lb got married. Congratulations, lb. Even bigger congratulations to Al who has convinced one of the world's most pure and perfect people to marry him.

YOU SAVE MONEY

at our

DRUG STORE

Let's see. How did the week begin? Me and Ivy and Beano had a little breakfast, and then we off to the airport and bid farewell fairly well at the terminal entrance. Through security, a breeze. And open Maps.app to see the journey from the airport to the shroom dispensary. There's the oldest one in Canada, so probably there.

NO

DANCING ON THE TABLES

And on the plane they let us in the emergency row know... with a level of sweetcute calm i think an unbefitting vehicle for the nature of the information, "the window'll fall in towards you and you can just throw it on out and climb out after it".

So we went up above the mountains and i listened to Geechi's third against Ave because i was in the mood to cry. Have you ever listened to that? It's good to find out if you're stone. Good heavens, clouds above the mountains.

Money is not Everything.
There's Mastercard & Visa.

Fear and Loathing in British Colombia

Though i did enjoy when that old guy was walking down the street with his wee earbuds in, scatting along. And i did enjoy when that troubled young man in the middle of the street shouted "shut up, shut up! you're being reduntant. And redun-dan-cy's no Fun-For-Me🎶" at nobody at all. And I did enjoy that extremely wiggly girl in Canada's First Shroom Dispensary. Ermine from the neck down.

And maybe it's me. Something missing? Pure exhaustion. Maybe I'll feel different after a night's rest. Maybe it'll be like Pokémon Hospital and i'll curl into my ball and it'll say "doot!doot!doodle-dee🎶" and i'll wriggle back and forth and wake ready to fight another day. But, right this moment? It feels like the facade itself. Like Neom or the Line. Surrounded by ghouls. Too clean in the wrong way, dirty in the wrong way too. I feel as though I'm standing inside Claude. I've entered the simulacra. That being said, the dispensary girl was extraordinarily slinkity, and knowledgable about mushrooms and in possession of a cursive middle. Maybe i'm missing something. There are wigglesome stoatesque shroom deities here. Maybe i'm missing something. Something else must account for the pure lack.

You don't have to be crazy to work here...
WE'LL TRAIN YOU!!!

Dreadful time trying to check into the hotel. They told me to telephone a URL. Couldn't take my card because it wasn't Canadian. I went back to the airport. Trapped. Got a hotel in Richmond. Slipped & tripped and hurt my little knees.

In the morning, hotel breakfast reminds me of abandoning someone in a moment of need, in some darkest moment. The news is on. Headline "17-year-old says his brand new camera stolen at Canada's Wonderland". Not a murder in the whole country, maybe. I'm on the opposite coast, a world away. Oh, Canada's Wonderland though... what a good idea.

At the end of the day i'm just a heffalump looking for my woozle. I wrote "big peeping through slats town" down in my notebook with a pencil, after the second sighting. One across the road from McDonald's Main Street. The other outside the first third wave. Shortly after writing it, I walked around the corner to where there was a building site with boardings that had built-in peeping slats with text all around inviting people to come and peep.

Met up with Brooklyn. Had a coffee, and a walk, quite lovely. Then went to stay in a little house by Trout Lake called Trout House. There was a very pretty cat, who appeared to be my hostess. She was very calm and friendly.

hi there, you will find your keys hidden under the cat

Every time I walk into a restaurant or a shop, everyone turns and looks at me like I've interupted them in the middle of a conversation. There was a nice group in the gay park who were paying the correct amount of attention to dogs. But nothing has dispelled the sense of alienation. I am without within this town. What's going on here? What flavour is it?

i was on the Granville Street Pedestrian Zone when it clicked. They had a little 4 square metre area of "public disco". I'm staring at the faces of the people within its bounding box. I know this facial expression, I know this emotion, what is it? Oh, yeah. yah. That is the face of somebody trying to have the appropriate amount of fun. They know they're meant to be having fun. But they aren't yet. They're trying to force it. But without going overboard into an inappropriate amount of fun. Next to it there was a piece of wall, just a bit of wall in the middle of street signposted "graffiti wall" and you could take a spray can on a string and spray on it.

