. I am not cheery enough that’s for sure, though i do have the energy…LOL.

Mary Poppins is sad. She seems to live her life for others and have put her relationship with Bert on hold for some greater purpose. She genuinely cares, but gets forgotten in the end and lives a transient existence. Knowing i am out of here in a year makes me feel detached.

I am going to suggest to Bryan that we put on a skit of the “supercalifragilisticexpalidocious” skit for Talent night. Lisa agrees with me that Bryan and Dick Van Dyke have way too much in common for it to be healthy to pass up such an opportunity at acting like asses.

i don’t feel like doing my Italian homework or studying for my test on Tuesday. I am lazy. My cat went to the vet and got his shots on Thursday and has been moping around since. He is scaring me. I want him to move. The vet said he is healthy for an old man, but i want him to have energy again. Poor baby.

i am going with Anna to a party on Ile Ste Helene Sunday. What i really want to do this week-end is fly a kite. I will be popular at said party if i have a kite to fly. I don’t fill out a bikini as well as Anna, so i will need some ploy to not be stuck in her shadow (LOL). Where can i buy a kite in Montreal?

I have always wanted to fly a kite. I have never been successful. As a kid i would patiently try to make them myself from construction paper and straws with toilet paper tails. We bought one from a Walmart, Kmart or Ames every vacation i can remember, yet they never flew. I want to add this to my summer to-do list and then cross it off! i want to be a kite-flyer. Is anyone interested?

now…this is a cop-out post. i could write so much more that would be infinitely more interesting, but i have italian homework to do.

the assignment that i was up at 2:30am writing on Saturday was a 150 word composition on my ideal week-end. In Italian, conjuctions, prepositions and articles do not count as words. i hereby provide you with the version i am handing in: big thanks to Bryan for editing it and hopefully saving my mark. i am hoping that an A+ (or an A) will cheer me up. There is no downside to an excellent mark.

La mia perfetta fine settimana

La mia perfetta fine de settimana passa come questo: il venerdì dopo il lavoro, vado ad un cafè o una gelateria con i colleghi di lavoro. Un delli ragazzi m’ apporta a casa nella sua macchina perché nella mia perfetta fine de settimana io non ho bisogno di guidare nemmeno una volta. Non mi addormento molto tarde perché ho una settimana molto preoccupata!

Sabato mi sveglia alle otto o alle nove  – qualsiasi che preferisco. Faccio colazione lentamente mentre che leggo il giornale d’oggi o faccio una cruciverba. Dopo la colazione, vado nel giardino per diserbare ed annaffiare i fiori. Dopo che faccio la doccia, gli amici arrivano per me ed andiamo alla spiaggia. Il pomeriggio giochiamo a pallavolo, nuotiamo  e dopo leggo sul sole o prendo una siesta se sono stanca. La cena passa sulla spiaggia e consista di hot dog e hamburger che abbiamo preparato sul barbecue. La sera andiamo sul punto «Jacques-Cartier» per vedere il fuoco artificio da «La Ronde».

Domenica e un giorno più tranquillo. Dormo più tarde e dopo mi sveglio, faccio una passeggiata con il mio pattino in linea. Per il pranzo, miei genitori e me mangiamo i panini alla casa. Il pomeriggio lego un libro che mi piace o faccio i compiti facili con un te, i biscotti e il mio gatto nero. Si ho tempo, pulisco la mia stanza, pero solo sÏ non ho fretta. La sera, vado ad un ristorante per mangiare la cena con un’amica o un amico e andiamo al cinema o al teatro. Mi addormento compiaciuto della mia settimana divertente e riposante.

Ecco la mia perfetta fine de settimana.

If the soul lives on,though i’m not certain it does, i know what it is to be dead.

Lying on my back, the light in the room acquires a greyish tinge. My skin feels clammy, like coming in from the sun on a hot day and descending into a dank basement or cellar, but i’m not cold. I’m not hot either, though the sheet pulls across my skin like fingers dragging across cellophane. I can hear my heart beating in the hollows of my chest, muted by the inches of fat, skin and muscle, but it echoes, vacant and reverberating like the soundtrack eminating from the television set downstairs - unclear and dis-joined without the accompanying graphic.

I’ve forgotten how to force a limb to move - how to exert one’s will on the organism that houses it. I sigh in resignation. Sighing is a relief and i remember how to move. I roll over slowly, carefully, hyper-conscious of the shifting of my weight, yet unable to discern exactly how it’s dispersed across my thighs, butt and arms. I stare vacantly at the colours vivid enough to catch my attention. They still evoke memories, but not the emotions that usually make reminscing worthwhile. I close my eyes and stare at the different shades of black dancing without stimulation. I count my breaths: Inhale….wait…exhale…ONE…Inhale…wait…exhale…TWO…Inevitable and unasked for.

Why can’t i be so aware of being alive?

The preceding was a first draft of a piece of creative writing that began with my feeling like Mary Poppins and ended on a reflection on what it is to feel dead. Please share any criticism you might have. i hope to revisit in within the next couple of weeks.

my bad mood continued for most of the day and into the evening yesterday because i was not havinga very good day at work. By nightime i was feeling kind of sad and lonely, but i feel asleep quickly once i tried (around 2am) and didn’t wake up until 10am, so i can’t say that i didn’t get enough sleep. I may not be catching up on lost sleep, but at least i am not falling further behind.

the thunder and lightning was just awesome last night. i could hear the rain crashing down on the stone patio outside my window and it was alive outside. if i had not been wearing only a satin nightgown i might have gone out to dance in the rain - and as most people know how i NEVER dance, i obviously felt not sad, just not really alive.

I want to do something stupid. Something i can’t intellectualize and justify. Something crazy that will make the adrenaline run through my veins. Any suggestions?

It is a beautiful day out and i am supposed to be meeting Eric in town. I got up too late to get that haircut i promised my Dad i would get. Thursday is another day i guess. Thursday is payday actually. Something to look forward to. I need to buy stamps as i have three letters to mail.

Is it wrong to want to be a lesbian because i am sure it would guarantee me cuddling?

i am tired. i do not know what to wear to work or what to eat before going. i do not know what to bring for lunch. i do not know what was going on all last week between Peter and I and i don’t know if knowing would make me feel any less disappointed. i am taking it all very stoically, considering, but i realize that i really don’t like this job and will likely end up quitting by the end of the week. i don’t need the money that badly and the hours suck. i just seem like such a baby if i quit…but i have been considering leaving for a while, but was staying on because it was interesting on another level. with that level removed, i am again faced with the omnipresent question: “why do i put up with this shit?”