MONKEY! You don't even know and babe, right now I am sailing. I can hold on to this, I can get through - you can be anything you want to be. And the only thing that is really cliched is feeling like you need to be something.
I think you have to change what bothers you right now in the moment. If you change shit, or keep it the same because it'll pay off down the road - you'll make the road you're on miserable.
MY HOROSCOPE:
In 2011, I bet that memory won't play as big a role in your life as it has up until now. I don't mean to say that you will neglect or forget about the past. Rather, I expect that you will be less hemmed in by the consequences of what happened way back when. You'll be able to work around and maybe even transcend the limitations that the old days and the old ways used to impose on you. Your free will? It will be freer than maybe it has ever been. Your creative powers will override the inertia of how things have always been done.
AND THIS IS HOW WE CALL IT A COMEBACK
FUCK YES.
(SORRY FOR THE VULGAR LANGUAGE IN THIS POST)
Friday, December 17, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Banjos are so cool.
Rats, I'm sorry to hear your heart is hurting. And, I really miss you. My bank account hurts but life is good even though money is not. I am still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up... so many ideas, so little interest. Journalism? That ship has sailed. Hairdressing? Cons: having to stand in stilettos all day. Pros: a profession that doesn't discriminate against tattoos. Tattoo Artist? Cliché. Homeopathic Medicine? With the amount of schooling I'd have to do, I could become a "real" doctor. Artist? I wouldn't know where to begin. I started this post a few days ago but since then I have experienced a weekend of shit shows that supersede career options. I'd love to share it all with you but I am afraid it's dripping with drama and I know how much you hate that, so I won't. Conclusion: There are a lot of crazies in my life -if like attracts like then what the fuck does this say about me? I don't know. What I do know is that I'm gonna call you.
HUMPH.
HI MONKEY, SINCE I LAST WROTE YOU I HAVE FALLEN IN AND OUT OF LOVE AND MADE A MESS OF MYSELF AND I READ THAT POST I WROTE ABOUT DRAMATIC PEOPLE AND NOW FEEL I HAVE NOT THE RIGHT TO COMPLAIN ABOUT IT. (except maybe here a little bit)
recipe for a broken heart:
two clinically crazy people
13 year long dreams
with a dash of didn't have a fucking chance
prep time: 6 years
cook time: approx 2 1/2 months until DONE
temperature: smokin' hot and/or icy cold
PISCES HOROSCOPE:
Think back over the course of your life and identify any worthy ambitions that got irretrievably blocked or frustrated or squandered. Once you've named those lost chances, do a ritual in which you completely let go of them. As much as possible, give up all regrets. Flush the sadness. Forgive anyone who interfered. Wipe the slate clean. Only by doing this can you open the way to an opportunity that's lurking just outside your awareness. And what exactly is that opportunity? Even if I told you, you wouldn't know what I was talking about. Your ability to find it requires you to do the preliminary work of purging your remorse for missed opportunities.
recipe for a broken heart:
two clinically crazy people
13 year long dreams
with a dash of didn't have a fucking chance
prep time: 6 years
cook time: approx 2 1/2 months until DONE
temperature: smokin' hot and/or icy cold
PISCES HOROSCOPE:
Think back over the course of your life and identify any worthy ambitions that got irretrievably blocked or frustrated or squandered. Once you've named those lost chances, do a ritual in which you completely let go of them. As much as possible, give up all regrets. Flush the sadness. Forgive anyone who interfered. Wipe the slate clean. Only by doing this can you open the way to an opportunity that's lurking just outside your awareness. And what exactly is that opportunity? Even if I told you, you wouldn't know what I was talking about. Your ability to find it requires you to do the preliminary work of purging your remorse for missed opportunities.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Hello Monkey, I have missed you so...
So first a headnote, prologue - whatever.
I have an idea - this blog has been meandering all over the place without much direction, or action actually. Similar to both the above sentence and it's author. Anyhoo - my sweet monkey - how abouts you and me write each other via this little blog?
Granted, the posts will be a little more intimate then originally intended - but I quite like the idea and what is this whole big fat life if not an experiment, where on the best of days you are the mad scientist and on the worst of days your'e a research monkey or lab rat? Or maybe that's vica versa?
Also, we should pepper these letters with soundtracks. Give us a 'lil sumthin for the ears then, gov? Maybe recipes too - here we goes...
My Dear Monkey,
I am doggedly pursuing my happiness and I miss you so very very much. This evening, I was wasting time on the internets - trying to find a piece of myself somewhere and lo, I came across this. I can't tell you how happy it made me to read your words, see your photos and listen to the music you are fancying. I suppose that isn't true - I could but it would take up the whole damn page and there are other things I would like to tell you.
So strange to write you this way because I am wanting to blurt out everything that has happened to me recently - but am acutely aware of the privacy lacking in this here forum. Which funnily enough is a big part of some things I've been thinking about lately. It's hard to get your voyeuristic fix on the computer when you delete your online presence. Believe me, shit has not been the same since giving the social networks a big fat pink slip with "I think you're the DEVIL" scrawled across it (for good measure). The time spent on such sites has fostered in me a desire, as I mentioned, to be a voyeur of ...well -myself. Why am I so preoccupied with seeing my reflection on this electronic screen? Says the blogger to the pot in betwixt them both picking on the kettle. It isn't even good enough to just see ourselves, no - we need to groom and cultivate who we are on the intergalactic super highway. Always keeping in mind that someone, somewhere is watching. What kind of existence is that my friend? And how would it change you internally if you couldn't exist without premeditating how you are perceived externally? Well, as it so happens some would theorize it ain't much different from the existence women have been living for the past, um... fucking forever.
