last night this entry was written in two seperate parts. sorry if it's a little choppy. i'm going to paste it and then i'm off to the 'summer house'. why does that name make me feel like a queen?:

candice once told me she used to call her crotch a muffin when she was little. she also asked her brother to go out with me. i spit on her one day because i wanted her to fight me, but she wouldn't. why when i'm thinking about people i haven't thought of in the longest time, it's thoughts like these that are on the tumble cycle out?

when i remember victoria and elizabeth the main thing i think back to was running after them, trying to beat one of them up in the park. and i didn't want to do it but i felt like i had to because that's what the other kids expected of me, since i was the schoolyard bully. i tried to make it into a good show because i didn't really want to hurt her. i saw how scared she looked trying to get away from me and i burst into tears. kids are fucking whacked but at least their innocence provides excuse. it makes me wonder what kind of children rapists, and abusers, and child pornographers were. what kind of child was i?

shouting-out to lucy makes me realize i haven't done this in a while. yo, lucy, what up foo-l? don't let keri yank your chain, eh? she's pretty fucking cool most of the time. shit - kinda like you (grin.) aw - me whines - when are we gonna smoke some more reefer together? i was engrossed in picking seashells off the shore today, and my brother was bored outta his mind and getting pissed at me. made me think of that time with you... me picking up all those pussywillows... willow was a good movie. it reminds me of labrynth (sp?) and that reminds me of fraggle rock and the fraggles remind me of you because you fucking rock.

[i'm in a really really good mood today. i get more and more giddy off the fumes.]

felix! yo, felix... what happened with the girl in calgary? hope it worked out okay. felix you're wise like some old shriveled up guru, all except for the shriveled up part. felix, how is it that you're so wise? i think everybody can tell by now, felix, that i like your name. thanks for flying a kite and drinking freshly squeezed juice with me. thanks for introducing me to F.N.B.'s. playing cards with you was fun, although you really should stop teaching people how to play go-fish. for future reference: you could probably name ANY punk band and dear, nine times outta ten i'm not going to have heard of them. i'll go hold my bob dylan and joni mitchell records now and ask their folk forgivness for talking with a straight-edge punker like you. [laughs.]

kyle, aw kid i still miss you. i hear about you sometimes, which is funny in a weird deja-vu sort of way. janelle says she's seen you on the bus and in some of the raver clubs. i don't frequent that scene very often but on the odd chance i'm in one of your 'area's' i always look for you. i still have some notes you wrote for me in grade ten, mainly the ones you wrote to me on shrooms. you were in eleven i think? you laughed at my jokes. you left without saying goodbye.

janelle you're a fucking loon. why did you let me convince you that spray painting candice's fence was a good idea? why did we dress all in black and make up some huge elaborate plan like we were elite bank robber's or something? i was hanging around kristi too much at that time. i even still had that gun i believe. do you remember walking to school in the rain? i jumped in that puddle and for a second i thought you weren't going to follow and then you did and i loved you all the more for it.

shelly, you have such a big heart i'm glad i don't have the chance to hang out with you all the time because i would most likely drown in your candy coated center. i thought you were a bitch in junior highschool. i think i might have even been terrified of you. but now i'm your honeypot - which sounds kinda sexual now that i think about it. which reminds me that you also like to look at a fair sized amount of porn, and even though you don't share your porn with me, that's okay because i love you anyways.

keri. you smoked crack with me. you gave me cocaine and sent me to the store to get more money for drugs at which point i hid behind a tree because a paper bag was blowing in the wind and it was scaring me. a 5min trip took half and hour. i guess that means i wasted 25 minutes on you. how much time is that in dog years? you're fun and i love you because you give me an excuse to do shit i shouldn't be doing and somehow i always feel richer for the experience.

[i could do this all day.]

i got threatened with flying dogs on a roof in edmonton. i don't think brian really wanted to go up on the roof but i think he saw that i really did and so he went anyways. we dropped our booze halfway up and the bottle shattered on the street. then some fuckers across the street called the cops on us. they came with their flash lights and checked our names over their little system and when we got the okay to go one of them warned us not to climb onto anymore buildings that night. (which i don't fucking get. i mean we just about got arrested. we just about got charged which makes life a whole lot pissier if you include court days and such and you think i'm going to go right out and fucking climb on some more bulidings? okay officer, shit why don't i start with the one you're standing next to, that way when you come to cart me off to jail at least i've made it easier for your stupid lazy ass. "aw, cops are people too." "shutup ho.") and now, when i tell the story i'm like "yah, and then like SEVEN cop cars showed up" and really it was more like two but we all know a number like seven just sounds better. heh. i got me a story. i'll add it to the collection, like hammering nails into a steel wall.

someone's missing. he should know he was left out on purpose because sometimes i don't like sharing. he drove me around edmonton one night with the windows down.

as a side note. oddly enough almost all of my people have smoked reefer with me. all my main friends are potheads and if they're not i eventually convert them over to my - um - rasta religion. drugs are bad. (said in fake chinese accent) k-a-r-a-t-e c-h-o-p.

now i think i'll go smoke some hashish down by the sea.