Whiskey and Guiness

What a treat.

Trois Morceaux en forme de poire

Gnossienne No. 3 by Erik Satie

This song caught me off guard today. This is the first song I learned to play that actually meant anything to me. The first piece of music I played with real imagery behind my eyes (closed) and the first song I really felt. I felt myself swaying bit by bit, effortless hands, and I finally felt something welling up inside of me that needed to spill out. It took me a long time to get there.

Monsieur Satie, I owe you one.

Holy shit.

If I die before tomorrow, this is probably why.

(Famous last words).

Just a Quick One

I came home drunk at 2:30 to my folks house after a night at Handlebar Hank's, having had sneakily drank vodka straight from my flask inside the establishment, mind you. Drinks are cheaper in small towns, too. Playing the accordion at last night's Welland show went pretty alright, I think. I'm getting better, but also my left arm is sore from pumping those bellows. Mostly seeing that people in this town are making good music and caring about it is really refreshing and encouraging.
This morning I was woken up by Bruce Springstein's pianist's new song (my dad saved it for me because there is accordion in it) and watched Will & Grace and Ellen on TV in the basement.
Once we came upstairs my family discussed "trans-trannymen", something which my dad refuses to believe in (that is, Trans-Men who also change transmissions). It's my mom's birthday today and all I wanted to get her was a nice vegetarian cookbook and I couldn't even find one in the stupid mall, which I drove home from listening to "Feel the Pain" and "Brain Stew".

'90s alt lives!

Insofar, being at home again is better than it used to be these days.

Bloggin' Since '02,

But these are the only posts I can find. Valentines years past:

2007: " The dining hall is filled with candles and pink glitter hearts and they are fucking BLASTING Andrea Bocelli. I hate life."

2006: "I guess I need to make some changes." (This was actually posted on February 13, though close enough to potentially denote some Valentiney feelings).

2005: "Happy Sarahtines Day. Maltesers, Chocolate covered raisins, Skor, Maltesers, Chocolate covered raisins, Skor, Maltesers, Chocolate covered raisins, Skor, Maltesers, Chocolate covered raisins, Skor. This is all I have been eating for the past 24 hours. I'm a health machine, oh yeah! And no thanks to the Bulk Barn. Oh, I forgot to say that STYX is also engraved on my chemistry desk. Oh man, that class just keeps getting better and better. But worse and worse in that I'm not doing very well. I wish I was a rapper. They're so damn saucy."

I was hoping they'd be a little more tragic, though I guess 2005 sees such tragic undertones in my melodramatic chocolate consumption.

2008 Valentine's Day Sentiment: "You're the Zach Galifianakis to my Fiona Apple."



I don't care that this is a little bit old. I listened to this song on my walk home and it made me want to pound something in the best way.

Hokey but Not Quite

I saw a raccoon on my walk home tonight and it was a little bit beautiful, the mangy little thing. Round and tumbling. More beautiful is being the subject of a poem, and the most beautiful is that feeling you get when half way through winter you don't care about the shitty season anymore because there are sunnier things to be thinking.

I was told once I said the word "beautiful" too often, and also that I spoke it with an accent. Well hot damn, that's okay, isn't it?

P.S. "A commentary on a dream in which my spirit guide, Danny DeVito, killed me via several (unnecessary) gunshots to the spine. And in case you were wondering about the great beyond, 'The afterlife is just like life except you can only talk + be seen by like 2 people. You wander the earth. That's it.' What a bummer!"

Why do I have to look like Quasimodo this morning? Why can't my eyelids just co-operate?

The past little while has been a series of surprises- good and bad and maybe overwhelming precipitations. I like surprises, but more so in the way that I like finding an accordion in mum's closet before Christmas. Even surprises that aren't entirely surprising, but are filled with beautiful words that make you well up. I have realized lately that for someone who finds trouble in reconciling the belief in a sort of religious divinity, I am very blessed. My body is filled with this warmth. It tries to reach my hands but sometimes it does not get there though I wish it would. I am trying.