(there are 4 parts - i highly suggest watching them all)
So Monkey, in my pursuit of happiness I say "Well self, the silver lining is that the narcissistic nature of today's internet culture is distributing the wealth of persecutive insecurity us women have been hoarding." Always the optimist, I am.
I am so pleased to hear about the tattooing and schooling, I have continued to excel in my academics. It is amazing but it's hard not to perceive my success and stability as a wedge between myself and everything I've ever known. Confidence really is a stain you can't wipe off. And I've learned people are very particular about what kind of dirt or stains they'll tolerate or accept.
Please tell Freedom Denied I love them and think they are rad. You could tell yourslef that everyday until my next letter too.
Yours in absentia,
Rats.
I have an idea - this blog has been meandering all over the place without much direction, or action actually. Similar to both the above sentence and it's author. Anyhoo - my sweet monkey - how abouts you and me write each other via this little blog?
Granted, the posts will be a little more intimate then originally intended - but I quite like the idea and what is this whole big fat life if not an experiment, where on the best of days you are the mad scientist and on the worst of days your'e a research monkey or lab rat? Or maybe that's vica versa?
Also, we should pepper these letters with soundtracks. Give us a 'lil sumthin for the ears then, gov? Maybe recipes too - here we goes...
My Dear Monkey,
I am doggedly pursuing my happiness and I miss you so very very much. This evening, I was wasting time on the internets - trying to find a piece of myself somewhere and lo, I came across this. I can't tell you how happy it made me to read your words, see your photos and listen to the music you are fancying. I suppose that isn't true - I could but it would take up the whole damn page and there are other things I would like to tell you.
So strange to write you this way because I am wanting to blurt out everything that has happened to me recently - but am acutely aware of the privacy lacking in this here forum. Which funnily enough is a big part of some things I've been thinking about lately. It's hard to get your voyeuristic fix on the computer when you delete your online presence. Believe me, shit has not been the same since giving the social networks a big fat pink slip with "I think you're the DEVIL" scrawled across it (for good measure). The time spent on such sites has fostered in me a desire, as I mentioned, to be a voyeur of ...well -myself. Why am I so preoccupied with seeing my reflection on this electronic screen? Says the blogger to the pot in betwixt them both picking on the kettle. It isn't even good enough to just see ourselves, no - we need to groom and cultivate who we are on the intergalactic super highway. Always keeping in mind that someone, somewhere is watching. What kind of existence is that my friend? And how would it change you internally if you couldn't exist without premeditating how you are perceived externally? Well, as it so happens some would theorize it ain't much different from the existence women have been living for the past, um... fucking forever.
(there are 4 parts - i highly suggest watching them all)
So Monkey, in my pursuit of happiness I say "Well self, the silver lining is that the narcissistic nature of today's internet culture is distributing the wealth of persecutive insecurity us women have been hoarding." Always the optimist, I am.
I am so pleased to hear about the tattooing and schooling, I have continued to excel in my academics. It is amazing but it's hard not to perceive my success and stability as a wedge between myself and everything I've ever known. Confidence really is a stain you can't wipe off. And I've learned people are very particular about what kind of dirt or stains they'll tolerate or accept.
Please tell Freedom Denied I love them and think they are rad. You could tell yourslef that everyday until my next letter too.
Yours in absentia,
Rats.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
NOT TO WORRY: Most of the gulf oil spill has "evaporated into the air"
WoW! It's near three months since last anyone posted... I am ashamed of my absence from both the blog and my friendship to rats. I'm sorry; no excuses.
I guess life has been carrying on as usual in our own pieces of the world and what's new doesn't seem like news at all but I'll fill you in on MY BORING LIFE anyhow...
A friend of Rats and I, who also happens to be the owner of Hotel Skin (a tattoo parlour in Niagara Falls, ON) said she'd show me how to tattoo; if I supply the grapefruit. I have yet to take her up on her offer -though I am truly aching to know everything there is to know about tattooing. I think I could be really good at it and I've suddenly developed a passion for the art.
With that in mind, I have decided NOT to take Journalism this September. Instead, I am considering switching to the Personal Support Worker program come January 2011. I figure a lot of the curriculum applies to learning about tattooing as well. [don't ask me to explain how, just trust me; it does.] Plus, if tattooing isn't my thing after all, I'll have something to fall back on.
OH! I went to the G20 Summit protest in Toronto on the 26th of June. The pictures I took were AMAZING
and Chris got some excellent interviews with protestors, including the International Executive Director of Greenpeace. I thought he was going to write something about it but I don't know now. Either way, cool, cool.
After that we met up with friends at Duffy's Tavern in Toronto to celebrate my 30th with Freedom Denied. I had a killer time and saw some rad people I hadn't seen in yeeeaars.
Speaking of Freedom Denied, I hear they'll be playing their final gig in August @ Sneaky Dee's. More on the exact date and time to come.
*P.S. I think Rats should come to that one if she can find her way to Toronto next month.*
Oh, and I keep forgetting to mention the band Brown Bird. They're a super-cool indie/folk/country/blues/grassroots band, originally from Seattle...now settled in Rhode Island. Their album The Devil Dancing is my new favourite. David Lamb is a brilliant singer/songwriter and they are all supremely talented musicians. Have a listen @ http://www.myspace.com/brownbird/music/playlists.
I don't know what else to write about, unless you want to hear about my tubular ligation. No? Oh, well, then I guess that's it for now folks.
Peace!
