The · Stick · With · No · End

This is about my day

...

oh man dogg totally was so sweet

Amazing times. For once, I do not write about angst, but about a day of excellence.

Moved and settled in. Not a complete transition, but eh - it feels like home. Made shelves all day. MAN SHELVES ARE AWESOME. But time consuming! But now, I can organize shit. Amazing.

Then, moved the bed down. Guitar Hero, telly, computer, bed, all in one room? Dream come true. Good feeling there.

Then this guy Mark an amazing chef-man from Alsace for realz comes over and we all have dinner and it was totally delicious and then had this huge portion of sinfully artery-clogging delicious chocolate cake delight.

I am that kid. You know that kid. You see him in the corner and you point. Amazing. That kid.

Writing is AMAZING. My stoned mind thinks that the order of big inventions goes as follows:
1. Walking on two legs
2. Using tool
3. Discovering flame
4. Language
5. The wheel (Order wrong here?)
6. (Wow! History is amazing!) (And I'm probably so wrong!) Agriculture
7.

At this point, I forget why I started the list in the first place. This attempt failed.

...Alright getting self-conscious. Realize how silly I feel. Must send before I delete.

I'm just broadcasting it, aren't I. Bah. Miss everyone. I should go to Halifax.

Goodnight!

It's late, but... Well, I don't know. The girl that winked is the new thing, and that's going well. Really well. I don't know if I can keep on conversing with her as often as I am and neither lose the whole affection thing nor tumble terribly again - the long-distance nature of the beast is going to become an issue, soon. I can tell.

I'm flitting from one extreme to the other. I really don't want to like her much more than I already do, because that's a hole with no bottom. But - writing here proves it (when else do I write?) - it seems to be where I'm a'headin'. (She is SO cool. SO awesome. I'm SO flabbergasted by this.)

Today was not a good day. You can tell because I'm writing here.

I should be asleep. I'm planning to go swimming tomorrow morning - bright and early - then buy books and go to class. Not excited about the boring lecture that's in store for me, but what ev's.

Postman delivered.

*Disclaimer* I actually like this movie.

Oh, we can't see Bill in this scene. Maybe in the next one.

Coppertop sure is lucky she wears shoes indoors. That whole fight would have been different if she was only wearing socks. Different, and much, much shorter.

Not only they bleep out her name, but she mumbles it. Why is that detail relevant? We will never know. Thank goodness they had that reveal in the second movie. "Black Mamba" is so much better anyway.

She keeps a gun in a box of "Kaboom" cereal. Is there a "Kaboom" cereal? Did no one else in this household notice the handgun? Or is that the standard treat? I remember glow-in-the-dark figures in my Honeycombs.

...Aaaand she drives away in the Pussy Wagon and leaves the four-year-old by herself with a dead mother in the kitchen, and somehow gets away with being the good guy in the scnee. And then we go OH MY GOD TARANTINO DID A TIME THINGY.

Really annoying - I can't get the subtitles to work.

Good thing the necrophiliac sheriff got spat at before he could do the deed. Man. Man alive. (Ha, man alive, get it?)

Is that nurse eye-patch standard? I don't know, but if I ever have a one-eyed nurse, I want her to look like this. And not try to kill me in my sleep. Sleep/coma. In my coma. Good thing that Bill called RIGHT THEN. At least now we'll get to see him.

Oh. Wait. No we won't. But it's his hand. Closer. It's an expressive hand. And it's holding a sword. I wonder if does this every time he calls someone. You know, fondle his sword. Henceforth, I'm going to assume that every time they don't show him, he's naked. And he doesn't love you, Elle, he's talking to his sword.

The advice would sink in a bit better if she was conscious. The thinly veiled threat and shouted conversation couldn't wake her, the four years of rape didn't either, it's the mosquito. Of course it's the mosquito. It's always the mosquito.

OH OUT OF FOCUS FACE. I SEE YOU BILL.