This whole fucking city feels like a work social.

i got a little cherry tattoo on my left wrist outer. Might have to start smoking cigarettes again. taco bell and a cherry tattoo in the granville street pedestrian zone. An immaculately dressed older lady came up to me in the train station and told me she loved my outfit. She was wearing a black and white patterned blouse, white pants, white shoes and had bright red round frames. Goddess. I raided a Shopper's Drug Mart for every one of its Maybelline Cherry Lips Baby Me.

what about a "chamber"?

Tronto is what i would call a pet animal that had a little round body and a big head with a nose like a parsnip

take to the water the light from the sun

On Wednesday Mike took me and Boris out on a boat to an island called Galiano where Avi has a solar powered catamaran coastal cruiser. I had a Michelada. Had a lot of questions and some statements. But, that would have broached Forbidden Subject #2 (and occasionally #1), a breach i couldn't do.

There was a little seal after all. I told him about Lily using psychic tweets. He bobbed his little head. Perhaps they've met off Shetland. Afterwards we* went to a shell beach and ate some fancy spaghetti flavoured potato chips and looked at a red tree with a different name a little further down the coast.

*(Mike, Boris, me - not me & seal)

The boat trip home my phone died and i was up the front being shaken violent from side to side and top to bottom, crash and splash of the ocean against my face and going through it all - think a little about that little thing - and all of it, that were oil pastel slime scrawl over everything - grey glue i'm looking through, living through - armour steel chamber layer holding me still without any kinds of feelings - living a few minutes (hours, days, weeks) before and after the moment that i'm really in at once. sun-kissed and shaken loose, i cried my little eyes out. bawling, salt splash crashing onto boat & body. think of it: what it means, what it means means. it’s gonna be like that and be like that unless you ruin everything and what would you gain? from here the city looks like little cows standing in a field together. and i look like a strawberry now. and when we got to the dock someone had parked in mike's spot. he pushed the enemy boat out into the water and i winched it back up into its own home next door. a full body work out, and the soul, and a motion i associate with opening river locks or something being wringed right through a clothes mangle.

Saw a kingfisher.

Mike let me stay in his guest suite after dinner, which was very kind and probably saved me $250.

and i look like a strawberry now.

plane spoken

Aug 20, 2026 at 3:36 PM EDT | 24°C Clear | Calgary International Airport, Calgary AB

Back in Calgary for an hour. Picked up a magazine about doggies and a coffee. Onto the next plane, there was a baby beside me and in front of me. Everybody was excited to see the babies. It was very sweet, babies being passed around to strangers to bounce on the lap and say hello baby. Everybody on the plane is pretty and cute and smiley.

And then here we are in French Canada. Not such to say. Met elliot.website for coffee and was given a gift of a drawing of an ermine which was very sweet and i had a very nice time. i hope elliot.website did too. bought some beaver socks with maple leafs on em.

Then in the evening there was a party at lb's house with her and al's family and all of their lovely beautiful friends of whom i am already extremely fond. I was assigned a task, which i was glad of. To put on records when the records ended. I went with Neil Young's On The Beach, a Vashti Bunyan record and Nilsson Schmilsson. Sweet Erin drove me around the whole of Quebec to find some all-dressed Ruffles. There was a queue in the last open gas station in the province. Everyone was silent, holding strange things.

the wedding

And the next day was the wedding. A beautiful ceremony in a beautiful place with beautiful people. I cried a lot at the love, there was so much love. An abundance. It was so nice to see this person (a person who knows me better, probably, than any other person on earth. 12+ years of hearing more about what exactly was going on w/ me than anyone else), it was so nice to see her surrounded by so much love. Almost as much as she deserves. An asymptote. The speeches were great. All of them. Al's mother Gene in particular gave forth something beautiful. But, all of them. And i thought about some of the things i'd thought about on the boat, and reached different conclusions and cried different about them than on the boat. And on the bus on the way home i closed my eyes and found some other feelings shifting around inside my body.

In the morning, before the wedding, the man working the desk had called me “Mr Rabbits” which i did not like one bit and i wished to leave the country. But then the bus driver called me Mademoiselle and now i will consider moving to Quebec. I sat down on the bus and listened to the older family members talk through about storms and the Nickel City Cheese just a few kilometers up the road that makes all these cheese curds round here. The other cheese factory closed. It had the best curds. Once you go down south they’re like fake cheese curds down there, don’t have the squeak. It’s so nice to listen to them talking about storms, cheese curds and ginger ale. The white cream soda is too hard to find. Stewart’s cream soda is the one to get, the white one. And their root beer.