Monday, May 10, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
HOW MANY DAYS HAS IT BEEN SINCE I WAS BORN, HOW MANY DAYS UNTIL I DIE?
love for the piano men is in the air this spring...
How many days has it been
Since I was born
How many days until I die
Do I know any ways
That I can make you laugh
Or do I only know how to make you cry
When the baby looks around him
It's such a sight to see
He shares a simple secret
With the wise man
He's a stranger in a strange land
Just a stranger in a strange land
Tell me why
He's a stranger in a strange land
Just a stranger in a strange land
How many miles will it take
To see the sun
And how many years until it's done
Kiss my confusion away in the night
Lay by side when the morning comes
And the baby looks around him
And shares his bed of hay
With the burrow in the palace of the king
He's a stranger in a strange land
Tell me why
He's a stranger in a strange land
Just a stranger in a strange land
Well, I don't exactly know
What's going on in the world today
Don't know what there is to say
About the way the people are treating
Each other, not like brothers
Leaders take us far away from ecology
With mythology and astrology
Has got some words to say
About the way we live today
Why can't we learn to love each other
It's time to turn a new face
To the whole world wide human race
Stop the money chase
Lay back, relax
Get back on the human track
Stop racing toward oblivion
Oh, such a sad, sad state we're in
And that's a thing
Do you recognize the bells of truth
When you hear them ring
Won't you stop and listen
To the children sing
Won't you come on and sing it children
He's a stranger in a strange land
Just a stranger in a strange land
How many days has it been
Since I was born
How many days until I die
Do I know any ways
That I can make you laugh
Or do I only know how to make you cry
When the baby looks around him
It's such a sight to see
He shares a simple secret
With the wise man
He's a stranger in a strange land
Just a stranger in a strange land
Tell me why
He's a stranger in a strange land
Just a stranger in a strange land
How many miles will it take
To see the sun
And how many years until it's done
Kiss my confusion away in the night
Lay by side when the morning comes
And the baby looks around him
And shares his bed of hay
With the burrow in the palace of the king
He's a stranger in a strange land
Tell me why
He's a stranger in a strange land
Just a stranger in a strange land
Well, I don't exactly know
What's going on in the world today
Don't know what there is to say
About the way the people are treating
Each other, not like brothers
Leaders take us far away from ecology
With mythology and astrology
Has got some words to say
About the way we live today
Why can't we learn to love each other
It's time to turn a new face
To the whole world wide human race
Stop the money chase
Lay back, relax
Get back on the human track
Stop racing toward oblivion
Oh, such a sad, sad state we're in
And that's a thing
Do you recognize the bells of truth
When you hear them ring
Won't you stop and listen
To the children sing
Won't you come on and sing it children
He's a stranger in a strange land
Just a stranger in a strange land
Monday, April 19, 2010
OPPORTUNITY WAITS ME LIKE A RAT IN THE DRAIN...
I miss my monkey, a lot.
My bad spelling, grammar and taste is stinking up the place. Oh well...
Elton John has told me several times (this week even) that there is a place for a woman like me. I'm apt to believe him, as he seems to have done a pretty good job of finding a place for a woman like him. He has put on a few pounds and lost some hair (well, I guess that was happening pretty early on) and he still leaves his house and plays his pee-yanna for folks, and that's alright.
So what about that then? Leaving the house and playing my pee-yanna-tar? Too much, too much. I don't even know if the things I liked doing are really things I like doing anymore.
I was at my friends show the other night and her fella and I were talking and he said "You're really scared aren't you?" and I said "Yeah." he looked at me with genuine empathy and said "I'm really sorry about that." and gave me a hug. He gave me a hug like my best friend had just died, and as a matter of fact his best friend is dying right now and I hope he's doing okay in light of that...
I guess this blog has become some anonymous means for me to say that I am still here, as this electronic social simulation device satisfies so much more than...um, nothing . I write similar messages to the electronic mail addresses of people I know or have known but I don't think they're who I want to talk to. I haven't written a letter in a while, but the post office has been freaking me out lately. And for some melodramacticsocialanxiety reason I never feel like I have assurance the letter has been sent unless I bring it directly to the post office.
PS - this is a great molasses cookie:
1/4 cup molasses
1 cup brown sugar
1 egg
3/4 cup of melted butter
2 cups of all purpose flour (use white, whole wheat makes it not as delicious)
2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. grnd cinnamon
1/2 tsp. grnd. cloves
Chill dough one hour in fridge, make 'em the size you want and cook @ 375 for 8 - 10 minutes.
BEST STUDY MUSIC
BEST WASHING DISHES MUSIC
actually the entire Kala album is house cleaning genius...
WORST GOING TO BED ALONE SONG
BEST GOING TO BED ALONE SONG
I am circle forming/ I am not complete/I am the fucking pheonix - there is no defeat. - AXIA
My bad spelling, grammar and taste is stinking up the place. Oh well...
Elton John has told me several times (this week even) that there is a place for a woman like me. I'm apt to believe him, as he seems to have done a pretty good job of finding a place for a woman like him. He has put on a few pounds and lost some hair (well, I guess that was happening pretty early on) and he still leaves his house and plays his pee-yanna for folks, and that's alright.
So what about that then? Leaving the house and playing my pee-yanna-tar? Too much, too much. I don't even know if the things I liked doing are really things I like doing anymore.
I was at my friends show the other night and her fella and I were talking and he said "You're really scared aren't you?" and I said "Yeah." he looked at me with genuine empathy and said "I'm really sorry about that." and gave me a hug. He gave me a hug like my best friend had just died, and as a matter of fact his best friend is dying right now and I hope he's doing okay in light of that...
