(no subject)
i'm in ottawa, visiting my father. i'm not sure how much time i have for seeing people, i'm a bit of a mess these days, i will admit.
i often think of posting here, but can't quite thread together what i'd like to say. generally, this is because i've just had a memory that i'd like to convey, but can't find an adequate framework to place it within to make it 'readable'.
eff readable right in the a. this journal is already headed towards being a total bummer again, so i'm going to pad it out with memories.
tonight's story:
i remember, when i lived in toronto, that i lived in many different rooms. one such room was a tiny bedroom/hall closet that i rented for 200 bucks in a junkie house on bartlet street near dufferin and dupont. there are a lot of stories from that house, which was a nest of heroin addicted teenagers and fleas. we had every possible bug, an unimaginably healthy population of mice, and a single pitbull puppy who was poorly cared for. i was seventeen, i think. maybe eighteen.
i remember when my friend noelle came and slept over. noelle was a goth girl with a tattoo of hexadecimal from the tv show reboot. she was angry. all the time. quiet. wanted to be a teacher. her dad died when she was a little girl, she slept in a scarlet bra every night because she was sure it would keep her breasts pert, and we both smoked a lot of cigarettes.
we met in horizons, the homeless shelter i moved into after things collapsed between jairus and venk and i and we all went our separate ways. i was in grade eleven, and the shelter staff couldn't understand why i wanted to be in highschool. i was one of two kids in the shelter who were in school.
noelle and i moved into horizons on the same day. we were roommates in a three bed room. i had the bottom bunk, she had the top, and a rotating cast of insane individuals took the single bed. staff often confused us, calling us by each other's names. noelle had been in the shelter system for years, staying at eva's phoenix and the y and a number of other places. we were close because we had no other choice. i'm not sure if we would have been friends otherwise, our personalities were fairly different and she is, at best, prickly. i don't doubt she finds me obnoxious.
so i lived in the shelter, finished that year of highschool in the shelter, left toronto for the summer and came home to ottawa, then returned and moved straight into the junkie house. friends of mine lived there and it was a very reasonable amount to be asking to rent a closet. i had a child-sized mattress on the floor that took up the majority of the floorspace. in fact, it bowed up at the sides and i slept balled up, cradled in the depression. it was incredibly comfortable. the remaining four or five feet of my room was a wasteland of garbage and possessions, a milk crate full of books and papers, and a pepper plant that had died. i had a window that opened onto the roof, and my roommates and i would climb through it to watch the trains go by. our house was beside the tracks. like, you could touch the side of the house with one hand, and nearly brush your fingers against the passing cn rail freight cars as they went by.
my first good memory of that house is of a meltingly hot summer night. we were draped over couches and chairs, sweltering, when we heard the bell clanging as the arm went down, blocking any cars from crossing the tracks. i was caught up in the frenzy as my five or so roommates tore out of the house, hollering for the train, and we all stood with our arms open, inches from the giant freight cars whipping by, letting the first cool breeze we'd felt in days wash over us. that was a magnificent feeling.
so noelle came over one night. i pierced her bridge with a needle as she sat on the couch. we shit talked and then stole couch pillows from under one of my roommates who had nodded out, oblivious to our presence. we made a nest in my room, having no other choice, and slept side by side on the floor in a pile of pillows. what i remembered, today, was waking up in the afternoon. maybe even the evening. we woke up at about the same time, and both fumbled for our smokes and our lighters. my eyes were barely even open and i was smoking a JPS, the black pack with the gold foil stamped letters embossed on the front. we smoked three or four cigarettes. it was luxurious. it was revolting. just lying there, coming awake, drawing on cigarettes and making plumes of smoke, cramped together in a room so small we couldn't extend our legs.
that's the memory for tonight.
i often think of posting here, but can't quite thread together what i'd like to say. generally, this is because i've just had a memory that i'd like to convey, but can't find an adequate framework to place it within to make it 'readable'.
eff readable right in the a. this journal is already headed towards being a total bummer again, so i'm going to pad it out with memories.
tonight's story:
i remember, when i lived in toronto, that i lived in many different rooms. one such room was a tiny bedroom/hall closet that i rented for 200 bucks in a junkie house on bartlet street near dufferin and dupont. there are a lot of stories from that house, which was a nest of heroin addicted teenagers and fleas. we had every possible bug, an unimaginably healthy population of mice, and a single pitbull puppy who was poorly cared for. i was seventeen, i think. maybe eighteen.
i remember when my friend noelle came and slept over. noelle was a goth girl with a tattoo of hexadecimal from the tv show reboot. she was angry. all the time. quiet. wanted to be a teacher. her dad died when she was a little girl, she slept in a scarlet bra every night because she was sure it would keep her breasts pert, and we both smoked a lot of cigarettes.
we met in horizons, the homeless shelter i moved into after things collapsed between jairus and venk and i and we all went our separate ways. i was in grade eleven, and the shelter staff couldn't understand why i wanted to be in highschool. i was one of two kids in the shelter who were in school.
noelle and i moved into horizons on the same day. we were roommates in a three bed room. i had the bottom bunk, she had the top, and a rotating cast of insane individuals took the single bed. staff often confused us, calling us by each other's names. noelle had been in the shelter system for years, staying at eva's phoenix and the y and a number of other places. we were close because we had no other choice. i'm not sure if we would have been friends otherwise, our personalities were fairly different and she is, at best, prickly. i don't doubt she finds me obnoxious.
so i lived in the shelter, finished that year of highschool in the shelter, left toronto for the summer and came home to ottawa, then returned and moved straight into the junkie house. friends of mine lived there and it was a very reasonable amount to be asking to rent a closet. i had a child-sized mattress on the floor that took up the majority of the floorspace. in fact, it bowed up at the sides and i slept balled up, cradled in the depression. it was incredibly comfortable. the remaining four or five feet of my room was a wasteland of garbage and possessions, a milk crate full of books and papers, and a pepper plant that had died. i had a window that opened onto the roof, and my roommates and i would climb through it to watch the trains go by. our house was beside the tracks. like, you could touch the side of the house with one hand, and nearly brush your fingers against the passing cn rail freight cars as they went by.
my first good memory of that house is of a meltingly hot summer night. we were draped over couches and chairs, sweltering, when we heard the bell clanging as the arm went down, blocking any cars from crossing the tracks. i was caught up in the frenzy as my five or so roommates tore out of the house, hollering for the train, and we all stood with our arms open, inches from the giant freight cars whipping by, letting the first cool breeze we'd felt in days wash over us. that was a magnificent feeling.
so noelle came over one night. i pierced her bridge with a needle as she sat on the couch. we shit talked and then stole couch pillows from under one of my roommates who had nodded out, oblivious to our presence. we made a nest in my room, having no other choice, and slept side by side on the floor in a pile of pillows. what i remembered, today, was waking up in the afternoon. maybe even the evening. we woke up at about the same time, and both fumbled for our smokes and our lighters. my eyes were barely even open and i was smoking a JPS, the black pack with the gold foil stamped letters embossed on the front. we smoked three or four cigarettes. it was luxurious. it was revolting. just lying there, coming awake, drawing on cigarettes and making plumes of smoke, cramped together in a room so small we couldn't extend our legs.
that's the memory for tonight.