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About

This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

Recent

I'm Gish. I guess this is what one can call the remnants of a pre-mid-life crisis. I listen to too much music and read too many books, and it all means nothing. Abrasive, I smoke too much, drink too much coffee and hardly sleep. Alive. Be sure to check out the new links to blogs, photos, music and other sorts of good stuff at the very bottom of the page.

Archives

The Devil's in the Details... Friday, May 09, 2008 |

my feet don't touch the ground when you come around...
I'm exhausted. This week has been pretty brutal with travel and training. We're working right through the weekend which means no time off until next Saturday. I shouldn't whine, but I like to sleep in (if I can) so after awhile, it all catches up with me and sends me over the little deep end.

I wanted to post this. I posted it when I first got the tattoo years ago but I just wanted everyone to see it...again. Like it was the first time.
See how this love stays divine

I've been spending a lot of time with the local social workers which is kind of fun. Every day, the covering social worker cooks dinner and we sit around and gab until I see how late it's getting and rush back to the hotel. I use the term 'hotel' loosely and will post photos at some point. They book the rooms by the bed, so if anyone else checks in, I'll have to share a room. That's when I'll be begging for the couch at the social worker's house. Oh yeth.

I bought two perfect red pears. I set them on the dresser so they can ripen a bit more. They look delectable from where I am sitting, typing this out for you, and I want to taste one but it will be too hard against my teeth and unready to eat. Unready. I like to make up words, sometimes.

I'm getting excited about my trip to London in June. The shopping. The fact that I will be renting a car and will feel the warm June night air on my skin. I'll take nostalgic trips to Port Stanley and sit in the sand as the water waves over itself. I'm looking forward to it. I like the Arctic but I still have fond memories of other places.

The Devil's in the Details - Matthew Good.'

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the age old question Saturday, June 09, 2007 |

Jeans and a t-shirt or t-shirt and jeans?

Rose and I are *supposed* to go out tonight, but it's getting later and later and neither of us appear to be anywhere near ready to the meet the exceptionally high standards of downtown London, Ontario.

I felt the need to clarify 'Ontario'.

I'm also debating high heels. If I do heels, I'll have to stay reasonably sober so as to not fall flat on the finely arched eyebrows of my face. If I choose a lower heel (most are 3 inch or higher) then I can rest assured that I won't end up tasting concrete tonight.

On the other hand, I look freaking *HOT* in highheels, and with the black bustier I was sort of planning on wearing...I'd be like...molten. Molten something, anyway.

And also I'll admit here that I will use the slow and sleazy comfort of gin and tonics to wash away the day. I saw my nephews Riley and Danny for the first time in over 2 years today. We spent 6 hours laughing, eating and driving around looking for yard sales. Eating ice cream. Their father has finally agreed to contact and access. And I know it's good. It was good to see them, parts of my heart must be scabbing over while I type this, but the look in their eyes when they asked me I didn't come back for them sooner, nearly did me in.

I guess they dont know I'm emotionally fragile. Not their fault.

So, now I am listening to ancient Daniel Johnston songs and wondering what the hell 30 years old women wear to clubs. I'm afraid of the answer and will likely show up in a black tshirt and a pair of blue jeans. I'm not a club girl, never will be and can't even imagine the TIME it takes for one to get ready. I slap on some makeup, make sure my teeth are brushed and my underwear isn't showing (long story) and I'm out the door.

I called A friend in B.C to say hello, then answered the telephone like I was Alice in Wonderland or something. Keep thinking of falling down rabbit holes. I guess the advertising worked, Matt. I bought an old rotary phone at a yard sale today, its sitting proudly beside my bed. It rings oh so gently when someone calls me. So I'll go out tonight, with two 50 dollar bills wrapped around my Driver's License (I'm a cheap drunk) and see if I can consume enough to dance in public.

For some unknown reason, I'm struck with indecision this evening.
I guess I'd better get on with it.
Love,
Gish

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