I guess this blog has become some anonymous means for me to say that I am still here, as this electronic social simulation device satisfies so much more than...um, nothing . I write similar messages to the electronic mail addresses of people I know or have known but I don't think they're who I want to talk to. I haven't written a letter in a while, but the post office has been freaking me out lately. And for some melodramacticsocialanxiety reason I never feel like I have assurance the letter has been sent unless I bring it directly to the post office.
PS - this is a great molasses cookie:
1/4 cup molasses
1 cup brown sugar
1 egg
3/4 cup of melted butter
2 cups of all purpose flour (use white, whole wheat makes it not as delicious)
2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. grnd cinnamon
1/2 tsp. grnd. cloves
Chill dough one hour in fridge, make 'em the size you want and cook @ 375 for 8 - 10 minutes.
BEST STUDY MUSIC
BEST WASHING DISHES MUSIC
actually the entire Kala album is house cleaning genius...
WORST GOING TO BED ALONE SONG
BEST GOING TO BED ALONE SONG
I am circle forming/ I am not complete/I am the fucking pheonix - there is no defeat. - AXIA
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
FROM WILCANNA , NSW AUSTRALIA TO ST.JOHN'S NEWFOUNDLAND CANADA (if you take a right instead of a left)
Hello (basically no one)
I have missed each and every two of you...
First things first, do you know what's happening this week??!!! FASHION WEEK, that's what.
Along with reading, cooking, smashing the mentalstate and music this lil' ol rat (for real, real old) likes the fashion. Probably before I liked any of the other stuff really...that is what I thought I would be as a little rat girl - a fashion designer. It was a toss up between that or Big Bird. A rat fashion designer...how very Banksy Johnson of me! I may try to venture out to see what a rat can get up to here during Fashion week - that's highly doubtful though seeing as SCHOOLISKILLINGME, anyways here's some of the things from the other fashion weeks around the world I think are amazing...
MISSONI FALL/WINTER 2010
MAX MARA FALL/WINTER 2010
DSQUARED FALL/WINTER 2010
( Robert Palmer much?? loves it!!)
MY FAVOURITE!!!! P-UH-PUH-PRADA FALL/ WINTER 2010
NEXT THING !!!
Ever heard of Gazeebow Unit??
They are rappers from Newfoundland.
Ever heard of The Wilcannia Mob??
They are rappers from Wilcannia Australia.
I've heard them both and think they are both awesome AND think they sound a lot alike, which is amusing as I'm sure they have no clue who each other are...
SEE YA LATER, POOP BAKER!
I have missed each and every two of you...
First things first, do you know what's happening this week??!!! FASHION WEEK, that's what.
Along with reading, cooking, smashing the mentalstate and music this lil' ol rat (for real, real old) likes the fashion. Probably before I liked any of the other stuff really...that is what I thought I would be as a little rat girl - a fashion designer. It was a toss up between that or Big Bird. A rat fashion designer...how very Banksy Johnson of me! I may try to venture out to see what a rat can get up to here during Fashion week - that's highly doubtful though seeing as SCHOOLISKILLINGME, anyways here's some of the things from the other fashion weeks around the world I think are amazing...
MISSONI FALL/WINTER 2010
MAX MARA FALL/WINTER 2010
DSQUARED FALL/WINTER 2010
( Robert Palmer much?? loves it!!)
MY FAVOURITE!!!! P-UH-PUH-PRADA FALL/ WINTER 2010
NEXT THING !!!
Ever heard of Gazeebow Unit??
They are rappers from Newfoundland.
Ever heard of The Wilcannia Mob??
They are rappers from Wilcannia Australia.
I've heard them both and think they are both awesome AND think they sound a lot alike, which is amusing as I'm sure they have no clue who each other are...
SEE YA LATER, POOP BAKER!
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
CHRISTMAS IS AS CHRISTMAS DOES AND BABY, CHRISTMAS "DOES" E'REBOTTY!!!!!
These are some things I, the rat, made as gifts this year for loved ones. It is really hard to sew with little rat hands, sniff, sniff.We have a DIY letter sweater belonging to someone with the initials RBD, a pretty dress I sort of wanted to keep. The letter sweater was made just by sewing scrap pieces (cut to shape) on to an existing sweater purchased second hand. The dress was a thrift find, I then stitched theses weird paisley designs from a second hand sweater coming out of the pockets and all over the place.
This little boy knows that when you see some goats who have obviously strayed from thier Black Metal ways, you help them out. This is a good Christmas deed.
This lady knows that when you pose for a photo with your Christmas tree in the metro you remember to pop 'yo bling, bitch.
"HAVE A PUNK ROCK XMAS" - I don't know what this means. I think it has something to do with marketing and the seemingly fool proof plan that things sell better with the words "punk rock" attached. We hang this sign every year, it makes me laugh just like punk rock. Oh, but I do have to mention that it came from a pretty bad ass clanander (typo that stays) Nardwaur put out including wicked photos by Bev Davis.Recipe:
Oatmeal Bake
(this is super awesome, I did try to substitute the egg for banana and milk for soya milk, not nearly as delicious)
Ingredients
1 1/2 cups of quick cooking oats
1/2 a cup of brown sugar
1 tsp. of baking powder
1/2 tsp. of salt
1/4 tsp. pf cinnamon
1/4 cup of melted butter
1/2 cup of milk
1 egg
3/4 tsp. of vanilla extract
(3 apples)
Hey! Preheat your oven to 350
And lightly grease (with margerine or butter) a 13" X 9" inch pan, homie!!!Grease yo pan!