And during the wedding for a while i sat outside listening to the sounds. A little anxious, a little sad. The moon moves so fast here.

today

15	🛫🏩

16	🐯🫛🦓🧀🍃🏩

17	✈️🏩

18	🍄🍏🌊🐈‍⬛🏡

19	🚤⚓🏖️🌞🐚🏡

20	✈️🚕🏩

21	🏩☕☭👯‍♀️🐿️

22	👰‍♀️🏩🥰

23	🏩

	📍 YOU ARE HERE 📍

24	🚘! 🚌? 🏩?

25	🚍? 👑?🎢?

26	🎢???

27	🚍🏠??

28	🚍🐦⚾🧢(🏩?)

29	🏩???

30	🛫🛬 London :S 🪰

31	¿🏙️☕M:)? 

01	oh no

02	i don't want to do this

03	might be nice

04	oh no, i don't want to do this

05 🪵🐛🐈?

It's Sunday today. We're at about the halfway point. It's good that it was today. An overwhelming sense of relief. And a little grief. But the grief is gentle - slow release. Most's relief. And it feels as though there's somebody inside me perfectly folding sheets. I'm so at peace. Standing, looking out over the river, and I'm tingling on the lock. It almost stings, and starts to rain. Let's go and find some eggs and coffee and write. A couple hours before, I'm in a Korean shop in the mall looking at a wall of ear rings and bracelets. And I feel the sudden punch of it, and my thoughts shift to that little thing. But, oh, but... oh..! In the body, then the mind. That reminds me: anxiety and hangovers. And next door i'm in the Swatch store, bracelet watch like little candy niblets, little pez. There it is again. You know, but... it's in the body. That would seem like a done deal, except...

Maybe I've just got an overabundance of that overwhelming feeling of pure love as a natural fact of life, and some subconscious process is trying to rationalize it by attaching it to people. Like how anxiety does with memories of last night. If that’s the case then maybe i can separate them, that's worked with anxiety in the past. Let it live where it is in the body, and i'll go hang out somewhere else until it's done. But maybe in this case i want to stay right where it is but let it shiver everywhere and bloom instead of turning the nozzle and cutting off all the holes and getting one hard stream blasting against a single spot at a pressure nobody involved wants at all. Exploring the Top Five Spray Pattern Types; How To Detect Nozzle Wear. And it was fast after this, because i have some of the tools from a similar job before. And the tingling: i can feel the water rushing in the river, and the people around me and i could jump up on the lock and smell the rain coming, feel the rain coming, and see the sky about to rain.

if you're a chee rabbits fan you aren't a fan of me, you're a fan of yourself

it's scrappy, all of it, because it should seem easy

oh but i can't write this right now, i'm all out of phase

but - wow, there are zero thoughts at all - there was meant to be a bit there that's a.. it needs, that kind of, when it gets reweaved...

i've been completely taken out by a salt and vinegar crisp

it's so unbelievable to me, every time, before interfacing directly with a salt & vinegar crisp, that it could break a whole day

but then, crunched up with that, why more?

and then a lattice?

and then to carry on, you are inside the sound of a gun reloading in the coop?

waving.

so soon, one slice of romaine like that fat tapir sleeping.

the start of the week was nervewracked. but, there's a rule for the fortnight that means there's no way to dip into that stuff. then i packed my bags and got on the plane. the secret to life is to keep yourself about 2013 kanye without teetering over into 2023 kanye. so i'm going to start randomly shouting walt disney at the end of sentences.

used to hit the kitchen light, weird mice everywhere

now i hit the kitchen light, weird flies everywhere

i feel like, Jeezy, you might've made it. but i have all these little flies. weird ones. i went for lunch ice cream at a company's office and picked up a little spoon with nikhar. and slept quite poorly trying to give myself jet lag before i get onto the plane. and does anybody know what the inverted king of swords really means?

i've been making a little native rich text application for the mac and ios to take notes in for my trip. it syncs with automerge, and runs patchwork tools too. i made a change to it just before i left that drains the battery pretty bad on the phone. i guess i'll deal with that in September.

