My birthday is creeping up. I really don’t care for holidays; I mean if someone wants to buy me a present, they’ll get it when something screams out my name, not when they have to. I’ll be 28. It’s almost 10 years now since I finished high school. 10 years I’ve been a vegetarian. Many things have come full circle, come and gone. 10 years ago I was dating a wonderful woman, slender and pale (I know I use that too much, it’s from a silly musical number that I listen to a lot.) She had almost waist-length, extremely fine blonde hair, porcelain-white skin that seemed impossible in the San Bernardino sun, and azure eyes; perfect Aryan complexion, even if her body was too thin for that ideal. She weighed about what I did, which is really not healthy for a woman. A woman that thin usually can’t menstruate and has very brittle bones. I remember that she had surgery on her wrists. I had such a circle then. The young, (dis)affected, and drunk. Someone gave me a Smiths tape; another drove me to Club Metro every few nights. We lived in the Cafes and subsisted on Cinema. (“Music in the Cafes at night and Revolution in the air.”) Context and time have gone supernova, red-hot plasma in a furious course across the Void (“Jaded reputation / on which you're staking / Lots of money for the making / For all the stars / they're just faking / Love in a Void.”)

“I never took the smile away from anybody’s face
And that’s a desperate way to look
For someone’s who’s still a child.”
-Big Country “Big Country”

“Neon on my naked skin, passing silhouettes
Of strange illuminated mannequins
Shall I stay here at the zoo
Or should I go and change my point of view”
Alphaville “Big in Japan”

I went out last night with my partner in crime here in Toronto and one of the women that works at this center. We went to a café/restaurant. I had a few beers, the ladies and the two gentlemen they had also invited each had coffee. The women are very attractive, slender and pale. The lines of stress and pain haven’t started creasing their foreheads yet. They seem soft and naive but I know they have seen as much of the world’s sorrow as I. In another context, I might have held one of their hands or brushed a stray hair from a cheek, but this is a friendly encounter and besides, I had invited myself along for lack of anything better to do on my own. The two other men are also attractive. Not my usual type, they are tanned and strong. They look like they might have played sports in school but might just work out now. I think I might be interrupting something, but I stay. If they didn’t want me there they would have said so. It’s an enjoyable night but they have to wake early and we depart. I go to a bar near Bathurst and Queen, where the Goth places are. I’d taken the subway to Queen but I’d taken a wrong turn. A prostitute asks me for a cigarette. It takes me a while to figure out her story. I can be dense sometimes. The Goth places are closed, so I turn into another bar a block or so away. It’s somewhat seedy. I had a beer I’d never tried before, Molson 50 or something like that. An Asian man flirts with me and we play pool. He gives me his phone number. I only left to go to a cash machine, but it was too difficult to find one so I take a cab back to the hotel when one turns up.

I find myself getting drunk alone in my hotel room watching cable. Just like home without my computers, with cable tv, and I have to go out in the snow to smoke.

It's still snowing. I keep singing "Blue Savannah" to myself.

Somewhere 'cross the desert
Sometime in the early hour
To the orange side
Through the clouds and thunder

My home is where the heart is
Sweet to surrender to you only
I send my love to you

I miss you. I realized too late that I needed to spend more time in your arms. Our time together was far too short. I remember waking under your heavy blankets with you still clutching on to me in your sleep. It was so warm in our cocoon that I was sweating. The rain pelted the window; the clouds diffused the pale morning light. Any exposed flesh felt the steel cold from outside, but under here we only know our bodies¡¯ flames. Outside meant much more than the cold and rain, it meant coming to terms with my insecurities and loneliness. I realize now that I was holding on enough to keep my footing in the world and allowing you just enough attention to get what I needed. That really was not fair. If I wanted to be in your arms, I should have given all the love and attention that you needed. It¡¯s so amazing that you still care for me after all this time. Sitting here 2,700 miles away I imagine you teetering precipitously on the edge of the continent, your hair dye streaming in with the clouds and bootlaces falling through the gentle hills heading east over the dead bodies still hiding in the woods, victims of demons long since faded into the mist. The torches from the lighthouses guide your way, higher and higher into the blue void. The pink from your hair is washing out more now, staining the sky like we stained our pillows. I¡¯m clutching at your skirt hem, a slight muslin gauze that dissolves to my touch. The blue of the sky is staining your stockings; delicate silk stretching around your calf muscles and following your boots back down to the firmament. I don¡¯t know why these images burn themselves into my eyes.

The snow has become rain. The dry white night has devolved into a wet slush like a dropped Slushie from 7-11. I'm realizing I don't have the energy to do this. What made me think that, if I had trouble at home, flying across the continent would somehow change things? All it has done is put me farther away from the people that can help me. There are people screaming in Russian all around me. I miss the comfort and privacy of my apartment. Even if I don¡¯t like the apartment or where I¡¯m at, at least it¡¯s mine. I can sleep in the closet or the bathroom if the bed isn¡¯t comfortable, or if there¡¯s too much light. There is a stove. I know where my things are. I find myself between despair and panic, just like home, but it¡¯s more difficult to deal with here. Oh well, lesson learned. Time to grow up, Jim.

This sucks. Being in a different time zone from everyone I know makes it difficult to IM or email anyone.

I'm going to quote your diary here. It's posted elsewhere, but I'll take it down if you tell me to. "Life's Too Short." I keep telling myself that... It's a realization that I had during the Pet Shop Boys concert, sorta. It's something I have always known, and still need to remind myself of, actually. Said concert helped me with that, but over the last few days, it's become increasingly difficult to be in the moment, and to fathom that life's too short.
The night I saw the Pet Shop Boys I was with two women, one of which I had recently broken up with. Well, more than that. The previous night I punched her new boyfriend in the nose and then had him arrested. I was going through another friend's page tonight and found a link to this. I don't believe in Tarot or Karma but sometimes we are faced with synchronicities. We shared a few moments many years ago; your diary says you were near Las Vegas recently, and now this small conjunction. Vade in pace, my friend.

I just found out a former lover was in Las Vegas and didn't try to contact me.

My bottom wisdom teeth have started pushing two of my front teeth out. It's not visible from my smile yet, but it soon will be, if the teeth don't just pop out. It's a good metaphor for much of what is happening in my life. I’ve got some nasty things boiling to the surface. Chemicals, dramas, desires, and dreams pushing somewhere bad, but I’m not quite sure where or why.

There's a cam-ball on this machine.