Combine all your dry stuffs in a bowl(incl.sugar). Add your melted butter and stir until smooth. Now put that in your pan, it'll be a real thing layer. Then combine your milk, egg and vanilla, mix them up and pour over the contents you've spread in your pan.
Cook at 350 for 25 to 30min.
Every time I've made this I've sliced up 3 apples, skinned and cored and placed them on the bottom of the pan before adding the oats - yummy!
HOPE YOU HAD A PUNK ROCK XMAS.
The part in the story where I wish Solomon Gursky Was (were?) Here...
There's a difference you know, between a crow and a raven. So, when I walk by the murder out front my house (it's a big one too at least 100 if not more) it is my minds habit of labeling circumstance as other worldly symbolism and not Ephraim saying hello.But really that is neither here nor there.
Books this rat decided to read before shredding into nesting materials for the co-morbid, albeit surprisingly optimistic, belfry which serves as her only true nest and home :
LIVER by Will Self
This book is really wonderful. It's a collection of short stories starring one of my very favorite organs, the liver. It's the first book I've ever read by Will Self and he's really freakin' good. I found the "mystery" in the last story a tad condescending but the language and context in which it was delivered made up for it.
THE DEATH OF BUNNY MUNROE by Nick Cave
I read somewhere that Mr.Cave initially intended for this to be a screenplay. He also said that he doesn't think any major movie production company would touch it now, because of it's depraved content. Hopefully, I will get the funds and organizational skills together to prove him wrong someday. I think it would make an amazing feature film, or even a drama series on HBO or something or something, or something...har har.
It's completely linguistically different from and the Ass Saw the Angel, reads much easier and is doable in 2 or 3 nights tops. It's really funny and sad and I imagine if it looked like something it would look like a color photo of a cracked Avril Lavigne cd case in a Brighton gutter adorned with wet pebble stones, used condoms and the carcasses of a half dozen Lambert & Butlers.
WE WILL BE FISH by JP King
Used to be able to get this online by googling it, hard to explain but worth getting your hands on for both the words and images.
I am still gnawing through SOLOMON GURSKY WAS HERE by Mordecai Richler and with every page turn experience emotion equivalent to finding a new lover who's everything you could have ever wanted causing your to ponder how you ever made it without them and how you were so ignorant as to not discover them when they'd be right in front of you all along...
Big beautiful Montreal, that's for you girl. You amaze me every day with your history, elegance, and sloppy sense of superiority. Sometimes you feel like home, but more often it feels as though I am courting you, convincing you to be mine...wooing you to commit...
And the rats story will continue. The adventures of the holiday season coming up (basically in the next two minutes or so) and further adventures on and off the campuses that have become this little rats new external home to follow in the coming days, months, years - will I ever NOT be in school???!!!!....
Saturday, November 28, 2009
More on that, never.
"Omigod! It's sooo amazing to see you again!! No, no...YOU look amazing - this old thing? Just an overall sense of well-being I haven't had the chance to wear anywhere lately..."
It's been more than a hot-minute, a few tepid split shifts lets say. I (Rats) re-located and plan to dazzle you with more dazzling...uh, stuff - from a new locale. Monkey still holds the original M&R HQ down, while myself and my dependents have moved to a place where...
a) the body map featured above
is making more and more sense everyday
b) you can't turn right on a red (and let me tell you - I am implying a multitude of things right there.)
c) YOU can get drunk on bevy's from the corner store
d) everyone is a rock star
e) sandwich meat is real 'spensive
But enough about me...HA HA, YEAH Right! Christmas is right around the corner. Aren't you excited? I am. I really like Christmas. I like snow and I like it when I can hear Bing Crosby on the radio even if it is the same song over and over. I like seeing couples walking in the snow together. I like the smell of alive pine in my house and I also like making gifts....you'll be hearing more about that in the near future.
For now "you stic dat een yer bumpar sticker to smoke it la"
I'm so glad you've taken me back - I will never leave you again, I swore.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
What began with potpourri.
1 Tbsp. cinnamon
7-10 whole cloves
1 tsp. ginger
1 tsp. nutmeg
4 cups water
Put all the ingredients in a small saucepan and simmer on Low heat for 30-60 min. Voila! Your home should smell great. Also a good idea -if you have the essential oil burners (rings) that sit atop a light bulb, you can fill them with this concoction when you run out of oils. Brilliant!
Baking is another way to make your home smell good -especially loaves and muffins. Invest in a breadmaker, it just makes scents. Ha! But seriously, it has saved me at least $45/mo. on bread, baked goods and pasta. Plus, they can make preserves, too.
Speaking of useful kitchen gadgets, a slow-cooker is a poor, working, mothers' best friend next to the television (we've all been there, let's not pretend anyone of us doesn't pay the cable company to babysit every now and then). You throw handfuls of whatever you've got into the cooker and turn it on. By the end of your workday, you've got a hot meal that'll serve 4-8.
Most rice cookers will also steam vegetables... and a food dehydrator can make yogurt...
7-10 whole cloves
1 tsp. ginger
1 tsp. nutmeg
4 cups water
Put all the ingredients in a small saucepan and simmer on Low heat for 30-60 min. Voila! Your home should smell great. Also a good idea -if you have the essential oil burners (rings) that sit atop a light bulb, you can fill them with this concoction when you run out of oils. Brilliant!
Baking is another way to make your home smell good -especially loaves and muffins. Invest in a breadmaker, it just makes scents. Ha! But seriously, it has saved me at least $45/mo. on bread, baked goods and pasta. Plus, they can make preserves, too.