the zoo was so nice with the little bean and a butterfly went on me and we saw some red pandas and they were nice. and afterwards we went to the roasterie. i've been trying to write but i can't be careful inside my mind because i'm all fuzzed out. there was a hound on the Lizard on the way to Heathrow who looked just like razzmatazz who licked my tears on the couch when sían died. and i was early for the flight. and i got a tattoo after the zoo. and i brought astrid a rabbit from harrods. and downloaded some lux, rum, jaz, solomon. got pretty mousesick on the plane, it's a long flight. but then we landed and there were purple flowers, maybe thistles, fighting yellow flowers on the hill. they're strangled round each other, maybe kissing. and then at the roasterie that gentleman with the line on how life and light are linked "inextricibly" and the dna helix ends with telemirrors that pulse 100,000 times a second, that forests have the most "coherent light" and there's "a burst of light and then there's a corpse". it was unfortunate, the turn towards Churchill, white replacement, satanic pedophiles and fauci. and then that jesus loves me, "we're inside each others heart coils" which emanate "12ft square or infinite" and when you "speak your lifebreath into a word that's a three dimensional container for electromagnetic packages"

and so a wander through somebody else's memories, and they're the shape of memories. that's like a rollercoaster or a picturebook, or bitter food or mythology. i mean, "what's this little brass monkey, is he a samovar" and is this with an f or a ph? it's almost inevitable, but... the coffee won't work. merecat on the inside and fat tapir on the out. i really havent slowed down in well over a year, i've forgotten how to connect with when the wind pushes leaves or the rain falls. it's like that goo, nothing's ever the only thing on my mind. the last moment i can remember was the taxi after the train. looking into the dark, looking into the rain. "that's as far from me as i am from it", that old brick, but we were born in different centuries. i felt at peace, like this is perfect. but then it ramped up again, didn't it? and up and up and up. expectations every day, the pulling.

sorry

for this so long and lacking. we've been to the zoo. there was a red panda. i am extremely tired. i'm getting on a plane again tomorrow. there's been thunder, there's been flashing lights. we all hid out in the safeway entrance, me and everyone in calgary. until bicycle man came in with the scaring-the-hoes energy asking if we were all waiting the bus. seemed innocent enough, but it cleared everyone out in a rush. and i'm getting on a plane again tomorrow. to Vancouver this time. it was so nice to see Ivy and Beano.

"Get the ick" sounds like something went inside, but in those moments it feels like something went out. Fell out of me, belly dropped, soul fell out of me.

dog biscuits

you’re not eating the dog biscuits are you?

awww yuck... i mean, the boneos are alright. but not them shiny ones they have here

They talked for a while about the best dog treats

i used to eat the charcoal ones

my dog'd look at me like i had nine heads but

well he wouldn’t eat them…

so i'd eat them

rats don’t taste too bad… but rat piss?

(That's a big red man with a bald head)

you wouldn’t want to upset that newfoundland.
you got a lab, or a retriever?

a shot of rum please

• a splash of coke
• a little more
• a little more

Twinkish guy, with a tough energy like he’s tired of living

Keeps asking for a little splash more until she's got a cuba libre for him

there’s a rumor that there’s gonna be hairdresser here.

but it’s not true. it’s a fierce rumour.

there’s gonna be a pool room here.

and then

i find myself in Eataly yet again. Fascinated by this place. It has so many restaurants, and cafes, and a school. Where am i? A kind of designer department store for spaghetti and cured meats. They have their own cola. And then i happened upon that skinny escalator elsewhere and through the dark tunnel and the sign "Follow the stairs to ███████" duct tape over the wordless horror of where we would end up, and then at the end of threatening building site escher forms and turns a garden? A little garden, and everybody is having little drinks and there that young man is holding that young woman by the jowls and locking forever in her eyes* and the sign says "Eataly Ice Cream" and am i still here? In this place? It's everywhere?

*i know some forget-me-nots. i've forgotten lots. and then with absolutely zero prior notice: i forgot my oath, the magnum opus (silent focus);. transiens dissocians (like the migratory locust) onto solitaire and then we're lying on the grass, like after malaga, "ay, ¡que simpatica!", looking at the flowers growing (myosotis sylvatica). and how they are against the rhodochrosite, against the silver in the dusty charcoal. sounding out the vowels, open sesame, a little cube with false impressions there to make you feel better.

