- [her]: «how was your lunch?» - [me]: «awful. but i ate it anyway since this was all i had.» judging from her face i guess she was expecting a slightly more formal answer.
at work people keep on disappearing never to be spoken of again. in the afternoon, a bird flies by then loudly comes crashing into my window. and my heart stops. my throat is tight and my stomach is in knots. i'm scared to turn around fearful that death might be here and if ignore it it's going to be just fine. my hair smells like cigarette and on the bus a guy twice my size chooses to sit by my side, squeezing me towards the window. and inside i feel like i could die because i can hardly bear this. the intensity. sebastien-dahlin' calling me on my cell as i'm still stuck next to that window, awaiting my nearly coming deliverance.
----- wednesday 11th;
she didn't ask again how my lunch was.
- [him]: «would you happen to have a cigarette?» - [me]: «yes. but they're mine.»
«i know that we've never met before but that was then, and now i need you more [...] taking me down off this cross lay me down, down, down in the dust whoa, love, take my hand across the crowd [...] i have no children i have no husband i have no reason to be alive, oh, give me one»
just a moment to thank to those who replied to this, whether here on lj or elsewhere. profusely crying into my pillow last night did a little bit of good & as for the rest i'm trying to cope the best that i can.
tue, jan 6th, '09 ♦ 04:01am
had my job interview monday afternoon. we were actually two being interviewed at the same time, and the other woman (a black lady probably in her late thirties) wouldn't stop babbling and babbling and babbling. which, i'm not sure why, i found rather endearing. i get so fascinated with people sometimes, i swear.
an answer should come about it later this week whether it's actually positive or negative. the pay's far from thrilling though i'm thinking it'd be nice to get it, regardless, even if just to escape from myself for a while.
fuck that movie's awesome. mom & i were dying in laughter last night.
year after year. after year. her videos being played on tv back when the 90's were alive and the music was still good. learning english as time went by. taking photos when digital didn't exist to the common populace. buying CDs when there was no other sneaky way to hear new music. feeling the paper upon every turn of the booklets' pages. buying maxi singles at the HMV in laval for "crucify", for "winter", for all of the others i don't remember, and all the b-sides. a few of my first attempts at HTML being tori websites (their crappy design, my thinking they were so fab)...«a little mental yoga» quoted on the main graphic of my last one. winning tickets to see her live & interactive taping at musiqueplus and going absolutely insane (and the answer was myra ellen amos but of course! on second try no less). my beforehand ridiculous e-mail to the musiqueplus staff begging them so i could win regardless. all the magazines i bought, and each and every circumstances. listening to songs like "concertina" on cold winter saturday evenings sitting in the car after days of shopping and restaurants. traveling to british columbia, all the people i knew back then. joel, i miss him so, upgrading us to first row. our little group on livejournal...how we're all over the place now.
i don't know. i could go on and on and on. it seems and feels as though my tori-related memories find no barriers.
i can't even think back on what got me hooked at first. other than maybe deep down we're a little bit of the same. if today tori's taking personas and dressing up and pretending she's all of these other girls, that's what my entire childhood was about. minus the dressing up part, which i couldn't partake in quite yet...however i'm fully making up for that today.
some of her songs, or random lines of lyrics, have touched me on such a profound level. "little earthquakes" (the album), in particular, does not and cannot get older. it survives time. and what can i say, to me it's a gem. it's perfection.
and yet! i was so far away from all of this. in all honesty, i plain didn't care. i couldn't relate anymore. so far away so close. next thing you know, it's all still here. in dire need of a pinch! only locked somewhere where you're not looking all too frequently anymore.
sunday, it was all but the fact of paying to see tori playing the piano on a stage. in times like these it's a freakin ride through a time-machine bringing you back to long-time forgotten places. bearing its every feel, its every emotion. crystal clear as if it belonged to yesterday. ~$2 for every shiver?
i guess in a way that, meeting her was full circling. a decade later.
she is SO TINY. oh. my. without overly thinking it the first thing surfacing to my mind was like leaning down and talking to grandma not touching too much making sure she wouldn't break. i asked if she'd ever done "blue skies" live yet and told her that she SHOULD! i should have made a more plausible request however, which i thought about too late of course, but, her cover of "enjoy the silence"? hot damn. i'm stupid. then i asked her at what time she'd begin her set in order to find out if i had time to go back home and up to montreal again, ha. and so it turns out i missed my bus by *one* minute. after making a wild run from place-des-arts to bonaventure with a backpack on in moreso 12 minutes. seriously, come on(!!) nevertheless, the award of my biggest fuck-up of the day remains forgetting my SLR camera battery home. then second place would have to go to dropping my concert ticket on the floor of the venue. over 11 years of going to shows and this is the first time of something like this happening to me. i'm never ever ever going to recover!
i've been listening to "hey jupiter" (the dakota version) and "sugar" on repeat since. i love those songs SO MUCH. like...!!!!!
pinch me i can't believe how longlasting these things can get. it's ridiculous. above being a singer, a pianist, a lyricist, she has been an artistic inspiration to me. i don't think i could deny it even if i tried. that very passion, the ghost of it... hell i probably am who i am today because of this.
tori amos reminds me of the traces we leave, and the day i'm going to die. and it's marvellous that way, too.