Speaking of useful kitchen gadgets, a slow-cooker is a poor, working, mothers' best friend next to the television (we've all been there, let's not pretend anyone of us doesn't pay the cable company to babysit every now and then). You throw handfuls of whatever you've got into the cooker and turn it on. By the end of your workday, you've got a hot meal that'll serve 4-8.
Most rice cookers will also steam vegetables... and a food dehydrator can make yogurt...
When I was 5 my mom and dad took me downtown for a day of window shopping and local tourism. We would often find ourselves downtown on warm summer days, just for the hell of it. On this particular day, however, we passed a couple of vagrant youth panhandling for change outside of the Much Music building. This couple, a girl and boy in their mid-late teens and dressed to the hilt in punk-rock attire; complete with large, colourful, Knox gelatin chelsea & mohawk, army issue combat boots and studded leather abound, caught my attention and the attention of my father when they asked him if he could spare them some change. I wanted him to give them some money but, my dad, he refused them with visible disgust and contempt. Whilst I was being dragged away from the boy began to follow us, on all fours, barking wildly like a rabid dog -the girl laughing histarically. And then, he cursed us. He said, "It'll be your kid someday" before fading into the horizon with the afternoon sun.
I thought about them for some time after that. I was caught in the grip of the sight of two people who looked like nothing I had ever seen before. And I knew I wanted to dress up in their clothes and try on their looks.
Fast forward:
I am 15. I listen to punk music and dress wierd. My hair is a multitude of colours and lengths. I have been asked to leave my group home and try things out with my parents once again. It doesn't work out and I find myself downtown. On the corner, kids fitting my description are washing car windows for petty cash. I am home.
I have been told that one should not romanticize life on the street; it's no picnic. I have shared living accomodations with murderers, crackheads and junkies, theives, perverts and drug pushers. I have slept in parks, under bridges, on sidewalks and in an assortment of condemned buildings without heat, running water or electricity. I have had to scavenge for food in filthy dumpsters and live off of other peoples generousity and waste -whichever came first. I smoked cigarette butts found on the pavement and dropped acid and PCP to shelter myself against the cold. I lost all sense of time and space and, I'll admit, I enjoyed it. I know that's not what you want to hear. You want to hear how awful it was (and it was pretty awful). You want to hear me say that I regret living my life that way. You want to hear that I was raped, ravaged, used and abused (and I was). You want me to apologize for taking advantage of people's charity and welfare and snorting it up my nose or injecting it into my veins, for wasting away my talents, my academic career, my childhood. I can't do that. I am in love with the idea that what I had to go through has made me a better daughter, sister, mother and lover today. If I didn't romantacize it, I would not have survived it. If I didn't live it, I would not know the meaning of nessecity and invention and honour among thieves. There's always something. I learned that anything can be patched, sewn, fixed and altered with safety pins, duct tape, vaseline, and dental floss. I learned that a single tree branch and a heavy blanket can be shelter enough from a storm and a door to keep the wind and snow out. I learned that a dog is a nomads best friend. I learned how to administer injections and what to do in the event of an overdose. I learned that I am strong, hearty, and capable of anything. I won't go back, and I don't wish anyone to be there, but I won't apologize for having been there, either. I dunno, criticize me all you want but I am in love with the outlet I have found in order to be creatively free and inspired and humbled, truly humbled. I am in love with the notion that I have found a niche somewhere in this great wide universe that enables me to feel comfortable in the knowledge that so long as I surround myself with positive things I can be happy just living my life.
In a way, I believe that my curse was also my blessing, and my best friends are the ones I made in those dark and lonely places.
I thought about them for some time after that. I was caught in the grip of the sight of two people who looked like nothing I had ever seen before. And I knew I wanted to dress up in their clothes and try on their looks.
Fast forward:
I am 15. I listen to punk music and dress wierd. My hair is a multitude of colours and lengths. I have been asked to leave my group home and try things out with my parents once again. It doesn't work out and I find myself downtown. On the corner, kids fitting my description are washing car windows for petty cash. I am home.
I have been told that one should not romanticize life on the street; it's no picnic. I have shared living accomodations with murderers, crackheads and junkies, theives, perverts and drug pushers. I have slept in parks, under bridges, on sidewalks and in an assortment of condemned buildings without heat, running water or electricity. I have had to scavenge for food in filthy dumpsters and live off of other peoples generousity and waste -whichever came first. I smoked cigarette butts found on the pavement and dropped acid and PCP to shelter myself against the cold. I lost all sense of time and space and, I'll admit, I enjoyed it. I know that's not what you want to hear. You want to hear how awful it was (and it was pretty awful). You want to hear me say that I regret living my life that way. You want to hear that I was raped, ravaged, used and abused (and I was). You want me to apologize for taking advantage of people's charity and welfare and snorting it up my nose or injecting it into my veins, for wasting away my talents, my academic career, my childhood. I can't do that. I am in love with the idea that what I had to go through has made me a better daughter, sister, mother and lover today. If I didn't romantacize it, I would not have survived it. If I didn't live it, I would not know the meaning of nessecity and invention and honour among thieves. There's always something. I learned that anything can be patched, sewn, fixed and altered with safety pins, duct tape, vaseline, and dental floss. I learned that a single tree branch and a heavy blanket can be shelter enough from a storm and a door to keep the wind and snow out. I learned that a dog is a nomads best friend. I learned how to administer injections and what to do in the event of an overdose. I learned that I am strong, hearty, and capable of anything. I won't go back, and I don't wish anyone to be there, but I won't apologize for having been there, either. I dunno, criticize me all you want but I am in love with the outlet I have found in order to be creatively free and inspired and humbled, truly humbled. I am in love with the notion that I have found a niche somewhere in this great wide universe that enables me to feel comfortable in the knowledge that so long as I surround myself with positive things I can be happy just living my life.