And May and i, we went for dinner in the place upstairs from my apartment. It's good having dinner there, because whenever we've agreed to meet I get off my chair.

hair event

And the next day i cut off all my hair. Sally did. i watched. i enjoyed her thoroughly, an absolute treasure. and she knows agnes. we had in-jokes by the end of the short journey we took to my new hair. i may have gone too short and boy'd myself and the only solution might be to make some of it even shorter on the sides just for contrast.

and then i went to an event where the software felt like white feminism but it was nice to see Marie. my social battery 🪫 and i should not have gone, but it was nice to see Marie. anyway it all seems cozy nice but too cathedral and not like love. spoiled by FoC where mean girl energy dissipates on contact with the air.

other notes

i can see around your mouth you used to be like that all the time. Your eyes have all that stormy in them and you're fighting with her now. i hope that you can learn to love her and forgive her, she deserves it and she's worth it. Some day she'll give way to you; some day she'll be you. You're fighting with her, and i get it. i mean, she seems like a proper little prick. But she's clearly very loveable and needs a little patience. i bet it pissed her right off that she's so loveable, the poor thing, just look at her.

this time next week

next sunday i will be writing after the zoo where i will go with beano. ivy and me and beano are going to the zoo. and then i'll go vancouver, maybe take a boat to a cove? and then to gatineau to ring bell and see wed my friend. and then to montreal, where i will see some other things. and then to kingston to a new friend. and then toronto to an old friend. and to play a show at the rivoli.

On Friday evening there was a girl outside my window crying. And then she started to sing. The people in the street started cheering and clapping, and then everyone began to scream.

But, yes, i'm nervous. i could have had a baby by now. Every day, when i wake up. every night, before i sleep. and 🗣️ in 🙊 on 🎭 in 🗺️. . But it's been helpful having time to learn.

The lads are out today. Hollering and shouting. Dropping bottles, screaming. i love it here, it's unhinged. They were a little scary, the boys.

i'm so honoured that you thought of me when there was something beautiful and ineffable about a mechanical night beast.

jersey

has to be xxxx AND meaningful. can’t be either, must be both.

i bought a bottle, another one. i think i was just so surprised. and there it was up there in Superdrug on the shelf behind the counter, where i knew it was. top shelf, leftmost. i knew it was there, but then "oh look there it is," i tricked myself. 4 eyeliner pencils and the wavy girl.

anyway.

i'll dump it on everything before i leave, like kate moss did for the united states. like treasa did for parkas that would be left in the back of a taxi. taxi sped off before i got in, (bitter about it, but on reflection probably the driver said so) and that nice couple brings you in and sits you at their old hard wood table that must be older than their marriage. and they telephone your family, and the parka's never seen again. of course, you get a new one. Fred Perry, years later. you can tell by the look on Chuck's face that she isn't impressed. and that big fluffy hood that zipped right off. it could fit three of me now. was the blue bag in there too? and the bmo wallet in the outermost pocket. and not for the last time, an act like that. a purchase from fred perry "you disgust me" and then walk into the pond.

i never really understood it: the staring, the hollering, the hooting. but now i guess i see that certain shapes are like a piece of music. played well, played live, spontaneous. bones, i mean. silver in dusty charcoal. lying on the grass looking up at the sunflowers growing. how they are against the sky. it's real money, thousands in today's, and it'd be a wealthy titled lady wearing furs like that. not to mention the fentanyl. α-sentimentanyl. rhodochrosite, raspberry ripple, "an extraordinary mineral here to help you let go and release anguish, pain, and trauma weighing on your mind and heart". you could get taken apart, you could even take part!

yes. all mad. all sickness, hormones, dietary. indiana jones with the endocrine system, and the distribution of vitamins. and "i'm so sick of being strong, keeping on and keeping on" and nothing in this world makes you feel like that.

there's a thought i had yesterday that made me bawl with tears, and i have another one for oxytocin. it's safer to. in a way they're the same. like the speckled limestone is the violin. the way it plays with your brain. you could say that they... it could maybe explain... well if they ever make a medicine for the state of you i'll take it too. i'm bathed in sunshine: blood red, ice cold, dusky days. and there's no need, always, for all of it. i can zip right up, shut up, buckle up, giddy up.

but you, you little pint of collagen water shaken smooth in a metal bottle, you could accept your inconsistency. i mean, you can stop trying to know everything (or anything) about yourself. it's okay, that's what i'm trying to say.