Are you surprised you're not pregnant anymore? I would be worried for you if it was still in there. And WHAT THE HELL you look at your palms and can tell by the lines on them that it has been four years that you've been out cold? That's one crazy talent you got there. I wonder what kind of girl-guide badge you got for learning how to do that.

Is "Vasalube" a thing? I was going to make a joke about Vaseline, but nope. "Vasalube." Hilarious! Still, what a filthy jar. What else does he use it for?

"AAAH SHE BIT MY LIP TO DEATH."

Little known fact, getting cut in the Achilles tendon prevents your body from producing adrenalin and makes you limper than a limp thing. Little known fact, when you're in a coma, you can see through your eyelids.

I think the guy who did the animation here is the same who did Kid's Story in the Animatrix. It's bitchin', either way. But starting at this point, the whole "blood pressure" thing goes out of control. OUT OF COUNTROL. Man, is it possible to clench your teeth so hard they shatter like that?

Up to this point, we've only seen the most hardcore warriors EVER fight either each other or incredulous hicks. Cue the incompetent bodyguards that are the trademark on this OH MY GOD she shot him with a handgun that made his leg EXPLODE off his body and his head EXPLODE, period.

Now the segment that is basically all in Japanese. Je ne comprends pas. BAH. I like Hatori Hanso. Did you know that Hatori Hanso is a character in a Japaenese television show set in medieval Japan played by the SAME ACTOR who is an uber-samurai? Neat-o.

"She wants to get drunk? YUS. Servant, get her some Sake RIGHT NOW." I'd comment on it some more, but I do the same thing ALL THE TIME.

Yes, the sword is sharp. It can cut a baseball. Hook did it better.

The part of the movie that everyone actually paid to see is starting now. "She's standing on the table? No one ever does that! CRAZY! Oh, dead dude." These Yakuza bosses are such pussies. Unnamed characters are always so weak in these movies. But DUDE props to the props department. Sweet severed head. That was unintentional. Baha.

Kill Bill - perpetuating the stereotype that all Asians are good with weapons and at martial arts since 2003.

Dadadumdum dadumdum dadumdum! The Song! It's the SONG. With badass slo-mo! I wish I was that cool guy with the blond-ish hair and the sword. This is mostly about the sword. And maybe the swagger.

Man, they're having fun. In that language. Man, the 5, 6, 7, 8s sound good. Ish. In a campy way. They're not playing loud enough, because Cottonmouth can hear Mamba over it and throws a dart which is the first bit of property that is damaged in this sequence. Does she do this every time she hears someone walking down the hallway? The paperwork involved must be insane.

Badass. I am dazzled enough by the violence to stop being snarky.

Wait, never mind. You know, every time that they do the "I was a bride then got beaten up" flashback, she always looks up in the same way, but every time they do it she's looking at something else. Crazy peripherals she has for a knocked up bride. Badum CHA.

Ingo, or Gogo, is that a real weapon? A ball thing? Oh, look, bladed too! Your legs are entirely too unblemished for you to have ever been bad with that weapon. I mean, anyone would have been cut SO many times in the past. SO many times, accidentally. I mean, it's a ball on a chain. But this whole series - Uma Thurman would be so unsightly if they actually left all the scars on her. In the second movie, she'd have no breasts. Didn't she get a chestful of rock salt at point blank range in the second movie? Ouch.

Would you bleed tears like that? I mean, it's cool and all, but with his current track record, I would have assumed Tarantino was going to make the blood squirt from her tear ducts.

Black and white fight sequence. What a bad idea to throw an ax at a single person in a crowd of over a hundred of your friends. That's all I'm gonna say.

It's BILL and his HAND again! OOOH. He has TWO hands! I feel spoiled.

OH GEEZ a foreign language I understand.

"Give me your other arm!" You cut off her other one, you not-the-brightest-crayon.

"Sophie: Guessing won't be necessary. She informed me... She said I could keep my wicked life for two reasons.
Black Mamba: As I said before, I've allowed you to keep your wicked life for two reasons."
Really? Really?

AH - something she's not good at. Writing. MAN she writes poorly.