In a way, I believe that my curse was also my blessing, and my best friends are the ones I made in those dark and lonely places.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Peasant Food & Gypsy Pot
It has been some time since Rats and I abandoned our blog spot and the box spring project. Truth be told the box spring has long ago been returned to the earth, ne'er to be resurrected as a trellis or a book frame. Our blog, on the other hand, is back -at least, from this monkey's perspective, and my first order of business is to post a terrific peasant dish that I have recently stumbled upon.
GYPSY POT is a fantastic meal consisting of common ingredients in uncommon union. Bring 8 cups of chicken stock to a boil, cover and simmer on low heat. In a large stockpot, or Dutch oven, add 2 14-oz. cans chickpeas, rinsed and drained, 2 large carrots, peeled and cut into chunks, 1 butternut squash, peeled and cut into bite-size chunks, 2 slightly under-ripe Anjou pears , peeled, cored and cut into bite-size chunks, salt & pepper to taste, and the hot chicken stock. Bring to a boil; simmer 20 minutes, or until squash and carrots are cooked through. In the meantime, in a skillet, saute 2 Tbsp. garlic, minced, and a handful of almonds (about 1/4 cup) in 3 Tbsp. olive oil. Reserving the leftover oil in the pan, transfer the garlic and almonds to a food processor or blender and blend until smooth. Add to soup. Add 1 large onion, diced, and 1 tsp. sweet paprika to the oil in the skillet and saute until soft. Add 1 14-oz. can diced tomatoes and cook until soft. Add to soup. To finish, add 1 8-oz. package of rice noodles or tofu noodles (shirataki), a pinch of saffron, steeped for 15 minutes in 1/4 cup hot chicken stock, 2 tsp. red wine vinegar. When noodles are hot, season again with salt & pepper to taste, and stir in fresh mint leaves, chopped.
*NUTRITION ESTIMATE, FOR THOSE WHO CARE ABOUT SUCH THINGS
Per Serving: 134 Cal (22% from Fat, 14% from Protein, 64% from Carb); 5 g Protein; 3 g Tot Fat; 0 g Sat Fat; 23 g Carb; 5 g Fiber; NetCarb 18; 54 mg Calcium; 1 mg Iron; 519 mg Sodium; 0 mg Cholesterol
Being that I am increasingly poor, I have developed a fondness for so-called "peasant food" and will continue to post recipes of this nature, pics, and fun food facts for the frugal, as well as the occassional banter. Peace out!
GYPSY POT is a fantastic meal consisting of common ingredients in uncommon union. Bring 8 cups of chicken stock to a boil, cover and simmer on low heat. In a large stockpot, or Dutch oven, add 2 14-oz. cans chickpeas, rinsed and drained, 2 large carrots, peeled and cut into chunks, 1 butternut squash, peeled and cut into bite-size chunks, 2 slightly under-ripe Anjou pears , peeled, cored and cut into bite-size chunks, salt & pepper to taste, and the hot chicken stock. Bring to a boil; simmer 20 minutes, or until squash and carrots are cooked through. In the meantime, in a skillet, saute 2 Tbsp. garlic, minced, and a handful of almonds (about 1/4 cup) in 3 Tbsp. olive oil. Reserving the leftover oil in the pan, transfer the garlic and almonds to a food processor or blender and blend until smooth. Add to soup. Add 1 large onion, diced, and 1 tsp. sweet paprika to the oil in the skillet and saute until soft. Add 1 14-oz. can diced tomatoes and cook until soft. Add to soup. To finish, add 1 8-oz. package of rice noodles or tofu noodles (shirataki), a pinch of saffron, steeped for 15 minutes in 1/4 cup hot chicken stock, 2 tsp. red wine vinegar. When noodles are hot, season again with salt & pepper to taste, and stir in fresh mint leaves, chopped.
*NUTRITION ESTIMATE, FOR THOSE WHO CARE ABOUT SUCH THINGS
Per Serving: 134 Cal (22% from Fat, 14% from Protein, 64% from Carb); 5 g Protein; 3 g Tot Fat; 0 g Sat Fat; 23 g Carb; 5 g Fiber; NetCarb 18; 54 mg Calcium; 1 mg Iron; 519 mg Sodium; 0 mg Cholesterol
Being that I am increasingly poor, I have developed a fondness for so-called "peasant food" and will continue to post recipes of this nature, pics, and fun food facts for the frugal, as well as the occassional banter. Peace out!
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Listening to X and SEETHING....
What the fuck is wrong with you people? Seriously.
See this little rat here, well I have a bit of an unfortunate condition. I love and I love a lot. I am admittedly not the best at displaying some of the behavior people expect to receive from a rat in love, but what would you rather? A rat that will always love you and be there for you, try to do the best by you? Or a rat that will comfort you in really superficial ways and lead you to believe you are not accountable for the pain she incurs by proxy because of all your self-inflicted bullshit?
I know many of you think I am a preachy annoying little rat. I have been rightfully called self-righteous more than once. This missive will probably receive the same evaluation, but I am so furious, frustrated, angry, disappointed, sad and protective right now that I want people to read this and apply it to specifically my current/potential friendship or acquaintance with them .
I want to make a request and I hope all who read this can get something out of it. Could anyone whom I interact with do me a favor?