life is long, it'll be here when you get back. you can let go. and, i hope i'm not speaking out of turn to say that you are spectacular and deserve to feel like they're so fucking lucky sometimes. all the time, really.

it’s kara’s birthday. happy birthday kara.

and: hello again, little one.

you know, you gotta learn to judge your own work the way you do other people’s. getting feedback is important, that’s part of it: true. but you gotta learn to sharpen your eye against your heart because that’s what your voice is.

yeah, you know. read it through, check where the feelings are. fix em up. nothing you don’t already know.

this weekend has been very zero. but before that, the start of the week, i missed my aeroplane. i ended up for a lil time still in berlin all by myself. it was nice. i got home sick. miss my girlies, miss my little life. but then i found myself at the gate. dimples at the gate. not this time, but thank you. and once again a metal tube, and once again a smaller tube capable of slow teleportation. “coffee? rarely. a cup every two to three weeks”. you remind me of someone. everything does.

and i’m smelling quite fascinating, and seemingly an article of interest worthy of inspection. pale, pink, crinkle cut. “semi-skimmed??? yeah! two semi-skimmed!! both of them!!!”. yes, yes. silent Y. every single little detail.it’s all [tktktk] right in (scratched but with intent, engraved? there’s a word with a pointed metal object looks like a mouse nose… it’s like that in my bones. like they’re signed or awarded to the top player.) and inside my chest, in the blood, the colour all diffuse like espresso over ice into milk (like marble) dark and stormy. and you’re like that. you have weather. sunny, stormy. and you warned me “sunny, stormy”. turbulence. the pool around the heart. suspended, kind of, (heart). everything is still except the “clonk clonk” machinery, the pipes, it’s like a ghibli. pictures and music. moving pictures. lights and cameras. danger, achtung, rumbling little wheels along the floor. roll zero, zero yaw, platform pitch and pierce aurora landing with an hour made up in air. and there’s nothing left to give! they’d know exactly who they aren’t, that’s not something i can do! and i can’t give up on myself, and i can’t let go of goo. i don’t think i’ve ever been home sick before. not that i can recall ever in my life. and i was so excited, in the airport, to be getting on a plane towards Heathrow.

and i got home and a dream where i was ███████ at ████‘s ███████ and i looked out the window down into the car and we ████ ███ ███████. i should have said something, but it was always the wrong time until it was too late. of course, Gil didn’t like watching the women’s tennis because of the sounds they make. and there’s the easyhotel old street, i stayed here after the breakup. all night drunk talking to nick, listening to cumbia. (peruvian.)

lmao remember that time sid called miss coulter a dozy cunt and got sent to the principal, and as he was leaving under protest he said it’s not even a fucking swear. nextistential fight or flightless birdy tap the window come on in your cracked up legs i know what’s next my box your nest you rest and nestle convalesce in darkness later acquiesce the window’s open i accept one day it’s empty no protest. from me, i mean. the window’s open. 2am. a spot right here. forgive the mess. barely had a moment, either coming in or going. but at 8am on monday, 5pm on tuesday, something happened beneath my bed and i’m not straight now (horizontal) je serais ton corneille

and this weekend has been very zero. at 7pm yesterday i finally left my bed after laying in one spot deathly hungry for a day. a couple came up to me outside spitalfields, told me that they warm to my energy, that i am a unicorn, that i’m sitting by myself on the wrong side of town. i got misgendered a lot and then i went home. it’s harrowing; we’re breaking up. that’s a soil joke. that’s a weather and gardening reference. then new things grow but the ecosystem is destroyed, think of all the worm holes. it’s a last resort. try planting a big long white radish first. today it’s Sunday, my big ambitions reach as far as Superdrug to buy the wavy hair conditioner (smells like passionfruit and coconuts) and maybe redye my hair and maybe i’ll veet my body til it’s dolphins, and repair my biome. need a week where i eat only what rabbits eat like lettuce, carrots, water, beets — sorry, thinking out loud.

oh i’m going to canada next month. like this:

🛫 -> calgary 🏩
🐯🫛 🦓 🧀 🍃 🏩
✈️ -> vancouver 🏩
🚣? 🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰?
🚣? 🏩
✈️ -> ottowa 🚍 -> gatineau 🏩
🏩 + 👯‍♀️
👰‍♀️ + 🏩
🏩
🚘 -> montreal 🏩
🏩
🏩
🚍 -> kingston 🏩
🚍 -> toronto 🏩
🏩
🛬 -> london (real london, in england)

let me know if you want to hang out. especially on those days when i’m only in a love hotel or hospital towards the end of the month.

