rochelle.mazar.ca

Day 3,286: Still gay.

I am currently in possession of the weirdest looking couch in the universe.

On it’s own it’s not that weird-looking. It’s ugly, but it’s clean and perfectly useable. But it’s orangey and floral and it just doesn’t go with my decor at all. My sister gave me a set of burgundy-red batiked sheets to cover the couch with. Two sheets. But it doesn’t really, er, cover the whole thing. I could get it to cover the back and the seats but not the arms. And then it just looked stupid. So then I took the cushions off, used the sheets to cover the frame and the arms, and then wrapped the seats up in an old quilt. That looked ridiculous and wierd. Then I took the cushions off again and wrapped them in a forest green flannel sheet. That looks slightly better, but still utterly ridiculous. I put a green pillow and a white pillow on it. It still looked weird. I put old quilts, folded, on the arms. It still looks atrocious. But somehow I kind of like it in a sick, sad way. Anyone walking into this apartmen would have to laugh their ass off at my couch.

Well, they don’t have to live here, do they. Hmph.

I really wish I were in my new place. I really do. But hopefully I will be soon. The place will look extremely vacant without the offerings from my sister. She’s got a dining room set and a couch for me. Without that, well, all I have in my living room in a chair, a coffee table, an end table, and a bookshelf. Bit dull, no?

So Ben: yes, you can stay with me, but I’m not sure I have a place to put you. In fact, I really want you to stay with me, so I’m kind of hoping my family manages to move that stuff from my sister’s place to my place before Friday night….

My dad got me the most kick ass chairs for my balcony. Like, truly gorgeous, v. comfortable. Two of them. They’re smaller than my muskoka chairs, which is good because this balcony is only about a quarter the size of my old balcony. That was an outrageously large balcony.

Andrea Higgins, you need a blog. That’s my new thought on that. Melissa needs one too, but she’s too busy and too not into computers to get one. This is why I will keep the Max Coleman blog.

God I hope this settles it self out soon. I’m so cut off over here, really. I can’t send email, you have no idea how frustrating that can be. I’m sending email via weird webmail clients. Very weird to me. GAH.

It’s a medical show. And they’re covering a topic that interests me. Normally I don’t really go for medical shows, I find them boring and gross, normally. But this one…I don’t even know what it is, actually. There’s a very cute girl on it, though. She reminds me of…what’s her name? That girl from Kissed. You know, Molly Parker. With the freckles.

But anyway, that’s not what I’m writing this for. They’re doing this show about a kid who gets some kind of kidney disorder, or something. And they need a transplant, and no one’s coming up a match. And the doctor says, is there anyone else in the family we can call? The mother says yes, the father says no. Turns out there’s another son in the family, an older boy. He’s been in prison for molesting little boys, including his younger brother.

How do you deal with something like that as a parent? I mean, seriously. The mother was trying to patch things up, but the father, oh man. He had a serious hate on for his older son. The brother was out of jail now, and his mother brought him into the hospital secretly. Turns out he’s a match, but when the father walks in and sees the son, he yells and slugs him. Totally, full hate on.

I have said before that incest is anathema to the concept of family. I mean, there’s an agreement there, there’s a line that you can’t even come close to crossing. And I have said that I couldn’t imagine moving on from something like that. The trust is broken, the family is destroyed. But the fact is it doesn’t destroy families. Familes go on with issues like that all the time.

A good friend of mine was molested by her brother and her mother walked in. What exactly are you supposed to do in a situation like that? How does a mother deal with having the perp being…her own child?

So I’m glad to see someone wrestling with this. Not just that incest happens, but that people move on from it. That family is still family and those relationships continue.

Move is very frustrating. I am still not sleeping in my own apartment. I’m staying with my folks. The super is in my apartment 12 hours a day getting it ready. Everywhere he looks there’s something else he wants to fix. The bedroom floor was ripped up when I first picked up my keys; now the floor is glued down but it’s very gluey smelling in there, and the super was fixing the closet and the bathroom while I was there. So I’m still not sleeping there.

Perhaps tomorrow. Somehow I doubt it.

My sister has a couch and a dining set for me…I would love to have those, because without it I have, like, no furniture in my living room.

Well, at least I HAVE a living room, isn’t that right. I want my dsl, man. I want my dsl!!!

War
So we’re going to be going to war, eh? Well well well. We all need to kiss Bush’s bushy ass, that’s what. I’m not sure who’s more comparable to Hitler here…Bush or Saddam Hussein. I love all the talk. Oh, should we or shouldn’t we? What will the UN say? Oh please. Like we won’t do whatever the US asks us to do. Hello, economy dependent on the US. Like we’d tell the US to fuck off in a meaningful way.

Pshaw. So we’re going to war. Because Bush wants to. It sickens me. It really does.

What makes a person so poisonous righteous
that they’d think less of anyone who just disagreed?
She’s just pacifist, he’s just a patriot
If I said you were crazy would you have to fight me?