If you like many people have an inclination to make really irresponsible and irrational decisions just to maybe spice up your life with some super spicy drama, stop fucking doing that. Don't you see the havoc it creates in the lives around you? How can you exact a massacre and then request that victims of said massacre help you cope with the emotional and mental chaos you are suffering because you were an irresponsible douche? Do you not see how absurd and destructive that is?
This rat has a lot of baggage. Like a fucking lot. Do you ever see people transporting crab shells or produce on those little vespas in the Carribean? You can't even see the person maning the vehicle because there's this 5' by 5' foot mass orbiting them? Well, that is the visual representation of the baggage I carry around. Guess what? I can't hide it, not one bit - it's all around me hanging out all over the place. If I spend the time to get to know you you'll see it in the first few moments, that massive battered string of emotional fuck clanking and clamouring around me. Maybe it's because I can't standto be in a room with you and 3 other people for more than 20 mins, maybe it's because I told you what I was "really thinking", maybe it's becuase you've known me for more than oh, lets say a month but you'll see it there plain as uglymorningafteronenightstand day.
You can see that on me, and yeah like does attract like. This rat is doing her best to lock herself away from the public so as not to meet new ones. Maybe even get to where I can maintain the amount of like it has attracted to a managable number. But Christ on a crutch, if your whole schtik is drama after heartache, after overdose, after fight, after DRAAAAAMMMMA - just please, go away. You are right this rats life was once that but that was a long time ago. Every once and awhile I make a boneheaded move too. But that's not the mainstay of my life, trauma is no longer how the timeline of my life is marked. I aim to keep it that way...
Please, if you want me to love you. If you want to reap the benefits of my little rat freindship? Knock all that shit off. Jesus, just do it for yourself.
And if you can't, then just go away. Harsh, yes. Are you reading this going is she talking about me? I'm not even gonna lie - maybe I am. I wouldn't be putting this into a public forum if it was directed at one person only, right? But shouldn't YOU know that? I mean if your life is as above described then this little request for reprieve from exposure to that shitshow can't be your biggest problem.
I guess that's about it, oh and I can't wait to see you again!!! I've got the newest, juiciest gossip - you'll just never believe who diedliedcriedstarvedshotupsmokedcrackcheatedstolebeatdownbeatupsworegotsickgotcleanlostthierkidlostthierdogeatadick......XOXOXO... BARF.
Edit: I am also no longer on my medication.
See this little rat here, well I have a bit of an unfortunate condition. I love and I love a lot. I am admittedly not the best at displaying some of the behavior people expect to receive from a rat in love, but what would you rather? A rat that will always love you and be there for you, try to do the best by you? Or a rat that will comfort you in really superficial ways and lead you to believe you are not accountable for the pain she incurs by proxy because of all your self-inflicted bullshit?
I know many of you think I am a preachy annoying little rat. I have been rightfully called self-righteous more than once. This missive will probably receive the same evaluation, but I am so furious, frustrated, angry, disappointed, sad and protective right now that I want people to read this and apply it to specifically my current/potential friendship or acquaintance with them .
I want to make a request and I hope all who read this can get something out of it. Could anyone whom I interact with do me a favor?
If you like many people have an inclination to make really irresponsible and irrational decisions just to maybe spice up your life with some super spicy drama, stop fucking doing that. Don't you see the havoc it creates in the lives around you? How can you exact a massacre and then request that victims of said massacre help you cope with the emotional and mental chaos you are suffering because you were an irresponsible douche? Do you not see how absurd and destructive that is?
This rat has a lot of baggage. Like a fucking lot. Do you ever see people transporting crab shells or produce on those little vespas in the Carribean? You can't even see the person maning the vehicle because there's this 5' by 5' foot mass orbiting them? Well, that is the visual representation of the baggage I carry around. Guess what? I can't hide it, not one bit - it's all around me hanging out all over the place. If I spend the time to get to know you you'll see it in the first few moments, that massive battered string of emotional fuck clanking and clamouring around me. Maybe it's because I can't standto be in a room with you and 3 other people for more than 20 mins, maybe it's because I told you what I was "really thinking", maybe it's becuase you've known me for more than oh, lets say a month but you'll see it there plain as uglymorningafteronenightstand day.
You can see that on me, and yeah like does attract like. This rat is doing her best to lock herself away from the public so as not to meet new ones. Maybe even get to where I can maintain the amount of like it has attracted to a managable number. But Christ on a crutch, if your whole schtik is drama after heartache, after overdose, after fight, after DRAAAAAMMMMA - just please, go away. You are right this rats life was once that but that was a long time ago. Every once and awhile I make a boneheaded move too. But that's not the mainstay of my life, trauma is no longer how the timeline of my life is marked. I aim to keep it that way...
Please, if you want me to love you. If you want to reap the benefits of my little rat freindship? Knock all that shit off. Jesus, just do it for yourself.
And if you can't, then just go away. Harsh, yes. Are you reading this going is she talking about me? I'm not even gonna lie - maybe I am. I wouldn't be putting this into a public forum if it was directed at one person only, right? But shouldn't YOU know that? I mean if your life is as above described then this little request for reprieve from exposure to that shitshow can't be your biggest problem.
I guess that's about it, oh and I can't wait to see you again!!! I've got the newest, juiciest gossip - you'll just never believe who diedliedcriedstarvedshotupsmokedcrackcheatedstolebeatdownbeatupsworegotsickgotcleanlostthierkidlostthierdogeatadick......XOXOXO... BARF.
Edit: I am also no longer on my medication.
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