Current column here, older ones in archive
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i just finished reading brainscan #19, and it inspired me. in this issue, alex says about travel zines, 'what did you think about? not just what did you do. what did the experience remind you of?' i put pen to paper with the intention of laying out a particular weekend with my thoughts and very little detail surrounding what i was actually doing. which was driving for a long while, stopping, driving for a longer while, dropping off scorpions, meeting the hugest dog ever, meeting a bunch of people i don't know, driving more, peeing in the snow, driving more, getting drunk, talking till 6am, beer for breakfast and four new tattoos. - driving around in mid-afternoon, all squished up in the back seat reminded me of early high school. except in high school, i was always huddled in the back seat writing random thoughts, and capturing quotes. i was all about the quotes. almost as if by capturing the words, or the thought, i was capturing the moment somehow. and as i suppose it goes for many, the people saying those words and sharing those thoughts are not a part of my life at all anymore. i suppose i can blame years of being out of it and only writing at home and on public transportation for not remembering to bring a notebook with me. there were so many opportunities to write, too. not just the long ride itself, but more than once, i was alone in the car for long enough to spill some thoughts onto paper. i'd better not forget next time. my backseat partners were two scorpions and their huge tank. i think scorpions are misunderstood, they're not going to just wig out and attack. right? that's what i told myself for the two hours or so we were sitting next to each other. i also thought about a girl i knew who had a tattoo of a scorpion on her hip. she was a really fun girl and we'd go exploring in china town finding the most absurd and therefore great treasures. her parents pressured her into going to university, and she eventually went, and she was so busy and i didn't see her for a long time. she ended up leaving university in her second year and moving to montreal with a boy. i've never really been afraid of dogs, i think it's more of a nervous feeling that is directly related to the size of the animal. so when we finally got out of the car, on our second long distance errand of the day, we were greeted by the largest. dog. ever. (russ swore he saw a bigger dog, but even he can attest to the sheer hugeness of this thing) i was more than just a little freaked out. the three small children rough housing with the giant thing, they seemed to think i was being a bit of a baby. my family has it's own dynamic, as does any other. every family has it's odd bits, and some are slightly odder than others. the 'bunch of people i don't know', that i met were all part of a friend's family. i kept feeling as though i stood out, or as if they were wondering exactly where i fit in, but they were all totally friendly and none made me feel weird. the way they responded to me is the same way my family responds to me bringing over unexpected guests when i go for a visit, making me (almost) forget about the odd bits. so sitting in my friend's father's living room, i couldn't help but think, what are the odd bits in this particular house, as there seems to be at least a little in every house. driving at night is so great, or rather, riding in a car that someone else is driving at night is so great. especially all those stretches that don't have any lights. i'm sprawled in the backseat wondering what sorts of adventures my sister may be having. she's got a lot more spunk and mischievousness in her than most people think. nothing elextra could do would surprise me. she could elope with a mime, run away to norway and start wearing skirts and i wouldn't be befuddled in the least. unless, of course, she didn't send me any postcards. so i'm all zoned out and we stop for gas, and the bastard who stole shotgun and had me living in the backseat, called to the gas guy to squeegie the windows. bathurst and king, lakeshore and dowling, cops stopping, avoiding getting hit, getting hit, cait, christine, andy, katherine. insanity. i made a comment about his technique and talked about it as vaguely as possible. i guess it's the kind of thing you can only 'get' if you're submerged in it, and even then, you can still sit in the middle of it and wonder what the hell you're doing there. during this specific evening, i had to pee frequently. i have no idea why, i honestly don't think i consumed more liquids than usual, i really think it's russ' car. so i declare 'i'm really sorry, but i have to pee again', and i get 'you can't, there's nothing between here and where we're going'. pfft. the first time i peed in the snow, was something like 5 years ago, and i was dressed far more appropriately. i had a much better excuse the first time, too, simply due to the coffee with bailey's count that began that particular adventure. so i got out of the car, envied the peni who just stood there peeing, and walked off to the shadows, knee deep in snow. reach our final destination, which is actually not that far from where we started, and i proceed to drink. and drink. and such is the case when i start, i drink some more. in the last three and a half years, the opportunity to actually get drunk, and not just have a couple of drinks, has presented itself about a half dozen times. so when it presented itself in the form of my wee one having a sleepover at my in laws' place that evening, i took it. and it wasn't the getting loud and obnoxious kind of drunk like cait and i used to partake in, it was more of a calm drunk, a stay up all night talking about absolutely nothing and watching tv i don't have at home drunk. i'm sitting there gabbing away and i recall a time when i didn't consider someone a close friend if i hadn't stayed up all night gabbing with them. i used to hold it as some kind of friendship milestone or something. while late night drunken banter is often loads and loads of fun, friends that i haven't shared this experience with are no less close to me than those friends who have. just a few hours later, i'm awake and my head feels like lead. after attempting to be a good girl and downing 2 cups of coffee, i opt to have beer for breakfast and start feeling much better. during the time between leaving my parents house and 'officially' moving out, i'd spend weeks with my friend christine, her boyfriend and her daughter. cait often took refuse there as well. it was during a time when i hardly ever worked, i was so sluggish and happy to sit around with everyone and do nothing, i only worked when i absolutely had to. that was the first time in my life that i ever had beer for breakfast. days would run into each other and my guesses of what day of the week it was were often met with hysterical laughter. awake enough to have a steady hand, the bastard who stole shotgun and had me living in the backseat put me through more intense pain than i have ever experienced, by way of his tattoo gun (and let's remember that i have spawned). blissful, horrible pain in the form of this amazingly great tattoo. my wrist stars and stick girl were pretty painful too, the stars were by far the worst, and thankfully, also the fastest. there is no trace of modesty when i say that my wrists are beyond great. i am such a dork. i look at my neck in the mirror and i have two thoughts, 1. now i have an excellent excuse for wearing pig tails all the time, and 2. my mother is going to kill me. i agree that i am far too old to base my decisions on how my mother feels about certain things, but yeah, she's going to flip out on my next visit in a few months. |
