i walk through the streets and memorize the city

I LOVE:

-just sitting around, on the steps of Robson Square, on my way home from school, sitting right next to the ever-present cluster of bike messengers and the ubiquitous marijuana cloud

-yesterday's Green Day gig. They rocked SO hard i was so into it even as my nose was bleeding from the seats way up at the GM plaza

-smoking up

-vancouver when it rains. or rather, after it rains. it just seems so much more peaceful, relaxed then.

-my philosophy lecturer Brent. He is SO COOL. Think hugh grant with a revolving wardrobe of hawaiian/bowling shirts, salt and pepper crop, and slightly stoned. He totally hates me though, cos i never attend class.

-amer1ca's next t0p m0del. why? This.

-coal harbour. i go there when i'm down, which is often, being increasingly mercurial these days. the benches have these tributes? inscriptions? obituaries? on them, and its so sweet and sincere and loving. all from a bench, i know.


some crackhead came up to me and selvin the other day when we were chilling outside at Blenz. He was pissed off, probably because of something the women at the next table said to him when he was asking for change or something. (incidently, as an asian student, we either get hit up lots, cos ppl figure you're not too jaded by the rampant panhandling around here to refuse food or cigarettes, or the street people steer clear of you cos they think you wont understand them or something. too bad, cos they would've gotten a smoke off me otherwise).
anyway, the guy storms over to us, with this deranged look on his face, and i think he's gonna kick my backpack or my ass or something which wou;d really suck cos i had my notebook in my bag and i don't think futureshop's insurance policy covers 'attack by crackhead', but he just kicked the sign? board? advertising chinese food next to me and continued raving down the street.

not all crackheads or street people are like that though. one guy actually has a phd in philosophy. he approached me with the usual "spare a cigarette?' routine when i was sitting on the steps and smoking on the circular steps at the public library and we got to talking. turns out he has a doctorate from McG1ll's, though he was vague on how he went from being a Dr. to sleeping in a shelter in downtown eastside. i felt like a bit of a fraud talking with him though, cos the guy knows his shit, and me, not so much.

i like it here, i think. but i'll never be fully assimilated into this province, which sucks.

I found my old notebook today. Y’know, the one that everyone refers to as the NS one and into which I kept a running food diary? Oh MY GOD. Why did you guys let me out of my house? Did you not catch on as to why my lips always looked especially frothy? Those were not produced for the effect of aesthetic pleasure, people, those were SPECKLES OF FOAM. THE FOAM OF IMPENDING LUNACY.

An excerpt:

Wed Aug 18

-1 bwl cereal, ½ banana

-1 laksa

-handful of grapes

-1 chicken tart

- cai peng (originally written in Chinese characters, but if you think I’m going to search for a Chinese character inputter, wait for its slow-ass download , during which I would have to send away for adult diapers for the mature bed-wetter because it takes THAT LONG to download something, and then go through the process trying to remember my Telok Kurau Chinese lessons, of which my only lingering memories are of Tan Bee Bee calling Asraf “Ahchup” and her impressive impression of a Chinese teacher on speed, so that I can type the two words ‘cai peng’ into this blog entry, then you would be wrong. Very wrong. Not as wrong as putting out your cigarette in an old lady’s eye or anything, but still wrong.)

-chupa chups (chocolate vanilla)

Imagine that 90 days over, each with different variations on the spelling of “bowl” (sometimes, when I felt like mixing it up a bit, or there was more than one entry for “teh tarik”, I spelt it as “B0vvl”). It’s also a somewhat unfavourable reflection on my intellect (or sanity?) that, if I was already so far gone as to debate with myself over the percentage of banana I just consumed (“Was it half or one-third? Hmm, let’s compare it with the other bananas!”), how come I didn’t note the most important element of this journal-keeping, the calories?

My point is, how did you guys not pool your collective funds together on a giant butterfly net and hide in the nearby cemetery waiting for sounds of my footsteps? Had your eyes been misted over by the duty of platonic love, or by the dignified nobility of the belief of minding your own business? Or did Tuesday hawk a “gluttie-loogie” into your eyes too? (Re: Tues-Kris Battle of Grossed-Outness at The Publishing Room (also known to the particularly slow and abbreviation-(dis)inclined as the PR room. Victor? See above spit-in-eye reference).

CHAO I LOVE YOU YOU ARE THE BEST YOU ARE THE EMPRESS OF HELL! MUACKZ MUACKZ *KISSEZ* LOLZ!!11!!!1!!!!!1!!

(SHOUTOUT TO MY PEEPS SEAN PLANT NAS JIG TUES JOHN S. HEINZ SITI ALI WEISHENG LAU and others I’m sure I forgot to mention. But not because you’re unimportant to me. Its just, y’know, I had baked mussels today, and while they tasted good, my stomach and colon disagreed, and, apparently, diarrhoea has amnesiac effects. Anyway, I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch much, and I really, really miss you guys.

I know, I can’t get away with “shoutout to my peeps”. Its like me wearing playboy-bunny ears leaning down to expose my cleavage for a better tip.