and … what else what else what

elsewhither

hello

it’s me

the same rabbit as before

first day, second day. it’s okay that you don’t just because i do, and it’s okay that you don’t, because i do. it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay. it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay.

lights off, machine talk, night space, pre-watch. not raedy, not ready, not ready, not ready. midnight, one-two. testing, want to. sleeping, waking, all day, working, round and round and round and round. and it’s good now, quick dips and repair on the go. bipedal repair kit.

get up there and tell them. they ought to know. little naughty animals. next year, next year, next year, next year. who knows. sometimes. scraps from the table. this land, your land. pickled blood. i’ve a reason. a little salt. and not just that, but every day. potassium.

everything down on paper. paper is plastic, acrylic and pens. i’ll keep standing up, i guess. everything down. does it help? there’s a lot of it. the next part matters too. that would help. fusion, vision, future, fission. not because of that, but independently in response to that. like end of winter. pickled blood. a little nitrate. leafy grebes. starling, shrike. murderous shrike, head on a spike. painting of a warbler impaled on a thorn by an iberian shrike in the winter.

“whose side are you fucking on”

“oh my god i am so sorry”

don’t you apologize to this man, tell him he’s a cunt, tell keith he’s a cunt!

✅ highlight mentions

✅ highlight moments

✅ highlight breakfasts

radiate. or, i guess, emanate. waves. light, pouring out. rippling through. glow, shiver. doing okay? good, thanks. everything out on the table. does it help? there’s a lot of it. the next part matters too, it could help. nobody wants it? i’m partially undone. take it slow. break for lunch. queens. space. good thing. close up shop. nap time. dinner, trapped. happy. glad to be. share a secret, just a moment. building tension, walking bass. blood like apricots. washing faces, locked in place, softer, weaker, seventh seal or those are only there to make you feel better. have you seen this bird? that’s… a… cocktail tastes like popcorn paste the sun sets orange misty dark and hazy lilac crescent moon and darkened windows leaning back like overground and lower stakes and higher spirits churches basements jazz piano. and, it’s the fortnight after one piece torn and red and yellow tearing. string lightly held between the teeth. but not that, eactly. just, “tss-ts ts-tss-ts ts-tss-ts ts-tss-ts”, snare drum rattling, cow bell. i mean, it’s the story, all these strands over and over. that’s how, is what i mean. yes, just like that with leaves and trees. just like that. each one is all the other ones.

rar, but did i remember to write it down? thank god for the morning. and all those little parts. red september, red october. and, like we always do. and, the cheese. plenty of times. i didn’t mean it to be that way, all one register. we’ll work on that. i mean that i will. i mean, not exactly. i wasn’t on the plane when the plane went in the sky. but thank god for in the morning.

and the notebook making station. and that little corner where the memories come from. and es, the whole thing has been for three quarters of a year. nearly a ear. i feel a tickle in my chest and i sneezed twice. i’m out of estrogen. i’ll be home later in the week. maybe my lungs are tired from cigarettes.

but especially… there’s something there in the space between.

sorry if there’s anything missing.

okay.

what’s the next part? when did i fly?

on friday.

what week was it? monday, tuesday, wednesday. oh i remember i went to ilana’s workshop with agnes and bea and mimi and felt so lucky to be with all these incredibly cool smart funny women, and these strange machines.

and, then me and agnes went to termite and i met sam spike. spittle of the moon, milk of the fig, and then home to where my phone and glasses would be.

on Thursday i held a little baby. thought of all the pain and joy in this little animal’s future and right now with just small feet and tiny claws and alarmed to be born. AND i dropped my laptop down a concrete staircase cutting home through the Barbie.

and then i got up, and got on a plane with mimi. and then there was berlin. and there is a lot of busy. and i’m in a terrible mood because i’m being misgendered and having a terrible skin day and also another thing with july. but i’ll get through this month.

and then me and simon legg went to watch my match and i near but lost my voice singing vindaloo surrounded by norweigens.

several other important and beautiful things happened but i’m late and too busy to write.

awright gal, love ya.