DUM DA DUM HER DAUGHTER IS STILL ALIVE.

That was fun.

I like this movie. The Bride created by Q & U? Quentin and Uma? Who knows. Someone knows. Anyway.

This has not been the best four days ever.

First off, I never want to pass out in public again. It's bad enough that it happened, but when you don't have the room to even sit down, keeling over isn't an option. Apparently, I thought it was - I don't want to come to being carried by people.

Jesus.

Good concert, though.

And I'm here. Again. Last night - I did it again. I tumbled down. I want to leave. I want to lose my reason and not have to deal with it. Maybe tonight.

But not really.

Good show. I kinda felt that wasn't quite the right venue for that kind of show, though. Too many people in too small of a space - no room to "skank," and so moshing became the order of the day. Music was upbeat, but it became difficult to actually enjoy it, what with elbows in ribs and crowd surfers on head. I remember the lead singer/guitarist and the trombone player, but otherwise I think I sweated out the memories by the end of the first song.

Being tall is a blessing and a curse. It's good to get to actually see the performers, and if there's any fresh air I get to actually breathe it rather than the stifling below-average-height level air, but if I don't see a crowd-surfer coming my way, they land squarely on my neck, or kick me in the head, and I can't get my arms up to push them away.

It sounds like I'm complaining, but I'm really not. It was a lot of fun. I got tee-shirts. I pretended I knew what I was doing.

The poor band, though. Their alto saxophone player was getting a tooth removed from an injury sustained in Pennsylvania, and they were all so tired. They put on a remarkably good show, regardless - like Amanda Palmer, with her sore throat. Very different show.

I like Ska, I guess, now. Got turned around it.

Good few days. I don't want to think about them.

EDIT: Looking back at my previous entries, I realize they're all a bit monotone - things are much better, right now. I'm more in touch with my centre than I have been in a good long while. I'm just tired from moshing so much. It was intense. I pre-drank (I've never pre-drunk!) and I moshed (I've never really moshed!) and I spent time with good friends.

Fuck fuck fuck shit shit shit fuck you oh my god.

You are dead to me - I don't believe in fairies - now go away and leave me alone. Get out of my head, because I'm sick of you. I don't want to fucking taste this anymore. I don't want this flutter and this elation and this numbness. I want you gone. I want you out. Take your unrealistic ideals take your issues, get out of my house, get out of my mouth, get out of my pictures and my memories of stars and spotlights, just go away. Just go the fuck away.

Fuck shit buggery fuck shit buggery fuck fuck FUCK.

Yes I'm alone but then again I always was as far back as I can tell I think maybe it's because you never were really real to begin with. I just made you up to hurt myself. And it worked. Yes, it did!

There is no you, there is only me.

You were right. It will only amount in this - stupid -

And the steam runs out. And the swearing gets tiresome. And Artem regains control. But there's only so much clapping one can do before one has to come to the conclusion that it's not going to be enough to wake Tinkerbell up again. There are only so many excuses I can make for myself before even me - the king of self-deception - start doubting it. I believed it, can you imagine?

I believed I was on the mend, that I was past this, that I was unaffected. These precious things, let them bleed, let them wash away. It's so good that you're being avoidant. That you're hiding. That you are a complete non-entity in the story of my life right now.

Next I see you, you will treat me with a "I missed you so much" and I am going to fall for it. I am going to fall for it again and again and again.

Watch me be ashamed of this tomorrow. Such a small thing triggers this - like hell I don't care anymore.

I haven't been terribly under the influence of anything (second hand, yes, tipsy, a little) since New Year's, roughly. Why does it feel like it has been longer? Maybe this whole joked-about-dependency is more real than I thought. Hm. Craving.

Drinking influencer gone, and lack of funds to purchase other fun stuff, I guess. This sobriety is interesting, but next time it hits me, it's going to hit me hard. I'll hold out.

Ah, hormones, my other chemical addiction, has been fickle as well recently. Schizophrenic even. We are drifting apart, and that's inevitable, I guess. May as well get stuff done in the process.