In a shared ride from LAX a drunk sailor who was maybe 22 wanted me to come sailing in New Orleans with him. He was so wasted he had the same conversation with me four times and then told me a story about his dad sending his dogs away to live on a farm and I asked if the farm was at the end of a shotgun and it was. At the end I think we were making jokes using the same words but about different things so we could not understand each other and the jokes were either about sailing or drugs. There were three silent businessmen with us.
At 7AM in upper Swansea there are no beer cans, but bottles of Veuve Cliquot in the middle of the road.
Meggy wrote an article for Jezebel called The Celebrity Guide to Bipolar Disorder. According to Wikipedia, others with bipolar disorder include Patty Duke, Patricia Cromwell, Margaret Trudeau, Florence Nightingale, Virginia Woolf, Nina Simone, Robert Schumann, Cheri Oteri, Axl Rose, Emil Post, Edvard Munch, Kate Millett, Kristy McNichol, and Jean-Claude Van Damme. I have never felt any comfort in knowing public figures, especially pop culture celebrities, have bipolar disorder and something about them as spokesmodels bothers me in a way I do not completely understand. But I have seen how people who do not have it, people who are scared of it, have changed their ideas about it when they have seen public representations, especially from certain types of public figures, the way Darkness Visible changed my parents thirteen years ago and for that I do see the purpose. Sometimes it helps explain so you don’t have to. Like how ‘I don’t feel good’ often means ‘I might go to the hospital tonight because there is no other way to be safe now.’
Related: a new treatment is a promise. A possibility. Like a present. Like a new love. Even if one in twenty works in the end it always starts the same.
CN Tower on the way home.
They are the same honed stone but in different colours. The top is for the entrance, the bottom is for the bathroom. They are not blue/green, but cream/purple/brown
An excerpt from Meggy’s novel is in the new Storychord:
An Arrangement by Meggy Wang
Girls holding each other’s hair over the public toilet while they puke at the end of the night, the way they rub each other’s backs and blot mascara from each other’s cheeks, these are things I love.
Last night the Sadies opened for Godspeed You Black Emperor and then it was all over. It wasn’t the half-empty, dark and blue light Aquarium, but it was so beautiful and there is no other band I have seen that becomes one sound like that, no symphony, not anything.
Now I’m going to re-experience being twenty-one and I didn’t plan well enough to account for waterproof mascara. I’ll be on Bloor looking like a racoon by midnight.
My dad calls me from the top of a volcano after the jungle, after hot springs, after seeing orange monkeys and petting sharks and I am watching Auschwitz: Inside the Nazi State, a six hour BBC documentary.
I went to Forks of the Credit to take Louise hiking and drive on the windy and hilly and narrow roads and that couple from Marriage Under Construction was there too, which is a show I totally watch, and they live just 5 minutes from us in the city and I felt like such a creep knowing that. Louise jumped in the lake, still half covered in ice, and the trees are still bare and the pastures are full of spring lambs and foals and oxen. If we stay in Canada I would like to live there later, once we are through with the city, and have a horse again. My horse in high school was named Adversary and he was the tallest, most beautiful Polish Arabian you ever saw, his gaits like water.
There is nothing wrong with abortion and it does not need to be legislated any more than any other type of surgery.